#is there confirmation that her last name was cross??? no.

[drabbles-mc]

The Depths

Benny Cross x Kathy Cross

Warnings: 18+, canon compliant (aka: Contains Spoilers), angst with a happy-ish ending, hints of benny/johnny if you squint

Word Count: 1k

A/N: went and saw The Bikeriders again. i hope Kathy knows that i love her

It wasn’t until he was back home and the shock wore off. Wasn’t until the sadness and the ache of it all finally started to dull around the edges. It wasn’t until he felt like he could finally take a full breath again that Benny realized how lucky he was.

He’d gone so many years thoroughly convinced that the only thing he really cared about was being able to throw his leg over his bike, to have that denim and patch on his back. He believed it, believed that nothing else really mattered to him. That’s why he never asked anyone for anything—he didn’t believe that he could ever be capable of giving anything back. A person needed a certain layer of depth to them for that, and he didn’t think that the well in his chest went down far enough.

The news that man so casually dropped on him in the middle of some dive bar in Indiana kicked clean through the floorboards in his chest and revealed miles and miles of depth he hadn’t let himself feel in far too long. He thought it all would’ve filled in by then, become overgrown, really left him shallow. That’s how he felt most days, anyhow. Especially after he left Chicago behind. What people saw was exactly what they got—that was all he had to offer.

Johnny’s death reminded him that there was an entire man living underneath all that leather and denim. A man who, underneath the patches, and the grease, and the cigarette smoke, was too stubborn to let people count on him. So stubborn, in fact, that he left his whole life behind without offering anyone a real goodbye.

He couldn’t see it in the moment, the first trace of luck in the loss. It wasn’t until some time had passed and his eyes had finally run dry. When he parked his bike on the street right in front of Kathy’s house, he didn’t feel at all like a lucky man. He felt broken. Lost. But it was the only place he could think of, the only place that had a semblance of home about it. He didn’t even think to knock on the door.

Not everyone would’ve been so lucky as to have that. Not just a place to go, but a woman who would open the door for them. Who would sit on the porch step in the chilly Chicago air after a year of silence and hold them while they cried. Who wouldn’t ask any questions. Who wouldn’t say a damn thing until it was all over with.

He’d been lucky for all of his time with Johnny. But Johnny wasn’t the one whose fingers were running through his hair and down the slope of his neck as his body gave into the wracking sobs that had been rattling the bars in Benny’s chest for the countless miles he’d been riding to get back home. It wasn’t Johnny’s lips pressing tender, comforting kisses to the crown of his head. That wasn’t his hand running up and down Benny’s back, pressure rippling over the patch that landed them all in this mess to begin with. It wasn’t Johnny. It never could’ve been.

Benny collapsed into her. Clung to her for all that he was worth, which in the moment didn’t feel like much. His blunt fingernails dug their way into the threading of her sweater, forehead pressed against her chest so that he could feel her heartbeat. Through the choked breaths he could smell the traces of cigarette smoke and laundry detergent. Everything had changed and yet nothing had. She was still there. She was still holding him. She was still getting him right again. Just like last time. Just like always.

Kathy had waited for years to see the bottom of the well, to see the depths of Benny that existed underneath all that armor. She hadn’t ever found the right thing to say. She’d never figured out how to crack the code. But when she felt the dampness of Benny’s tears soaking through her sweater, she knew that she had more of him in that moment than she’d ever had before. Maybe she had Johnny to thank for that. Maybe she had him to thank for a lot of things, not that she could tell him any of that now.

In those first few days back home, the self-destructive piece of Benny wanted to ask her why she’d let him back in. After everything that he’d done, everything he put her, through, how could she hold him and mean it? He wanted to ask but he couldn’t make himself speak—he was lucky for that too.

The first time he thought about it was when he woke up in the middle of the night. Kathy was curled into his chest the way that she always was when she slept. He felt each soft, warm exhale of her breath against the skin of his chest. He shut his eyes and soaked it in, and that’s when it hit him for the first time, but certainly not the last, that he might’ve been the luckiest one out of all of them.

He hadn’t given it a second thought, turning back up on her steps. He could’ve gone to the bar, could’ve gone to one of the guys, but he didn’t. The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. When the rug got pulled out from underneath him, when his chest caved in on itself into a seemingly endless abyss, she was the only person he thought to go to. And she held him. Without hesitation and without question. All those times he threatened to leave. Taking off in the middle of the night with no goodbye. A year of silence. She’d carried all of that on her shoulders alone and was still strong enough to hold him tight when he came back around.

Now it was his turn, as he wrapped his arms around her. She didn’t wake up, hardly even stirred, but even in her sleep she allowed herself to be pulled into him without a fight. He thought about the warmth of her body pressed against his under the sheets. The same warmth he’d felt sitting out in front of the house when he came home. He pulled in a deep breath—cigarettes and laundry detergent. He let each sensation fill him up, needing all his newfound depth to be good for something.

The Bikeriders Taglist (if you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!): @garbinge

[sillymommy6969]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝕾UBTLE & SECRET PT. 2

Daniela Avanzini x fem!reader

summary: some more moments eyekons have found of their favourite ship. it’s getting harder and harder for dann/n to be subtle and secret…

warnings: none, more fluffy moments

pt. 1

DANI & Y/N FORGETTING THEIR PR TRAINING FOR 14 MINUTES GAY (PART 2)

*Loud technical difficulty transition* Cut to the one year anniversary live, the video titled, “Happy First KATSEYE Day”. Daniela and Y/N were sitting where Sophia and Lara were in that video. As Manon tried to explain her answer to a question Yoonchae asked, the camera seemed much more interested in a certain duo than their centre.

“No, because I know for a fact Lara takes the longest to get ready. Girlie has a hair and fit routine that takes so much longer than an hour,” Manon practically yelled, “No—Sophia, stop! Trust, Lara is the one who takes the longest.”

As they bickered back and forth about who was right, the video zoomed in on Daniela and Y/N. The Latina, in a sheer top and her hair pulled back a bit was sitting with her leg crossed, body leaning towards Y/N, who had a hand caressing the fishnets Daniela was wearing. The older Katseye member didn’t seem to realize they were sitting that close together, her head resting on Daniela’s shoulder.

The video editor cuts to Megan beside Manon, second to last on the couch, making note of the way the redhead eyed the two of them with a dramatic grimace.

[ Megan’s sick of their PDA I know it ]

“This question is about Dani,” Yoonchae read off her card. Manon and Sophia perked up in their seats, ready to dominate the game once again as their youngest made her way through the words on her list. “Which rnb artist has Dani been listening to on repeat lately?”

Manon and Sophia yell their own names, jumping out their seats in attempts to get Yoonchae to call on them first.

Y/N raised a finger, nodding and winking into the camera before sharing a look with Daniela, who was pouting because the older lifted her head off her shoulder. Yoonchae glanced past the two eldest members of the group, seeing a reserved Y/N sitting patiently in her seat. Her name was called.

“Y/N hasn’t spoken yet, Y/N should answer!” Yoonchae said.

[ Yoonchae defender till I die ]

The latter smiled at their maknae, sitting up as she glanced down at Daniela. “I know every single artist Dani has put on loop recently, but I’ll just give ya’ll the top three. It goes Brent Faiyaz, Feid, and then Daniel Caesar.”

Daniela nodded, beaming with pride as she clapped. “Daniel’s tied with Rosalía, but yeah, that sounds right.”

Both of them turned to Yoonchae for confirmation, and after a second of the Korean reading and processing the answer on her card, she nodded with an adorable smile. “Y/N’s right.”

Daniela moved her arm to rest over the top of the couch, sliding it behind Y/N. Y/N’s hand still running smoothly along her thigh. It wasn’t until they had moved onto the next section of their live when Daniela was snacking on some of the treats sitting before them did they switch their position up a bit.

Y/N was still engaged in the game they were currently playing, doing her best to keep Manon’s cursing to a minimum as she helped Lara answer some questions.

Daniela grabbed a couple pieces of candy covered in powdered sugar. She had two in her mouth, the candies poking out against her inner cheek as powdered sugar smeared across her lips.

Y/N turned to see what Daniela was fidgeting about, noticing the girl was entranced by the candy in her hands.

She laughed, pointing at the blonde’s lips before she wiped the powdered sugar off with her thumb. Y/N pressed her finger up against her own lips, sucking the sugar from her hand before licking her lips. Daniela was caught off guard by the woman’s action, dropping a piece of the candy in her hand down into her lap. Both of them looked down, but before the arm Daniela had over Y/N’s shoulder could move, the older grabbed it and put it in her mouth. She easily dusted the younger’s lap, giggling at the way Daniela covered her face with a hand as her cheeks flushed a faint shade of red.

[ Y/N’s that type gf I’m dizzy… ]

*Loud technical difficulty transition* Cut to the move-in video, where the girls were sharing a deep moment of their thoughts and feelings on achieving their dreams. Y/N began tearing up because of Sophia’s speech, tears brimming her eyes and she was sniffling just the slightest.

Y/N was getting increasingly emotional over their leader’s heartfelt monologue on how grateful she was for their little family. Daniela noticed the older getting overwhelmed, so she switched places with Megan to give the woman a hug. Her body shielded Y/N from the cameras in the front as the video cuts to a side camera, where we see Y/N’s hands fixing her face, which was still kept from lenses by Daniela.

The blonde glanced down at Y/N, brushing her hair out of her face as the older wiped the smudged mascara away from her eyes. Daniela hushed quietly, careful not to scratch the woman on accident with her press-ons.

Daniela wrapped her arms around her friend, pressing a quick peck onto the top of her head. Her hands ran up and down Y/N’s back as the other members soothed Sophia, it was truly a moment Dann/n stood out and away from the other bonds in their group. Then, Y/N’s hands could be seen resting on Dani’s hips as she calmed down. When the older was ready, Daniela moved away, taking a seat beside her, still unwilling to leave the woman alone.

[ Dani’s def Y/N’s comfort person ]

*Loud technical difficulty transition* Cut to a clip of the girls in the rehearsal room. Manon was challenging Lara to some dance off as they moved around frantically in the foreground of the video, but if you squinted and looked closer, you could catch something in the background.

As Megan taught Yoonchae and Sophia a specific part of the choreography, and Lara and Manon twerking their way towards the mirror. Y/N was enjoying a cool sip of water in the background. Matching with Lara, she was dressed in just a black bra and grey sweats that flashed the band of the boxers she was wearing. Her chest glistened with sweat, hair messy and disheveled as she scrolled through her phone.

Daniela eyed Y/N out the corner of her eye, feeling her head tune out Manon’s screechy voice. She watched Y/N’s chest heave as she caught her breath, running a hand through her own curls before standing from her cross-legged position on the floor. She jogged over to the older, reading the schedule Y/N had pulled up on her phone over her shoulder.

“Hey, stranger,” Daniela whispered, unable to earn a jump from Y/N as the older turned.

Her eyes widened and her expression brightened. She set down her bottle of water and slipped her phone back into her pocket. “Dani, I just found out about this perfect little nook around the block. There’s a shitload of books and they have a record section with this dainty little café, it’s perfect. I’ve been meaning to check out.”

Daniela chuckled, tucking her hair behind her ear, “Yeah?”

Y/N nodded, her hands resting on her hips. She glanced over at their members making the most of their five minute break. “Yeah, I was just checking the schedule to see when we’d have time to go. I think Yoonchae would really enjoy a nice quiet afternoon out of work and Sophia could use a nice croissant.”

Daniela was just disappointed just the slightest bit. She was hoping Y/N was implying they would leave together, but being the mother type she was, she couldn’t say she was surprised to hear Y/N meant to bring the girls too.

“Sounds perfect,” Daniela said softly, raising a hand to caress Y/N’s shoulder. “Hey, do y’know how to do the hip move?”

In the zoomed out camera shot focused on Manon and Lara, fans could tell Daniela was trying to learn a particular move in their choreography from Y/N. The older’s exposed torso flexed and glistened under the practice room’s fluorescent lights, as the younger ushered for Y/N to help her with the move closer.

[ Really? The main dancer—AKA Mini Shakira—of Katseye asking for help on a dance move? Dani’s not slick ]

*Loud technical difficulty transition* Cut to a clip of Manon on live at home with Y/N again, the roommates were having fun and engaging with fans before their door creaked open.

“Yeah, Y/N loves wearing these mini skirts. We have a matching pair of jean skirts with this buckle around the waist, it’s so cute.” Manon ranted, doing her mascara in the mirror behind the phone. “‘Who’s the stylist of the group?’, it’s most definitely Lara or Y/N. They pull off their styles so well.”

As Y/N was about to answer, the door to their room creaked open. Both their heads turned to eye Daniela, who sauntered into the room in a hoodie.

She approached Y/N, a leg thrusted over her hips before taking a seat on the older’s lap. Y/N cooed, wrapping her arms around Daniela’s waist as the younger hooked hers around the older’s neck. Manon shared a look with Y/N, before turning the camera just the slightest so the pair wouldn’t be in the centre of the screen. You could still see part of Y/N’s face, along with the two members’ bodies being glued together.

[ WHAT. THE. ACTUAL. F*CK. ]

“You okay, Dani?” Y/N asked softly, feeling the blonde nuzzle her nose into the crook of her neck further. “What’s up?”

Daniela just groaned, her grip around Y/N tightening, eyes squeezed shut. She felt the older’s chest vibrate as she hummed. The blonde was so engrossed in having her moment with her band mate, she hadn’t even noticed the camera still streaming their moment to everybody.

“Dani, we’re on live right now. Wanna go to your room?”

Manon cackled at the loud shriek Daniela let out, jumping off Y/N’s lap. The latter just laughed along with Manon at the Latina’s reaction, making sure she hadn’t hit her head when she fell down onto the floor.

“Oh my God, somebody said Dani might as well be Y/N’s shadow ‘cuz she never leaves her side.” Manon burst into absolute hysteria at the comment, leaning back to lie on the floor as she laughed. Y/N chuckled, leaning in to read the comments as well. Daniela was laid still on the floor offscreen, her head in her hands.

user01 move dani it’s my turn

user02 Dk which one of them I want to be rn

user03 ngl sitting in y/n’s lap would fix everything

user04 Dani forgot PR training for a sec

user05 I AM NOT NORMAL ABOUT THIS

“You guys are too much,” Y/N snickered as she skimmed the comments, “‘Y/N’s middle name must be wifi, the way Dani can’t live without her.’ is crazy, guys.”

Daniela finally mustered the courage to peel herself from the floor. Coming onscreen, she was blushing and sat between the two roommates as the comments flood with more teasing phrases about Daniela’s action.

user06 dani’s not even tryna hide it

user07 WHERE ARE MY DANN/N TRUTHERS

user08 Their PR team quaking rn

“Guys, I just needed a hug, okay? I would’ve done that to Manon if she was the one sitting closer to the door,” Daniela tried saving herself, her hands raising to touch her cheeks. They were hot to the touch, burning bright with shyness.

Manon raised an eyebrow, throwing the blonde a ‘really’ expression. “Y’know your big ass—big Pinocchio looking head is lying right now. You once said you would rather lick a public bathroom floor than be seen hugging me.”

“I never said that!” Daniela squeaked, “Manon, stop!”

Y/N rolled her eyes with a smile, leaning in to read the fans’ thoughts as the two argued in the back.

*Loud technical difficulty transition* Cut to a clip of Y/N talking on a solo live, the shot was zoomed in on a handful of necklaces around her neck.

As Y/N ranged on about producing some songs with Lara on their day off, the video editor zoomed in on the necklaces around Y/N’s neck. There were a couple thin chains and then some with charms, but one stood out with a big letter D.

[ Unless Y/N has a partner with the name D outside the group, this is a little sus ]

In another part of that live, there was a light blue friendship bracelet around her wrist. And the fans seemed to point out the familiar looking accessory from a Yoonchae and Daniela live a couple days ago.

“‘Y/N, are you matching bracelets with Dani?’ Oh, this old thing?” Y/N laughed, fondling with it around her wrist. “Dani’s mom got us a make your own bracelet kit when Katseye first moved in together as a housewarming gift. When Dani got sick one weekend and the others were home for the holidays, we watched movies and made bracelets. She made me this blue one and I made her a pink one. I don’t know if she still wears hers, but I don’t really take mine off.”

user01 Oh she def does not

user02 no n/n we saw it the other day!!

user03 It’s the only thing Dani wears on her left arm

user04 COUPLE BRACELETS! COUPLE BRACELETS!

“Oh, is it? Yeah, Dani and I spent that break together. My parents were away on vacation and hers had to reschedule ‘cuz of some stomach bug passing around the family.” Y/N thought back on that Thanksgiving, it was very fun being alone in the big Katseye dorm without the usual chaos. “Anyway. The Katz all have this necklace we got from Kate Spade. It’s this one.”

She picked the necklace out from her other ones, briefly flashing the ‘D’ necklace too.

user05 the d necklace is crazy

user06 Dani’s really staking her claim

user07 I HAVE NO ONE TO TALK TO ABT THIS

The screen suddenly flashes with screenshots from instagram pictures Daniela posted. Under her zip-up, you can see Y/N’s initial on a similar necklace.

[ And thus, Dann/n remains alive and healthy ]

[gibsongirlsundaymorning]

noise complaints (pt 1? maybe)

A/N: I don’t even like do this but you sick sick fucks wouldn’t write the pure filth I loosely requested so here we are!

Summary: You and Rio go out to a party with your old classmates on a night when Agatha is stuck on patrol. The two of you are having fun when something interrupts the celebration…

Warnings: use of “Y/N”, general party stuff idk, voyeurism, being hit on by V*sion, part two would be rough sesbian lex and that is alluded to 🎉

Pairing: Dom!Older!Cop!Agatha x Younger!Sub!Reader x Younger!Brat!Rio

NSFW below MDNI 🔥🔥🔥

This had been the plan for weeks now, ever since you and Rio received a text invite from your mutual college friend inviting you to a small reunion “get-together”.

The description of the event was misleading, as the two of you knew from your college friendship with the girl named Alice, and it took quite a bit of persuasion from the two of you to convince your girlfriend, Agatha, to let you go to what was sure to be a rager.

Since you and Rio had met in high school and were in a sort of FWB relationship for a year in college before meeting Agatha (who turned out to be the missing piece you needed to form a real relationship) she had a tendency to get jealous- Especially when the two of you hung out with your other friends from the years before you knew the older woman.

What she didn’t know was that you two were obsessed with her from the moment you all met at your forensics mixer where she was giving a presentation on her work with the police force in the town you and Rio grew up in, and that you still worshipped her after all this time.

She eventually caved, giving you and Rio the go ahead to attend the party when she realized she would be stuck with patrol duty on that night anyway. So now, you and the younger of your girlfriends stood back-to-front in front of the full length mirror in your bedroom, admiring one another.

Rio’s arms snake around your waist, her lips ghosting the shell of your ear as she whispers, “You look so.. so good, Y/N. I’m not sure Agatha will let us out the door with you looking like this.” She smirks as she slips that last part in and ducks down to kiss down the side of your neck to your shoulder, where she eventually rests her chin. A faint red paints your face as you meet her eyes in the mirror and admire her own outfit.

She wears your favorite black jeans that were perfectly tight around her hips and ass, but flowed out to a baggy straight cut towards the bottom and a loose, barely-buttoned, sheer black button-up shirt. It was a simple look, but one that drove you crazy when she wore it, especially now with her hair down, air-dried and wavy.

In front of her, you wore and equally simple and captivating tight black dress with Agatha’s black leather jacket and matching high-heeled boots. You look back to meet Rio in a short but passionate kiss, pulling away only when you felt your older girlfriend’s presence, watching from the door frame where she leant with her chin tilted and arms crossed across her chest.

“So I can’t leave the two of you alone for three minutes before you forget your rules with each other… How am I supposed to trust you two sluts without me at this party for hours?” Agatha speaks through her teeth before taking quick strides towards you two. She sits on the edge of the bed just a foot away from where you stand now, jaw dropped and still pressed against Rio.

“Go ahead, keep going. Let me know what kind of show you plan to put on for those classmates of yours.” It has to be a trap. If you don’t press yourself back against your girlfriend, you’d be disobeying her, but if you do, you’d be confirming her accusations in some sick way.

Instead, Rio speaks up. “We don’t want to put on a show for anyone but you, Agatha, swear. You’re the only one who can see us like this.”

You can see the wheels turning in Agatha’s mind as she stares at Rio for a second longer before standing back up. She grabs the back of your neck and pulls you into a bruising kiss while her free hand finds Rio’s ass. The latter whines at the combination of the sight of her girlfriends kissing so close to her and the possessive grip Agatha assumes on her curves.

Agatha pulls away from you while dragging your bottom lip away with her teeth, just enough to draw the smallest drops of blood to taste through the night and remember her by. “You wanna speak up, doll?”

Rio’s eyes are clouded with lust as her pointer and middle fingers fiddle with her bottom lip as she shakes her head. A firm grip wraps around her wrist and pulls the fingers away, only to be quickly replaced with those of your older girlfriend. “Open.” The single-worded command barely gets a second to hang in the air before Rio invites the pair of digits into her mouth, yearning for the way Agatha always slightly tipped her head back and tightened her jaw as she took in the overwhelming act of submission from the (eight months) older of her two young girlfriends.

Once she’s decided it’s enough, she slides her fingers out and walks away from the two of you. Once she reaches the door frame, she speaks. “Alright. You two can still go. But if I find out that just one of those whores looks at you guys with any kind of intentions or ideas… You’ll wish you never asked to leave this room. Especially dressed like that.” Both you and Rio know better than to question how she would find out about something like that.

“Have a good shift, hon, text us if you need us to bring anything home.” Is all you manage to squeak out before she slips out of the doorway with a horrifying silence.

You and Rio finish getting ready in a shared silence, only speaking again when you get in the car and play your car-eoke playlist, and even then you’re just screaming to what’s essentially a Soulja Boy highlight reel.

Your previous confrontation with Agatha had been long forgotten once you and Rio grabbed a beer each and joined Alice in the family room, littered with an equal mix of creepy has-been men who peaked when you knew them in highschool and the girls whose company you’d actually enjoyed between the long nights you spent with Rio, both slumped over your textbooks since Rio always seemed to “displace” hers.

You were so caught up in a conversation about the shoddy collection of local bookshops with Alice that you hadn’t noticed Rio signaling you to look towards the pair of boys stumbling towards you two. You were deep in such a tipsy passionate rant about the only quality vintage bookstore in Westview that you didn’t even notice the boys until one of them grabbed your shoulder, the other mirroring his brother’s actions on your girlfriend, spinning you and Rio so that you were facing them.

Overcome with disgust, you brush the slightly taller of the two’s hand off of your shoulder, then shoving the other’s off of Rio’s and grabbing her wrist.

“Woah, calm down! You ladies are even feistier than I remember from senior year.” Now you remembered their names. Vision and a boy you only knew by his lame ass basketball nickname, Wonderman. The pair’s cockiness had always made you despise them, though it was clear they didn’t catch that vibe from the way they insisted on teasing and talking to you every science class that you had together. Obviously they hadn’t learned that, even now.

“Did your mom raise you with like, any manners at all? Don’t fucking touch her. Don’t touch ME.” Rio spat, turning to lead you away and into the kitchen by your grip on her wrist when Vision caught your other wrist.

“Yo, I think we got off on the wrong foot. I’m Vision, and you can call my brother here W,” the one gripping your wrist says, followed by the other saying, “We couldn’t help but notice you ladies from across the room… And judging by your fits, you two were seeking some attention from some guys like us.” You seriously couldn’t believe anything they were saying was real, it seemed to be straight out of a Chat-GPT generated high school movie script.

Neither you nor Rio had a chance to respond before the room was flooded with red and blue lights from through the windows, disrupting the energy and silencing everyone- that was until Alice scrambled on top of her coffee table and yelled, “Noise complaint! Cops! Get the fuck out!”

You and Rio, along with everyone else, were quick to file out. Unfortunately for the two of you, the entire men’s basketball team seemed to be in attendance and pushed you further into the house during your attempted escape, meaning you were the last two out.

However, you seemed to finally be in the clear as you found footing on the beer-soiled grass… and so did the sweaty boys from before. They grasped your shoulders once more, saying they were “So glad we could find you ladies and make sure you’re safe” since you “Need a few strong men to help you out of such a scary situation.” Just then, a booming, staticky voice is emitted and echos all around the four of you.

“Boys, take your hands off of those ladies or so help me God, I will throw you in the back of this car and you won’t see anything but the brick walls of a county cell for weeks.” The voice called out, sending chills through all four of your spines. The boys because they weren’t nearly as brave as they liked to present themselves as, and you and Rio because you knew who was behind the speaker system. Agatha.

The boys split, and you and Rio are frozen as Agatha slowly approaches, hands in her pockets, her uniform clinging to her deliciously.

Once she’s close enough to feel the fear radiating off of her girlfriends, she speaks so lowly you can hear the rasp in her throat.

“So let me get this right, girls. I, against my better judgement, let you whores go to this party because you begged me so, so prettily for weeks, even after that little stunt I walked in on a few hours ago. I’m out patrolling for all of an hour when I go to investigate a noise complaint and see you allowing two sleezebags to touch what’s mine? Are you out of your fucking minds?”

You’re now trembling with fear at the intensity of her voice, horrified of what’s coming for you. Rio is buzzing with excitement at the vast amount of possibilities for the night ahead of you all. Agatha, well-tuned to each of your tells, reads this perfectly.

Should I do a part two or am I the only person that wants any of this LMK lol bye

[frudoo]

A non Zombie apocalypse 141 poly

They find another survivor looking for supplies and decide to make her their wife.

I went a lil crazy on this one ngl

Warnings: Non-con/dub-con but nothing sexual. Fem!Reader.

It was that colossal motherfucker you saw first—the one you almost wasted an arrow on because of that creepy skull mask he wore. The big bastard was raiding your shelter, a little storage room in what used to be a department store. Believe it or not, the mannequins you placed outside of your hideout were enough to deter the zombies away, so you had a pretty good thing going. That was before this dumb brute decided to ruin all your hard work and steal your canned goods.

     Your plan was to shoo him away and tell him to piss off, but he wasn’t having it. No, instead, he made you carry your own supplies back to his shelter, where there were three other men to feed. Fuck, you had enough food to last yourself about three months, but now, with these giant men who no doubt have massive appetites? You’re lucky if it’ll last a week. 

     You’re sitting on a raggedy couch between the pretty man with the ball cap and another with a stupid overgrown mohawk now, arms crossed with a foul look on your face. Across from you sits the fucker with the skull mask, and beside him in an ancient recliner is a bearded man wearing a weird hat. Every now and then you let out an annoyed huff, earning yourself a pointed stare from each of them.

     “Are ye gonna eat summat, or jus’ pout like a wee baby?” Mohawk Man asks you through a mouthful of lukewarm spaghetti hoops. 

     You flip him off without even looking at him, earning a few snickers from the other men. If you weren’t so pissed off at all of them, you might have allowed yourself a little smirk. In fact, you feel the beginning of one curling at the corner of your mouth, until Ball Cap™ pulls you into his lap and traps you there with his strong arms. You yelp and try to shimmy out of his grasp to no avail. You go to bite him, but the second your mouth opens, a spoonful of beans gets plopped inside.

     “Swallow,” Skull Guy commands, covering your mouth with one wide palm in case you decide to try and spit it out.

     You glare at him the entire time, but still obey his explicit order because you truly are hungry. You give up on trying to escape the pretty man’s grasp, letting your body go limp. It’s probably wise to save your energy, anyway.

     “Good bird,” he praises mockingly. “Now, since you’re through bein’ a brat, I’ll introduce everyone. 

     “M’Simon. Tha’ there,” he points at the one with the mutton chops, “is John, or Cap’n, dependin’ on his mood. Beside you’s Johnny, but we call him Soap. The one you’re sittin’ on is Kyle. We call him Gaz when he’s bein’ a dick, though.” 

     You nod like you’re paying attention, using his distraction as an opportunity to steal the can of beans from his hand. It’s a weird group, for sure, but aside from the fact that they’re thieving bastards, it might be nice to have more humans to help protect you from the hoards of the undead. It’s a step up from mannequins, anyway. Perhaps it also helps that they’re all insanely attractive.

     “Wha’ aboot ye, hen? Go’ a name?” Mohawk Man—or, Johnny, apparently—asks with a cheeky grin. 

     Before you get the chance to tell him your name, the one with the mutton chops, John, interrupts you. 

     “No matter, is it? We’ll call her our wife soon enough.”

     You nearly drop the can of beans when you process the words that just came out of his mouth, choking on the bite you just took. Kyle pats your back until your little coughing fit ceases, and Simon wipes the sticky residue from your mouth with the sleeve of his hoodie. None of them, you observe, are as baffled by John’s statement as you are. It makes a weird feeling churn in your gut.

     “A-all… all of you?” You stammer nervously, then start again with a lilt of confusion in your voice. “Wife?!”

     “Yes, dove, all of us,” Kyle confirms, confiscating the can of beans from you and setting it on the ground. 

     “Aw, don’t look so scared, sweetheart,” John stands from his place in the old recliner, stepping in front of you and lifting your head up to look at him with his pointer finger hooked beneath your chin.

     “I take good care o’my men. We’ll take good care o’you, too.”

[msfantasy-anime]

My Little Brothers Wife

Monkey D. Luffy x Wife!Reader x Platonic!Sabo

Summary: a requested short story on Koala delivering the news of Y/n’s bounty to Sabo.

Part IV

Koala’s head leans back, letting the cool breeze blow out the strands of hair from her face. A moment of peace shattered when a rolled up news paper drops from a sky delivery, right into Koala’s lap, spraying the pages everywhere.

“Freakin birds I swear-“ Koala’s quite cursing halts seeing a wanted poster Monkey. Y/n, 100,000,000 berries, your full photo on display for all its glory. “WHAT?! WHAT?! WHAT?! WHAT?!” She screams to her self, haphazardly strewing the news articles until she locates the bounty explanation.

Monkey. Y/n, wanted dead or alive for a 100,000,000 berries after brutally assaulting a Marine Officer for implying husband, Monkey D. Luffy, of negative behaviour. Y/n’s unprovoked attack and straw hat pirate association has earned her a large bounty for a new comer. It is yet to be confirmed if Y/n is part of the straw hat crew or acts independently.

Koala bolted throughout the hideout with the wanted poster in hand to the only man with an explanation. “SABO!” Koala yells, shoving the wanted poster so close to Sabo’s face, all he could manage to see was a big ‘W’. “Look at this! Can you believe this? I thought we were friends and she didn’t even bother inviting me to the wedding! Did you know she got married?! Why wouldn’t she tell me?!” Koala pouted.

“Calm down a second would’ya. I can’t even see what you’re talking about.” Pulling the poster from Koala’s hand, she retreats with her arms crossed over her chest, a grumpy expression holding stead.

Monkey. Y/n.

A small smirk breaks across his lips. It’s good to see your still alive and well, and wrecking havoc like you swear you wouldn’t when you last met.

Figures.

“Well Koala, what do you want me to say? I even officiated their marriage.” He says with a taunting smile, making Koala gasp in betrayal. “Relax, those two have been married for 12 years now.”

“12 years?! But they’re only-wait… 12 minus… hey, that doesn’t make any sense! You’re saying they got ‘married’ when they were only kids? So it’s not real.”

“No. It’s real.” Sabo says smiling softly once again as he looks at the wanted bounty. “That’s my little brothers wife.”

“So, you’ve got a bounty now.” Sabo says into the transponder snail.

“I got a what?!” You yell back into the snail, the volume of your exclamation causes the sound waves to crackle.

“It reads Monkey. Y/n wanted dead or alive for 100 million berries.” Sabo says which only makes you scoff.

“I didn’t even do anything! How did I get that large of a bounty?!”

“It says you assaulted a marine officer.”

“……he had it coming! No one talks trash about Luffy. Man, this is so embarrassing, now the world thinks I’m married to that loveable doofus.”

“At least you finally have a family name right?“ The transponder line turns silent. Sabo knows you well enough that your smiling. But what he wasn’t expecting to hear what you admitted next.

“Yeah … it is actually. Monkey is a cool last name…and now it’s mine.”

“Seems like Luffy finally worn you down huh? So, will you join his crew?”

“I decided that-“ a loud explosion sounds off in the background. “THE SHIP IS UNDER ATTACK! Ugh! I gotta go Sabo, I’ll talk to you later.”

[runningupthatvecna]

get the peach(es)

bestfriend!eddie munson x reader

it's the day after chrissy got vecna'd and you and the gang decide to check up on eddie at rick's. he's still in so much distress that you can't help but selflessly stay with your best friend (who you've been harboring a crush on for quite some time) and keep him company. 6k words, not proofread.

cw: the good old friends to lovers trope, eddie is an anxious bean who just needs to be held (by you, ideally), mutual (and not so secret at all) pining, i wrote this with fem!reader in mind (she/her pronouns) but can also be read as gn i guess, fluff, hurt/comfort (for eddie), pet names, mentions of chrissy's death, there shall be kisses and a lot of softness. nothing too explicit but minors are still advised to LEAVE

a/n: totally not self indulgent, that scene of him being so terrified in 4x02 ripped me to shreds so this is my fix-it attempt, trying to still my need to hold him and scratch his head. disclaimer: this piece of writing is based on the ending of that episode, meaning all credits for the setting go to the respective writers. sources to the header images here, here and here. lovely divider by saradika. ok thank you so much for reading byeeee love y'all <3

–––––

The overwhelming need to befriend the satanic metalhead found you at that party at the Wheeler house. You had almost said no to Nancy when she invited you, knowing damn well how the night would end. Steve passed out with a girl on his lap, Robin silently pining after Vickie from some corner of the room while clinging onto the red plastic cup in her hand, Jonathan getting higher than a kite with his old school mates, the younger kids asking you every five minutes if you could give them a ride since you usually were the one staying sober.

Additionally this time, there would be Eddie Munson. This familiar stranger Dustin, Mike and Lucas had met and somehow befriended over the last months, due to them joining his DnD club. "He might come off as a bit intimidating ... but I promise he's super chill and easy going!", Mike had tried to convince his sister, poking the tip of her shoulder repeatedly with a bunch of pleases during lunch break in the editing room of the school's newspaper. Until she rolled her eyes theatrically and agreed to let the ambiguous stranger, which the whole town collectively perceived as not really fitting in (and who you both certainly knew under the not so chill reputation he carried around), attend the celebratory events at Casa Wheeler. Occasion: Karen, Ted and their youngest leaving the house for more than one day, off on vacation.

You'd always kinda stayed out of his ways, used to observe his antics back at school with a silent laugh and this .. intrigue poking at your guts. To you he always stood out, and if anyone asked you'd be hesitant to admit it, but his willingness to go against the flow and not conform to the acceptable standards set by society was honestly impressive. And besides, surely this whole mysterious drug dealer rockstar image must just be a fassade and deep down he's just a dork, right?

His eyes follow you through the living room, an echo of your name crossing his mind repeatedly after having pulled Dustin into a corner for a brief interrogation. He finds it endearing how quickly and almost bashfully you look away every time your curious gaze meets his. As you redirect your focus to the conversation you're becoming engaged in, there's a soft smile creeping onto your lips. Little did he know it would soon start to haunt him in his dreams at night.

"Anything specific you're looking for?"

God, his voice. The close proximity invites your nose to inhale a mix of fresh cigarette smoke, bergamot and sandalwood, allowing you to sense what can only be him standing behind you as you skim through the cabinets of the Wheeler kitchen. You turn your head for your eyes to confirm your assumption and what they find is the deepest brown of round baby cow eyes they've ever met, up so much closer now. The paring of his gaze and plush smile somehow manages to dissolve every little prejudice you've been involuntarily harboring about him. Eddie Munson, the town's freak. Prime reason for the existence of the satanic panic. Drugs. And then you realise that you should probably do the polite thing and give him an answer. "Yeah uh, I was just trying to find the peach syrup", holding his gaze with a small lopsided smile, lost in its warmth which you wouldn't have dared to expect from it, before facing away from him again. He snorts a little, "peach syrup?", pauses to bring a thumb to his upper lip, lightly scratching the skin above as if to wipe something away, before he removes it again and the dimples appear around the corners of his mouth, "that is oddly specific." His response spreads a smile over your face, and the next thing he says widens it, "looks like you have taste though."

You move one step to the side, about to investigate the insides of the next cabinet, the kitchen itself almost empty of people with only three others chatting away in the corner across the island. He follows, undoubtedly trying to stay close, and the heat from the fire he just ignited somewhere inside of you rises to your cheeks. "Thanks, I really like peaches. Especially in my drinks. It adds a little ... kick to my sobriety", you explain, Eddie now quirks an amused eyebrow paired with a lopsided smile at you, and as you get to the last cabinet it dawns on you (and also Eddie) that this household severely lacks peach syrup. An atrocity. Thanks Ted.

After he helped you rummage through the entirety of the kitchen without success but under a lot of small talk, the metalhead vanishes from the function for an hour or so. At least that's what your brain concludes when your vision fails to spot him among the people who are in attendance. Maybe he's selling out of Nancy's bedroom. Maybe he's puking up his insides in the bathroom because he had too much of that weird beer he's been downing all night. Maybe he's banging some random girl in the bathroom upstairs. Or summoning a demon. Or both. At the same time. You once again try focusing your attention back to the conversation you are involved in. Munson already feels so dear to you that the lack of his presence is starting to form an ache in your heart. It's tugging on those strings with how much you already want him near you. Yeah. You're gonna be in trouble with this one.

And then he stumbles into the room from the direction of the front door, an event you're totally unable (and unwilling) to miss. He doesn't look like he just puked, nor sold a whole lot of the stash since you notice it still bulging out the left ass pocket of his black jeans. Instead, as he pushes past the small groups of people socialising – and towards you – while you notice a red net of round fruits dangling from his right hand, and you start to think that his disheveled hair and that rosy tint on his cheeks might actually not be from shagging either. He meets your gaze again as he approaches you with a grin and your heart dares to swell at his attentive gesture (you think you might as well pass away on the spot).

"Have some, peach."

It's not syrup, but you'll take them anyway. And with your next drink, you swallow down not only that peachy sweetness on your tongue, but also whatever this tingly feeling in your chest is.

"Chchhrhch.."

Pause.

"Hey, uh– chrhchhr.."

Silence in your bedroom, the only thing illuminating the space is the moonlight softly falling through the window.

"Chrch– a-are you there?"

You stirr awake from dozing off in your bed, trying to piece together the information your senses are giving you.

Eyes gone dry, you have to blink a few times. Figure out which year it is and so on.

Confusion lies between the static crackle for a moment. That nap after your shift at the diner was necessary. God, you need to fucking quit.

"No I'm sure she'll pick right up, just– hey pleeease b-be awake, goddamn it!–"

Is it already past midnight?

You don't know and you can't tell, the clock on your nightstand still broken. What you do know though is that the familiar voice belongs to your friend Dustin and it's desperately trying to get ahold of you.

They must have found him.

"Dustin? I copy, where are you? What's going on?", you finally grab the device from the nightstand, fully awake and aware of your surroundings now.

You need to know. If he's okay.

There's that all too familiar instant tingle in your chest again, an ache that made itself familiar to you for the first time when he was introduced to you at the one and only Wheeler party several months ago. The dungeon master of Hawkins High's Hellfire club, the lead guitarist of Corroded Coffin and a super chill and easy going guy, to put it in Mike Wheeler's words.

What you didn't expect back then was your heart starting to develop that feeling, that tingle you'd always get to feel when you were in his presence, or like now, when his name is threatening to spill from your friend's lips on the other side of the connection at any moment.

"Aha! See? I told you she'd respond in no time."

You can practically feel Dustin's shit eating grin through the frequency, basking in being correct over Steve Harrington once again. It never gets old between these two.

"Oh my god", Steve's muffled voice is what you can make out vaguely from the off, he's probably palming his face.

"Dustin!", your voice disappears into the device, and your impatience grows with every passing second, hoping he gets the hint.

There's the sound of a door falling shut, leaves rustling under shoes, he must be outside now.

"Alright, okay yeah, so we found him at Rick's and he's really upset and he's been asking for you. I know it's late but can you meet us out here? And maybe, uh, stay with him?"

It's not even worth questioning. You're already wearing shoes. Your biggest hoodie in tow, you stumble into your kitchen with the intention to raid your own snack drawer. Pulling out Eddie's favourite, which you of course had stocked up on ever since hanging out with him at your place had become more of a weekly routine for the both of you.

Ten minutes, you told him. You'd be there in ten.

The drive feels like forever. The longest ten minutes of your life, you think.

You know the route like the back of your hand, having driven along the gravelly road leading from the last intersection before Hawkins' border to the outer world, to the serene woods surrounding Lover's Lake countless times. Eddie would take you here ever so often, for picnics, an occasional smoke after picking up a new delivery from Rick's, cloud or star gazing, listening to Metallica and Tears for Fears on Wayne's old walkman.

The gravel crunches underneath your white reeboks as they land on the ground. You close the door to your car as quietly as possible after you've taken out the bag and your hoodie.

Dustin and Steve are stood outside the boathouse, waving like madmen in the darkness once you come into their periphery.

The younger boy hugs you tightly.

"So glad you could make it", he gets out, the relief palpable through his voice as well as the grip he holds you in for a brief moment.

You look at them both after Steve presses you against him cordially, and breathe out through your nose, making your nostrils flare.

Dustin cracks open the case to you as he starts to ramble about the state in which they found your best friend, "well first he attacked Steve with a broken bottle, we had to put in great effort to convince him that we'd be on his side, and we came to the conclusion that he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, basically."

What you want right now goes without saying. Everyone here knows how close you and Eddie are. As friends, of course. No one would think anything different.

Without wasting another second, the boys lead you inside where Max and Robin are knelt on the wooden floor. Heads turning towards the entrance of the room where you're now standing.

The sight of what's offered to your eyes, sitting opposite of them, breaks your heart.

You can see that he's slightly shivering, eyes glassy in the dim lit room. A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips though once his brain grasps your presence, and he can't help anymore but let the water fall once his eyes lock with yours.

The pain that is swimming in those two deep warm brown oceans hits you like a dagger to the chest. Over the months of being friends with him you'd seen him various different states, none of them comparable to this.

"Peach", his shaky voice announces your arrival and the sound of your nickname spilling from his lips cracks through your bones. The bag that's slung around your shoulder drops onto the wood with a dull thud.

Wobbly legs carry him towards you with a gentle shove past Robin and Max. You're once again reminded of your best friend's sheer physical strength as he wraps his arms around you, instantly burying his face into the crook of your neck.

One arm of your own sneaks around his torso, pressing him against you as tightly as your own strength allows you, while your other hand comes up to bury itself underneath the mane and to end up scratching soothingly over the scalp above the nape of his neck.

Eddie lets out a muffled sob, sniffling into the collar of the sweatshirt you threw on in a haste. He doesn't really want anyone to see him like this, certainly not Steve Harrington, so he clutches onto you so tightly that he thinks you might just feel his heavy heart beating anxiously against your chest.

And you do. How could you not with the amount of world he means to you? Like an automatism your other hand rubs slow circles over his back. Comforting him in the best way you could. Not a conscious decision you make.

"Okay so, m'not meaning to ruin the party, in fact I'd love to stay for another round of doom talk, but I really should get home soon, guys", Robin scratches the back of her head after she gets up from her huddled position next to the wooden crate Eddie had been sitting on. Max joins in and agrees, mumbling something about having to move her mom from being passed out on the couch again into her bed.

"Yeah me too, actually. My dad's gonna be fucking pissed. We'll see you tomorrow, yeah?", Steve's voice echoes through the room and you can tell he's already shoved Dustin back outside, itching to drive the kid home.

As Eddie processes having to stay in hiding, added the possibility of everyone leaving without him, his grip on you tightens even more.

"It's okay, Eds", you speak softly, head slightly tilted so your cheek rests on the dark frizzy mop you could call his hair. The skin on his neck and scalp so warm underneath your fingertips as you keep scratching it, emphasizing your presence, "I'll stay."

A soft muffled whimper is what you get as a response, and the way he lets you see him in this state melts your insides to a puddle.

You just need him to be okay.

They wave their goodbyes behind your back, accompanied by mumbles of "see you in the morning", and you can't even bring yourself to turn your head around, fully focused on making the young man in your arms less terrified of the world. A world he was sure was now going to come for him with all its force – in deep conviction of him being responsible for Chrissy's misfortunate end.

The door falls shut and Eddie muffles a quiet thank you into the fabric of your sweatshirt. The skin on your neck is damp with his tears, wet eyelashes tickling every time he blinks.

"It's okay, Eds", you softly keep repeating your words to him while continuously rubbing over the denim of his signature Dio vest in a slow motion, when he feels the urgency to claim the truth into the collar of your sweater about what has happened, "I– I didn't do it, I swear."

As if you would need any convincing.

"Oh no of course you didn't, I know that", you're looking for a way to ease the distress this entire situation is causing him, his quivering voice adding to your desire to soothe him to inner peace, "can I make a suggestion?"

Eddie nods with another sniffle against your collarbone, the round wet tip of his nose brushing against the column of your throat lightly. To his ears, your voice sounds like silk right about now.

"How about we head over to the main house and get ourselves a little more comfortable? Since we're gonna be here for a little longer? My god you probably haven't slept or eaten at all, have you?"

You can feel him nod his head again with a hum this time, and you start to think that the tears might not just be pouring because he just witnessed someone suffer a gruesome death right in front of him, but also due to physical exhaustion.

It makes your heart ache even more, that tingle still present, even more so now. It hurts to see your best friend hurt.

He just needs to be okay. And in that heart of yours there's that little spark of hope that leads you to believe you could be the one helping him with that.

You'd really want that. Be all his to find comfort in, to hold close, to kiss stupid

Stop.

A sigh escapes your lungs at the thought. That tingle, that longing, it's selfish. It familiarly pools in your belly and slowly drips downwards. You push your brain aside. This is about soothing your best friend now.

"C'mon then", you utter softly, encouraging him with your hand to lift his head from where it leans against your shoulder.

For your heart it's almost too much to look at, the hurt still swimming in the glassy big brown irises, his waterline red and puffy. The soft smile returning to his lips causes the wet apples of his cheeks to push up slightly, reflecting the dim light coming from the one torch Robin left you, placed on one of the crates.

He really hadn't been able to close an eye for a single second since he he'd gotten up for school the day prior.

You smile back at him almost bashfully as you slowly create space between your bodies.

Eddie is grateful that it's you who grabs his ringed hand next.

He squeezes yours, hoping to get the message of this meaning something to him across.

And he closely trails behind you as you lead the way.

The house feels empty, like no one's really been here in months. You'd never been inside. The few times you'd accompanied Eddie grabbing stash you'd stayed in his van, waiting. But as far as you now can make out in the darkness, there's a couch with knitted blankets, a little TV with a whole stack of VHS almost rising as high as the screen itself, spilled and spluttered empty cans and papers and wrappings littered all around. Maybe this is why he never let you come inside with him. Keeping you out of this definitely not sterile mess. Along with keeping you out of the business.

In the middle of the living room, you let go of his hand and shuffle one step away from him. He's inside now. Safe. Job done. Doesn't need physical contact. You shouldn't, he's your friend. You feel like something between you would break if you'd go there.

Eddie thinks otherwise, regarding close proximity at least. He promptly follows you into what you believe to be the kitchen where you hope you might find a tea bag or two. He comes up behind you and encases you in his arms as you rummage through the cabinets (feels familiar, hm?), not at all ready to say goodbye to the warmth of your body pressed against his own just yet.

You giggle at the silliness of him putting weight on you just to make it harder for you to reach into the cabinets. It's endearing. And very Eddie.

Twenty minutes later and there's two mugs – cleaned to your best ability – with steaming hot liquid on the sixties wooden coffee table. Next to them a plate filled with the almost equally hot insides of a ravioli in tomato sauce can. Thank Rick for a still functioning microwave.

You drape the knitted blankets over both you and Eddie as you settle into the cushions. The only light existent coming from two lit candles on said coffee table. It wouldn't be too wise setting up the torch you think.

The side of Eddie's face glows in the orange yellow, his wide brown bambi eyes dried after the first grand storm, and there's this tug on the corner of his pink plush lips again. He exchanged his leather jacket for the freshly washed hoodie for comfort and a small part of you hopes he doesn't spill his dinner onto any of it.

You lean back into the backrest of the worn out couch and watch as he eats, a domestic thing you've done a thousand times already, yet you still find comfort in knowing that he's nourishing himself.

Or well, in this case, inhaling the raviolis.

"Thank you Peach", he moves to put the empty plate back on the coffee table and it makes the spoon chink and glide along the edge, "I really needed this."

His voice is a little hoarse, probably from the emotions of the hours behind him. Maybe he has indeed calmed down a little. His hand moves down to your thigh, squeezing.

You give him the most empathetic smile you can bring yourself to display, painfully aware of the blaze that is transpiring through your leggings and seeping into your bones, "it's no big deal, really. I mean it is– uh, being there for you, is."

And he can't bring himself to look up at you. Instead, he stares at the empty plate on that coffee table in front of him.

"And to me as well. It really helps that you're here."

He doesn't bother moving the calloused warmth of his hand from the soft warmth of your thigh. It lights your entire nervous system on fire. In a good way.

And that's when you begin to wonder if everything that has just happened and is still happening right now changes anything.

"I'm so glad it does", is all you're able to get out.

Eddie decides that it's time to lean into your side and wrap his arms around your torso once again, drop his head back to its favourite place with a soft content little hum.

He just needs physical comfort. Of course. Just that. Nothing more, nothing else.

The words are redundant but your mouth articulates them anyway, "try to get some sleep, yeah?"

His back already lifts and falls evenly. You place your hand on the back of his head that rests in the crook of your neck again, scratching through the curls lightly, searching to help him shut off even deeper.

–––––

The candles have gone out by the time your eyelids slowly open. It takes you a moment to recall the location you fell asleep in, and you hope that the nightly darkness the whole room is now filled with hasn't invited any stranger to take advantage of your unconsciousness.

There's a warm hand holding your face, the pad of a thumb tracing over the apple of your cheek softly. It makes its way from the bridge of your nose to the outer corner of your eye, and back. And forth. And back. And forth.

You must have moved to lie down on your back in your sleep, with Eddie's weight still on your body, legs entangled. It's not the first time you've slept like this, there had been movie nights that had ended similarly.

His hand caressing your cheek though, yeah that is new. There's something unspoken in the air this time around. Your stomach is doing flip flops when you realise that he is propped up on his elbow, just .. looking at you. With eyes that don't require light to hint at whatever it is he is trying to say, or maybe not trying at all.

"Eds, what are you doing?", you ask almost in a whisper followed by a lopsided smile, expecting an unserious answer, because he always tends to make a joke whenever he tries to avoid conversing about emotions regarding his heart.

His thumb stops its acrobatics on your cheek, comes to a halt.

"I'm–", he takes a deep breath before he continues, "I'm just so grateful it's you that's here right now."

Your hand comes up to cup his. Brush over his rough knuckles with a thumb of your own. Enjoying the warmth that is seeping from his palm into your skin.

"Yeah, I figured you were gonna be a little opposed to spending the night with Harrington", you laugh, an attempt to turn your nerves into humour.

Eddie snorts a little, "yeah right, it's almost like you know me", he grins and pushes himself even closer to your face than he already is. It doesn't necessarily help in extinguishing the fire that's consuming you whole at this point.

"It's almost like we're best friends and I know what you think of him because every time Dustin or literally anyone else mentions his name around you, you're not necessarily secretive about it."

"Hey, my own worldview is not my fault, it's just– ... he just kinda seems like a douche of the highest order."

"He's quite alright, Eds. Try giving him a chance, I think he'd look great as Coffin's tambourinist."

He snorts again and you feel his breath on the column of your neck next when he dips his head down, nose pressing against the soft skin, his small giggle being swallowed by the collar of your sweatshirt.

Your favourite sound. Ever. Followed by the relieved moan Eddie lets out at the way your other hand is softly rubbing over his shoulder blade. The vibration against your neck makes you twitch as much as being pinned into the couch cushions by his body allows you.

It's soothing as much for you as it is for him.

When he lifts his head, the soft gaze he eyes you with is enough to let the goosebumps erupt. Even in the darkness of the room you can still make out those round buttons that could melt the entire north pole.

"Thank you, Peach, really. I'd be goin' mental right now and probably tryin' to counter that by smoking an equally mental amount of the stash I've been hiding here."

Your heart aches.

"I'm just glad I can be that kind of comfort to you, Eds. You don't have to go through whatever the fuck this is alone."

"I know I'm never gonna be alone as long as you are there."

You almost cry yourself now, his words making your hand travel from his own to his cheek, almost passing out from the way his eyes bore into your own once again.

Eddie isn't sure what it is that is making him feel lightheaded right now. The whole rollercoaster of events of the past hours. Or your words of affirmation. Or mayhaps it is your cute soft hand with that little ring on your thumb which is gently swiping over his damp skin.

That cute soft hand he'd been imagining countless times at night, silently yearning for your eyes to look at him differently, to finally see him in a different light the next time you'd hang out.

Probably a combination of just everything.

You reciprocate his soft half-lidded gaze, hand moving from his cheek to tuck some of his hair behind his left ear, revealing that delicate silver hoop earring you'd gifted to him for his birthday, after having talked your ear off about getting his ear pierced for literal months.

He'd insisted you join him for the appointment, "another metal moment for the books", as Eddie had called it, the need to have his hand held during the stab comically urgent in the way his voice sounded when he called you that day. And in the pace in which he picked you up.

"I'm here no matter what", you respond to his sentiment, that hand that brushed his hair away resting on the side of his neck while leaning the weight of your head into his palm that is still attached to your cheek.

Eddie's confidence reaches a new all time high with the admission of your unconditional support being stirred into the cocktail of hormones and emotions that's been circulating in his bloodstream for a generous amount of time now.

Because then he goes on by saying impossible things.

Impossible things with a slightly less platonic undertone.

"You're so fucking sweet, has anyone ever told you?"

You smile as you shake your head, heat rising to your cheeks once again and you're sure he won't be able to see just how flustered he's getting you (joke's on you he does).

You're also sure he's out of his mind for saying that. Now.

"A shame, honestly. You should scold your best friend for not telling you sooner. Tell him what a fucking idiot he is."

Eddie earns another giggle from you. Music to his ears. Better than Metallica. Okay maybe not but .. pretty fucking close.

"I'll let him know next time I see him", you say with a grin, playing along with pleasure, and you ask yourself why it is only now that you realise just how fucking close his face is to yours.

There is a moment of silence in which Eddie hesitates articulating whatever is seemingly bugging his mind.

"Do you, uh, still like him?"

If you lifted your head just a little your noses would be touching. A silly and utmost redundant question, and yet, Eddie dreads your answer. If the circumstances were different, less dystopian and tragic, you'd seriously wonder what would spark the doubt in your friendship in him, but considering that everyone else would be going to pour their judgement over him, you understand.

Every word exchanged between the two of you at this hour is soaked in mutual infatuation, something the idiots in both of you are slowly starting to fathom as well.

"Of course I do, he's everything to me."

As you say it, you can't help the grin which reappears reliably each time you finish verbalizing your thoughts. It's contagious, you notice.

"And do you think – just hypothetically of course", it's only then he breaks eye contact to clear his throat, "of course", you interrupt him still smiling and cocking an eyebrow at him, "d'ya think it would be okay for this best friend to, uh, maybe...", Eddie pauses, internally watching the ship containing his confidence set sail slowly and ultimately letting the irrational thoughts win for tonight, "would you let him..."

Eddie generally wasn't someone who lacked confidence. It showed in the way he boisterously wandered the halls of Hawkins High, the way his demeanor never changed, his mask never faltered no matter who was around. Except for you. You who he had always granted a look underneath the impulsive, extroverted surface.

"Eds", you try everything in your power to stay calm even though everything inside of you is screaming right now and you're certain you can feel your pulse in your earlobes.

"Would it be just insane of that best friend to kiss you right now?"

You want to squeal and kick your feet, pull him into your face, pinch your own forearm, pass away, leave the house and never return, and stay right where you are forever, buried underneath your favourite metalhead, the parts where your bodies are touching practically on fire, cosy and content.

Instead, the most fond smile spreads over your lips as you try to contain your internal overwhelm.

It's still dark, the only light source being the full moon outside. Eddie's so hopeful of your reciprocation and even more terrified of ruining his entire life at the same time, those deep doe eyes at this point pretty much resemble the shape of the space rock orbiting earth. Rejection from you, his pretty Peach and the Bonnie to his Clyde, would be unbearable.

"I think so," you almost whisper, the hand that's been rubbing over Eddie's back coming up to lightly trace one of his eyebrows with your index finger because you just can't seem to not touch him in some way, "but you should know that I love his insanity."

Your small giggle is being silenced by a soft and cautious kiss from Eddie Munson. Like he doesn't want to break you. Or he's afraid you'll snap out of a haze, slap him and leave if he starts kissing you like he really wants to.

And then it's you who goes for it, you feel at home, right where you belong, you don't think you've ever felt this good. The hand on his jaw tugs him closer softly, pressing your lips to his with a bit more urgency.

It gives him all the confirmation he could possibly need.

That tingle, it grows and fills up your chest and shoots through your entire being, goosebumps and all. Eddie moans and breathes against your lips, tongue dancing over the thin skin, asking for permission.

His ringed hand digs deeper and slowly moves to the nape of your neck, intending to hold you in place, afraid you could slip away from him if he didn't. This blossoming thing between you could slip away from him. If he didn't.

It's so soft, the way his lips touch yours, and before you know it they move to your cheek, to your jaw, down your neck before Eddie comes up again, smiling from ear to ear, to gently bump his nose against the tip of yours and his lips return home with a soft and deep hum escaping from his lungs into your mouth.

Relief floods his veins along with whatever it is you're doing to him. The ability to shut out the insanity of the past hours is what he so desperately wants to cling to for as long as you allow him, even if the dawn will remind him of the horrid reality he's involuntarily become subject to live through now.

"You're making things so much better, Peach, you're so sweet, so fucking cute, so fucking good for me, do you even know for how long I've been dreaming of this?"

Eddie greedily pulls your face into his again, not even giving you a chance to reply and not nearly getting enough of your affection it seems with how fervently his tongue searches for yours.

A gentle collision of skin.

The soft whimpers you let out only spur him on. You not backing away from him, staying with him, letting him be this close to you?

You, the only constant source of consolation Eddie's ever really had.

Life changing.

Soft touches follow soft touches, your thumb traces his jaw repeatedly.

"You don't–", kiss, "for how long–", kiss, "I've been dreaming–", kiss, "of you as well", you breathe against him and Eddie thinks he might be about to resort to sniffling into your collar again with the amount of relief he is experiencing.

You'd let him.

"Yeah?", he presses his nose into your cheek with his eyes closed, smiling from ear to ear, relaxing his entire body into yours as you let him slide inbetween your legs.

"Yeah, you know how much of a sucker I am for peaches", you grin, another peck to his cheek, his jaw, his neck, your hips slowly finding a rhythm against his own.

Eddie groans at your allusion with a wide grin on his face (and the feeling of your warmth against his dick), before pressing his lips against yours again lovingly, "me too baby, me too."

–––

taglist (thought you might be interested): @josephfakingquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @analogkraken, @wroteclassicaly, @songforeddiemunson, @joejoequinnquinn, @somnambulic-thing, @trashmouth-richie, @eddddiemunson, @ceriseheaven, @userchai

comments, reblogs and other forms of affection towards the author are greatly appreciated thank youuuuu <3

[coldilikeit]

Yandere Batfam x Camp half-blood (Neglected reader)

Dc x Pjo

Part 5

________________________

Diana is seething, she's filled with rage, the lies Bruce fed her?

"I'm very worried for their wellbeing..."

"I miss them very much"

"they're so young, I don't want anything bad to happen to them"

Asshole.

She kicked the door of the justice hall down, startling the kids who had gone back on patrol from trying to find (Name)

"hey what gives?" Flash asks

Superman raised his eyebrow "you left so suddenly, mind telling us where you've been?"

She looks at batman's sidekicks and then at him, while staring him straight in the eyes "the kid is dead" she says

"what?"

A silence washing over the entire room

"the lady who attacked your house, that wasn't an ordinary lady, in the eyes of mortals she may look normal, but in the eyes of divine beings... It's a monster, that monster was an empousa, a poisonous fire breathing monster who feeds on the blood of mortals and divine beings alike" Diana thinks about how she'll explain everything to J'onn later, but figure that he's probably reading her mind right now

Her suspicions are confirmed as J'onn nods at her

"your kid, (Name), they're a demigod, because of that they're a target for monsters, they're gone, eaten, sorry Bruce"

Crap Diana thinks, was she too harsh? She was just too angry

Ignoring the fact Diana just announced Bruce slept with a god, Superman placed his hand on Batman's shoulder "My condolences Bruce"

Everyone was giving their apologies to the bats

She didn't look at the widened eyes of batman's sidekicks, she noticed but chose to ignore the sound of Dick collapsing into a chair, she heard didn't pay attention to the footsteps of Damian who had to run out of the room

Cass stiffened up, she trembled as if resembling a cracking statue, Steph wants to cry, but she knows very well that she doesn't deserve to cry over you, Barbara just- it's like she just stopped working

As much as she feels so cruel right now, she knew it was the only thing that will keep you hidden, if not, they'll keep trying to find you

Green arrow crossed his arms, but it was clear he was disturbed by the death of a 12 year old kid "Diana, please elaborate"

"Bruce here, had intercourse with a god, that led to (Name) being born, monsters attack demigods, people who are half god half human such as myself, without proper protection monsters kill demigods easily, and (Name) suffered that fate, monsters attack demigods while they're young and tasty and leave them alone as they grow older, they don't feed usually on humans, just animals and demigods"

It seemed like Batman or more appropriately for this situation Bruce wasn't even listening, his mind still stuck at the announcement of your death

"If it'd make you feel better, you can take a break for a while... I know what it's like to lose family, we all do, let yourself grieve Batman, you might be a hardcore vigilante but you're still a father" (to everyone but name) Barry suggests

Starfire has been trying to calm Dick down, his breathing has become irregular and unstable, switching between deep and short breaths

_________________________

Jon runs after Damian, it looked like any second, the unbeatable demon spawn fell to his knees

"Damian! Are you okay!?" Jon asks

"I-i thought it'd only last a few days... Maybe a week if they're incompetent, or maybe months if we're unlucky" Damian started to cough

He took off his robin mask and took a deep breath "Since there was no body, I was fine, I thought they're okay, maybe a few injuries here and there, but they're alive so it's fine, but- the reason there was no body... Was because she was eaten- by stupid, how'd -" Jon didn't know what to do, between the both of them, Damian was the composed one

Then two of his siblings came, Jason and Tim

"what the fuck? Demon spawn?" Jason was surprised, and immediately glared at Jon, accusingly looking at him for making his brother this way

Jon put his up defensively "I didn't do anything, promise, I'm trying to comfort him!"

Tim knelt down with Damian "what happened?"

"(Name) is dead"

And suddenly it feels like nothing matters anymore

____________________________

"okay! And this'll be your bed!" Selina ended the tour of the cabin

Selena Beauregard, Daughter of Aphrodite, she was your sister, Gosh you have a sister! And she was nice! She wasn't like Cass who for some reason, closed her eyes everytime you tried to communicate with her

Barbara pretended to be busy, too busy, what do you mean you have to work? Didn't your workplace get burned down by two-face two days ago?

Steph- at least she was honest, she straight up told you she' didn't want anything to do with you

A guy with blonde hair and blue eyes walked out of the bathroom, a nice change from the black and blue eyes you're used to

"hey! You're our new sister! The one who was flirting with that Hephaestus kid-"

"Aster! (Name) Told me they were just friends and if they were flirting what's wrong with that? Love is love" Selena came to your rescue

Aster tilted his head confused with the way you're shifting "what's wrong?" He asked

"aren't people in Greek mythology who are named after flowers turn into them?" You nervously fiddle with your fingers

With that some of your siblings who are in their respective spaces burst out laughing and Aster is hugging you laughing whilst explaining that in Greek mythology "the people came first, not the flower"

That seemed to calm you down a bit, then another girl, whose name is Drew spoke up "so (Name) who's your mortal parent?"

You freeze up at this question but the other kids seemed normal about it

"don't worry (Name) it's some game we play, cause mom's standards are high, we compare mortal parents" Another one one your brothers said, his name is Castillo, he had a faded hair color of blue to purple that reminded you of Ramona flowers

(this is actually canon in Pjo, lmao)

He continued "my father was a famous k-pop idol" he bragged

A little girl then shouted "My dad was a model for Designer clothing!"

Selena rolled her eyes "So whose your dad (Name)?"

You didn't want to answer that, but at the same time- this is the first sibling playing you've ever been in, you're included here!

"my dad is Bruce Wayne... You can look me up on Google- but he, he really wasn't the best- umm dad"

"THE BRUCE WAYNE?" Someone gasps

"i thought his name was Brucie?"

You hear in the background

"I didn't know he was an asshole" Aster muttered

"come on bro, the guy parties all day and he's with children, how could you ever think that guy's a good father?" Castillo shrugs his shoulders

"that's okay (Name), a lot of mom's lovers are vain, taking it too seriously in their heads that they slept with the goddess of beauty, that's why mom stopped revealing herself, there are rare moments, but they're rare" another sister of yours says

You honestly feel so at home here...

________________________

I'm now realizing that the "Neglected daughter" fandom is literally so small, I just saw like three of my readers in another fic I was reading XD

Let's support each other!!!! :3

Also the characters without description are canon characters, people who are actually in pjo

The one with descriptions are OC's!

So Drew and Selena are canon characters! :3

Callisto and Aster aren't

I hope you enjoy the chapter!

@wpdarlingpan @mountvesuvu @nathaly36 @delias-stuff @vanessa-boo @bat1212 @sadslasher13 @ellaprime7

[jungwnies]

F1 GRID | it was never meant to be (2/2)

୨ৎ : featuring : carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri ୨ৎ : synopsis : your f1 boyfriend's publicist suggests he should date someone with more status in front of the camera, he agrees to it, but what happens to your relationship when his "fake relationship" with her blossoms into something more.

୨ৎ : genre : heartbreak, angst, sad themes ୨ৎ : tws : arguing, break-up, cheating ୨ৎ : word count : 3456

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

୨ৎ part one (max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george hamilton, franco colapinto) ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : got this idea from my sister, she lowkey cooked.

ʚ・carlos sainz

the sound of the front door slamming shut echoed through the apartment, the soft click of the lock settling into place as carlos stood in the hallway, his hand still hovering over the doorknob. he had waited for this moment—waiting to say the right words, to fix everything—but the silence that met him only confirmed what he already knew.

he stepped inside, the familiar scent of your perfume and the slight clutter of your things tugging at his heart. the apartment felt empty now, devoid of your presence, and the weight of the last few weeks settled heavily on his shoulders.

he could still remember the last conversation you had, your words sharp, but your heart breaking beneath them. “you promised me it was just an act, carlos. you said you’d never let her get to you, that it was all for the public. but you chose her over me. you chose everything you built with her over what we had.”

and just like that, the distance between you two became something unbridgeable.

he let out a frustrated breath, running a hand through his hair as he paced around the living room. he had been so sure of himself when the decision was made. it seemed like the right thing to do at the time—to keep up the image, to follow the plan that everyone said would help his career. but now, standing in the quiet space you’d shared, it was clear how wrong he’d been.

his phone buzzed on the coffee table, the screen lighting up with your name. his heart skipped a beat, but he didn’t reach for it. he couldn’t. not now.

he knew it was too late to fix this.

the sound of the door opening behind him made him freeze. it was you—back to grab the last of your things, to finally close the chapter.

“carlos.” your voice was soft, but it carried a weight of finality.

he turned to face you, his heart sinking at the sight of your suitcase in hand, the look of exhaustion and pain etched into your face. “i didn’t want this to happen,” he said quietly, his throat tight with emotion. “i thought i could make it work, that i could juggle it all. but i messed up.”

you shook your head, a bitter smile on your lips. “it’s too late for apologies, carlos. you made your choice. and now, you have to live with it.”

“i know i messed up,” he admitted, taking a step forward, his voice pleading. “i didn’t think it would turn into this—into us being torn apart like this. i thought i could keep pretending, that it wouldn’t change what we had. but it did. and now…” his voice faltered, and for the first time, he didn’t have the words to make it right.

you stared at him for a long moment, your eyes filled with hurt, but also a resignation he couldn’t deny. “you think i didn’t know?” you asked, your voice steady despite the pain that lingered in it. “i knew, carlos. i knew it was coming. you’re in the spotlight. i wasn’t naïve enough to think it would last forever.”

“i never wanted to lose you,” he said desperately, taking another step forward, but you stepped back, shaking your head.

“but you did,” you whispered, your voice breaking as you looked down at your suitcase. “you lost me when you chose her. when you let it go too far. and now… now it’s too late to fix it.”

carlos reached out, but there was a chasm between you two now—one he knew he could never cross again. “please,” he begged, his voice cracking. “i was wrong. i never wanted to hurt you. i should’ve never let it go this far.”

but you had already made up your mind. “i thought i could handle it. i thought i could handle being second place to a pr stunt. but i can’t, carlos. not anymore.”

he stared at you, the weight of his actions finally hitting him. he had taken you for granted, assumed you’d always be there, that you would always wait for him to realize what he had. but now, he understood. it wasn’t about the mistakes—it was about the time he wasted. and it was too late.

you lifted the strap of your bag over your shoulder, standing tall despite the pain. “goodbye, carlos,” you said softly, turning toward the door. “i hope one day you realize what you lost.”

he stood there, frozen, as you walked out of the apartment, the door clicking shut behind you.

the silence that followed felt louder than any argument, any apology. and for the first time, carlos understood that some things, no matter how hard you try, couldn’t be fixed.

it was too late.

ʚ・charles leclerc

the dim light from the lamp by the window barely illuminated the room, casting long shadows on the walls. charles sat on the edge of the bed, his hands clasped tightly together, his head hung low. you had just come back from packing the last of your things. the suitcases were by the door, but you hadn’t left yet. not yet.

you could feel his eyes on you, even without looking. every step you took seemed to echo in the silence that stretched between you, the unspoken words heavy in the air. but you didn’t need to speak anymore. everything had already been said in the glances, the quiet moments, the way he had pulled away from you without ever saying the words.

“i’m sorry.” his voice cracked as he spoke, though he didn’t look up at you, his gaze fixed on the floor beneath him.

the words stung more than they should. it wasn’t the first time he had apologized. it wasn’t even the first time he had said he was sorry for “everything.” but this time, there was something different about it. it felt final, like a goodbye.

you wiped away the tear that slipped down your cheek, shaking your head. “sorry doesn’t change anything anymore, charles.”

his eyes lifted, and the pain you saw there made your heart ache even more. he opened his mouth to speak, but the words caught in his throat. instead, he stood up slowly, walking over to where you stood by the door, but not close enough to touch you.

“i never wanted to hurt you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “i never wanted any of this to happen. but somewhere along the way, i lost myself. i thought i could handle everything—being in the spotlight, being who i am—and still be the person you needed me to be. but i failed you.”

the rawness in his voice made your chest tighten, the truth settling in like a weight on your heart. “i waited, charles,” you whispered. “i waited for you to come back to me. i waited for you to choose us—choose me—but you kept choosing everything else. your career. the team. the world watching. you even chose her, and i wasn’t enough anymore.”

“i didn’t mean for it to be like this.” his words were desperate now, each one edged with regret. he reached for your hand, but you pulled away, the distance between you both widening as the hurt you both had kept buried started to pour out.

“i wanted you to choose me, charles,” you said, your voice cracking, tears streaming down your face now. “i wanted you to want me. but instead, i was just the person you left behind when things got hard. when the pressure was too much. when it wasn’t convenient for you. you never saw how much it hurt me to watch you fall away from me, little by little.”

he reached for you again, this time his fingers brushing the edge of your sleeve, but you stepped back, shaking your head. “you don’t get to do this,” you whispered, voice shaking. “you don’t get to apologize now. you don’t get to come back after you’ve already pulled away. because you’ve already made your choice, charles.”

“i never stopped loving you,” he said, his voice breaking as his emotions spilled over. his eyes were pleading, desperate, but it wasn’t enough. “i never stopped wanting you.”

“i know,” you said, choking on your own tears. “but love isn’t enough when you don’t show up. love isn’t enough when you choose everything else over the person who’s standing right in front of you, waiting for you to come back, love isn't enough when you've already betrayed me.”

the silence between you both was unbearable. the love you once shared felt like a ghost, haunting every word, every glance. charles stood in front of you, broken, as if everything he had done had led to this moment—the moment when he realized too late what he had lost.

“i’m so sorry,” he whispered again, his voice trembling. “i never meant to push you away.”

but you could feel it in his eyes—the regret, the realization that he hadn’t fought for you. not enough. he hadn’t fought for the one thing that mattered most. and now it was too late.

“i loved you, charles,” you said, your voice barely audible. “but love isn’t supposed to hurt like this. it’s not supposed to make you feel invisible, i'm not supposed to feel like second. and i can’t do it anymore.”

you could hear him take a sharp breath as if he was going to say something—anything—but the words never came. there was nothing left to say.

you turned, walking slowly toward the door, but before you could reach it, charles whispered one last time.

“please don’t go.”

the sound of his voice cracked something deep within you, but you couldn’t turn around. you couldn’t look at him again and see the man who had once promised to never let you go—because now, he was the one who had let you slip away.

you paused at the door, your hand resting on the knob. you wanted to turn around, to run into his arms and forget everything that had happened. but you knew better now.

“goodbye, charles,” you whispered, your voice steady despite the ache that threatened to swallow you whole.

and when you left, the apartment was silent.

charles stood there, the weight of his choices suffocating him, as he realized that some things, no matter how much you wish they could be fixed, couldn’t be undone. the love he had taken for granted had slipped through his fingers, and now it was gone.

and it was too late.

ʚ・lando norris

lando smiled at you when he saw you, but it was strained. forced, even. the usual warmth in his expression was missing.

“hey,” he said softly, sitting down across from you. his fingers drummed nervously on the edge of his cup, a habit you knew all too well.

“hey,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. “it’s been a while.”

“yeah,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “i’ve been…” he trailed off, clearly unsure how to explain everything that had been going on. how could he?

but you didn’t need him to say it. you already knew. the tabloids had made it all too clear—the constant photos of him with her, the whispers about their blossoming romance, the way his eyes had started to light up in a way that had never happened when he was with you.

you knew who “she” was. the girl they’d set him up with for publicity. the girl who was supposed to be just a temporary distraction, someone to help with the image. but somehow, in the chaos of it all, he had started to look at her the way he once looked at you.

you took a slow breath, trying to push the sting from your chest. “i saw the photos,” you said quietly. “i saw you with her.”

lando’s eyes flickered to yours, and he opened his mouth, then closed it again. “it’s not what it looks like,” he began, but you shook your head, cutting him off.

“i’m not stupid, lando,” you said, your voice quiet but firm. “i’ve known for a while now. i can see it in the way you look at her. i saw it in your eyes the last time we were together. the way you pulled away from me, as if everything i had to offer wasn’t enough. as if she was what you really wanted.”

he looked at you, his face softening, guilt overtaking the nerves that had been there moments before. “it wasn’t supposed to happen like this,” he said quietly. “i thought it was just an act—just something to keep up for the cameras. but somewhere along the way, it wasn’t an act anymore. i…” he paused, eyes searching yours for any sign that you might understand, but you didn’t. you couldn’t.

“you fell in love with her,” you whispered, the words tasting bitter on your tongue.

lando flinched, his eyes brimming with regret, but he didn’t deny it. “i didn’t mean to,” he said, his voice breaking. “i thought it was just a job. just something i had to do. but she… she started to mean more to me than i ever thought she would. i didn’t know how to stop it. and i didn’t know how to come back to you after it happened.”

your heart shattered in that moment. you had known this was coming, had tried to ignore the signs, but hearing him admit it made it feel real. and it hurt more than you could have imagined.

“why didn’t you fight for me?” you asked, your voice trembling with the weight of all the hurt you had carried for weeks. “why didn’t you choose me? i was here, lando. i was always here.”

“i thought i could have both,” he said softly, his eyes filled with shame. “i thought i could keep her in the public eye and still be with you, but i was wrong. i let myself get caught up in the image, in the expectations. i wasn’t fair to you, and i’m sorry.”

the apology, though it was heartfelt, didn’t reach you. you had waited, hoped that he would come back to you, that he would see that you were the one who had always been there, the one who truly loved him. but now, as he sat there, his eyes searching yours for forgiveness, you realized that the lando you had known was no longer the same.

“you promised me it was just a pr stunt,” you said, your voice breaking. “you promised me that it wasn’t real. but now you’re telling me that it was? you’re telling me that you fell in love with someone else, someone you were supposed to be faking it with?”

“i never wanted this,” he said, his voice cracking. “i never wanted to hurt you. but i lost sight of what mattered. and now…” he trailed off, unable to finish.

you stood up, your hands shaking as you grabbed your bag. “i can’t do this anymore, lando,” you whispered. “i waited for you to come back, but you chose her. and now, there’s nothing left.”

lando stood up too, reaching out for you, but you stepped back, the distance between you both growing with every second. “please,” he said, his voice desperate. “please don’t leave like this.”

but you had already made your decision. you turned to walk away, your heart heavy with the weight of everything you had hoped for, and everything you had lost.

and as you stepped out of the café, the finality of it hit you. you had known it would happen sooner or later. but now, with him standing there, lost in his choices, it felt real. and it hurt more than you could ever have imagined.

ʚ・oscar piastri

oscar stopped in front of you, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets, and offered a small, apologetic smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “hey,” he said quietly.

“hey,” you replied, your voice steadier than you felt. you could see the tension in his posture, the way his shoulders were stiff, as if he were bracing himself for something difficult. and you knew exactly what it was.

“i know you’ve been waiting for me to explain,” oscar began, taking a deep breath, and you felt the air around you grow heavier. “i’ve been putting this off for too long, and i should’ve told you sooner…”

the words lingered between you, unsaid, but both of you knew. you knew what was coming. the truth that you had refused to admit to yourself, the truth that oscar had been hiding for weeks now, ever since he’d been thrust into the spotlight with her.

his team had set him up with someone—someone with the right image, the right look for the media. a relationship, a story that would sell. it had started out as a distraction, a way to fulfill expectations. but somewhere along the way, oscar had lost himself in it. and you were left behind, the person who was no longer part of the story.

“i didn’t want it to happen like this,” he said softly, sitting beside you, the space between you two now palpable. “i didn’t want to hurt you. i told myself it was just for the cameras, just for the public. but i…” he hesitated, as if searching for the right words, but there was nothing that could soften this blow.

“you fell for her,” you said, the words escaping before you could stop them.

oscar flinched, his eyes glancing away, and you knew it was true. “i didn’t mean for it to happen. but she’s different. i’m not saying i didn’t care about you, but i got caught up in it. i didn’t realize until it was too late, that what i had with her wasn’t just pretend anymore. it wasn’t just a pr stunt.”

your heart shattered in that instant. you had known, somewhere deep down, that this was always the risk. the truth was, you had always been a shadow—someone in the background while the world paid attention to the story they wanted to sell. but hearing it from oscar, hearing him say the words out loud, made it all too real.

“you promised me it wasn’t real,” you whispered, the sting of betrayal evident in your voice. “you promised me it was just for the cameras, just for the image. and i…” your throat tightened, the tears threatening to spill, but you held them back. “i waited for you, oscar. i waited for you to come back. but you didn’t. you fell for her, and now, it’s too late.”

he looked at you then, his eyes filled with something close to regret, but it wasn’t enough. “i never meant for it to happen like this,” he repeated softly, almost pleading. “but i can’t lie to you anymore. i can’t pretend that what i have with her doesn’t feel real. i’ve hurt you, and i know it’s too late to take it back.”

the silence stretched between you both, thick and suffocating. you couldn’t find the words to express the pain—how much it hurt to hear him say it out loud, how much it hurt to realize that the love you thought was yours was never really there at all.

“i waited for you,” you said, your voice breaking, unable to hold it together anymore. “i waited, and i trusted you. but you chose her. and now, i can’t be here anymore.”

oscar reached out, his hand hovering in the air as if he were trying to find a way to bridge the gap between you, but you pulled back. the space between you felt too wide, too deep for anything to fill it now. “i’m sorry,” he said, his voice low, the words hollow and empty between you. “i never meant to hurt you. you mean everything to me, but i’ve already made my choice, and i can’t go back.”

you shook your head, standing up, the tears finally spilling over, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. “i loved you,” you said quietly. “i gave you everything, oscar. and you threw it all away for something that wasn’t real.”

oscar stayed seated, his head in his hands, the weight of the realization falling heavily on him. but for you, it was already too late.

you turned and walked away without another word, your heart breaking with every step. you knew it wasn’t just the loss of him—it was the loss of the love you thought you had, the love you thought was real.

and as you left, the painful truth settled deep in your bones: some things, no matter how much you wish otherwise, just weren’t meant to be.

2021-2025 © jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[fuctacles]

one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten | eleven | twelve | thirteen | fourteen

extras: | 🐈 | 🐾 | 🐈 |

Eddie was lowkey disgusted by how his uncle would talk about one of his neighbors. No, he doesn't think it's bad for old people to fall in love or have crushes. But it's weird to know these things about his own uncle. 

And it's also sad to watch, because it's been months of Stephanie this, Stephanie that, and nothing came of it, so he felt safe to assume the infatuation was one-sided. So when he tells his uncle he can't go feed her cats that week, he figures it's for the best. And not only because of Wayne's twisted ankle. To his surprise though, he doesn't seem fazed; he just waves his hand and says:

"Yeah, yeah, I know. No climbing the stairs with this thing." He pokes the cast with his crutch. "I've already volunteered you anyway."

Eddie raises his eyebrows because he surely misheard that.

"You did what now?"

"Told Stephanie I'll send you to feed her cats," Wayne says, confirming his fears.

"Why?! She has so many other neighbors!" Eddie points out, gesturing vigorously around the room, implying but meaning the flats surrounding them. 

Wayne clicks his tongue at him.

"Would you let in just any of your neighbors into your home? She already trusts me, and I'm vouching for you."

Eddie gapes at him, hating that he's making a valid point. Damned be his old man and his reasonable thinking. He crosses his arms because while it makes sense, it doesn't mean Eddie can't be angry about it. 

"When?"

"She's visiting her friend this weekend so she asked for Saturday evening and Sunday morning. And stay with them for a while if possible, so they don't go crazy. Ah, and the plant in the kitchen needs watering."

"Great," Eddie grits through his teeth. He's so delighted at the prospect of spending time with some old lady's cats. The whole place probably stinks of cat piss and he'll definitely kill the plant as soon as he touches it. (It was his only superpower, which is not what he aimed for when his five-year-old had been praying, thanks for nothing, Jesus.) He just hopes he won't have to meet her. Hearing some old hag complain about his clothes, hair, and general adolescence was the last thing he wanted on his weekend off. But, alas...

"She asked you to come over tomorrow so she can show you where everything is."

Eddie groans. 

It's a Friday afternoon, he's at his uncle's taking a break from college and work. He should be sharing a beer with the old man, complaining about the coursework, the professors, and other students, not picking him up from the hospital, and running errands while his foot is in a cast. And certainly not meeting up with old stinky spinsters. 

To add insult to injury, Miss Stephanie, (which, by the way, is such a typical old hag name) lives two floors higher and the elevator is perpetually broken. Not too high, but high enough for Eddie's anemic lungs to start collapsing. 

He stops around the corner to steady his breath, because regardless of his overall attitude, he didn't want to worsen the first impression. He already refused to 'dress like a decent man' and didn't want to wheeze into the lady's face on top of it. 

Once his lungs are functioning properly again, he walks into the hallway, looking for number 54 as Wayne instructed. He knocks on the door, hoping he didn't mess it up and is at the right place. What if it was 45?

It must have been because he was told Stephanie Harrington lives alone. 

"Uh, sorry, I must have—"

"Are you Eddie?" The woman who opened the door takes him in. At her feet, a tabby cat peers curiously at the new human.

"Uh, yeah? I'm looking for Miss Stephanie?" he offers awkwardly. Maybe that's the friend? Or a sister?

But the woman extends her hand and smiles brightly.

"That would be me, but please call me Steph. I wish I could drill that into Wayne's thick skull." She rolls her eyes fondly.

Her big, gorgeous eyes, framed by thick lashes. She's not an old hag, she could be in her forties at best. She's tall and curvy and her hair looks straight out of a shampoo commercial. She's gorgeous. Eddie shakes her hand in a daze.

"Hi," he croaks as he's ushered inside. 

"Come in, come in! I've heard so much about you, it's great to finally see you in person. I must say," she turns around and gives him a quick once-over. "Wayne's stories didn't do you justice."

Did she just check him out?

Eddie clears his throat, suddenly dry like his elbows during winter.

"Uh, same to you."

"Yeah?" She puts her hands on her hips, raising an eyebrow. "What does he say about me?"

"Good things only," Eddie assures her. 

"So you're saying I'm a bitch." She squints at him.

"No!" His eyes widen. "What?!" 

"Well, if he's saying only good things about me, and you say they don't describe me right..." 

Eddie gets the point she's making and quickly shakes his head.

"No, he just made you sound like a crazy old cat lady, and you're..." He waves his hand uselessly. "Not that."

She sighs softly, shoulders sagging a little. It would be easy to miss but Eddie's senses are heightened after his fuck up.

"I kinda am, though," she says with a shrug. 

Eddie feels the need to reassure her somehow.

"Well, you're not eighty and your place doesn't smell like cat litter, I think you're fine."

She barks a laugh, it's low and surprised and Eddie's cheeks are red because he's just digging further into the hole he's in, isn't he?

"Good to know the bar is so low."

Eddie groans, tired of doing damage control that's not controlling anything.

"I'm gonna shut up now."

"Please don't." Steph smiles wide and teasingly. "You're a funny one. Just like your uncle told me."

Eddie scoffs. He's going to have a word or two with the old man once he's back.

"Great, this is exactly the impression I was hoping to make."

At his words, the woman eyes him up and down again, and he can feel his cheeks heating up.

"Yeah? Not as the local punk satanist?" she teases, making Eddie bristle.

"Metalhead," he corrects instinctively and immediately winces.

"Ah, my bad. I'm not good at the subcultures thing." She smiles apologetically but it doesn't read well with how clearly amused she is. "Anyway, here's the plant I want you to water tomorrow evening. Just like, half a glass."

Right. Plants. Cats. He came here on a mission.

"Come on, I'll show you my cats."

There's only three of them and they come rushing from all corners of the flat at the rustle of a catnip bag. Eddie never saw high cats so he's glad to have this opportunity now. Stephanie points to the tabby he saw earlier.

"This is Dart, she's not actually mine, but my friend couldn't keep her at the dorms. This is Garfield," she points to the orange cat, making Eddie huff a laugh. She grins. "Yeah, don't tell anyone, but he's my favorite," she whispers, to which Eddie mimics zipping his mouth shut. 

Lastly, she points to the black cat rolling on the carpet. 

"And this is Arwen."

Eddie frowns.

"Like, The Lord of the Rings Arwen?"

"Yeah," Steph sighs. "Dustin named her. He's the friend I've mentioned. Dart is short for D'Artagnan and I've fought teeth and nail for Garfield not to be called Pippin."

"Pippin is a great name, though," Eddie points out.

"Maybe," she huffs, crossing her arms. "But I wanted one for myself, okay? Not everything has to be about Dustin."

"Is Dustin like, your brother or something?" 

"Kinda?" She frowns. "We're not actually related but I babysat him, and then we became friends. He just stuck around, somehow." The words sound angry but her face betrays the fondness she has for her friends. 

"That's nice," he offers. "I'm an only child, never met any cousins, and only ever had friends my age."

"Well, good for you. Maybe if I had friends my age I wouldn't be living alone with a bunch of cats."

Eddie frowns. 

"Hey, now..."

She cuts him off with a dismissive wave of her hand. 

"I'll show you where the food is." 

Eddie's in a daze when he comes back downstairs, only realizing his visit ended when he's standing in his uncle's living room. He's been gone for only half an hour but it feels longer. 

"How did it go?" his uncle asks, pulling him out of his reverie. 

Edie turns to him and blinks, fighting the cotton around his brain.

"Fine?" he offers. "She's not as old as I expected," he admits bluntly. His uncle snorts.

"What, just because she lives alone with her cats you assumed she's on her deathbed?"

Eddie winces. It's exactly what he did.

"Well, the people in her life weren't kind to her, so now she relies on her pets. Nothing wrong with that." Wayne shrugs. 

"What do you mean?" Eddie frowns, curious. Concerned. He goes to the kitchen, not wanting to seem too eager to get an answer, and grabs a beer for himself and his uncle. He opens the junk drawer to find an opener and hears his uncle answer from the adjacent living room space. 

"She doesn't say much about it and I never asked, but she's always alone on the holidays. Her friends visit a few days before or after."

Eddie walks back in and hands his uncle the opened bottle. 

"Thanks, son."

He nods and settles heavily in an armchair. Focusing his gaze on the label peeling off of his beer, he hums thoughtfully.

"No family?"

"Seems so." Wayne nods solemnly. "I think it was a conflict of lifestyle choices, but I'll be honest, I'm basing it off of rumors and my own assumptions." He scratches his cheek, frowning at the wall. "It's not my place to pry, though I offered to hear her out if she ever felt like needing an ear." He sighs. "I'm just trying to be a good neighbor. Invited her for dinner over Thanksgiving, when you couldn't come. I was surprised she's into basketball," he muses. 

Eddie was seeking answers and now was even more confused.

"You invited Miss Stephanie. For a dinner?" He raised his eyebrows. 

"Yes. She was alone, I was alone, figured I could at least ask. I'm still surprised she agreed. She declined all my other offers."

"Wow." A teasing smile creeps on his lips against his will. "You've been inviting a lot of women since I moved out?"

"Listen," Wayne takes on his stern voice and it takes all of Eddie's willpower not to cackle. He can see his uncle's mustache twitch. "Stephanie is a lovely lady, but she's way too young for an old man like me. And this old man is too old for romance anyway. Besides—" he cuts himself off like he realized he was saying too much. Which, of course, piques Eddie's curiosity. 

"Besides?"

Wayne shrugs.

"I don't think I'd ever be ready for someone like her."

Eddie makes a confused face. 

"The fuck does that mean?" he asks, irritated. 

"Rumors and speculations, son."

[aisiedaisie]

Royal Flush

Authors Note: Sorry this update took so long!!! I wanted to have the chapter put out by Monday but everyone in my house is sick with the flu. I wrote a bit more as an apology. I hope you enjoy!!!

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

Pairing: Poly!Marauders x Fem!Reader WC: 3.6K

As the sun slipped below the horizon, the last vestiges of daylight painted your room in muted hues of amber and lavender. The embroidery you had been working on lay abandoned on the small round table near the window, forgotten as the stillness was abruptly shattered. 

Lily stormed in, her fiery presence consuming the space, followed closely by Mary, who lingered near the door, her expression laced with concern. With an exaggerated sigh, the princess threw herself onto your bed, the linens crumpling beneath her in a dramatic display of exasperation.

You turned from the fading light, one brow arching in silent inquiry as your gaze flitted from Lily to Mary, whose fingers twisted together anxiously.

Mary finally broke the silence, her voice hesitant yet steady. “The dignitaries,” she began, her words faltering as she glanced at Lily, “are requesting our lady’s hand in marriage.”

The room seemed to still, the weight of the statement sinking in like a stone dropped into a calm pond. “What?” you breathed, the question spilling out before you could stop it. Your wide eyed gaze darted between Mary and Lily, searching for clarification.

“Why would they even suggest that?” you asked after a moment, the unease in Mary’s posture stoking a sense of dread deep in your chest.

Mary’s lips pressed into a thin line, a subtle gesture that spoke volumes. Her hesitation made the pit in your stomach deepen, and you knew her answer would bring no comfort.

“They wish to strengthen ties between the kingdoms,” Mary explained at last, her tone careful. “And since the prince decided to… leave the meeting rather abruptly, they began considering alternative candidates.” Her words were measured, but the underlying tension was unmistakable.

Lily  groaned and rolled onto her back, her peridot eyes dulled by frustration. “I can’t even blame him,” she muttered. “If I had the chance, I’d have left too.” Her hand waved dismissively in the air. “We’ve been friends for as long as I can remember, but we’ve never even entertained the idea of marrying one another. I certainly haven’t.”

Mary nodded in quiet agreement, adding softly, “Judging by the way he left, I’d say the prince feels the same.”

You frowned, the pieces of the story not entirely fitting. “Why bring this to you, though? Isn’t this a matter for your parents to discuss?”

Lily sat up slightly, her expression equal parts incredulous and irate. “You’d think so!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands into the air. “But apparently, I’m of age to make my own decisions. Not that they’re asking for a wedding tomorrow,” she continued with a bitter grumble. “They just want me to consider the proposal. As if that somehow makes it less ridiculous.”

You sighed and crossed the room, lighting the gas lamp with a practiced hand. The flame flickered to life, its soft glow casting shadows across Lily’s face, now set in a grimace. Her next words came out in a quiet grumble. “They want me to consider Regulus.”

You froze for a beat, the name hanging in the air. “Duke Black’s son?” you asked, your voice cautious.

Lily hummed in confirmation, her tone heavy with irritation. Mary’s silent nod only solidified the weight of the situation.

The night stretched on, the tension easing only when Marlene joined the discussion, her arrival heralded by the scent of sweet treats piled high on a tray. 

The princess’s guard placed it carefully on the bedside table, a silent gesture of comfort for the princess.

For hours, the four of you spoke in hushed tones, the conversation ebbing and flowing like tides. Beneath the low hum of voices, a plan began to take shape, fragile and tentative but enough to carry Lily through the storm. 

_____

The quiet of the room seemed heavier now that Lily, Mary, and Marlene had gone, leaving you alone with your thoughts. The faint echo of their laughter and conversation faded, replaced by the stillness that pressed in around you. 

The dignitaries’ insistence on binding the kingdoms through marriage weighed heavily on your mind. It seemed inevitable now, a decision looming over Lily’s future and yours by proxy. 

It made the prospect of returning to Eylillium feel like a distant dream, and as much as you’d tried to settle here the past few days, a pang of homesickness clung to you. 

The familiar faces of the palace staff, the echo of your footsteps in its marble halls, the scent of the gardens after a summer rain— you missed it all.

Shivering, you climbed into bed, pulling the covers tightly around you. The nightgown you wore was far too thin for the chill creeping into the room, and the drafty windows offered little to no reprieve. Staring at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to claim you, but it didn’t come. 

Instead, thoughts swirled ceaselessly.

You’d need warmer clothes, that much was certain. Winter’s bite was fast approaching, and your wardrobe was ill suited to the northern chill. Shopping would be necessary, though the thought of venturing into unfamiliar shops was more daunting than it should have been.

Sleep evaded you, each minute feeling like an eternity. 

_____

The hours ticked by, the moon climbing high into the sky, bathing the room in its silver glow. 

With a soft groan, you gave in, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed and padding to the small table by the window. The embroidery you’d abandoned earlier waited for you, the needle still resting in place.

Relighting the lamp, its warm glow cast soft shadows over the delicate work. You picked up the silken handkerchief, tracing your fingers over the partially completed design. Lavender stems, small white lemon blossoms, and a pink amaryllis bloomed in the lower corner— a curious combination of flowers yet they felt so right together. You’d left it half finished earlier when your back had protested the hours spent hunched over.

Taking up the needle once more, you were about to continue when something moved just beyond the edge of your vision. You froze, your fingers tightening slightly around the fabric. Slowly, you turned your gaze toward the window.

In the garden below, a figure moved among the moonlit paths. Their silhouette was unmistakable, a mix of grace and restless energy.

“Sirius?” The name slipped from your lips in a whisper, barely audible in the stillness of the night.

You leaned closer to the window, watching as he paced through the garden, his movements restless, as though something weighed heavily on him. Whatever it was, it was enough to pull him from the warmth of the palace into the cool embrace of the night.

You grab the shawl you wore earlier that day, wrapping it tightly around your shoulders, and slip on the nearest pair of shoes— a horrendous choice. The forest green clashed with your nightgown but you couldn’t really be bothered to care.

 All you can focus on is the thought of Sirius below, his unease obvious even from a distance.

Before you can think better of it, your feet are carrying you out the door, down the hall, and toward the gardens. The cool stone floor bites at your feet through the thin soles of your shoes, but the sensation barely registers. A strangled feeling sits heavy in your chest, an inexplicable pull that drives you forward.

The air hits you as soon as you step outside, sharp and brisk. Your breath puffs out in visible clouds, mingling with the faint mist rolling over the garden. You don’t realize you’re running until the sound of your hurried steps echoes softly against the flagstones, your shawl fluttering loosely behind you as the palace’s warmth gives way to the garden’s crisp night chill.

“Sirius,” you call out, your voice low but urgent as you weave through the labyrinth of moonlit paths.

He doesn’t seem to hear you at first, his figure moving in aimless loops, hands buried in his pockets. When you draw closer, the tension in his shoulders becomes unmistakable, and your concern only deepens.

_____

You stood there for a long moment, watching Sirius pace under the pale glow of the moon. His lips moved as he muttered to himself, his hands gesturing faintly as though wrestling with invisible demons. The sight left you rooted in place, uncertainty holding you back. 

What could you say? 

What should you say?

The realization struck you like a quiet weight— you barely knew him. 

You’d spoken to Sirius Black only twice before. And yet, seeing him like this, troubled and pacing alone in the cold, stirred something deep within you. The thought of his suffering, of him being left to face whatever burden pressed upon him, unsettled you to your very core.

You drew a shaky breath, steeling your resolve as you adjusted your shawl, pulling it tighter around your shoulders. Your fingers fidgeted with the fabric, a nervous gesture that felt grounding against the growing whirlwind in your chest.

‘What’s the worst that could happen?’ you thought to yourself.

 He might dismiss you, or perhaps he wouldn’t want to talk. But still, the thought of leaving him alone felt impossible.

“Sirius?” you finally called, his name hesitant and soft on your lips.

His reaction was immediate. He froze mid-stride, turning sharply to face you, his silver eyes wide and bright in the moonlight. For a fleeting moment, you saw unguarded shock and something like raw panic beneath it. Then, like a door slamming shut, he masked it with a familiar, practiced smile— a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Oh, my lady,” he greeted lightly, his tone almost too casual. “What are you doing out here at this hour?”

You ignored the deflection, stepping closer with cautious determination. His words might have carried charm, but his tense shoulders and restless gaze betrayed the truth. Gently, you rested your hand on his arm, a tentative offer of comfort. 

“Sirius,” you asked, your voice softer this time, “are you alright?”

He hesitated, his smile faltering under the weight of your concern. “I should be asking you that,” he deflected again, though his voice wavered ever so slightly.

“I’m fine,” you replied firmly, your gaze searching his. “But you’re not. You’re… panicked.”

For a moment, he said nothing, his expression caught somewhere between a laugh and a grimace. Then he sighed, running a hand through his hair in a gesture of weariness. “I’m fine,” he repeated, though his tone lacked conviction. “Or, at least,  I will be.”

He then shoved his hands deep into his coat pockets, but even so, you noticed the faint tremor in them. Without thinking, you reached for one, tugging it gently from the warmer depths. His fingers were ice against yours, and you gasped softly. “Sirius, how long have you been out here?” you demanded, cupping his hand between your own in an effort to warm it.

He stared at your hands, his expression flickering between surprise and something unreadable. “A while,” he admitted finally, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I didn’t notice the cold.”

“How could you not?” you ask firmly, rubbing his hand between your palms. “You can’t stay out here like this. Whatever’s troubling you, it won’t help if you freeze to death.”

Sirius let out a soft, mirthless chuckle, his posture sagging slightly. “You’re relentless, aren’t you?” he murmured, though there was no malice in his tone— only a quiet, grudging gratitude that he didn’t yet know how to express.

“I may be, but I really don’t care at the moment,” you replied softly, holding his gaze. “Let’s get you inside. You’re practically frozen.”

Sirius hesitated, his silver eyes searching yours for a beat before he sighed and gave a reluctant nod. He allowed you to guide him back into the palace, his movements slower than before, his shoulders faintly slouched against the chill.

“I’m fine, really,” he murmured as you led him through the quiet halls, though his words carried no real conviction.

You glanced back at him but said nothing, your silence a quiet refusal to humor his insistence. Once in your room, you motioned toward the small round table near the window, the lamp still casting its warm glow. Sirius lowered himself into the chair, and you quickly fetched the sheets from your bed. Without a word, you wrapped them around his shoulders, tucking the fabric snugly in place.

He looked up at you, a flicker of amusement softening his features as the makeshift cocoon left him almost immobile. “You didn’t have to go to such lengths,” he teased, his voice low, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“That’s debatable,” you replied, straightening with a nod. “You need to warm up.”

He chuckled lightly, though his eyes remained shadowed, the humor not quite reaching them. “You’re far too kind, my lady. Though I’d argue it’s you who needs tending to. You’re shivering.”

“It’s nothing,” you dismissed with a wave of your hand, unwilling to shift the focus from him. “You’ve been out there far longer than I have.”

For a moment, you considered offering him something warm to drink, but you realized with a pang of frustration that you still didn’t know where the kitchens were. A note for tomorrow, you thought, making a mental reminder to ask Molly. 

Instead, you leaned against the edge of your bed, watching as Sirius shifted under the weight of the linens. His shoulders had eased, but tension lingered in the set of his jaw.

“I might be overstepping,” you began hesitantly, your voice soft, “but I can find Remus— or His Highness, if you’d prefer.”

Sirius shook his head quickly, a sharp movement that made the loose strands of his hair fall forward. “They already know.”

The statement gave you pause. “And they just let you…?” You gestured vaguely toward the direction of the gardens, disbelief creeping into your voice.

“I told them I was going to my room,” he admitted quietly, his gaze dropping to his hands.

You exhaled softly, sitting down fully on the bed. “For what it’s worth, I’m here if you need to talk,” you offered. “I know we don’t know each other well, but…” You trailed off, searching for the right words, but found none.

He looked up, and for a moment, the vulnerability in his expression took your breath away. The light from the lamp reflected faintly in his eyes, giving them a silvery glow that seemed almost ethereal. You couldn’t help but think how utterly unfair it was for someone to look as he did, even now, burdened by whatever weighed on his mind.

Sirius inhaled deeply, leaning back against the chair. “You’ve probably already heard about Regulus,” he said at last, his voice barely above a murmur.

Your eyes widened slightly as realization struck. “I heard this evening,” you admitted. “But… it’s not decided yet, is it?”

Sirius nodded, his hair brushing against his cheeks. “Right, but I know my family… I know my mother.” His voice grew quieter, tinged with bitterness. “She’ll push for the marriage, no matter what anyone else says.”

The weight in his words made your heart ache. You stepped closer, your hand instinctively finding his back, and you rubbed slow, comforting circles over his shoulder blades. The tension beneath your palm was palpable.

“I could speak with Her Highness,” you offered gently. “She doesn’t seem particularly keen on marriage either. She seemed just as blindsided by the idea as you.”

He hummed in acknowledgment, a faint nod accompanying the sound. “You’re right,” he said after a moment, though his voice carried a strain of lingering doubt. “I shouldn’t let it get to me. Sorry—”

“You don’t need to apologize,” you interrupted, squeezing his shoulder lightly. “You’re allowed to feel what you feel.”

You crouched slightly to take his hands in yours, testing their warmth. His fingers were no longer icy, but they trembled against your palms. “You’re shaking,” you murmured, brushing your thumbs over his knuckles.

Sirius hesitated, his gaze fixed somewhere over your shoulder. “They always do when I’m nervous,” he admitted finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your chest tightened further at the admission. “I’m so sorry, Sirius. We’ll figure this out, I promise. If Her Highness—”

He let out a soft laugh, cutting you off mid-sentence. His gray eyes darted up to meet yours, shimmering with a fleeting light of amusement. “I’m not nervous about that right now.”

You blinked in surprise, your confusion evident. “Then what—?”

A charmingly lopsided grin spread across his face, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes but was nonetheless disarming. “Are you not the least bit nervous, my lady? Being alone with a man in your chambers at this hour?” His tone was teasing, but the faint blush dusting his cheeks betrayed him.

The realization hit you like a bolt of lightning, and your face warmed. You stepped back quickly, pulling your shawl tightly around you.

“OH MY GOODNESS!” you gasped, clapping a hand over your mouth as though that might contain your embarrassment.

It didn’t.

Sirius chuckled, his laugh low and melodic. “You have a way of making the most unexpected moments entertaining,” he said, his voice light with amusement.

“This is beyond embarrassing,” you mumbled from behind your hand, avoiding his gaze.

“I’ll admit, it’s refreshing,” he teased gently, the pink still faintly dusting his cheeks. “Most would be too stunned to react so… dramatically.”

You let out a groan, burying your face in your hands. “I’m never going to live this down.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said, leaning back with a sly grin. “I think it might just make me fonder of you.”

“Oh, don’t say that,” you murmured, turning away as the warmth in your cheeks betrayed you once more.

Sirius stood, the cocoon of linen slipping from his shoulders and pooling on the chair. He crossed the room with quiet steps until he was behind you, his hands resting on your shoulders with a gentle, almost hesitant weight, as if afraid to overstep.

“Why not?” he asked softly, his voice low and steady, brushing against the quiet of the night.

You glanced over your shoulder, meeting his gaze, bashful but searching. “I don’t think his Highness would— ”

He offered a small, reassuring smile, one that softened the sharpness of his features. “He would agree with me,” Sirius replied, his words laced with a sincerity that made your chest tighten.

“What— ” Your words faltered. “What do you mean?” The air between you seemed to thrum with something unspoken, and you found yourself holding your breath.

Sirius quirked a brow, amusement flickering briefly in his stormy eyes. “I meant what I said. James would agree with me.” His smile lingered, warm and genuine, as if begging you to believe him.

Confusion creased your brow. “But—”

Before you could form a proper protest, Sirius chuckled, the sound low and rich, and lifted a hand to your face. His slender fingers trembled slightly as his thumb brushed against the worry between your brows, smoothing it away with three deliberate strokes before cupping your cheek.

“We’re all fond of you,” he said softly, his voice carrying the weight of a truth you hadn’t expected. His thumb grazed the high point of your cheekbone, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. “James and Remus too.”

Your lips parted, but no words came. You looked up at him, helpless in the face of his sincerity.

Leaning in Sirius pressed a featherlight kiss to your forehead, just above where his thumb had worked to erase your doubts. His lips lingered there, a gentle promise wrapped in silence. 

“Come meet us tomorrow?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “James has tutoring at ten in the library. Join us around noon?”

“I wouldn’t want to impose—”

He laughed, this time with more ease, more warmth. “You could never impose. I promise you that.”

He stepped back, his hand slipping from your face only to catch yours, his long fingers curling around your palm. “I’ll see you then, my lady?” he asked, bowing theatrically as he pressed a kiss to your knuckles.

You glanced down, shy beneath his gaze. “If my duties permit… I suppose I could,” you replied, your voice a tad quieter than you intended.

“Perfect.” His grin widened, bright and mischievous, as he pressed another quick kiss to your hand before letting it fall to your side. “Thank you… for tonight,” he added, his tone softening.

You smiled back at him, the warmth in your chest spreading to your limbs. “You’re always welcome. Now, get back to your room safely.” you said, attempting a stern tone that didn’t quite suit you.

He chuckled, the sound light and genuine. “I’m a knight, remember? I think I can handle the walk back to my room.”

You waved him off, shaking your head. “Even knights need to be careful.”

He was still laughing as he disappeared through the doorway, leaving the room quiet once more.

Settling onto the edge of your bed, you couldn’t help but replay the evening in your mind. What might have happened had you simply stayed in bed instead of chasing after him?

It didn’t matter. 

All that mattered was that you’d been there when he needed someone.

With a contented sigh, you shifted to lie down, reaching for your blankets— only to find nothing. The linens still sat on the chair where Sirius had been wrapped in them moments before.

“Damn it,” you muttered, though the frustration in your voice was softened by the smile tugging at your lips.

tag list: @amatoanima @wolfstar4everbitches @bugworldsworld @ilovejamespottersomuch @garden-h0bbit @dearmy-diary @yejiswifex @bmyva1entine @emerald-jade1 @singmyaubade @miliokumura3 @amandinhagg

[sturnioz]

♯┆fully introducing. . . shy!chris .ᐟ

shy!chris does have a big mouth, and he likes to boast about all the women that he's fucked with confidence — so why did he turn into a stuttering mess when you finally have him?

"yeah, and like, she was all over me, man — couldn't get enough of me, i swear to god... and then—"

you half-listen as chris boast about his recent hook-up to your shared group of friends, swirling your plastic straw around your drink, hearing the ice clink against the glass in a distant chime. leaning forwards, elbows resting on the table, you take a sip while glancing up at chris, watching as his hands fly through the air, punctuating his words as he tries to paint a vivid picture of his wild night.

the others around the table are completely captivated, their mouths agape, eyes wide with a mix of disbelief and excitement. they gasp, laugh, and lean in closer, hanging on his every word. now and then, they playfully slap his back or shoulder, egging him on as he basks in the attention. listen in intently, mouths agape, eyes wide, gasping and laughing at his choice of words, even slapping his back and shoulder as he boasts.

honestly? you find it hard to believe him.

sure, chris is extremely attractive — his messy hair, striking smile, pearly whites, and a charm that easily draws people in. it wouldn't exactly be shocking if he was meeting girls. but the sheer number he claims to get into his bed, and the way he describes the way he fucks, it just doesn't add up.

he always blushes whenever you and the girls in your group wear revealing outfits or bikinis during beach trips, his eyes always darting away as if he's trying to hide from them. that shy, stuttering awkwardness feels worlds apart from the confident persona he projects during these apparent hook-up talks.

"who is she?" you find yourself chiming into the conversation, not missing the way chris' body seems to tense up for a moment before forcing smiling, shaking his head.

"i uh, i don't know. some girl i met at a party. i.. don't remember the names of one-night stands, y'know? doesn't.. doesn't make sense if i do, right?" chris looks around at the others for their approval, and some nod their heads with a hum. "as long as i gave her a good time, which i did, that's all the matters—"

"you went to a party?" the words slip out before you can stop yourself. you know you should ease off, especially if it risks making a complete fool out of him, but you can't stop. "when?"

"like... last weekend, yeah," chris nods, almost as if he's confirming it for himself. you hum softly, and chris fidgets in his seat, turning to face you fully, raising his eyebrow. "do you.. do you not believe me, or somethin'?"

"no, i'm just... curious," you reply with a grin, teeth biting down on the straw in your drink. chris stares at you for a moment, processing your words, before forcing out a laugh that feels a bit strained.

"curious about my sex life?" chris huffs, nudging a friend beside him with a playful elbow. "she wants proof, kid. wants to see how good this dick is—"

"actually, yeah," you cut in, your voice steady. chris freezes up, his eyes widening in surprise as the others at the table gape at you, their expressions a mix of shock and amusement.

you know you should probably stop now, but something inside you urges to push back. you want to challenge him, and playing with his little jab feels like the only way to do that.

you lean back in your seat, arms crossed, a smirk playing on your lips as you continue, "i want to know how great you claim to be in bed."

now, you didn't expect to chris to actually nod his head and go through with it — acting all smug and confident in front of your friends. it was clear he took what you said as a joke, and that irked you a little bit, so you stand up from the table, telling him to leave the diner with you right now. chris is stunned again, blinking rapidly as if he couldn't quite process your sudden demand, and a light blush creeps across his cheeks as he laughs nervously, standing up and following you out.

and what you also didn't expect was for chris to be laid out beneath you, his bangs sticking to his sweaty forehead, eyebrows scrunched together in pleasure and plush lips parted with heavy gasps as you ride him, the blankets bunched loose around your waist. his cock does hit all the right places, and truthfully it feels extremely good, but you're pleased to see how much of a stuttering mess he is as his hands grip your thighs, jumbled words leaving his lips.

"oh ffuuuck.. jus' — ah... shit. l-like that, please. oh god... you're so — this feels — you feel... oh shit shit shit. m'sorry.. not gonna last. god, you're fuckin' amazing."

© STURNIOZ

[marvelnatr]

Training

Warnings: Daddy!Nat, Sub!reader, humiliation, brat!tamer Nat, impact play, mocking, strap on, cock warming, breeding kink, cum filled strap, pussy spanking, spanking, bratting, oral fixation, office setting.

Summary: you continue to fail to complete your mission reports correctly. Fury has tried multiple times to get the teammates to teach you how to complete them and you cannot follow simple orders, he’s told that during your teachings you have a cocky attitude. So he places you in an office with Nat till you can get your act together.

Feel free to join my marvel discord geared to this kind of writing! Its in my pinned master list. If the link doesn’t work let me know darlings. I don’t bite <3

Your POV:

Walking into the office Natasha looked up at me, her eyebrow cocking as she stayed leaned over her desk “excuse you?” I watched her slightly confused “what? I’m supposed to be here at nine am and its nine ten” Natasha nodded “yes you’re late. But also have some manners and knock on my office door before you come in” I nodded a bit with an eye roll and started to cross the threshold, Natashas voice stopped me in my tracks “so turn around and try again”. Looking up at her I nodded and turned around, closing the door and knocking again. Natasha gently opened the door “come in”. Nodding I walked in the door and looked at Natasha, she pointed to the chair near her desk “sit” rolling my eyes again I sat down. I’m not a fucking dog. I felt Nats eyes on me, the door clicked shut and the sound of her heels getting closer to my chair till I felt her brush by me as she sat down “so you’ve been having some problems with your mission reports?” I shook my head “they’re fine. Fury is just being picky” Natasha looked up at me “his name to you is Director, I know for a fucking fact you and him are not on first name basis. Do I make myself clear?” Swallowing a little I nodded as Nat watched me “no, you’re going to give me a verbal confirmation” watching her I sat forward and spoke, allowing my attitude to lace my voice “okay”, Natasha’s eyes found mine, the second we made eye contact I had realized I may have sounded a little too bold. Natasha calmly spoke “okay what?” I watched her, backing down a little “o-okay yes ma’am”. I received a simple nod from her and sat there in silence while she finished up her work.

After fifteen minutes I looked at her “okay what the fuck am I doing here? Cause if I’m just gonna sit here I’m leaving” Natasha looked at me “you will be patient Y/N” pouting I sat back and watched her work. This went on for around another thirty minutes before she looked at me “okay, what was the last mission you did” I looked at her and sat up “fucking finally” shooting a glare at me she growled a little “watch your fucking mouth, I am here to help you, so drop the fucking attitude” ignoring her statement I pulled out my computer and pulled up the mission report. I felt her lean over my shoulder as she looked at my report and scoffed “no wonder fury wont take this, its messy” I looked at her “excuse you?” Natasha cocked her eyebrow at me “I didn’t stutter did I?” Shutting up a little I rolled my eyes and thought of a quick snarky comeback “so what’s wrong with it then if you’re so fucking smart” I guess that was it. That’s what snapped her. Within seconds I was turned and facing her, her green eyes piercing into mine

Natasha’s POV:

Wrapping my hand around her throat Y/N left out a little gasp, her eyes widening as her legs squeezed together. I laughed a little and mocked “oh, I see, you just needed to be choked out a little didn’t you?” Y/N’s knuckles turned white as she squirmed “n-no” I laughed at her, tutting “oh detka, poor little thing. How I’d love to fuck you but you need an attitude adjustment” I let go of her neck with a little push and looked at her “rewrite it. Again. Stop beating around the bush and write it” Y/N pouted “b-but I don’t know how” I grabbed her jaw and made her look at me “you’re a smart little girl, you’ll figure it out” a pout formed on her lips as she looked at her computer and started typing. Nodding I sat back down at my desk. Y/N’s legs were squeezed shut as she typed. She would look up at me on occasion, her eyes begged me to fuck her as her pupils were blown with lust. Smirking at her I shook my head “focus on your work darling”

Y/N continued with her work. I decided it was time to fuck around with her a little, my fingers made their way to my button up shirt, slowly undoing the first three buttons to reveal my cleavage. Y/N’s eyes had been trained on my chest for a solid two minutes now. I laughed a little “what’s got you distracted darling?” Y/N swallowed hard and shook her head “nothing”. I slowly got up and leaned over the desk, my chest close to her face “try again detka” Y/N looked up at me, her eyes filled with anticipation as I leaned over her. The younger woman shakily inhaled and swallowed thick, as he spoke weakly “n-nothing miss” nodding I turned her computer to me “lets see how much progress you’ve made shall we love”. Looking over her work I tutted, she really hasn’t changed a thing. She’s made advances but hasn’t done much. I looked at her “this really isn’t any better dorogoy, are you really that dumb that you can’t put together a simple report? I know you’re so much smarter then this” a whine fell from her lips “I don’t get it, this is such bullshit!” Cocking my eyebrow at her I warned her “watch your mouth” Y/N looked at me with that same bratty look “fucking make me” laughing I leaned in closer “I will”. Her eyes widened as I sat down in my chair and patted my lap “come bring your computer and sit” Y/N rolled her eyes “no, I’m not a fucking child” I chuckled “you sure are acting like one” she quickly shot me a look and stupidly defended herself “I am not!” I scoffed at her “you are, just like a spoiled fucking brat if you ask me” huffing Y/N sat back in her chair, folding her arms and turning away from me just as a pouting child would. I laughed and mumbled “my point proven”

After about fifteen minutes she grumbled “I would like to leave now” I nodded while typing “you can after you finish your report” Y/N groaned “but I don’t fucking know what to do to fix it!” Looking over at her I spoke calmly, probably pissing her off even more “I offered to help you darling, and you wouldn’t take it. But the offer is still there. When you can drop your ego and come and sit in my lap like a good girl I can help you” she shook her head and spat “in your fucking dreams” I laughed and nodded “your choice then darling”

After a few more minutes she realized I wasn’t giving in. I heard her movements to grab her computer and find her way over to me. Looking over at her I saw her eyes watching my lap. Leaning back I gave her room to sit down, Y/N shuffled over to me pouting as I took her computer from her and allowed her to sit in my lap. Tucking some hair behind her ear I whispered “this isn’t so bad is it?” Shifting to get comfy she grumbled, her eyebrows furrowed in frustration “this sucks” I laughed a little and held her waist “don’t hurt my feelings now darling. Stop pretending you don’t like it”. A red tint fell over her cheeks as she cuddled into me and I smiled “that’s a good girl. Now, look at your screen”. I adjusted Y/N so she could see her screen and her eyes widened at me, I knew it was only time before she felt my strap in my pants, I laughed a little and mocked in her ear “so distracted darling, are you okay?”. A blush tinted her cheeks red as she nodded “y-yes da- ma’am”, I smirked “oh no baby say what you were gonna say”. Y/N squirmed in my lap as she mumbled, I held her hips and stilled her movements “speak up detka”. She pushed her head into my chest “y-yes d-daddy”. I groaned a little and held her hips down “such a good girl, there we go, finally learning your place”, the girl shot a glare at me and I smacked her thigh “nuh uh little girl, knock it off”, her eyes rolled as she spat “fucking make me”.

My hand quickly wrapped around her throat as I stood her up, quickly laying her flat over my desk then landing a harsh smack to her ass “that’s it, enough of the attitude”, Y/N gasped and moaned a little. Chuckling I tutted “such a fucking slut, is this what you want? You want me to spank you?” I spanked her again and stuck my fingers in her mouth “you just want to get punished thats all, want me to make you my little bitch”. I continued to land harsh spanks to her ass, the crimson red color was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. You could see the slight outlines of my rings from the impact on her sore ass. Y/N was whimpering and crying a little, drooling all over my desk. I laughed “awww my poor little girl, you can give but you cant take? But you look so pretty for me. You ass all red while you make a mess all over my desk. Those pretty little tears don’t mean shit to me princess”

I watched as she squirmed, an unmistakable wet patch forming on her panties. Kicking her legs apart I gently pushed my palm on her cunt “mmmm so wet for me babygirl” Y/N moaned and whined, her legs closing around my hands. I smacked her cunt and looked up at her “you do not close your legs when I touch you, do you understand little girl?” She nodded and moaned “y-yes daddy” pushing my hand against her cunt I spoke again “I said do you understand?”, moaning a bit louder she fixed her sentence “y-yes daddy I understand” smirking I whispered in her ear “panties off and lay on the couch”. Y/N scrambled to the couch taking off her panties. I locked the office door and headed over to her. I rubbed her thighs gently “open your legs detka”, her legs quickly fell open and I groaned “you’re fucking soaked babygirl“ a red tint formed on her cheeks as I trailed my finger along her cunt “so you can follow orders, shocking”. Y/N snapped her legs shut “oh fuck off”. I cocked my eyebrow at her lowering my voice to a growl “what did you just say to me Y/N?”, her eyes went wide as her face turned white. Fear and anticipation flooded her eyes as I tutted “what am I going to do with you huh little girl?” I watched as she swallowed thick, standing up I leaned over her and grabbed her neck “lets see…I could edge you…or I could spank your poor little cunt….and I could just completely leave you without touching you” Y/N quickly protested to my last suggestion, a pleading whine falling from her lips “no daddy please! Please don’t leave me like this!”. I laughed at her “and what makes you think you’re in any position to tell me what to do with you darling? Where on earth did you get that thought?”

Dead silence fell over the room. Y/N’s pupils blown with lust and fear as she squirmed. I chuckled at her squeezing her neck tighter and pulling her closer to my face “come on slut speak up”, the younger woman gasped and rambled out “I-I dont! y-you’re in charge daddy”. Smiling I nodded “that’s right detka, daddy is is charge. Here’s what’s gonna happen” I trailed my hand down to her cunt as I spoke, allowing my accent to lace my voice a little more “you’re going to lay here and hold yourself open while daddy spanks this pretty little cunt five times for your misconduct. Do I make myself clear?” Y/N moaned and nodded “y-yes daddy you made yourself clear”

Y/N spread herself open, I smirked at her “so wet”, leaning down I hovered my face just above her cunt, my breath falling over her cunt making her twitch as I smiled “oh this is gonna be so much fucking fun” pushing my palm onto her heated core I kissed her gently then landed a semi harsh smack. Y/N yelped and moaned as I gently rubbed “you know what to do darling”. The girl swallowed thick, her chest rising and falling as she attempted to catch her breath “o-one thank you daddy”. Smiling I nodded and spanked her pussy again. I received the same reaction as the last. Y/N jolting slightly at the impact on her already swollen cunt from being so needy. I looked in her eyes as she counted again “two t-thank you daddy”. Nodding I finished the next three. Rubbing her pussy gently I groaned “so red and puffy now darling, you look so pretty like this” a blush fell over her cheeks and I chuckled “so shy, why did I punish you baby?” Y/N whispered gently “b-because I closed my legs while you were touching me” I nodded and rubbed “and is that polite?”, blushing further she shook her head “no daddy”. I smiled and kissed her knee “good girl. Now, you need to finish your report”. Immediately she whined “I don’t wanna!” I folded my arms “tell you what, you do the report and you get to cockwarm daddy as you work” Y/N bit her lip eagerly nodding “deal!”

Laughing I walked over to the desk and sat down. Y/N watched me as she rubbed her legs together, I patted my lap “come on darling, you’re so soaked you’ll be just fine”. She turned beet red as she straddled me and sunk gently down on my strap. Her cunt swallowing every inch of the thick toy as her mouth fell open in a silent moan. It was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen and I couldn’t wait to breed her. To claim her and make her mine. I rested my hands on her hips and whispered praises “come on babygirl, just a little more. You can take it. I know you can” her eyes watched mine as she whimpered “you’re so big daddy, it wont fit” I laughed a little and rubbed her waist “oh darling. It’ll fit, daddy will help you”. She nodded as I lightly fucked up into her. My entire length buried into her cervix as she moaned “f-fucking hell” rubbing her hips gently I praised “thats it, such a good girl, you’ve done so well for me baby” she smiled and I patted her cheek “now get to work”

Y/N worked on her report as I looked over a file. Every so often I would check on her to see her progress. I could feel her arousal coating my thighs. The heat radiating off her core. Sometimes she would shift and moan from the sensation of the strap moving inside her. After thirty minutes she had finally finished. I put my file down and leaned forward, moving in her again. Y/N moaned as I rubbed her thigh to calm her and read over her report. I smiled and gripped her thigh a little “thats more like it baby, you do know what to do you just wanted to cookie cut it” Y/N pouted and bratted a little “did not!”. Quickly I smacked her thigh “no ma’am, no more of that” the girl whimpered “s-sorry daddy”. My hips involuntary bucked up, causing me to fuck into her. It was a pure reaction to the honorific falling from her lips. I received a moan from her in return, groaning I whispered in her ear “I could listen to those pretty little sounds all day” Y/N whimpered “please fuck me daddy, I-I can’t wait anymore”

Quickly picking her up I brought her over to the couch, my strap staying buried in her the entire time. I rested her down on the couch, her back hitting the leather cushions. I moan fell from her lips as my cock moved inside of her “oh baby be a good girl and let daddy fuck you hm? I know you’ve been craving this from the second you looked at me”. Y/N whimpered and nodded as I started fucking into her “that’s it, good girl detka”. Quickly grabbing a hold of the leather she moaned “f-fucking hell daddy you’re so big” I laughed a little and kept fucking her “I know darling”. Y/N’s head threw back as her eyes closed, I slapped her tit “ah ah, no little girl, you look daddy in the eyes while she’s fucking you. I want to memorize exactly what you look like when you’re falling apart under me”

Y/N’s eyes shot open again as she watched me, I nodded and slipped my fingers into her mouth, lightly making her gag which in turn made her clench around my strap. She quickly got the understanding to suck and begun swirling her tongue around my fingers. My digits muffling her moans as her teary eyes watched me. I smiled and mocked her “look at you, drooling all over yourself as I fuck your tight little pussy. You look fucking pathetic darling. I’m glad you’re found a better use for that pretty mouth of yours rather than bratting”. At this point she was too busy to complain, to dumb fucked out to argue. Fucking into her harder I groaned “fuck pup you look so pretty like this”. She moaned loud and bucked her hips, I cocked my eyebrow at her “you like that one huh? You want daddy to breed this sweet little pussy? To claim you?”. A babbled yes fell from her mouth around my fingers. I smirked and fucked into her harder “fuck thats my good girl”

Y/N’s legs started to shake, I took my fingers out of her mouth “you ask for permission to cum detka” her moans grew louder “p-please daddy please can I cum?” I groaned and nodded “fuck babygirl cum for me, gonna fill you up, make my cum drip from that pretty little cunt”. I gripped her legs and spread them wider as she came. Fully bottoming out inside her I came with her. Filling her cunt as she screamed a little “h-holy fucking shit daddy!” I laughed as I kissed her cheek “such a good girl for me, now everyone in the office knows who’s screwing you”, Y/N’s face tinted red as I stroked her cheek “it’s okay darling, you’re mine now”

As her breathing slowed I gently pulled out, some of the cum dripping from her cunt as it spilled on the couch. Chuckling I rubbed her thighs “such a messy girl”. I went into my private bathroom and wet a washcloth, coming back I kissed her inner thigh “may I dove?”. Y/N nodded all floaty, I melted at her relaxed face and fucked out body. While I cleaned her up I spoke “no more of the bratty attitude okay baby?” Y/N nodded and whispered “okay daddy”. I smiled softly at her and gently put her panties back on and grabbed one of my blankets from my storage ottoman, wrapping her up in it as I picked her up and held her in my arms “that’s my good girl, you can rest now darling”

Y/N cuddled into my neck and closed her eyes. While she dozed off I rubbed some cream on her ass, admiring the indentation of my rings on her red flesh for a few seconds. Kissing her head I sat down and continued to do some of my work, doing my best not to wake the sleeping angel in my lap.

[hiraethwrote]

flufftober: grasping fingetips

pairing: satoru gojo x f!reader summary: small collection of moments, where you and satoru are unable to not feel the touch of the other cw: major fluff, like borderline too much fluff, pda, established relationship, marriage, wedding, reader is smaller than satoru, no use of y/n word count: 2.2k

Always touching.

Never apart.

One would think the longer you and Satoru were together, the puppy love and clinginess would eventually wear off — it never did.

It might have something to do with the world you both lived in, which was definitely merciless at times. As Jujutsu sorcerers, it definitely took more than it gave. So there was nothing more grounding than the touch of the person you loved the most in the world.

“It’s not supposed to last more than three days. I’ll be home again before you know it,” you rushed to explain while you were frantically running around to fix the last few things before you had to leave.

Satoru was anxiously propped up against the wall, always nervous whenever you had to leave for a mission where he wasn’t assigned to help.

“And if something happens?”

His innocent and fragile question had you stop your actions to look at him, arms crossed in front of him, back slightly hunched making him look significantly shorter.

“Nothing’s happened so far, right?” You tried to reassure him, presenting with a weak smile.

He took a visible deep breath, reluctantly nodding his head in agreement. “Mhmm,” he said unconvincingly.

“I have to go now,” you breathed quietly, making your way over to him to place a comforting hand on his cheek, feeling him relax the second you came in contact with his skin. His hand instantly flew up to secure your hand in place.

And you couldn’t help how your head leaned against his chest reactively, slipping your hand away from his face to wrap both arms snuggly around his torso to bath in his warmth.

“Just imagine how nice this will feel after three days,” you hummed, closing your eyes to feel the low chuckle you managed to bring out.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to wait,” his strong arms circling around you.

“You don’t have much choice sadly,” you joked. When you finally felt his raging heart calm down, you slowly dared to pull away.

Loosening your grip, you let your arms slide down until your hands were softly resting in his big ones. “Three days?”

“Three days!” You confirmed. He shook his head, his familiar smile back on his face when he looked at you. And as always, you placed a kiss on his cheek before beginning to pull away, knowing you had to leave within the next five minutes.

For as long as possible, you held onto his hands, grasping at each other’s fingertips until you had to let go.

You barely had the chance to set foot within the premises of Jujutsu Tech before you were nearly tackled to the ground by a figure significantly larger than yourself.

Your arms latched on around him in response, at first you did so instinctively not to fall over — but your embrace quickly turned loving when it hit you it was Satoru who had greeted you so aggressively.

A satisfied hum left him, having been deprived of the feeling of your body for three days — which was definitely three days too long.

He hesitantly pulled his face from crook of your neck to plant a wet kiss on your lips, not pulling away until Yaga’s stern voice called his name from behind him.

“If I could steal her for the debrief-“

“Not a chance,” Satoru muttered breathlessly, barely audible behind the sounds of his peppering kisses.

He did not spare a single thought to the impatient Yaga, his hands finding yours to hold onto your delicate fingertips.

It was always the same at every meeting.

Both sat on the seats in the very back of the room like silly, lovesick teenagers. For the most part, the two of you managed to stay quiet — well, you managed to, at least.

More often than not, he leaned closer to you to whisper some lame comment that would have you swat his leg lightly while chocking back the bubbling giggle that was nearly permanent in your throat.

But like every other meeting, right before the back of your hand would make contact with his thigh, he’d snatch ahold of your it to carefully play with your fingers for the remainder of the meeting.

Quietly zoning out, letting him fiddle with each of your digits, you finally surrendered to the urge in letting your head fall on his shoulder.

Listening to the voices of the meeting, you drifted in and out of a light sleep, Satoru never stopping to play with your fingertips.

If he could be by your side, Satoru definitely would — even though it could be considered highly inconvenient.

Nanami tried not to get too distracted by the fact that Satoru had nearly his entire weight rested against your back, despite not being needed for the conversation whatsoever.

“I’m not sure I’ll be available, they’re sending me out of town again for another mission,” you said in a casual tone, seemingly unbothered by the massive creature on your back.

Nanami cleared his throat, “sending you alone again?”

“What do you think?” Delivering the rhetorical question with an amused and loving smirk, Nanami’s eyes shifting to the koala still latched onto you, just as his entire body raised with a deep sigh.

Carefully you shrugged your shoulder, eventually having reached your limits, knees threatening to give out under you. Though he wasn’t happy about it, he obliged the silent request — but there was no way he was going to not be in contact with you.

So he did what he always did, not even thinking about how his fingers tenderly grasped at yours.

He felt the soft skin of your fingers, not much on his mind other than you. While you continued your conversation, Satoru just had his gaze rested on your hands, your fingers longing to be in contact with him as much as he did yours.

“Where are you going?” You mumbled softly, a yawn escaping you as you grabbed his wrist. In your sleepy haze, you barely managed to peak your eyes open to see he was already dressed and had put his blindfolds on.

“I’m a very desired man,” he teased, feeling his weight sit down on the edge of the bed, your fingers still circling his wrist.

You let out a sad huff. “Higher ups?”

“Afraid so.” His hand slowly stroked your hair.

With small whines, you curled forward to snuggle into his sitting frame, nuzzling your face into his thigh. “Do they have no respect for the importance of sleeping next to your partner?” You heard a low laugh as he continued to stroke the back of your head.

“Nah, that would require someone having to put up with them.” You wanted to laugh, try to enjoy the few moments you had before he would leave you alone in the bed that was way too big for one person.

He felt your grip tighten. “Please stay.”

You were his one and only weakness, wanting nothing more than to lay back down beside you, share the warmth as he felt your breathing fall into a steady pace of sleep.

“Wait,” you spoke again before he had the chance to respond. You knew Satoru, through and through, and he would end up doing as you asked — which would end up punishing the both of you in the long run. The higher ups would be on his and your neck, and suddenly you would both be stuck on missions where you’d be cursed to spend even more time apart. “Forget it.”

“Come again?” He said in disbelief.

“We know what will happen if you don’t go.” Though your words came out muffled against his leg, he managed to make out what you said — and also what you meant.

He took a deep breath through the nose, pressing a kiss on your temple before begrudgingly getting back on his feet — only for him to not be able to stand up fully, tugged back by your never wavering grip on him. “You kinda have to let go in order for me to leave, sweetheart.” You heard how he was trying to force his cheerful persona to show, but his true feelings shined through.

Without another word, only a displeased huff, you loosened your grip and letting his hand start to slip out of yours, eventually losing touch with his fingertips.

“Is this really necessary?” He asked smugly, hands resting on your waist, stopping you from leaving the apartment.

“It’s tradition, Satoru-“

“Tradition has never been my style,” the smile still lingering as he leaned forward to press an oh so tempting little peck, nearly having you surrender to his request.

“It’s also bad luck!” You argued, managing to pull your head back.

He scoffed. “Let the bad luck come, I am the strongest after all-.”

“Satoru,” you whined when he leaned in once again, having you reach far within yourself to resist the urges.

“Yes?” Teasingly smiling at you.

“It’s one night.”

There was nothing you hated more than spending a night away from Satoru, especially when you had no particular reason not to. There was no hiding the fact that you just felt safer in his presence, which always helped you sleep better.

Peeling your arms away from around his neck, initially planning on getting your stuff and start backing away towards the exit, but your hands had other plans. They found his strong fingers in an instant, letting your arms hang between you.

“Guess this is another one of those times where I don’t have a choice?”

“You’re learning,” you teased, mouth hanging open in feigned surprise, earning you a squeeze of the hand.

“Watch it,” he laughed along, placing one last kiss on the tip of your nose before he finally allowed you to start your departure.

And your goodbye went how it always did — one last kiss on the cheek, outstretched arms, holding onto each other as long as you could before you eventually had to let go of each other’s fingertips.

Satoru was unable to contain himself, anxious but excited nerves filling his entire being, waiting for you to talk down that isle.

His fingers were itching to feel you again. Though it had only been a little under 24 hours since he had last seen you, it had felt like an eternity when such a future was right around the corner.

And finally, you made yourself known, standing in the most beautiful gown with an array of colourful flowers in your hands — if it was even possible, Satoru grew more restless, watching as you approached, his smile stretching further across his face the closer you got.

The second you were stood directly opposite him, you handed over the bouquet to your maid of honour and grabbed his hands, which were hovering in the air between you, already waiting for your touch.

“You okay?” He whispered, the tiniest shimmer flashing in his eyes.

You nodded eagerly, barely able to stand as the day you had waited for with much anticipation, had finally arrived. “You?”

“I’m great. You look beautiful.” His voice remained low, leaving the conversation private for just the two of you.

Both of you wallowed in the euphoric wedding bliss, feeling as you might as well be the only two people in the room. All the moments you’d shared along the way, both good and bad, leading up to this moment where you would just get to unabashedly celebrate the love you shared.

His eyes, always so kind, gazing at you as if you were the only person in the world to him — no, not just that, but his sole purpose. Tenderly letting his thumbs travel across your knuckles, leaving trails of tingling sparks in the touch’s memory.

“You may now kiss the-“ the sentence never even came out in full before Satoru had swooped your frame into his arms, placing the long-awaited sign of his devotion on your plush lips, all your friends and family erupting in wild cheers.

People, who would always look the other way when the two of you indulged in your usual intense display of affection, were drying the corners of their eyes as you walked hand in hand down the decorated isle.

And for the entire evening, no one ever saw you apart. If people didn’t know any better, they would think you were sewn together.

When participating in small talk with guests together, he had his hand on your waist to pull you as close to him as possible, while you had a hand on his chest, constant light fiddling with the hem of his suit jacket.

But eventually you would end up in conversations with different people — but it still seemed impossible for you to let go of each other. Satoru was annoying talking to Nanami, left arm fully extended to hold onto your dainty fingertips. Your right arm, also extended as far as humanly possible, participating in a conversation separated from your husband.

It never fades away.

Through thick and thin, feeling the other skin against one’s own, even if it’s just the briefest touch of grasping fingertips, was always something you sought to seek safety.

Always touching.

Never apart.

taglist @sad-darksoul

a/n just a cute little something. it's not my best work, but i just needed some satoru fluff bc i miss him dearly yk, and @/spookuna's flufftober event gave me some inspiration <3

©hiraethwrote 2024 . all rights reserved. reposting, translating and otherwise plagarisim is prohibited

[midnight-els]

It is a truth universally acknowledged that the West Wing would have been even better if they'd had a White House cat. Some headcanons bc I was thinking about it today:

Jed gave the cat a very grand, biblical name. Everyone else has shortened it to something very stupid.

Obviously all of the press and the public adore the cat. There's a minor upset in a polling themed episode when Joey confirms that once again the cat has higher approval ratings than the president. Josh is cross that they are polling on this at all.

There is one chair in the Oval Office that is The Cat's Chair. The staff know not to sit there as you'll get a. covered in fur and b. screamed at by an irate cat trying to force you off. They never warn any of their least favourite congresspeople about this.

The cat wanders around in the background of episodes, often being chased or petted by the extras.

The cat is not allowed in the situation room. The cat is always in the situation room. They had to come up with a special bug detecting protocol for the cat in case anyone tried to take advantage of this.

Ripped from the headlines plot about a congressional investigation into something related to the cat, based on the incident about Clinton's cat's postage.

The cat LOVES Air Force One. The Secret Service do not love having to get him on board or captured to get back off.

Leo and the cat are best friends. They're basically this meme. Leo's the grandma. Jed is the mom.

Aside from Leo, the cat loves the secretaries best. They always have lots of treats for him in their desks. Debbie is the only one he doesn't get on with; she has resorted to using a plant mister to spray him when he tries to get on her desk.

Josh thinks he and the cat are archenemies. The cat hasn't paid more than 2 seconds notice to Josh in his life.

CJ and the cat are archenemies. CJ was very pro-cat until she caught it fishing in Gail's bowl one day. Now she's at war to keep it out of her office. She's still trying to convince Danny to write a piece exposing the cat's dark side to its adoring public. Carol is very tired.

Sam wants so badly to be best friends with the cat. The cat thinks he's trying too hard. Will ends up exactly the same way.

Toby and the cat have never properly interacted and both are very happy to leave it that way.

The cat is supposed to stay in the residence during big events. Abbey stopped enforcing that after he got out and scratched Lord John Marbury when he picked him up against his will.

The cat has a secret service code name. One time, the code names are changed and an overenthusiatic reporter tries to break a story on the first lady's 'unusual activity' by following what he thinks is her code name. It's the cat's. CJ dines out on this for weeks.

The cat occasionally goes missing. The secretaries and Charlie have a recurring B-plot where they have to go and recover him. Somehow, the cat has always ended up somewhere relevant to the A-plot.

The cat properly goes missing after the incidents with the Thanksgiving turkeys and the goat in CJ's office (aka prime cat territory). Each time she claims she'll be nicer to the cat when it returns. Each time it lasts about two days.

Margaret thinks the cat has psychic powers and frequently provides warnings based on her interpretations of 'the signs'. Usually she's right.

The cat somehow makes off with the final edits for the state of the union one time (of course they were only handwritten on one piece of paper). Chaos ensues.

Jed tries to send the cat to Manchester partway through the series. After large-scale outcry from the staff, press and public he is returned to the White House. Unfortunately, after a couple of months as a barn cat he is even more badly behaved than before.

The cat is in both Jed and Abbey's official portraits.

[lockefanfic]

Truth

The following can be considered an alternate ending to the Business Trip series - although it can just as easily be read on its own. :)

---

The first few weeks together as an official couple were wonderful. Honeymoon phase and all that. Moving in together, domestic bliss. Fucking like rabbits, of course. But problems arose - became noticeable, and then unavoidable. Two of them, actually.

Problem 1: Your job.

Problem 2: Her job.

---

Problem 1: You’d thought business trips were a thing of the past. They weren’t.

You were happy to put the little adventure you’d had in Seoul and Tokyo behind you. Since then you’d done your best to decline any opportunities to engage in similar trips - feigning illness, sending underlings in your place, handling as many meetings as you could remotely. These days your life consisted of long, sometimes draining days at the office - a far cry from the brushes with danger and law enforcement that characterized your most recent trip overseas. Your days at work were boring and mundane now, but you were at home, and that was what mattered.

Home, after all, was where she was.

Regardless, the allure of another trip still came calling every now and then, tempting you, enticing you into spending a couple of weeks or months overseas where anything could - and sometimes did - happen. 

Sometimes that allure took physical form. Sometimes it came waltzing into your office wearing a tight blouse and a pencil skirt. Sometimes it was named Shin Ryujin. Other days it was named Hwang Yeji, or Lee Chaeryeong. Today, as with most days, it was named Shin Yuna.

“Ryujin and Yeji are on-site in Busan, and Chaeryeong is in Seoul, waiting for her flight to join them. Lia sustained injuries in our last operation and isn’t medically cleared for this one, but she’s recovering well. Ryujin has begin surveillance on our competitors’ teams - codenamed New Jeans and Le Sserafim - and she is ready to proceed with next steps once you arrive,” Yuna says, eagerness evident in the tone of her moderately Korean-accented english. “Shall I make travel arrangements for us to join them?”

For the first time since she walked into your office you look up from the reports on your laptop. You don’t miss the small bite the young woman is giving her lower lip, nor the way she has crossed her legs and begun leaning her wide hips against your desk. It takes more restraint than you were willing to admit not to steal a glance at her long pantyhose-clad legs and the tight charcoal pencil skirt they led to. You find the self-control to keep eye contact with your eager young executive assistant, even if her body language and tone of voice made her intentions clear and easy to read.

“Give me a second to finish reviewing Ryujin’s report,” you answer, returning your full attention to the screen in front of you. “I’ll confirm whether I need to be on-site by end of day, and if so you can make the necessary arrangements then.” 

Despite her best efforts, Yuna can’t hide the small twinge of disappointment that makes its way across her soft features. She’d been looking forward to the thirteen hour flight with you and the opportunities it would present.

“Oh, and…” she begins, her tone a little less upbeat now that you’d at least temporarily dampened her excitement. “You have a visitor. It’s Detective-”

“Let her in,” you interrupt. Yuna frowns, offers a short bow - a lingering habit from her Korean upbringing - and steps back toward the door to your office. She swings it open, and you catch the look of disdain on her features when she waves in your visitor.

Im Nayeon pushes past Yuna and into the office. She gives Yuna a sharp look as she passes the younger woman, and even from your chair you can sense the venom in it. The detective sits down in the chair opposite your desk, legs and arms crossed. She is dressed plainly, in a short denim skirt and a leather jacket, the glimmer of her badge on a chain around her neck the only clue as to her profession. She drops a large paper bag onto your desk.

“Please let me know if you need anything else, sir-”

“That will be all, Yuna,” you answer. 

Before your executive assistant has a chance to close the door, Nayeon turns her head and squeezes in one last shot.

“Cancel his next hour, Miss-” 

“My name is Yuna,” the young woman at the door answers, crossing her arms, scowl painted on her lips.

“Whatever,” Nayeon retorts, flatly. “Clear his schedule for the next hour. Oh, and do be a dear and lock the door.”

Out of the corner of your eye you catch two things - the barely restrained scoff on Yuna’s lips, and the satisfied sneer on Nayeon’s. With one last look of scorn directed at the back of the detective’s head, the younger Korean woman closes the door with a little more force than was necessary. The click of the lock engaging follows shortly after, as does the heavier than usual click-clack of her heels as she stomps away in obvious irritation.

“You have a thing for executive assistants with hips,” Nayeon observes. “Although this one’s much more of a brat than the last one.”

“Be nice,” you say, although you can’t keep the smirk from appearing on your lips as you continue to scroll through the report on your laptop. “She grew up in Korea, so she’s useful whenever I’m in-country. And she’s not a bad person.”

“I know,” Nayeon relents. “But the more of a cunt I am to her, the more she gets off on being a little fucktoy for you. I bet she gets off on thinking that you’re fucking her without me knowing. I bet it makes her so wet.”

Your smirk turns into a slim smile, and it becomes difficult to keep your eyes on the report in front of you.

“Am I wrong?” she contests.

“No,” you admit, finally turning to give her your full attention. “In fact, I’m about to hop on a plane with her to Korea in a couple of days. I expect it will be an… eventful flight.”

“Good,” Nayeon states, satisfied. “I bet she’ll be a good little girl for you, now that she’s received another reminder of how much you need some time away from your queen bitch of a girlfriend.”

She smiles - this one warm, soft - the smile that caught you in its clutches all those years ago and never let go. She turns momentarily to face the door.

“Oh, yeah, baby, fuck, you’re so big in me, fuck me! Fuck, this is the best dick I’ve ever had!” she exclaims in faux-pleasure, ensuring she was loud enough for the exasperated executive assistant sitting just outside your door to hear. You couldn’t help but chuckle.

“We can fuck at home later. I just wanted to piss her off,” Nayeon admits, a sly smile on her lips. “Anyway, pull up House of the Dragon?”

“Already on it,” you answer, swinging your laptop screen around so you can both watch. Nayeon pulls containers of take-out sushi from the paper bag.

She swaps your salmon for her tamago.

She leans over your desk as she passes you your chopsticks. She gives you a warm kiss, and the smile she leaves on your lips stays there for the rest of the day.

---

Even after all these years, she never tired of the collar and its leash.

It was showing signs of wear, of course - the bright fire engine red had faded into a softer, paler shade, the chain was no longer as shiny, and there was more than one set of her teeth marks on it from particularly frisky sessions - but she never missed a chance to put it on when the mood struck, and you never missed a chance to put it on her.

For now you are content to let the chain dangle freely in your left hand, watching the light streaming in from the open window as it plays on its metallic links. The chain glimmers in the morning light against her pale, creamy skin, swaying and occasionally bouncing along with her movements.

The chair you are sitting on protests with the weight and movement the both of you make atop it. Her soft sighs and gasps - a far cry from the loud shouts and moans you knew she was well capable of - happily cancel out the furniture’s squeaking protests as she rides you atop it. Soft, sensual, slow. The perfect fuck for a perfect morning.

You do your best to just sit there and savour the moment, letting Nayeon do all the work as she grinded back and forth on your lap. As much as you enjoyed watching her bounce up and down atop you, taking your full length in and out of her body - taking special delight in the delicious bounce it gave her breasts and thighs - there was something to be said for the intimacy of the way she was riding you now, slowly and softly. It gave her a chance to grind her slick, swollen clit against your crotch, and while it only let a third or so of your cock slip in and out of her hot, slippery cunt with each entry and exit, each movement nonetheless caused a warm spike of pleasure to course up your spine as your cock moves around inside her.

She was so beautiful, so utterly ethereal and intensely erotic all at the same time - clothed simultaneously in perfect golden sunlight and slick sweat, saliva, and other fluids. She was ethereal beauty and dirty sex. She wore both, was utterly enrapturing in both, was equally comfortable in both.

You watch each movement of her body - a body you knew well, knew every peak and curve and valley of - and you never tired of it. You watch as her round, full thighs flex and work, as her tight core drives her lower body back and forth, as her small, perfect breasts sway and bounce. Her face is immaculate, soft features twisted and wracked by pleasure. Sweat glistens over all of it. It makes her perfect skin glisten and glimmer in the sunlight.

You take a moment to look over her shoulder at the dressing mirror behind her, relishing the sight of her back - the beautiful curve of her spine and the sweat dripping down that delicious valley; the round cheeks of her ass and the muscles beneath them as they work to fuck herself on your cock; the short glimpses of your balls as she moves back and forth, takes you in and out of her body. Even her hair, having started the morning pulled into a messy bun, has become disheveled and loose - but in a way that is enticing and alluring, glued to the back of her neck and upper shoulders by perspiration.

Your right hand, resting on her thigh, snakes a path up her body - up her chiselled abs, cupping a soft breast and delighting in the tightness of her nipple as you capture it with your thumb and index finger and give it a pull, a twist, a pinch. Her pussy pulsates in response around you. She is sighing and moaning her pleasure when your hand continues its journey, sliding up a sweaty neck until you reach the side of her face.

Her eyes, shut, drift open at your touch. 

You give the chain a jerk forward.

Her entire upper body crashes against yours at the sudden pull at her neck. Your lips find and capture hers, and for a few moments you share a passionate, heavy kiss. As your tongues duel you give her a slight thrust upward with your hips, timed to meet the apex of her grind - and she sighs into your mouth at the movement, eyes shutting again, nails digging into your shoulders.

Spurred by her reaction, you continue to thrust upward as best you can given your sitting position. Her cunt, already so wet and slick and hot, clenches around you with each thrust, welcoming you, taking you.

“Oh god,” she sighs, the first full words either of you have spoken in a while. “Oh god, I’m close-“

Her sentence breaks into a moan, a soft, wordless cry of pleasure as you continue your thrusts upwards into her body. She wraps her arms around your shoulders, burying your face against her warm, moist chest. You lick the sweat from between her dangling breasts. You savour each moan that leaves her mouth, heavy and hot, directly into your ears.

The chain drops from your left hand, its end falling with a soft clink onto the hardwood floor of your apartment. Forgotten for now, because the faux, pretend-ownership it represented was no longer needed, was perhaps never necessary.

She orgasms around you - pussy clenching, lungs emptying of breath as she cries her pleasure into your bedroom. Your hands find themselves clutching at her moist, sweaty back, hugging her to you, bringing your bodies as close together as possible.

“Your cum, inside me,” she hisses, her voice soft and almost vulnerable in your ear, still at the height of her orgasm. “Please, I want, I need it, please.”

Im Nayeon knew you - knew every part of what made you tick. She knew what you wanted to hear, knew when you wanted to hear it.

You thrust upward into her clenching, creamy cunt one last time. Every part of her body surrounds you, wraps itself around you: she buries your head into her chest, fingers interwoven into your hair, cradling you with her arms and legs as her cunt clenches and tightens around your cock. 

Your shaft spurts warm, thick cum into her. She lets a sigh leave her breathless lips with each pulse of your cock inside her, knowing each one was another rope of cum that would bind your bodies even further together.

Your fluids mix inside her, eventually sliding out between the pussy lips stretched tight around the base of your cock. It drips down your shaft, your balls, and onto the chair. You are sticky everywhere - on your sweaty chests, your slick thighs, but especially where you are joined together, your shaft still embedded hilt deep inside her. You are glued together, made one.

You sigh into her chest, and the nails that had dug furrows into your scalp now stroke it softly. The exhaustion hits you both at once, and for a few wonderful moments the only sound either of you can hear is the sound of heavy breathing.

Her hands eventually slide from your scalp. Her turn now to cradle your face in her hands. Your faces hover in front of each other, noses barely touching, half-lidded, pleasure-ridden eyes locked on one another.

For a moment her left hand moves to her neck, where she undoes and releases the clasp of the red leather collar. It slips from her body and falls to the floor.

“I belong to you,” she says, breathless, not needing some scrap of leather around her neck to convince you of it - not that she ever needed such a thing to begin with. Her hands cradle your face, palms on each cheek, like you are the most delicate thing in the world. Your arms wrap themselves even tighter around her soft, trembling torso. Your foreheads touch, your eyes close.

“I know,” you answer. “I always have.”

Later that morning, when she is snoring peacefully, you slip out of the bed. Your flight to Korea wasn’t until later that afternoon, and so you had some time to spare before you had to leave the house, and her, for god knew how long. Every part of you wanted to lie there in bed with her and savour every moment of it, not knowing when you’d next be able to do so - but you had decided the night before that something needed to be done, and there was no better time to do it.

You fire up the coffee maker - you’d both settled into specific domestic roles since moving in together, and you were almost immediately appointed Minister of Caffeinated Beverages - and take a seat at the kitchen island with your laptop.

A few minutes later, and you’d begun an email to JYP informing him of your intention to resign your position following the end of your next business trip.

Distance had taken her from you once, and it wouldn’t do it again.

---

“Is she being a good girl?”

“Yes, Nayeon,” you say, your answer somewhere between a sigh and a hiss as you press your phone close to your ear, ensuring only you could hear the voice on the other side of the call. You made sure to use her name, as she’d previously suggested, knowing what hearing it would do to the young woman you were currently sharing a hotel room with. 

Between your legs, Yuna gives the tip of your cock a swirl with the end of her tongue. Those large doe eyes glance up at you, the mention of your girlfriend’s name giving the topless young woman a small spike of wicked delight. You watch with a measure of your own satisfaction as she pumps your cock with one hand, the other fondling her own small, round breast and the tight nipple atop it. After a moment her hand drifts down her body, between her legs - and soon after she begins to sigh and moan around a mouthful of your shaft as she begins to pleasure herself.

“Good,” Nayeon continues. “I told you she would be. Did you fuck her on the plane, too?”

“Yes, we’ve started the operation. And yeah, Korea’s hot this time of year,” you say, keeping up the false pretence you both agreed upon.

“Let me guess - she’s on her knees? Are you fucking that pretty little mouth of hers?”

“Not yet,” you answer, “I think I’ll let the team continue to observe before we move.” Your eyes drift closed as the pleasure begins to build. You lean your head back slightly as the young woman between your knees increases her pace. What Yuna lacked in experience and technique, she more than made up for with enthusiasm.

On the line, you hear a soft sigh. A moment later, the sigh turns into a barely audible moan.

“What about you?” you ask. “Are you busy? How’s work?”

“Fine. I’m… alone. In a squad car.”

“On a stakeout?”

“We prefer the term ‘distanced surveillance,’ but yes, a stakeout.”

“You miss me?”

“Fuck,” you hear, followed by a soft hum. “Yes, I miss you,” she admits.

A thousand miles away, you smirk. The image of Nayeon alone, in her car, in an alleyway, a hand down her pants, touching herself to the sound of her boyfriend getting head from another woman - it aroused you more than the young woman between your knees, truth be told.

“Do you… miss me?” she asks.

You reach out with your free hand, cradling the side of Yuna’s head, running your fingertips through the bright red strands. She redoubles her efforts at your touch - she quickens her pace, her hand squeezing tighter around your shaft as her head continues to bob up and down its length.

“Fuck, I want you right now, Nayeon,” you hiss, knowing what repeating her name would do to the younger woman filling her mouth with your shaft. “I wish you were here.”

Between your legs, the moan Yuna lets out around your cock sends a delicious pulse of pleasure up your spine. On the line, Nayeon lets a similar moan escape her lips. 

“Tell me what you would do to me,” Nayeon says, tone low and deep, the way it was when she was desperate, needy. “I bet she’d do it for you.”

You bite your lip for a second - listening to Nayeon’s increasingly breathless sighs and picturing her becoming a writhing, wet little mess in her car, watching Yuna try and fail to wrest your attention away - taking it all in, savouring every second of the two women, a thousand miles apart, each doing their best to pleasure you in their own way.

“I’d pull your mouth off my cock,” you say, gripping the base of Yuna’s ponytail and easing her off your shaft. She looks up with you with those large doe eyes of hers, momentarily confused, temporarily disappointed at the sudden emptiness in her mouth - until she quickly catches on to your intentions.

“Mmm, more,” Nayeon says, on the verge of a plea.

“I’d tell you to strip, and get your cunt on my cock like a good little girl.”

And just as she predicted, Yuna does exactly that - peels off ridiculously short denim shorts she wore, along with the flimsy scrap of string beneath it that passed for a thong. She climbs atop you, straddles your waist, reaches between your bodies, grasps your slick cock and spends just a second rubbing your head against her dripping, slick lips.

And then she takes you inside her. On the line, Nayeon hears that unmistakable gasp you made whenever you entered her own cunt, and it drives her crazy. Her fingers work quickly between her legs. 

A thousand miles away, you watch as Yuna bounces her young, tight little body on your cock - up and down, up and down, up and down. She is rough, fast, impatient, with little technique but plenty of need. 

Your free hand grips a thigh before snaking up her torso, gripping a soft, bouncing breast and pinching the taut nipple between two fingers and giving it a slight slap from the side that elicits a yelp of pleasure from the young woman. Your cock stretches her tight little cunt with each entry, filling her up, making her need more, want more, making her lose her control over her senses - not that she had much to begin with.

She is enthusiastic, needy - but she is clumsy in her movements, inexperienced, drunk on the idea of being used and fucked and not possessing the control to savour the moment, make it anything more memorable than a messy, quick fuck.

She sighs and moans. “Daddy,” she gasps, uncaring now of being heard on the line, forgetting that you were supposed to be fucking her on the down low, under your girlfriend’s nose. “Daddy please, I need… Daddy please, your cum, inside me, I want-”

You remind her of her place by closing your hand around her throat. Not enough to cause pain, but enough to remind her of what she was - a fucktoy. Something to warm your cock while you were apart from the woman you really wanted. A substitute for a woman a thousand miles away.

“Is she… is she good for you?” Nayeon asks, voice betraying the fact that she was bringing herself to the edge. She’s wet and squirming and sighing - but she’s alone, in her car, far away. 

Her fingers aren’t you.

Yuna continues to fuck herself on your cock, recklessly and wildly, her orgasm doing little to slow or stop her. You watch as she bites down hard on her lower lip, enough to draw blood, doing her best to keep herself from vocalizing the pleasure coursing through her body and only partially succeeding. You knew she’d be especially loud once you’d ended the call. You consider pretending to end it but leaving the line open, just to give Nayeon the satisfaction of hearing what Shin Yuna sounded like when she was being bent over the bed and having her tight little pussy pounded full of cum.

Your fingers tighten around Yuna’s neck as she bounces with an increasingly wild pace atop your cock. It forces her to slow down, forces her to submit to you and your needs. It reminds her of her place, reminds her who she was. It was necessary.

A makeshift leash. 

“She’s good, Nayeon,” you admit. “But she’s not you.”

---

“Alright, I have to admit - she’s pretty fucking perfect for you.”

“There’s something I never thought I’d hear you say,” you admit, looking up from your laptop and the report on it to give Shin Yuna a look. The young woman is lounging about on her stomach your hotel room bed, picking away at a plate of room service french fries. She’d taken a shower, but hadn’t bothered to put her clothes back on after you’d bent her over the bed and fucked a load into her.

“She’s a bitch, don’t get me wrong,” she continues, tone casual, as though she weren’t naked on her boss’ hotel room bed with his cum still warm inside her. “But she’s really fucking pretty, and she’s a cop? Man. That’s a dream girl for most guys, you have to admit.”

“I suppose,” you say, flatly. “Where are you going with this, Yuna?”

“Nowhere,” she answers, popping another fry into her mouth. “I was just curious, I guess.”

“About?”

“About why you’re not married yet. About why there aren’t little hellspawn baby versions of her running around in your life.”

The thought is finally enough to wrest your attention from the report for good. You give the young woman atop your bed a look.

“Listen, I think it’s hot as fuck to be some exec’s fucktoy,” Yuna continues. “I just want to make sure I’m not the thing that’s keeping him from marrying the love of his life or some shit.”

“You’re not stopping anything, Yuna,” you state, clearly, ensuring that she didn’t form any wrong impressions. You certainly didn’t want her to overestimate her role in your life. “Trust me,” you add.

“So then what is stopping you? You’re in love, aren’t you?” Yuna continues. “I’ve heard all about your past with her from the company grapevine, and Dahyun filled me in on the rest. College sweethearts finding each other again in a foreign land after so long apart - that’s cute as fuck. So why isn’t there a ring on her finger and a baby in her belly?”

You are struck temporarily wordless by your executive assistant’s forwardness, but the answer comes to you eventually.

“We’re not ready yet,” you state.

Yuna seems satisfied with your answer - or at least, isn’t curious enough to pursue it further. She gives you a shrug before she picks up her phone and begins to scroll on it. “Whatever you say, boss,” she says.

You return your attention to your laptop, and the resignation email to JYP that was sitting in your drafts. Sending it would mean leaving a career that, in many ways, had defined you. Yes, it had played a major role in bringing Nayeon back into your life, but were you really ready to give up the adventures in distant lands, not to mention all the romance and intrigue and excitement said adventures brought with them? 

Your cursor hovers over the send icon.

—

Problem 2: Her job.

As it turned out, JYP was more than happy to do whatever it took to keep you with the company - even if it meant giving you a tidy little promotion along with a promise to make any further business trips entirely optional. That was Problem 1 solved, then - leaving only Problem 2.

For the most part, Nayeon did a good job of keeping her work at work and not taking it home with her. Every now and then she’d vent about a particularly hard case she was on, or tell you about how something an actor did in a movie or tv show was wildly inaccurate compared to standard law enforcement procedures in the real world. By and large you could almost forget that she was a senior detective who regularly found herself in situations the average person might consider dangerous.

This was all to say that you only rarely gave Nayeon’s profession any thought, had you not noticed the breaking news report playing on the large TV screen in the JYP lobby on your way back from lunch one afternoon.

A reporter, apparently on scene, is speaking into the camera - but the TV is muted, and the captions are not turned on. Behind him civilians flee from a building under the guidance of two understandably anxious-looking uniformed police officers with their sidearms drawn. “Active hostage situation underway at downtown bank,” read the ticker. “Multiple hostages and casualties reported.” 

You were ready to give it no further thought aside from a passing sense of disappointment at the general state of crime in your country, had you not caught a fleeting glimpse of her on the screen.

In the background, behind the reporter, Nayeon steps into frame, her back to the camera - but it was unmistakably her. She flashes the badge around her neck to the two uniformed cops nervously holding the bank entrance door.

You watch as she draws her sidearm from the holster at her hip, racks the slide to chamber a round, and rushes into the building.

--

To say the next few hours were absolutely nerve wracking would be an understatement. 

Yes, you’d known that danger and the possibility of being hurt were part and parcel of being a member of active law enforcement. You were in the room when she was quite literally shot at close range in Seoul - a few layers of kevlar being the only thing that kept her from bleeding out on a dirty apartment floor.

You’d done your best to avoid having to deal with the reality that your girlfriend had a relatively dangerous profession. Maybe it was a subconscious thing - maybe your brain knew that living every day in fear of your girlfriend losing her life was not exactly conducive to a healthy relationship - or a healthy mental state.

Whatever the reason, it didn’t really hit home until that day. You’d never been so worried in your life, staying glued to the TV and your phone and news sites, pacing nervously alone in your apartment, grasping for any snippet of an update that would confirm she was okay, that she was safe. Needless to say she wasn’t picking up her phone, and a call to her precinct lieutenant went unanswered. 

You’d learn later that she was never in any actual danger - the gunfire she’d heard turned out to be warning shots fired into the ceiling to intimidate the bank staff. Nayeon, who’d been passing by the building randomly on her lunch break, had decided that civilians were in immediate danger and entered the bank on her own volition, cleared out the remaining customers from the bank lobby, and held down the hallway leading to the safety deposit boxes where the suspects were holed up until SWAT arrived. 

As the first responder to the scene, protocol demanded she remain on-site until it was resolved, explaining the length of her absence. She wasn’t actually in danger for very long, she’d later insist.

But she knew none of that when she rushed into the building, gun in hand. For all she’d known there could have easily been a suspect pointing an assault rifle down the hallway, finger on the trigger, just waiting for an eager young detective to stray into his sights. Moreover, her nine millimetre sidearm and lack of kevlar would’ve put her in a precarious position had they decided to make an escape using force.

Nonetheless, you were more relieved than you’d ever been in your life when she finally called to tell you she was on her way home - eight hours and forty-nine minutes since you’d made your first unanswered call to her cell phone (the first of thirty). 

Your heart let out the breath it had been holding for nine hours.

---

When she finally got home it was a lot, all at once. 

It was relief, mostly, and then reassurance, and comfort, followed shortly by an irresistible, intense lust. Danger never failed to get Im Nayeon going.

Within seconds of bursting through the door she was already on you, arms wrapped around your neck as yours wrapped around hers, lips searching for and quickly pulling yours into a deep, passionate kiss. Her leather jacket quickly leaves her body, her fingers immediately going to work on your button-up. While this hurried undressing was happening, when your lips parted long enough to draw in a breath, she’d tried, in broken sentences, to fill you in on what had happened.

You pieced enough together from her jumbled words to get an idea of how her day went, and how she wasn’t allowed to contact you until the incident was resolved. You wanted to ask her more, wanted to know more about what exactly happened, but she was in no mood for talking. Her lips and tongue stole the words and questions from your mouth before you could give them voice.

You are naked before long, stumbling into the bedroom and leaving behind a trail of haphazardly discarded clothing. She pushes you onto the bed with more force than you were ready for - silencing any objections by quickly climbing atop you, straddling your lap as you sit on its edge. Your mouths find each other and your tongues continue their frantic duel. Before long you slip from her lips to kiss a rough trail down her neck and to her chest.

You capture a breast in your mouth, closing your lips around her taut nipple. “Fuck,” she gasps, her hands quickly burying themselves in your hair, nails digging almost painfully into your scalp as you suckle from her tight bud.

A small part of you wants to slow down - perhaps even stop altogether - and tell her how damn worried you were for her, how the last nine hours were the longest nine hours you’d ever had in your life. But she steals your words again, this time with some of her own.

“Hard,” she hisses between gritted teeth, “I want it hard.”

She reaches between you, points your tip at her dripping entrance, and takes you inside her.

The long, hot sigh that escapes your lips finally rips them from her nipple. For the next few minutes you are powerless to do more than breathe heavily between her breasts as she rides you - those toned, full thighs of her working to throw her body up and down your shaft, taking you in and out of her tight, warm little cunt.

“Nayeon, I-” you begin, finally finding the wherewithal after a few minutes to look up at her.

She silences you with a finger to your lips. Her eyes are half-lidded, but hungry.

“Shut up,” she spits. “Just shut up.”

You were not one to argue, not when you were balls deep inside the most beautiful woman you’d ever known. And so you content yourself with watching as Nayeon took her pleasure from your body, using your cock like a toy, impaling herself with it over and over again until she became a mewling, moaning mess atop your lap.

You grasp her thighs, squeeze her bouncing breasts and tease the nipples atop them, slide your hand up her chest and up her throat and to her jaw before sliding your thumb between her lips for her to suck as you cradle the side of her pleasure-filled face - and throughout it all she rides you, pace relentless, merciless, hard.

Soon she is cumming - and she shows no sign of stopping, fucking herself through her orgasm even as her body is wracked by pleasure. She trembles, shakes, and quivers atop you - but it doesn’t stop her, doesn’t come close to fulfilling her immense need. She wants more. She needs more. 

Even as her orgasm radiates throughout her body and turns her into a wet, writhing mess, you hold her tight to you as you turn her over, putting her on her back atop the bed while you rise to your feet next to it. You wrap her legs around your waist, pull her hips onto yours, and continue to fuck her - hard, fast, rough.

She sighs and moans and cries and you are content to let her, content to let out some of the frustration and worry and fear you’d held inside you for most of the day on her tight, helpless little body. Her breasts bounce deliciously atop her heaving chest. Her fingers are claws, finding purchase wherever she can - on the bedsheets and your forearms, mostly. Eventually she reaches down and fingers her own clit, even as your cock pumps in and out between the lips of her cunt, just beyond her fingertips. Her eyes spur you on - telling you to keep fucking her, keep using her, all without saying a single word.

Your hands leave her hips, pulling on her legs until her calves are atop your shoulders. You continue to pound into her all along, this new position leaving her cunt open and exposed, rendering her helpless to do anything but take each hard, fast thrust you make into her body. It is almost callous, the way you fuck her, as though she were some whore and not the love of your life. You use her cunt. You make it yours, remind her who it belonged to. 

Her moans build, rising in volume and signalling another impending orgasm. You want to join her, and are about to give in, about to fill her-

“My ass,” she gasps. “Fuck my ass.”

She pulls her sweaty, still trembling body off you, denying you the warm slickness of her cunt. Her pussy drips onto the bedsheets as she wastes no time, getting atop the bed on her knees, upper body pressed against the bed. She reaches back with her hands, palming the cheeks of her ass, spreading them apart, showing you what she’d been keeping inside her.

And there it is, red silicone, glistening and slick with lube.

The sight of it takes your breath away. You let an unexpected sigh of pleasure leave your lips as you grasp the toy with your fingers, easing it out of her body slowly. She moans as it leaves her, perhaps in pain or pleasure or both. Soon it’s finally out. Every molecule in her body yearns to replace its absence.

Grasping your cock, slick and wet with her juices, you press the tip against her open, gaping hole - and begin to slide inside her.

You’d had her ass before, but never after she’d had a plug inside her, and it is sublime. Her ass immediately closes and tightens around you, and you think right then and there that you might cum. Your hand clutches her ass and left hip, fingers digging deep into the soft, yielding flesh, relishing the pleasure coursing through your veins but fighting it before it gets too intense, wanting to prolong this moment. She sighs and moans as she adjusts to your size. She trembles at the feeling of her ass being filled.

“Mmmm,” she hisses into the sheets, evidently having lost the ability to form words. She reaches back as far as she can with a free hand, her long fingers clutching your thigh. She pulls you toward her, and you oblige, pressing yourself as deep as you can until you are hilt deep.

“Do it,” she spits from between gritted teeth, “Fuck my ass. Hard.”

And so you begin - fucking Im Nayeon’s ass with hard, long strokes, using her tight, hot hole with the same tempo and speed as you did her cunt just moments earlier. She moans and shrieks and gasps into the sheets, the side of her face pressed against the bed, saliva dripping from a slack mouth. Her fingers are claws, digging into the sheets or your thighs or both, searching for something, anything, to ground herself amidst the constant pounding into the most vulnerable part of her body.

“Fuck, Nayeon,” you say, your brain unable to form much more than a curse and her name. She is so tight, so very hot - and she’d ensured the toy was well lubed before it entered her, so she was slick enough to make every entry and exit so delicious, so utterly sublime; a perfect cocktail of pleasure and pain all mixed into one irresistible sensation.

For the first time in a while Nayeon lifts her head from the bed, sweat pasting dark strands to the side of her face. She opens her mouth to say something-

But you reach forward, grasping her by the back of her neck, and slamming her back down onto the bed. She shrieks - partially in surprise, mostly in pleasure - as you resume pounding her.

“Shut up,” you spit. “Just shut up.”

The thick cotton bedsheets can do little to hide the long, deep moan of pleasure that leaves Nayeon’s lips as you impose yourself on her. She continues, not stopping for a moment, letting a drivel of wordless pleasure leave her mouth with each thrust you make into her body. She reaches a hand down, plays with her wet, slick clit even as you pound relentlessly into her ass - pleasuring her, hurting her - either way, making her yours.

The hand at her neck doesn’t leave her - it merely moves to her upper back, still keeping her pinned to the mattress, making sure she could do nothing more than take you. She lets you. She gives herself to you, lets you do what you want to her, because this - a rough, hard fuck - was what she wanted, what she craved.

It doesn’t take her long to orgasm, with her fingers on her clit and your cock pounding hard into her asshole. She tightens even more around you. She screams her pleasure into the bedsheets.

She clenches around your cock when she cums. It sends you over the edge, and you push yourself as deep as you can into Im Nayeon’s ass before you cum, filling her depths with thick, hot semen. Her moans turn into whimpers and then sobs, and you think for a moment that she might be crying.

You want to stay there, as you often did after you came inside her. You want to relish the moment and the sight of your cock embedded inside her ass and the feeling of her body wrapped around yours. But the accumulated physical and mental exhaustion of the day hit you all at once, and you collapse atop her, your arms only barely keeping you from crashing onto her back as you land on your elbows, still hilt-deep inside her.

You find the strength to bring your mouth to her ear. Filthy sex and dirty fucking aside, she had to know.

“I belong to you,” you say.

“I know,” she answers. Beneath the sweaty, messy hair and heavy breaths, Nayeon smiles.

—

The next morning, while you are still asleep, she wakes up early to make breakfast. She rarely cooked - every food delivery driver within a ten mile radius knew how to get to your apartment by heart - but when she did it was for special occasions. Or, in this case, a form of apology for making you worry so much the day before.

She’s stumbling towards the kitchen - she was understandably more than a little sore in places that made walking difficult - when she catches a glimpse of her old criminology textbooks on the hallway bookshelf. 

She was a fairly sentimental person, and despite your efforts she wouldn’t get rid of the old, heavy texts. She insisted that they were a part of what made her who she was, and wanted to keep them as a reminder of how far she’d come in her career; privately, she kept them to remind herself of those hard months when you’d left to join JYP all those years ago, and how much she missed being away from you. Those months were difficult, and she’d turned to her career as a way of coping. Those months were instrumental in putting her on the path to becoming a detective, but they were also part of what drove her to Seoul to find you.

A thought strikes her as her eyes take in titles of the texts. She reaches out and lets her fingertips graze their worn covers, seeing in them a way to ensure her career would never worry you so much again.

---

And so the problems were solved. All it took was a few uncomfortable emails, a few months of occasionally stressful worrying and intense interviews, and two new job offers. Easy peasy.

You’d taken a job at a branch office of JYP that promised travel would be completely optional. Nayeon had quit the PD and become a professor in criminology at a local college. You’d moved out of the small downtown apartment that had been the home you’d shared for the past five years, and into a slightly more comfortable townhouse in the suburbs.

Time passed. Good days and bad days. She was there for all of them, making the good days sweeter and the bad days more bearable. She was home. Safe harbour and north star for each other.

You are both sitting in a cafe on a lazy Sunday morning - you’re reading a book and nursing a coffee while she’s grading some papers on her laptop. You loved many things about your relationship, but one of the things you appreciated the most was how comfortable you both were in silence. The years had given you both a familiarity that had often transcended the need for speaking. Most of the time, you knew what the other was thinking, even before they spoke.

Your presence was enough, and there was no need to fill the space between you with words for the sake of it.

After awhile you look up to her to find that she’d been watching you, apparently for some time.

“I think we’re ready,” she says, a warm, soft smile on her lips. 

She says no more, returning her attention to her laptop, but you know what she means.

You smile as you return to your book.

---

Im Nayeon could always surprise you.

You’d had her more times than you could count, but this night was different - it was important, special in a way none of the in-shower quickies or weekend-long marathon sessions were. Just when you’d thought sex and lovemaking could hold no more surprises, you are proven wrong.

“It’s you,” she sighs into your ear, her voice soft, still filled with pleasure, but with an undercurrent of emotion that you’d never heard in her before. One of her arms wraps itself around your back, the other buried into the hair at the back of your neck as you thrust in and out of her body. 

“Cum inside me,” she continues, breathless, words spilling from her lips in a long, drawn out hiss. “Fill me up. It has to be you. Breed me, put a baby in my belly. I want it- I want you. It has to be you. It’s only ever been you.”

“Nayeon,” you say into her ear, and when she replies with your own name you think it is the most beautiful thing you’d ever heard in your life. 

She is tight, wet, hot - she feels every bit as good as she did when you were teenagers fumbling awkwardly in an old dorm room, or when you were reunited old flames brought together by fate in Seoul, or when you moved in together and decided to build lives together. But it means more now. It means more now than it ever did.

“Give me a baby,” she says, half-moan, half-sigh. “Breed me, make me yours.”

Words you’d heard before, from the same lips, on many another night. But none like tonight, not when she meant them more than she ever did - this wasn’t pillow talk, an act meant to spice up a risqué encounter; no, this was much more. She meant every word, without pretence or facade. She meant it all.

“Nayeon,” you repeat, unable to say much else. The sound of her name on your lips draws a sigh from hers, sends a quiver up her spine that is pure pleasure and love. 

“It has to be you,” she whispers into your ear, the most intimate words she has ever spoken. “It was always you - I love you.”

“I love you too,” you say, every molecule of your body shouting the words, even if they left your lips as little more than a light gasp.

You thrust between her spread legs, and she wraps her thighs and arms around you, making the two of you into one. 

You fill her. She sighs, moans - and when your cheeks press against each other as you both lie there, breathing heavily - you can feel her cheeks pull her lips into a smile.

---

“It was always going to be you and me, wasn’t it?”

You are caught a little off-guard by her words - truth be told your mind was solely fixated on the humble sign outside your favourite sushi restaurant and the familiar but delicious culinary delights that awaited you. It’s a Friday night, and you were looking forward to a quiet dinner with her following a long, draining week of work. 

The choice of dining establishment was a foregone conclusion, and you had nothing on your mind other than settling into a simple but comforting meal with her. Grand statements of destined love weren't exactly on your mind - not this early in the evening, anyway.

But when you turn to her and find a soft, warm smile on her lips, you couldn’t help but agree. She doesn’t even turn to look at you - her gaze, like yours, is locked on the old, dingy, familiar restaurant sign.

“Yes,” you answer, the word leaving your lips quickly, almost on instinct, almost on reflex, as though your body knew the truth - knew what you felt, in your innermost core. “It was always going to be you, Nayeon.”

She doesn’t turn her head to look at you. There is a slight deepening of the smile on her lips, a slightly deeper blush on her cheeks, but that’s it. She doesn’t need to read your face to verify or discern the truth in your expression. She is confident enough -  in the years you’ve spent together, in the trials and tribulations borne at each others’ side, to know the truth in your words.

She feels it in the way you clutch her hand, the way you hold her close in your most intimate moments, the way you brush stray hairs away from her forehead when you kiss her good morning before heading out the door to work. 

She sees it in the slight swell in her belly, and the family you were building together.

She knows all this. She feels it all, deep inside herself where nothing else exists except you and her and the home you’ve built with shared memories. She knows it is all true, always will be.

When you enter the restaurant you are greeted warmly with a smile and hug by the waiter - he’s become a good friend in the years since your escapades in Tokyo and Seoul. From behind the counter, Jisoo looks up from her prep work to wave and smile widely. She leaves the counter for a moment to greet you both, revealing the full roundness of her belly. She waddles awkwardly over, exchanging hugs, confirming plans for next week’s gender reveal dinner party for their child.

With one hand, Nayeon cradles Jisoo’s full belly. Perhaps unconsciously, her free hand hovers over her own, a warm, thoughtful smile on her lips.

Eventually, Jisoo shuffles adorably back to the counter to finish her vegetable prep, promising to come back later to chat. The waiter shows you to your table, leaving you both two cups of tea. 

He doesn’t leave a menu, because he already knows your order.

You tap the chest pocket of your jacket as you take it off and drape it over the back of your seat, making sure the small box and the engagement ring within were still there.

Nayeon cups her tea in both hands before taking a small sip. She finally locks eyes with you, although she doesn’t say anything. She knows she doesn’t have to. She’s content just to smile, content to reach her hand over the table, palm up, wanting nothing more than to feel your hand in hers.

Maybe she knew what was coming. Maybe she caught a glimpse of the box in your nightstand drawer, or noticed an open tab on your browser for a local jewelry store. Maybe she read it in your face at some point today, in the way you moved or the words you chose. She was a former detective and current professor of criminology, after all. She’d made a living out of reading people, and to her, you were an open book.

But it didn’t matter whether she knew it was coming or not, whether she would be surprised at all when, at the end of your meal, you got down on one knee in this restaurant where your relationship began and asked her to spend the rest of her life with you.

Because you both already knew, on some level had always known. It was always going to be you and her. And every trial and tribulation, every painful relationship with long-gone lovers, every day apart - it had all led to tonight.

Nayeon’s hand finds yours and your fingers intertwine.

Your heart warms at her touch.

---

Author’s Note: Good to be back ^^ Excuse any writing rust that was evident in this fic :( I actually had this alternate ending to BT mostly written awhile ago, but I'd been thinking about coming back to writing again and Nayeon's comeback gave me all the inspiration I needed to finally finish it.

Shoutout to @capslocked, whose work played a part in getting me back into writing. A special shoutout to his Tzuyu fic, which is probably one of my favorite smuts of all time - and I might have borrowed the phone sex idea from it. Love ya bud. Mimosa fic next pls k thx.

Stories and posts will be few and far between, but you’re always welcome to leave an ask. Thank you all for the love and support you've shown me over the past year. <3

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Gray Woman 1

Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Lloyd Hansen

Summary: You meet a man who tests your patience. (grumpy!short!reader)

Note: To those who didn't help me resist this beast, I blame you.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

"Five thousand." The man slaps his card down and flicks it through the slot of the plastic window.

"Five thousand," you repeat.

"In cash. Hundreds, sweetheart. Oh, actually, do about five hundred in ones," he winks.

You don't humour him by reacting. Your skin crawls nonetheless. The implication of the last part of his request is clear. You merely stare back at him. He's not unusual. Executives strut in all the time with their demands. It's never a request, no please, no thank you. They only tell you what to do.

"Yes, sir. I would need your ID," you take his card from the counter and feel the embossed letters on the matte black plastic.

He scoffs, "my ID? I gave you my damn card."

You don't flinch. Not for him. You've worked this desk long enough not to even feel his anger. He's just another spoiled brat in an overpriced suit. The metropolitan bank is an ocean swimming with the likes of him; hair slicked with smelly pomade, feet bedecked in tacky designer loafers, and jackets lined with silk. You couldn't pick him out of a batch of your usual clientele.

"It is procedure, sir. For security. We must confirm your identity and make note of the large transaction--"

"Large transaction? It's pennies," he scoffs.

"Sir, I'm only following protocol. For your safety." You insist.

He snarls as you remain placid. Your lack of reaction doesn't please him. He jabs his finger onto the marble ledge on the other side of the plastic window. "Manager. Now." He pokes again. "Get me your manager."

"Yes, sir, a moment," you slide forward in the chair and step onto the lower bar of the tall legs.

"While you're at it, why don't you crack a smile?" He snipes.

You climb down without response, his card still in hand, and turn to find Veronique. You've been told to do so many a time. You don't give in. It's not that you don't smile, you just prefer to have a reason for that. You're not grim by any measure, just reserved. You don't believe in exhuberance.

As you cross the floor, you look down at the card in your hand. You can just make out the plastic letters; Lloyd M. Hansen. The name might be familiar, you may have even helped him before, but you can't recall.

You long-legged supervisor with her auburn red hair, waved to compliment her long oval face, stands with Gianni, giggling at the Account Manager as he postures. You approach and steel yourself for the interaction. She doesn't notice you as you stand right by her elbow.

You clear your throat, "Excuse me."

"Oh, pardon me, Gianni," she peers over at you, "what is it, dear?"

"A customer is unhappy. He does not want to show his ID." You say.

"Oh, gosh, forgive me, Gianni," she looks back to the manager and preens. "Gotta make sure everyone's happy, don't I?" She spins and nudges you away from the man in his pin-striped arrogance. She lowers her voice as she stomps in her heels, "do I have to do everything around here?"

"I tried--"

"Zip it," she warns and looks ahead. "Bonjour, Mr. Hansen, comment ca va?" She puts her on her faux French accent.

Your chest hollows out. Of course, she would know him. You already know how this goes.

"Well, Ronnie, this pinch-faced brat you got working for you won't give me my money," he crosses his arms and leans them against the ledge. Brat? You're probably not that much younger than him, and likely more mature.

"Oh, my, I'm so sorry. Forgive me, monsieur," she trills and rears on you, "go get his money."

You blink, "yes, ma'am."

Her lip curls slightly. She doesn't like that. It makes her feel old. It's as much rebellion as you have in you. Subtlety always does better.

You turn and go to the safe. You put the bills through the counting machine, taking your time, then return to your desk. As you approach, Veronique lets out another of her high-pitched giggles.

The man on the other side, Hansen, stands straight, his arms still folded, and coughs. It's nothing in his throat, you know what it is. You push his card through the slot then climb up calmly into your chair.

You count the bills by hand as Veronique hovers like a hawk. You record the withdrawal as you pause.

"Once again, Monsieur Hansen, we apologise," she fawns, "it is only that she did not recognise you." She lowers her voice and leans into the window, hiding her mouth even though you can obviously hear her, "we think her hearing is going a bit."

You continue to count and state the total evenly as you slide it under the window, "five thousand, sir."

"Great," he checks his watch, "only took ten minutes out of my day to do what could be done in ten seconds."

He clamps his hand over the money and shakes his head. You close out of his account as Veronique lingers.

"I will be sure this does not happen again," she avows. "I hope you have a wonderful day."

He grumbles and says nothing else. He catches your gaze and his eyes narrow. You calmly reach for your pen and turn back to your computer. The next client steps forward and blocks him out.

"How can I help you today?" You ask, moving onto the next without another thought. It's just another day. Always the same. Good and bad.