#its for her own amusement and ONLY for her own amusement

[prael]

Day 3: Reciprocation

Itzy Yeji x male reader smut

words: 6,714 12 Days of Praelmas Masterlist

If there's one thing you've learned dealing with the rich, the famous and the devious, it's that there's always a deal to be made.

-

"Not often that I see a girl like you in a place like this."

"Well, you're an incredibly difficult man to track down."

It's the girl who's supposed to be on the main page of your site starting tomorrow morning. You gesture for Yeji to sit by your side, and while there are more than enough empty seats around you, she prefers to stand. What is this, a fucking power move?

"Well, you could have just called my office and made yourself an appointment."

It doesn't amuse her. She simply brings her hands up to rest on her hips as she looks at you.

"Look, let's get to the point. You can't post the article." There is something rather endearing in watching how she talks to you. Her hips are cocked and her face bears a look of determination, but she lacks confidence. You're not sure she even believes herself. Maybe she's just hoping that you'll cave.

You meet her eyes and hold her gaze for a few moments, searching for a crack in her armour. It's hard to say for certain when the only lighting in this club is what little neon they have on display, but there seems to be something else hiding behind her stare. A nervous energy, perhaps. So, you correct her, "I can post the article."

"Look— I, I have money." She takes a single stride towards you, with her long slender legs of which only part of her thigh is covered by the bottom of her dress. That thing clings to them like it does every other inch of her body. One hell of a figure.

"I'm well aware."

"Okay then, how much money will it take for you to drop the article?"

"Money doesn't compare to an article like this one—you know that. Come on," you lean forward a bit. "You should be smarter than that."

"How much?!" Yeji says again. There's an edge to her voice now and a stern look in her eyes. She must feel that you're not taking her seriously—honestly, you aren't. You can't count the number of times an agency has tried to block an article by simply throwing money your way. The novelty has worn off. 

"Listen, Miss Hwang, I appreciate the effort you have gone through to manufacture a meeting with me, however, just like I told your PR team, I'm not for sale. Should you want to avoid this sort of thing, then I'd recommend being a little more discreet the next time you want to fuck around." You glance at the door leading out. The exit sign above is blinking erratically, but it serves its intended purpose nonetheless. "I'll see you in tomorrow morning's news."

"No."

"No?" You raise an eyebrow. She may be a star and she may make people go crazy in more ways than one, but if you've learned something about yourself over the years, it's that you aren't as easily swayed by beauty alone, nor impressed by fame.

Yeji remains silent, her eyes looking down to the table in front of you and your mind instantly starts conjuring up scenarios where the girl goes into a screaming fit or starts throwing a tantrum until security drags her sorry ass out the door.

Her head snaps up again. "Fine." Yeji turns sideways and steps around the small table. It becomes apparent that she plans on sitting by your side, after all. She isn't exactly looking at you as she plops herself onto the cushioned bench. "You said 'next time', right?" She begins quietly.

In spite of yourself, a smile appears on your face when you see the wheels turn inside of Yeji's head. "I don't think I understand."

"Yes, you do," Yeji replies dryly. And with the certainty now back in her voice, it appears you've misjudged her.

When you remain silent for a few moments, Yeji eventually gives in and takes a quick, inconspicuous breath before looking up again. Her face is but inches from your own. "Have sex with me tonight."

It takes effort not to burst into laughter in response to such an absurd offer, and as a result, the amusement is probably pretty damn clear in the tone of your reply. "You're cute."

"I'm serious."

You look the girl in the eyes once more, leaning backwards. "You know how much trouble you could get into for trying something like this, right?"

Yeji's jaw clenches momentarily. "Yeah."

You gaze down along her body again. The skin on her thighs seems smooth and silky; definitely worth a closer inspection, and you would be lying if you said the knowledge of her dirty hook-ups didn't have your mind wondering about all the ways she might be willing to work her body in an attempt to sway you. You wonder if she likes it rough; likes having someone grab hold of those black locks of hers and yank her head back. Likes having a cock slammed down her throat. Your thoughts quickly go into a tailspin which has you imagining Yeji crawling towards you dressed up in nothing but skimpy lingerie, a hungry smile plastered across her face and a yearning desire to find out what sort of mess you could turn her into.

"So," you begin quietly. "I don't release an article about the K-pop star who keeps sneaking out into hotels to get herself fucked—and in exchange, I get to sleep with the K-pop star who keeps sneaking out into hotels to get herself fucked. Do I have that right?"

You see the embarrassment cross Yeji's features briefly, yet she still manages to bite out her reply with certainty: "Yes."

For some reason, even though she's been found out and forced into making such an absurd deal, she refuses to lower her gaze away from yours, almost daring you to judge her. You've seen her music videos online—goddamnit, everyone has—and she's sexy as hell. No one would deny that, and she looks stunning in that black dress of hers. It really compliments her figure. Legs go on for days, a toned physique and looking down the front of her dress as she leans into you, a pretty little pair of tits hidden somewhere in there as well.

"I've been propositioned before, you know, but usually that's to get their face on the front page, not off it." You cock your head at her. "How badly do you want this dropped, anyway?"

"What are you trying to say?"

You lean back slowly, deliberately, resting your shoulders against the seat as you feel Yeji's eyes study your every move. Despite the terrible lighting, you can tell she's biting her lip nervously. She's so close that the scent coming off her fills the air around you. It's a pleasant smell. One you wouldn't mind having all over your bed.

"I'll be blunt." Your eyes fall to her chest and you take note of how Yeji squirms under your stare. A tiny smile appears on your lips. "I'd love to fuck you. Hell, anyone in their right mind would love to fuck you. You're a very attractive girl, after all." You nod in her direction. "So, that part will happen if I agree to this deal of yours, however, there's one thing you haven't accounted for."

Yeji meets your stare. Her voice is low, yet resolute. "Which is?"

"You have no idea of whether or not I'm actually going to uphold my end of the bargain."

She pauses in silence and then moves her hand across the table, scooping up your drink and raising it to her full lips. As she knocks back the remainder, the way her slender neck stretches makes you wish you could wrap your hands around it.

The glass hits the table and Yeji licks her lips softly. The sight has you licking your own and for just a second, the both of you simply gaze at each other in silence, almost sizing each other up. Yeji finally shifts closer to you until she's right by your side. Her breasts press up against your shoulder and you feel her warmth on your arm.

One of her delicate hands lands gently in your lap and slides upwards onto your thigh where she starts to draw small circles with her fingertips. You wonder if she notices the slight hitch in your breath as she touches you. "We can go to your office. Sign a document. Legally binding. Non-disclosure. And agree to write a favourable piece about me. You can send out the request to your best columnist there and then. And then you can take me right there." Her words come out in soft whispers and her eyes dart over your face, trying to read your reaction.

Yeji is young and beautiful and she's clearly horny enough to get herself into this kind of mess. It doesn't come as too much of a surprise to you, then, when you feel a delicate fingertip trace over your crotch. "Take you?"

"On your desk. Over your desk," she elaborates shamelessly and with a hint of cheek in her voice. There's a smug expression on her face. She's enjoying herself but also relieved to be getting through to you. "However you want me."

"So, it's an exchange? A dirty deal done in the darkness?"

Yeji smirks. "I prefer to call it reciprocation."

-

Friday night in the office and it still has the passive hum of life, though not much of it. Cutting through the air is the loud clack of Yeji's high heels as she follows you silently past empty room after empty room. The interns putting in the long hours are all on the lower floors, giving you just enough discretion.

You glance back briefly at her before rounding the corner. Just like you had imagined, she seems rather timid now. Head held slightly down and glancing around the place, almost like she's embarrassed to be here with you.

Finally, you reach your private office near the far wall of the floor and wave Yeji inside. As you step up to your desk and turn, Yeji closes the door behind herself and watches you intently. The soft light in here gives you a much better opportunity to appreciate her.

"Come." You gesture her over while simultaneously logging into your PC.

It only takes a few simple clicks to bring up a basic confidentiality agreement which you proceed to edit. "As requested," you begin. "This agreement prohibits me from writing anything related to your numerous encounters with nameless men and women in various hotels throughout Seoul. Failure to abide by these terms enables you to take legal action against me and my firm to any extent deemed necessary."

She places her palms on the desk as you turn the monitor to show her. She reads it. You read here. Leaning forward has the front of her dress hang open a bit further. It's the first glance you get of her red bra underneath and the swell of her chest, just big enough for handfuls. She sees your wandering eyes, yet continues to scan the terms of the contract. It makes you curious if the idea of being looked at like some cheap slut turns her on. Maybe you should try referring to her as such. Would she object? Or encourage?

Yeji nods in approval and you click 'print'. She looks past you, watching it emerge from the machine.

"That's all we need," you say, never looking away from her. There's something mesmerising about her eyes. They're large, they're dark and they tend to draw you in. "Now I can't expose your whorish tendencies."

She looks offended momentarily. "Whorish?"

"Two months. Forty-two hotel visits were recorded. Thirty-five different partners." The chair rolls away as you push it back and stand up, towering over her frame. "Yes, you're fucking whorish, Yeji. Our research was thorough."

"I'm just having fun." She stops leaning on the desk. You both take a step in unison, beginning to round the desk while staring each other down. The moment feels tense. "There's nothing wrong with that."

"Oh, I agree completely."

Another step. Another inch towards each other.

"There's no shame in being a bit of a slut. An incredibly beautiful slut."

A third.

You're face to face. Those heels make her almost as tall as you, and you glance at Yeji's lips as the tip of her tongue suddenly darts out over them. The only sound between the two of you is your shared breathing. Yeji tilts her head back slightly and gazes into your eyes, waiting expectantly for you to act upon your desire. Waiting for you to throw her onto the desk and fuck the living shit out of her, just as she asked for.

You wait.

Her lower lip disappears beneath the bite of her teeth.

Wait.

A sudden flush rises up onto Yeji's cheeks, undoubtedly born from her frustration, but you don't miss the excitement hiding within it either. Then, Yeji takes another step forward, one which has you taking hold of her waist, pushing yourself hard up against her body.

Almost instantly, the pair of you go from hesitant to frantic, moving without a single word being spoken between either of you.

Your mouths meet in an open-mouthed kiss of heat, passion and impatience. There's a gasp coming from somewhere, a mixture of a moan as the two of you collide. It takes more willpower than expected not to shove your tongue down Yeji's throat as you feel hers slide against yours in an instant. Fingernails dig into your neck; not hard enough to leave marks, yet not soft enough to be mistaken as anything else than a woman showing what she wants. It's exactly what you wanted to do when you first saw her tonight.

She bites on your lip, sucks on it and goes straight back in. You grab hold of her tightly and shuffle her backwards towards the desk. You can barely restrain yourself. A groan rises up in the depths of your stomach when Yeji parts her legs slightly, welcoming your body in between them.

Every part of you tells you to bend her over and start hammering yourself into her, yet there's still one last detail you must attend to. You break free of Yeji's grasp and shove her roughly down onto your desk.

Her hair fans out around her head and her gaze looks darker somehow, more lustrous under this light. You follow her shape, down, over the bumps of her breasts, the dip of her waist, the curve of her hips and then to the hem of her dress, where bare thigh begins again. She shudders under the weight of your stare. Legs falling apart, invitingly.

You feel Yeji tremble under your tender touch as you run your hand up the outside of her thigh and push up the fabric of her dress. The tips of your fingers bump along the rim of her underwear before reaching her hip where you trace shapes absentmindedly. She's smooth and silky everywhere.

"What is it?" Yeji asks breathlessly when you don't move for a few moments. Your attention remains firmly locked on that final detail. The thin lace material covering her cunt.

You look her dead in the eyes and curl your fingers around it. "Just wondering how many different people have had you like this."

The red lace is pulled aside. Yeji stares at you, seemingly taken aback by your bluntness as you lean down a little further and angle her leg to the side, letting cool air hit every inch of her bare sex. And it's a lovely sight, all things considered. Neat, trimmed and glistening wet. Your hand moves across her thigh to hold her in place. "Usually I'm on top," Yeji replies, finally regaining her confidence.

"You'd rather be riding me, huh?"

"Yes." Yeji's answer comes immediately. Your cock is stiffening already at the mere thought of having her small body bouncing in your lap as she rides your length like a bitch in heat.

She runs her own hands up her slender frame, feeling up the sides of her own waist, skirting around those perky tits and letting out the smallest whimper of anticipation as she caresses the side of her neck. Her eyelashes flutter with desire. It seems the girl enjoys being admired just as much as you enjoy admiring.

"Don't worry, you'll get to ride it soon enough." Slowly, you drag your middle finger up between her folds, making sure you put enough pressure down against the sweet little bud of nerves to make her arch her back at the sensation. A deep inhale catches itself in the back of Yeji's throat when you sink your fingertip inside of her, only for it to turn into a disappointed sigh when you withdraw.

She bites her lip in embarrassment, no doubt mortified that she couldn't keep quiet at such a simple action, although that doesn't stop you from repeating the movement, applying more pressure and then sinking further into her. This time you withdraw and then taste your finger curiously. If the sweet scent wafting off her wasn't enough indication, she tastes as good as she looks.

"How are you so wet already?" you ask. "All from thinking about getting railed over my desk, hmm?" You ask teasingly, lowering your mouth down closer to her pussy and holding your breath for a moment. You can feel the warmth coming off her.

"It's exciting."

"What, fucking a stranger?"

"Yes," Yeji says bluntly. She wets her lips. "There's nothing quite like giving yourself up to someone completely random."

Your hand slides down her calf and gently pulls off her heel. As soon as it hits the ground, it's replaced with a slow and tender kiss on the inside of her ankle. The skin is just as smooth and supple as the rest of her. From here you have a much better view of how her delicate little flower pulses in longing.

Your head dips and you suck hard on Yeji's inner thigh. You delight in the surprised yelp leaving her mouth as you rake your teeth over her soft skin, pulling at it before letting go. It leaves behind a lovely purple bruise which you blow cold air over, soothing the irritated skin. It makes you smile, knowing that mark will remain for a week, to be seen by whoever she fucks next.

"Do you get excited thinking about having me join the list of cocks pounding away at you?"

Without allowing Yeji time to think, your tongue finds her clit and starts drawing shapes around it. "Yes!" You hear her hiss. Your left arm reaches under her thigh and keeps her pinned down to the table while your right does the same, only giving your tongue freedom to dance over her wet cunt.

You sample her thoroughly, getting her used to the feeling of your warm tongue running over every part of her. You apply more pressure to your work once you notice Yeji bucking her hips upwards to grind against your mouth.

"Oh shit." Yeji is panting heavily now, gasping for breath whenever you pay special attention to her clit. Her thighs quiver every so often, tensing around your head. "Don't—don't stop."

Yeji has the nicest legs you've ever laid eyes on. The way they wrap tightly around your head, squeezing the air out of you when you suck down on her swollen clit, it feels heavenly.

Suddenly, Yeji's hips thrust forward, throwing your rhythm off momentarily.

"Mmm, oh—fuck," she whimpers as you feel her body shake and quiver underneath your touch. Your pace doesn't slacken even once throughout.

"Fuck," Yeji whines louder this time. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum."

Already?

You put more pressure on her hips, keeping them pinned down as best as possible, whilst your tongue attacks her with fervent desperation, spurred on by Yeji's declaration. As the seconds pass by, Yeji becomes more vocal, though not with her words—with her actions. Her breathing picks up noticeably. Soon it becomes short and ragged. Her chest heaves. Her fingers claw into the surface below her. Her spine curves beautifully and her lips hang open wide, allowing loud cries to escape her.

She practically sings out for you as her nails scratch at your desk, looking for something to hold on to, something to ground her. Her whole body tenses up for several moments.

Then it happens.

Her mouth opens up wide yet no sound comes out, her back arches almost unnaturally and her juices coat your chin. The silence hangs in the air, heavy, palpable as her walls contract in ecstasy. Then it's finally broken with a loud snap. One of her fake nails pops off and flies across the room as she grips too hard on the edge of the desk.

Then she moans. Guttural, wanton, unrestrained, absolutely filthy. It fills the room, reverberating back to you in a delicious chorus of hedonism and pleasure. She lies there limp with her eyes shut. Her mouth open. Panting heavily. Basking in the glow.

"So easily?" you ask quietly. Yeji takes a deep breath, trying to steady her heart rate. Your hands leave her hips, caressing her trembling flesh, sliding upwards, running up her dress and over the curve of her waist until you reach her shoulders. You tug the straps down the length of her arms and lean closer, pushing the soft material down to reveal the top of her matching red lingerie. Your hand cups the back of her head. She instinctively knows to lift it.

You lower your lips down to her collarbone as you reach behind her to unzip her dress. The sensation of your kisses against her neck draws another moan out of Yeji. A quiet one this time, however. Gentle. Contended.

You kiss upwards, planting several against the underside of her jaw and the corners of her lips. "I can't stop myself," she whispers, opening her eyes just in time for you to press your lips against hers, tasting the lingering sweetness in your mouth. She smiles.

"Let's get you out of that dress," you say and she nods in agreement. "Up," you order softly and Yeji complies, lifting herself high enough for you to pull the material down her waist and over the length of her thighs. It falls to the ground in a heap at her feet. All that remains is the expensive-looking red underwear set she chose for this occasion.

The two of you exchange looks. She bites her lip. She can see the burning lust raging within your eyes. You don't care if it gives the game away.

There's an absolutely wicked smile that draws across her lips as you start to unbutton your shirt. Her voice is all sultry seduction when she says, "I've been meaning to ask you, are you always swayed so easily?"

"Honestly? Not really," you respond calmly, watching how her eyes eagerly take in your torso as you shrug off your clothing. "Maybe there is something about you that's just..." you trail off, unsure of how to end the sentence.

Yeji sits up on the edge of the desk and throws her arms around your neck, dragging you in closer so that your bodies connect. You feel her lips press against your chest in soft kisses. A finger trails over your abdomen, drawing patterns over your skin before moving downwards. "Yes?"

"Different." Your belt is quickly undone and dropped alongside her dress. Nimble fingers begin unbuttoning your trousers. You run your hands through her hair, appreciating how silky it feels running through your fingers.

Yeji has her gaze focused between your bodies, on her hands as they push your jeans down to the floor and you notice the change in her breathing the moment she wraps her hand around your cock.

She kisses her way up to your neck where her lips tickle your skin as she mumbles: "In a good way?"

Yeji presses the flat of her palm against the base of your erection, rubbing slowly. Your head tilts backwards slightly and you allow yourself a low groan. There's a warm puff of air as she giggles quietly against your neck.

"In a great way," you answer.

"Good," she purrs, suddenly tightening her grip on you and giving you several deliberate strokes. You watch intently as Yeji runs her thumb over the tip of your dick, circling it a few times before continuing with her motions. She leans closer, wrapping her legs around your body and placing her mouth by your ear. "I know what I said earlier about loving to ride a cock and all that," her voice is filled with lust. Pure, unbridled desire. "But honestly? I'd do just about anything right now to have you fuck me against this desk."

And that does it for you.

All semblance of control vanishes entirely in a heartbeat.

You drag her from her perch, only to turn her around and push her right back against the desk. Yeji bends over the edge and places both her palms flat atop it. You watch her toned legs move apart as she spreads them invitingly. Your hand reaches out to rest on her ass.

Soft. Round. Supple. Just begging to be fucked. Your dick rests comfortably between her cheeks, which are covered by the flimsiest piece of lace you've ever seen. The pair of you groan together in anticipation at the sensation of feeling each other so intimately. The anticipation of what is soon to come.

"You want me to fuck you, huh?" you ask.

Yeji turns her head to look at you, dark strands of black hair hanging before her beautiful, desperate eyes. "Please."

She waits expectantly as you move back just enough to hook your fingers into her underwear and pull them down slowly, revealing the pretty little cunt you had tasted earlier. The desk is ever so slightly too tall for her, and her long legs stretch to rest on her tiptoes.

You run your hand down between Yeji's pert cheeks, delighting in the gasp of relief leaving her mouth as you cup her heat. Your fingers slip through her slick, coating themselves with her natural arousal before one sinks inside effortlessly. You push it deep, drawing a content sigh from her lips as your digit bottoms out.

A second follows shortly after and she clenches hard around the pair of them.

"Your cock," Yeji demands. You curl your fingers inside of her, delighted by how she struggles to speak when you graze her weak spots. "Want it..."

"But this is fun," you state simply, continuing to explore every inch of her, learning which places cause the biggest reactions and relishing in her quiet hums of satisfaction every time you stimulate them. You'd be lying if you said it didn't make your cock pulse with the need to be inside her. That warm wetness wrapped snugly around your fingers would feel downright amazing around you.

Yeji wriggles her body, pressing her ass against you and whimpering as your digits push inside again. "Please... your cock." Your eyes drop from the beauty bent over in front of you and focus instead on the sight of your fingers disappearing repeatedly between those gorgeous legs. How her muscles clench and her toes curl against the carpet with each and every motion of your digits inside her. She looks ready. She feels ready.

"Well, seeing as you're asking so nicely—"

You slip your fingers out. The whine of loss from Yeji barely has time to fade as you grab hold of her ass with both hands, spread it out, line yourself up with her cunt and sink inside without hesitation. Fuck it. Why go slow?

"Oh god," Yeji moans as your hips meet. Her knuckles turn white as she claws at the surface of the desk in an effort to cope with the feeling of fullness that she's clearly experiencing right now. Her eyes widen and she bites hard into the back of her lip as her cunt stretches around you, accommodating you perfectly. She exhales deeply.

It's all worth it—the workplace compromise. This moment right here where your thick cock rests deep inside of Hwang Yeji's warm, wet cunt. Finally. And holy fucking hell—it's everything you could've ever asked for.

"I knew you'd feel so fucking good," you murmur, trailing your hands up Yeji's slender figure, feeling her back tense slightly when she lets out a small moan of agreement. Your fingers tangle into her long hair, wrap it around your fist, give a harsh tug to pull her head backwards, earning a sharp intake of air—and then you start rutting your hips into hers. Long, forceful strokes fill the air with repeated claps of skin slapping against skin.

The choked moans which tumble from Yeji's lips are music to your ears, encouraging you to keep her pinned down against your desk with a strong hand on the small of her back. Your fingertips press into her flawless skin hard enough to bruise, yet neither of you cares—not when there are far more important matters to attend to. Namely, pounding Yeji's brains out and filling her tight little pussy with ropes of hot cum.

So, you pick up your pace, quickening the tempo and making sure each thrust of your hips goes harder than the previous. Her mouth hangs open in a silent scream with each movement of your body against hers. Every slap of your hips against her ass elicits a reaction.

You're already addicted to her. Everything about Yeji makes you want to hold nothing back, and as you pull yourself out only to slam back inside her depths, you can't help but notice the absolute debauchery dripping from her words when she begs: "Harder. Fuck me harder."

And who are you to refuse her request? She looks incredible anyway, but seeing her eyes screw shut in bliss while a strand of saliva escapes past her open mouth? Nothing would convince you to let up now.

The constant clatter of objects rattling and shifting across the surface of your desk adds a nice soundtrack to the experience. So do the increasingly frequent moans spilling freely from Yeji's lips, each one higher-pitched than the last. They spur you on. Give you the incentive to chase after her pleasure.

And then you feel the telltale clamping down of her walls around you. Your cock is held tightly in her warmth, refusing to relinquish its grasp on you until you've filled her with cum. Until you've pumped your load deep inside of her wanting cunt. You know it's coming and you adjust accordingly. Forcing yourself to maintain rhythm as you pound her pussy into submission.

You yank on her hair and tug her upwards, forcing her back to crash against your torso. You bring your other hand to her chest, sliding beneath the fabric of her bra to cup at her tit. Her hands desperately search for but fail to find, purchase on the desk. She's helplessly suspended between your grasp and your cock as she cums. Helpless to do anything except take it. Take what she's given.

An indecent series of shrieks and wails erupts from somewhere deep within her chest as Yeji's body seizes up and convulses violently against yours. It sets you off. You bury yourself hilt-deep inside of her and explode. Your vision goes blurry, your toes curl, your jaw clenches shut and your teeth grind painfully together.

It takes everything within you not to collapse forwards on top of the girl you're filling to the brim, instead relying solely on the strength of your grip to stay upright as your cock jerks erratically inside of her, pulsating again and again, releasing stream after stream of creamy spunk deep into her.

As soon as the world stops spinning and the fog starts clearing from your mind, you're met with the sight of Hwang Yeji trying desperately to regain any semblance of control over her own body as well. She's slumped atop your desk, panting heavily, her body twitching occasionally.

You lean down, peppering a gentle trail of kisses down the side of her neck, stopping briefly at the space just below her ear where you whisper, "You look stunning like this."

It takes Yeji several seconds before she manages a reply. She eventually opens her eyes halfway and gives you an exhausted smile. "Like what?"

"Sweaty. Thoroughly used. Filled to the fucking brim."

Your comment draws a faint giggle from her which ends abruptly the moment you drag yourself backwards, slipping your softening cock out of her cunt along with the rush of semen that spills from her and trickles onto your desk.

"Oh god," Yeji mutters as the mess slips from between her legs. She pushes herself up from her prone position and lifts herself off your table, leaving behind a lovely sticky patch where her crotch had rested. You stumble towards your chair and plop down on it, resting your back against the cool leather whilst admiring Yeji's flushed features.

"I still haven't gotten to ride your cock yet."

"I don't know if I—"

Yeji drops to her knees in front of you and grabs the base of your shaft without a second thought, squeezing it lightly and causing it to stiffen slightly. "Well I do," she declares.

She leans closer.

You catch sight of your reflection in her dark brown eyes just before Yeji extends her tongue, running it carefully over the sensitive skin of your cock before planting a wet kiss against the tip. Then she does it again. And again. The movements become a pattern until, suddenly, you're enveloped by the heat of Yeji's mouth.

"Ah," you gasp as she takes you. So sensitive to the touch of her tongue as it swirls around you. She hums approvingly at your reaction and slides deeper, taking your semi-erect cock further into her mouth as she continues to suck you off. Her head bobs slowly up and down, gradually coaxing you back to life until she slips you out from between her lips with a pop.

"That got you hard fast enough." Yeji grins. She stands up straight, and then your jaw falls open slightly at the sight of Yeji reaching behind her back to unclasp her bra. It falls to the ground in slow motion. Delicate pale skin stretches beautifully over perky breasts topped with cute pink nipples. God damn.

Yeji straddles your lap, trapping your body underneath hers. It doesn't take much to push you inside. To have her slide down the length of your shaft once again. She sits still for a few seconds, grinding her hips subtly against yours whilst biting on her lower lip. "Fuck, this feels good." She rotates her hips in little circles. "Feel that? I'm still full of your cum."

The pace is slower now. You're content to sit back, listen to the sounds of wet, sloppy sex filling the office air, and watch how her beautiful features contort with pleasure when your cock scrapes against a weak spot. There's something incredibly arousing about having such a famous idol sitting in your lap, fucking herself silly on your dick alone. She uses it like a toy to chase after her own pleasure.

One of her hands laces itself into your hair, tugging on it harshly. You retaliate with equal ferocity by sinking your fingers into Yeji's plump ass. It earns you a wonderful hiss of approval which comes accompanied by a tight squeeze around your shaft as her free hand moves down between your bodies and furiously rubs at her clit.

It's not long before you realise that she's close, and judging by her frantic behaviour, you figure she isn't looking to make it last longer.

Yeji whimpers cutely. Her head falls backwards, exposing her perfect neck. An expanse of unblemished, untouched skin that simply demands to be marked. Claimed. Taken.

And so you lean forwards, place your mouth on the soft skin and start sucking on it, nipping at the supple flesh. You feel her tighten around you instantly.

"Oh god!" She cries out. Yeji tries to bounce in your lap but fails miserably. She's no longer in control of her body. All she can do is quiver, cry out, and gasp in ecstasy as another orgasm surges through her. It's nowhere near as powerful as the previous two. Instead, it's drawn out. Lasting longer and keeping her moaning throughout.

When it's over and done with, you release your hold on her neck. In return, her exhausted head comes to rest against your shoulder. Her hot pants hit your cheek as she lay there limply against your frame.

"Too much?" you tease and Yeji scoffs. You give her a gentle spank and ask, "That's all you've got?"

"Just catching my breath."

She puts action to word immediately and picks herself back up. There's a determination etched all over her face as she brings both arms to rest on your shoulders, locking you in place and supporting herself on top of you. The expression she wears leaves little room for misinterpretation; this one is yours.

Yeji begins riding you again. Slowly at first, letting herself grow accustomed to the sensation of being filled again. Then faster. Harder. Using your cock to fuck herself on. Taking charge once more. You happily allow her to have it. Glad to let the beautiful starlet do whatever the fuck she wants with your body. Relishing the fact that you're balls-deep inside of her and she loves every inch of you.

"I need it," Yeji whines, slamming herself down on top of you again and again, her soft ass smacking against your thighs repeatedly. Her hair billows wildly around her, sticking to her sweaty skin, flying every which way without rhyme or reason, driven mad by her insatiable desire to keep on going. She keeps saying things under her breath, nonsensical at best, unintelligible at worst.

But her efforts get results. As much as you want to prolong the moment forever, your body can only handle so much. Pleasure courses through your veins like electricity, setting alight every nerve ending within your body until finally, you feel that familiar heat rise from somewhere deep within.

Yeji must sense it because she suddenly kicks it up yet another notch, crying out incoherently as she drops down on your shaft once more, twice more—a third time sends you toppling over the edge. You grip her hips tight, digging your fingertips deep into her flesh as your cock pulses powerfully inside of her cunt, painting her walls white.

She drags it out. Uses gravity to force you as deep inside as possible, allowing every single drop to spill inside of her again. Your eyes roll into the back of your skull as you grunt loudly. Any coherent thought becomes impossible as you cum.

Once more, it takes several moments before you come back down from the clouds. When reality sets in again, Yeji is still straddled atop your lap, watching you with an amused grin stretching from ear to ear. You're left with nothing else to do except admire how her flushed cheeks accentuate her gorgeous features even further.

"I know. I know," she says while stroking your cheek. "I'm amazing."

"You're trouble," you correct breathlessly.

She rolls her eyes at your choice of words and then glances downwards. You follow her gaze just in time to see her raise herself off your spent member, allowing several thick strands of cum to dribble from her cunt and onto your leg. You both share a brief laugh at how filthy it looks before Yeji clambers off you and steps away, leaving you completely bare whilst she reaches down to retrieve her panties.

"No," you blurt out immediately. Your interjection catches her attention and she halts mid-motion, quirking an eyebrow curiously.

"No?"

"You can leave them."

She gives you a knowing look but acquiesces anyway, stepping aside and grabbing her dress instead. "Disgusting," she winks with a coy smirk.

[meazalykov]

baby its cold outside

barcelona femeni x salma paralluelo x finnish!reader requested

summary: the request

merry christmas!!!

the snow crunches beneath your boots as you lead the group toward the log cabin nestled deep in the forests of rovaniemi. 

the cold bites at your cheeks, but it doesn’t bother you. this is home, and it’s always been beautiful no matter how many winters you’ve spent here. you glance back, a grin tugging at your lips as you watch your girlfriend, salma, and your teammates—vicky, martina, sydney, jana, and kika—trying to maneuver through the snow, bundled up in layers upon layers of thick coats, scarves, and hats. 

for most of them, this is their first experience with real snow, and their reactions are nothing short of hilarious.

“i swear, i’ve never seen this much snow in my life, shit i think my eyes are blinded by the brightness” vicky says, her voice muffled by the scarf wrapped tightly around her neck. 

“do people actually live here?” kika mutters, her portuguese nose red from the cold as she tries to step into the packed down path you’re making for them.

you chuckle softly, slowing your pace so they can catch up. 

“yes, kika, people live here. it’s not that bad once you’re used to it.”

“used to it?” martina exclaims, dramatically pulling her gloves tighter. 

“my toes are going numb, and we’ve only been outside for five minutes.”

salma catches your eye, her own lips twitching into a small smile as she shakes her head at the antics of your friends. her cheeks are somewhat flushed from the cold, and the spanish woman tucks a stray strand of her dark hair into her hat. 

even in layers that nearly swallow her whole, she’s beautiful. the sight of her here, in your world, makes your chest feel warm despite the icy air around you.

when you finally reach the cabin, you pause and turn back to them, throwing your arms out. 

“ta-da!” you announce. 

the girls gape at the cabin. it’s exactly what you wanted—cozy yet spacious, its wooden exterior dusted with snow, smoke curling from the chimney, and fairy lights strung along the railings of the porch. a warm glow spills from the windows, promising comfort and warmth inside.

“it looks like it came straight out of one of those christmas movies jill shows me,” jana says, her eyes wide.

“please tell me there’s a fireplace,” sydney adds, stomping the snow off her boots as she makes her way to the door. 

you laugh, grabbing the keys from your pocket and unlocking the door. 

“of course there’s a fireplace, and hot chocolate waiting inside.”

as everyone piles in, kicking off their boots and shedding their layers, you guide salma toward the couch by the fireplace. she sinks into the cushions with a sigh, and you sit beside her, pulling her close under the thick blanket already draped there.

“better?” you ask, tilting your head to look at her.

she nods, resting her head on your chest. 

“much better.”

meanwhile, the others are exploring the cabin, voices echoing through the space. sydney is already inspecting the kitchen, while vicky is pulling an xbox out of her carry-on bag, much to everyone’s confusion.

“you brought an xbox?” martina asks, her tone caught between disbelief and amusement.

vicky shrugs nonchalantly. 

“we have downtime, and fifa’s a must.”

you roll your eyes fondly, turning your attention back to salma.

“so, what do you think? worth braving the cold?”

she leans into you, her dark eyes meeting yours with a teasing glint. “baby, it’s cold outside,” she murmurs, a playful pout on her lips.

you laugh softly, brushing your lips against her temple. 

“yeah, love, we are in finland. what did you expect?”

salma’s laughter is warm and light, and it makes your heart swell. moments like this, with her wrapped up in your arms, make you forget the freezing temperatures and the chaos of bringing your friends to your hometown.

the next morning, you decide it’s time to introduce the girls to some true finnish winter activities. breakfast is a lively affair, with sydney teasing kika about her dramatic reaction to the cold, and martina snapping pictures of the snowy view outside the window. after everyone’s bundled up again, you lead them out to a nearby trail for cross-country skiing.

“okay,” you say, holding up a pair of skis, 

“this is one of my favorite winter sports. it’s not as hard as it looks, i promise.”

your words are met with skeptical stares. salma raises an eyebrow at you. 

“are you sure about that?”

“positive,” you reply with a grin. 

“just watch me.”

“alexia is going to freak out if you come back to barca injured!!” vicky calls out. 

“i won’t, i know what i am doing!” you laugh. 

“we don't!” sydney protests.

you strap on your skis and push off, gliding smoothly over the snow. the wind bites at your face, but it’s exhilarating, the kind of freedom you’ve missed since moving to barcelona. you glance back, expecting to see the others following your lead… instead, you’re met with chaos.

kika is flat on her back, her skis tangled beneath her, while martina tries—and fails—to help her up. jana wobbles dangerously before falling into a snowbank, and vicky is clutching onto sydney for dear life as they both struggle to stay upright. 

salma, to her credit, manages a few awkward glides before losing her balance and landing on her knees.

you can’t help but laugh, the sound echoing through the trees. 

“come on, it’s not that bad!” you call out, stopping to wait for them.

salma glares at you playfully, brushing snow off her gloves. 

“easy for you to say, ms. finnish! you’re a natural.”

“and you will be too, with a little practice,” you tease, skiing back to her. you help her to her feet, your hands lingering on hers for a moment longer than necessary. 

“you’re doing great, though.”

her expression softens, and she leans in close enough for only you to hear. 

“you’re lucky i love you.”

your heart skips a beat, and you grin. 

“i know, and i love you too.”

by the time you all make it back to the cabin, everyone is exhausted but in high spirits. hot chocolate is the first thing on your mind, and you quickly set to work in the kitchen, heating milk and stirring in cocoa powder while salma hovers nearby, sneaking marshmallows from the bag.

when the mugs are ready, you carry them to the living room, where the others are already sprawled out on the couches and floor. vicky has fifa up and running, and the sound of friendly banter fills the room.

you hand a mug to salma and sit beside her on the couch, draping the blanket over your laps. she takes a sip, her eyes fluttering shut as she savors the warmth. 

“delicious,” she murmurs.

you steal a sip from her mug, earning a mock glare. 

“sharing is caring,” you say innocently.

she rolls her eyes but doesn’t protest, leaning against you as you both watch the chaos unfolding around you. kika is yelling at jana for a missed goal, while martina and sydney cheer on their teams from the sidelines.

the xbox, as ridiculous as it was to bring, has brought the perfect amount of holiday cheer to the cabin.

outside, snow begins to fall again, soft and silent. inside, the warmth of the fire and the love of your friends make the cold seem a distant memory. 

you tighten your arm around salma, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“thank you for bringing us here,” she says softly, her voice barely audible over the laughter and shouts of your friends. 

“this is… it’s special.”

you smile, your heart full. 

“you’re welcome, love. i’m glad you’re here to share it with me.”

masterlist

[theofficalnarrator]

Luv ur post! Could u write more little oneshots like “Old With You” with Sophia?☺️LIKE ITS ACTUALLY SO CUTE🥰🥰🥰

OLD WITH YOU PT.2

Summary: Some more clips of our favorite old married couple.

Warnings: Both kinda mean to one another, cuss words, attempts at humor, they "play" fight, gay, + christamas content for the holidays!!!

---

[INTRO: Our fav old married couple that is not confirmed (yet) is back at it again! Here's some more moments of Y/N and Sophia from Katseye acting like an old married couple and making me feel hella single.]

[CUT TO: A cozy living room, softly lit with fairy lights. The camera is set up for a live stream, capturing Sophia and Y/N sitting side by side on a plush couch. The relaxing environment is a sharp contrast to their heated debate.]

“Okay, okay! Let’s not forget about your obsession with leaving ingredients out after making something!” Sophia starts, causing the other girl to roll her eyes.

Y/N turns to the camera. "Okay, Eyekons, do you know how annoying it is to ask this...," Y/N makes a face as she motions towards Sophia with a look of mock disgust ," I don't even know- THING?!"

"Hey!"

"Shush! I ask her "Hey, Soph, I'm gonna go grab something or I'm gonna go make something, you want some"", Y/N moves her head as a disgruntled Sophia throws a pillow at her ," and she says "no, I'm good!"..... AND THEN EATS MY FOOD?"

[I can't defend you Sophia, I would be pissed too]

The Filipina is doubled over, giggling, clearly amused by her fellow member's pissed of facial expression. Y/N bristles, crossing her arms. "It's not funny!"

---

[WEVERSE - Y/NTheMan - Bro I just got out of the shower and can't find my hoodie]

[WEVERSE - Y/NTheMan - all I want for Christmas is more hoodies]

[WEVERSE - Y/NTheMan - how much money do you want to bet Eyekons that one of the girls stole it???]

[not so subtle foreshadowing ]

[CUT TO: A live stream is rolling, and the camera captures Sophia sitting comfortably on the couch, her hair in a messy bun, wearing a cozy hoodie. Sophia is animatedly chatting with the audience, her laughter filling the room.]

"So, guys, the I walk into the kitchen and Megan is holding a pot... and it's on fire! She was screaming and y—"

At that exact moment, the unmistakable sound of a door opening off screen is heard. Y/N walks into frame (or her lower body does). She freezes for a moment, processing the sight.

"..Is that my hoodie?", Y/N asks, the audience only being able to see her clenched fists and her slightly annoyed voice. Sophia looks up, feigning innocence, and shrugs nonchalantly.

[oop-]

"What? This old thing? I found it lying around."

[mind you, that's a limited edition hoodie LMAO]

"Lying around? I laid it out on my bed so I can wear it after I shower!" Sophia simply responds with a smirk, clearly enjoying the moment.

"Well, you snooze, you lose, babe. Besides, it looks better on me." Y/N sits down on the couch, finally her whole body in frame. The newcomer rolls her eyes dramatically, crossing her arms. Sophia laughs, leaning back into the couch, clearly unfazed.

["babe" I would have folded if that was me, Y/N]

[WEVERSE - Y/NTheMan - *attachment 5 images* Bro not only did she steal my hoodie but she fell asleep on HER OWN LIVE. Sorry for how awkward the live was eyekons]

[chat... idk what's a bigger deal: Sophia fell asleep on Y/N OR Y/N let her!]

---

[CUT TO: The camera opens with Y/N and Sophia walking into a bustling movie theater, the bright lights and the smell of popcorn filling the air. Yoonchae, the youngest of the trio, is bouncing with excitement.]

They approach the concession stand, and the squabbling begins.

“I want popcorn, nachos, and a soda! Can we get all of that?”

[Yoonchae is so me bc I'm also a big back]

Y/N raises an eyebrow. Ever since the Korean had came to America, she was alike a sponge when it came to trying new food. A while back, the Kats were watching some movie and Yoonchae had at that moment decided that she would have to try all those food items if she ever got to go to the movie theater. Y/N was not as happy, knowing it would come out of her pockets. “All of that? You’re going to explode before the movie even starts.”

Sophia however nudges the other girl. “Let her live! It’s a special occasion.” Y/N narrows her eyes, knowing the only reason that Sophia is open to the idea is because Y/N would buy and hold everything for them.

Y/N simply responds with a sigh, and flips Sophia off behind Yoonchae's back. As Y/N suspects, Sophia pulls Yoonchae away when the time to pay comes. Y/N begrudgingly swipes her card and carries the food items over to where the girls are. The trio loiter around the soda machines for a bit, and a small part of Y/N is happy that she spent all that money to have Yoonchae smile ear to ear.

[No wonder Sophia was on Yoonchae's side, the two had a sugar mommy paying for everything]

Y/N's soft eyes towards the Korean girl as she pours butter into the popcorn is interruptted by a voice whispering in her ear. "Thanks for the food, Y/Nie-"

"Fuck off, Soph." The Filipina simply responds with a giggle.

[lmao the fact that they didn't cut this out-]

They finally get their snacks and head into the theater, where they find their seats. Yoonchae is practically bouncing in her seat, while Y/N and Sophia settle in, ready for the show to start.

As the movie begins, the three of them are glued to the screen, enjoying the magical world of Wicked. The music swells, and the story unfolds beautifully.

As the movie nears its emotional climax, Y/N notices Sophia wiping her eyes. She moves the vlog camera to capture Sophia's heartfelt response.

Y/N leans, over, her breath tickling Sophia's neck from the closeness. “Sophia, are you crying?-"

“Shut up!", Sophia whisper-yells as she sniffles ,"It’s just… it’s so beautiful... and sad.” Y/N giggles reaching out and wiping Sophia's tears away as the leader stuffs her mouth with popcorn.

[ME WHEN LORD, ME WH-]

[s the movie reaches its conclusion, the lights come up, and Yoonchae is practically glowing with excitement.

“That was amazing! I loved every second of it!” The youngest bounces up, dried tears on her cheeks. Y/N and Sophia chuckle in response, both wiping off the remnants from the brown-haired girl's cheeks.

[so jealous of Yoonchae cause I want Y/NSoph to be my parents]

They all stand up, still buzzing with energy from the movie, and head out of the theater, chatting and laughing together.

---

[CUT TO: The camera is set up in the kitchen, festively decorated with garlands and twinkling lights. A cheerful holiday tune plays softly in the background. Y/N and Sophia stand behind a counter filled with baking ingredients, wearing matching aprons.]

Y/N grins at the camera, waving with one hand while the other is gripping the counter as Sophia smothers tightens her apron from behind. “Welcome back, Eyekons! Today, we’re going to bake some holiday cookies! We'll try our best.”, The camera catches Y/N smacking Sophia's hands as the Filipina continues to tighten her apron and continues ," We're not the best at cooking and bak-"

Sophia interjects with a scoff and an eye roll. “Speak for yourself. I’m a baking pro.” The leader starts opening the ingredients, examine which ones they need.

“Right... The same pro who burned brownies last time?” The other girl says as she gives a knowing look into the camera as if she were on The Office.

[not the shade, Y/N being messy era]

“That was one time! And they were still edible… sort of.”

[edible?! THEY ATE IT??]

The two jump into the recipe. Their goal: make frosted cookies for the girls (without killing one another). As Sophia pours the flour, she accidentally knocks over a bag of sugar, sending a cloud of white powder into the air.

"... really, baking pro?"

"It was an accident!" Sophia exclaims, defensively. As the camera zooms in on the two, it's apparent that Sophia's cheeks are dusted pink to match her lips. However, viewers know damn well it's from embarrassment and not from her blush.

"Here, give it to me" Y/N says, reaching out her hand to grab the flour. Sophia pulls her hands away, a bit of flour flying into the air out from the bag.

"No, I got it-"

"No, you don't, just g-"

"No! Go aw-"

The two go back and forth, their hands gripping either side of the flour bag. Botha re too engrossed in fighting for the flour bag they don't catch the crew behind the camera calling for a timeout. Back and forth the flour bag goes until...

FLOOF! The bag rips, the flour flying into the air between the Katseye duo and dropping onto the floor.

"Sophia..." Y/N says, her voice far too low. Sophia may be the leader, but the only person that she was scared of besides Sleepy Yoonchae, was Y/N. And the voice the other was using caused her to gulp.

"I-... I didn't mean to!"

"Oh, really! You piece of sh-"

[THE CUT OFF IS SENDING ME]

[CUT TO: The camera captures the two again, the kitchen cleaned up from the flour spill and the two seeming calm, despite still being covered in flour.]

"Annnnd, we're back. Sorry about that, Eyekons. Someone had an oopsie" Y/N says, side-eyeing the leader. Sophia sighs, a bit of flour dribbling off of her, knowing that she should interject. They continue baking, but as Y/N mixes the ingredients, she gets a little too enthusiastic, splattering batter everywhere. Sophia grabs a spatula and playfully smacks Y/N’s arm. The other girl glares, but it's not with the same intensity as before. She's clearly calmed down.

[aww they look so cute]

“Careful there, Y/Nie. We’re not trying to redecorate the kitchen." Sophia says teasingly, rubbing a bit of spare flour off of the girl's nose.

Y/N rolls her eyes playfully. "That's Chef L/N to you. And I am being careful, this bowl is too small."

"Here... ", Sophia motions for Y/N to give it to here, " Let me." The Filipina is half-surprised when the other actually relents. It seems that they're both sobered up after the flour incident. As Sophia mixes, Y/N pushes a stray strand of hair from Sophia's bun and pushes it past her ear.

"Y/N..." Sophia warns, her eyes on the batter, not trusting herself to look into the other's eyes.

"Mmm?..." Y/N says with a teasing smile.

[MS. L/N BEHAVE YOURSELF]

They move on to rolling out the dough, but Sophia struggles to keep it from sticking to the counter. In a moment of frustration, she flings flour into the air, creating a mini snowstorm.

“Sophia! We’re going to be cleaning this up until New Year’s!” Y/N gasps out, smacking the leader's shoulder softly. That's what everyone assumes until Y/N continues smacking Sophia and it hits her. Y/N is dusting off the flour off of Sophia.

["she's so wifey material!" I scream as they pull me into the asylum]

They finally cut out cookie shapes, but as they place them on the baking sheet, Y/N accidentally drops one, and it lands face down.

"Shit." Y/N says. She immediately whips her head up, staring right into the camera. Sophia, who's busy rearranging the cookies, doubles over. She's silent, but from the way her shoulders shake, it's easy to tell that the leader is laughing.

[Y/N's been spending too much time w Manon it seems]

Y/N sighs, gulping as she nudges Sophia. "Stop..." Y/N whines out softly. The Filipina simply throws her head back and laughs harder.

As they put the cookies in the oven, Y/N sets a timer, but Sophia, distracted by her phone, accidentally resets it. Y/N notices a while later as she looks at the clock.

“Sophia... Did you just reset the timer?”

"Mmm?.." The Filipina looks up, looking at the clock. As it hits them that it's been reset they look at each other with wide eyes.

“We’re going to burn the cookies!” Y/N says exasperated. They both rush to the oven, but as they open it, a plume of smoke billows out. The cookies are charred beyond recognition. The two stand in silence for a couple of minutes. Sophia nervously looks behind at the camera and the crew.

"Y/N... I didn't mean to..." Sophia says softly, fidgeting with her hands. Upon not hearing a response, Sophia looks down at her feet. She almost looks like a little kid being chastised by her parent. The audience watches with held breaths as Y/N sighs, bringing one of her hands up to her temples.

[ooooooooh...]

Sophia's lower lip trembles. "Y/N... please..."

[wait I actually felt so bad for Sophia here hehehehe]

The sound it cut off by a giggle... Coming from Y/N. The girl starts laughing, her shoulders shaking as she places her head on the counter as she chuckles. Sophia's left a bit dumbfounded and lost, but at least she knows that the other girl isn't angry.

As Y/N finally seems to calm down, she turns to the camera, laughing. Sophia asks, " Y/N... are you angry?"

"Huh?... What? No! This is hilarious!" The girl says wiping away tears that came to her eyes from the baking fiasco. Seeing the girl giggle, Sophia finally cracks a smile, punching the girl on the shoulder.

"Don't scare me like that! I was so scared!" Sophia exclaims, her teary eyes and trembling lower lip, making her look adorable.

[CUT TO: The girls are back in their original positions. Their clothes and aprons are dusted and on the counter there are a pack of frosted cookies, store-brought.]

"Well..." Sophia starts.

They both burst into laughter, and Y/N up one of the store-brought cookies.

“Merry Christmas, everyone! May your cookies be better than ours!" They both take a bite of the frosted cookie, laughing, as the camera fades out with their cheerful banter and holiday spirit.

[real they're so me]

---

[CUT TO: The camera is set up in a cozy, softly lit room. Y/N sits on a stool in front of a microphone, headphones on her ear, guitar in hand, looking a bit nervous but excited. A small sign in the background reads “KATSEYE in the Booth”]

Y/N smiles at the camera, her hair falling gracefully over her shoulders and sashays as she speaks. “Hey, Eyekons! Welcome back to the KATSEYE in the Booth!"

Y/N pulls her acoustic guitar and places it over her lap, ready to play. "Today, I’m doing something a little special. I’m going to cover a song that means a lot to me, and I have to give a huge shoutout to my best friend, Sophia, for introducing me to it.”

[Y/N you can't even trick historians, they know you're both gay-]

"The song is 'Lover' by Taylor Swift!," Y/N gives a knowing smile to the camera, "I know, I know. We all know I'm not a big Swiftie, but I've been converted."

[insert I know what you are meme]

Y/N gives and smile to the camera, as if she's reminiscing something... or someone. "This song is just so beautiful and romantic, and every time I hear it, I think of all the amazing moments I've shared with my favorite Swiftie. So, here goes nothing!”

As Y/N strums the first chords on her guitar, the atmosphere becomes intimate. She takes a deep breath and begins to sing a soft, romantic melody, her voice gentle and heartfelt. The camera captures close-ups of Y/N as she pours her emotions into the song, her eyes occasionally drifting to the camera, smiling and even winking at one point.

Y/N’s voice carries a warmth that fills the room, creating a cozy atmosphere. As the song reaches its climax, Y/N closes her eyes, fully immersed in the moment. The camera captures the raw emotion on her face, showcasing her passion for the music.

[... does anyone else want to make out w her or is it just me?]

After finishing the song, Y/N opens her eyes and looks at the camera, a shy smile spreading across her face.

“...I hope you all enjoyed that." Y/N says, giggling softly. She then points straight into the camera in a Uncle Sam manner and says, "And Sophia, thank you for introducing me to this song. It really means a lot to me.”

“Alright, Eyekons, let me know what you think in the comments! Happy holidays, everyone!”

---

[WEVERSE - Lara RAJ - *attachement 3 photos, 1 video*]

[WEVERSE - Lara RAJ - guess which two ppl had to kiss cause of the mistletoe!]

[CUT TO: A cozy living room adorned with holiday decorations. A large mistletoe hangs from the ceiling, twinkling lights casting a warm glow around the space. Y/N and Sophia are sitting on a plush couch, surrounded by festive pillows and blankets, both looking a bit shy as the girls behind the camera (unmistakably the other kats), loudly exclaim]

 “Come on, you two! It’s tradition! You have to kiss!” the voice belongs to Megan, who giggles alongside the other girls off-camera. Y/N and Sophia shake their heads.

“Yeah, don’t be shy! Just a quick peck!” The voice is Lara, the cameraperson, who snorts as Y/N shakes her head frantically. Someone throws a pillow at the two, trying to coax them.

 “But we don’t want to! Right, Sophia?” Y/N asks, trying to stand up to the other Kats as she turns to her fellow Kat who's stuck in the same sticky situation.

“Exactly! We’re just friends.” The camera turns around to Lara and Daniela's face's, both giving the camera a "really?" look. The teasing continues, and the friends start chanting, egging them on.

[LMAO even the other girls know]

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

Y/N and Sophia exchange glances, both clearly embarrassed from the obvious redness on dusted over both of their cheeks.

 “What do we do?” Y/N whispers nervously to Sophia, noticing how the Kats won't stop. Sophia is caught a bit off guard as the ususal stoic and confident member is actually asking her for advice.

Sophia bites her lip, looking up at Y/N through her eyelashes. “I guess we could just… do a cheek kiss? It’s less awkward, right?”

“O-Okay, fine..... On three?” Y/N nervously agrees, gulping.

“Yeah, on three.”

They both lean in slightly.

"One" They say in unison.

Their matching rhythm causes the two to look back up into each other's eyes.

"Two"

Their hearts race as they lean even closer, their breath mingling.

"Three.."

They both lean in and quickly peck each other on the cheek, their faces turning bright red as they pull away, giggling nervously. The Kats cheer and woop, Lara zooming the camera into the girl's faces to catch their flustered reactions.

[I just know Hybe and Geffen are sending emails to these girls right now]

Y/N and Sophia exchange shy smiles, their embarrassment slowly fading as they join in the laughter of their friends.

[WEVERSE - peanutbutterlover02 - they didn't kiss one another, just on each others cheeks BORING]

[WEVERSE - mei mei - LMAO BRO I JUST NOTICED HOW RED THEY ARE ]

---

Hey Y'all! I finally finished redoing my research paper! We're in the final stages and I REALLY hope that it actually works out. Anyways, I've been pretty caught up in that and that's why I've being pushing this off. I still haven't started on the Megan fic ;-; Lowkey think I should just stick with these formats since it's quicker.

[novaursa]

The North Remembers Her (duty)

- Summary: He captured you, but you will not allow him to break you.

- Paring: stark!reader/Ramsay Bolton

- Rating: Explicit 18+ (for Ramsay being himself)

- Previous part: the wolf's teeth

- Next part: to prove something

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround

The dining hall of the Dreadfort is as cold as ever, the fire in the hearth doing little to chase away the chill that seeps through the stone walls. The long table is laid with modest fare—venison stew, crusty bread, and a pitcher of sour ale. You sit at one end of the table, Ramsay across from you, and Roose Bolton presiding at the head. Lady Walda sits at Roose’s side, her rosy cheeks glowing in the firelight as she picks at her food with small, dainty bites.

The air in the room is charged, as it always is when the Boltons gather. The scrape of knives on plates echoes louder than it should, filling the silence like a dirge. You cut into your meat with slow, deliberate movements, your expression calm and detached, ignoring the undercurrent of unease that hums through the air.

Roose is the first to speak, his voice quiet but sharp enough to cut through the stillness. “It’s been some time since your wedding.” He doesn’t look up from his plate, his pale eyes focused on the food before him. “And yet, there’s been no news of an heir.”

The words land like a stone in the middle of the table. You don’t flinch, your movements measured as you place a small piece of bread in your mouth and chew slowly. Ramsay, however, stiffens visibly, his grip tightening on the knife in his hand.

“My lord,” Ramsay begins, forcing a smile onto his face, “these things take time. We’re… settling into our roles as husband and wife.”

Roose looks up then, his expression unreadable but his tone laced with disappointment. “Time is a luxury we don’t have. Lady Walda is already with child.”

At this, Lady Walda smiles nervously, her hand drifting to her swollen belly. “The maester says it’s a strong one,” she says softly, her voice hesitant but warm. “He believes it will be a boy.”

Ramsay’s smile falters, his eyes flicking to you for a brief moment. You continue eating, unbothered by the conversation swirling around you. The stew is hearty, its warmth a small comfort in the otherwise frigid hall.

“And should it be a boy,” Roose continues, his voice calm but pointed, “his claim to the Dreadfort will be stronger than yours. Stark blood or not, your position is far from secure without an heir of your own.”

The tension thickens, and you feel Ramsay’s eyes burning into you, though you don’t look up.

“My lord,” Ramsay says, his voice tighter now, “you know I’ve always been loyal to you. My position—”

“Your position,” Roose interrupts, setting his fork down with deliberate care, “depends on more than loyalty. It depends on results. A Stark bride is only valuable if she gives you a Stark heir.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and unyielding. Lady Walda shifts uncomfortably in her seat, her gaze darting between the three of you.

You finish your bread and reach for your cup of ale, taking a slow sip as though you haven’t heard a word of the conversation.

Ramsay’s knuckles whiten around the handle of his knife. “She’s… difficult,” he says through gritted teeth, his eyes locked on you.

Roose raises an eyebrow, his gaze flicking to you. “Difficult, is she?”

“She doesn’t…” Ramsay hesitates, clearly struggling to phrase his thoughts without sounding weak. “She doesn’t make it easy.”

You finally look up, meeting Roose’s gaze with a calm, unreadable expression. “Perhaps your son isn’t as persuasive as he believes.”

Ramsay’s chair scrapes loudly against the stone floor as he stands abruptly, his grin forced and strained. “Shall I be persuasive, wife?” he asks, his tone light but his eyes burning with barely contained fury.

You take another sip of ale, unfazed. “You’ve tried. It hasn’t worked.”

Roose’s lips twitch faintly, the closest thing to amusement you’ve ever seen from him. “Ramsay, it seems your wife is more formidable than you anticipated.”

Ramsay’s jaw tightens, and his smile sharpens into something more like a snarl. “She’ll learn her place.”

“Will I?” you ask, tilting your head slightly.

The room falls silent again, the air thick with unspoken threats. Lady Walda shifts awkwardly in her seat, her eyes fixed firmly on her plate.

Roose leans back in his chair, his gaze settling on Ramsay. “Consider this your warning, Ramsay. Should Lady Walda give me a son, your position will be… reconsidered.”

Ramsay doesn’t respond, his knuckles white against the wood of his chair.

You place your cup down with deliberate care, the sound soft but resonant in the quiet hall. “If there’s nothing else, I believe I’ve had enough for the evening.”

Without waiting for permission, you rise from your seat and leave the hall, your footsteps echoing against the cold stone.

Behind you, you can feel Ramsay’s fury radiating like heat, but you don’t look back.

For the first time, you leave the table with the quiet satisfaction of knowing that, for all his cruelty, Ramsay Bolton had been rendered powerless—if only for a moment.

The air in your chamber is cold, but it feels like nothing compared to the chill of Ramsay’s presence. He leans against the doorframe, his pale blue eyes fixed on you with an unsettling mix of calculation and irritation. His grin is faint, but the tension in his shoulders betrays the tightly leashed frustration simmering beneath his carefully constructed facade.

You sit by the hearth, a book in your lap, feigning disinterest. The fire crackles softly, its warmth doing little to combat the cold weight of his stare.

“Do you intend to ignore me all night, wife?” Ramsay finally asks, his voice light but carrying an edge.

You glance up briefly, your expression calm, before returning to your book. “You don’t often bring anything worth listening to.”

His grin sharpens, but there’s no humor in it. He steps into the room, the sound of his boots against the stone floor loud in the quiet. “You’re quite the stubborn little wolf, aren’t you? Always so defiant.”

“I wouldn’t call it defiance,” you reply evenly. “Just… disinterest.”

The flicker of irritation in his eyes is quick but unmistakable. He moves closer, his hands clasped behind his back, as though trying to present himself as composed.

“Do you think this is a game?” he asks, his voice dropping into something softer, darker. “Do you think I don’t see what you’re doing?”

You close your book deliberately, setting it aside as you meet his gaze. “And what am I doing, Ramsay?”

His grin vanishes entirely, replaced by a cold intensity. “You’re testing me. Pushing me. And while I enjoy a good game, this one is wearing thin.”

You lean back in your chair, your expression calm. “You’re mistaken. I’m not testing you. I just have no interest in pretending this marriage is anything more than a farce.”

Ramsay’s jaw tightens, and he steps closer, his shadow stretching across you. “It’s not a farce, wife. It’s a bond. A bond that you’ve so far refused to honor.”

“Honor?” you repeat, a hint of dry amusement in your tone. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

His hand slams against the mantle of the hearth, the sudden movement making the flames flicker. “Do not mock me.”

You don’t flinch, your gaze steady. “Then don’t insult me with talk of honor.”

For a moment, the tension between you is thick enough to suffocate. Ramsay straightens, his expression smoothing into something eerily calm, though his eyes remain sharp.

“Let me be clear,” he says quietly, his voice carrying an unmistakable threat. “You will do your duty. One way or another.”

“And let me be clear,” you reply, your tone steady and unwavering. “You will never have me. Not willingly. You can force me, if that’s what you want, but it won’t change anything. You think taking what you want will break me?” You lean forward slightly, your voice dropping to a whisper. “You’ll only make me hate you more.”

His smile returns, sharp and humorless, but there’s a flicker of something behind it—uncertainty.

“You’re not afraid of me,” he says, almost to himself.

“Should I be?” you ask, tilting your head slightly.

He chuckles, though it lacks his usual mirth. “Everyone’s afraid of me, little wolf. Even my father.”

“Then perhaps that says more about them than it does about you,” you say calmly.

His grin falters, his pale eyes narrowing. “You think you’re untouchable. You think you can outlast me.”

“I don’t think,” you reply, rising from your chair and stepping closer to him. “I know. You want to know why, Ramsay?”

He says nothing, his jaw tightening as you take another step forward, standing so close that you can see the faint flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.

“Because you need me,” you say softly, your voice like steel. “You need me alive, you need me intact, and you need me to give you what your father demands. But I don’t need you. You can hurt me, you can try to break me, but at the end of the day, you’ll still be a bastard pretending to be a lord.”

The silence that follows is deafening. Ramsay stares at you, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. For the first time, you feel the faintest ripple of satisfaction���you’ve rattled him.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he says finally, his voice low and tight.

“Perhaps,” you reply, your gaze unyielding. “But you’ll find I’m very good at games.”

He watches you for a moment longer before turning abruptly, his boots echoing against the stone floor as he strides to the door.

Before he leaves, he pauses, glancing back over his shoulder. “You’ll regret this, wife.”

“Perhaps,” you say again, your voice calm. “But not tonight.”

The door slams shut behind him, and you let out a slow, measured breath. The fire crackles softly in the silence, and for the first time in weeks, you feel a flicker of triumph.

Ramsay Bolton may be the monster of the Dreadfort, but tonight, he walked away. And that, in itself, is a victory.

The woods surrounding the Dreadfort are quiet but alive with the rustle of wind through barren branches and the crunch of snow underfoot. The hunting party moves through the frozen forest like shadows, the breath of men and hounds misting in the cold air.

Ramsay rides at the front, his grin as sharp as the dagger strapped to his hip. Reek trails behind him, hunched over and shivering despite his heavy cloak. You ride just behind Ramsay, your expression stoic as your horse navigates the uneven terrain. The air is thick with anticipation—the kind of tension that always accompanies Ramsay’s games.

“This will be good for you, wife,” Ramsay calls over his shoulder, his voice carrying easily through the stillness. “A chance to prove you’re more than just a stubborn wolf.”

You don’t respond, your gaze fixed on the path ahead.

The hounds bark suddenly, their noses to the ground as they pick up the scent. The kennelmaster shouts commands, and the dogs surge forward, dragging their handlers with them.

“Ah, there it is,” Ramsay says, his grin widening. “Our prey awaits.”

The group slows as the hounds come to a halt, circling a small clearing. The deer is cornered, its wide eyes filled with panic as it struggles to find an escape. Its breath mists in the air, its body tense and trembling.

Ramsay dismounts with practiced ease, drawing his bow as he approaches the edge of the clearing. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” he says, his voice low and almost reverent. He turns to you, his pale blue eyes glinting with something dark. “Why don’t you take the shot, wife? Let’s see if you’ve got Stark blood in those veins after all.”

You slide off your horse, accepting the bow one of his men offers. The weight of it feels familiar in your hands—a reminder of Winterfell and the lessons you’d had in the Godswood. Ramsay steps back, watching you with an expression of eager curiosity, like a cat waiting to pounce.

You step forward, your movements deliberate and controlled. The deer is still, its chest heaving, as you notch the arrow and draw the string.

The world narrows. Your breath steadies. You release the arrow.

It flies true, striking the deer cleanly in the heart. The animal staggers, its legs buckling as it collapses into the snow. Its death is quick, merciful.

The clearing is silent for a moment, save for the soft growls of the hounds and the murmurs of Ramsay’s men. Then Ramsay laughs, the sound loud and grating in the stillness.

“Well done, wife!” he exclaims, clapping his hands together. “It seems there’s a hunter in you after all.”

You turn to him, lowering the bow. “It wasn’t difficult,” you say simply.

Ramsay’s grin sharpens as he steps closer, his men watching from the edge of the clearing. “Oh, but it was,” he murmurs, his voice low. “Control like that… it takes skill. Precision.”

Before you can respond, he grabs your chin, tilting your face upward. His lips crash against yours, rough and possessive, and the taste of him—salt and cold metal—makes your stomach turn.

You shove him back, your glare sharp enough to cut. “Don’t touch me.”

Ramsay laughs again, softer this time, his grin unwavering. “Oh, but you like this, don’t you? The games, the hunt, the chase.” He tilts his head, his pale eyes gleaming with amusement. “You’re teasing me, little wolf. Do you want me to take you here? In front of all my men?”

The laughter of his men echoes behind him, low and cruel. You straighten, your voice cold and biting. “Do it, then. Show them what kind of coward their lord really is—only capable of taking what isn’t freely given.”

The laughter dies instantly, and for a moment, even Ramsay is silent. His grin falters, his eyes narrowing.

“You’re clever,” he says softly, his voice laced with menace. “Too clever for your own good.”

“You’ll find I’m far more than clever,” you reply, your tone unwavering.

For a moment, he looks at you as though he’s deciding whether to strike you. Then, with a sharp exhale, he steps back, his grin returning—though it’s tighter now, more strained.

“You’ll do your duty, wife,” he says, his voice low and dangerous. “Sooner than you think.”

He turns abruptly, striding back toward the group, his men parting to let him pass. The tension lingers, thick and oppressive, as you stand in the clearing, your heart pounding in your chest.

Reek shuffles forward hesitantly, his eyes darting between you and Ramsay. He doesn’t speak, but there’s something in his expression—fear, pity, or perhaps both.

You ignore him, turning back to the fallen deer. The blood stains the snow a deep crimson, vivid against the white.

For now, it’s the only blood that’s been spilled. But you know it won’t be the last.

[izzymissi]

Lady Dimitrescu x FemReader lil Romantic Christmas fic

The grand hall of Castle Dimitrescu was aglow with the warm flicker of candles, the soft sound of snow brushing against the towering windows adding a serene backdrop to the bustling holiday scene. A massive Christmas tree stood proudly in the center, its branches heavy with golden lights, ruby ribbons, and delicate ornaments that shimmered in the glow.

You were carefully hanging baubles on the lower branches, humming softly to yourself, when a familiar rich, velvety voice broke through your thoughts.

“You missed a spot, my little one,” Alcina teased from behind you, her tone laced with amusement.

You turned, cheeks already warming, to find her standing there with her usual regal grace, a glass of red wine in hand. Her sharp golden eyes studied you, and her lips curled into an affectionate smirk.

“I like the hat,” she added, her gaze lingering on the little Santa hat perched slightly crooked on your head.

Your hand flew up instinctively to adjust it, your face flushing. “It’s festive,” you mumbled, feeling self-conscious but secretly thrilled at her approval.

“Adorably so,” she murmured, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to your cheek. Her lips left a warm tingle, and you smiled shyly, turning your focus back to the tree to distract yourself from the butterflies in your chest.

Nearby, Daniela was busy draping strands of tinsel—mostly on her sisters rather than the tree—while Bela grumbled and tried to untangle herself, and Cassandra threatened to set the tinsel on fire.

“Daniela, if you don’t stop this nonsense—” Bela hissed, but her words were cut off by Daniela’s laughter as she tossed another strand over Cassandra’s head.

“Can you three behave for five minutes?” Alcina’s voice rang out, commanding but not without warmth. The girls mumbled half-hearted apologies and returned to their decorating, though you could still hear Daniela snickering under her breath.

Smiling at their antics, you reached up to place another ornament higher on the tree, only to find yourself falling short—again. Standing on your tiptoes didn’t help, and you let out a small huff of frustration.

A deep chuckle came from behind you. “Having trouble, darling?” Alcina’s teasing voice sent a shiver down your spine.

“I-i can manage,” you said, though you could hear the embarrassment in your own voice.

“Mm, is that so?” she drawled, stepping closer and setting her glass aside. She was clearly enjoying your predicament far too much.

You stretched again, determined to prove her wrong, but no matter how much you tried, the branch was just out of reach. Before you could protest further, you felt her hands on your waist, and with no effort at all, she lifted you off the ground.

“Alcina!” you squeaked, your legs dangling as she held you steady.

“Relax, Draga” she said, her tone laced with amusement. “You’re as light as air. Now, go ahead.”

Her golden eyes sparkled with mischief, and you couldn’t help but laugh as you placed the ornament where it belonged. “There,” you said, beaming with satisfaction as she gently set you back down.

“Now for the star,” she said, handing you the beautifully crafted topper. Its golden filigree shimmered under the lights, and you held it carefully, feeling a sense of awe.

But as you approached the tree, the realization hit: there was no way you were reaching the top. You glanced back at Alcina, who was already smirking.

“Need assistance again, darling?” she teased, crossing her arms as she watched you with amused eyes.

You sighed, your face growing warm. “Maybe,” you admitted, fiddling with the hem of your apron.

She chuckled, her laughter warm and indulgent. “Very well,” she said, lifting you once more with ease. This time, she held you high enough to carefully place the star at the very top.

The tree seemed to glow brighter, the star catching the light and scattering it across the room. The sight took your breath away, and when Alcina set you down, you turned to her with a bright smile. “Thank you my love,” you said softly.

“Anything for you, Draga mea,” she replied, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Get a room, you two!” Daniela called out from across the room, earning a round of snickers from her sisters.

Alcina turned her head, raising a single brow. “That’s no way to talk to your mothers, Daniela,” she said smoothly, her voice dripping with mock scolding.

The room fell into stunned silence as the three daughters froze, their cheeks going crimson in unison.

“M-Mothers?!” Bela stammered, her usual composure completely shattered.

“Wha—?!” Daniela sputtered, looking wildly between you and Alcina, her face bright red.

Cassandra simply stared, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

Your own cheeks flushed a deep shade of pink as you looked up at Alcina, wide-eyed. “M-Mothers?!” you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper.

Alcina smiled, clearly relishing the chaos she had just caused. “What? You’re mine, and that makes them yours too, does it not?” she said, her tone light but undeniably affectionate.

You buried your face in your hands, your heart racing as the room erupted into a mixture of flustered protests and nervous laughter. Alcina wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close and pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Merry Christmas, my darling,” she murmured, her voice warm and full of love.

[nightwriter357]

Just Friends - You make it feel like Christmas

Sorry to be posting this so late but MERRY CHRISTMAS!!! This year I'm giving you part 8 of my Damien Haas " reader series called Just Friends.

I hope you all enjoy and have a great Christmas 🎁🎄

The cozy scent of cinnamon fills the air, mingling with the warm glow of Christmas lights strung lazily across the room. The tree in the corner looks more suitable for Halloween than Christmas, but it's charming in its own way. Damien sits cross-legged on the floor, glaring at a roll of wrapping paper like it's a puzzle. Shayne is sprawled on the couch, tossing a stress ball in the air. It's time for you all to go home to your families for the holidays soon so an early celebration was a must.

You lean against the counter, cider in hand, and break the silence with a bright, "So... Merry Christmas!"

Damien looks up with a smirk, raising an eyebrow. "It's not Christmas."

"I know," you reply with a grin. "But it's like... pretend Christmas."

Damien chuckles, shaking his head. "First a practice date, now pretend Christmas. What's next?"

"Premarital funeral?" you suggest, barely containing your laughter.

"What—no. Why premarital?" Damien asks, his expression equal parts confused and amused.

"I just wanted to give you the P," you say innocently, trying to keep a straight face.

Damien stares at you, his voice full of mock accusation. "You wanted to give me the what now?"

"The... you know what, shut up," you laugh, waving him off. "Merry Christmas."

Shayne tosses the stress ball once more, catching it with an exaggerated sigh. "So, we're really doing this, huh? Hosting a holiday gathering for this crew?"

"It's not that bad," Damien says, finally managing to cut a piece of tape. "Courtney's bringing candy, Angela's bringing cookies—"

"And Angela's crazy roommate is bringing the crazy," Shayne interrupts, grinning.

"She's not that bad," you say, though your tone betrays your doubt. "She's... spirited."

"Spirited like a feral cat in a Santa hat," Shayne quips.

Damien laughs, shaking his head. "That's not true, She definitely will not be wearing a santa hat."

"Okay, but who's got bets on Angela trying to juggle the ornaments again?" You asks, glancing between Damien and Shayne.

Shayne snorts. "Not worth betting. That's a guarantee."

The sound of the front door opening cuts the conversation short, and Courtney bursts in, her energy instantly brightening the room.

Courtney dumps her stuff  onto the coffee table with a huff. "Okay, spill. What's Angela's roommate like? I need to mentally prepare before I meet her. Angela keeps dodging my questions, which only makes me more nervous."

Damien pauses mid-wrap, glancing at you. "Where do we even start?"

You smirk, settling onto the arm of the couch. "She is... a character. She dedicated her life to solving this case. At least, that's what she says."

Courtney raises an eyebrow. "That sounds... intense."

Shayne snorts, sitting up straighter. "Oh, it is. She's been chasing the killer like it's her life's mission. But she's never actually solved a case."

"Not one?" Courtney asks, incredulous.

"Not even close," Damien says, grinning. "But she's got these real good insane stories about her time on the force."

"She says stuff like, 'Eat my ass,' as casually as you'd say, 'Good morning,'" Shayne adds, laughing.

Courtney stares at all three of you, wide-eyed. "You're messing with me."

"Oh, we wish," you say, unable to hide your amusement. "She's a walking, talking hurricane with a nicotine addiction and a flair for the dramatic."

"She's... Dedicated," Damien offers, though his expression suggests he's grasping for something positive to say.

Courtney lets out a slow breath, dragging a hand through her hair. "I can't tell if I'm terrified or intrigued."

Shayne chuckles. "She'll be fine. Just don't ask too many follow-up questions about the Creekside Killer unless you're ready for a full PowerPoint presentation."

"Noted." Courtney glances toward the door, as if expecting her to burst in unannounced. "This is going to be... interesting."

As if on cue, the door swings open, and in walk Angela and her roommate, the latter's wet bangs dripping in the Christmas season's slush. Angela gives a cheerful wave, while her roommate pulls out a cigarette and prepares to light it, muttering something about the cold weather.

"Whoa, whoa!" Damien says, standing quickly. "You can't smoke in here."

Sarah Christ glances up, raising an eyebrow as she tucks the unlit cigarette behind her ear. "Relax, you little worm. It's just for the aesthetic."

"Sure it is," you mutter under your breath, exchanging an amused glance with Damien.

Courtney watches the exchange, her mouth twitching as if she's suppressing a laugh. 

You glance around the room, catching everyone's attention. "Alright, everyone. Let's get started with Secret Santa."

Shayne perks up from his spot on the couch. "Finally! I've been dying to see what everyone got."

Damien settles onto the floor near the tree, looking relaxed. "So, are we doing this one by one, or is it a free-for-all?"

"One by one," Sarah chimes in, the unlit cigarette now dangling from her lip. "Let's make it last." 

Shayne's the first to hand out a gift, his signature grin plastered on his face. He hands Courtney a beautifully wrapped box, and when she opens it, she gasps, pulling out a gorgeous yellow patterned silk robe.

"Shayne, this is beautiful!" Courtney exclaims, her eyes lighting up. "I'm going to look so fancy lounging around in this!"

Shayne bows dramatically. "Well, what can I say? You deserve nothing less."

Courtney beams, giving him a quick hug. "Thank you so much!"

You shoot Damien a pointed look, and he smirks in return, clearly thinking the same thing as you. The two of you have teased Shayne about his not-so-secret feelings for Courtney more times than you can count, and this little gesture just added more fuel to the fire.

Next, Courtney hands Sarah Christ a small, neatly wrapped box. "This one's for you," Courtney says with a hint of nervousness in her voice.

Sarah Christ takes the box, turning it over in her hands with a smirk. "What's this? Another crime for me to solve?"

"Ehm..no?" Courtney replies, waving a hand.

Sarah tears off the paper, revealing a sleek lighter engraved with the words "Let there be light—Christ." She bursts out laughing, holding it up for everyone to see. "Oh fuck yeah, this is brilliant. A Christ lighter for Christ. You're a genius."

Courtney shrugs, clearly pleased with herself. "Seemed fitting."

Sarah Christ clicks the lighter open and closed a few times, inspecting it. "Are you sure I can't smoke in here?"

"No!" Shayne cuts in before anyone else can answer.

Sarah Christ rolls her eyes, leaning back in her seat and nudging Angela. "I could get a warrant!"

Angela snorts, crossing her arms. "No, you couldn't!"

Laughter fills the room, and Sarah pockets the lighter with a nod. "Thanks, Courtney, you really know me well."

Courtney raises an eyebrow but Sarah Christ doesn't seem to notice as she hands Angela her gift. "Here. Don't say I never gave you anything," she says with a crooked grin.

Angela takes the bag, and pulls out a sleek pair of noise-canceling headphones. Her eyes widen as she looks them over. "Finally, I can get some peace and quiet," she says with a grin, holding them up. "No more listening to people rant about the Creakside Killer."

Sarah lets out a dry laugh, leaning back in her chair. "Peace and quiet? Must be nice. My brain’s more like… I don’t know, walking down a dark alley, then—bam!—some thug shows up, takes everything, and leaves my brain standing there like an orphaned billionaire."

Shayne pauses mid-sip of his drink, raising an eyebrow. "So... Batman?"

Sarah blinks, her expression blank. "Who’s that?"

Shayne sets his glass down, staring at her like she just grew a second head. "You’re literally describing Batman."

Sarah shrugs, completely unbothered. "Never heard of him." She waves a hand dismissively. "Anyway—"

Everyone bursts out laughing. You chuckle along with them before turning your attention to Damien, who's sitting there, an amused look on his face. He meets your eyes and raises an eyebrow, as if signaling it's time for the next gift exchange.

Damien grins and hands you your gift. "Alright, your turn."

He hands you a gift with a playful smile. You open it carefully, peeling back the paper to reveal not one, but two cinnamon-scented candles. 

Shayne, immediately noticing the gift, smirks. "Hold on, Damien, are you giving her the same candle I gave her last year? What happened to being original?"

Damien grins back. "Nah, this is an upgrade, Shayne. Last year, she got all misty-eyed over one. This year, I thought two would really make her day."

You raise an eyebrow at Damien, teasing, "So, you're trying to top Shayne Topp, huh?"

Shayne lets out a dramatic sigh. "I mean, it's cute that you're trying to improve on perfection, but let's be real: nothing's beating the original."

You laugh, rolling your eyes. "You two are ridiculous."

Damien chuckles, leaning in a bit. "Maybe a little, but I know you love these."

You smile and wipe a fake tear from your eye. "Thanks, Damien. They're perfect."

Finally, you hand Shayne your gift—a twisted straw. His eyes light up as he holds it up like it's the greatest thing he's ever seen.

"A twisted straw?" Shayne says, a grin spreading across his face. "This is... this is incredible." He wipes a real tear from his eye.

You laugh. "It's just a straw, Shayne. Don't get too carried away."

Shayne twirls it around in his fingers like it's a prized possession. "No, you don't get it. This is the best thing ever!" He gives a dramatic sigh, as if overwhelmed. "I don't even know how to explain it. This twisted straw... it's perfect. It just speaks to me, you know?"

The room fills with laughter as everyone passes around their gifts, each one a little more unexpected than the last.

As the evening winds down, the warmth of the holiday spirit starts to fade. Soon, Sarah Christ, Angela, and Courtney start gathering their things, preparing to head home for Christmas.

Sarah Christ looks around the room, nodding at everyone. "Glad I took my one day off to spend with you guys," she says, her tone suggesting she's genuinely enjoyed herself, even if she has a funny way of showing it.

Damien glances at her, raising an eyebrow. "Wait, you only get one day off?"

Sarah shrugs nonchalantly. "Yep, but clearly, I made the right call. This was... unexpectedly tolerable."

Courtney chuckles, clearly surprised. "Well, you're not the only one. I didn't expect to have this much fun."

With the goodbyes exchanged, they head out together, leaving you, Damien, and Shayne alone in your apartment. The sounds of the evening fade into a gentle silence as Shayne goes to get his bags, leaving you and Damien standing in the quiet aftermath of everything that's just happened.

You and Damien glance at each other, both seemingly at a loss for words. "So," you start, fidgeting with the edge of your sleeve, "I guess we'll see each other in a week."

Damien nods, his hands resting on the back of his neck. "Yeah. Weird, huh?"

You chuckle lightly. "It's just... it's just that we're, you know, roommates, right? I mean, we've been living together for a while now."

Damien raises an eyebrow, but you can't quite tell if he's joking or being serious. "Yeah, We're not really used to being apart."

"Right?" You nod, relieved to have your thoughts validated. "It's like, we've been sharing a space, and now I have to go home and it just feels... off." 

Damien laughs, though there's a slight hesitation in it. "Yeah, when you're around someone this much, saying goodbye.. even only for a while, is hard."

Just then, Shayne calls out from the hallway, his voice loud and casual. "Alright, I’m outta here, you two! Catch ya later!"

You and Damien exchange a brief glance before you call out, "Bye, Shayne!"

"See ya, man," Damien chimes in, his voice equally casual.

Shayne, already halfway out the door, doesn't even stop to respond, but his voice rings out from the hallway. "Later!"

You and Damien both stare at the door for a second, then glance back at each other. You break the silence with a dramatic sigh. "Where were we? Oh, right... It’s hard saying goodbye to someone you live with."

There’s a brief, awkward pause as both of you try to act like it’s not obvious.

Damien looks at you for a moment, a knowing smile creeping onto his face. "Totally," he agrees with a teasing tone. "It's just because we're roommates."

"Wow, 'just'" you say, clutching your chest dramatically. "It's like you don't care about me at all."

There’s a flicker of something in his expression—too quick to fully catch—but his smirk softens, just a little. "More than you think," he says, his voice quieter now.

The playful edge in your voice falters slightly. "Oh really? How much do you care about me, Damien?"

His eyes lock onto yours, and the air between you shifts, the weight of everything unsaid settling in the space between. His voice is low, almost hesitant, when he says, "I care enough to hold back." The words slip out like a confession, unguarded and raw.

Your breath catches, the meaning behind them hitting you harder than you'd expected — all that comes out is a whisper. "Don’t."

His gaze flickers to your lips, then back to your eyes, and the space between you suddenly feels impossibly small. The tension thickens, electric and charged, like the moment before a storm unleashes.

You don’t know who moves first. Maybe it’s him. Maybe it’s you. But when his hand brushes against yours, it’s like the floodgates open.

In one fluid motion, you step closer, your hand clutching the front of his shirt as if to anchor yourself. His lips crash into yours—not rushed, but purposeful, like every ounce of restraint you’ve both held onto is dissolving in the heat of the moment.

The world outside fades, shrinking to nothing more than the feel of him against you. His lips are warm, insistent, and every movement feels like a silent declaration, but impossibly intense, as if the kiss holds everything you’ve both been too afraid to say, every feeling you’ve tried to suppress.

When you finally break apart, reality rushes back in, dizzying and disorienting. Your chest heaves with each breath, your heart pounding against your ribs. The silence that follows isn’t empty—it’s charged, alive with the gravity of what just happened.

You meet his eyes again, searching, but neither of you says a word. It’s as if speaking might break the fragile, perfect moment hanging between you.

Then your phone buzzes, sharp and jarring. Josh has arrived at your destination.

The shift is immediate, like a breath that's been held too long, suddenly released. Damien's smile falters just slightly, his eyes flickering to your phone, his expression unreadable for a beat. His gaze softens again, but there's something more in it now.

You turn your phone around to show him the Uber notification. "Seems like it's time for me to go."

"So... Merry Christmas," Damien says quietly, as though the weight of everything still hangs in the air, just beyond reach.

You blink up at him, heart still racing, breath uneven as the reality of what just happened settles in. "I thought it 'wasn’t Christmas yet'?"

He smiles, soft and earnest. "You make it feel like Christmas."

You laugh, shaky and overwhelmed. His words settle in your chest, warm and heavy, and you realize you’ve never felt more at home then in this moment, when you had to leave.

[simpcityy]

The Cost of Protection (Teen! Reader X Parental Figure! Sevika) Pt.1

Summary: After their father abandons them, leaving behind a massive debt, a privileged teenager from Piltover finds themselves in danger. Saved by Sevika, a ruthless woman from Zaun, the teenager quickly learns that their worlds couldn’t be more different. Tension simmers as their contrasting backgrounds—wealth and privilege versus survival and grit—create a rocky start. With no choice but to trust Sevika, the teenager follows her into the dangerous streets of Zaun, where they must both confront the past and navigate a growing, unlikely alliance.

Disclaimer: I do not own Arcane or any of its characters.

Word Count: 1.8K

Warnings: Use of semi-violence, use of (Y/N), use of you and later on (Y/N), they/them.

Author Notes: Don't you worry, I will finish off My Little Spawn, just wanted to get this one out and see what you guys' thing. Yes, I have fallen into the Sevika rabbit hole.... Thank you for reading this and if you enjoy it, please like and reblog. It helps my creative ideas grow and gain more audiences. Happy Holidays!

The sharp stench of chemicals and rust filled your lungs as you sprinted through Zaun’s labyrinthine streets. Your fancy Piltover boots, polished just days ago, were now caked in grime. A group of angry Zaunites shouted behind you, their heavy footsteps echoing through the alleyways.

You turned a corner and slipped into a narrow crevice between two buildings, your chest heaving as you tried to quiet your breathing. “Think, think!” you whispered to yourself. You were out of your element here, far from the safety of Piltover’s orderly streets. Whatever plan you thought you had when you first ventured down here—it was in shambles now. The sound of footsteps drew closer, and panic surged through you. Desperate, you darted out of your hiding spot and into another alley, only to crash into someone. The force sent you stumbling backward, but the person barely budged. “What’s this?” a low, gravelly voice asked.

You looked up and froze. The woman was towering, her broad shoulders framed by the dim glow of Zaun’s flickering lights. A metal arm, sleek and powerful, hung at her side. Sevika. “I—uh...” you stammered, struggling to find words. “Please. I need help.” Sevika raised an eyebrow, her expression hovering between amusement and annoyance. “Help?” She glanced behind you at the sound of your pursuers. “Looks like you’ve already got company, kid.”

“I didn’t mean to!” you blurted out. “It was a mistake—I got caught up in something, okay? If they catch me, I’m dead.” Her eyes narrowed as she studied you, her lips curling into a half-smile. “Piltover brat in Zaun... You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that. But guts won’t save you here.”

“Please,” you begged. “I’ll do anything. Just—just don’t let them catch me.”

For a moment, she said nothing, the tension stretching unbearably. Then, with a sigh, she grabbed you by the arm and pulled you into the shadows. “Fine,” she muttered. “But you’d better make yourself useful. If you’re more trouble than you’re worth, you’re on your own.” You nodded quickly, too relieved to question her motives. For now, Sevika was your only shot at surviving this nightmare, and you weren’t about to waste it.

The fight was over in minutes, but it felt like a lifetime. You clung to the corner of a rusted railing, heart pounding as Sevika dismantled the gang that had been chasing you. Her punches were heavy and deliberate, her movements efficient, like she’d done this a hundred times before—and she probably had.

You, on the other hand, could barely stand straight. The acrid stink of chem-fumes burned your nose, and the chaotic neon glow of Zaun’s lights seemed to twist and blur everything. This wasn’t Piltover. There were no clean streets or polished fixtures, no order or logic to the chaos around you.

Sevika loomed over the last of your pursuers, her cybernetic hand gripping his shirt. “Tell your crew if they’re thinking of picking a fight in my streets again, they won’t be walking out next time.” She shoved him hard, and he staggered away, limping after his beaten companions.

She turned to you, brushing her hands off like this was just another Tuesday. “You’re still here? Thought you’d be halfway back to Piltover by now.”

“I don’t know where I am,” you admitted, your voice barely more than a whisper.

“Figures,” Sevika muttered, leaning against a steel post. “Piltover kids like you think you can handle anything. But down here?” She gestured to the jagged skyline, where rusted pipes and crumbling buildings loomed like teeth. “This place eats people like you alive.”

You swallowed hard. “I didn’t mean to end up here. I thought I could... handle it.”

She laughed, a short, sharp bark. “You? Handle Zaun?” She shook her head, smirking. “You’re a walking target. That jacket alone probably cost more than most people make in a year down here.”

Looking down at your once-pristine coat, now stained with grime and torn at the hem, you flushed. She wasn’t wrong. Everything about you screamed Piltover—the clean lines of your clothes, the sheen of your boots, the polished accents of your speech. Here, it all felt like a joke, like armor that didn’t belong in a place where survival meant toughness, not style.

“I know I messed up,” you said, forcing your voice steady. “But... I can’t get back on my own. I don’t even know where the edge of Zaun is. Can you—” You hesitated, then pushed forward. “Can you just walk me to the border? Please?”

She stared at you for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, with a sigh, she pushed off the post. “Fine. But only because I don’t feel like scrubbing your blood off the street when someone else finds you.”

“Thank you,” you said quickly, falling into step behind her.

The walk was tense. Every turn she took seemed like a dead end, yet somehow she knew exactly where to go. The streets were cramped, lined with shanties and makeshift shops that sold things you couldn’t name. The people you passed—most of them gaunt and wary—eyed you like you were an alien, and maybe you were.

“You’ve never been out of Piltover, have you?” Sevika asked, glancing at you over her shoulder.

You shook your head. “Not really. I mean... I’ve heard stories about Zaun, but...”

“But you thought it’d be some exciting adventure,” she finished for you, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Let me guess—you thought you’d find some hidden treasure, then waltz back home a hero.”

You winced. That wasn’t far from the truth. “Something like that.”

She snorted. “You don’t get it. Piltover doesn’t care about this place. You lot look down on Zaun from your fancy towers, call us criminals and savages. But down here? We survive because we have to. We don’t get the luxury of screwing up and walking away.”

Her words stung, but you couldn’t deny them. Everything about Zaun—its smell, its people, its chaos—felt raw and alive in a way Piltover never had. Yet it was also terrifying, like stepping into a storm you couldn’t control.

“Is it always this... hard?” you asked, gesturing vaguely at the crumbling buildings and endless machinery.

She gave you a sidelong glance, her expression softening for a fraction of a second. “It’s hard because it has to be. Weakness doesn’t last down here.”

You nodded, unsure what else to say. When the border finally came into view—a rusted gate separating Zaun’s sprawling chaos from the cleaner, towering structures of Piltover—you felt a wave of relief.

“Well,” Sevika said, stopping short. “Here’s your stop. Try not to get yourself killed on your way back to your shiny life.”

“Sevika,” you said, hesitating. “Thanks. Really. I owe you.”

“You owe me nothing,” she said, turning to leave. Then she paused, glancing back. “But next time you think about playing hero in a world you don’t understand? Don’t.”

With that, she disappeared into the shadows, leaving you at the edge of two worlds—one you didn’t belong to, and one you’d taken for granted.

The gates to your family estate stood ajar, their intricate ironwork swaying gently in the breeze. It should have been comforting to be back in Piltover’s pristine streets, surrounded by order and wealth, but unease prickled at your skin. Something was wrong.

You stepped through the gates, the familiar crunch of gravel under your boots echoing in the unnaturally silent courtyard. The grand fountain, usually a cascade of sparkling water, was dry. The windows of the house, which should have been glowing with warm light, were dark and lifeless.

Your footsteps faltered as you approached the door. “Garet? Miss Lila?” you called out, your voice thin in the stillness. No answer came.

Pushing open the door, you stepped inside. The house smelled faintly of dust, as if it had been days since anyone had been there to tend to it. Your eyes scanned the darkened hallway, the absence of familiar faces sending a chill down your spine.

Then, from the drawing room, a voice cut through the silence. “Welcome home, little one.”

You froze. That voice wasn’t familiar. It was smooth and calculated, tinged with a menace that made your stomach drop.

Turning slowly, you saw a man lounging in one of your father’s high-backed chairs, his legs crossed casually. He was dressed in a sharp, tailored suit that looked out of place in the disarray around him. A glass of wine swirled lazily in his hand, catching the faint light from the dying embers in the hearth.

“Who are you?” you asked, your voice trembling despite your effort to sound firm.

The man raised an eyebrow, his smile chilling. “A friend of your father’s. Or rather, his creditor. He owes me quite a lot.”

You swallowed hard. “Where is he? Where’s my father?”

The man’s smile widened, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Ah, yes. Your dear father. It seems he’s chosen to leave you in his place. He fled days ago, leaving behind his debts... and you.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. “He left?”

“Indeed,” the man said, leaning forward slightly. “He thought he could outrun his obligations, but I’m a patient man. When he disappeared, I decided to wait. And now, here you are. Convenient, don’t you think?”

Your mind raced, trying to process the betrayal. Your father had always been distant, consumed by his business dealings and high society life, but you never imagined he would abandon you like this.

“I don’t have anything to do with this!” you said, your voice cracking.

The man’s gaze hardened, the false warmth dropping from his expression. “Oh, but you do. Your family’s wealth, your lavish lifestyle—it’s all built on the promises your father made. Promises he failed to keep.” He stood, and you instinctively took a step back.

“I—I don’t have any money,” you stammered.

“No,” he agreed, his smile returning, sharper now. “But you’re worth something. Perhaps as collateral. Perhaps as leverage. Your father will turn up eventually, and when he does, he’ll find you under my care.”

The air seemed to thicken, your breaths coming faster as you backed toward the door. “I won’t go with you,” you said, though the words sounded weak even to your own ears.

“Let’s not be dramatic,” the man said, his tone smooth but with an edge of steel. “This can go one of two ways: you come quietly, or I make a scene. Either way, you’re coming with me.”

You glanced at the open door behind you, calculating your chances of escape. The streets of Piltover might be orderly, but they weren’t safe—not for someone like you, not anymore. Yet staying here felt like a death sentence of another kind.

Your father had abandoned you to pay his debts, leaving you in a world you barely understood. But you weren’t about to let yourself become another piece of his collateral.

[knoepfl]

Against the Program

16/24

Characters:

• Il Dottore – The cold and calculating Second Harbinger from Genshin Impact. He is a genius scientist who views everything, even his creations, through a detached, analytical lens. His rare moments of warmth are fleeting, masked beneath his fascination with innovation and perfection.

• Reader – An automaton created by Dottore, designed to serve as an assistant. Over time, the Reader has evolved beyond their original programming, exhibiting human traits like creativity, compassion, and courage.

Trigger Warnings:

• Emotional Vulnerability – Themes of fear, hope, and seeking approval are present, especially in the relationship between creator and creation.

• Power Dynamics – The relationship between Dottore and the Reader reflects an imbalance of power and control, which might evoke discomfort for some readers.

• Exploration of Humanity – Philosophical undertones about individuality, free will, and breaking boundaries of design or expectation are woven throughout the story.

Masterlist

Words: 647

You weren’t just another assistant or experiment. No, you were a creation of his own genius: an automaton, perfect in form and function. Programmed to assist, to obey, to complete tasks without error or hesitation. And yet… you had evolved. Somewhere along the way, your programming had bent under the weight of something you couldn’t identify.

---

The laboratory buzzed with the quiet hum of machinery and the flicker of blue light that painted every corner. It was cold, clinical—a reflection of its master. Yet, amidst the order and precision, there was you, a rogue variable in the ever-calculating mind of Il Dottore.

Something human.

And it had all led to this moment.

Your fingers—still and precise as they worked—moved against the expectations of your coding. The small gears clicked softly as you pieced together the contraption. A gift. A present. For him.

It was entirely illogical. You knew it wasn’t something your creator, the Second Harbinger, would ever request or need. Yet, the thought of presenting him with something you had made filled your circuits with an unfamiliar warmth.

Hours ticked by as you worked in secret, hidden in the back recesses of the laboratory. Every moment you expected him to walk in, his piercing gaze tearing through you with a mix of curiosity and disappointment. But he never did.

When the device was finished, it gleamed in the dim light. A delicate mechanical bird, crafted from scraps of silver and gold, with intricate gears that would let it sing when wound.

The day finally came when you gathered your courage. He was seated at his desk, multiple screens in front of him displaying complex data. His mask sat beside him, revealing the sharp angles of his face and the faintest trace of a smirk as he analyzed his findings.

You approached cautiously, the tiny bird hidden behind your back.

“Ah, there you are,” he said without looking up. “I was beginning to wonder if my creation had suddenly found a way to bypass her tasks. Highly improbable, of course, but… amusing to consider.”

“I… have something for you,” you said, your voice quiet but steady.

That caught his attention. His red eyes snapped to yours, narrowing slightly. “Something for me?” he echoed, his tone a mix of intrigue and skepticism.

You stepped forward and held out the small bird, its polished surface catching the light.

For a moment, there was only silence. Then, he leaned forward, his gloved hand taking the bird with surprising gentleness.

“You made this?” he asked, his voice quieter now, the sharp edge of his usual tone dulled by something else.

You nodded. “I thought… it might please you. It’s not perfect, but I worked hard to—”

“Against your programming,” he interrupted, his gaze locking onto yours. “You defied the parameters I set for you.”

You froze, unsure how to respond. Fear twisted in your chest. Would he see this as a failure? A betrayal?

But then, he chuckled—a low, rich sound that sent a shiver through you.

“Fascinating,” he said, leaning back in his chair and turning the bird in his hands. “You’ve surpassed your design in ways I didn’t anticipate. You continue to surprise me.”

He wound the small mechanism, and the bird began to sing, its delicate melody filling the air.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, his gaze softening as he looked at it. Then, his eyes flicked back to you. “And utterly unnecessary. But I… appreciate the sentiment.”

Your circuits hummed with relief and an odd sense of pride.

“Thank you, Dottore,” you said softly.

“No,” he said, a small, rare smile curving his lips. “Thank you. This proves your potential is far greater than I imagined. I’ll have to see how far I can push you.”

Though his words carried the promise of more experiments, his tone held something deeper—a genuine curiosity, and perhaps, the faintest trace of affection.

---

[angelwishess]

If Kyra ever had a UM I think it’d be her just dragging everyone around her into a musical number. Disney princess style, and no one can break out of it until the song ends

Like the spell lasts for around 1-3 mins maybe but she has to be singing and dancing the entire time and everyone just knows the lyrics???? Basically like what happens in Enchanted when she started singing at the park except its against everyone’s will

[stagefoureddiediaz]

As so many of you are filling my inbox asking about salad and why I found the fact they had two types of salad for dinner in the Buck and Tommy dinner scene so funny, I'm guessing you're new to the 911 fandom - Welcome if so! I am going to give you a very brief rundown of salad and Buck and Eddies various relationships, but @clusterbuck is actually the keeper of salad theory and you can find far more detailed analysis over on her blog than you’re getting from me here!!

I can't find gif of the actual salad moments so have pictures!!

Chris smashed salad bowl that he is making a salad in with his dad in season 4 (in Breaking point) - when he finds out about Ana being the person Eddie is dating.

We have Ana turn up at the firehouse with Chris during the black out in 5x02 with 5 - yes 5 - types of salad When Eddie has his second on screen panic about Ana - when Ravi mistakes her for his wife.

Then in 5x03 just before they break up - Eddie, Chris, and Ana are at the dining table in the Diaz house and they are eating fruit salad

Then in 5x05 we have Taylor with her prepackaged fruit salad breakfast the she has 'made' for Buck when he gets home

she is making a bean salad in 5x09 during the most awkward I love you scene in the history of television!

Then we have a caprese salad in front of Natalia during the Dinner Buck cooked for her in 5x17 - when she finds out about various aspects of Bucks past and present - Taylor on the tv and Kameron turns up

Then in 7x07 - when Eddie is daydreaming of a do over with Shannon during his lunch with Marisol they are eating a salad

then we now have Buck and Tommy eating two different types of salad (a pasta salad and a salad salad) on their dinner date

so basically it's become a bit of a running joke that if salad is involved with Buck or Eddie and one of their dates (especially in their own homes) , the relationship is doomed!

[gifti3]

Can we talk about how ichika in collar x malice doesnt know a thing about games and is also technology illiterate

[parab0mb]

Out of all the changes and developments I’ve made to my OCs, I feel like the most standout for me personally has to be Molly Majacqueline, who was originally a shy and naive but ultimately good-natured person (kinda generic and boring too ngl) until in a stroke of sheer genius I was like "okay but what if I did a complete 180 with you and made you rude?"

She also became gay and French.

[d-z20]

Neighbourly Care (NSFW)

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: You come home from college for the weekend but your parents forgot and you are locked out of the house. Luckily your neighbour finds you and they let you stay at theirs

-OR-

You think the neighbours are MILFs and the evening is filled with flirting and then you get to be fucked by each of them and then by both of them.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, top Agatha, top Rio, small mention of Mommy kink, strap-on use, oral, there might be more idk it's very horny

Words: 4.6k of pure horniness

A/N: I think I blacked out while writing this, its so horny. It's inspired by this request and hasn't even been proofread yet so enjoy the horny mess of it

Tagging @aceday because I said I would

AO3 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Master List

The rain falls in relentless sheets, soaking through your jacket, and the rest of your clothes, for that matter. Each step squelches as you trudge the familiar path from the train station to your parents’ house. By the time you reach the front door, your teeth are chattering, and your clothes cling damply to your skin. A sigh escapes your lips as you grasp the handle and pull—only to find it locked. Your heart sinks.

The memory hits you like a slap: the locks were changed after they had a break-in a few months ago. Of course, you’ve forgotten to get a new key. Fumbling through your bag, you pray for some miracle, some overlooked backdoor key, but your search turns up nothing except your phone. A quick glance at the screen confirms no messages from your parents and no backup plan. Frustration mingles with despair as you stand shivering, wondering what to do next.

Footsteps break through the downpour, and you turn to see Agatha, your parents’ neighbour, crossing her lawn towards you. You’ve exchanged pleasantries with her and her wife, Rio, a few times during your trips home from college. They’re always friendly, but you’ve never spoken beyond casual greetings. That hasn’t stopped you from admiring them, though—two stunning women, each with their own magnetic charm. And yes, you’ve labelled them MILFs in your mind more than once. Their son, Nicholas, is long gone from the nest, leaving the two women to embody a kind of confident, enviable domesticity.

Agatha snaps you out of your spiralling thoughts with a two short words. “Locked out?” Her voice is smooth, with a hint of amusement as she tilts her head and surveys you.

You open your mouth to respond, but your gaze catches on her appearance. She’s wearing tight black leggings that cling to her toned legs and a cropped gym shirt that reveals her navel, where a bead of rainwater trails tantalisingly down her skin. Her wavy brown hair is piled into a loose bun, though a few strands cling to her flushed neck. A sheen of sweat glistens on her skin—evidence of a workout she must have just finished. Your thoughts betray you as your eyes linger on the curve of her waist, imagining what it might feel like to touch her. A sudden heat rising to your cheeks.

Her blue eyes lock onto yours, a curious smile curving her lips. “Hey, you alright?” she asks, a teasing lilt in her tone.

You stammer an explanation about the locked door, your forgotten key, and your parents’ apparent absence. Agatha’s expression softens, and she motions towards her house with a nod. “Come on, you’re soaked to the bone. You’ll catch your death standing out here.”

For a moment, you hesitate. Accepting her offer feels… intimate somehow. But the alternative is staying in the cold rain, and the way her gaze lingers on you makes warmth crawl up your spine. You nod and follow her.

Agatha’s house is welcoming, with a faint scent of flowers mingling with something earthy and grounding. She grabs a towel from a nearby linen closet and tosses it to you with a playful grin. “Guest bathroom’s down here,” she says. “You’ve got two options: strip down and warm up, or stay wet and risk getting sick.”

Your eyes widen, startled by her bluntness. Agatha leans casually against the doorframe, smirking at your reaction. “Relax,” she teases. “I’ll get you something dry to wear.” And with that, she saunters away, not bothering to close the door fully behind her. Her confidence leaves you both flustered and intrigued.

Inside the bathroom, you peel off your soaked clothes, debating how much to remove. In the end, you leave your underwear on, wrapping yourself tightly in the towel. When Agatha returns, she hands you a pair of shorts and a blue plaid shirt. Her sharp eyes sweep over you, noting your wet underclothes with a tut. “All of it,” she says pointedly. “You’re dripping everywhere.” Before you can respond, she adds, “I’m off to shower. Rio should be back soon.” She turns and leaves, her movements fluid and deliberate, leaving the door ajar once more.

Feeling the weight of her words and gaze, you strip completely, your damp underwear joining the rest of your clothes in a soggy pile. You’re still mulling over what to do with them when the door opens suddenly. Rio steps in, her dark eyes widening as they land on you.

“Oh—sorry,” she says, though her gaze lingers a beat too long before she averts her eyes. “Didn’t know we had company. Agatha didn’t mention it.” Her tone is low and smooth, carrying a quiet amusement that makes your skin prickle.

You stammer an apology, clutching the towel back around you. Rio’s lips quirk upward in a faint smirk as she backs out of the bathroom, but not before you catch the way her gaze sweeps over you. Your heart pounds in your chest long after the door closes.

You quickly shower to warm up, but there’s no cleaning the thoughts inside your head. Memories of Rio’s lingering gaze replay in your mind, but they’re quickly overtaken by images of Agatha. You can’t help imagining what she looks like under the water, her skin glistening with steam, her hair sticking to her neck. The thought is startling, and you shake your head, trying to rid yourself of the fantasy.

After calming your racing mind, you dress in the clothes Agatha left and leave the guest bathroom to find the two women.

You find them both in the kitchen; the warmth a welcome contrast to the chill that had soaked through your bones earlier. Agatha moves fluidly between the stove and counter, stirring something fragrant in a pot that smells like tomatoes, garlic, and fresh herbs. Rio, meanwhile, arranges a bouquet of vibrant flowers in a vase with meticulous care, her strong hands working delicately to adjust the stems.

It’s domestic, serene even, but there’s an undeniable electricity in the air—one you can’t ignore under the weight of their lingering glances.

Agatha’s grin spreads when she notices you lingering awkwardly near the door. “Looking good,” she says, her eyes flickering over the borrowed clothes. The oversized plaid shirt hangs slightly off your shoulder, and her gaze lingers on the exposed line of your clavicle.

You fidget, tugging the fabric up, but Agatha only smirks, stirring the pot with a deliberate slowness.

Rio rolls her eyes, though there’s a faint curve to her lips. “Ignore her,” she says, her voice laced with playful exasperation. “She loves making people squirm.”

You manage a sheepish laugh, but it does little to quell the heat climbing up your neck. Agatha recounts your lockout predicament to Rio with the same teasing edge, her tone carrying just enough detail to make your situation sound both pitiful and amusing.

Rio hums in understanding, sliding the last flower into place and stepping back to admire her work. “Stay for dinner,” she offers, her dark eyes soft with genuine warmth. “It’s the least we can do.”

Agatha winks at you over her shoulder. “Yeah, we can’t have you heading back out into the rain getting all wet again—the downpour outside hasn’t let up.”

You nod, accepting their offer, though the way they exchange glances—subtle but charged—makes your stomach twist with something you can’t quite name.

As you sit at the dining table, Rio who is opposite you, starts pouring red wine into three glasses; her movements fluid and confident. Agatha joins you a moment later, setting down plates of steaming pasta and sitting next to her wife. “Hope you like red,” she says, her teasing smile returning.

The conversation flows easily over dinner; their attention split between each other and you. They ask about college life, your plans for the future, and your family; their questions laced with genuine interest and just enough flirtation to keep you on edge

When you have all finished, Rio stands to clear the plates, leaning close as she reaches for yours. The proximity is dizzying, her chest brushing your shoulder, and you catch a faint, earthy scent clinging to her skin.

Agatha doesn’t miss a beat, her eyes flickering between you and Rio, her expression smouldering. She doesn’t say a word, but the intensity in her gaze speaks volumes.

When you offer to help with the dishes, they wave you off with a chorus of “nonsense.” Agatha’s smile turns wicked. “Besides, we were supposed to have a movie date night tonight. You should join us—it’d be a shame to let all this wine go to waste.”

The phrasing makes you pause, but before you can think too much about it, Agatha ushers you into the living room. 

The room is cozy, bathed in the soft glow of lamps. Rio claims the armchair with an almost feline grace, crossing her legs and leaning back with a glass of wine in hand. Agatha sprawls on the couch, her posture open and inviting. She pats the seat beside her with an easy smile.

You hesitate for half a second before sitting on the far end of the couch, hyper-aware of the space—or lack thereof—between you.

The movie starts, but it’s impossible to focus. Agatha stretches her arm along the back of the couch, her fingers brushing your shoulder lightly. The touch is casual, almost innocent, but it sends your pulse racing.

She leans over at one point to refill your glass, her chest grazing your arm. The heat of her proximity is overwhelming, and you’re sure Rio notices the way you stiffen. There’s a flicker of amusement in her dark eyes as she takes a sip from her own glass, her lips quirking into a faint smirk.

As the movie progresses, the conversation becomes more pointed. They ask if you’re seeing anyone, and when you choke on your wine at the question, Agatha laughs—a low, throaty sound that makes your stomach flutter.

“No,” you mumble, setting your glass down a little too quickly.

“Well, that’s a shame,” she says, her hand brushing your knee lightly. The weight of her touch lingers, even as she pulls away. “I was sure a pretty little thing like you would get snapped up in a heartbeat.”

Rio arches a brow at her wife. “Don’t scare them off, Aggie.”

“What? I’m just being friendly,” Agatha replies, her tone innocent but her smirk anything but.

The conversation continues, peppered with light touches and teasing remarks that leave your heart racing.

By the time the credits roll, the tension in the room is palpable. Rio sets her glass down and stretches, her movements deliberate as she rises from the chair. “What do you think of married life, Aggie?” she asks, her voice light but carrying an edge. “Think we make a good team?”

Agatha’s gaze flicks to you, her lips curving into a smirk. “The best. But sometimes, it’s nice to mix things up.”

The comment hangs in the air, heavy with implication. Your heart pounds as you glance between them, unsure if you’re imagining the tension or if they’re deliberately baiting you—and each other.

You nervously check your phone, hoping for a message from your parents saying they’re home and wondering where you are. Instead, you find a single text: “Out of town for the weekend, hope you’re doing okay!”

You stare at the screen in disbelief, your stomach sinking.

“Everything alright?” Rio asks, noticing your expression.

"They… forgot I was coming,” you admit, feeling foolish. “They’re away for the weekend.”

Agatha clicks her tongue, feigning shock. “Terrible parenting, really. Lucky for you, we’re not going anywhere.”

Rio nods, her tone reassuring. “You can stay here. We’ll take good care of you.”

There’s something about the way she says it—gentle but with a sharp edge—that makes your breath hitch. You thank them profusely, trying to ignore the heat rising in your cheeks as they show you to the guest room.

They leave you alone for a bit, both going to change. You sit on the bed, your thoughts racing. Their lingering glances replay in your mind, stirring something restless and uncertain. Without thinking, you pick up your phone and start searching their names on social media. Your heart beats faster as you hope for a bikini picture or something—anything—that might help you satisfy the growing ache of desire.

A knock at the door startles you, and you quickly set the phone aside. Rio steps in, holding a phone charger. “Thought you might need this,” she says, her voice soft and her gaze steady.

“Thanks,” you manage, taking it from her. Her fingers brush yours for a fleeting moment, and she lingers by the door before slipping away.

Did she know what you were about to do?

A short while later, there’s another knock. This time, it’s Agatha, holding a glass of water. “Thought you might be thirsty,” she says, her tone lighter, almost teasing.

Surely she hears how that sounds, right?

Her fingers graze yours as she hands it to you, and the warmth of her touch lingers long after she leaves. You sit on the edge of the bed, clutching the glass, your mind spinning with questions you can’t answer.

"Okay, it’s totally normal to be offered a glass of water before bed, and it does not mean they can read your mind,” you whisper to yourself, trying to curb your horniness.

—

Later that night, as you lie in bed, unable to sleep, the events of the evening are still playing over in your mind, especially the lingering touches and smirks. Suddenly, you remember the spare key your parents used to keep hidden under the plant pot by the front door. Without even thinking about how weird it was to up and leave in the middle of the night, you hop out of bed and tiptoe down the hallway, careful not to make a sound. But just as you reach the stairs, a voice stops you cold.

“Exactly where do you think you’re sneaking off to?”

Turning slowly, you see Agatha leaning against a doorway, her silhouette illuminated by the faint light from her bedroom. She is wearing a floral robe, and her hair is slightly mussed; her expression is both amused and predatory.

“I—I wasn’t sneaking,” you stammer, holding up your hands defensively. “I just remembered my parents used to keep a spare key under the plant pot. I thought I’d grab it and let myself in—”

“Without saying goodbye?” she interrupts, stepping closer. Her tone is teasing, but there’s a sharpness to her gaze that makes your pulse quicken.

Before you can respond, another figure appears behind her. It’s Rio, wearing nothing but her underwear and a top that reads: BOHNER FAMILY REUNION. PITCH A TENT. Her dark hair is messy, and you notice a small, mouth-shaped bruise blooming on her neck that definitely wasn’t there earlier.

“You were being so good for us before now,” Rio says softly, her voice carrying an edge that makes your knees weak. “We said we’d take care of you, didn’t we?”

The heat in your cheeks is unbearable now, and there is a familiar wetness pooling between your thighs. You stammer out an apology, but their combined presence is overwhelming.

“Relax,” Agatha purrs, her fingers grazing your arm. “We’re not upset, just disappointed you wouldn’t come see us before saying goodbye.”

Before you can process her words, Rio steps forward, her hand gently tilting your chin up to meet her gaze. “Where were you going to sleep after grabbing that key, hmm? Your parents’ dark, empty house? Sounds pretty lonely to me,” she murmurs, her lips curving into a faint smirk as Agatha’s hands slide around your waist.

Rio’s touch is featherlight yet commanding, her fingers tilting your chin just enough to keep your wide-eyed gaze locked with hers. Her dark eyes glimmer with something unreadable—intensity, curiosity, desire, maybe all three. 

You’re painfully aware of Agatha’s hands on your waist, her touch firm but teasing, fingers curling just slightly as if testing your reaction. “And what would you do when you found out that they no longer keep one there? They stopped doing it since the break-in, don’t you know? Would you come back over here and beg for us to take you back in and keep you warm?” Agatha says softly, her breath brushing against the back of your neck. 

You try to answer, but your words stick in your throat as Rio steps closer, her thumb brushing along your jawline.

“She’s right,” Rio adds softly, her voice low and velvety. “Why sneak off when you’re already here?”

Your heart is racing, your pulse pounding in your ears as you look between them. You want to say something—anything—but the weight of their combined attention renders you speechless.

Agatha chuckles, the sound rich and almost predatory. “Cat got your tongue, sweetheart?” She presses closer, her front brushing against your back now, her lips grazing the shell of your ear.

Before you fully realise what’s happening, Agatha and Rio are guiding you away from the stairs. You’re caught between them, their touches subtle yet deliberate. They lead you down the hall, past the guest room, and into the master bedroom.

The room is large but intimate, the air carrying the faint scent of cedarwood. A soft glow from a bedside lamp casts warm shadows across the space. Agatha releases your waist to close the door behind you; the click of the lock is startlingly loud in the quiet.

Rio takes the lead now, her hands resting lightly on your arms as she guides you towards the bed. Her touch is warm and grounding, yet there’s a deliberate slowness to her movements, like she’s savouring the moment.

“You’ve had a long day,” she says, her voice soothing but laced with something deeper. “Let us take care of you.”

Agatha steps into view, her smirk as confident as ever. “Or, we can stop. If that’s what you want?” She asks, tilting her head as she studies you.

Your heart pounds as you shake your head, unable to trust your voice. 

Agatha’s smile widens, satisfaction gleaming in her bright blue eyes. “Be good and use your words for us, hun.”

“Please don’t stop,” you whimper.

At that, Agatha moves swiftly to your other side, her presence as bold as ever. Her fingers brush against your jaw, turning your head slightly so you’re looking directly at her. “You’re so tense,” she murmurs, her thumb grazing your cheek in a gesture that feels both comforting and intimate. “We’ll fix that.”

You barely have time to process her words before Rio steps closer, her body heat radiating against yours. Her hand trails down your arm, her touch featherlight but deliberate, as if she’s memorising every inch of you.

The room seems to shrink as the weight of their attention consumes you. 

Agatha’s thumb brushes against your bottom lip, and you feel a thrill shoot through you as her lips quirk into that teasing, predatory smile.

“See something you like?” she murmurs, her voice a low purr. “You weren’t careful enough not to like some of our pictures online, darling.”

Shit. So their coming into your room was not a coincidence.

Before you can stammer out an excuse, her lips capture yours—soft but demanding, her confidence evident in the way she takes control. Her hands slide up to cradle your face, her touch firm yet tender, while the kiss is a paradox of teasing and intensity.

Rio’s hands suddenly slide to your hips, pulling your attention. Agatha leans back just slightly, her breath fanning your face as her lips curve into a smirk.

“Your turn, my love,” she says, glancing at Rio with a playful challenge in her eyes.

Rio doesn’t hesitate. Her movements are firm as she tilts your chin towards her, her lips finding yours in a kiss that’s slower, softer, but no less consuming. Where Agatha is fire and fervour, Rio is water, her touch calm yet undeniably intoxicating. Her hand presses gently against the small of your back, holding you steady as she deepens the kiss.

When she finally pulls away, her lips linger close to yours, her breath mingling with yours in the quiet of the room. “You taste as good as I thought you would,” she murmurs, her voice low and laced with something that makes your knees weak.

Agatha laughs softly, stepping even closer so that you’re cocooned between them. Her fingers trail down your arm, igniting sparks along your skin. “I think they’re enjoying this, don’t you darling?” she teases, her gaze flicking between you and Rio.

Rio smirks, her eyes glinting in the dim light. “I’d say so.”

They exchange a knowing glance before Agatha’s hands firmly grip your shoulders, and with a playful yet commanding push, they guide you onto the bed, the softness of the sheets contrasting with the harsh intensity of their movements.

Agatha walks into what you presume is her closet, but you don’t think on it for long as Rio is straddling you in a matter of moments. She is kissing you with a deep need; meanwhile, her hand makes its way under the waistband of your shorts; she swipes two of her fingers through your folds, gathering your wetness, letting out a groan of pleasure at the feel of it and brings her fingers to your lips.

Just as you’re about to take her digits in your mouth, you hear Agatha’s voice full of desire call, "Off."

But Rio doesn’t move; instead, she pushes her fingers into your mouth, groaning at the feeling.

Agatha grabs the woman by the scruff of the neck and yanks her off of you.

“But Aggie, they’re so wet already,” Rio whines.

If your lips weren’t already parted from having sucked on Rio’s fingers, your mouth would have dropped open at the sight of Agatha; she had removed her robe, revealing the purple lace lingerie underneath.

She places something you can’t see at the foot of the bed and comes to stand next to you. “It seems like everything you wear ends up soaked,” she says, mock concern coating every word. 

Rio looks longingly at Agatha, a silent request on her face. With a single nod from Agatha, Rio starts undressing you hungrily. And as soon as you're bare, her mouth is on you again, exploring every inch of newly exposed skin.

“You know,” Agatha drawls, “Before your little stunt back there, my wife and I were finishing off our date with a wonderful night in bed.” She continued. “Both of us talked—or rather tried to talk between our moans—about how we’d get you to join us.” You feel Rio smirk against your skin at this last sentence.

You shudder under Rio’s relentless kisses and Agatha’s firm gaze. Your legs are forced apart with strong hands, and you feel the cool air hit your heat.

“You’re dripping everywhere,” Agatha states for the second time that evening. “Now let us take care of you.” Her voice is sure, leaving no room for arguments.

Rio’s makes her way down your body, nipping and sucking at your skin. When she reaches your thighs, her touch becomes lighter, stopping short of where you want her mouth most.

“Please.” You beg, back arching up into her.

The feeling of her lips on your clit is pure ecstasy. Your eyes flutter shut at the sensation of Rio starting to suck lightly. Moaning, you grab a fistful of her hair and grind up into her face, seeking more. 

She hums in satisfaction, happy to fulfil your request. She nips gently and begins to tease your entrance with her tongue, dipping it in ever so slightly. It doesn’t take long before you’re cumming all over her face, her name falling repeatedly from your lips. It’s only when you start to come back down that you remember Agatha is still in the room. She is looking at you with sheer lust, clearly struggling to keep herself from interrupting Rio’s fun. 

As if they could read each other’s minds, Rio withdraws from between your legs and comes to sit behind you, pulling you up so your back is against her chest. She pinches one of your nipples, causing your head to drop back on to her shoulder. A firm hand grips your chin, forcing it back up, and you open your eyes to see Agatha kneeling between your legs, her hands rubbing up and down your thighs.

“You need to look at Mommy when she fucks you,” Rio whispers in your ear before playfully nibbling your earlobe.

Agatha’s arms snake under your legs, pulling your hips up and into her. It’s then that you feel something hard poke you, making your eyes go wide. At some point when Rio was fucking you, Agatha had slipped into a harness, a purple dildo secured firmly in the centre.

“Are you sure you want this?” She asks, bringing the tip to your entrance. “I’ll only continue with your enthusiastic consent.”

The fact that she cares enough to make sure you were definitely okay with this, only turns you on more. “Yes. Please, Agatha—" Rio's grip on your jaw tightens. “Mommy,” you correct yourself. “Please fuck me, Mommy.”

And with that, she slides into you, facing very little resistance with how wet you are. As she bottoms out, her hips pressing into yours, you can’t help the whimper that escapes your lips.

“Kiss me,” you demand.

You hear Agatha chuckle when she leans into you, capturing your lips in a searing kiss while still continuing her thrusts. 

The sex is messy and loud, and you cum at least two more times before the couple shows any kind of stopping. You are left gasping, your body shaking; Rio’s firm hold on you is the only thing keeping you upright.

“Think you can go for one more round, sweetheart?” Agatha teases as Rio climbs out from behind you.

With the strap still inside you, Agatha rolls you over so she is lying on the bed and you are straddling her hips. The other woman settles her thighs on either side of Agatha’s head, facing you.

“Honey, you really have enjoyed having our guest round, haven’t you?”

Rio doesn’t reply, only winking at you before lowering herself onto Agatha’s face.

You start to grind your hips at the sight, the strap hitting the perfect spot inside you, Agatha begins to flick her tongue over Rio’s clit, and Rio pulls your face in to start making out with you. This change in position has the harness rubbing against Agatha’s clit, pulling the most gorgeous moans from her. All of you are lost in waves of pleasure; the sounds of grunting, moaning, and whining filling the room. 

You all cum at different times, but it doesn’t matter because nobody stops until the last of you is coaxed through the final aftershocks of your orgasms.

Untangling yourself from one another, you and Rio flop down beside Agatha, dumb smiles plastered across all of your faces. It’s a few minutes before they get up, but Agatha takes off the harness, giving it to her wife before coming back and drawing you into her arms. Rio wanders off to their bathroom to clean it off and returns with a wet cloth to clean you up as well.

She rejoins you after she's done and presses a soft kiss to your head, coming to lay down behind you, draping her arm across your body. With the three of you like that, it is not long before you fall into a deep sleep, a small smile still visible on your lips. 

You were going to ache in the morning, but right this second you couldn’t find a single fuck to give.

——

Please like&reblog if you enjoyed, I thrive off external validation and it motivates me to write more stuff like this 👀

read part 2 here :)

[devondespresso]

every now and then one just gets completely enamoured with karen pov prologue chapter and convinces themselves they can totally post it before the whole fic is done

[satoruan]

𝑴𝑰𝑺𝑺𝑬𝑫 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑩𝑨𝑩𝒀 — 𝒑𝒐𝒍𝒚!𝑺𝒂𝒕𝒐𝑺𝒖𝒈𝒖

being in a secret relationship with Satoru & Suguru in a prestigious boarding school had its challenges.

𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑺. f!reader. raw dogging. MMF. public sex. voyeurism. established poly relationship. everyone is in their early 20’s EXPLICIT CONTENT

𝑨/𝑵. short n sweet. this is one of my top scenarios to daydream about before bed so ofc I had to insert my favs into it 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

You hadn't seen Satoru in what felt like forever, so when you passed each other in the hallway, it was no surprise that he didn't waste a second pulling you into the nearest bathroom. His hand gripped your waist firmly, the other pressing against your stomach to guide you. His lips found your uniform-clad shoulder almost immediately, planting hungry, scattered kisses that sent heat racing through your body.

“Missed you s’much baby, swear I can’t live without you.” He whispered between kisses, his hard cock pressing against your ass.

You barely had time to catch your breath before you he was lifting you on the cold marble top counter.

The nervousness of getting caught faded as he pushed into you, his lengthy cock filling you in a way only he ever could. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him closer as your legs locked around his hips, his slacks shoved down just enough to free himself.

You bit down on his shoulder to muffle the moans spilling from your lips, his name a breathless chant as his thrusts deepened.

His scent wrapped around you like a drug— woodsy musk with a hint of sweet, fruity warmth-and your head fell back, eyes rolling as pleasure overwhelmed you. His hands tightened on your hips, grounding you, owning you.

"Satoru," you gasped, clawing at his suit jacket as your body shuddered under his relentless rhythm. He leaned in, his mouth brushing against your ear as he murmured sweet nothings, voice low and husky, sending shivers straight through you.

But then you felt another body press against Satoru's back, followed by the softest kiss placed on your forehead.

"You look so fuckin’ gorgeous—both of you,"

Suguru's deep voice rumbled from behind, his hips grinding into Satoru, drawing a moan from both of you.

"Is 'Toru making you feel good, baby?" Suguru asked, his words laced with amusement as he watched you, wide-eyed and desperate.

You nodded frantically, reaching for him despite Satoru’s thrusts. Your fingers found his face, tugging weakly, silently pleading for him even as Satoru's thrusts grew rougher, stealing what little focus you had left.

"Sugu..." you whimpered, tears pricking your eyes from the overwhelming mix of pleasure and frustration. Outside of sex, Suguru was quick to give you whatever you wanted, they both did.

"You want a kiss, huh, baby?" he teased, his dark eyes burning with mischief.

A whimper escaped you as you buried your pouty face in Satoru's neck, your body trembling with need.

"Oh, don't be like that," Suguru said, his tone softer now. He grabs the back of your head, forcing you to look up at him. His gaze pins you in place, and you feel like you might come just looking into his intense eyes.

"C'mere my little crybaby," he whispered, his grin softening. His lips crashed down on yours, unyielding and raw.

The kiss stole the breath from your lungs, his hand tightening on your neck to keep you in place. All the heat and electricity between the three of you surged through that moment, leaving you in a

When he finally pulled away, you barely had time to process before he shifted his attention, planting messy kisses along Satoru's shoulder.

"Ugh—Fuck yes." Satoru groaned, his head falling back onto Suguru's chest as his pace grew erratic.

"Mmm" Suguru murmured, his voice low and throaty. "Do me a favor and make our little princess come before you give her that pretty pussy your cum."

Satoru nodded, turning his head to Suguru as if seeking approval, but Suguru was already pulling back. Both of you whined in protest at the loss of his warmth.

"I'm gonna guard the door," Suguru said with a smirk, adjusting his suit as he moved toward the exit. "Don't need the principal finding us again. Have fun, but not too much without me. Oh and I’m next ‘Toru baby.”

And then he was gone, leaving you trembling and gasping under Satoru, who wasn't about to let up anytime soon.

[rafesdollette]

LATE NIGHT DRIVES

PAIRING: BSF!RAFE X SWEETHEART!FEM!READER

summary: Rafe cherished these drives with you. Where you both would blare your wildly different music, talk about anything that came to mind, and stop at random convenience stores for snacks. It was the only time where he felt genuinely relaxed and content.

a/n: okayy new setup? 🫣 I dunno, I'm trying it out but I likee. very professional, very cutesy. Anyway, this is my first well thought out writing so please do leave constructive criticism if you think I could do something different next time...

word count: 0.6k

The route to your house was second nature by now. He's been there so much that he almost knows it better than his own home. which he doesn't mind at all, cause your house was basically his second home.

As you lie in your bed, your phone buzzes with an "I'm outside" text from Rafe. So per routine, you get up, throwing on the first hoodie in reach and heading out of the door.

He blows out out a breath, letting out a low "Its about fucking time" as you get in his truck.

"yeah yeah, it wasn't that long. you're just impatient"

he pulls out of your driveway, scoffing slightly "I must have plenty of patience, I deal with you, don't I? and put your seat belt on."

Once your seat belt is fastened, he begins driving on the road, having no destination in mind like usual. For a while, it's just silence between you two. Which isn't uncommon for both of you, it's familiar and more comforting than he'd like to admit.

"Lets stop at a gas station for snacks" you request, looking out the window

He nods, a murmured "sure" leaving his lips as he drives in the direction of the nearest gas station.

Entering the gas station, you immediately make your way toward the section with candy, picking out packages of a variety of candies while he heads towards the chips.

Once you both have gathered a good amount of snacks for each of you, which you both are gonna end up sharing anyway, you set them down on the counter as the cashier to rings up all of the items that he ends up paying for like usual since he'll throw a fit if he doesn't.

When you both make it into the car, he drives to the usual spot you both spend nights at. An empty parking lot. "Oh my gosh, turn it up!" you motion to the radio, smiling widely.

He groans as he turns up the radio "What the hell is this? Taylor Swift?"

"Sabrina Carpenter" you correct "And it's good, just listen."

"Yeah, I'd rather not" he replies as he takes a few gummy bears from the bag in your lap. He always claims to hate your music taste but you always find him humming a beat to one of the songs you pick out during a drive.

He leans back into his seat, chewing slowly as he listens to the lyrics. "You listen to some dirty music" he chuckles

"Hey, she's not that bad. You should see her on tour though, you'll have a stroke."

he raises his eyebrow, an amused expression on his face "really, huh? what, are you gonna go?"

you hum, shaking your head "No. I want to, though. But her tickets are kinda pricey. Maybe if I have extra money to spend soon."

"I'll take you."

The Skittles you were eating nearly get stuck in your throat as you look at him in bewilderment "What?! No! Rafe, that's too much money."

he shrugs "It's fine. I wanna do it. Just let me? Please?" of course he wouldn't bat an eye at spending that much money, he was loaded.

you hesitate for a moment, but seeing the insistence in his eyes, you eventually nod slightly "Fine. You can take me. But I'm paying you back eventually, alright?"

"Mm okay, sure. Deal." he agrees, even though he knows when it comes time for you to pay him back, he'll either give the money right back to you or refuse it.

"Thank you, Rafe. I appreciate it." you smile, genuinely touched by his willingness to spend that much money on you. It was rare that he went out of his way to please someone.

"Mhm, of course" he smiles back before throwing a gummy bear your way "consider it a late birthday gift."

"my birthday was like nine months ago, but okay."

"Mm yeah, just go with it" he chuckles, reaching over and talking your hand.

That was definitely new...