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del-thetiredwriter · 22 days ago

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Twisted Wonderland / Otome Au

Warning: Yandere , gn reader, English is not my first language.

Notes: Okay I know I have many other au in waiting but I just liked the idea and write this instead. I hope you like it . Please share your thoughts with me.

Summary: One day, you opened your eyes and found yourself in Twisted Wonderland. And the task the System gave you is to get one of the lead characters love meter to 100% by the end of the main story and reach their happy ending.

You slowly opened your eyes to the sounds of the voices. It was dark… and it sounded like someone was punching to something ? You opened your mouth to speak but couldn’t. As you tried to understand what was happening, a screen and two options appeared in front of you:

> What’s that noise?

> Is it morning already?

You clicked on one of the random options.

“I better hurry up and find that uniform before someone spots me… Urgggh… this lid weighs a ton!”

Who was talking like that?

“Try this on for size! Mya-ha!”

Suddenly, blue flames spread everywhere. You wanted to scream but you couldn’t even move, let alone talk. Two options appeared in front of you again.

> BWAAAH?!

> F- fire?!

What were these options? You clicked on a random option.

“Now to grab the goods… What?! You ain’t supposed to be awake!”

When you opened your eyes, a talking cat? And a strange room? But for a second, something seemed familiar…

Two options appeared in front of you again:

> A talking… weasel?!

> F-floating coffins?!

You clicked the first option. With your click, words without consent came out of your mouth again.

“How… How DARE YOU! I am no WEASEL! I’m Grim , sorcerer extraordinaire!”

The cat shouted? But wait a minute Grim? Now when you look carefully, this room, these scenes were just like the game you played, Twisted Wonderland.

“Tch. Whatever. You…human! Just gimme your uniform, and be quick about it! Cause if you don’t…you’re gonna regret it!”

Two options appeared in front of you again:

> S-somebody help!

> Getting roasted alive by a weasel!? What will I dream next ?

You clicked on one of the options on the screen and your legs started running on their own… when you finally stopped, two options appeared again on the screen that you thought was invisible to everyone except you (Grim never talked about the screen, that's why you came to this conclusion).

> Where am I?

> If this is a dream, I'm ready to wake up now.

When you clicked on one of the options, Grim's voice came from behind you.

"Foolish human! Did you really think you could slip away from ME? Now unless you wanna get burned to a crisp,take off that- Me-YEOW! That hurt!what gives?"

Just like in the prologue of the game, the man you thought was Crowley came. You weren't listening to Crowley while he was saying something. You were trying to understand the strangeness of the events. Everything seemed real, as if it couldn't be a dream, but you weren't in control of your body… Two options appeared on the screen that you thought was invisible again:

> Student…?

> Gate…?

You clicked on one of the options. Then Crowley gave you the explanations you know. And two options appeared on the screen again:

> So those coffins are like…gateways?

> I think something blew the lid of mine.

You quickly clicked an option. Apparently this screen was only visible to you. The man you thought was Crowley had never talked about this screen… Two options appeared on the screen again and you clicked the option you chose… Crowley’s answer confirmed your guess. You were in Twisted Wonderland?..

The screen appeared in front of you again.

….

The movement restrictions have been lifted. You have regained your ability to speak and move. Now you can talk and move as you wish.

….

Y/N L/N Welcome to Twisted Wonderland.

Main quest: Reach your happy ending with your true love before the main story ends.

Track the love meters of the protagonists to find out their love for you, and increase their love meters to 100%. Reach your happy ending before the main story ends.

Time limit: End of the main story

Punishment: Death

Reward: ???

….

You opened your mouth, you could move! But wait a minute, is everything real then? As you recall, Twisted Wonderland wasn't an Otome game. But if everything was real... what would you do?

Heartslabyul

Riddle Rosehearts

Red-haired, tough and disciplined Heartslabyul dorm leader. If you follow his route, you will start at zero, but with the end of the prologue and the start of Book 1, his interest in you will drop to minus due to your friends Ace, Deuce and Grimm. Especially if you argue with him one-on-one, his love percentage, which is already at minus, will drop even more.

But don't worry, Riddle, who feels ashamed and regretful for what he made you go through after the overblot he experienced at the end of the first book, can increase his love percentage from minus to zero or even plus.

It will be easier to approach Riddle after the overblot incident. Especially after the overblot he experienced, while people stay away from him, your being by his side will fuel his love for you. So you can expect sudden increases in his love meter.

He likes to have tea with you, attend unbirthday parties and have study dates. Especially when you ask him to explain a question you are stuck on, he literally melts when you approach him while he is explaining the question to you. He will have difficulty of maintaining his facial expressions and tone of his voice.

However, there is one thing you should pay attention to. That is Riddle's controlling personality. Although he is fine in normal mode, the same cannot be said for dark mode. For this reason, you should be careful in your choices. Although some choices increase Riddle's love level, they can put him in dark mode.

In dark mode, Riddle initially isolates you from your friends under the excuse of studying without you noticing, then this progresses and before you know it, he even chooses the tea you drink. He controls your entire life. In dark mode, Riddle does not want you to be interested in anyone other than himself or be friends. Everyone is a potential threat to him. If you do not stop him in time, he can go as far as imprisoning you in his own room.

Trey Clover

Tall, kind and helpful, the vice dorm leader of heartslabyul. If you are following the Trey route, I recommend that you do not expect a sudden increase in Trey's love meter, unlike Riddle. Although Trey is affectionate and gentle, you can raise the love meter very slowly, and after a while, you may not be able to raise it at all.

Trey usually likes to help you with your studies and bake with you. However, he swears that your baking dates will be the end of him. When you giggle and wipe his face when he get flour on his face, when you lick your finger to taste the cream, or when you feed him something with your own hands, his heart beats so fast that he swears he will have a heart attack.

But he always reminds himself to control himself. He is your reliable, gentle, and loving senpai. He scolds himself for thinking such things about you. Because of this, your relationship progresses a little slowly.

Although Trey is a sweet, affectionate, and calm person, some of your choices and words can put him in dark mode.

It is very difficult to distinguish the difference between Trey in dark mode and Trey in normal mode. He never shows anything, he is always smiling, calm, and affectionate... This is what makes him dangerous. He manipulates you without you even realizing it. Going out with friends? Oh, Trey bought you tickets to the movies you wanted to go to, but if you don't want to go, you can go out with your friends. Did you make a new friend and are you spending "too much" time with them? Trey heard some nasty gossip about them... It was all your choice. Trey didn't force you to do anything.

Cater Diamond

Bright, social butterfly, 3rd year heartslabyul student Cater Diamond. If you follow Cater's route, it won't be hard to meet him, but it won't be easy to get close to him. Although Cater seems like a cheerful, relaxed, fun and friendly person, it won't be easy to pass through his walls. If you remember the fine details about his from the scenes you played in the game before and use this information to get close to him, it can be easier to get close to him.

You usually go on Cafe dates with Cater. And whenever you go out, Cater doesn't forget to take dozens of photos. Every time he takes a photo of you, he tells you how sweet and cute you look. He also doesn't forget to upload the photos he takes to magicam, after all, everyone should know how compatible a couple you are, right? Additional information: Cater loves to wear matching couple clothes with you. You can see that Cater's love meter increases especially when you wear matching clothes on dates.

Appearing closer to others or not revealing your relationship, hiding it or making small mistakes will cause Cater to have doubts and once the seeds of doubt are planted, it is hard to turn back. In dark mode, Cater does not show anything, just like Trey. He just smiles… With his social skills, it will not be difficult for Cater to isolate you. You see, rumors about you are everywhere and you have nothing to do but cry on Cater's shoulder. Because of the rumors, no one talks to you anymore and you are becoming more and more lonely. But don't worry, your prince charming Cater believes in you and is by your side.

Ace Trapolla

Ace Trappola, a mischievous first-year student of Heartslabyul. The first person you meet, although your first meeting was not that good, you quickly became close friends, just like in the game. Since you are close friends and in the same class, it is not very difficult to get close to Ace and increase his love meter since you spend most of your time together. The only problem is that he and Grimm are always causing you trouble and Ace is annoying.

You usually go out with Ace to cafes or on study dates. Even though Ace doesn't like studying, he likes it when you get close to him while explaining topics or explaining solutions to problems or when he watches you study. Why else would he go on a study date with you? Another activity Ace likes is when you watch him practice basketball, after all he wants you to see how cool he is. Ace also likes movie night and playing cards at the Ramshackle dorm and he visits the Ramshackle dorm often. He loves the way you get angry when you lose in every game, especially when you catch him cheating.

Now let's talk about Ace's jealousy problem. If you are not careful and neglect him, it can put Ace in dark mode. In dark mode, Ace reveals himself a little. His jokes and words are especially focused on breaking your self-confidence. However, he tries not to show it. He doesn't give you a chance to spend time with others and starts to show possessive behavior. He doesn't let you question him. He manipulates you into thinking you are inadequate and that he should be your only concern.

Your only concern should be Ace, after all, you should be thankful to him for being with a weak, magicless person like you.

Deuce Spade

Deuce Spade, a first-year student of Heartslabyul who helps you in every way, and who gets into more trouble as he tries to stay out of trouble. If you are following the Deuce Route, it won't be very difficult for you to get close to him. As in the story line, you meet in the prologue section. Since you are in the same class, you have the opportunity to get very close to him.

You usually make him study in your free time. You try to help him with the subjects he has difficulty with. Honestly , Deuce is as grateful as he is embarrassed about this. Spending your valuable time with him makes him feel special.

When you find out about his not-so-pleasant past that he hides, comforting him and encouraging him on his path to becoming an honor student increases his love meter a lot.

It's not easy to get into the dark mode Deuce route so don't worry. However, if you do get into dark mode Deuce will become more Clingy than usual. He's always afraid that you might leave him. If he sees you close to someone else he might get into a fist fight with that person when you're not around. But please don't leave him, you're his everything!

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reiderwriter · 10 months ago

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Okay but, flirty reader majority pointed at Reid, and the scene where he has to get hosed down and says "I'mma bout to get naked, I don't think you wanna see that" and reader's just like raising her hand and says "don't worry I'll stay". And after she walks out to go to the hospital and sees everyone and with an open mouth and wide eyes just goes " woah" cause big dick energy

A/N: Hi, thank you so much for your request! I've been a bit sick lately, so I haven't had a chance to write much, but this was fun and quick to write! I might do a part 2 with the actual smut in the future, so if that's something people would want let me know in the comments!!

Warnings: suggestive content, public dirty talk?

“I really want to see that.”

You heard the words but weren't sure where they'd come from for the longest time. It had been a confusing morning, with a high alert for anthrax and your coworker trapping himself inside a contaminated lab to save you from dying a presumably very painful death, you couldn't be blamed for not realizing that you'd said the words in question.

He'd meant the words sarcastically, of course, and they'd warned Morgan off immediately with a chuckle and a “You better survive this, kid,” but you'd stood rooted to the earth until he'd repeated them again.

“Y/N, they're going to strip me down. You don't want to see that.”

“I really do, though.” Your eyes unabashedly trailed down the contours of his body, soaked from the hoses currently decontaminating him. You could've sworn that he was moving in slow motion as his hand pushed back his hair and cleared his face of water.

If there weren't this many CDC agents around, you'd have likely joined him in his impromptu shower to feel your way along the lines of his clothing, checking to see what was outline and what was the thick layers of shirt and pants that unfortunately still obstructed your view.

Another minute of you ogling him went by before your eyes finally returned to anywhere near his, and you realized that your desire for the man could no longer pass for camaraderie.

“You better not die, Spencer. Not before I can enjoy the meal I'm about to sample.”

His doctors were either ignoring the conversation completely or were busy focusing on other things, and luckily, they didn't react to your words. Other than to take Spencer's temperature one more time when he flushed bright red, and stared at you slack-jawed.

“We're going to have to speed this along, Doctor Reid. Please start unbuttoning your shirt,” one of the hazmatted men said to him, but his eyes were fixed on you.

“Yes, please do, Spencer. It's for your own good. And mine.”

You expected him to blush and fawn again, but his day had been as long and confusing as your own, so you were unsurprised when he looked you directly in the eye and began unbuttoning his shirt. You watched his descent, and your breath faltered, seeing the water drip down his bare skin now.

“I'm not sure which of us is wetter right now,” you tried to joke in earnest, but you felt a sharp jolt of lust in your gut as soon as his hands reached his belt.

“Y/N, you need to leave now. Before you make this any harder for everyone here.” The innuendo in his words were clear, but you were thankful again for the considerate and/or oblivious doctors either side of him bagging up his discarded shirt and jacket.

“Only if you promise I can make your life as hard as I want to when you're in the clear.” You smiled again, hoping the full force of your lust would reach him. Spencer was always oblivious to genuine flirtation, you'd observed enough women throwing themselves on him (had discouraged a few too many with a hand on his arm and a finger playing with the abandoned curls at the back of his neck, too) to know that for sure.

You needed to make your need for him explicit.

“I mean it, Spencer. I really mean it.”

His eyes locked with yours for the last time ad you made to turn around, doing your best to convince him without becoming distractedly horny.

“I know. I'll see you at the hospital.”

“At the hospital? Risky, I like it.” You winked and turned away, leaving him calling back after you as you walked over to the car Derek had pulled around the front of the property.

“Wait, not the hospital! Those beds aren’t comfortable. Y/N! Y/N, really!”

You giggled as you sat down in the car, but you bubbled with anticipation still.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x y/n

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purplecoffee13 · 24 days ago

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NFWMB - PART FIVE*

Summary: “Y/N hasn’t been able to stop thinking about what happened, but it seems like she is not the only one overthinking this time…”

Tropes: innocent!reader x boxer!harry

Wc: 3k

Warnings: smutty scenes, oral (fem receiving), dirty talk, teeny tiny bit of angst ig

A/N: I AM BACK! I finished my exams today and I hurried home to write the rest of this chapter bc I have been itching to do so for the past weeks. I will try not to put as much time in between the next chapters, sorry about that! Love you all and enjoy!!!

General Masterlist

Series Masterlist

It had been three days. Three entire days since the kissing-in-the-car debacle that Y/N had participated in, and she still wasn't over it. How was she supposed to act normal at their class tomorrow? It had plagued her mind ever since she walked into her apartment that Saturday night.

All weekend, she had been contemplating different things. Saturday and Sunday, she was sure she wanted to never see his face again because she couldn't stand the embarrassment. But when Monday rolled around and re-thought everything after coming back from work, she realized that she should probably be mature and talk to him.

However, that resulted into her pacing around her room like a maniac with the phone in her hand, his number ready to dial. For the past twenty minutes she had been trying to convince herself to just press that call button and get it over with.

"C'mon..." Y/N growled to herself. She stopped in her tracks, took a deep breath, and finally called him. Her hands were sweating as the dial tone sounded over and over again, and the nerves she felt were sure to explode her stomach, but she kept breathing and waited for Harry to pick up.

The distant sound of a phone ringing took Y/N’s attention away from her own attempted call. Her heart began beating even faster as she walked towards her front door, and sure enough, when looking through her peephole, she saw Harry standing in front of her door.

As she took the lock off, Y/N broke up the call and putting her phone in her pocket. Harry's eyes were wide at the door opening all of a sudden, but he still managed to muster an awkward smile amidst his shock before he greeted her.

"Hi." He said quietly.

"Hi." She greeted back, unsure of what to do or say or feel. "uhm, what are you doing here?"

The question came out so soft, as if she was scared to ask it, not ready for the consequences his answer may bear. Maybe it was true; she had always had the feeling that her body was better at communicating her true feelings than her brain was.

"I need to talk to you." Harry said, his tone serious enough for Y/N's chest to start pressing on her, but a soft edge to it nonetheless. "Can I come in?"

She nodded, opening the door wider and letting Harry inside her apartment. He walked in and silently observed the place. Y/N felt oddly tense as she waited for him to take it all in, but he was quite quick to turn around. In the seconds that he stood there, entirely quiet, Y/N deduced the obvious: he was awaiting some instructions from her.

"Go sit on the couch, do you want something to drink?" She asked, already heading for the kitchen. Harry sat down like she told him to, but shook his head.

"No thank you, just wanna talk. Can you... sit down?" His difficulty to meet her eye and the apprehension behind his words had Y/N immediately head for the couch and sit down next to him.

"What did you want to talk about?" She asked innocently, like she wasn’t the reason this awkwardness existed in the first place.

"About last Saturday." He answered. You began to shake your head, cheeks already reddening from the shame that washed over you.

"Harry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"Just— hold on," He interrupted her. "I said something, that night, I can't help but think that you didn't take it how I meant it. And it has been eating at me all weekend because I'd hate to be the fool who accidentally rejected you."

Harry's eyes bored into Y/N's until she couldn't take the intensity of it anymore and looked down. He leaned forward, putting his hand on her leg. She studied his fingers as they slowly caressed her skin.

"Harry, it's okay. I misinterpreted it, you don't have to make excuses to make me feel better." She shrugged her shoulders, hoping to prematurely dodge any bullets that might have ended up with her crying otherwise.

"I'm not!" He protested. "I— Y/N, look at me."

When she didn't instantly comply, Harry's fingers traced up to her chin and redirected her face towards him, forcing her to meet his gaze. His thumb slowly stroked her chin as he took in every inch of her face.

"I wanted it." He said slowly, making sure she heard every word he says. Slowly leaning in, he added: "Really bad."

His lips hovered near hers, so close it was nearly sending her into a frenzy, but far away enough for him to assess her reaction on his movements. But Y/N was an open book, a reactive person when it came to these desires. She couldn't feign disinterest as she had never felt this strongly about someone in such a perverted manner before. Harry mouth slowly curled up into a smirk.

"Can I show you how badly I wanted it?" He asked, the heat of his breath reaching her face and making her core pulsate. The only thing Y/N could do was nod, and before she knew it, Harry's lips closed in on hers.

A soft whine escaped her throat as he kissed her, the desperation of her body unshielded under his roughly delicate touch. Nothing seemed to make sense as he slowly slipped his tongue into her mouth and pushed her back on the couch, nothing but him.

Harry leaned forward, not taking his mouth off Y/N as she sat against the armrest. He hovered over her, his body between her spread legs. One of his hands was holding onto her waist, while the other one kept him up by holding onto the armrest.

As their tongues danced around each other, Harry's hand slipped down from her waist towards her inner thighs, and Y/N felt her panties getting wet at the suggestive caresses of her skin. She put her hands on Harry's shoulders and pushed him back a little bit, their lips now apart. Still caught up in the heat of the moment, Harry mindlessly trailed his kisses down her jaw and then onto her neck.

"Harry." Y/N tried to get his attention, but his name sounded more like an erotic plea, and caused a growl to sound from his lips, followed by a rougher treatment on her neck. Her eyes nearly rolled into the back of her head as his lips sucked at that sensitive skin of her, and a small whine fell from her as he bruised her neck.

"Ha— hmm... Harry!" She exclaimed. "S— stop."

Within a millisecond, or at least it felt like that, Harry's hands and mouth were removed from her. His face was filled with worry as he took in hers.

"Are you okay? Did I go too far?" He began asking, but she was quick to shake her head.

"No! It's just— I haven't really, done much of this before. I don't have a lot of experience and uhm, I just wanted you to know that before we... proceeded." Y/N explained, voice near trembling as she spoke. Harry's eyes softened, and his face pulled into a soft smile.

"Thank you for telling me." He said, leaning forward and giving her a kiss before pulling back, sitting up straight. "I just have one question, though."

Y/N nodded, big doe eyes staring right at him as that innocent smile transformed into a smug grin.

"Can I show you what I actually wanted to do last Saturday?" He asked, stroking her already spread legs. Before she knew it, the answer fell from Y/N's lips.

"Yes."

He let out a satisfied hum before his hands grabbed at her shorts and pulled them down along with her underwear, leaving her bare cunt to be exposed to him. Y/N blushed, feeling slightly embarrassed at how exposed she was, but the fascination that twinkled in Harry's eyes washed most of her insecurities away. She watched carefully as he leaned down and his fingers began stroking her folds.

Y/N held her breath in anticipation, curiously waiting for Harry to continue, and when he finally put his hands on her clit, she couldn't help but shift in her seat a bit at the tingling sensation.

"O— oh!" She shrieked when she felt Harry's tongue attached itself to her clit, his middle finger now paying more attention to slowly beginning to slide in and out of her. Y/N tried to control her breathing to the best of her abilities as Harry explored her sopping and pulsating core.

Y/N's mind had gone all fuzzy from the sweet feeling of his touch on her sensitive parts. It was impossible to focus on anything else than Harry, and even if it was, she wouldn't dare take her eyes off of him anyway. It was addictive, the way he was ravishing her like she was a culinary meal, and it felt glorying.

Harry temporarily removed his mouth from her heat, and looked up at Y/N before saying: "C'mon, angel. Tell me how it feels."

Her heart skipped a beat at the nickname she'd grown to love ever since the first time he said it, and she tried to control her whines as she responded.

"So— ah! So good..." She managed to reply, her knuckles turning white from balling up her fists in an attempt to not come too early. Harry's tongue swept over her clit in such an intoxicating way, and his now two fingers pumping in and out of her was only getting her closer to her inevitable climax.

Harry moaned at her verbal approval, and picked up the pace of both his mouth and his fingers, leaving her nothing but a whimpering mess under him. This was surely going to be the death of her, wasn’t it?

"Harry— I think I'm going to..." She ran out of breath before she could finish your sentence, and she began convulsing around him, legs trembling as her orgasm began to reach her like a wave building up. And then just like that, it crashed.

With a cry of his name and a few profanities that followed, the sensual waves of her release hit Y/N. The release was slow and long, and one of the most satisfying ones she'd ever had. Harry's touch stayed on her skin, helping her ride out her high.

When he finally backed away, Y/N was still breathing heavily from what she had just experienced. Wide eyed, she observed how he licked his lips before he looked up at her. She could've come again from the sight of that alone.

"D'you want some water?" Harry suddenly asked, getting up from the couch and walking over to your kitchen. She followed him with her eyes, mouth agape as he went through her kitchen cabinets until he stumbled upon two glasses and filled them with water. As he returned to the couch, he raised a brow, indicating that he was still waiting on an answer.

"Uhm, yes, thank you." Y/N stumbled as he handed her the glass. She took a few sips, scanning him while she drank. He was so casual all of a sudden, leaning back against the couch with his legs spread like that... there was something cocky about it and Y/N wasn't sure if she wanted to roll her eyes at it or jump his bones.

Possibly both, at the same time.

Y/N put her glass down and slowly crawled over to Harry, who sniffed a laugh at her wobbly movements on the way too squishy couch. She hoped it would at least come off as cute, now that her attempt at being sexy had been trampled by her own furniture.

As the laughter from both parties died down, Y/N took it upon herself to slowly start kissing Harry's neck. Her heartbeat rose when she felt him shifting in his seat, a pained sigh escaping his throat. Meticulously, she dragged her hand down his chest until it reached his pants, and she began unbuckling his belt.

She was surprised when she felt his hand pull hers away, and stopped her actions to see what was going on. When she saw his clenched jaw, she frowned.

"Are you okay?"

"You don't have to do that angel." He said, tilting his head a bit. She slowly shook her head.

"Oh, alright." She said, and felt a pang in her chest at the idea that she could've done something wrong. Harry took both of her hands, cupping his over them.

"I’d like to save it for next time." He suggested, the slight raise of his brow adding a certain playfulness to his reply. The hint of a smile on his face filled her with a warm feeling, and she quickly found herself nodding at what Harry had said.

“Plus, I have to get my beauty rest… I’ve got a long day tomorrow. I teach this private self-defense class, client’s got me working till late.” He joked, eyes beaming when a giggle fell from her lips. Y/N took her bottom lip between her teeth, stomach fluttering as she took in the painfully beautiful, funny, charismatic man in front—or well, under her.

“Really? Is she any good?” She teased back, brows raising in surprise when Harry nodded.

“Difficult to teach tho.” He responded.

“Why’s that?” Y/N questioned, genuine curiosity dripping from her tone. Harry took his eyes off her and shamelessly lowered his gaze to her body as his hands, that had dug into her waist, slowly began to trail down to her ass.

“‘S just so hard to concentrate…” He said lowly, and she felt her core heating up again at the sole sound of Harry’s voice. Her cheeks flushed alike at what he was implying, and she felt like an animal with the way her body reacted to him.

Y/N remained as quiet as she could, savoring Harry’s touch on her bare skin. She would have closed her eyes, had she not been too mesmerized by her face to do so.

Nerves swirled in her stomach as she watched Harry’s stare trail upwards again, only to stop at her lips. Gradually, he leaned forward, closing the gap between the two’s mouths. Y/N couldn’t help the sigh that escaped her when Harry put his lips on her again, and much like the touch of his hands on her, she relished in the way his tongue circled around hers, and she was surprised at how well their bodies captured the connection that she had been unable to explain in words.

It was safe to say that Y/N was disappointed when at last Harry pulled away, but she couldn’t be mad at him, not with that face of his.

Her eyes widened when he got up all of a sudden, hands still holding up her thighs in the few moments before she wrapped them tightly around him in response to the sudden movement. He sniffed a laugh, which Y/N was only able to hear because her arms were locked around Harry’s neck and her face was only a few centimeters away from his. The urge to smile almost prevailed over her shock.

Harry’s hands let go of Y/N’s thighs, and she lowered her legs in response, putting her feet on the ground again and removing herself from his touch completely.

As they walked towards the front door, Y/N found herself to be a bit gloomy. She didn’t want him to leave, he was so fun to be around. He made her not worry, which was a miracle because Y/N always worried. And she knew she’d go back to worrying and overthinking the second she’d be alone again, so the prospect of Harry going away was not the most fun. She had to remind herself that she’d see him tomorrow, though.

Y/N opened the door, waiting as Harry put on his coat. When he finally had, he turned to her one last time.

“Sleep tight, angel.” He said, and with that, walked right out the door. Y/N croaked out a weak ‘bye’, but she was pretty sure she’d heard the elevator ding by then.

It took her a minute to recover physically before turning off her lights in the living room and floating towards her bathroom, where she smiled like an idiot all the way through brushing her teeth.

It wasn’t until her head hit the pillow that what she dreaded came along again: that tiresome worry. Thoughts and scenarios filled her head as she lied in bed, watching the ceiling as if it would grant her answers, or peace.

It was as if, with Harry, nothing else truly mattered. Not necessarily in the corny, dramatic way, but rather in the sense that it felt like the outside world wasn’t that much of a factor in Y/N’s decisions, nor did she have the feeling that it should be whenever she was around him. But when he was gone, it would all start to matter again and suddenly she found herself doubting whether dating Harry would even be a good idea.

What would her parents think? What would Sophie think? Would she be viewed as less professional by her co-workers for dating her trainer? Would it impact Harry’s reputation—

She stopped herself. Probably not, considering Harry was a man.

It was with a frown that Y/N eventually dozed off into a deep slumber. Not even in her dreams she was safe from the anxiety that plagued her, a nightmare about being fired stirring her awake at around four in the morning. She was more exhausted when she woke up than when she went to bed.

But despite all of it, her body still buzzed in anticipation of tonight’s class…

Taglist: @meetmeatyourworst @mema10 @seafoamwhispers @namoreno @inkedskin @fangirl509east @mellamolayla @lizsogolden @prettydelilah @kierramcduffie @harry2121 @babegoals @hermionelove @bitchidontpost @lomlolivia

#harry styles #writing #fanfic #fanfiction #blurb #harry #one direction #one shot #smut #excerpt #harryedwardstyles #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry edward styles

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scarletwinterxx · 9 days ago

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in the quiet of us - choi seungcheol imagine

tbh this fic came about while listening to milk teeth and did you like her in the morning by niki 🥺 dare i say i'm getting better with the angst haha ofc it's gonna end in a cute way

anywayss i hope you like this one🤍

for my other svt fics, check them here

if you want, u can buy me coffee(totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank you🥺💛

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(pics not mine, credits to rightful owner)

You and Seungcheol have been dating for nearly a year, and on the surface, the two of you seem to be an ideal couple—you’re the shy, introspective type, while he’s outgoing, expressive, and always the center of attention.

Your love for Seungcheol is quiet. It’s gentle, steady, and sometimes, you feel like it’s almost too quiet to be enough for someone like him. You have always loved him in a subtle, understated way, hoping that your affection is enough without needing to shout about it. Seungcheol, on the other hand, is the type who wears his heart on his sleeve. He’s affectionate, always complimenting you and showing his love in grand, showy gestures.

He never shies away from declaring his feelings to the world.

You will never tell him your reasons for holding back when the truth is you love him with every piece of yourself. You’re terrified that your calm, reserved nature won’t compare to the passion and intensity of his past relationships. You about his ex-girlfriend, the one he once spoke of like she was his soul mate. Cheol has always been open about his past, and while he never directly compares you to her, you can’t help but feel like there are times you’re falling short of the vibrant, adventurous, free-spirited image of the girl who’s still a part of his memories.

You and Seungcheol are sitting together on the couch, having just returned from a weekend getaway. You’re quiet, lost in thought.

"That trip was amazing, huh? I love how we just got to be spontaneous and go wherever we felt like." Cheol says while looking through the photos of your quick weekend getaway with some of his friends, you watch the big smile on his face

"Yeah... it was nice." softly you say, Cheol being the mind reader he is, immediately looks at you when he hears your voice

Leaning closer to you he asks, "You don’t sound convinced. What’s on your mind?"

“I’ve been thinking a lot about... us, actually."

Cheol felt his heart skip a beat, and not in a good way. There’s so many breakup scenes that start off with those same words

"Us? What about us?" he asks

"I know you’ve had past relationships. I know you loved… you loved her. And I... I don’t know, Seungcheol. I can’t help but feel like... maybe my way of loving you isn’t enough."

Your sudden confession makes him sit straight up, wondering where all of this is coming from, "What do you mean? Of course, it’s enough. You love me in your own way—"

"But it’s so quiet. I’m not like the others. I’m not as... exciting or loud or memorable. I don’t do the big, dramatic gestures like they did. I’m just... me." you cut him off

You see hurt flash across his eyes, wishing you never said anything. You should’ve just said nothing. To avoid his stare, you look down at your hands that were resting on your lap

"You’re not being fair to yourself. You’re everything I want, just the way you are." he whispers, feeling more sad and disappointed that you think that way about yourself when you’re quite literally everything to him.

Softly, almost to yourself you say "I’m just scared that you’re going to wake up one day and realize that I’m nothing like the girls you’ve loved before. That you’ll want... someone more. Someone who loves you in a bigger, louder way."

He looks at you, a thousand things running through his mind.

"Look at me." he tells you but you don’t move from where you’re sitting

"I just... I don’t know if I can keep pretending that everything’s fine when I feel so... small in your love."

Gently turning your chin to face him, he smiles at you

"You don’t have to pretend with me. Not ever."

"But what if I’m not what you need? What if you want someone who—"

Cutting you off gently, he speaks again "I don’t want anyone else. I want you. I love you, the way you love me, and it’s more than enough. You don’t need to be like anyone else, because there’s no one like you. You love me in a way that’s so quiet, so steady—it’s the kind of love I’ve always needed, even if I didn’t realize it until now."

You can’t stop the tears falling down on your cheeks, Cheol does that for you. He wipes them away one by one, with each one he says a vow in his mind to never let anything or anyone even himself make you cry in this lifetime.

"But... I don’t know how to love any other way. I’m not like you. I can’t... do all the big things you do for me." you whimper

"You don’t need to. I don’t need grand gestures. I don’t need loud. I need you, exactly as you are." he shakes his head, holding your face between his hands

He waits for you to say anything else but you don’t. You just embrace him, letting yourself fall apart infront of the only man who knows how to fix it all. And he lets you be. He lets you cry in his arms until you fall asleep, he lets you let go of what you’re feeling. Whispering words of assurance and affirmation, letting you know you’re not alone.

You’ll never feel alone as long as you have him.

The next morning, after a long conversation, you and Seungcheol are sitting in the kitchen together. He already made breakfast for the two of you.

You look at him, still feeling a bit unsure but more at ease.

“So... you’re okay with the way I love you? Even if it’s not loud?" you’re the first one to speak

Softly smiling, he takes your hand "Your love is exactly what I’ve always needed. You love me with a softness, a patience, and I’m so grateful for it. I love how you take the time to listen to me, to show you care in the quietest ways. You don’t have to change who you are for me. I want you."

This makes you smile, little by little your worries disappear. You know it’s going to take some time before you feel okay, it’s a war between you and mind and yet here’s Cheol ready to fight that battle with you.

"I’ve always loved you like that. I just didn’t think it would ever be enough." you whisper

He walks over to your side, leaning in and kissing your forehead) "It’s more than enough. You’re more than enough. Always have been." he tells you

Later that day, Seungcheol left to get some errands done. When he comes back, he surprises you with a small gesture—no grand gesture, just a simple note with a favorite flower from the garden.

"Seungcheol, this is... really sweet." you smile up at him

Leaning against the doorframe, looking at you with affection "I know it’s not a big, loud thing, but I hope it says what I’ve been trying to tell you: I love you exactly as you are. In your quiet, beautiful way."

"I love you, too. In my own way." chucking softly, you shoot him a smile. Walking towards where he was, you throw your arms around him. His arms immediately wraps around you,

"And I’ll never want anything else."

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squiddy-god · 2 months ago

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Hello! I saw the Twst post you did the other day another Anon asked for about the golden retriever bf and Savanaclaw, and I adored it! It was adorable, so I was hoping for some other Twst characters (of your choice) to put with a golden retriever bf!

Hehehe more golden retriever bf as per request, i decided to do some that feel like they would be fun and silly, i'm really happy that i've been getting so many male/masc reader requests, it feels really good

Malleus, divus, Floyd, vil

♥︎request open♥︎

Additional edit : the way I genuinely struggled to pick a picture of vil because he's to pretty

Cw : fluff, golden retriever reader!, male/masc! Reader. Reader is yuu/mc/you but is a beastman

Malleus

Oh he thinks you are just the cutest

Real sunshine x gloomy pair here because he is so in love with you

It always makes him chuckle that you are so eager to please and spend time with him, practically tackling him with a wagging tail when he visits ramshackle

His tail also wags when he happy to see you

Finds himself patting your head often, like hes always giving you head pats because your floppy golden ers are just too endearing for the dragon to resist

Still calls you child of man but he begins to rethink the name in favor of beastie because you are his cute little beast

Love it when he ruffles your head and and your tail wags because it makes him so so special

He gets a bit jealous when others pet your head, but hes quick to come to your air if people touch you without your consent or if they make you uncomfortable

(whos the real gaur dog lmao)

Divus

Obviously in this one you are a grown adult and not a student,,,more like working as a teacher's aid or janitor

I could not resist writing for him

Hes so perfect for this prompt because you are his adorable sweet puppy

He likes to gift you outfits that match your hair,fluffy ears because style will always be priority

The man absolutely calls you darling and good boy exclusively. Your name? Haha that's funny.

He is delighted to see that your world has/is exclusively beastmen, it means that you will have a slightly easier time adjusting with stuff.

Matching accessories all day every day, he’s particle to dalmatians obviously but he keeps a little keychain on his phone with a little golden retriever on it to remind him of you

Trust your ears and hair will never have a better hair cut, truly this man is a wizard (hahaha) with those scissors

Floyd

Still calls you shrimpy but he alternates between shrimpy and pupppppppyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy said exactly like that

Whos kicked puppy expression is more powerful?you or floyd? You because ironically unlike you, floyd has a biting problem

I think he likes to play fight/wrestle

Like out of nowhere you get tackled and now its a fight lmao

He also likes if you bite him with affection because he bites with affection too

Teases you relentlessly about how much your tail wags when you see him but will also get so pouty if you see him and your tail isn't just going crazy

You are his good luck charm for basketball

Vil

Pt two of perfect ears and tail

He wont have you just walking around looking like some mangy hound, you are his good boy and he will have you looking your best

I think he would be really into those pet safe hair/fur dyes- here me out he really like when you two match purples, or any color you want because ofc

Maybe he dyes little hearts/ a cute little poison apple on one of your ears (if you want)

I also like to think that when you do really well at something he cant help but give you the headpats you rightfully deserve

I think vil gets very stressed, usually it boils over at small things, you see a lot of the “behind the scenes” vil, even more thank someone as close to hims as rook, and you de-stress him a lot, petting your ears and being aloud to relax with cuddles is a good way to relax him.

Vil with those longer sharp acrylic nails and he gives the best head scratches (this is a call form inside the house i need this pls)

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lucysarah-c · 4 months ago

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—

A little sneak peak from the Arranged marriage Omegaverse Alpha! Levi x Omega! Reader fic I've been working on!

Let me know what you think as I had been writing some chapters and so far this is one of my favourite scenes.

—

The pressure that his fingers applied to the bridge of his nose was so strong that the pain of it overcame the migraine. Strong footsteps echoed in the corridors as cadets moved aside to make way. Since the Scouts were almost wiped out, more and more people had been joining their ranks, and Levi was not enjoying the crowded halls.

"The day I decide to call all this shit off, I'd like to see them surviving without me," Levi thought, clenching his teeth. The stress was taking a toll on him lately. The military was expanding so much, particularly the Scouts, and they simply lacked soldiers in higher positions to handle everything from mundane tasks like organizing lines to making highly important decisions regarding the Marley issue.

Swinging the door of his chambers open, his eyes fell on her. She was looking out of the window, book in hand and cat on lap, dying of boredom as if she were either waiting for rescue or for her death. His grimace was a mix of empathy and annoyance. He had insisted at least five times that she could help in the kitchen, sew uniforms, or work in the laundry room. All his proposals had fallen on deaf ears. Yes, he pitied her, closed up in his office all day and night with nothing better to do. But her privileged upbringing, which made her repulse the idea of helping with anything related to housework, rubbed him the wrong way.

And the horrendous day he was having, having to listen to all of Zeke’s demands from the other side of the damn world, was simply not helping. Slamming the door shut made her turn and look at him.

"Pack your stuff, we're moving," he spat out, already moving to his room to gather the few belongings he actually had. He threw the black trousers of his uniform out of the drawers onto the bed to pack them, regretting the decision as soon as he saw his immaculate, perfectly washed trousers covered in cat hair.

"Moving? Moving where?" Y/N jumped from her place at the window and followed him, excited. Her eyes shone brightly, feeling her prayers had been answered.

Eyes shut as tight as his clenched teeth, he took a deep breath in and out. He was fond of animals, and the white Persian cat was lovely, but the fur was something he wasn’t getting used to easily, and it just added to his day.

"Where are we moving?" she insisted, not sensing his lack of patience. "Are we finally moving to the Capital facility?"

Levi, trying to find any remaining good mood inside him, turned to his side and raised an eyebrow. "No," he said, "To the south."

The excitement dropped substantially, and she frowned at him. "We ARE in the south."

That made Levi quickly realize this was not going to be a quick and easy conversation. "No, we are in Wall Rose."

"I'm not moving to Shiganshina," she said, arms crossed, eyebrows drawn together, and her voice raising.

Levi sighed as he folded one uniform. "Lucky for you," he said, each word dripping with his remaining patience, "we're not going there."

"Then… where?"

Levi knew he should have delivered the news more gently, but he had no time to spare and no energy left to deal with her lately. "South, we're setting up a camp next to the coast. Construction has already taken place, so we'll have a room. Pack your stuff; we're leaving by horse to arrive sooner and organize everything. The luggage will be taken by carts that will probably take a week to reach."

"What?—NO!" she quickly complained, her voice filled more with tears than anger. "I don't want to go to the end of the shitty world!"

"The soldiers from Marley are already arriving, and we need to be there to make sure everything evolves as planned—"

"Aren't you listening to me?!" She screamed loudly enough for Levi to close his eyes at how it reverberated in his ears, only fueling his headache. "I'm NOT moving there. We will be in the middle of nowhere; there’s no communication with the walls. I want to be closer to my friends and family, not there."

The air began to fill with her scent, demanding she wasn’t submitting. Challenging him, and Levi felt how each breath he took through his nose was tinged with it. He had no good temper left, and her insistence on asserting dominance was the final straw. Her even daring to assert dominance over him. Her, the omega the government had saddled him with.

Turning to his right, his piercing eyes locked onto her. "Don’t," Levi ordered, his own pheromones mixing with hers and warning her. The stare of a high-breed alpha, his own body warning her that fighting with him was a bad idea. Maybe it was because he had been hearing demands from Marley soldiers and allies all day long, people challenging his authority. But Levi wasn’t going to allow an omega to step on his dominance. He had been, in his opinion, more than good and patient with her—probably more than any other alpha would have been. He wasn’t one to use his stare to force omegas to do what he wanted, but he was having none of it.

Lips trembling, fists clenching, deep frown, and her eyes struggling to keep eye contact. Fighting against her own biology, she could feel how each fiber of her body trembled in trying to maintain the resistance. Eventually, she couldn’t keep it up and looked to the side, breaking the stare and lowering her head in submission.

A long sigh left his nose as his demand withdrew once she ceased the claim. “Pack your stuff,” he ordered, lowering his voice sensing that the rebellion was over.

But it hardly was. “I’m not going. I’ll move in with my parents. I’m not going to some rotten, muddy camp in the middle of nowhere.”

Levi shook his head. “You’re coming because that’s the arrangement between your parents and the military board. So pack, and that's the end of the deal.”

“No! I don’t want to go, I’m not going to pack!”

“NO! NO! NO! NO!”

Her complaints echoed in his head as the headache pounded against his skull, his teeth clenching so hard he was even showing them. “ENOUGH!” His hand slammed against the drawer, the loudness of it ceasing all noise. The room fell silent, and the scared cat ran to hide under the bed.

Levi finally turned to fully face her. “We are going to do this whether you like it or not,” his voice harsh and leaving no room for interruptions. “It can be the easy way or the hard way.”

Raising his hand in the air, showing three fingers. “I have a meeting, and in three hours I’ll come back and pick you up. Either you pack and get ready for when I return, or you don’t pack and not only will you be in a shitty, muddy camp at the end of the world stuck with me, but you’ll do it without any of your fancy stuff. And I warn you, there are no stores there.”

As he left the room with the same urgency he came in, he said, “You choose!”

But as the door was slamming shut, a cadet interrupted him. “Ehm… Captain?” The tremble in the kid’s voice indicated he sensed the environment was not conducive to another demand. “Commander Hange needs a signature?”

“Fuck off!”

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kerrslvr · 1 year ago

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london derby // sam kerr x beth england x reader

in which, after spurs vs chelsea ending in a draw, beth and sam end up winning your orgasms, which in that moment, is far better than a super league trophy.

warnings; 18+ strap ons, graphic smut, petnames, dom!sam, dom!beth, sub!reader, fingering, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, squirting, face sitting, probably more but writing this one fried my brain 👍🏼

this is basically just pwp. and it’s filth. and i haven’t written smut in months so it’s all a bit all over the place. but i was so excited to burst back onto the writing scene. sorry. enjoy lesbians xx

"hello?"

your voice echoed through the hotel room when you picked up the phone. it was late enough so that the sun had started to set, although, on a drizzly sunday in london, there wasn't much of a sun to set anyway.

at first you wondered who was calling the hotel phoneline. nobody really knew where you were staying other than your manager, who'd set you up in the hotel for a few days for work, but of course, when the voice sounded on the other end of the line; you realised it couldn't be anybody else.

"hey, sweetheart," beth's sickly sweet voice oozed through the phone, "still in london then, i hear?"

the smirk that planted itself on your lips was one you weren't quite able to remove, and your insides jumped at the thought of beth sneaking into your hotel room.

"yeah," you breathed, "how'd you know i was staying in walthamstow?"

"not just a pretty face, darling," you could hear the smugness in her voice before she'd even spoken, "now listen, i just had a shit game and need to blow off some steam, you up for it?"

after a day of trying to get a headstart on work before a busy few days, you really were up for it.

"you know i'm always up for it, bethy."

"good girl, i'll be there soon."

beth was a semi-frequent hook up of yours, and you both liked the company the other person gave you in and outside of the bedroom, she was older and the power she held was something you both enjoyed, yet she was able to be somebody you saw as a friend.

neither of you were ready for anything serious when you first started hooking up, and so it meant you could both get away with sleeping with other girls while she was at different places in the country.

plus, it also meant you'd gained quite the phonebook of famous faces, and interchanging which of beth's friends you'd chose to sleep with whenever they were playing near you was almost as fun as sleeping with beth herself.

you tried your hardest to keep yourself entertained while you waited, unpacking the rest of your things so they didn't crease in your suitcase, opening a bottle of wine from the mini fridge, you even managed to have just enough time for a quick shower.

as you tightened the belt on the hotel robe, there was a knock at the door in three quick successions, and if you were any more eager to get to the door you would've tripped over your own feet.

from outside the door, beth could hear the pitter-patter of your eager feet, and she waited patiently for you to unhook the latch.

"took long enough." you swung open the door, only to be greeted by not one, but two faces standing at your hotel room door.

there, standing in their respective training gear, stood beth and sam, her opponent from todays match, and another semi-frequent hook up of yours. you were positive your face went redder than a tomato, but your insides juxtaposed the feeling of embarrassment by backflipping into oblivion at the thought of what the two of them could do to you. together.

"had to make a quick pitstop," beth didn't wait for you to step aside so she could enter, and neither did sam. "do you know who sam is, darling? or do i need to make some introductions?"

they both stared at you blankly as you stood at the door, dumbfounded. in all the months you'd been hooking up with beth and her friends, you never expected to be caught out.

"beth's asking you a question, y/n. i suggest you answer her, and i suggest you tell the truth or else it won't end up very well for you, will it, princess?"

"n-no."

"no it won't end well, or no you don't know sam?" beth raised an eyebrow and admired you, as you stood there, silent. "come on, darling, you're on a clock here."

"n-no, it won't end well, yes, i know sam."

sam walked towards you, hands brushing against your robe, and it brought you back to reality. "and, how do you know sam?"

her hands slipped underneath the robe, fingertips cold against the soft, partially damp skin of your shoulders. she knew what she was doing, working you up, teasing you so you'd slip up and beth would know all your secrets. still, she'd probably fucked just as many of your friends as you had hers, so you figured you should call it even.

you looked up at sam, her brown eyes tantalizingly soft, despite holding so much dominance, so much eagerness to fuck the living daylights out of you.

"i know sam because, i, because we..." you took a moment to compose yourself, but sam's hands were roaming across your body under your pointless waffle robe, and beth was standing just as close to you now. "because we fuck too."

sam pushed at the hem of the robe, and it fell to your elbows, announcing your bare chest to the room. beth's hands carressed one of your boobs, and your nipple pebbled in the process. she couldn't help but let out a domineering chuckle.

"thank you for being honest, darling."

your breath hitched when sam's lips echoed the skin of your shoulder, leaving ghost-like kisses to your hot flesh. "you should know, neither of us are very happy. how long have you been lying?"

"not long."

beth's fingers pinched your nipple and you winced, "don't fucking lie."

"only a couple of months," your mouth worked faster than your brain in that moment, "we'd already been hooking up for a while when i started sleeping with sam, bethy. i promise 'm not lying."

sam's lips became more apparent on your skin, and beth continued to play around with your nipples, switching between the both of them with her soft but cold fingertips.

"you were so eager for this to happen that you didn't even bother putting on underwear, did you?" sam cooed, "i could see your tits through the robe before you'd even opened the fucking door."

sam's lips worked back up your arm, kissing around the curve of your boob until she'd latched herself onto a nipple, eliciting a moan from your mouth, and now beth had a free hand she was able to pull the robe off of your body completely, and she watched as your body ignited in goosebumps.

"you wanted this to happen, didn't you, baby? hm?" beth's hand instinctively wrapped around your neck and your lips parted. sam's hands took place of her mouth, pinching, rubbing and nicking at your nipples until they became puffy, just like she wanted them.

"i didn't know you were both going to show up," you shifted on your feet, and despite trying to help it, a smirk brushed across your cheeks, "but it was a nice surprise."

"god, you're in one of those insufferable fucking moods again," sam grunted, pinching both of your nipples together between her thumb and forefinger so hard it sent sharp jolts of pain up through your chest and down to your fingers. she turned to beth, as you reacted with a wince of pain.

"can you fucking stand her when she's in one of these moods?"

"she always seems to do it when she knows i'm pissed off with her, don't you babygirl?"

"no."

beth sucked her teeth, as if proving her point, and sam pulled you closer to her body by your nipples, and once again, instinctually wrapped her hand around your throat. the pain through your chest was intense, and sam's hand stopped a release of noise to tumble from your mouth.

"don't fucking lie," she said through gritted teeth, "beth's told you once, and if we tell you again you'll be left high and dry. do i make myself clear?"

silence fell upon the room and beth rolled her eyes, her hand coming into sharp contact with your bum as punishment for your lack of answer, and sam's hand contracted around your throat, "i said, do i make myself fucking clear?"

"y-yes." you choked out as best you could given your circumstance, and after sam left a hot, searing kiss to your lips, she pulled away from your throat as if she was never gripping it, although the mark of her hand across your neck said otherwise.

"right, here's whats going to fucking happen," beth tilted your face towards her, and you winced at the strain in your neck, "we are going to use you how we want, take out our frustrations on you, and all you have to do is lay there and take it. do you understand?"

"mhm," you nodded, voice gravelly, "i understand."

"good girl," sam cooed, "do you remember your colour system?"

if you weren't so desperate to be fucked you'd have slapped sam round the face. you introduced her - and beth - to the traffic light system. it was as if they were mocking you.

"yes," you breathed, "green for good, orange is i'm okay but i'm almost at my limit and red for stop."

beth's hand came around your face and you flinched, thinking she could read your mind and that she would slap you, but instead she caressed it slowly. "are you scared, angel?"

"n-no," you shrugged, "thought you were going to slap me."

"that's never made you flinch before, though love, has it?" sam cooed, unzipping her jacket and throwing it on top of your robe, and for a minute her face was lost in the fabric of her t-shirt until that too, landed in the pile of clothes behind you. it was as she sunk to her knees that you noticed the captains armband on her bicep, and you gulped. "but then again, maybe beth's doing it wrong."

beth simply rolled her eyes. they were friends, but they were also rivals, on the pitch, and now off the pitch, as they fought to make you cum.

you opened your mouth to speak, but instead the words caught in the back of your throat. sam's tongue trailed your pussy, purposely avoiding the two places you needed her the most, but that still didn't stop the tingling sensation in your tummy from building.

your eyes trailed to beth, who was also pulling her clothes from her body, the muscles in her arms flexing as she pulled off her shirt, and she too, was wearing her captains armband on her bicep, something that let a soft growl leave your lips.

sam's tongue finally found its rightful place on your clit and one hand immediately flung to her hair, a moan tumbling from your mouth. once beth was stripped down to her sports bra and underwear, she came around the back of you and kept you upright so you didn't hurt yourself.

if there was one thing you loved the most about hooking up with sam - it was her pussy eating. you could stand here in this moment for days and never get bored of the feeling. she loved knowing how much you loved it and she was a woman of her craft that never left you unsatisfied.

she settled into a comfier position and allowed herself to go to town on you, making you moan and cry within seconds of taking full control.

"does that feel good, darling?" beth asked, her hands cupping your tits and stimulating your puffy nipples as her lips grazed along your neck and sucked at the spot under your ear, making some blooming red spots of her own on your skin. your other hand found her wrist as you nodded.

"need.. m-more," you breathed, pushing her hand up to your neck, and both her and sam let out chuckles.

"god, youre so fucking needy," sam cooed, the vibrations of her voice making your clit twitch, "does it not embarrass you how needy you actually are?"

you bucked your hips up into sam's face after she'd spoken and it proved her point without you even opening your mouth. beth's lips were rampant on your neck, sucking harsh marks that were almost definitely already turning blue, and you sucked on her finger sloppily.

sam's tongue traced circles on your clit and your legs threatened to buckle at the embarrassing sensitivity. the bubble inside your stomach was building at a rapid rate and sam was purposely using that to her advantage, pulling your clit between her teeth and sucking on it as if it were a sweet.

you reached around to beth, fumbling for the line of her underwear, and when you slipped your finger under the waistband she gasped softly, allowing you to feel her as best you could.

the cotton was damp and you smirked around her finger as your own guided themselves as best they could to her clit through the awkward angle, and when your fingertip met with the bud she pulled away from your neck and bit the lobe of your ear.

"trying to make me cum too, princess? hm?" you nodded as an answer, unable to speak with her finger sitting on your tongue, "shouldn't you at least cum for sam first, baby?"

"she's far too greedy for that." sam's words were muffled and you ground yourself down onto her tongue, which only spurred her on further.

your pussy began to twitch, your breathing started to get heavier, and sam knew you were close to cumming, but she still expected you to ask.

"sam.. 'm gonna.. please can i-"

your own orgasm cut you off, ripping through your muscles like a knife and you were unable to control it. the hand that was in beth's underwear stilled and she held you in place by your neck so you didn't topple over onto the floor, and sam's tongue lay flat against your pussy as you rode out your orgasm.

sam's face glistened as she stood, and you couldn't help the urge to pull her in so you could taste yourself on her lips. she smirked against your skin, "one nil to me i'd say," sam looked across at beth, "what d'you think?"

"i think y/n's got a lot more where that one came from," she teased, releasing you from her grasp and pulling you across to the bed, "so really, sam, i'm not losing just yet."

you landed on the mattress with a soft thud, allowing the girls to admire you for a moment in the darkening room. sam undressed herself fully and crawled up onto the bed first, swiftly followed by beth, and the pair of them hovered over your face. the next few minutes were a blur of lips, unsure of who was kissing who, but it was a sight to behold.

"are you gonna stay nice and still for me, darling?" beth cooed into your ear, sending goosebumps over your arms. all you could do was nod, "i would say you need to stay quiet too, but i can read sam's mind like a book."

the pair of them shared a growing smirk, and your eyebrows furrowed in confusion until you watched sam hook her leg over your chest so she was straddling you, "i'll make sure she stays quiet and still, so don't worry too much about that."

beth's lips traced your hipbones, kissing along every inch of flesh until your leg flinched, while sam eased herself up and up until her pussy was inches from your face. your hands wrapped around her thighs to keep her in place - and to keep them from wandering down to usher beth to hurry up - and she teased you by using her strength to hover above you until beth was ready.

"what's your colour, sweetheart?"

"green, bethy."

one of sam's hands came down and brushed beth's bum as she moved further down your body, a gesture that sent your mind into a frenzy and you whimpered at the sight; although you knew better than to make too much of scene out of the ordeal.

your clit twitched at the sensation of spit trickling around it, and beth was doing her age-old spit trick to lube you up; not that you really needed it.

in the blink of an eye, sam had lowered herself right down onto your face until you had no choice but to use your tongue. you were nowhere near as good as sam or beth - they had a lot more years of experience than you did - but you were damn good.

as your tongue began to kitten lick sam's clit, beth's finger slid knuckle by knuckle deeper into your pussy, and you mewled at the sensation. sam's hands grabbed your boobs for balance, and she began to rock her hips in time with your tongue.

"fucking hell, i forgot how good this tongue really was," sam pulled up and let you regain some air, "hold it still for me then, angel. you know what i want to do."

you poked out your tongue, mouth slack and wide and you let sam sink back down onto it, riding it as if it were a dildo. she pinched a nipple in the process and a whimper tumbled from your mouth and vibrated around her right as beth added another finger, this time your pussy comfortable enough for her to push through further.

"should really have your pussy filled more often, shouldn't you, darling? it's so tight, like a little virgin. i bet you can't wait for one of us to fill it later."

"one of us?" sam questioned, sounding as cool as ever despite your tongue being an inch deep inside her, "i'm just as eager to fill it as you are."

the exchange of words was met with a garbled moan, and you pulled your tongue from sam's pussy so you could breathe momentarily, and you allowed yourself to moan at the movement of beth's fingers, silently praying for her to add another finger.

sam rocked back and forth on your tongue once more, and you licked around her swollen clit every time the tip of your tongue came into contact with it, while beth added another finger inside of you.

your palms started to sweat and you dug your fingers into the muscly flesh of sam's thigh so you were able to keep ahold of her while beth's tongue came into contact with your clit. you took a leaf out of her book and began to mimic the movements of her tongue on sam, to which she let out a loud moan of appreciation.

"god, you've got such a pretty pussy." beth cooed as she pulled away, and when sam leaned down to rub the tip of her nose around your clit and trickle a line of spit down the valley of your walls to meet beth's fingers, you struggled to keep your rhythm.

beth teased you by dragging another finger around your entrance and eagerly licked your sensitive clit in quick motions so you were left a wriggling, moaning mess. your moans vibrated along sam's pussy and she too, was a wriggling, moaning mess on top of you.

your grip released from sam's thigh and you tapped beth's leg, motioning for her to swing her hips round to your hands, which she did, and once again, your fingers found her pussy. beth took a sharp intake of breath and a moan tumbled from her lips when your middle finger began to circle her clit, and now the room was a cacophony of moans that warranted a neighbors complaint.

sam's hips began to rock over your face quicker now that she was starting to feel her orgasm approach, expletives consistently leaving her mouth as one of her hands moved up to her nipple and she played with it in time with yours.

you pushed beth's underwear down her legs as best you could with one hand, and you now had the perfect angle to slide a finger inside of her, and as you slid one into her, she slowly added the third, teasing finger inside you and she was able to let her moans reverberate across your sensitive pussy.

"oh, fucking hell, 'm gonna cum if you keep eating my pussy like that, baby," sam pulled away from your tongue for a second, and you were able to get a small glimpse of beth eating your pussy and moaned, "oh, you like that, do you?"

in response to sam's question, your pussy clenched and despite her not being able to feel it, she sensed the answer was yes.

"clenching all over my fingers, babygirl? god, you're so desperate to cum, aren't you?" beth asked, resting her head on your thigh as she watched her wet fingers slip in and out of you, "if you're that fucking desperate with just my fingers inside of you, i dread to think how desperate you'll be when i resort to other measures."

"get in fuckin' line, beth," sam groaned, slotting herself back over your face, "i'm still the only one out of the two of us thats made her cum so far."

you knew your orgasm wouldn't be much longer, and so you sped up the movement of your finger inside beth, adding a second and a third in quick motions. your jaw started to ache, and sam's hips started to rock back and forth much faster than they were before; she too, wanted to cum just as much as you did.

you continued to clench around beth's fingers and when she curled them up to your g-spot repeatedly, you were unable to control your body's reflexes. beth smirked and her mouth latched to your clit again, wanting desperately to taste you as you came.

"she's gonna cum, look at her poor little legs thrashing around," sam noted, leaning forward to grip at your thighs so they didn't thrash as much as they originally were. your fingers dug into sam's thigh as harsh as they could to let her know she was correct, but she leaned down so her hand brushed your throat, "you'll wait for me and beth to cum first before you do, do you understand?"

you mewled against sam's pussy and as a response, beth slapped your swollen clit, "do not make me ask again," sam spoke harshly. as a response, you just nodded. "good girl, now get on with it."

your tongue had never moved as fast as it did in that moment, and you curled your fingers inside beth just as she had done inside you, and both of them were left moaning, wriggling messes. it was quite fun to be on this side of the window, but you'd much rather be the one receiving than the one giving. especially when their head was as good as it was.

sam came first, her entire body shaking and her clit twitching as your name left her mouth repeatedly, and beth came not too much longer after, rocking back on your fingers and leaving you desperate for a release. your pussy ached, and your throat was dry, and now, you really were embarrassed about how desperate you were.

"p-please. c-can i cum now?"

sam moved so she was facing you, and she admired your face that was glistening with her wetness, while beth's lips dragged soft kisses across your pubic bone.

"i dunno," sam answered, turning to look at beth, "what do you think?"

beth's fingers curled inside of you once more and your body rippled at the sensation, "i think she's been good enough, if a little greedy."

and that was all the answer you needed. sam's mouth found one of your nipples and her hand focused on the other, while beth's focus was solely on your pussy. she loved watching it clench and drip as she fingered it and licked it. your legs began to tremble uncontrollably, and nobody was going to stop the earthquake of an orgasm that shattered through your body.

you moaned louder than you expected at the stimulation you were getting from all over, and your body couldn't hold back the aftershocks that rippled through it. the loud, wet noises of beth slurping up all your wetness left your mind reeling, and it was even worse when she began to exchange the liquid between the three of you, as if she was a mother bird feeding her children.

"jesus, you taste so fucking sweet," sam noted, wiping the trail of spit that fell from your lip and sucking it into her own mouth, "i could taste you every single day."

"join the club," beth replied, admiring her work of your limp body. she stuck a finger in your mouth and let you suck off the remaining juices to keep you occupied while she spoke to sam, "you or me first?"

"oh well, i think it's only fair y/n shows you how incredible her tongue really is," sam's cocky smirk came back, "unless you'd rather let me have a second ride."

beth rolled her eyes and you couldn't help but flicker your gaze between the two of them. "i don't mind going second, means shes going to be uncontrollable," she looked down at you and stroked your face with the hand that was just in your mouth, and a damp trail of her spit covered finger was left across your cheek, "colour, darling?"

"i'm. uh, green. i think."

"you think?" sam asked, genuinely a bit concerned. "if you want to stop, darling all you have to do is say."

"n-no, i don't, not yet," your hand found hers in a sweet gesture, "i'm just getting a little tired, but im green."

sam placed a kiss to your hand and beth stroked your cheek, "you know we'll take excellent care of you, don't you, princess?"

you nodded in response, and sam released your hand so she could walk to her overnight bag, fumbling for whatever it was she was looking for. while she did that, beth caught you in a steamy make out and was able to shift you around, so she was now laying back on the pillows and you were hovering over her, your ass already perked up and waiting eagerly for sam's return.

you were so eager to finally taste beth that you didn't even hear the shuffling of sam's feet on the floor. you didn't notice her presence behind you until you felt the cold sensation of lube trickling down your thighs.

your fingers massaged the skin around beth's pussy and you turned round to face sam, standing behind you adorning your favourite strap of hers. it made you feel all warm and mushy inside knowing that her and beth brought your favourite toys with them so they could watch you crumble.

"why've you turned round, darling?" sam asked, her hand working up and down the shaft of the penis harnessed around her waist, "shouldn't you be making beth cum?"

you mewled at the mixture of the sight before you and the words leaving her lips, and then you felt beth's hand on your chin, yanking you back around to face her. "don't focus on sam, y/n. focus on me. understand?"

her voice was stern, but she had a soft look in her eyes.

"yes, beth, i understand."

she kissed you softly and then her hands juxtaposed her actions when she forced your head down to her crotch. as soon as your tongue came into contact with beth's clit, her head landed on the headboard and her eyes rolled back into her head, she was already sensitive and the sight of you about to be fucked by one of her friends was already sending her into overdrive.

as you got into a slow, soft rhythm, sam slid herself inside you and the stretch made you cry. sam's hips forced closer and closer to your bum until the strap was all the way inside of your pussy and it left you reeling.

you waved your hand across your back and sam grabbed ahold of your fingers, looping them together with hers. "everything okay?"

"mhm," you nodded, lifting your head up from beth's crotch, "jus' need you to stay there for a minute."

beth smirked up at sam, "bless her, she's really not been fucked in a long time, has she?"

"clearly not," sam pulled out and repeated the action, her hips drawing closer and closer to your skin, "do all the other girls not fuck you as good as us, baby? hm?"

"n-no," you choked out, "you two are the b-best."

your mind reeled as you slipped your tongue between beth's folds, and you soon realised that you would end up doing anything they wanted you to in that moment, and you knew they knew that too.

your body reacted quicker than you did as sam's hips began to thrust in an even rhythm, allowing you to adjust and wriggle accordingly. beth's moans were like sweet music to your ears as you continued to eat her out. her sweaty body was shaking with adrenaline, and the need to cum by your mouth, and you wished you could stay in the moment forever.

"less admiring, more eating," beth stated, punctuating herself with a slap to your cheek that was light enough to not hurt but daring enough to leave you reeling, "or else we'll tie you up in the corner and watch us do it to each other while you sit there crying."

"she'd probably fucking enjoy that," sam muttered, every word formed with a thrust, "but then again i couldn't stand to listen to her incessant whining."

"your choice, sweetheart."

your body was reeling now, and you knew it wouldn't be long before your third orgasm of the night washed over you, but you wanted to put all of your remaining effort into beth. you struggled to find a rhythm that your exhausted tongue could keep up with, and then beth started to grind her hips and it felt much easier for you to keep up with getting her to cum.

"starting to wear out, darling?" beth asked, a question that wasn't patronizing on paper, but in execution.

"mhm," you mumbled as you continued your plight, "but i wanna k-keep going."

"christ, you're like a bitch in heat," sam said, her own hips struggling to find rhythm at the nearing of her release, "can't seem to throw in the towel, can you baby?"

you shook your head and the feeling of your tongue sliding along beth's pussy made her jolt, and you completed the action until her mouth went slack. her hands grabbed bunches of your hair and held you in place as her second orgasm washed through her, your name tumbling out of her mouth like a mantra.

"sam... i... i don't know how much longer i can hold it," you croaked once beth had released your head. "p-please."

you reached around and grabbed sam's hand, and she held it at your lower back as she regained a newfound force to fuck you with, shoving you forward until your face landed in the space of duvet between where beth's legs were previously placed.

you didn't even realise beth had moved away from her spot in front of you until you felt her fingers circling your clit. your mind went numb in that moment as you struggled to find the words to announce that you were cumming, instead just a slur of screams and swears all rolled into one.

beth's hand came into contact with the skin of your cheeks and you hummed as you came to, "still feeling up for one more round?" she asked, "it'll be over so quickly, darling. you'll barely even feel it."

"o-okay," you nodded, and leaned in for a kiss which beth obliged, "but only if i get to sit between sam's legs so i can rest."

your eyes fell on sam as she slipped her legs out of the strap harness, and she'd never looked at you with so much care in her eyes before. "of course you can," she kissed your head, "our sleepy little girl."

your pussy was aching so much by this point, but you absolutely loved the way beth fucked you, and you weren't letting the evening end without feeling her for at least a few minutes. sam got comfy, her legs spreading out wide that her ankles hung over the edges of the bed, leaving you plenty of room to get comfy between them.

your head fell to the crook of her neck and she hooked her arms underneath yours so she was able to play with your nipples, and coax along your orgasm by flicking your clit if it was needed.

you watched beth with hooded eyes as she put on her strap harness, adorning your favourite strap of hers much like sam had done, and if you weren't so exhausted it would've amused you that they probably planned this prior to today's game.

it worked in beth's favour that you were clinging onto the edge of consciousness. she knew she'd end up getting waterworks and this was her favourite part of having sex with you - you didn't give up until you had nothing left to give.

"remember, darling, if you want to stop at anytime, all -"

"- i have to do is say red, i know," you nodded, your hair tickling sam's chin as beth lined up in front of you, "i remember."

"of course you do," she smirked, and punctuated her next sentence by gently easing her dick inside of you, "our clever little girl."

you gasped at the feeling of another dick sliding easily inside of you. this one was slightly curved, meaning it hit your g-spot almost instantly when beth hit the right angle.

sam’s hands wandered around your sweaty body, her damp finger pads drawing soft, gentle circles over your nipples that made them feel as if they were on fire.

beth knew she didn’t have time to waste, and so she flung one of your legs over her shoulder, and it earned her a rather excitable moan from you. the angle felt much better now, and her dick hit your g-spot with such ease that it left you feeling dizzy.

“f-fuck, beth, c-can you feel it?”

“i can feel it all, princess,” she oozed confidence and it sent a swarm of butterflies into your lower stomach, “i love it when your body’s got a mind of it’s own, can’t you feel yourself dripping down your legs?”

you shook your head at her question, and while one of sam’s hands stayed firmly planted on your nipple, one travelled down south to your clit, which throbbed as she touched it.

“y/n,” sam’s breath was hot on your neck as her lips travelled across the red skin, “you’re so fucking wet it’s unbelievable.”

“i-i can’t feel it,” your eyebrows furrowed, “w-why can’t i feel it?”

“because you’re being fucked so good, babe,” beth changed her angle again, this time bringing herself lower so she was closer to your face, and the hit of the g-spot felt exceptionally good now, and she smirked when you moaned again, “see?”

sam rolled her eyes but you chose to ignore their playful banter and focus on your imminent orgasm. beth’s thrusts were strong, and you watched as her dick slipped in and out of your pussy, each time trickles of wetness fell onto the duvet and made the bed wetter and wetter.

“do you trust me?” she asked.

“always,” you replied, “i’ll always trust you. both of you.”

“good, cause once i do this we all know what’s going to happen, and it’s going to be messy.”

beth hooked your other leg over her shoulder, and you screamed out at the pleasure coursing through your body. her dick was relentlessly hitting your g-spot with every thrust, and your body began to thrash at the sheer pleasure it was feeling.

sam tried her best to hold you down while flicking your clit, her lips nibbling your ear as she watched with eager eyes and anticipation.

“b-beth…. ‘m gonna…. can’t hold it any longer.”

within seconds of the broken sentence leaving your lips, your body went limp. you’d well and truly lost control of your clenching muscles and couldn’t stop the release from happening even if you wanted to.

the bedsheets underneath you grew in wetness, and felt as if they’d been soaked in a bathtub. sam’s fingers continued to toy with your clit as your muscles continued to contract and release bodily fluids all over the three of you, particularly yours and sam’s legs and beth’s face, but none of you minded.

you managed to conjure up enough strength in your weak arms to push sam’s hand away from your pussy when you’d eventually stopped cumming, and beth slid off the strap and came to your aid almost immediately after that.

the two of them shifted you so you were sat in the middle of them, your dead weight, exhausted body split between the two of them. sam wiped the dampness from your cheek while beth kissed your temple, both of them consistently praising how well you did, how proud they were.

“you did such a good job tonight, babe,” sam noted, shifting her weight slightly so she could reach across to the table at the side of the bed and grab your bottle of water, “what do you need now? here, drink.”

sam held the bottle to your lips and you glugged the liquid eagerly, and as the water brought you back to a sense of life, you felt embarrassed about your appearance.

“i, uh, i’d quite like a bath.”

“we can run you a bath,” beth kissed your temple again, and soon her fingers entwined with yours, “want us to stay? or go?”

“i want you to stay,” you mumbled, your mouth working faster than your brain, “both of you, just for a bit.”

sam rolled off the bed and scooped you up between her arms, carrying you slowly towards the bathroom as beth darted in to run your bath.

“okay,” sam looked down at your exhausted figure, “we’ll stay. for a while.”

#sam kerr #beth england #woso #woso smut #woso community #woso imagine #woso couples #woso blurbs #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso soccer #woso one shot #women’s football

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satoruhour · 1 year ago

Note

Helllooo!!!! I hope you're doing well<33 I'm not sure if you're taking requests so this can be taken as a random rant as well. (I'm in my exam week-depressed-stressed era lol) but is it just me Or the animated version of choso and the mans voice actor just doubled his hotness!?? Hence why me is here to ask if you could do a choso street racer au, could be anything from him meeting at a race or him taking them drifting? Idk but I just need more racer choso au's😭😭😭

LUCKY DIME

a/n: oh no my love i hope your exams went well and that you’re resting comfortably now ❤️ OFCCCC i planned to write a racer!choso for so long i just didnt have any motivation / tagging @screampied

wc: 3k

warnings: racer!choso, reader is ‘dating’ a weirdo, fem!reader, threat of sexual assault (from weirdo guy), threatening harm, flashback, unsafe driving tendencies (dont follow them in this fic lol pls drive safely), semi-public sex (parking lot), car sex, slight nipple play, oral (f! receiving) / cunnilingus, fingering, finger sucking, implied multiple rounds and p -> v sex later on, n*sfw under the cut

choso hasn’t always been open about his origins — moving from the shimotsuma district to shibuya just two years ago in need of quick cash to send back to his struggling mother. it was a hard decision on both ends, with his mother advocating more for him to leave for a better life than the one she could offer. he acquiesced with a promise to earn enough to send back to her every month in return for the secret stash she provided for him and that promise meant everything. he was going to get money no matter what.

even if it meant meddling with the local yakuza, doing petty little tasks of collecting money, escorting the people important to the oyabun to their meeting places, being on lookouts while gambling and prostitution happens indoors. choso would never write back to his mother on what he’s been doing to get so much money, but if he’s able to send a hefty amount back to her on every 29th, he’s satisfied.

that is until he’s met with a couple arguing as they walk along the alleyway, creating such a ruckus that choso’s sure they could power the whole of shibuya — well, more of the man, anyways, saying something about racing and cars that he’s not even sure he catches on.

“well, if you just listened to her and opted for a flat-plane rather than use a cross-plane, maybe you wouldn’t have lost the race!” you’re throwing your hands up, struggling to walk behind in these new heels you bought while you navigate the dark alleyway. for a boy who’s expressed interest in you, he wasn’t doing well in trying to keep you one bit. you’d say he’s rather annoyed that you know so much about cars, trying to genuinely help him while he just sees it as attacks.

“yeah, well, if you kept your mouth shut, you wouldn’t have embarrassed me about losing to noritoshi.” you roll your eyes, unaware you’re passing a dangerous area with dangerous activities behind the door choso was guarding, nor do you notice the way the bodyguard perks up at the name of noritoshi, who sounds awfully familiar.

you scoff, “trust me, you embarrassed yourself the moment you tried to challenge the dude,” it was meant to be a harmless comment; noritoshi could never measure up to the famous four, but he practised his drifting hard enough and put in the hard work, stayed humble. he was everything that your “man” wasn’t, and it was only deserved that he didn’t win. ultimately, you didn’t expect much from a man in the illegal racing scene who only cared about who had the nicest engines and paint finishes.

“what’d you say?”

choso keeps a close eye on the both of you.

“it was nothing—” you sigh, reaching out to grab at his arm to get him to stop shouting so loud when you notice the person standing in front of a shady door — twin pigtails hairstyle with a dead look in his eyes and a tattoo across his nose, dressed up in a suit. it was scary enough walking through a dimly-lit alleyway, but your fear heightens when your eyes fall upon the surroundings of ashes of late night campfires, dried blood along the walls, and used condoms on the floor.

“no, no, tell me what you said, just so i know that i heard you right,” your “man” insisted, stepping up so close to you that your nerves were on high alert from the proximity and the possibility of that someone just a few feet away inflicting harm on the both of you.

“it was nothing! i just meant that you didn’t have a chance against noritoshi from the st—” it’s like you hit a sensitive nerve, because the next thing he’s doing is grabbing your wrist and dragging you along, not aware of how choso perks up even more, ready to leave his post. it borderline hurts with the way he grasps at your skin, paired with the discomfort of your heels and outfit, you can’t just wait to get home and rest up.

“ohh, so that’s what you said!” the man continues to tug you, not heeding your pleas for him to stop, “might as well just leave you here with the yakuza to see whether you stand a chance.”

that’s what the man was guarding . . wait.

a shout wretches out of you when you notice there’s no shadows at the door that’s lit simply with fluorescence at the same time the mysterious man has one hand each on your arms.

“who are you—” your “man” has the gall to speak first, shocked at the stronger grip of the other when he tears the fingers away from your wrist before stumbling back. the mysterious guy simply tugs you into his hold, levelling the other with just a stare from his eyes that’s got him babbling and stuttering in fear. you hate to admit that once the man beside you speaks, your body curls into his side — it’s like a smooth cup of coffee that you gravitate towards.

“do you want to repeat what you just said?” choso puts you behind him as he approaches the other, one step taken while the cowering one takes one step back. “because i can always open the door i’m guarding and let them take care of you, instead.”

“t-that wouldn’t be necessary—” he’s adamant on his threatening, taking out a flip phone and dialling numbers one by one, no doubt the number of his boss. he doesn’t even look at you, eyes trained on the pigtailed man as he continues to dial the number and pressing call. if choso’s being honest, he’s about to shit himself just as much, never having called his saiko-komon personally before so he only fakes the number, thanking the heavens that someone somewhere decided to call his boss’ phone just at the same time.

they all hear it, the familiar nokia ringtone from behind the door, but in choso’s ear, all it says is that it’s an invalid number that garners no answer. he talks over the operator’s voice anyway.

“yeah, i need you to take care of this guy. just outside here—” that’s enough for him to go running away, puddles splashing and his voice crying out for civilisation, although you’re not too happy yourself, afraid for your own fate. kept like a pet for the yakuza? made to work for them to pay off this small helping hand? commit—

you sit up from the hood, “you called a fake number?!” it’s hard to say when that fateful meeting turned into this over the past few months, asking choso to recount the night the two of you met out of curiosity when you realise that your yakuza-accountant boyfriend had dialled a fake number the whole time.

“i had just joined! i wasn’t going to phone my boss . .” he sheepishly says with head turned to you, and while you’re giving him brutal smacks on the shoulder (“what! if! he! hadn’t! run! away! were you going to let a phone operator beat him up?”), you’re still thankful he decided to step in at the right time even if his heroic act had been brought down a notch by this revelation.

it’s then that he asks about the whole racing thing you were involved in but you’re taken aback by the fact that he wasn’t going to make you do anything in return. even if the alley had boasted its dubiousness, you realise than the man standing in front of you was not much older than you, a childish sparkle in his eyes when you entertained the question. with a random number in your phone, it was up to you if you wanted to text him, but after a few races, you think that he was just too handsome to pass up.

choso picked up racing and drifting fast, joining your small group of friends of yuji, megumi and nobara who were all rising up the ranks. it was difficult, knowing the famous four, but it didn’t hurt trying to build a reputation in the underground scene. he practised around the docks, crashing into crates, sending the seagulls flying, and almost sending your scrap car over the edge.

“tokyo is pretty at this time of night,” choso mumbles as he sits up, too, liking the way you scooch closer to him on the hood of his 1967 Ford Mustang.

“tokyo is cold, i’m lucky i’m not freezing to death.” you tease him even when you’re wearing his warm jacket, squealing when his cold hands make it under the jacket and your shirt.

“how are you cold, that jacket’s wool!” he nestles his face into your neck, freezing nose touching the skin there and you giggle, trying your best to push him away. choso says that, but he’s happy to see you in his jacket while his arms tingle with both frost and lovesickness. “you’re just extra sensitive to the cold.”

before you can retaliate, though, he’s pulling away from your body heat to look you in the eye; it was a wonder he even got you, a girl who’s just so passionate about cars and who taught him everything he needed to know about it. six months down the road, he’s writing about something other than living paycheck to paycheck again, getting in some extra money from racing as well.

“wanna drive?”

you grin, hopping off his hood before jumping into the car beside him and he only laughs at your enthusiasm, hopping in after you and starting the ignition. you wish it was like this before every race: you beside him in the passenger seat as he gets ready to race against his opponent. the rev of the engine always excites you, knowing you contributed to the many modifications of his Mustang. but choso always says it’s dangerous for you — so you’re left to watch from the sidelines.

but now, as choso drifts down the mountain, you can’t help but stare at him as he changes gears every few seconds, hair blowing everywhere from the wind outside before he reaches the base and races off into the main road. you’re shouting in excitement, music blasting loudly from the cassette player while you dominate the streets at night.

“d’you think i can break 190, sweetheart?”

your jaw drops, “while drifting?” he nods, “you’re insane . . yeah, do it.”

choso’s laughter feels infinitely heavenly, stepping on the accelerator on a fairly empty road. he’s familiar with the traffic of the roads too, so at 4am, it’s basically deserted when he speeds down the gravel while he tries to break the speed limit. you feel on top of the world, a pretty road full of green lights on every turn; there’s a couple of sharp screeches from his tires as he navigates shibuya.

“hear that increased throttle response . .” you whistle when he presses his foot into the accelerator again, Mustang speeding off into the streets while you look over to him: hand holding the stick shift and one hand on the wheel. he’s as pretty as you remember him six months ago and his beauty truly hits you in the moment that you unconsciously rub your thighs together.

“all thanks to you, baby,” feels like the final blow, not knowing the effect he has on you until you’re waiting until he slows down to place your hand atop his on the steering wheel. there he lets you steer where you want to go, face melting into recognition at the place you’re taking him to.

“you’re nasty.” in the abandoned car park, he giggles when you’re shushing him as you make your way to the backseats, levelling him with a stare that begged him to hurry.

“yeah . . whatever, you like it.”

choso grins, switching off the ignition and climbing in after you, making you forget all about the cold season of japan in mere minutes. his lips collide with yours and his body naturally pushes yours to the leather seats, driving you crazy just with his mouth. his hands make quick work of your skimpy outfit, inching past your tight halter top and to your tits. you gasp softly into the kiss.

“may i?” even after all this time, choso still asks for permission, pulling down your top and bra when you nod.

his mouth is both warm and gentle when it meets with your nipple, tongue swirling around the bud and eyes looking up at you just to relish in the hooded lids and soft moans you give him. his free hand fondles your other, squeezing and playing, rolling the bud between his thumb and forefinger.

“just s’soft . . always,” he hums into your chest, kissing you down bit by bit and making you wait for it with each teasing journey he makes. there, he manoeuvres himself onto the floor, kneeling on the carpeted finishing as your knees hook onto each shoulder. the car is filled with your laboured breathing, watching him slowly undo the straps to your uncomfortable heels. it’s excruciatingly slow, pulling at the strings and removing each shoe before his lips leave fire along your shin, up to your thighs and to your pulsing core.

“choso . .” you whine, hips bucking off the leather.

all he does is laugh, hands spreading your legs before he’s licking his lips at the mess you made in your skirt, panties and back of the fabric soaked right through. your boyfriend pulls you forward with a certain fervour that makes you yelp and you match him with a nervous grin as he tugs away the underwear and marvels at the arousal that just sticks to your pussy, pretty and dripping right in front of him.

you have no warning before choso indulges himself in your cunt and you cry out in surprise, hand tangled up in the mess of his hair that falls from his pigtails. his warm tongue laps at your clit like a man starved, slurping up all of your arousal into his tongue. the cold weather is just the cherry on top, cold wind wafting through the walls and the windows, making you extra sensitive.

“c-cho—” you hum, one hand lost in his black locks while the other clutches tightly onto the seats for any sort of anchor while choso only pushes his face further in between your legs. he can feel your pussy clench around nothing, switching between sucking and flicking his tongue with a relentless pace that threatens your sanity. “t-too much . .”

all he does is laugh into your centre, eyes flitting to meet yours while he continues his ministrations, arms wrapping around your thighs. choso moans at how good and sweet you taste, a curious hand moving from your legs right to your hole where he plays with your folds. gently, he pushes past your walls and you whimper from the intrusion, clamping down around his finger.

“relax, darling, i got you,” he softly says, relaxing his pace just a bit as he starts to thrust his finger. while slow, his tongue doesn’t stop, however, still continuing to make the lewdest noises.

“pussy so damn sweet,” he groans, nuzzling his face right into your sloppy core before teasing a second finger; it’s easy to slip in but he still warns you wordlessly, inching them right in until they reach the knuckles, “and so tight, too—”

the car is filled with the smell of sex, the sounds of your pussy and your endless moans as choso starts to pump his fingers in and out, reaching so much deeper than any of your toys can and stretching you out just right. your hips buck uncontrollably as you feel that coil in your stomach, knowing that you were only going to get even more of this before choso properly fucks you — but it’s all he promises, that to make sure you’d cum on his fingers and tongue thrice before he even thinks of railing you like you deserve.

“c-choso, your fingers—!”

“yeah?” it’s breathless, bottom half of his face all soaked and wet, but he goes right back in.

“mmfuck— cho, cho, p-please . .” your words are jumbled up, babbling through your teeth while his fingers gathers all of your juices, “i’m g’nna—”

choso thinks you’re just perfect like this, moaning as much as you want in his Mustang and spread out just for him to eat. he cannot keep his eyes off you, curling his fingers just a bit to find your sweet spot as he flicks your bundle of nerves as his eyes stay on the way your lips part for little pants to escape. your eyes have fluttered close by now but he doesn’t mind as you continue to push his head towards your cunt.

“cum on my fingers, my love,” the other groans, words muffled a little, “cum on my tongue like a good girl.”

“cho— f-fuuck . .” you writhe around on the leather seats as you reach your peak, voice descending into a silent scream while your jaw hangs open. at his peripheral he can see and feel your thighs tremble while you chant his name like a prayer, over and over until you think your voice is hoarse. his seats are wet, no doubt, and you wince seeing your cum decorate the leather, but choso quietens your worries as he leans up to give you a kiss. you can taste yourself.

“taste good?” you’re ruined despite it being your first orgasm, answering half-heartedly before slumping, a soft moan leaving you when he removes his fingers and strings of your arousal stick to each digit. his hand naturally gravitates towards your mouth, fumbling with your lips before he pushes in — distracted, he takes the opportunity to latch his mouth onto your cunt again and you mewl loudly.

“that’s just the start,” choso grins, laying a long stripe up your pussy and groaning softly at the way your tongue swirls over his fingers, “i’m sorry in advance . . hope you’re able to get out of bed tomorrow, baby.”

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mashup-writing · 6 months ago

Text

A Borrowed Coat & A Security Marker; Donna Beneviento (Resident Lover)

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Requested? ❌

"This scene feels like what I once saw on a screen."

Summary: Donna lends you her coat as a makeshift blanket for whenever you fall asleep. You've joked about making a trade-off somehow and she's always brushed you off with a small smile. Today's a particularly unlucky day for your Toxicology and Botany Professor, it just might be the day in which she finally agrees to a trade-off with you.

Warnings: None

Genre: Fluff

Resident Lover Masterlist

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"It should be criminal to have classes this early." You think to yourself while your whole body on autopilot sleepily shuffles through the empty hallways of your campus on the way to your first class of the week.

The only saving grace in this is that the classroom is usually just the right temperature to lull you back to sleep, and your classmates always make sure to wake you before Professor Beneviento starts her lectures.

You push the door open and make your way over to your seat before placing your things down and immediately laying your head on the table with your arms as a pillow. Sparing a quick glace through the windows, you see that the sun isn't even close to rising yet.

"Time to grab some shuteye."

A thump followed by a whispered curse wakes you from your slumber. The first thing that registers in your mind is that you're warm and that there's a comfortable weight on your shoulders. Taking a moment to get your bearings in order, you lift your head and stretch your arms before opening your eyes.

"Buongiorno, tesoro mia."

A smile lifts your lips before you could even manage to blink the sleep out of your eyes. You offer your Professor a small wave before setting your chin down on your palm, using your other hand to pull her coat tighter around your shoulders.

"Good morning." You greet in return. You squint your eyes a moment after, she's back to flitting around the table. You decide to get up and walk closer to her in an attempt to better gauge the situation. "What's got you all worked up?" Donna stops for a second, turning to you with a hand on her nape.

"I can't find my marker."

You raise an eyebrow at her, walking back to your bag and rummaging through it before pulling out a new marker- Teasingly brandishing it at Donna like it was a shiny little trinket in your hands. You walk back over to her, hand held out to give her the extra marker when you suddenly pull back.

You take a good look around the room, ensuring that no one's around before you continue with your early morning antics. "I'm sorry, Dr. Beneviento but the borrowing tax fee for this market is a good morning kiss!"

The Italian woman chuckles, a fond sigh escaping her lips before she steps forward to close the gap between your bodies. She wastes no time in kissing you. It's not chaste, as no kisses with Donna ever is, unfortunately it's over just before you start to lose your breath.

You didn't even notice that the marker has already left your hand, only realising it after you shake off the daze and hear the soft click of Donna uncapping the said marker before she starts on writing the lesson on the board.

She's humming to herself, you take a moment to appreciate her form before turning around to go back to your seat.

The door opens, drawing your attention to it. Cold, blue eyes meet yours from across the room and they flick between the Professor and you for a second before the owner walks to her seat.

The tall woman passes by you without ever sparing you a second glance. You could honestly care less, no one's in the mood for small talk when the barest sunrays are just starting to peek through the horizon.

You sit down, pull out your laptop and get to work on reviewing. It's Donna's style to hand out surprise quizzes and randomly call a student to recite after all, every meeting with her in a class is a game of Russian Roulette.

You can feel cold, calculating eyes glancing over at your direction every now and then- But you pay it no mind.

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

Donna looks to her watch before ending the class with reminders. Everyone gets up hurriedly, in a rush to get back to their beds or to work on projects that are too close to the due date for comfort.

You take your time with packing your things up, and when the last classmate leaves the room you turn to walk over to Donna's desk- You're about to shrug off her coat and she immediately raises a hand, softly shaking her head before placing the borrowed marker in her pocket.

She walks over to you, placing a kiss to the top of your head before readjusting her coat to sit better on your shoulders. Donna pulls back afterwards, eyes squinted and trained on the floor as if she was thinking of something. It takes a moment, but when she looks up to meet your gaze- There's a humorous glint in hers.

"... Security deposit..."

You tilt your head in confusion, and smile when she pulls the marker out of her pocket. She brandishes it at you in light mockery of how you did earlier.

"I'm keeping this until the semester ends."

Shock renders you motionless until Donna starts walking back to her desk, you stand with your mouth opening and closing until she pulls her bag off the desk.

"I can't keep your coat!"

She smiles, unbothered at all by the words you've just forced out.

"It's bad business to lend assets without holding onto a security deposit in return."

You narrow your eyes at her, crossing your arms before huffing and pouting in indignation. "You're a botanist, the hell do you know about running a business!"

Donna only laughs at the accusation, she slowly uncrosses your arms before leaning down to place a kiss on the back of one. Her eyes never leaving yours even if her lips linger on your skin for a moment.

"Elena's sister might be manning the counter, but make no mistake cara mia- It is me who owns the flower shop in town."

Your jaw drops even lower than the last time, and this makes the Professor laugh as she takes it as her cue to walk away from you.

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A/N: Professor!Donna has been stuck in my mind for so long now, I might actually start foaming at the mouth.

#resident lover #reader!insert #resident lover mc #resident evil #resident evil 8 #re8 #donna beneviento x reader #donna beneviento #resident lover donna #Professor!Donna

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beautifulhigh · 1 year ago

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It just occurred to me that the polo scene doesn't get much love as it should. I know it's very short but just the thirst in Alex’s eyes, the way you can see his mouth dry while watching Henry ride that horse and his oh so sexy smile. I feel like that scene required a major dissection, and no one does it better so I came calling.

You know what? I'm doing this one now. I know I said I would do a meta on Henry Fox and I would do a meta on the New Year's Eve party but this is in my inbox now and yeah, let's talk about the polo scene.

(I'm also doing this now so I don't have another thing on my To Do pile, and your kind words made my shitty day a little better so thank you.)

Short scene, not a short meta.

In the book when he and Henry are in his bedroom, Alex has this little moment of clouds parting, sun beaming, angels chorus revelation:

In an instant of sudden, vivid clarity, he can’t believe he ever thought he was straight.

And while movie!Alex doesn't have the same bi awakening that book!Alex does. this is very much his moment of "oh I am very not straight at all" and that is valid of him.

(As this is a Jen meta, we shall also be talking about everything else because you do not analyse a text in isolation.)

This interview talks about the editing of the polo match:

Nick [Moore], my new editor coming in, took a look and he says, “I wanna try something with that polo match.” He spent a weekend of his own time doing something, and then he was ready to show me. He sat me down and said, “I’ve done something crazy.”

And we went from filmed scripted scenes and a lead in, to "bagpipes intensify" and it works SO well for where these boys are in this new stage of their relationship.

Our establishing shots are of the teams, the horses, the uniforms. This is Henry's world and Alex is about to step into it (which is a reversal of Henry at the NYE party - I swear I will write that meta once I have all the gif posts I want to link to) and it's all quick cuts and sharp transitions and moving shots. The pace has been set for Alex to enter.

We pick him out in the crowd but he's lost as quickly as we spot him. He's one of many here and it's all too quick to stay with him.

Firstly, you will never convince me that he didn't pick the tightest trousers he could find. Henry's comment about him being a mouthful is foreshadowed, right there.

ANYWAY

He walks in, he's looking around, he's doing up his jacket as a form of protection. Alex is the proverbial fish out of the proverbial water (and I have a meta about water if you're interested) and we're straight back in with the quick edits. Horses, polo sticks, this is not a game most people know how to play. Alex certainly doesn't. He's doing up his jacket and he is uncomfortable.

He is not a stranger to a suit, and that is certainly not something that is ill fitting. It is circumstance, not clothing.

And then we get our first clear shot of Henry. Only it's not clear, not at first. He literally comes into focus.

Stick aloft, mouth open, like he's a walking riding metaphor.

And Alex's face changes.

Yeah. He is definitely not straight.

From then on we stay with Henry. We, in Alex's viewpoint, have found him. And so we track Henry through the game and it's just generic horse legs if we're looking at anything else. The only player we/Alex see is Henry.

Here, Henry is leading. Going in first, checking it's clear, knowing Alex will follow him. Henry leads, Alex follows. Into the garden, into the bed, into the sexual component of their relationship. Alex admits to Henry right from the start that this is new to him:

“I’ve, uh,” Alex begins. “I’ve never actually done this before.” “Alex,” Henry says, reaching down to stroke at Alex’s hair, “you don’t have to, I’m—” “No, I want to,” Alex says, tugging at Henry’s waistband. “I just need you to tell me if it’s awful.” Henry is speechless again, looking as if he can’t believe his fucking luck. “Okay. Of course.”

When it comes to being with a man? Henry leads, Alex follows.

And then the pacing and editing kicks off. We intercut to the tempo of the bagpipes between the match and the hook up and Henry is leading the charge on both.

He's in charge and Alex is LOVING it:

Turns out being on the receiving end of Henry’s royal authority is an extreme fucking turn-on.

This is risky and the most dangerous thing they have done so far. Amy walking in on them in the Red Room is one thing - book!Alex is VERY thankful for the staff NDAs when it comes to what they know about him and Henry - but neither of them care here. And Alex is very much letting Henry take the lead and set the pace.

Which, given how long Henry has wanted Alex, wanted this, and how he's not able to live and love (at this point) as openly as Alex is, giving Henry this control means that not only can Alex continue his education in this mlm era of his life, but he's giving Henry all of the freedom he can. God Bless America or something.

We intercut the make out scene with shots of things being hit, the hard slamming of one thing against another, of riders in saddles. The hands may be a metaphor for sex in the Paris scene but we have it here as well.

Alex is fully on board by this point and he's not letting Henry set the full agenda. In his White House bedroom we got the scene of Henry going down on Alex (and there is no way that it was a one-way exchange given how long they were there) so now? It's his turn.

My favourite editing choice?

We then cut to Henry's arse bouncing in that saddle. If the Paris scene is making love? This is them fucking. Henry is bouncing away, riding for all he's worth, chasing down his singular aim with precision and determination.

It's innuendo at its finest.

I love this shot. We're looking up at them - we're just like Alex who is now looking up at Henry due to his new vantage point (#NoLongerTaller) - and we see Alex is fully crowding up into Henry's space. And they are right by the door. There is no cover, no escape. Anyone coming in has fully caught them. Please let there be a PPO or a Secret Service be just outside. Please. For their sanity if not mine.

But even if there isn't for some insane reason, they don't care. They are so lost in each other, so caught up in this moment, that they aren't FSOTUS and the Prince Of Wales. They aren't boys with status and expectations. They're just two consenting adults who are testing the boundaries of what public indecency actually means.

They are really going for it now. Henry's arm is tensed with the effort of keeping Alex close, his hand is splayed on Henry's back to give him contact with more of him. They are not letting go. Diving all in like it's a nod to the Olympic event where they met in the book.

And when they come up for air it's because Alex is... well... about to go diving.

Those fingers make VERY quick work of the belt and what he is doing with his hands and those fingers is further evidence in the "this is them fucking" category.

And then the frame which I'm guessing inspired Cordelia's ask to me:

LOOK AT THAT FACE. Look at those fucking eyelashes. But Alex is wanting and he is wanting hard for Henry. Pun intended. He's got a plan for this, he's got a To Do list for those Very Bad Things he promised/threatened Henry with all those weeks ago.

And it will have been weeks. The State Dinner was around February time based on the texts (end of January at the latest) and then Henry says the polo match is "next month" (which would put it end of February, early March because we would not say 'next month' if it were next week, regardless of when the month starts) and so it's been weeks since they hooked up in Alex's room. Weeks of having to just text and email and maybe venture into video calls.

None of that would compare to being together.

This is the first time that Alex has gotten his hands on Henry since his bedroom and he's desperate to get more than his hands on him.

And this shot as Alex pulls Henry's trousers down is fucking pornographic. Matthew López, did you direct Nick to act like this or was it his choice? Go watch his expression as Alex is pulling the offending clothing out of the way and tell me that this isn't pornographic.

And then we cut to the not-at-all subtle shot of Henry well, making the shot. With ease and power and the ball shooting out of frame. Something something orgasm metaphor something release.

There's even a little wisp as he makes the shot. If this post isn't flagged for mature content I'll be surprised.

Next shot?

Congrats on not getting caught, on the sex, on the most smut-filled-while-almost-fully-clothed-sex scene I've ever had the joy of frame-by-framing through.

Alex is doing up his tie again but he's not uncomfortable. And Henry is so fucking happy I could cry. Because he just hooked up with this guy, in semi-public, and got away with it. They are firmly in Henry's world here, a world where he can't be out and proud, and he got to have something he wanted. And, maybe crucially, no one knows about it. His privacy is intact.

But more importantly, this thing he's got with Alex is something. It's not a one night stand. Alex came here specifically for him, because he asked him to. Because Alex wanted to see him, be with him. This wasn't an obligation, this wasn't something set up by anyone for show and to do damage control. This was for them, and them alone.

Look at these smug bastards. Look at them. Gettin' their rocks off and making puns about being hungry and eating like they didn't just devour each other.

BUT

I gotta bring the feels here 'cause it's me.

Henry attended the State dinner because he was expected to, because that was in place before the New Year's kiss. It was an obligation and in both the movie and the book he had been ghosting Alex. And then Alex grabbed him in the Red Room and they hooked up and at the end of that scene Henry nervously asks Alex if he wants to be his guest at the polo event. Alex doesn't actually say yes - he says he doesn't know how to play polo, there's a comment about it being safer if he's on the sidelines - but leaving aside any fear that he would stand Henry up this is the first time they have made plans with the intention of seeing each other, of being together in this way.

This is, for want of a better term, kinda like a date.

Alex turned up, Henry put out, and they're very much committing to seeing where this path will take them. (Forever. It'll take them to forever.)

Alex isn't straight, Henry is very much in love, and they're embracing that giddy phase of a relationship where you just can't keep your hands off each other. And we fade from this to Paris where they're on another kind of date and then there's another kind of sex scene and it's a speedrun of their relationship on screen like they weren't indulging in foreplay with all the text flirting.

Which, by the way, don't think I didn't notice that Henry's jersey number was 4. Four-play indeed.

(Thanks for this, Cordelia, I needed something like this to soothe my brain.)

#jen answers stuff #i-cordelia #firstprince #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #prince henry of wales #red white and royal blue #rwrb movie #firstprince meta #overthinking jen is overthinking #rwrb #otp: history huh #long post

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lynnlovesthestars · 4 months ago

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Could I ask for a Astarion x Durge!Tav

I've done 2 Durge playthoughs and wish , which ever companion you romance has a reaction when Durge rejects to be bhasls chosen and gets killed but brought back to life by withers .

When the party returns to the camp after they discover she was a mastermind in all the trouble .

she doesn't talk to anyone . Especially Astarion ....She has now taken the farthest away bed from the others and waits for everyone to go to sleep and she would get up and leave kethrics netherstone next to Astarion and she would leave to face orin alone .

But by the time they find her they find her after she defeats orin she's Exhausted and bloody they would get there too late as they would enter the temple and get close to her Astarion and the others would hear her go " I reject "and see her get killed by bhaal. His love , his darling was now gone....he cradles her when withers appears to bring her back .

If this is a lot I'm sorry I got carried away . I haven't found anything but one snippet someone made about this scene . And I love you writing and wish to see your take on this .

Sorry im so late, but here i am. Lete but always coming back at a certain point t.t

BG3 x durge HC When you refuse bhaal

The shock of the new discovery downs on the group only when you return to the elfsong tavern. The room is filled with an unusual tension as everyone follows your movements unsure whether they should trust you or avoid you.

You are silent as you gather your belongings to move, your brain swirling with all the new knowledge as it threatens to overwhelm you.

You move to the bed in the very corner, opposite to where everyone rested, to give them space and to give yourself some as well as you had to reweight the path you followed and prepare for your next act.

It is past midnight when everyone is finally asleep and your plan is finally set in motion. You leave Ketheric’s netherstone on Astarion’s nightstand and leave.

Astarion notices accidentally, the clung of the stone on his nightstand somewhat wakes him from his trance, yet only when it was too late, he realizes what’s going on.

The whole group rushes through the city, quick to reach the sewers and delve deeper into the ravines as everyone is panicking. Whatever you were planning, they knew it was going to be disastrous, and they wouldn’t- no, couldn’t allow it. As much as they were shocked, they still cared about you. Yet the moment the doors of the temple of Bhaal flung open, they were late.

“I reject.” You beamed clearly, not an ounce of remorse in your voice before you quickly turn your head towards the commotion at the door, and you couldn’t help but smile as they all stood there, desperate as you breathed your last breath.

Wyll:

“DAMNED YOU, BHAAL” He yelled as he rushed to your side, his hands quickly reaching around your contorted figure, bringing you to his chest. He pressed his ear to your chest, still arched in his arms, trying to find a pulse, life, anything, yet he was met with silence.

“Shit” He murmurs as he curls on the floor, his arms bound to you as if in a curse. He had to do something. He had saved Baldur’s Gate, slayed dragons, minotaurs, and couldn’t save you, his sweet love.

How many people was he bound to lose? Was he ready to give up his dream of a life with you? No, no, no he wasn’t, so he did what his chest told him to do.

It was almost a cry in pain as he sobbed the syllables out loud, knowing she was already listening. She was always there, he knew it.

“Mizora, do what you do best” He spat as the tears still descended down his scarred cheeks.

“Now, now, pet.” She tsked sadness in her voice. “I wouldn’t rush certain decisions” She warned, aware of what was going to happen, yet incapable of telling him it was already going to be okay.

Gale:

He is rushing down to the altar, trying to stop the inevitable as he tries to cast a spell, Tiny Hut, as if it could stop a God’s punishment. He should have known better.

“Why did you do it, you fool” He cried out as he sunk to his knees, hopelessly placing his head on your chest to feel your pulse, as if the broken bones were not enough an indication of how dead you were.

The second he couldn’t feel your heartbeat, and he could physically feel your body from growing cold, he couldn’t hold back the tears anymore, soaking your shirt as he clinged to you as if you were going to disappear at any moment, his sobs echoing in the temple.

“You can’t leave me, you understand?” He sobbed as he fisted your shirt and hopelessly tried to shake you awake.

Astarion

Shit.

He’s running before you can even fall to the ground, oh he wished he had some magic to protect you from the impact with the floor, but he could barely make it in time to see you eyes turn lifeless.

“You can’t do this to me, you idiot, I love you, you understand. I can’t bear to see you like this“ He cries as he hoists you up in his lap, your head lolling on his shoulder.

“I love you” He whispers as his head drops to the side, the tears flooded his eyes as he rocked the two of you back and forth. “Tav, please” He murmured as if just begging would help.

Shadowheart

They say there’s nothing worse for a medic to see their loved ones hurt, their bodies fall to the ground helpless as they can do nothing but stare. They say that you lose all reason, and that’s what she felt like. She felt as she lost everything all over again. She felt just like when she was under Shar’s tyranny all over again.. lost.

Before she could comprehend what she was doing she was on her knees, your head resting on her thighs as she rubbed her hands together and channeled all her magic in the healing spell. Yet it was not enough. She tried and tried as tears stained her cheeks as, one at a time, they joined her in a circle, some trying to reassure Shadowheart and some already feeling defeated.

But she didn't want to lose faith, she couldn't. She couldn't just abandon her lover when your love had just had the chance to blossom anew. She couldn't give up.

“Where is that sack of bones?” She wailed as she picked up the beaten body. “Someone call withers please” She'd beg desperately until he appeared in front of her, and maybe there was still a chance.

Lae’zel

You can’t be dead, she swears as you break in front of her. She wonders how you do it, to smile one last time as you bid her goodbye before falling to the ground, as your bones split in half yet you hold back the screams. It can’t be.

It takes her one second too long to realize what's going on before she’s at your side. Her hands barely shaking as she picks you up and cradles you to her chest.

“Bhaal, can you hear me?” She asks in the hollow temple. “You have made a dangerous enemy” She swears as she tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “I will find you and I will slain you” She screams as she does her best to hold back the tears and stop her voice from shaking. “Tsk'in'va” She can almost hear the god’s laughter as she pulls you impossibly closer, whispering in your ear. “I will avenge you, my love”

Karlach

Anger bubbles up in her stomach, as she bolts down the stairs. "you can't abandon me too, Okay Soldier?” For once she fights the rage, she turns the heat into despair as she falls to her knees and envelopes you with her warmth. It was heartbreaking, for so long she was Stripped of love, of care, and once again the universe was against her. “ FUCK YOU BHAAL. If you think you can take them away from me, you are wrong.” She pulled you up in her arms rocking your lifeless body as shadowheart approached you two. “I WILL HUNT YOU DOWN AND TAKE AWAY ALL YOU CARE ABOUT, You sack of shit“ She screamed in front of the hollow altar that she desecrated with her spit.

Halsin:

Halsin can’t believe his eyes; his body moves as per inertia as he rushes next to you, his arms finding their home around your middle as their usual, and yet met with your lifeless body. He doesn’t care about what happens around him, as your companions take out their weapons ready to fight, he weeps, he prays Silvanus, he holds you as if everything depends on your sweet eyes meeting his again, but he knows.

He knows deep down that Silvanus can’t help him, that his tears can’t bring you back to him, and so he clutches desperately to your cooling body, uncaring if his robes soak in your blood, uncaring if he will break down in front of everyone.

He uses all his magic attempting to heal you, he begs Shadowheart and Jaheira, but neither can help.

The room fell silent when everyone but your companions were alive, the echo of the sobs mixed with the panting as Halsin managed to cast one last spell. The crown of roses sits around your temple delicately as he can’t help but sob louder. So many times he had wished he could stop in a flowerfield to make you a crown, the crown you deserved, yet the only time he was able to give you the flowery circlet, it was as you laid dead in his embrace.

Withers speaks and speaks as Halsin weaves his hands with yours, before placing a soft kiss to your forehead. His tears stained both his and your skin as he can’t help but ignore what the Skeleton is saying, whispering prayers, begging to have you back.

“My love, please, please please” He says under his breath, his eyes are completely drained of tears, his throat is sore, his body aches from sitting on his knees for so long, and yet he doesn’t let go. “Silvanus had just blessed me with you, I can’t lose you already” He cries as he holds you to his chest tighter. Then he feels. The slow beat in your chest, your body fighting to get back in its shape, your chest rising rhythmically as your eyes finally open.

“My love” He sobs as he tightens his grip around your frame. “Don’t do this to me ever again” He nuzzles his head against your shoulders, more tears streaming heavily down his cheeks as his prayers turn to thanks.

“I thought I had lost you forever. For so long I wanted to give you a token of my love and I-” He hiccups. “I failed you, my love”

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withonly-sweetheart · 3 months ago

Text

Shades of Gray

Stylists and photographer; both such burdens but nothing can prepare you for the way Leon's arrival tips over your "shades of gray".

a/n: @chesue00 ... YOU LOVELY LITTLE MANIACAL GENUIS. I LOVE YOU SO SO MUCH I CANT EVEN DESCRIBE IT HOPE YOU LIKE THIS ONE 😍😍😍

i was literally walking just walking you know i see that i have a notification from tumblr (if my slowass had checked the name i wouldve braced myself) but the post pops up

when i tell you i nearly hopped skipped and jumped like my friend gave me the weirdest look ever... like i cant tell you how much that art piece means to me its literally so hot im dying ahahhhhahhahhhh and i cant write smut for SHIT so future me revamp this when you learn the true smut writing ways....

tw: non explicit smut but just to be safe mdni!! also can u guess where the titles from.. heh

wc: 3.4k

“They might fire you with that attitude,” Ada muses quietly, humming to herself as she dusts off the camera lens, wiping it with such precision and care, something you couldn’t manage to do yourself.

You glare up at your superior from where you crouch at the legs of the tripod, scowling. “They can’t do that. I’m single handedly carrying this studio. How broke do you have to be to be both the one of the editors and the photographer?”

“Pretty broke,” she agrees with a small shrug.

“And it’s not even like the models are hot or anything,” you continue, exasperatedly, pinching the bridge of your nose in an attempt to shut your mouth before you say something you might regret. “I better get a promotion after this new guy.”

“Who knows?” Ada laughs, a soft, tinkling sound that seems to ease some of your tension. Between your job(s), there hasn’t been much time to relax, but the fact you storm around the studio with set shoulders, lips twisted in a frown never seems to bother her.

You suppose you should be grateful you have such a good friend. You just wish there was something worth her time here, because you sure aren’t.

<><><><>

“Room 3,” you read from the list, craning your neck to read the words scratched into the paper that’s plastered onto the wall. “Is that where she is?”

“He,” Ada corrects. “A guy, again. Isn’t that exciting?”

She means to sound eager, but you can hear how dry her tone is, and you can’t blame her. Most of the guys that show up are only here to have a quick session, earn some cash, try to get with one of the girls working on set, before rushing away, never to be seen again.

You place a tentative hand on her shoulder, rubbing the muscle there. “I’ll deal with it. You get some rest before the shoot, ‘kay?”

Her weary eyes find you, but they light up somewhat at your suggestion. Without another word, she nods and dips her head before walking off to the lounge. Ada’s overworked, you know that. The least you can do for her is this, right?

Ignoring the fact you’ve never actually done this before, you wipe your trembling, sweaty hands on your pants before sliding the door open.

The man sitting in the chair, eyes slicing to you from the mirror, face softening into a smile as you gawk in the doorway, unable to do much more than offer fragments of a sentence.

“Good,” he murmurs. “I thought you were the director.”

“Uhm. No.” You recognize him, a man you’ve only seen in stretched out movie posters that are plastered everywhere on your apartment block, a man only seen in the vivid ink on paper, on the pixels that cross your screen.

Now he’s really sitting here, in front of you, feet carrying you to stand right behind him. What the hell were you thinking? You meet his eyes in the mirror, too abashed to look directly.

"What are you doing here?" you blurt out in surprise. "You’re an actor! This isn't exactly your scene."

"Is that how you greet a guest?" With an arched brow, he gestures to the cluttered room. "And I could say the same for you. It seems like I'm not the only one who's a little lost."

"You have no idea," you mutter.

"Ah, there it is." Leon leans back, tilting his head to stare up at you, regarding you curiously. "So what’s happening? This your therapy session?"

You glance down and flash a tentative grin. Reaching around him, you quickly wet your hands, then card them through Leon's bronzed hair, working out the tangles and smoothing it into place.

His shoulders tense when your fingertips make contact with the back of his neck, eyes narrowing down at the ground.

"Your hands..." he murmurs unexpectedly. "They're so soft."

You pause, fingers stilling to look down, only to find his eyes closed, a faint smirk playing at his lips. You smile to yourself, feeling a flutter of pride in your work. It had been a long time since you’d done this for a friend, since Ada often recoils at your touch. "Well, you know, this is kinda my thing. Taking care of models, seeing they're relaxed."

“You’re pretty good at it,” he muses.

You feel heat sear your neck and gulp, reaching for some of the confidence that abandons you quickly. "Alright pretty boy, time to get you camera-ready." Spritzing some product, you sculpt his hair into what the director had requested - “tousled but not too tousled, sexy without trying too hard.”

Whatever the hell that meant.

Your hands move fast, eager with a purpose. Under your touch, Leon seems further away, lost in thoughts. When you’re close to finishing, he lifts his head again to meet your gaze.

“I’ll assume you already know my name,” he remarks. “You’ve watched my work?”

“Kinda hard not to.” You don’t mean for it to sound so condescending, but he just squints back up at you as you massage some kind of lotion into his scalp.

“You wouldn’t, by chance, know Ada, would you?” he asks quietly.

“‘Course,” you say with a soft chuckle. “She’s the only reason I have this job.”

Leon nods understandingly. "Sounds just like her. She’s got a way of reeling people in." A wry smile plays on his lips. "So what's next - you joining in on the shoot?"

"Over my dead body," you reply hastily. Leon tilts his head, the silent question molding into acceptance as you continue, "No, I'm just playing assistant for the day, making sure Ada and the girls have what they need. Shouldn't be too hard, right?"

Somehow, looking at Leon's amused expression, you have a feeling you’ll be in for a lot more than that. But that must be the week-old guacamole you bought from Chipotle and ate for lunch today.

<><><><>

The shoot seems to be running smoothly, at least on the outside, when you’re finally done fussing over the minor details, checking off a mental list and trying really hard not to let your gaze dip a little lower than it should.

He doesn’t notice. Of course he doesn’t. He’s at least twenty years older than you. It only worked one way, didn’t it? Always did.

Next to the camera, you’ve taped reference pictures of other models artfully draped across ornate furniture, all courtesy of your work. You don’t exactly know what Leon’s advertising, but you caught a hint of the lavender rosemary liquid Helena was working on last week, so you assume it must be a fragrance shoot.

You spot Ada immediately, lounging on a chaise with one leg extended gracefully. Her emerald gaze flickers over as you approach.

"Well it's about time," she calls out, clapping her hands as she stands. "Hair and makeup, ten minutes ago."

Leon cracks a bemused smile. "We're here now, aren't we? Lead the way, assistant."

“How do you even know her?” you ask, slightly curious about their past, as you usher him into the couch.

“Acquaintances from our old job,” he mutters. And you quickly notice that something’s wrong. Leon looks too tense against the soft, relaxed background, too stressed as he frowns up at you, hands clasped between his spread legs.

So you do what you do best. You kneel in front of him, resting a hand on the ball of his knee. Once again, he steels at your touch, then relaxes, and you look up at him to see his jaw working, as if swallowing his words.

"What do you think you’re doing? Leon whispers, catching your wandering eyes.

“Just trying to help,” you say casually, with a shrug. It was safe to say you know what you’re doing, and even better, you can see it’s working. The corner of his mouth bunches up into a shit-eating grin, just the look you need.

<><><><>

Thirty minutes later, and not a single photo has pleased the director. He sits there like a goddamn statue, flickers of emotion passing his face only when spares a glimpse to the photos Ada calmly hands to him.

Her eyes are seething but her tone is level as she tells you in a low whisper, “I need some coffee or I will choke him.”

You know what that means. So, as if you’re programmed to do it, you swing by the cafe and pick up her coffee, two pumps of almond milk and light ice; the amount of times she’s sent you to fetch her drink is so absurd you’ve memorized it without meaning to.

You’re imagining the way her face will light up at the caffeinated drink chilling your hand, switching it to ease the strain on your fingers, when you turn the corner just as someone else does.

This someone else becomes only apparent to you after you’re done scolding them for not watching where they’re going, staring down at their faintly recognizable, designer brand, worn out shoes that currently have cappuccino dripping onto the material.

You drag your eyes up, ready to glare them down, when those blazing blue eyes meet yours and immediately you realize it’s all your fault, why weren’t you paying better attention to your surroundings?

Leon seems to be frozen, unable to move, as he stares down at his dripping shirt, and due to your perfect luck, the director also rounds the corner. He pushes Leon to the side, exposing the brown easily staining the white linen.

He presses a foot down on one of the stray ice cubes, crushing it and wiping his foot back. You grimace, paling at the idea of his wrath. Is this how you lose your job?

But Leon sighs patiently before he can say anything, inspecting the damage carefully. "Well, we had a good run. Not everything can go our way, hm?"

Your boss doesn’t seem to agree. He taps his foot rapidly on the tiles, a marching tempo, voice like sharpened steel. "You have exactly one minute before I find someone to replace you. Fix this, now."

Without another condition to his threat, he storms away to fume at the rest of the crew. They’ll be singing your praises for days, that's for sure. You wrinkle your nose and stick your tongue out after him, sparking a rumbling chuckle from Leon. You roll your eyes and turn to him, jabbing him in the chest with your pointer finger.

“Why the hell does your shirt even matter when all you’re doing is smelling good?”

<><><><>

You quickly realize that the point of the shoot isn’t to showcase any scent. No, not at all.

The shoot starts like any other - adjusting lighting, discussing shots with the crew. But Ada's knowing smirk and the array of silky fabrics draped nearby piques your suspicion.

"Ada, tell me those aren't...?" you gesture weakly at the snug boxer briefs Leon now models, the only thing on his bare skin, miles of smooth, dewey skin, dimpled with years.

She laughs softly. "Don't pretend you're not enjoying the view. I can see it in your eyes.”

“But for the first shoot?” you whine.

“I don’t make the rules, hun. Now go powder his nose or something equally distracting."

You set to work on Leon's hair and makeup, desperately avoiding eye contact with his barely dressed form. But then he shifts, and the movement draws your gaze as his facade slips away, revealing a broad, scarred back, painted with the stories of his younger days, of memories lost to time.

Leon meets your hesitant eyes in the mirror, one brow cocked knowingly. "See something you like?"

You cough in response, flustered. "Just, uh, admiring my handiwork. You clean up well for a god, Ken- I meant, uh, an amateur model. Yeah. That’s what I said."

He chuckles, low and rich, echoing through your hollow eyes. "Whatever you say, assistant. Now, I believe we have some shots to take?"

He leaves you standing there, in a daze as you watch him saunter off, eyes fixed on a lower point of his back. It was going to be a long week keeping your eyes (and thoughts) professional.

The play of light and shadow dappling his skin, dipping into every crevice of his well-nurtured body and curving around his muscle is something you can’t keep your eyes off of.

He knows. You realize this with a sudden jolt as someone sighs nearby. He knows that everyone’s ogling, and he loves it. The arrogance only fuels his ego, you think, as a collective hush falls over you all.

And just like that, the cocky grin on his face is gone. You can at least admire how well Leon slides, almost effortlessly, into professional mode, shrugging at the director’s instructions to face the camera, to reveal sculpted plains of muscle and dusted chest hair.

Call someone to bring a water bucket, because watching him through the camera, your eyes to the world, the raw truth laid bare for you to witness, sparks flares of heat within you. You have a gut feeling that not even water can put it out.

You seek to capture the subtle shifts in expression on his face, the way his lips curve into a smile or his gaze lingers with a hint of longing. These small details, when frozen in time through the lens of your camera, seem to speak long tales of not only misery, but admiration.

And you catch exactly who they’re directed to.

Ada.

<><><><>

“What do you mean, nothing?” Leon scoffs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “You’re pissy and this is the seventeenth time you’ve nearly pulled out my hair!”

“It’s not like there’s much left, anyways,” you snap back, equally as irritated as you yank at the strands, forcing them to separate, trying to clean the product. Against everything, you still feel the tiniest bit guilty when Leon winces.

“He’s not that old,” Ada calls out, swaying over to the cafe.

“Exactly,” Leon says, but he’s chuckling now, and he waves in greeting to her.

You can’t help but force a smile, trying to make your reaction seem genuine, your silent hatred unnoticeable. This isn’t healthy.

A man? Coming between you and your only friend in this wretched place? What are you, a teenager? But you can’t deny the disgusting, poison green envy that unspools in your stomach, catching onto the flames and turning them into toxic vapor everytime you notice his lingering eyes, her thoughtful smile, the small touches they think no one notices.

It’s hard for you not to, especially when you know he’s been teasing you all week, the bastard. You suppose you should be glad today is the second to last day of this collaboration, and that you’ll never see him after this. Pray that his movies never feature at the local theater again.

But why does he have to be so beautiful? You want to strangle the sculptor, the majestic mind that saw him in the block of hard set marble and brought him to life, all chiseled, lean body, marked with stories, the body you have to stare at with a stony expression as you click the camera. Yet the softest, most gentle touches you’ve ever felt come from him.

Soft like his fingers around your wrist as he glances up at you, evident concern in his azure gaze. "Hey, is everything okay? You seem down."

You shake your head dismissively. "It's fine. Just tired of playing assistant, I guess."

A frown twists his lips. "You know that's not all it was." His thumb rubbed gentle strokes on your skin, setting your nerves alight. "I didn't mean to lead you on if... Well, you seem so young, I didn't want to assume or make you uncomfortable."

Your breath hitches as he stares at you, awaiting your reply. Fortune favors the bold, right? In a rush of courage, you lean down to brush your lips against his stubbled cheek, just the faintest touch.

"Why don’t you come over tonight and try me?"

<><><><>

Leon’s always been depicted in shades of gray, through your camera, the filters of monochrome, white, gray and black sweeping him into dramatic stories. However many shades you have seen in him, more than fifty, you think absently.

When you met him, the glacier tilt of his glistening eyes.

When you shot him, iron gray, the set of his jaw in pondering poses.

The fog his breath on your bare skin, as exposed to him as he was once to you, ash in the scratch of his stubble that sets fire to every part of you it brushes, anchor to the peace bringing doves taking off against your shoulder where his eyelashes flutter, peppering your collarbone with cautious, restrained kisses.

He’s holding back. Right now, he’s the soft gray that washes over the hills in the early mornings, the gray of your tea as you stare out at the horizon.

“What’s wrong?” you whisper, brushing wisps of hair that stick to his face away. Leon glances down at you, eyes contorted in pain.

“I-I can’t,” he chokes out. You’ve never seen him cry, but pearls well up in his icy, stormy eyes, clouds of emotion raining down his cheeks.

So you kiss the hurt away. You push him into the linen bed sheets, muse something about the coffee incident, which sparks a broken chuckle from his glorious, glorious mouth.

Eventually all sorts of things are sprouting from between those lips. You think most of them are profanities, but you’d prefer that over sobbing.

You realize that you never want to see him cry.

Never see the smoky pallor of his face.

<><><><>

You wake to the sounds of metal creaking and strange gushing sounds that you can’t identify. Slightly concerned, you pull on the blinds, letting the dawn sun wash over your tired expression as you peer down at the hotel parking lot.

“Is he…” You squint, rubbing your eyes and blinking before looking back.

Yeah, you were right the first time.

“Why are you- when did you- what?”

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” The corner of his mouth crinkles into a sappy smile, barely visible from under the gleaming, spotless body of a motorcycle. “You aren’t the only one that can multitask.”

“You know you have a shoot today, right?" You rub your eyes, further taking the scene in. He’s definitely been working on the bike for some time, if the spread of tools was any sign.

He waves off your complaint with a huff. “That’s irrelevant. Besides, she matters more to me.”

“She?” You scoff.

"I know, I know." Leon wipes his hands, sliding out from beneath the vehicle with a half-sheepish, half-proud grin. "This old girl needed a tune-up, and I couldn't help myself. You know how it is."

You crouch to his level, sighing and wanting to be annoyed with his spontaneity but finding it hard in the glow of his expression, with the passion that sparkles in his eyes. "Just try not to get too grimy before call time, Leon. Ada will have both our heads."

Leon chuckles, unconcerned as always. "No worries. A quick shower and I'll be shining for the camera again." He waves off your complaint with a huff. “Besides, she matters more to me.”

Your brow furrows in confusion. "She who?"

Leon grins, running a loving hand along the motorcycle's frame. "Why, my precious Matilda, of course."

“Isn’t that your cat's name?”

“Yes… and?”

You roll your eyes but can’t suppress a fond smile. Only Leon would think of naming his vehicle. "Ah, now it all makes sense. I should've known no flesh and blood woman could ever compare to your one true love, your Ducati."

Leon meets your gaze with utmost sincerity, face twinged with amusement as he presses a fleeting kiss to your forehead, curling his fingers around the back of your head.

And his eyes are missing those rolling fogs.

Clear skies.

“Well, some things a man just has to do with his hands, you know?"

#leon kennedy #resident evil #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy fanart #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy angst #death island #di leon #di leon x reader

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strawberrysnoopy · 10 months ago

Text

ACT ONE: The Photo-shoot, Part Two

prologue, part one

warnings: basic stuff (infidelity, mentions of sex and masturbation, ada slander, yadda, yadda), i also don't know how an er really works so..., brief mention of disordered eating habits but not an eating disorder (if that makes sense), foreshadowing (in the same chapter), almost sex but not yet sugar, blah blah, blah. I also can't write fight scenes so whatever. Also I promise that this will be the last dinner party esque scene in a while lol.

tags: @heylesamis, @sweetserial, @iloveyousomuch1989, @galactict3a, @m1sery-busin3ss, @ssulfurr, @julia13123, @nic-stars, @stillhavingdaddyissues, @greywardensaywhat thank you anons for your submissions and helping motivate me to continue this series!

Leon sat beside you in the emergency room, holding up an ice pack to his eye. You hated that out of all things to be concerned about right now, you were staring at his thick biceps and his veiny forearms like some cheap whore. The nurses who saw the both of you come in had looked at Leon first, so you were justified in staring. At least a little. "How's the eye?" You asked, reaching over and pulling the ice pack back a little so you could see the damage. A few capillaries in his eye had burst open, making his eye look all bloody and gross. The beginnings of a dark bruise were beginning to form. "Hurts. But nothing I haven't felt before." True, he was a government agent assigned to save the world over and over again: so this might be just a blip in his entire career. You nod, patting his arm and settling back into your seat beside him. Tonight hadn't been what you anticipated at all. You just wanted a cozy dinner with Leon and your husband to ease his loneliness. He was cooped up in his house and you knew he would neglect to feed himself. Leon wouldn't really consider himself a lonely man. He had friends to bide his time with when Ada was gone doing a mission. Your husband was one of those people, and of course, by instinct: the invite of friendship was gracefully extended to you. However, Leon would really hate to admit that you're the better in maintaining the friendship than your husband ever was. You were the one to start inviting him over for dinner when Ada was gone because you knew he'd probably put some half-assed attempt in feeding himself everyday. Not that he didn't know how to cook (he was quite an excellent one, in fact), he felt that it was kind of pointless if you ate when there wasn't someone to share the meal with.

Tonight was one of those nights for him. You texted him earlier this afternoon, offering him dinner and the company of friends. He could practically hear your soft voice from over the phone: the kindness you radiated with your mere presence lighting him up like the Fourth of July. Of course he had to accept your invitation, it's not like he had plans: other than sitting in his boxers, drinking and stare at the ceiling while he laid in bed. You were rather quick to trot over to the door when Leon came knocking. There was a stupid grin plastered on your face and with the way your eyes looked at him with a bright, glimmering shine glazing over them. "Leon!" You squeal, capturing him into your arms and swaying him back and forth. A low and rumbly chuckle escaped his throat while he hugged you, arms finding their home around your waist. Your husband's off somewhere in the house, if you had to guess accurately: by the fridge, contemplating how plastered he was planning on getting tonight in the shortest amount of time. Perhaps he'd go a little slower tonight, but you don't have much hope in him with the fact Leon's there. It might encourage him. Who knows.

"I appreciate you having me over tonight. So nice of you to make sure I'm never lonely." Among other things. But he's not squealing too soon. Your eyes longingly rake over his body, and god, the gall of this man to not appear in your life sooner and sweep you off of your feet. Noticing he's wearing something different, he smiles at you and pinches your cheek, muttering the same nickname he always called you.

Silly Girl.

God, fuck this man to the highest degree, you curse to yourself. And his attire?! Oh fuck him. You tried not to notice his attire. It was that of a somewhat dorky husband. Perhaps that’s what attracted Ada, perhaps that’s what made her hate him so much. Regardless, you loved the somewhat silly outfit on him of a gray sweatshirt he’s had since police academy, the lip of his boxers visible from above his jeans if he stretched his arms up (maybe bless your eyes and existence with the token appearance of his happy trail), and some semi-baggy jeans with his beat up shoes. He was a handsome man, and he seemed to know it. Yet, he still had enough a heart to be humble. Dinner was served quickly, everyone taking their seats at the table. Leon had praised you on your cooking skills with words (and a hand patting your thigh under the table. Hot.) The conversation was light-hearted, cheerful, but most of all, refreshing. The table had even gotten to the topic of firsts: obviously dancing over the first time any one of you had sex but you had a sneaky feeling your tipsy turning drunk husband would bring it up. "So, who was your first kiss, Leon?" You asked, taking a bite of the braised rib on your plate (that you worked your ass off on, might we add) while your head slowly turned over to meet his gaze. "Some girl in like...4th grade. She kissed me first. I don't even remember her name." You laugh, jokingly raising your hand to signal you were the same. "Anyone after that?" Leon shakes his head. "Just some college girls and Ada." The table falls silent, the sound of forks scraping against the plate and quiet chewing beginning to get on your nerves due to the fact nobody was speaking. "And after that?" Your husband chimes in and you realize you would rather just have the sounds of chewing and forks scraping than having him say something stupid. Leon shakes his head, assuming whatever your husband was trying to imply was a joke, but you knew better and you had a feeling he knew better as well. "Oh, come on, Leon. You're telling me you haven't at least kissed another woman after marrying Ada." He fights back an eye roll. You laugh. "Can't say I have." "No? Seriously. That's what makes relationship so healthy. Just a once in a while business trip where you're drowning in pussy." Your mouth dried. Blink and you'd miss it, Leon's cool facade cracks and shatters, a scowl overtaking his face. "Well. I'll have to think about that sometime." You look at him, noticing that he was threatening to say something. Something ballsy. Something that might, quite literally, have your soaked panties flung across the room. The look in your eyes was daring him to say it. The fucked part of you wanted to hear it.

"What if someone fucked your wife? Would it be any different?" And just like that, you're on fire. Of course you found it hot. Because his best friend, who is not supposed to have any romantic feelings towards his friend's wife mind you, was actually standing up for you. "The fuck you just say to me?" Leon gets up from his seat with a death glare that could kill any man but oh lord, you? You're fucking living for this. "You heard me. What if I fucked your wife? Would it be any different?" Your eyes widen, head snapping over to Leon. Oh, he wanted to fuck you? He wanted to fuck you? Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit! Within minutes, your husband tackles Leon and tries punching him but if you think he's winning this fight, you are sorely mistaken. Leon was a government agent and in seconds, he's on top of Ezra beating the lights out of him. After the shock (let's be honest here, giddiness) passes, you pull Leon off of your husband, mumbling to him to calm down. You were surprised when he had apologized and asked to take your husband to the emergency room.

"How's the eye?" You asked, reaching over and pulling the ice pack back a little so you could see the damage. A few capillaries in his eye had burst open, making his eye look all bloody and gross. The beginnings of a dark bruise were beginning to form.

"Hurts. But nothing I haven't felt before." True, he was a government agent assigned to save the world over and over again: so this might be just a blip in his entire career. You nod, patting his arm and settling back into your seat beside him. Tonight hadn't been what you anticipated at all. You just wanted a cozy dinner with Leon and your husband to ease his loneliness. He was cooped up in his house and you knew he would neglect to feed himself. "I'm sorry." He murmured to you, referencing the least important elephant in the room. "About him...cheating on you. If it's any consolation, I'm sure he's not—" You interrupt him.

"He is. It's nothing I don't already know." He nodded, finally taking your hand in his own and running his calloused thumb across the soft and vastly explored top half of your hand. Your husband cheated on you. Something you had dreaded for so long when you first met him but now the fact was spoken into the air just felt like...relief. Like you didn't have to play the guessing game anymore. You weren't acting in a role of a dumb, clueless housewife bobbling around with her mouth and legs open if your husband so chose to have mercy on your needs and finally have mediocre sex with you. "And I also want to apologize for what I said. About fucking you. I wouldn't actually do that to you, yeah? I was just pissed he said that stuff to you." You both know it's bullshit. You both know he wants to fuck. You both know he sleeps with Ada wishing it was you. You pat his arm. "It's okay." A nurse arrives into the waiting room, clipboard totted on her side and a much too relieved poker face gracing her features. "Your husband is alright. We admitted him for a few days to monitor his status, make sure nothing odd pops up. Just needed a few stitches and painkillers so he should be fine." The both of you took that as a cue to take off for the night. Although Leon had been wondering if you'd even visit him in the hospital after the whole cheating confession thing, probably not. Getting up from your seats, Leon takes you by the hand and walks you out to your car. The night air was a soothing chill against your skin, the warmth of Leon's palm bursting through the layers of cold your body temperature had managed to build up. "If you ever decide to....y'know...divorce him. You can always stay with us for a bit while you get back on your feet." His hand rubbed up and down your arm, soothing you like you had lost something very special to you. Which you had: your husband. But that was long ago and the admission was a long time coming: the band-aid had been ripped off of your skin and the pain had subsided. "Thank you." You whisper. He nods. His eyes flicker down to your lips, hand moving from the side of your cold arm to your cheek. His thumb caresses your bottom lip and moving dangerously close to the inside of your mouth. In his eyes, they're zoned out, almost like he's reminiscing of Ada. But you're not Ada. You're you. And that's what has him writhing with lustful agony. But the problem was that there was still a woman he was betrothed to and as much as he hated it, he had a duty to be loyal to her. He hadn't ever broken that loyalty to her and he's not starting anytime soon. With a sigh, he pulls away from you. "I'll see you around, yeah?" He doesn't even let you respond before he awkwardly pats your arm and leaves you alone in the hospital parking lot, leaving you wanting for more. "...Bye." You mumble, getting into your own car to drive home. But on the ride home, Leon's left you wondering. Wondering what would happen if he had just thrown caution to the wind and kissed you. But he was right. You were both married. The most tragic thing of all being that it's not to each-other.

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manicpixiefelix · 9 months ago

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head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 18.

Summary: Love as seen in the stars, in the flowers that bloom, in your best friend's eyes, and in the taste of him on Oliver's tongue as you catch him in the bathtub. Summer continues at Saltburn.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: SMUT; vouyerism, dom!reader, handjob, bathwater as lube, cumming almost untouched, pervert/enabler dynamics. I cannot stress to you enough that both the reader and Oliver are COMPLETE AND UTTER FREAKS ABOUT FELIX in the bathtub scene.

A/N: 6670 words. this chapter is very special to me for a lot of reasons, but mainly because there have been several scenes that i've been writing for a while now that have all found their forever home in this chapter. if you have any feedback or thoughts about this chapter or the story so far, i'd always love to hear them! also something something bath water something ;o)

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

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Things were easier to navigate now that you understood Oliver. Or at least you thought you understood. Less fucking around with Farleigh and Venetia in Oliver's peripheries; when you put yourself on display, it was as an extension of Felix. If Felix had noticed the change, he hadn't commented on it. Considering how much effort you put in making him feel good and moan like a whore for Oliver's benefit, he probably appreciated it.

Things with Oliver himself were getting better by the day too, it seemed. More and more he was reaching out for you again. Sitting too close, sharing your space, seeking you out when his time wasn't filled with Felix. There's less tension too, on the nights you share in the lilac study. Oliver's been through the book you'd given him on the Estate, and has moved on to picking out books he'd found on your bookshelf, it seemed. You, having quickly identified the flower he'd mentioned as the honeysuckle, native to Australia, had also moved on to books from your Summer reading list for your upcoming year at Oxford. As the first week of Summer is coming to an end, it seems as though Oliver had finally settled in at Saltburn.

"Do you miss your room?" Oliver asks one evening. Without even looking up from your own book, you give a fond laugh, shaking your head.

"It was more just a formality half the time," you tell him with an easy smile, "a place to keep my stuff." Looking at him beside you on the sofa, you see he understands the implications, the holidays you and the others have reminisced about, the trysts masquerading as something much more innocent that you would share with them all when you were at the Estate. There's nothing judgemental in his eyes, there never was when it came to Oliver, "why?"

"It all just feels very much like you in there," he offers, gaze wandering as he speaks, "Felix's room feels very You-And-Felix, and I get bits of him in your room too, but it feels much more you." You're actually rather surprised by how well you understand what he means, "like up on your roof you've got these little stars. They glow. I didn't notice them the first few nights."

Your smile widens, all bright and warm, and you close your book.

"Do you want to have a sleepover, Ollie?" You ask with a childish kind of glee. The offer seems to take Oliver by surprise, but you lean forwards, "like an actual sleepover, like we're kids again."

"You still do just sleepovers?" Seems to escape Oliver without him quite meaning it to, and for a moment your expression does falter a little.

"Yeah," you can't help but feel a little self conscious, "promise I'm not trying to seduce your or anything," then, shifting your legs from him you shuffle back to sit cross-legged on the sofa, "we actually do them kind of a lot, or, well, I do. I think Farleigh and Ven have a few and I know when they get tipsy Ven and Fi have had a few. Sometimes after events when we were teenagers we'd all head back to one of our rooms and end up all passed in the same bed trying to fit in like sardines, all four of us."

"That's very cute," Oliver says softly after a long moment of silence, and when you finally meet his gaze again, he's smiling.

"Yeah," you grin once more, "we were."

Which is how you ended up back in Oliver's room, back in your old bed, looking up at the canvas that made up your ceiling, stretched across the full length of the room, rigged and taught, littered with a constellation of glowing stars. Oliver, laying still beside you, asks about it, and you have to explain that there was no way in hell you would ever be allowed to mark the actual roof of any room in the Saltburn Estate. Which he realises makes a lot of sense once you say it out loud.

"But you should see Felix's ceiling, it's much more impressive," you tell him softly, not even aware how your smile was coming through even in your words. Oliver, bedside you, was simply quiet as he gazed at the glowing dots, "haven't you ever looked up at the ceiling in Fi's room?"

"Not properly," Oliver admitted quietly, and the silence lapses out between you both for several contented seconds, "did you two do this?"

"I did," you said proudly, "and this is just from what I had left over."

"What do you mean?"

"About this time, uh," you considered for a long while, trying to remember the full context of the stars that littered both yours and Felix's ceilings, "seven years ago I think, Felix pretended to have gotten really into astronomy as an excuse to always be out of bed, out on his balcony at night."

"But... he wasn't really?" Oliver's head shifted on his pillow to look at you and your amused smile. You shook your head.

"He picked up smoking from Venetia, she was bribing him with cigarettes to hide both her own habit and the fact that she gave it to him."

Oliver shifts beside you on the bed, no longer content with looking at the stars you'd placed there, interested, it seemed, only in watching you.

"How old was Felix?" He's looking at you, clearly listening and invested, but he seems distracted by something.

"Fourteen," you sighed, "Ven was fifteen, which really isn't much better -"

"And how old were you when you picked the habit up from Felix?" Oliver asks with the faintest, knowing quirk of his lips. Embarrassed about how well he seemed to know you, your whole face scrunched up momentarily, "fourteen?" Oliver teased when you refused to answer, grin widening as you squeezed your eyes shut. Still, he went on, "so when you say Felix pretended to get into astrology seven years ago to hide his smoking habit, you mean you and Felix pretended to get into astrology seven years ago?" And this is when you feel Oliver's gentle fingertips touch your flustered face. His fingertips beginning to glide so gracefully along your features, as you relaxed into a simple, embarrassed smile.

You really weren't trying to do anything untoward with him tonight, you weren't lying about that. Still, you wouldn't rebuff any kind of gentle affection he had to offer.

"Well, yeah," you admitted, and Oliver makes a noise for you to continue as he seemed to be wanting to map each delicate feature on your face through touch alone, "but Fi ended up really getting into it. Went through this whole big astronomy phase that year - I say that year; he still really into it - but back then, it was..." you closed your eyes, letting yourself be immersed in the memory of how excited Felix had been. Felix was always a beautiful sight to behold when he was passionate.

"Little Felix," Oliver mused fondly, "bet he was desperate to be an astronaut." Oliver touches you like you're porcelain, so delicate and precious, his fingertips skimming your cheeks and brushing your eyelashes.

"Actually," you laughed a little, though not unkindly, at the memory. Opening your eyes, you turn just enough to be looking at Oliver, to catch the adoring look in his eyes as his hand stilled, now simply holding your cheek, "he wanted to be the guy who got to give speeches about the stars and planets and the universe every day at the planetarium," you recounted, "and become a Doctor of Astronomy so he could make the videos they play in the room with the domed roof that you get to lay back and watch in the dark," you grinned, "but also then he could still be the guy who gave the speeches, but he'd get to answer questions about his own movie about the universe as well." After a moment of silence, Oliver smiles so widely and genuinely; you know he can see it so clearly, "he'd be so good at it, wouldn't he?"

"He'd be cute," Oliver agreed softly, fondly.

"So for his fifteenth birthday, I spent weeks designing and figuring out how to rig this piece of canvas across his whole roof, since I couldn't paint or mark his ceiling, what with this being a heritage building," you explained, proud little smile on your face, "and I asked my nan about all these paints and fancy pigments and stuff that would last and would glow in the dark, because nan's a painter and she's always had this gift with like, making her paintings look like they glow," you turned to Oliver, expression so adoring, "but Fi turned fifteen while we were at boarding school, so the very next break we had, I convinced him to spend the first week visiting Farleigh and his aunt in America, while I was back here, spending night and day on this. I had the whole canvas stained navy, and nan even stayed here for a few days to help me with painting it all perfectly and making sure all my paints would do exactly what I wanted them to, and we painted this canvas-ceiling I'd set up for him to look like his favourite starscape at the London Planetarium." Giving a loud, contented sigh, you added almost as an afterthought, "there's probably a bunch of the print outs of references I used somewhere in the study; the Planetarium people were so lovely."

"Is that why Felix is doing a physics degree?" Oliver practically gasped like it was a revelation; right, you forgot Felix rarely bothered to explain anything about his academics to anyone. When you confirmed as much, Oliver seems somehow more shocked, "I never got the impression that he thought much of uni." It's... not an incorrect observation to have made about at least half of Felix's academic career.

"He gets weird about it, about talking about it and stuff, thinks he sounds like a nerd," you agree after a moment, with a fond laugh, "he's got this weird mind for physics and anything really related to space and stars and astronomy, but he'd rather complain about the electives that he takes despite knowing he'll hate them."

"Then why does he take them?"

"A lot of them are actually my core subjects," finally you admit, a little abashed, "he knows I'm not as fond of my course as he is of his, so he takes them out of solidarity and complains the whole time." You're pretty sure Oliver can hear the sickeningly sweet undercurrent of I love him, I love him, I love him in your tone, but you can't help it. Neither of you have much more to say on the matter, but you think you know what Oliver's thinking. Something about favouritism, about best friends, about how he's pretty sure that Felix Catton wouldn't do that for anyone else.

And he'd be right.

"Hey Ollie?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I move closer?"

"'course," his voice is warm and soft and before you even move he's coaxing you closer to him, arm around you, letting you rest your head on his chest.

"Thanks for letting me sleep over," you yawned, but the affection in your voice was sincere. A chuckle rumbles through Oliver's chest, and he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

"Thank you for suggesting it."

Oliver's warmth is familiar and foreign all at once. How is it that you could have missed someone so much despite only having spent one night beside him.

However the following morning, over breakfast, Elspeth gives you a reminder about an upcoming event that you'd been trying desperately not to think about.

"Y/N, darling, I just thought I'd remind you about the Arts Collective dinner we'll be hosting in a few days," her voice is carefully neutral as she brings it up. You freeze, "Duncan needs to finalise the numbers today so the kitchen can start figuring out what we need to order. We'll be gathering in the fairy garden for drinks and canapes beforehand." What she's really trying to ask is if you'll be in attendance considering your mother's name is on the guest list. Before you can properly answer, however, she turns to Farleigh and asks if he's still intending on joining the garden portion of the gathering.

"As usual, I will I'll indeed be showing my face for wine and cheese," he says, though his smile is tight, "at my mother's behest."

"I'll be taking dinner in my study that night," you force a smile at Elspeth, and she gives you the same kind of look that was so often directed towards Pamela. Pity. Sympathy. You poor, dear, thing, I understand. In a moment, however, she brightens once more and asks if Oliver would like to join the pre-dinner gathering, or if he'd simply like to attend dinner, dismissively assuming that both of her own children would be forgoing the garden themselves - she'd be right.

You can feel Felix looking at you as you return your focus to your breakfast, but you remain uncharacteristically stoic for the rest of the meal. As your plate is taken away, you try to shake your negativity, looking up and around as you ask if any of the others have plans for the day. Swimming, reading, lounging around; leisure, as always. But you feel as though you'll get lost in your own head if you don't do something with yourself today.

So instead, you find something suitable to garden in, and spend a good deal of the day in your garden, uprooting all of the purple pincushions in preparation. It's satisfying to be working with your hands, satisfying to be ripping the flowerless stalks up by the roots and disposing of them in a bucket to later be composted. You'd brought your iPod and little speaker and make a day of it in the garden, waiving the staff off who offer to help, only asking them what the garden needed that day.

You till the soil you'd just disturbed, mixing fertiliser in in preparation for the plants due to be arriving in a day or two, and water the rest of the plants in both rings. You take great care, admiring each flower in bloom, and even the more utilitarian ivy that curled across the latticed archway of an entrance.

Some of the staff members bring you food and water throughout the day, and for each one that does, you invite them to stop and sit and talk for any time they had spare. All seem surprised by the invite, and even moreso when you seem to know them by name, and how eager you are to ask them about themselves. They also all seem grateful to get off their feet for a few minutes.

Duncan sits very awkwardly opposite you at the picnic table. He does not touch the food he has brought you, even as you push it to the middle of the table, as an offering. Duncan does not ask questions. Duncan has never much liked speaking unless spoken to. But still, you know he's more than willing to refuse a request for company such as the one you'd made, so you take the kindness for what it is. He watches you down the bottle of water he'd also brought like your life depended on it.

"How long has it been since you last applied any sunscreen?" He does finally broach the surprisingly comfortable silence. He'd provided you with a tube of the stuff as you'd announced your intentions to spend the day gardening, and now it sat at the other end of the picnic table with the gardening tools. You promise to reapply after you'd finished your lunch, but smile at him warmly. He gives one of his awkward smiles back, and asks if you need a hat, which you decline.

"Your mother has confirmed that she will be in attendance with the Arts' Collective," he says, and you go still, "what would you like to be brought for dinner that evening?" The confirmation stings, but you know this is Duncan's way of showing he cares about you. You get to pick your own dinner, unlike most other nights, and he won't subject you to the cruel anticipation of wondering just whether your mother really would or would not be in the same house as you.

Trying your best to smile, you let him know that you'll think about it, and get back to him tonight. With a faint nod, Duncan stands smoothly, and leaves the garden once more. He'd always been good to you, in his own way.

By mid-afternoon, you've done all you can, and head back to the house to soak, and perhaps even have a sulk about the upcoming event, in the tub until you had to get ready for dinner.

Except Felix doesn't even knock before he bursts into the bathroom, already in his suit with a bottle of champagne in his hand. He's practically radiating joy as he informs you that he and the others had managed to get their hands on several bottles of champagne and are going to hit the tennis courts before dinner.

Black tie tennis and getting absolutely shitfaced sounded great right about now. You were already feeling pretty recovered from the day seeing as you'd spent over an hour in the bath already, so much to Felix's delight, you agree to join them with a delighted grin. From somewhere behind him, Venetia also orders you to wear something flashy.

"If you're in a black suit too I swear I'm going to scream!"

Which is how you end up in your bright red suit pants with the red, silk paisley embroidery, and matching suit vest, buttoned up, with nothing beneath it. It's also the kind of thing you can move in, throw yourself around in, which is perfect for how the five of you play tennis.

Champagne bottle in one hand, tennis racket in the other, the sunset paints you all a joyful gold. Swapping in and out on all sides to play even games, you find yourself forgetting everything that had been weighting you down, instead drowning in your friends laughter. So often your gaze is caught by Oliver and Felix, cheering, drinking, playing. Love swells in your chest at the sight.

You all share giggles over dinner, and while Elspeth and James and Pamela can all clearly tell that you're all already drunk, the way the five of you are all grinning softens their exasperation.

After, not wanting this rather fantastic evening to end, you end up on one of the many balconies or patios, you're not sure which, sharing a sofa and several cigarettes, and the last of a bottle of champagne with Felix. He's got his head in your lap, pointing out constellations, but all you can see is him, the stars shining in his eyes and wide, excited smile he always got when he was rambling about something he was passionate about. Good how you loved his passion; you wished Oliver were here to see him like this. Of course Oliver loves him, and of course he's desperate for Felix to love him back; to be loved by Felix was -

"You're thinking about Ollie, aren't you?" Felix's voice breaks through your thoughts, and you can see he's grinning up at you, nothing but affection in his eyes.

"I'm thinking about you," you corrected, carding your fingers through his hair.

"You're always thinking about me," he says it so easily, so dismissively, throwing the idea away despite how vain it would sound if it weren't rather true, still he takes on a teasing tone, "you get this look about you when you think about Ollie," he reaches up and pokes your cheek.

"He loves you," you give a contented sigh after a moment, expression turning soft, of course he does, how could he not? But that's also kind of a given.

"And you," Felix's jabbing finger turns to a gentle hand holding your face, "that's why we're being absolute sluts, isn't it? Trying to get him to make a move?" And you laugh, loud and bright, in agreement. But then, after a moment, there's a change in Felix, something in his eyes. It's not jealousy, but it's more serious than before.

"Fi?" Your voice is soft, and he smiles at you, overwhelmingly adoring.

"I've been getting to watch you fall in love," he said gently, incredulously, "how weird is that?" Something tightens in your chest.

"Again," you correct. Felix gives you a vaguely confused look, but you can't help but shake your head at your beautiful fool of a best friend, "you get to see me fall in love again, Felix." You roll your eyes, but as he's hit with the implications of your words hit him, a beautiful flush works its way up his cheeks. He actually has to cover his face with his hands, embarrassment and joy lighting up his expression.

"You're so sappy," he crows, "you are so fucking sappy!" You practically cackle with glee draping yourself over him, onto his chest, the two of you awkwardly wrapped up in each other on this little sofa. As your laughter dies down, you give a faint hum.

"But he's not your competition, for the record, he never really was -"

"I'm not jealous! I've told you that!" Felix insists, "I thought I made that clear!"

"You have, Fi," you laughed, "but what I'm saying is... well, he knows I love you both, and he loves me, but he's not -" ever going to love me the way he loves you, God, you can't say that. It takes the last bit of self restraint you have to bite that back, shifting to get a little more comfortable, you reach out and stroke Felix's hair.

"Fi, I have spent months watching him fall so in love with you, the way I often hope, or," you laughed a little self conciously, "feared, the rest of the world would," and slowly Felix uncovers his face, those big, brown eyes of his full of all kinds of hope and affection, "he was never your competition, Fi, he's mine," you joked.

"Oh," the flush on his cheeks only grows steadily darker, and the faint exclamation comes out as more of a breathless gasp, "Ollie's your competition for..." He grins sheepishly, like he just wants to hear you say it.

"You, Fi," you tell him with an affectionate grin, but for it up with a nonchalant shrug and teasing smirk, "though competition implies that either of us would make you choose."

You would never let him know the full truth. You'd let him believe wholeheartedly that while you both loved Oliver, he reciprocated that wholeheartedly. Which was... mostly true. True enough that it kept Felix happy and you happy enough.

Yes, Oliver loves Felix, and therefore loves you by extension. Only you knew how sharp that distinction really was.

But you realised Felix was right; he was watching you fall in love with Oliver, and you too had been watching him fall for the boy as well, even if it did seem to be a slower process than it had been with you. You reasoned that Felix had far more reason to be cautious with his heart, especially with men. The first and last boy you'd seen him fall in love with broke his fucking heart at Saltburn, you knew part of him was terrified for history to repeat itself. But clearly he couldn't stop himself from falling in the end.

It was a waiting game now, either Oliver makes a real move and proves his love and loyalty to Felix, or Felix makes a real move and proves to Oliver that his affections are entirely, overwhelmingly genuine. So you'd be the proxy when you had to be, something a little safer for them both while they built up the courage.

Though you're not above stressing this tension that's building between them. The bend before the break, how far it would go before it snaps and you can all stop dancing around this thing that you all clearly want.

And an opportunity arises in the days that follow.

Saltburn creaks it's own kind of melody, it always has. You've become used it, learned the ebb and flow of the house and it's noises, the way it settles itself as it cools from the Summer afternoon heat. You know which door is shutting in the rooms adjacent to yours and Felix's just by the sound of the latches alone, and you know all too well which floorboards squeak along the halls you frequent.

On Felix's balcony, winding down for the day with a book as he takes a bath before bed, you don't hear the creak of the little hall between Oliver's room and the bathroom. The blinds are drawn over the bathroom window, but you catch a faint bit of movement in the mostly dark hall and give pause in your reading.

You could barely make out the arch of a shoulder through the break in the blinds, but you could tell that beautiful, bathing Felix had himself a captive audience. Part of you wondered if it was by chance or by choice, if Oliver was watching or simply listening, and if Felix knew either way. He'd have to; there's no way Oliver was adept enough at moving through Saltburn silently that Felix hadn't heard that awful floorboard that creaked right before the bathroom door.

Oh there was purpose to this, you were sure. Felix knew the feeling of Oliver's gaze upon him, the want he so callously toyed with, seeing it in Oliver's eyes all too often. All the world's a stage for Felix Catton, you just wonder what kind of reaction he's trying to pull from tonight's audience. Settling back in with your book, all you can do is wait.

When you hear the water start to drain from the tub, you still take your time, give them both time for anything to occur, before you feel a sense of disappointment or defeat in your heart.

"Can I come in and brush my teeth yet?" You knock loudly at his door and hear Felix laugh on the other side.

"Since when do you knock?" Wrapped in his robe and sitting on the edge of the bathtub, Felix is drying his hair with his towel as you come in. Before you can answer, he follows it up with, "since when did you care if I was in the bath for that sort of thing?"

"It's called respecting your privacy, Fi," you tell him, swanning past him to get to your toothbrush. You do give pause, however, stopping in front of him, and he lowers the towel, as if in anticipation. For a moment you lift his chin, loving the way he grins in almost sappy anticipation, and you give him a quick peck on the lips before you're moving on again and he's back to getting the water from around the edges of his face and ears.

Oliver, who'd watched the whole exchange after slinking into the bathroom from the opposite door, looks quickly at himself in the mirror as you join him in collecting your toothbrush.

"Do you want me to start respecting your privacy?" There's half a joke in Felix's voice, since it's a strange sentiment for you both, especially at Saltburn. Oliver's gaze flicks to you, then to Felix in the mirror.

"If I needed privacy I know you'd respect it," toothpaste on your brush, you leave Oliver's side of the bathroom to join Felix, the two of you having devolved from a real conversation, into some kind of silly, mock-conversations entirely consisting of eyebrow movements, and trying not to choke on your laughter as you brushed your teeth.

Oliver was watching, of course, Oliver was always watching, but you kept noticing the way he'd glance at the bathtub as it continued to drain between the three of you, stealing focus. There was tension in his shoulders, in his gaze, in the way he held himself. Never turning away from the sink - you'd bet he was hard. Oblivious Felix - at least that's how he appeared - was doing nothing but the most mundane bathroom task, which still wasn't able to help Oliver's current state with the way he was glowing, content and beautiful in the steamy bathroom, hair still slick and curling and clinging to his beautiful face.

You watch Oliver swallow hard in the mirror, but then his gaze meets yours. In this moment you don't do anything, you barely acknowledge what you saw, but you see the rapid way he starts to blink as he looks away, as if hoping he'd imagined the look in your eyes.

You finish brushing your teeth in silence after that, only stopping to wish Oliver good night after Felix does, the two of you closing your door to the bathroom.

"I'm going to finish my chapter then I'll be right with you," you tell Felix with a warm smile, picking up your book on the balcony as he yawned loud and wide. He tells you there's no rush, that he'll be out in only a few minutes. True to his word, after a long day, his deep breathing starts to take over not too long after the lights go out.

Except for the one in the bathroom. Just as you'd expected.

You turn out the lamp on the balcony, and move quietly through the darkness. Yes, you know the way Saltburn creaks and moans, know how to make yourself known, or how to slip through the shadows like you're made of them. The old house is well maintained, the hinges on doors don't creak if you move them right, you can slip into the role of observer with ease if you know how.

Behind you, you close the door almost all the way, making sure the latch sits flush with the door for privacy without it's click of proper closing giving you away.

The water is still draining from the tub, Felix's water, and Oliver there along with it. The running water echoes through the old pipes, but not loud enough to cover the lewd noises you hear from the bathtub. The slurping, the moaning, the grateful sighs of contentment to be afforded this moment of perversion.

You let him have his moment. Then you let the door click shut.

Immediately Oliver sits up, panic on his face; he looks like he wants to say something, to explain himself, say anything, but he can't seem to find the words. It's like he was expecting Felix. Or even if he was expecting you, he was expecting judgement. When you remain quiet, remain observant, you watch his panic fade to something wary.

Why? You knew exactly what he was doing, why are you just standing there, watching him? You can see the questions in his eyes, and feel your heart rate pick up. Slowly, you move towards him. Slowly, you let yourself smile.

Oliver sits back in the tub, never taking his eyes off of you, the way you stalk around the space, predator and captured prey, caught red handed. Your fingers trail the lip of the tub, graceful, threatening, until you get to him, his shoulders pressed against the porcelain. His expression is taut, defiant, ready to push back against any kind of mockery or blackmail attempts, you assume.

No, you want him to relish this moment.

You curl your fingers in his hair, leaning down by the edge of the bathtub to make sure he finally sees how pleased you are by this development. The moment he realises, you can see his thinly veiled panic turn to a conflicted kind of desire. But you don't give him another moment before you crash your lips to his, wasting no time, licking at his lips to deepen the kiss, to taste Felix on his tongue.

And you climb into the bath with him, sitting on your knees between his spread legs, mouth on his like you're desperate to devour each other. Oliver is pressed against the edge of the bath, one arm along the edge, the other braced beside him, his mind still catching up to the moment even as he gasps into your mouth.

You break the kiss, the faintest hiss from your kiss-bruised lips being all he needs as a reminder to be quiet. Everything about him has changed, has become needy, pupils so shiny and dark with lust you could lose yourself in him. Instead, you let go of his hair, taking his jaw in a forceful grip, tilting his head to the side roughly, fingernails digging into his cheek. But his eyes flutter closed, choked kind of whimper escaping him, half muffled behind your hand over him mouth as you carefully angle his head back a little further.

He'd indulged himself in Felix's bath water, pressed himself into it, tried to lose himself in it, and the remnants of those moments of extasy clung so delicately to his skin. You take your time, kissing delicate drops of Felix's water from Oliver's beautiful features like a lover, temple to cheekbones down to his jaw. When you finally relax your grip on him, his head tilts enough for him to meet your gaze. Oliver is yours, totally and completely at your mercy. Good. Once his gaze moves to your mouth, to the pleased, hungry smile you wore, he couldn't look away.

With your hand trailing down his body, teasing against his ribs and belly until your nimble fingers find their way beneath the elastic of his pyjama pants, he tries to meet you in the middle, tries to kiss you, but that's not how this game goes.

The hand you'd been using to brace yourself over him pressed against his chest, pressing him back against the porcelain, and you go with him, your cheek pressed to his, lips by his ear, his heavy breathing, desperate panting in your own. The hand on his chest finds his necklace, entangling two fingers in it until it became tight enough that you could feel the hard way he swallowed when you finally wrapped your hand around his achingly hard cock.

"Good boy," you purred into his ear as you worked your hand up and down his cock, already leaking precum into his boxers. Oliver bites down on your shoulder to muffle his moan, and you have to fight to keep your own whimper quiet. The two of you find a rhythm, panting echoing in each other's ears and Oliver's hips rocking to meet your hand each time.

When you move away, Oliver looks momentarily despairing - no, please, don't stop! - in his eyes, but you reassure him with a languid kiss as you ease his pyjama pants down enough to properly free his cock. Now, when you sit back on your heels, he watches you with a dark kind of want in his eyes. Like a cornered animal, unsure of what to expect, but full of anticipation nonetheless; he watches you reach behind yourself to the drain, to the last remnants of Felix's bathwater still clinging to the metal and porcelain. You gather as much of the liquid as you can across your fingers, palms pressing into the mostly diminished puddles.

You can see it when Oliver realises what you're doing, the way his eyes transfixed on your hand as you wrap it around him. Already slick with his own precum, your hand glides with the remnants of Felix's water. Oliver's head drops back against the edge of the tub, mouth open and desperate and gasping, his eyes closed. God he's gorgeous like this.

He coaxes you up to him this time, and you let him, press yourself to him, rocking gently along with the movements of your hand and his hips, close enough to fucking to tease you both. For all this was about Oliver, every part of you felt alive and on fire with need, and seeing him like this, getting him into this state and knowing how he looked at you, how much he wanted you in this moment, it was doing things for you. Fantastic things.

When he gets close, he wraps an arm around you, hand holding the back of your head in a far firmer grip than you'd been anticipating. But there's a thrill about it, about how he holds you so tightly, his lips by your ear as you obligingly speed up to meet the frantic pace of his hips.

"Felix~" he keens, a desperate whimper in your ear amid dizzying, gasping breathes, hot against your neck. And again, Felix's name pulled from Oliver's lips like a desperate prayer for only you to hear. Something about hearing it tips you over the edge, and you realise how close you are in this moment. All it takes is you making the faintest whine, a noise of encouragement -

"Felix, please," Oliver gasps, and your breath catches as you see stars behind your eyes. You barely feel it when Oliver sinks his teeth into your shoulder once more, his orgasm hitting mere moments after yours, cumming all over your hand and his stomach. Finally, Oliver lets you go, eyes wide as you lean back with the widest, satisfied smile. There's blood on his lips, watching you with this unreadable expression as you sit back on your heels again.

Your head's still spinning, endorphins pulsing through your blood alongside the adrenaline.

Neither of you move for a long moment, still sizing each other up it seemed, at least until you raised your hand. Oliver all over you. You won't be the one to back down; his eyes meet yours and you smile, all satisfied and wolfish as you slowly lick your fingers clean. He's transfixed again, watching the way you lap him up.

No-one's ever looked at you like that, like they're desperate for you to devour every inch of them. But the moment can't last, not outside of your memories at least.

You leave in silence, just as you'd arrived, leaving Oliver alone in the bathtub, watching you like he can't quite be sure it wasn't all a dream. You hope he dreams about this, about your blood on his tongue and Felix's name on his lips.

Except you reach for the door handle only to realise it's cracked ajar. Its closed over, door almost flush and closed, but not quite. Huh. You could have sworn... But you shrug off the thought, slipping back into your room and making sure to shut the door properly behind you.

Pyjama pants and underwear both damp for several reasons, you pull them off and quickly toss them into the laundry hamper. At this moment, you can't bring yourself to bother with anything more than a new pair of underwear before you're crawling into bed beside Felix. Who's on his side.

Huh.

Felix never sleeps on his side because it messes with his shoulders. He's also still, like he's holding his breath. When you curl an arm over him, cool hand resting on his chest, you can feel his racing heartbeat. Finally, his breath comes stuttering out. Pressing yourself up against him, you hum faintly, hand drifting lower, teasingly. You rest your hand low on his belly, between the gorgeous, defined lines of his hips, but refusing beneath his waistband. There comes a faint huff from Felix, but it's indecipherable; he's still on edge, clearly having realised that you'd connected all the dots.

When you speak it's practically a moan, voice low but sharp in his ear as you let your fingers dip lower. What a night it will be to remember, spent keeping your boys happy.

"Fi, you fucking pervert."

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