#just single pin bun

[batfambrainrotbeloved]

I have succumb to the reality of my own mortal existence :( (I got sentimental looking at older pics of me and miss my stupidly long hair-)

Like yeah getting it chopped was good for my hairs health- Before I did a "big chop" I hadn't gone to the barber in like 5 years???

It was long overdue and I wanted a change- I dont mind my shorter hair but I used to be able to do fucking SPACE BUNS and braids to my lower back- I could make the most elaborate shit and I loved it

But that just means constantly battling the demons in my mind that want me to chop it off again in the process

ANYWAYS- Im projecting my complicated relationship with hair onto Tim for a future chapter shit so just heads up

[ravenna-reid]

The Jade Ghost

Blue Spirit Zuko x Bloodbender Reader

This story is completely different to what I usually do, but I've been watching Avatar: The Last Airbender lately and really hope ya'll love Zuko as much as I do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was insufferable. Zuko, the crowned prince of the fire nation, was now a fugitive and stuck in some sort of village begging for spare change on the ground with Uncle Iroh. If that wasn't embarrassing enough, those who decided to mock him and his uncle made it all the more worse, the deep, unsettling anger within him turning into an unhinged rage. So he waited.

And when the sun would set and the darkness came to help hide Zuko's doings, he adorned his blue mask. The oxtail sabers in each hand felt good, like he'd gained some sort of control over his situation. Then he'd prowl through the night as though he was a ghost. The Blue Spirit. Taking change and food from those that looked like they had enough, or taking revenge on those that had mocked him or his uncle. He'd swiftly managed to throw one of the men that spat at Iroh into a wooden barrel. Splinters decorated the floor as well as the change the man had taken from them earlier in the day. Zuko grabbed the gold pieces and slipped them into his pocket. As he turned down the street, an opulent looking home being his next target, a blurred figure metres before him quickly caught his attention.

Zuko ducked his head to the side, just missing a dagger as it found its home in the wooden beam beside his head. Zuko turned on his heel to see three hooded men coming his way, armed and ferocious. He was able to swiftly disarm the first thug, throwing him into the wall of a nearby home. The other two put up a better fight. Zuko was focused on pinning the second ones arms, given he happened to be an Earthbender, but focusing his attention on the man almost made him forget the third thug. As Zuko turned and expected the blow to his head, something glinted in the air. Flashed as quick as a light. A swoosh sound came after it and the third man hit the ground hard.

Zuko dealt a devastating strike to the Earthbender before training his attention onto another person. Someone new. Adorned in an emerald green robe, her hair was pulled back into a tight bun, a single gold chop stick running through it. Her face, however, was concealed. An immaculate mask that looked as though it was carved from jade sat on her face, a mask almost similar to Zuko's. Steady eyes watched the third man through the jade mask as she spun a long, gold staff between her fingers. Her eyes flickered up to Zuko though, and he barely caught what she said. "Behind you."

The Earthbender was on his feet and tore two large boulders from the pavement either side of him. Zuko slipped past each boulder as they were thrown at him. After that, Zuko's next movements were a blur as he, the two thugs, and the Jade Ghost all fought relentlessly. She seemed to be helping, so he let her help...for now.

The Earthbender managed to get his first hit of the night and knocked both Zuko and the Jade Ghost to the ground. Zuko was on his feet, ready to attack yet again, but then something happened. Something odd. Something Zuko couldn't explain.

The Earthbender's arms twitched before they tangled together. Then, with an agonising cry he dropped to the ground. Zuko's eyes cut over to the girl that laid beside him. Focus was evident in her eyes as she manoeuvred her hands in a fascinating way. Hand flat, resting in the centre of her face before she lowered her arm and moved it in a wave like formation. Zuko clutched onto his sabers. Felt his hot, laboured breath against his mask. The Earthbender suddenly fell unconscious...and then Zuko realised.

Bloodbending.

The Jade Ghost panted as she got to her feet and picked up her staff. Turning to run, she was met with the ocean blue dragon mask. He was tall, dressed in black, ready for a confrontation as he gripped onto his sabers. The Jade Ghost just stopped herself before bumping into him.

"Who are you?" He asked, tone severe.

"Hey, I'm not asking you questions. Am I?"

"I suggest you answer." He threatened.

"Listening, I've been watching you. You're not bad...you've helped a lot of my people whilst wearing your little mask. Like me. So how about this..."

She slipped down an alleyway and with the shake of his head, Zuko quickly followed. She didn't want a confrontation, not when the sun was soon to rise and she didn't see the man in the mask as a threat.

As she sprinted and took the chance to look over her shoulder, relief spread through her chest. The Blue Spirit wasn't there. But suddenly, he was jumping down from a nearby roof. He grabbed onto her as he dropped down, and the pair tumbled over the ground before coming to a stop. The Jade Ghost tried her staff before it was knocked from her hands. Then, she resorted to using hand-to-hand combat. The strikes were fast and precise, but Zuko was just as fast and precise as her. She slipped his arm behind his back and put him in a hold before he broke out and pinned her against the wall.

Masks centimetres from each other, he leant in to ask another question.

"That was bloodbending, wasn't it?"

"Wanna find out?" She hissed.

His determination faltered. They stood and watched each other, and Zuko felt something he couldn't ignore. What was it? Was he impressed? Was he admiring her? He almost wanted to hit his head against the wall.

Suddenly, a light, green dust was thrown into his face. An irritable itch began in his eyes as he quickly let go of her. And just like that, she slipped away into the night. Just like a ghost. As he tried to search for her, Zuko quickly became annoyed. Dumbfounded. Curious.

Zuko made it back to the sorry place him and his uncle were calling 'home' for a while, hiding his mask and sabers inside of a deep crevice in the house they were staying in.

"Where did you go?" Iroh asked, sipping his fourth cup of tea as he watched his nephew angrily enter the room. The sun was filtering into the room, it's beams warm and welcoming.

"I had to clear my head. Tell me uncle, do you know anything about the Jade Ghost?"

"The Jade Ghost? Hmm," His uncle stroked his beard as he sifted through his memories. "Nope, never heard of him."

"Her." Zuko corrected as he stared out the window and wondered where she went. Who she was. How she learnt to bloodbend.

"Until next time Jade Ghost."

[pboogerswbb]

SO IT GOES - chapter 5

Paige Bueckers x oc Warnings: language, sexual themes and language, drinking, not my best work lol Wordcount: 6.6K A/C: so have we come up with a shipname for zari and paige yet?? anyways ty all for the support and sooo much love on the last part - especially those who remained patient for a new part! i've got a LOT of stuff going on rn so please be understanding if parts take a little longer to come out! i wanna write badly but i gotta prioritise real life unless y'all wanna start paying me lol anyways, this should be a rewarding chapter to some of y'all!! anyways go read!!

-

Before London

“The skirt,” my childhood friend Olivia’s voice filters through the speaker, my phone set up on my bed as I try on different outfits for the evening on facetime. 

I stare into my reflection, the black miniskirt not leaving much to imagination, my legs fully on display. I sigh, unsure whether it would be too much for the night.

“I don’t know Liv, the dress is a little less revealing though,” I complain, turning around and seeing the way the tight skirt hugs my curves.

“Exactly why you should wear the skirt instead.”

I laugh, shaking my head at her face on my phone screen. “I’m not going there to shag someone. It’s going to be mostly the team anyway.”

“Izzie, you are single now. Act like it. Have you even hooked up with anyone since…?”

I scoff. “Do you think I have time for anything like that?”

“Maybe if you schedule it in…” Olivia jokes, making my mouth fall open feeling offended.

“Hey! I’m perfectly happy being single right now. Love is the last thing I should be thinking about.”

“Well, I still think you should wear the skirt,” the girl answers, making me groan.

“Fine, okay gotta go. I’ll text you!” I wave bye, before hanging up, realising my ride must have arrived. One more glance in the mirror and I decide it will do - the black mini skirt and a matching black cowl neck top, the back draped low to reveal the smooth skin of my back along my spine. The outfit was simple yet sexy, the stacked chunky golden jewelry dressing the look up. I’ve pinned my hair up in a bun, curls falling out as if by accident - in reality the hairdo had taken over 45 minutes to accomplish.

“Good enough,” I murmur to myself, putting on my boots and quickly hurrying out the door. Just like we had agreed, Trey is waiting in an Uber, waving me over. He had sent me a message earlier asking if we could ride together. Of course I had said yes out of politeness. Though if I’m honest, I always felt a little uneasy around him.

“Hey!” I smile politely climbing into the backseat with a potted orchid in my hands.

Trey meets my smile with an even wider one, eyeing me up and down as I buckle my seatbelt.

“Housewarming present?” He asks, pointing to the potted flower. I shrug and nod.

“I didn’t really know what to get them,” I admit, crossing my legs and eyeing the purple and white flower.

“Lala’s gonna love that,” Trey nods, his eyes still locked on me and my outfit. “You look…” he goes silent, and from my peripheral vision I see the man shaking his head. “Really good.”

“Oh, thanks,” I mumble, brushing it off lightheartedly as I grab my phone which is frantically buzzing.

Paige  When are u coming? I’m already here and idk anyone Oh nvm Lou and Chris are here So… when u coming???

I feel my stomach doing flips as I read the texts, my mind still swirling with how she’d made me breakfast just earlier this morning. How my couch still smells just like her even hours later. I wasn’t sure what it was, but there was something comforting about her presence. The way she worked to make me laugh, to get me to relax. Like she wanted to take care of me.

Just left so I should be there soon x

Izzie Iz Help We’re drinking wine

Time to be a big girl and learn Paige

But I don’t wanna 🙁 Fine Bc you said so

Good girl

Freaky 😏

Paige

Sorry I pregamed

Of course you did I’ll be there soon x

Giggling at my phone, I place it on my lap, not wanting to be rude towards the man sitting next to me. Trey’s eyes are locked on me, and I can feel myself growing uneasy, especially when I realise I have nothing to talk to him about other than work.

”You excited for tonight?” He asks.

”Yeah, it’s going to be nice to see everyone out of work,” I answer, keeping my composure despite feeling awkward, begging he doesn’t pick up on it. I had become quite good at that (or Trey was more ignorant than I realised).

”Oh yeah, you haven’t really had the chance to do that yet huh?” He asks, his deep voice gravelly.

“Not really no.”

“Well, if you ever get lonely, you can always call me up Zari,” Trey says, reaching over and suddenly placing his hand on mine resting on my lap. I keep still as long as I can before pulling it away, pretending I just needed that specific hand to hold the pot in my lap now.

“Uh, yeah that’s really sweet of you. Thank you,” I chuckle awkwardly. “Paige lives right upstairs actually so I’ve been spending some time with her.”

Trey is taken aback, his brows rising. “Paige?”

“Yeah we’re friends,” I smile. Trey’s dark brown eyes keep watching me, clearly thinking about something till he shrugs and looks away. 

The drive is quiet, full of awkward comments by the man clearly eager to make conversation. Normally I was better than this at the small talk that the Americans seemed to love so much - but not today. I could feel my stomach twisting with nerves and butterflies in anticipation for the evening. I wasn’t entirely sure why. But all I knew I was eager to see Paige - she had a way of grounding me.

We finally get to the building, awkwardly accompanying each other in the elevator much like my first day working for the Wings. I’m the one to ring the doorbell, Trey standing close behind me.

“Hey pretty girl!” Lala opens the door with a warm smile. “Oh hey Trey, come in come in!”

She steps aside, letting both of us in. The hallway is long and the ceilings are high, the space modern but filled with gorgeous furniture bringing warmth into the space. 

“Wow, beautiful,” I gasp looking around.

“Issa work in process,” Lala laughs. I catch a glimpse into the open concept kitchen/living room, filled with people who had arrived on time unlike me and Trey (our Uber had taken a “shortcut”, which ended up taking 15 minutes longer than the normal drive.) I could tell alcohol was already flowing from the loud laughs echoing around the apartment.

“Oh, here you go!” I smile, handing Lala the orchid. “I wasn’t sure what you two wanted so I hope that’s okay.”

Lala gasps, admiring the plant. “No, this is gorg! And so are you, look at that skirt girl.”

I blush a little as she spins me around, admiring my outfit. 

“Is it too short?” I ask but Lala looks at me with raised brows. It’s then I notice her skirt is just as short, if not shorter. “Nevermind!”

The woman laughs, wrapping an arm around my waist and bringing me further into the apartment. My eyes immediately land on Paige next to Arike, both taking up half of the couch as if partaking in the Olympics of manspreading. Their laughs rise above the chatter of the crowd, making them impossible to miss. Even if subconsciously I had been looking for the blonde the second I stepped in.

“Yeah… they’re already drunk, thought you should know,” Lala nods towards the two.

“I heard, Paige was texting me already.”

The woman turns to me grinning a little. “Of course she was.” I’m not exactly sure what it means but don’t get the opportunity to ask before I hear a loud screech interrupting the both of us.

“Izzie!!” Paige gasps, her voice soaring above the noise. She climbs off the couch, rushing to me through the crowd. To my surprise the blonde wraps her arms around me, pulling me into a tight hug. I can’t help the smile that spreads to my face. It comes naturally, when my arms wrap around her neck, pulling her in. Like since our first hug this morning, physical closeness felt easy. She smells like deodorant, sandalwood and a hint of alcohol. Breaking the hug, I eye her fit up and down - the olive cuban collar shirt and shorts in a matching pattern, two silver chains dangling on her neck, hair in a slicked back bun. 

All while I’ve been admiring Paige’s outfit, her gaze has been roaming across my body, taking me in. I notice a hint of red burning on her cheeks when her blue eyes land on my skirt. Suddenly I have the strongest need for a drink. Our stares meet, and for a fleeting moment I think she’s about to say something. But before she can, Arike is pulling me into a friendly hug.

“So glad you came, Zari! Whatchu wanna drink?” 

I feel flustered, barely hearing her. Clearing my throat, I finally answer, feeling the blonde’s eyes boring into me.

“White wine please?”

Lala laughs, shaking her head and grabbing my shoulders. “You’re gonna need something stronger to keep up with us baby.”

I laugh. “Okay, tequila soda then?”

“Attagirl, lime?”

“Yes please,” I nod, watching Lala and Arike head towards the kitchen island covered in bottles of booze and glasses, leaving me alone with Paige. 

For the first time in weeks, there’s a sense of awkwardness between us, neither of us knowing what to say. I wanted to tell her she looks good, that the olive against her skin that had grown more tan in Dallas made her glow in a way I had never seen before. But something in my throat doesn’t allow the words to come out. Thankfully the booze in Paige’s system makes her miss the weird tension completely.

“You look,” she starts, stepping closer to me, arm brushing against mine. She shakes her head, looking me up and down which is enough to make my ears burn. “Never seen you look like this before.”

I tilt my head, meeting her blue eyes challengingly. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

To my enjoyment, this makes her flustered, her cheeks bright pink now.

“You know it is ma,” she grins.

“You and that bloody nickname,” I shake my head, rolling my eyes at the blonde, when Lala and Arike return to us with my drink.

“You guys wanna play beer pong?” Arike asks as I grab the glass from Lala.

“What is this, a frat house?” Paige laughs, making Lala groan.

“Trust, it wasn’t my choice.”

-

After a long debate between me, Izzie, Arike and Lala on who should be teaming up, we decided that the only fair combination was me with Lala, while Arike and Izzie played against us - the girls claiming it wouldn’t be right for the two hoopers to play beer pong against non-athletes. Honestly, I barely had listened to the conversation at all. Because the way Izzie looks tonight has me grasping the drink in my hand so tight my knuckles were beginning to turn white. My mind is travelling to the filthiest places at the thought of what is underneath the hemline of her skirt, her glowy legs making me weak in the knees. Even worse was the low, scooped back of her shirt, her spine’s movement visible as she walked around the room. I couldn’t take my eyes off her, I couldn’t even stop the trembling of my hands. I needed to get more drinks in me quickly.

It seemed like the dark haired girl had the same idea, downing her first tequila soda in a matter of minutes as we set up the game. The tension often visible on her face only to me was slowly beginning to melt away.

“We’re about to win aight?” I tell Lala next to me, which makes Izzie let out a loud scoff.

“You really think I’ll let you win Bueckers?” The dark haired girl asks, challenging me.

“Yo, who’s the athlete here,” I respond, an arrogant grin on my face but she won’t back down, catlike eyes staring me down at the opposite end of the table.

“You’re enormously underestimating my desire to win.”

“Oh yeah?”

Izzie nods. “Yes Paige.”

And she’s right. I don’t know if it’s the alcohol already flowing in my system, or the way Izara looks, her green eyes locked on me everytime I bounce the ball off the table but my aim is off. And somehow she keeps aiming perfectly, a sly grin and her sharp eyes glimmering as she makes me drink one cup of beer after another, after another until Lala is the one to call it off, admitting defeat gracefully.

Arike and Izara hug, celebrating their win, but I can’t even be mad - the way Izzie’s mouth is stretched into a wide smile, the way she was letting go off her disciplined, hard exterior as a result of the alcohol was such a joy to watch I could’ve soaked in it forever.

“I told you! I told you!” Iz laughs, coming over to me and getting up in my face. But all I’m doing is smirking, my hand snaking around her waist and pulling her close without thinking about it much. But she doesn’t pull away either, even when our fronts nearly press together, heat radiating between us. The party has turned loud, drunk people bumping into each other, yelling over the music, but all I see is the dark haired girl in front of me, and the blush on her cheeks.

“You were cheating Iz,” I tell her, heavy eyes gazing down at the girl.

“How?” She asks, stunned.

I shrug. “I dunno.” I did know. It was that damn outfit. It took every ounce of self-discipline I had not to drag her to the bathroom and pull that skirt up. How was I expected to aim while my thoughts were running out of control.

“Here you areeeee!” Satou’s voice interrupts the moment, making me stumble backwards and letting go of the girl in my arms realising how close I’d been to losing control and leaning down to kiss her.

Satou hugs both me and Iz, looking around for the couple of the hour who have suddenly disappeared. “Where the lovebirds at?” She asks, holding a wrapped present in her hands. I chuckle shrugging but Zari lets out a giggle.

“Last I saw them they were getting pretty cosy,” she laughs, leaning into my side whether on purpose or on accident I’m not sure. But it leaves my skin tingling.

“No one’s surprised,” Satou laughs, waving her friend over. “Savannah, this is Paige and… Izara, right?” 

“She prefers Zari,” I correct before Iz can even say a word. From my peripheral vision I see her head snap to me, eyes growing softer as they land on me. I could tell she was happy with me, which made me want to get on my knees and beg for her to let me serve her forever. Okay, no, let me get a grip.

“Whassup,” I nod at Savannah, who smiles at both me and Izzie. Suddenly, the girl beside me stumbles as someone bumps into her, crashing straight into me.

“Woah,” I grab a hold of her, my hand naturally landing on the small of her back. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she giggles, watching me and her nose scrunching as her face twists into a laugh. The sparkling eyeshadow covering her eyelids makes her shine even more, curled strands falling onto her face out of the updo her long, dark hair is in. She looks so beautiful I feel breathless, even more so up close.

“You want a drink ma? I could use one,” I ask, staring into the green of her eyes, feeling the alcohol too much to realise that our faces are only inches away at this point.

She rolls her eyes. “Paige, I hate that nickname.”

“Do you want a drink or not woman?” I ask annoyed, teasing her. But her face hardens, and her eyes sharpen.

“Excuse me?”

Her tone is hard and serious, making my lower abdomen flip. As inappropriate as it feels, I’m exceptionally turned on.

I swallow, biting my lower lip. “Uh…”

“Woman?” She interrupts me, furrowing her brows. I can feel heat pooling between my legs, making my mind spin.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble, my voice coming out shaky from how flustered my thoughts had turned me.

“What’s that?” She asks, brows rising as she watches my mouth expectantly.

“I’m sorry Izzie,” I say louder, my chest heaving now. To my surprise, I notice her breathing is growing heavy too.

“Mhm, that’s better,” she nods, eyes still on my mouth as I bite down on my lower lip. And for just a second, as my eyes flicker from her eyes to her glossed lips, I consider leaning in and pressing a kiss on them, mind jumping to how she might taste. Like heaven I bet.

“So a drink then?” Iz asks, interrupting my spinning thoughts. 

“Oh right, yeah,” I compose myself, “we’ll be right back.”

We leave Satou and Savannah alone, my hand on the small of Izara’s back guiding her through the people to the kitchen island.

“What do we want to drink?” The girl asks, looking at the row of bottles lining the counter. I lean in even closer to her side, letting my hand drag from her back to around her waist. The girl’s breath hitches audibly, yet she doesn’t pull back.

“Shots! Now!” Arike suddenly interrupts us, Lala following close behind her.

“Bro where you been?” I ask, watching as she begins to pour shots of vodka for all four of us. Her and Lala exchange a look that tells me I don’t want to know the answer to my question.

“Nevermind,” I mumble, making Izzie giggle, the alcohol finally loosening her up.

“No, I really shouldn’t,” the dark haired girl shakes her head, pushing the shot away.

“Oh c’mooonnn!!” I groan, pushing it back.

“Yeah Zari, c’mon,” Rike complains.

I pick up my own shot glass, and Izara’s as well, bringing it to her lips. She’s considering, meeting my gaze, until her pretty lips open and I tip the glass, pouring the shot into her mouth as I throw my head back, swallowing mine. 

“Holy shit,” I cough, making everyone around me laugh, looking at the dark haired girl whose face doesn’t even twitch from the alcohol. Damn.

“And another oneeee,” Arike laughs, now pouring tequila into the glasses, clearly trying to get us two drunk. I glare at her, picking up on what she was up to. But Rike merely winks at me, handing us salt and lemon slices.

“Oh boy,” Izara chuckles, eyeing the alcohol. I follow closely as her tongue darts out to lick her wrist, my mind spinning with dirty thoughts involving that tongue between my le-

“Lemon!” The girl yelps, squeezing her eyes shut having taken the shot. I quickly grab the slice from the counter, holding Izzie’s face still by her chin as I place the wedge between her lips. Her teeth bite into it, sucking on the bitter fruit to get rid of the taste in her mouth.

Her dark lashes flutter open, and she pulls away with a grin. “Your turn.”

I scratch the back of my neck, feeling my tongue already growing numb from the alcohol, my speech certainly beginning to slur soon.

“Yo Zari, you should let Paige lick the salt from your wrist,” Arike yells from the opposite side of the counter, earning a slap on the shoulder from Lala.

“Huh?” Izara laughs, turning to the pair.

“Ignore her, God knows I do,” Lala rolls her eyes.

Flustered, I fumble with the salt shaker, licking it off my hand and downing the shot of tequila, feeling the burn in my throat making me want to cough. To my surprise, Iz brings the slice of lemon to my lips, the bitter taste putting an end to the burn.

I can feel the alcohol hitting, making my cheeks burn - or maybe it’s the way the dark haired girl is looking at me, her eyes even more catlike than normal, sparkling in the dimmed lighting. Either way I can feel my brain and mouth beginning to slow down, yet my words and actions seem simultaneously sped up, like I couldn’t think them through before doing.

“I’mma admit, I’m drunk as fuck,” I laugh, making Izara throw her head back and let out a bright chuckle, grabbing onto my shoulder as she does. Fuck she looks hotter than usual, the hard, poised exterior breaking, letting me catch little glimpses into her internal life, reminiscent of the softness on her face when she fell asleep on me.

“Let’s run away before Arike makes us take more shots,” she whispers and simultaneously somehow screams, grabbing my arm and dragging me down behind the island, as if Arike and Lala weren’t standing right on the other side, watching the two of us. Still I let her, crouching behind it and letting her drag me wherever she wants to. 

-

I love Dallas! Or maybe I should reconsider when I’m sober, but now that the shots and drinks had been flowing, I had decided I loved Dallas for certain. Paige and I have been hiding behind a corner, by the entrance to Arike’s and Lala’s bedroom, for the past hour, giggling and talking. I’ve realised Paige might be one of my favourite people I’ve ever met, the strain in my abs a reminder of how easily she made me laugh. How effortless it was to spend time with her, like I didn’t have to put up any exterior or front. I felt comfortable being myself with her. So naturally, in my drunken state, the words slip from my lips easily.

“You’re like, my favourite person right now,” I giggle, leaning my back against the cool wall and watching upwards at her. Paige’s eyes are heavy and red as a result of the alcohol, hair somehow still neatly slicked back, however a button on her chest left unbuttoned, displaying that she definitely wasn’t wearing a bra under the shirt.

“Yeah?” Paige asks, a proud smirk on her face. She’s standing in front of me, arms crossed.

“Don’t let it get into your head darling,” I scoff, pushing her off by her abdomen, feeling the muscles there tighten when my fingertips graze her through the shirt. For whatever reason I’d been wanting her to touch me all night, enjoying the times she wrapped her arm around my waist, or guided me through a crowd. It felt good to be touched, so I didn’t worry about what it meant further. I just wanted her hands on me. Like you’d want to hug a friend after remembering how much you love them.

“Why do you get to have all these nicknames but I don’t get to call you ma?” She asks, stumbling back but returning to her prior position, if not a little closer. I place my hands on her waist, having to tilt my head to look at her - that’s how close she is.

“Why do you want to call me ma?”

“Because,” she groans, looking for something to say. “Ion know it suits you.”

“Why?” I laugh.

“Because you’re sexy.”

I’m drunk. And I know it’s because I’m drunk. It has to be. But I can feel myself begin to throb between my legs when Paige says those words, when her teeth bite onto her bottom lip, when she looks me up and down. Suddenly I’m painfully aware of the swirling in my lower abdomen, the heat spreading straight to my core.

The blonde rubs the bridge of her nose. “Ahh shit Iz, I didn’t mean it like that. My bad. You just look really damn good. In like a friend wa-”

“You think I look sexy?”

It’s like my mouth and brain aren’t working together, the words just forming and leaving my lips without a single thought or action to stop them. For some reason it comes out almost whiny. Like I want her opinion, her reassurance.

Paige looks surprised, clenching her jaw before kissing her teeth and licking her lips, hands twitching as if for something to touch.

“I meannn… you really gotta ask that?” She says hoarsely, stepping closer and placing her hands on my hips. It feels good, but I want more, pushing my body off the wall and pressing my front against her. The sparks are immediate, and I nearly groan at the contact. 

“You didn’t answer,” I demand, staring into the blues of her eyes. Only then I realise how blue they really are, like a turquoise ocean against a sandy beach, inviting, beautiful. My heart begins to pound, even more so when I feel Paige’s hands move from my waist, downwards to my hips, to the small of my back, and finally to my ass. 

“Perfect,” she coos.

The breath she lets out is heavy, loud, but I barely register, my mouth parting a little. To say the chills travelling through my body are overwhelming would be an understatement, my mind suddenly spinning with realisation of something I’d been feeling for a while, yet only recognised now.

“Is this okay?” Paige asks, making me nod my head. When I do so I feel the blonde’s hands squeeze just a little, forcing a breathy whimper to spill from my lips. Overcome with the urge to be even closer to her, I wrap my arms around the girl’s broad shoulders and lean my head into the crook of her neck, my body slotting against hers just right. It feels euphoric.

 “Baby I would leave too if I was Paige, that poor girl got to deal with you on a daily basis alr-”

Suddenly Lala’s voice grows louder as she turns the corner, Arike on her tail. 

“Oh, sorry y’all,” the woman gasps seeing us embracing, Paige’s hands resting on my ass. Embarrassed, I pull away, nearly pushing the blonde off of me.

“Uh, I need a drink,” I murmur, my thoughts moving so quickly they make no sense, not even entirely sure what just happened in a drunken hue.

“Yoooo,” I hear Arike snickering, and Lala shutting her up.

Paige follows close behind me all the way back to the kitchen island, people around the apartment now notably drunker, louder, stumbling into each other. “You aight?” 

“Yeah, yes. I am,” I murmur, pouring whatever booze there was in reach into a glass and downing it, attempting to calm the running thoughts trying to make sense of all of this.

“You sure ma?”

Fuck. The nickname. Suddenly it’s making my core burn, and I feel arousal pooling between my legs almost uncomfortably. Maybe that nickname wasn’t so bad. Maybe it got me so hot and bothered I could barely think. Maybe I wanted her to call me that and only that for the rest of my life.

“Mm, I’m sure,” I mumble, turning to look at the tall blonde beside me, the way some of the buttons on her shirt have come undone, the way she’s eyeing me back, her veiny hands wrapping around a bottle as she pours herself another drink, the chains on her neck, dangling into her shirt. It’s then when I realise - I want to fuck Paige Bueckers.

“Here you are, Paige! Have you seen Satou?” Savannah interrupts us, but my eyes are still stuck on the blonde next to me.

“No, I got no idea where she is sorry.”

“What about your girlfriend, she seen her?”

Suddenly my eyes snap from Paige to the stranger leaning over the island, blinking stupidly.

“I’m not her girlfriend,” I say sternly, my tone harder than it needs to be. I could feel myself getting overwhelmed.

“Wh- oh shit, I’m sorry. You two just seem like a coup-”

“We’re not together,” Paige interrupts her, clearly picking up on my stress levels rising. I feel the room spinning, my breathing growing shallow, my cheeks burning up.

Lala, who had been watching me and the blonde all night, swiftly walks over and grabs me by the waist. “Come with me baby,” she coos, her voice caring and affectionate as she walks me into the couple’s bedroom, closing the door behind us, separating me from everything causing the engulfing emotions.

“Sit down Zari, I’ll get you some water.”

I do as the older woman says, feeling embarrassed, just praying to any God that I didn’t cause a scene. I could feel my head spinning still, the effect from the alcohol still flowing in my bloodstream.

Lala returns and hands me a glass. I chug it down, handing it back to the woman and staring at the floor.

“Are you alright?” Lala asks, sitting next to me and following me closely. I rub my forehead, shrugging.

“I’m sorry, I think I’m more drunk than I realised,” I murmur but the woman shakes your head.

“I think it’s more than that, Zari.”

I look at her, a knowing expression on the woman’s face.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s Paige isn’t it, you like her?”

I sigh, not even sure how to answer that question. Not sure at all what the feelings swirling inside me meant. 

“I… I just think I’m drunk-”

“She likes you,” Lala interrupts me. I take her words in, blinking slowly as I do. Paige likes me?

“How do you know?” I ask in a moment of vulnerability. Something about the older woman made me feel safe.

Lala chuckles, shaking her head. “I think everybody knows baby.”

Oh.

I’m speechless for once, staring at the wall, recounting every interaction I had ever had with the blonde girl. My friend. Could she really like me? Worse of all, have I led her on?

“Look, just be careful alright. Don’t give her the wrong idea if… you know, you don’t feel the same,” Lala rubs my shoulders, like reading my thoughts. It all confused me, my feelings most of all - and deep deep down I wasn’t sure about what I felt, my mind an entangled, confusing pile of perplexity.

-

“Hey you alright?” Paige murmurs to me, pressing into my back as I’m pouring myself more water in the kitchen after my little breather. My body is covered in chills once more by her proximity - which must be a sign I like her at least a little bit. Or maybe I’m just needy for someone to touch me. I was drunk after all, and it had been a while. But then again, these chills always occurred when the blonde’s hands were on me, sometimes even when they were not. Just a simple look was enough.

“Yeah, I felt a little dizzy. Feel better now though,” I murmur, finishing another glass of water.

Paige hesitates, chewing on her cheek, clearly in her head as I turn around and notice her expression. “I didn’t do too much ri-”

“Here you are!! I love this song, come dance!” A drunk Satou interrupts the moment, dragging both me and the blonde into the living room, not giving us much choice in the matter. 

“Song’s almost over,” Paige chuckles, glancing at me as I shrug but follow the two hoopers.

“Who cares, I love it!” Satou laughs. We’re surrounded by a few others, dancing to the Drake song echoing around the apartment. As the beat fades out, I hear the soft melody of What You Heard by Sonder take over.

“Nooo, boo, I’mma go ask for more Drake,” Satou murmurs, walking off, leaving me and Paige alone.

Our gazes meet and we chuckle at the same time at the girl who just left, clearly even drunker than me and Paige.

“Fuck your mind up, waste time, I'm prone to that, do it all the time, Keep your guard up or wait in line”

“This song is actually fire,” Paige grins and I nod.

“It is.”

I take a dip in her blue eyes, finding comfort in them as the song plays, not at all shocked when Paige steps closer and grabs a hold of my waist, swaying with me. The alcohol is still pumping through my veins, making it easy to wrap my arms around her neck without thinking what it might mean. It felt good to be close to her, so what?

“What's the word? Tell me what you've heard, Don't tell me what to do, just tell me when it hurts.”

Paige sings along to the lyrics, the tiniest bit off-key yet something about it makes me grow flustered quickly, mind flashing with images of her doing exactly what the lyrics describe.

“What's the word? Tell me what you've heard, Don't tell me what to do, just tell me when it hurts, When I get you to myself, it's murder,” I sing back to Paige, our eyes meeting. Her eyelids are heavy from the drinks, and there’s a hint of a smirk on her face. Her silver chains sparkle in the dim lighting, but all I’m looking at is the way she’s staring me down.

Something about the alcohol makes me bold, pressing my body closer to hers, my fingernails scratching into the back of her neck gently, watching as her eyes nearly flutter shut at the contact.

“You be wildin', I be wildin', too, But not like you, shit, maybe a little like you, Maybe we ain't so different, maybe I be trippin', too,” we sing to each other, the blonde’s thumbs rubbing circles on my hips as we dance together. I feel the burn from earlier spread to my core once more, making it hard to think clearly. 

Our faces are inching closer, to the point where I can feel her hot breath on my skin. My heart begins to pound and it becomes difficult to keep my eyes open. Paige licks her lips, leaning downwards. For a moment I think she’s about to kiss me, the distance between us growing smaller and smaller - until she ghosts my lips, turning her face, mouth hovering right over my ear, warm breath tickling against my skin.

“If he was a winner, Girl, you wouldn't have to worry 'bout a damn thing, If I was up in it, shit, I bet a pound that I'd put it down, Make you forget that you was ever with him,” she murmurs into my ear with the lyrics of the song, left hand staying on my hip, right hand coming up to the back of my head to hold it still as we keep swaying to the melody.

I feel flustered, my cheeks growing hotter and my core aching for something. No, not for something - for Paige.

“And I hate talking 'bout my stroke game, But girl, I'm giving you the whole thing,” she murmurs with a deep, hoarse voice, my body tingling and on fire at the same time. 

Turning my face, my nose brushes into the blonde’s, but I’m too scared to open my eyes, too scared that if I do I’ll start thinking again, realising how senseless this entire situation is.

Paige’s nose nuzzles mine, and I can hear the shallowness of her breathing, her hand at the back of my head maneuvering me in a way so our lips are hovering over each other. I feel like I might pass out, my heart trying to race out of my chest at this point.

“Paige, Zari, I finally found herrrr!” Satou shouts over the crowd, making both of us pull away. My eyes shoot open and I see the girl holding her friend Savannah.

“Oh! Good!” I smile awkwardly, Paige’s hands still on me. 

“Jesus…” The blonde murmurs to herself, looking around clearly frustrated by the unwelcome interruption. “You wanna go to the balcony for, uh, some fresh air?”

“Yeah,” I nod, without thinking. I let the tall girl walk me onto the balcony, closing the door behind us.

Fresh air it is not, the weather a hot and humid warning for the approaching scorching Dallas summer. But it still feels right to be alone with Paige, under the dark Texas sky. I glance upwards, looking at the stars to avoid meeting the blonde’s stare.

“So damn hot,” Paige groans, unbuttoning her shirt even more to get more airflow, though I couldn’t care less. I’m only gazing at the way the chains on her neck rest against her skin.

“Yeah, it certainly is,” I mumble, leaning my back against the glass railing.

Paige looks at me with something I can’t recognise, her expression softening as she’s taking steps towards me. “Fuck, that accent,” she murmurs, her hands easily finding their way to my waist again.

“What do you mean?” I laugh.

She shrugs. “I dunno, I just love hearing you talk.”

I chuckle, bringing my hand to her chest and playing with the chain there, number 5 dangling off it. Paige grins too, continuing.

“And the things you say too.”

I scoff, displeased. “Like what?”

“I dunno! British things!”

“British things??” I ask, laughing so hard my stomach begins to hurt, my fingers still fiddling the number 5.

“Like… Taking the piss!” She laughs, leaning closer. I bend forward too, my face scrunching as pearls of giggles spill from my mouth.

“Oh my God, you’re so stupid,” I murmur in a blur of joy, my hand snaking behind her head. In the haze of the alcohol and the giggles and the newfound feelings, before I can think it through, I’m pulling her down by the chain and her head, leaning closer and kissing her.

It’s heaven. Every nerve in my body is on fire. The blonde’s lips open for me, slowly but sensually sliding against mine. My legs feel weak, and my nails dig into the skin of her neck, a whimper leaving my mouth but she swallows it, groaning in response. Her hands squeeze my waist before moving to my face, landing on my jaw to keep me as close as possible - like she might die if I pull away.

I’m pressed closer to the glass behind my back as the kiss grows hungrier. Paige’s mouth opens further, her tongue darting out to slide against my lower lip, begging for entry with a small whine slipping from the blonde’s mouth. It’s like everything pent up was finally releasing, something I didn’t even know was there, bubbling right underneath the surface. My tongue meets Paige’s, both of us melting into the kiss. I feel like putty in her hands, like she could mold me whichever way possible. This is the best kiss I’ve ever experienced, I know that for sure. Jasper always kissed in such a stiff, forceful way. Right. Jasper.

It takes me back to the moment, as if for a sliver of a second I can think clearly. What the fuck am I doing. This isn’t me. I haven’t thought this through at all. I’m leading Paige on.

Abruptly I pull back for air, the taller girl already dragging me back into another kiss needily. But I push Paige back by her chest, stopping her. We’re both breathing heavily, staring at each other. What the fuck am I doing.

“I have to go, I’m sorry,” I mumble, shoving her off me as gently as I can, saying quick goodbyes to Lala and Arike before practically running down the stairs and throwing myself into a cab, leaving Paige upstairs as if nothing happened. The only proof of the night’s events merely the way my lips still burn and tingle, and my racing heart and swirling mind trying to make sense of everything.

-

taglist:@wbbgetsmewetter @thaatdigitaldiary @pb524830 @bueckersfive @lupinqs @sierrale8ne @d3arapril @lovegalor333 @avvwritesstufff @rosemariiaa @bueckers22 @taylynbueckers44 @unadulteratedcyclepaper @rizzlerbuckets @wosolipa @bridgetloveswomen @paiges-1vur @slut4uconnwbb @xxloveralways14 @bueckersbitch @janaelalfysblunt @omg-imtumbling @angryflowerwitch @ohbueckers

[ch4mpagnedrought]

friendly game

[full series]

mdni ! art, tashi, patrick

summary: pinning two of the greatest tennis players of our future will not work with you and tashi, in fact, you’ve learnt to share your prizes.

deep breaths. you take deep breaths when taking your racket out of its bag, all five fingers wrapping around the grip tightly, that is so intensely watched by two pairs of curious eyes from above in the stands, inaudibly gawking at the way your black tennis dress, sporting a small nike logo above your left breast, flourishes from around your thighs to expose the surfaces of your skin that don’t see the sun very often.

maybe the single most important game at the 2006 US open, between two upcoming tennis prodigies that also happen to be best friends. an oxymoron on the court really, tashi’s in white, you in black, her in adidas, you in nike, her hair in a tight braid, yours slicked into a low bun. eyes are torn completely apart as the both of you travel across the court, rebutting every single one of each others moves like a choreographed dance, the jaws of your audience slacked open. everybody remains paralysed, leaving the squeaks of your shoes and the heavy grunts of your labour to echo across the stands—until hands grip onto neighbouring knees and the final shot is swung.

“yes!” you shriek, throwing your racket to the ground in ecstasy, letting it bounce back behind you and the strings to shrivel from the force. from across the court, tashi heaves with squinted eyes, watching your celebration with parted lips and stepping closer to the net where you meet her—your arms wrapping around each others glistening shoulders and chests pressing firmly against one another, “good game” she tilts her head to whisper her appraisals and you hum a sweet note, flashing her a smile while the two men blink down at you. their minds completely empty apart from a state of euphoria, seeing two of the most beautiful women they had ever laid their eyes on embrace after a game that was essentially life or death. already replaying the erotic extensions of your legs at every side step, hips swivelling and slender arms extending to shape an image from within the deepest depths of their minds.

the same way that they stood completely still and fixated onto the images of you at the celebratory party hosted for you and tashi. the blonde haired boy taking sips of his drink between all the thoughts that expel from the image of you, mid underhand serve, and run through his mind. while the other faces an image of tashi, mid overhead, and tries not to make it obvious that his gaze slips into imagining anything other than what is underneath those clothes she endorses.

even when you notice their toying eyes, approaching you sat knee-to-knee with tashi at a table having just spent the last twenty minutes dancing with one another that hadn’t gone unnoticed by them either, “art donaldson and patrick zweig, right?” their eyes are momentary frozen wide before art exhales an exasperated breath, choking up on nothing. “in the flesh” patrick mumbles, fidgeting with the rim of his coke bottle. your eyes dart from one boy to another, left to right, both of their shoulders tensing as they watch tashi’s lips uncurl from the pink straw of her orange drink, guiding the bottle towards your own lips, pressing the straw into your mouth nonchalantly to share a sip of the beverage, and the sweetness of her lip gloss.

“that, that game…it was seriously breathtaking” art chokes out to the both of you, looking down admirably at you and noticing the small freckles the sun has peppered on your nose that hadn’t been visible from the top of the stands. tashi thanks him, putting the straw back into her own mouth and projecting a mental image of you and her swapping more than saliva into patrick’s mind.

his feet shuffle on the spot, shaking away the thought, “you dealt with the loss much better than i would’ve.” lightheartedly he jokes, gesturing towards tashi and sending her a small smile, “how do you two stay friends?”

“we’ve been friends since childhood,” tashi takes a glance at you, but you’re already looking back, “there’s no bad blood, we learn from eachother.” the palm of her hand flattens on your thigh momentarily, leaning back further into the couch. patrick and art huff, elbowing one another, “just like us.”

they flatter the two of you, showering you with compliments, all while trying to make it seem as if they hadn’t been discussing what exactly they would say to you for the past couple hours, until you and tashi were standing in front of their hotel room door, silently leaning closer to hear whatever was going on inside. “they don’t have time to come here” a muffled voice speaks from behind the door, and another groans loudly.

you and tashi share a small smirk, holding back laughter when she knocks on the door to hear a sudden ruckus.

“hi” “hey” they sing simultaneously, mouths agape like two little dogs, panting at the sight of a treat, or drooling at the ring of a bell. neither you nor tashi even have the time to greet them, patrick opening the door a little wider and beckoning you inside, coming together on the floor of the questionably coloured carpet with a single can of beer in the middle.

patrick leans back onto his hands. “so, when did you two become friends?” tashi points a finger between the two, wrapping her arms around her knees and tilting her head in curiosity. “we’ve been bunkmates since we were twelve” he answers, and art glances down at his crossed legs with a nervous smile. you nod your head, whispering a small “cute” under your breath and brushing patrick’s wrist with your fingers when taking the beer he offers, making the hairs on his arms stand upright. the beer is warm and bitter, and you pass the can to tashi after leaving a wet imprint of your lips that art would try to discreetly swipe his tongue over only moments later.

“you share girls often?” you ask and patrick’s brows quirk up, corner of his mouth tilting upwards. “this is our first time.” art says, pinkish blush spreading across his nose and the apples of his cheeks that implies his mind is drifting somewhere else. “why? are we not your type?” tashi laughs, leaning over towards art and tucking her hair behind her ears, his eyes following her closely, “aren’t you two everybody’s type?”

the boys shift in their positions, patrick lifting his hips up into the air briefly to get a little more comfortable and art pressing his hands into his knees, sharing a glance between them. all of the breath you exhale meshes into a palpable energy, and your gaze switches between art and patrick in a way they’ve already grown to love, their faces twitching with an eager awkwardness, “are you each other’s type?”

art chuckles out, “no…no.” he denies with a head shake, patrick peering over his shoulder at him silently, “no, we’ve never done anything like that.”

your’s and tashi’s eyes meet briefly, lips turning up into a smile.

“well…” patrick begins and art immediately jerks his head towards him, hoping that he wasn’t about to say the one thing he didn’t want to share, “i mean…”

“patrick, no.”

“don’t be shy, you have to tell us now” you tempt, a playful glint in the glance you give art.

patrick clears his throat, “you know, i just, taught art how to jerk off” he explains casually art’s right of passage while he holds his head in shame, painting an image of him being covered in his own ejaculation, over his stomach and legs like he had just “spilled milk” all over himself.

“that was a really adorable story” tashi hums, placing a hand on your shoulder to hoist herself up from the floor, and reaching out to help you up too. two pairs of eyes follow you around intently, admiring the tips of your fingers that swipe over various objects in their hotel room and feeling a little embarrassed about how obvious it is that they cleaned it only around 10 minutes ago. random pairs of boxers making an appearance from underneath the two single beds that they had pushed together, and an alarming amount of cigarette ash on the surface of the drawers.

tashi’s hand finds your wrist and guides you onto their bed where you take a seat patiently, criss-crossed, waiting for one of the boys to catch on and join you, while they are utterly immersed in the idea that the two of you are real and really in their bed.

silently, you usher them towards you with a tilt of the head, both of them jumping to their feet, basically leaping onto the bed so all four of you make a square, knees very slightly brushing against one another. theres a silent anticipation, tension weaving around all of you and luring your bodies closer. you take a quick look at each of their faces, their dilated pupils and irregular breaths, and move your lips closer to art’s, watching him inhale deeply like he wants to take all the air from your lungs for himself. then patrick, that selfishly attempts to lean his face closer before you can pull away.

you look towards tashi, who inches her face closer to yours, lips parted slightly and meeting in the middle for a kiss. in your peripheral vision, it’s hard not the notice the way that art and patrick are restraining themselves from punching a fist into the air out of joy, loud and shallow breaths caressing your cheeks. your mouth opens wider, leaning in deeper to consume every part of tashi’s lips in a hungry craze while her hand reaches into your hair to pull you closer. the two other men that keenly wait had slipped out of mind, still staring with a captivated stillness when you pull away from one another.

all you have to do is lean back onto your hands for art to pounce onto the side of your neck that becomes exposed, while patrick leans in to plant a kiss onto tashi’s jaw. on the surface their lips travel across the curve of your necks, heads fallen back, suctioning until they can taste the flavour of your perfume that lingers on your skin, while your hands exchange messily beneath; art’s touch feathering on your arm and reaching for tashi’s shoulder, and patricks arms intertwining with art’s to extend and touch your’s and tashi’s thighs.

patrick nuzzles his lips into divot the beneath tashi’s ear, journeying across her shoulder and onto your own in one smooth line, nearly head-butting with art when he shuffles to grace tashi with the same tender attention.

your hands scrunch into patrick’s dark hair, body involuntarily aching until you draw him closer to your face by the chin to connect with his lips. he balances himself in front of you, planting his hands at your sides to allow him to move even closer to you all while tashi hums into art’s gently mingling lips.

pulling back from patrick, you move onto art’s swollen mouth that glistens with lip gloss, tasting the remnants of tashi and yourself on them. all four of your faces coming together in the middle, so close that there is a dangerous lack of oxygen.

tongues pressing flat on top of another, swiping over bottom lips to feel every ridge and an accumulation of hot air. you become lightheaded at the different hands that grope over your figure, being pulled in by the back of your neck. there’s a contrast in the way each one of them kisses; tashi’s lips are familiar and firm, patrick’s are similar in their starved manner, and art’s yearn to take every molecule you are made of and ingest it.

tashi catches on immediately to the way that your left hand squeezes hers and pulls back to leave only art and patrick breathlessly grasping onto the others torso, noses pressing against each other at every tilt of the head and tongues slipping astray. the moment is only short, you and tashi glancing at one another, unbothered at whether they have noticed that you’re gone or secretly fulfilling a guilty hankering.

“okay.” tashi says, slapping her palms across her legs and sending a smile at the two boys. bottom lips slicked with one another’s saliva they remain frozen, only inches apart.

“goodnight, we have an early morning tomorrow.” you buzz, patrick and art separating only to let you slide past them on the bed, tashi following close behind and you wrapping your arms around her bicep absentmindedly.

neither one of them are able to make a sound, mouthing a “goodnight” that isn’t audible, admiring the way both of your curly brown hair sways behind you, walking out in the matching shorts they wonder if you ever swap.

they look at one another, then at the imprints in the floral blanket that your bodies left, scrunches where exactly you sat that they are both ready to smush their faces into. all while you and tashi stand outside of their hotel room once again, tuning in to the muffled dialogue about art’s grandmother before scurrying down the hotel hallway—hand in hand.

[heauxvibez]

Tension

warning: Smut (+18)

She currently served as a physical therapist for the WWE, her work quickly capturing the attention of the towering 6 ft 3 wrestler. From the moment their eyes met, a spark ignited. Vivid fantasies consumed his mind and he imagined himself held captive in the curves of her thick thighs, her hands helplessly pinned above her head while she begged for his touch.

Although his thoughts of her were lustful, genuine feelings lingered below. Roman's approach, however, focused on the pursuit of feeling her warm, wet walls around him.

Reclining on the table he had specifically ordered for these sessions, Roman's anticipation ate him up as he awaited her arrival. His hamstring troubles had forced him to not perform at the best of his abilities, he was looking forward to the relief her skilled hands would bring to his aching muscles.

As he mindlessly scrolled through Instagram, he was interrupted by her entrance into the room. He watched her appreciatively, taking in the sight of her pretty, black curls claw-clipped into a wild bun, much like his. Soft tendrils of hair dangled near her sideburns. She had done a quick wash and go and was proud of herself for making it look as good as it did.

She exuded a quiet confidence, her small frame enveloped by the vibrant hues of her floral scrubs.

"Thanks again for coming to my house to do this. I know today was your day off," he acknowledged, his voice portraying a hint of gratitude tinged with longing.

"No, it's fine. I didn't have anything better to do," she replied with a soft smile and a shrug. Honestly, if anyone else had asked her to do so, she would’ve immediately denied. But, in this case, every fiber of her being yearned for his presence. She found herself captivated by him, his presence easily invoking a mix of emotions that she struggled to contain.

He carefully placed his phone on the table and flipped onto his stomach. He crossed one arm over the other and laid his head comfortably on top of his arms.

Each time he felt her touch, it felt like electric shocks hummed through his veins. He often found himself battling the urge to pull her close, taken over by the need to explore every single part of her body.

"You know, just because you're here to work doesn't mean you have to wear those little flowery scrubs." he teased, a playful grin dancing on his lips.

Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and amusement, a nervous laugh slipping past her lips as she dispensed a dollop of oil into her palms, rubbing them together with practiced ease.

"I'll keep that in mind for next time," she replied, her voice laced with a hint of self-consciousness as she prepared to begin.

As her hands glided up the smooth fabric of his basketball shorts, she couldn't help but notice the subtle tension in his muscles. She was sure she was just as tense as him though. But despite her nerves, she focused intently on her task, determined to ease his discomfort.

With each skilled movement of her hands, soft groans of pain and pleasure slipped from him as she melted his knots away.

Her arousal was coursing through her veins, her touch both tender and purposeful. Just touching him was leaving her breathless.

By the time she finished working on his legs, she found herself soaked, her mind reeling from the intoxicating mix of his muted groans and the scent of his skin. She found it almost impossible to resist him.

As he rose from the table, she couldn't help but admire the newfound grace in his movements, the progress they had made together over the past weeks was tremendous. His praise washed over her like a wave, filling her with a pride and accomplishment she hadn't known before.

"Your hands are like magic," he murmured appreciatively with a small grip on her shoulder. His touch sent a shiver down her spine.

"Thanks," she replied softly, another nervous giggle bubbling up from within her as she gathered her belongings, almost running away from the tension between them.

With a final glance, she turned and made her way toward the stairs, the weight of his gaze lingering on her like a caress. As she disappeared from view, she couldn't shake the feeling that it would somehow, someway be a while before she would start heading home.

She found herself lost in the sensual melody of "Earned It" by The Weeknd as she placed the massage oils in the cabinet. She had realized she'd been over to his house a lot more often to treat him, so she figured why not keep them here to maintain his plan of care.

Glancing at her reflection in the mirror, she couldn't help but fuss over the loose tendrils of hair, each rebellious strand mocking her efforts. The bobby pins seemed to have a mind of their own, failing to secure the unruly locks in place.

With a heavy sigh, she rested her hands on the cool marble countertop, feeling the weight of frustration settle upon her shoulders. The pressure mounted as she attempted to tame her hair, her fingers fumbling with the stubborn strands.

She paused to catch her breath, dipping her head down and closing her eyes, searching for any sign of composure amidst the sexual tension. Was it truly the bobby pins that troubled her, or was she just frustrated? Frustrated with the way the Samoan man was engraved in her mind.

As she continues to fight her silent battle in front of the mirror. Roman had other plans..

Her heart skipped a beat as strong arms encircled her waist from behind, pulling her into an unexpected embrace. Keeping her eyes closed, she threw her head back, trying to figure out if this was just a figment of her imagination or reality.

"Roman, wait..." she murmured, attempting to break free from his grasp, but his hold remained firm, a silent insistence that she stay.

"Let's not pretend that you don't want me," he interjected with a sly grin, his hands venturing beneath her shirt to explore the contours of her stomach.

She finally opened her eyes, meeting his. The weight of his gaze put her in a trance.

Her breath hitched as he turned her to face him. With trembling hands, she traced a tentative path down his now bare chest, each touch eliciting a low groan of pleasure from him. Pressed against the cool surface of the sink, her senses heightened by the heady scent of his cologne and the warmth of his skin against hers.

With a mixture of nervousness and excitement, she slid his shorts down, her fingers lingering over the tantalizing curve of his hips. As she began to stroke him, his hips moved in sync with her rhythm. The soft caress of her hand had him weak-kneed.

Her pussy grew wetter with each stroke, she couldn't help but softly moan at his easy submission. With a sense of power she had never known before, she brought him to the brink of release, his ragged breaths and whispered pleas urging her on.

“Don’t stop, please,” he whimpered with his eyes locked in on her own. His hands reach behind her, placing them on the counter, knuckles almost turned white at the grip while his precum dripped down her fingers and into her palm. She literally had him in the palm of her hands melting like chocolate.

“Mmm, but you don’t want to finish like this daddy. I know you don’t..,” she moaned while slowing down her strokes. He smirked and so did she, they knew exactly how to drive each other wild.

He grabbed her hand and took her finger into his mouth tasting himself, his precum lathering his tongue. He moaned softly staring deeply into her eyes as he stuck his tongue out and danced it around her fingers.

A moaned escaped her throat as she watched. She had never seen something so sexy in her life and the fact that he was staring into her soul while doing so was enough to make her juices slowly drip past her lips and down her thighs.

He chuckled darkly as he watched her fall into a trance and turned her around to face the mirror. With a hunger, he stripped away her scrubs, revealing the full extent of her beauty in the soft glow of the bathroom light. As he used his teeth to remove her panties, she gasped at the soft drag of the lace against her smooth skin, her body thrumming as he slid off the thin piece of clothing.

With each touch, each caress, she felt herself unraveling in his arms, her desire for him reaching a fever pitch. As he rid her of her bra, she surrendered herself completely to the moment, her body trembling with pleasure as they got lost in each other.

As his hands explored her torso, she basked in his touch, each caress leaving trails of goosebumps.

When he eased himself inside her, she couldn't help but gasp at his girth. It was as if every nerve ending in her body had come alive. His size stretched her in a way that both thrilled and challenged her, almost pushing her over the edge with each thrust.

Roman paused, his movements becoming slow and deliberate. His gaze, dark with desire, bore into hers through the mirror. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, the sight of her was so fulfilling.

"Damn, girl," he murmured huskily as he began to move, his hips setting a rhythm that matched the frantic beat of her heart. His thrust sent waves of pleasure crashing over her, building the tension between them to an almost unbearable intensity.

With every touch, every stroke, he worshipped her body as if it were a precious work of art, his hands exploring every curve with a reverence that made her heart swell. And when he finally wrapped his fingers around her throat, applying just enough pressure to send her into a state of euphoria, she couldn't help but whimper.

"Say my name, baby," he growled, his voice a rough whisper.

And as she complied, her voice barely a breathless murmur, he rewarded her with a slow, sensuous kiss behind her ear that left her head spinning and her body aching for more.

"Louder," he demanded, his fingers teasing her clit with a skill that bordered on torture. And as she cried out his name,

"Daddy!" her voice echoed in the bathroom, he knew that he had finally broken through her defenses, unleashing a raw passion.

Their bodies moved together in a symphony, sounded like one too. Her pussy gushed, making the sweetest sound. The wettest sound.

His middle finger continued to move in mind-numbing circles. Her body wanted to crumble forward but he held her throat with a tight grip, a grip that kept her stable.

"Give me my nut baby, it's mine. I want it over my dick.", he whispered behind her ear, placing a gentle kiss on her shoulder while he gave her some not-so-gentle strokes.

With him hitting her g-spot and rubbing on her clit, she felt her climax approaching. Her breathes with getting shorter, her curls were sticking to her forhead, and this man was tearing her up.

And when she finally reached her peak, her release crashed over her. He followed close behind, his own climax tearing through him with a force that left him gripping onto her body for dear life.

They stood together in the quiet, their breaths echoing throughout the room. She leaned into his embrace, their bodies entwined, the lingering heat between them melting into a shared warmth as they savored the aftermath.

His lips trailed feather-light kisses along her neck, before pulling away. A soft whimper escaped her lips at the loss, a smile forming as their eyes locked silently.

With a turn, she reached for him again, her arms enveloping his neck, drawing him into an embrace. Their lips met in a deep kiss.

As they pulled away, their breaths mingling in the stillness, he tenderly brushed his thumb against her parted lips.

"How about we go another round, baby girl," he murmured, his voice low and husky. She smiled, feeling her core tingle once more.

"Mmm, I like the sound of that." she hummed in agreement, her voice tinged with anticipation as she leaned in closer to him.

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

Hope y'all liked this! Please excuse any and all mistakessss, thanks!!! lololol

Tags: @harmshake @southerngirl41 @spritelucozade @empressdede @alichesmi @kumapassion @msbigredmachine @theninthwonder @mzv11 @wrestlingprincess80

If you would like to be added to my tag list, please direct message me! Sometimes people's requests to be added get lost in my mentions and it's hard for me to find them, so please please please don't be shy!

[samkerrworshipper]

between thighs

short little thigh riding quickie smut blurb lol

warnings: thigh riding, soft smut, porn without plot lol

Quickies are kind of a rite of passage when you become a professional athlete.

You claw for every single moment in which you can find time to spend with your partner, especially when your schedules are so jam packed.

That’s how you and Alexia got yourself into this position, the two of you jammed against the wall of Alexia’s bedroom with five minutes before she has to leave for an event.

You’re still in the first few months of your relationship, still navigating how to balance work and life, having Alexia looking all dolled up to go out on her night off for the week did things to you, things that had ended up with you pushed up against the plaster with Alexia’s lips mouthing at your neck.

“Ale-Ale, not fair, you have to leave soon.”

You’re mad that you don’t get to accompany her, that you don’t get to galavant around with Alexia. Actually you’re more mad that you won’t get to fully appreciate Alexia in her current outfit. She’s in a skintight pink dress, a piece that you aren't even aware was in her closet until she walked out of the wardrobe with it clad to her body. Whilst you aren’t a big fan of events, you’d push past your social anxiety for the opportunity to ogle at Alexia for the night.

No words would describe just how wet your panties had suddenly become when Alexia waltzed out of her wardrobe, dressed to the nines and looking mouth-watering, your cunt all of a sudden soaked with the sight.

“Lex, what the hell?”

Alexia’s head cocked, a little smile in the corner of her mouth whilst she toyed with the hem of her dress. Your eyes are dragging up and down the pink mesh kind of material that sinches Alexia everywhere.

“This little thing? It’s from my clubbing days.”

You roll your eyes at the way that Alexia implies that she is beyond her partying days, your summer in Ibiza would argue that claim heavily.

“Little is definitely a way to describe it, not leaving a lot to the imagination Lex.”

Alexia blushes, her awkward self shining through as she tries to pull the hem down, all for it to stay put where it was.

You stood up from your seat on the edge of your bed, walking your way towards your spaniard.

“No need to be shy, I’m just jealous that I don’t get the opportunity to appreciate this number fully.”

You bite down on your lip, closing in on Alexia with your voice dropping a few octaves as you speak.

Alexia’s brow lifts in questioning, her hair tilting with her head as she looks you up and down. Whilst Alexia is completely done up, you are quite the opposite, your hair is scruffily mounted on top of your head in a bun, instead of a tight dress you are in a tank top and a plain pair of silk pyjama shorts.

“Jealous? You know I’m only going because it’s opening night and I promised Alba I’d be there. A night that you had an invite to.”

You roll your eyes, groaning at Alexia’s explanation.

“I might have reconsidered had you given me a sneak peek to your little outfit earlier on, are you sure you can’t be a little bit late? I’ll make it worth your while.”

Alexia stares down at you, as you try your hardest to convince her with your pout. She brings her hand up to your cheek, her fingers are long enough to stretch from one end of your jaw to the other, she traces the soft lines of your bones and face, her eyes following her fingers.

“I won’t be late, there are a couple of minutes until Mapi is supposed to be here.”

You nod your head dutifully, standing up on your tiptoes so you are able to pull Alexia into a kiss.

For a few seconds it’s soft, the two of you falling into your normal rhythm, Alexia is pushing you up against the wall of the bedroom, her hands pinning your hips to the wall and slotting her knee in between your legs whilst her tongue explored your mouth and lips.

“Ale-Ale, not fair, you have to leave soon.”

You tried your hardest to grind down on Alexia, but her two hands were big enough to keep you pinned to the wall, unmoving completely.

“You’ve got three minutes, that’s all you’re getting, you can’t touch me and you can’t mess with my outfit, you touch or mess with anything and we stop, understood?”

You nod your head, your mind now completely set on how to achieve your own release.

“Go ahead then babygirl.”

Your hands are nudging at Alexia’s almost immediately, pulling them from your hips so you can slip your shorts off of your ass, leaving you naked in front of Alexia.

There isn’t time for you to be insecure, you instead push yourself off the wall, nudging your way away from Alexia’s knee up to the muscular part of her thigh.

You leave a trail of wetness as you move up and down, your desire spreading up and down Alexia’s olive skin.

Alexia’s lips move to your neck, allowing your mouth to gape open, big deep guttural moans exiting your mouth as you grind up and down Alexia’s skin.

You’ve done it before, but every single time you are once again met with Alexia’s thigh you have to rediscover and locate the different ridges and muscles that felt best against your sensitive clit.

It’s not as good as how fingers or a toy would feel, but it’s something, and something is definitely better than nothing.

“Lex, please, more.”

Alexia’s lips continue at your neck, it’s helping with getting you close but you aren’t sure that you are going to be able to get off solely just from Alexia’s thigh.

“My thigh or nothing, two minutes bebita.”

You nod your head, it’s not the answer you wanted but the upside is that once Alexia is done murmuring against your neck her lips return to your pulsepoint, sucking down hard and undoubtedly leaving a deep red mark.

You force yourself down as hard as you can, allowing gravity to take the reins as you remove the pressure from your feet, relying on Alexia’s muscly quad and your core balance to hold you up.

It’s not the best thing you’ve felt, but with the mixed sensation of Alexia’s mouth, leg muscles and hands on your hips, her fingernails gripping into the bones resting below your skin.

You know that you are on a clock, so you hone in on the sensations, focusing on all of the different things you are feeling.

Raking your eyes up and down Alexia’s outfit of choice seems to be enough, it’s like a rush of endorphins hit your bloodstream as you look at Alexia’s body and all of the features that are being displayed to you.

Your thoughts of lust are shattered by the sound of knocking at the door, Alexia’s lips lit from your chest.

“Are you close, bebita?”

You nod your head furiously at Alexia, pressing yourself down as you nudge your clit hard against one of the particularly accentuated muscles in Alexia’s thigh.

“Quick, Maria’s here and I don’t want to keep her wanting, or walking in and seeing something that belongs to me.”

The possessiveness definitely sends you directly towards the edge, the urgency of your situationship coming to light.

“Ale, fuck, going to cum, Lex I’m coming.”

Alexia’s mouth presses itself to your own, silencing your moans whilst your body spasms against her own body, your pussy pulsing against her warm and wet skin.

As soon as your cunt has stopped spasming and your limbs are reconnected to your brain Alexia lifts you off of her, dumping you unceremoniously onto the mattress of her bed whilst she rushes into the bathroom to clean herself up.

“Drink some water bebita, you don’t have to wait up for me, I'll be back late.”

The pool between your legs is enough of a motivation to stay awake for Alexia, even if it means suffering for a couple of hours.

“I’ll be up, have fun, you look amazing Lex.”

The banging at the door has only grown louder, Alexia is tugging on her shoes aggressively whilst trying to make it out of the door. You enjoy the sight from your spot sitting on her bed, your body covered in the sheets.

“I will, text me if you need anything and no touching without my permission, wait up or sleep, I love you.”

You nod at her, snorting as Alexia clips the corner of her doorway whilst trying to make it out of the room. A string of curses leave her mouth, her body lurching forwards and out of your sight, undoubtedly towards the door to stop Maria’s insistent banging.

You think about the feeling of her cold, big, stong hands on your hips, the heat still spreading from the marks she’d sucked into your neck and the pleasure spread across the apex of your legs from Alexia’s thigh that had fit so perfectly between your own thighs.

[merakiui]

Rollo loving anon here! The Rollo piece about him falling in love with a tourist and keeping her there really got my brain thinking about *how* he would teach his lover French~

Keeping her on his lap, bound and cockwarming him as he tutored her... how he would praise her for getting things right and punish for wrong pronunciations...

And of course one she is fluent he would give her the best prize of all~ a wedding ring and a bun in the Oven that they can raise together-

Thank you for supplying Rollo content! I love the way you write him!! 🙏

(♡ˊ͈ ꒳ ˋ͈) omg this is so perfect!!!! Thank you, dearest anon, for also supplying more Rollo love!!!! He deserves to be talked about frequently!!!

Poor darling who can barely understand what Rollo's saying when he first kidnaps you. >_< you're so scared, trembling in the corner and avoiding him. Rollo is patient and genuinely wants you to be able to enjoy the wonders of his language. Additionally, it will be best if you can understand what he's trying to express to you so that you won't feel so nervous whenever he's speaking. He's a very good teacher and, despite all of your apprehensions, you manage to learn. He takes his time and helps you whenever you're struggling with pronunciation or grammar.

Of course his methods are questionable. ^^;;; keeping you pinned on his cock while you read through and translate the paragraph he's written for you. Rewarding you by letting you fuck yourself on him when you've done a good job, and when you've done poorly he edges you until you're sobbing, desperate for release. Maybe he'll give it to you...if you can ask for it properly in French. <3

Or maybe he only teaches you so much just to ensure you'll still need to rely on him. Not that you'd ever go outside on your own, but if you were to escape it may be easier to find you if you can't quite communicate with the locals. :) but that will never happen. Even so, he'll teach you the minimum for now. Just enough to allow you to talk with him.

When he knocks you up, you'll finally be able to understand all of what he's saying. Every single depraved comment, every lustful, obsessive remark, all of it translates clearly in your head. You're not sure if you feel better now that you can understand him. Perhaps it's not important now that you have other matters to focus on, namely matters involving the family you'll build with your captor.

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Bowling Pin

Debut: Bowling

Yeah, Bowling! It's the pin, from Bowling! Bowling is a game, so it is fair game for this blog. And the pins are Weird Enemies! The whole point of Bowling is to Defeat as many pins as possible. You are taught to HATE them! It's messed up. I will teach you to love them.

When anthropomorphizing a bowling pin, are you on Team Face On Tip or Team Face On Base? I think both have their merits. Tip is good for if you want to give it a humanoid impression, like it could walk up to you and shake your hand. Hug you. Even... kiss you?! Base, however, is more of a creature, which I imagine waddling around on a bunch of legs or tentacles emerging from the bottom. It would hobble up to you and ask you, "Gleep gwanorb?" Answer carefully, or it might aim its Space Ray Gun at you! In the base design, the tip of the pin could be an antenna, or it could be read as a long-haired creature that tied its hair up in a tall bun!

You know something messed up? There are more types of bowling pins! No one ever told me that! The classic one we all default to is the Ten-pin, but there are two others! We'll get to them. Biologically, a Ten-pin must abide to the specific standards set by the United States Bowling Congress, adopted by World Bowling. They MUST be 15 inches (380 mm) tall, 4.75 inches (121 mm) wide at their widest point, and weigh 3 pounds and 8 ounces (1.6 kg), give or take 2 ounces (.057 kg). Wow! These would be some unrealistic standards to live up to, if these were not chunks of carved and coated wood produced specifically to match up to these measurements.

The reason the different pins are pictured with different balls is that they are used in different variations of the game! Candlepin is pretty self-explanatory. It's shaped like a candle. But Duckpin? That looks like a smaller, cuter, more marketable Ten-pin. What's its deal?

My first thought was, it's called a Duckpin because it looks like a duck! It has the one red line like the ring around a male mallard's neck, and it is rather shaped like a duck as seen from the front, overall! How cute! In reality, they are called Duckpins because the way they scatter when hit reminded a duck hunter of a scattering duck flock. Always comes back to violence with poor little Bowling Pin. They have it so rough! They could really use a friend, who's always there to pick them up when they're down.

Name: Pinsetter

Debut: Bowling

Pinsetter is just the sort of friend a Bowling Pin needs! No matter how many times Pin is knocked down, Pinsetter will be there to pick it up and put it back in its deserving spot. If any mean ol' stray Bowling Balls try to land a cheap hit, Pinsetter's sweep bar will block them. Play fair, you bully ball! Pinsetter's job used to be done by human Pin Boys, but there can still be a human in the mix, making sure the machine is clean, and unjamming it if need be. I can only assume this beautiful relationship between human and machine is just like that of horse and rider.

The more I think about it, though, is Pinsetter really helping? It's just putting the pins back in harm's way every single time, facilitating their unending torment. It blocks incoming balls, but only briefly, allowing them to crash through the pins as soon as they're all reset. Why does it do this? Who does it work for? Who is sending all these balls?!

...It's Pinsetter.

Pinsetter does not only set the pins. It detects the score, encouraging players to hit as many pins as possible. It returns the balls, giving them the weapons to do so. Humans think they're playing a game, but Pinsetter is playing them all! It controls the whole operation, driven by nothing but pin bloodlust! Maybe Bowling Ball has been misunderstood, another tortured soul, an unwilling pawn in Pinsetter's twisted game!

Bowling Pins are beautiful creatures. They belong in the wild, or with trustworthy, knowledgeable caretakers. To bowlers, they are an Enemy. To me, they are a Friend.

[moralesmilesanhour]

looking the part

description: a college AU one-shot wherein Ekko watches you get ready for an end-of-semester celebration with some of Piltover's finest. wc: 572 tags: canon divergent-ish, ekko x black!reader a/n: wanted to try my hand at writing for Arcane characters :) the original rough draft was twice as long as what you see here lol

A calm quiet settled over your small single room.

Ekko watched idly as you attempted to wind your braids around your head in a large, elaborate bun. Still barefoot, you were half-dressed in a smart-looking white blouse (complete with a golden brooch that had moving mechanical wings), and a long black skirt that revealed your brown legs through two high slits.

“You look like Medarda,” he commented from his spot on your bed, chin resting in his palm. He had no plans tonight that did not include a long nap, and was appropriately dressed for the occasion in a white tank top and gray sweats.

The bun seemed to remain stable as you slowly removed your hands. You grinned into the dirty dorm room mirror at your triumph.

“That's the idea.”

“You want to look like a topside politician?”

The bun quickly collapsed when you whipped around to face him. He had that ‘be serious’ look on his face, a dark brow lifted in skepticism.

You crossed your arms.

“Ekko, don't start. It's just an end-of-semester party, and I'd like to look the part. That's all it is!”

Ekko put his free hand up in surrender.

“I'm just saying, I don't see the point in spending your whole night schmoozing when you’dve already got Viktor vouching for you.”

The space beside him sank a bit once you joined him on the mattress, and he sat up to accommodate. You stuck out your lips in a pout.

“Says the guy who scored an internship with Heimerdinger.”

Ekko retorted without missing a beat, “And do you see me copying his drip?”

The image of Ekko dressed head-to-toe in Piltie jewelry and double-breasted vests made you giggle.

“Never in a million years.”

“Exactly.”

“But that's not the same thing!” You pushed him by the shoulder, “I just think her hair's cute.”

He reached over to push a stray braid out of your face, the tips of his calloused fingers brushing your cheek as he did so. You watched him watch you, intently.

His clear brown eyes sparkled where the low desk light hit them, the same way they did the day you first met at one of Heimerdinger’s guest lectures. Ekko had raised his hand—the only one to do so—and asked some out-of-left-field questions about whether Hextech was especially vulnerable to ‘bad actors’ under council jurisdiction and whatnot.

Expecting him to struggle to be heard in that giant lecture hall, the ring of his voice cutting through the air, uninhibited and impolite, sent a shock through your system. It also sent the professor on a very long tangent on the dangers of the Arcane when left in the wrong hands, and you could've sworn you heard a snicker or two coming from Ekko’s direction when he had to be interrupted because class time had all but run out.

You stopped him before class ended, and awkwardly asked him if he had really bleached his hair to be that stark white color. He laughed, and invited you to lunch not long after.

“I could do you one better,” he suggested, snapping you out of your thoughts. He made a circular gesture around his head. “How ‘bout a crown?”

“Hm,” you pretended to think, though you were already moving to settle yourself in between his knees. “Do I get to borrow your earrings? Y’know, complete the look.”

A long sigh.

“Alright, but you better not lose ‘em.”

-

Hi! Thank you for making it this far. Pls feel free to reblog and leave feedback in replies/tags, and check out my pinned post if you're curious about me or other stuff I've written :) Have a nice day/night

[beansprean]

I just think she's neat

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1. Knees up of the Guide in her maid uniform from s5e6 Urgent Care: a knee-length white smock over a knee-length black dress with a turtleneck, turned-up white cuffs at the elbows, starched white collar, elbow-length black leather gloves, black tights, black heels, and a scalloped white kerchief on her head. Her hair is pulled into a low bun at the base of her neck and she is posing with a big smile at the viewer, holding a silver tray with a single ornate goblet in both hands and one foot popped up cutely behind her. 2. Full body of the Guide, hair gathered up in a large loose bun with several curly strands falling free, wearing Yvette's maid outfit from Clue (1985): a short black dress with a poofy skirt, long sleeves, and a revealing Queen Anne neckline, white ruffles decorating the bust and wrists; a small white apron tied around her waist, a black choker at her neck, fishnet stockings, black peep-toe heels with a bow, and a white doily hat pinned to her head. She is smiling coyly at the viewer, leaning forward with one leg straight and the other cocked flirtatiously, both arms held down and braced on her knee to push her breasts together. 3. Full body of the Guide, hair half-up in a small bun, wearing a party city style sexy maid costume: a short black dress with a deep v neck and poofy mutton sleeves, white ruffles at the cuffs and underneath the equally poofy miniskirt; a white apron with a frilly hem tied at the waist and behind the neck, ruffled sleeves covering her shoulders; a small ruffled cap, a tattoo black lace choker, black leather half palm gloves, white thigh high stockings with black lace trim and suspenders, and black slingback heels. The Guide winks at the viewer with a smile, posing with one leg cocked flirtatiously, one hand on her hip, and the other holding up her thumb and first two fingers. The background is mottled reddish-pink. /end ID

[pinkydevil16]

Stepfather Daemon Targaryen smuttt pleaseeee!!!!!

Stepfather Daemon Targaryen x Reader

i do apologise for how dark this got as i don't think that's exactly what you wanted!

TW 18+ dark themes, non con, loss of virginity, blood, threats of violence, manipulation TW do not read if it will upset you

Y/n tried to push down her hatred for the man marrying her mother, her eyebrow twitching as he looked past his bride to stare at Y/n. His eyes not leaving her own as he kissed her making Y/n sneer at him before hiding her face. 

She pitied her mother, feeling so inlove with the man before her and yet Y/n knew exactly what the Prince was like. A man child.

Someone who threw his toys out the pram when he didn't get his way, and that was exactly what this was. 

Him getting his toys back. 

Y/n held her dress up as she walked out the banquet hall, sick and tired of the charade and wishing to be alone in her chambers. A sword coming infront of her as she froze, the heat of his breathe against her neck as Daemon circled her until his sword was facing the ground and his smirking face was in it's place.

"Y/n." 

"Daemon." Y/n spat as she sneered at him, her fists clenching her dress tightly until her fingers ached.

"Why are you leaving the festivities? You haven't even seen the bedding ceremony." Daemon's eyes were dark, his hair cut shorter after battle as Y/n glared at him and scoffed.

"I do not wish to see such an atrocity or i fear my eyes will melt from my sockets." Y/n practically spat out the last words as she moved to the side ready to pass him but his arm was quick to slip around her waist and force her against the wall, his body caging her in. Her face full of thunder and eyes stormy as his hand pushed her hair out her eyes.

"You should not speak so callously to me or i might have to punish you." Y/n pulled her head away from his hand and grit her teeth as he relished in her hatred.

"You are a despicable animal unable capable of any emotion but jealousy. Do you honestly not have anything else in your life but the urge to torment me?" His hand was quick to grip her chin before moving down to her throat and yanking her forward, forcing her to look up and into his eyes as he grinned sinfully. 

"I could show you a true animal. Perhaps after your mother is asleep i will creep into your chambers and fuck you until you understand who you belong to." Y/n's hands grasped him, trying to dig her nails in but as she felt the warm liquid spill onto her fingertips without a single twitch she knew he would have to let her go to be free.

"I suggest your next words are ones of affection and not an attempt to scare me off." Daemon tilted his head as he squeezed his hand tighter, watching her face become red and her nails scrape desperately to get him off.

"T-that would be lovely Daemon." As she spoke his grip loosened until he barely held her throat, running his thumb up and down the column of her throat with a sweet smile.

"I expect you to be ready for me then." Daemon let her go fully as Y/n held her throat and glared at his figure walking back to the hall, tears in her eyes as she tried not to show how fearful she was. 

Y/n slammed her hands on her bed as she squeezed her eyes closed and tried not to break down, her handmaid untying the laces of her corset as Y/n opened her eyes and stared out the window.

"My lady is everything alright?" Y/n just nodded as she fisted the sheet and grunted at the corset releasing her chest and waist, taking a deep breath before standing allowing the red dress to fall to the ground. 

"I am exhausted Marie, please leave me." 

"But My Lady your hair-" 

"I will be fine." Y/n snapped back as she grabbed a hairpin pulling it from her hair as she tried to undo the intricate bun, the pin stabbing into her hand as she yelped and looked down. Fresh crimson burst from the soft skin on her palm making her eyes widen before she smirked.

Daemon smirked to himself as he wandered the halls of the grand castle, a pep in his step that would look unnatural to those who knew him. Rounding the corner his smirk become wolf-like as her door laid ajar, candle light bleeding through the doorway as he creeped closer. His hand on the heavy wood as he pushed it open, the burning flame in the corner flickering as he entered, his eyes focused instantly on his prize. 

The door closed quietly as Y/n remained where she stood, her hands on the back of the tall chair covering her night dress, one hand tightened around a hair pin whilst the other gripped the fabric. Her eyes icy and accusing as Daemon stepped closer, the candle light glowing against the red fabric that covered his torso, his hand moving quickly and pushing his white hair back.

"You look ravishing." Daemon's words made her lips curl up into a snarl as he approached, her hand on the chair keeping it between them until he was only a foot away with the chair protecting her. Daemon letting out a small laugh as he looked at the chair and back to her eyes, silently mocking her.

"Do you wish to play this game because i am not above dragging you to the ground. Or would you prefer the soft bed?" Y/n glared at him as she kept her eyes on him, his hand now carelessly pointed at her bed, the same bed she had had since a child that felt so safe and comforting to her. He wished to steal that from her, to make her feel alone and helpless. 

"Do not touch me you insipid wretch." Y/n spat the words as she watched Daemon's face drop, the smirk he held now turned into a sneer as he grabbed the chair, forcing it out her hands and shoving it across the flooring with a horrid squeak. Y/n's eyes widening as she slammed a hand against his shoulder, her other gripping the hair pin as she brought it down on his chest, panic filling her eyes as she heard it pierce the skin. 

And yet he did not move, a small grunt escaped his lips and as she looked at him she felt fear course through her veins, could feel the ice cold run down her torso and seize her heart.  "That was not very nice Y/n." His voice was too deep, too calculated and far too terrifying for Y/n to be able to do anything as his hand clamped down her own and yanked the hairpin from his chest. Squeezing her hand until she cried out and dropped the hair pin, her knuckles cracking and fingers aching as he glared down at her.

"Stop." She could feel red hot tears flow from her eyes as she begged, her other hand on his shoulder keeping her steady as she watched him squeeze her hand to the brink of breaking. His eyes sizing her up before throwing her hand from his, grabbing her throat within the second and tilting her head to meet his own.

"You are testing my patience." Daemon's words were pushed through gritted teeth as he walked Y/n backwards, her hands reaching out for anything. Daemon pushed her harshly backwards, her throat burning as she coughed and spluttered, her body landing like a log on the bed. Scrambling to move as she clawed at the bedding, barely on her knees when his hand grabbed the back of her night dress yanking her backwards as she cried out. Her hands gripping the bedding as he forced her to kneel, his front against her back as his hand travelled up and tangled in her hair. His fingertips gripping the roots making her yelp in pain and clutch his hand, her elbows pointed upwards and back arched to alleviate the pressure on her skull. 

"I went through too much trouble and killed far too many pathetic men for you to be such a brat." His voice echoed in her skull as he yanked on her hair to show his point, his lips next to her ear as he laid a kiss beneath it, a moan escaping his lips at the feel of her skin.

"Now, apologise." His words punctuated by a bite on her neck and his nails scraping her head. Y/n trembled as she squeezed her eyes closed in pain and gasped at his teeth marring her skin.

"No...leave me be." Y/n tried to find her voice but it came out hoarse with her vocal cords rumbling from the bruise forming across her skin. Daemon chuckled darkly against her neck, his other hand sliding around her waist and up her sternum, her own hand rushing to his. Her eyes open and staring at the ceiling as tears welled in her eyes, one hand gripping his own in her hair whilst the other tried to push his hand away from her breasts but she could not stop him. His hand roughly gripped her right breast, the thin fabric of her night gown, her legs shaking from holding herself up as her body went into shock. His calloused hand squeezed and pressing against her breast and she whimpered in pain, his head pressed into the crook of her neck.

"I am going to give you until the count of three to say sorry before i punish you." 

"One." His fingers twisted her nipple and his had dug into her breast, mouth open and teeth ripping at the skin of her neck as he bit down. Y/n crying out as her head was pulled back to make her stare directly above her. 

"Two." Her night dress ripped as his hand yanked down, fresh tears running down her face, dripping from her chin and onto her bare chest as he dragged his hand down further until her dress hung off her shoulders and pooled around her thighs. Her legs spread as she tried to change her position but she had no advantage, his hand making goosebumps arise on her skin as he passed her cunt and gripped her inner thigh with a bruising grasp. His mouth trailing down her arm as her hand gripped his wrist to try to pull him away. Her mouth hung open and panting as his hand pulled her head further back, her throat stretching and the skin burning with pain. 

"Last chance." His voice sounded far away as Y/n cried harder, trying to shake her head but the grip on her hair was brutal.

"Fuck you." Her voice broke as she continued crying, refusing to submit to him. Daemon smirking against her arm as he bit down, feeling his teeth pierce her skin and sweet blood to prick to the surface and onto his tongue.

"Three." His voice was muffled by her skin as his hand rushed up her thigh and two fingers thrust into her cunt, a loud scream coming from her mouth before his hand left her hair and clamped down on her lips, sobs wracking her body as he curled his fingers and brutally pulled them out. Laughing as he looked at his fingers, sitting up and putting them near her eyes as he watched her tears soak his hand.

"Look at that. I said Look!" Daemon screamed in Y/n's ears as she tried to look away, his grip on her face bordering on breaking her jaw as he pulled her face back, Y/n's eyes wide open and blown out from pure terror.

"Good girl." Y/n cried harder at his praise, despising how he spoke so softly.

"That is what determines your worth, and now. Now you are worthless, nothing but a burden to this family a hole for anyone to take." Y/n sobbed against his hand as he moved his fingers, the blood coating it moving around as he ran his thumb over his forefinger. Her hand raising and trying to push the bloodied hand away. Daemon grabbing her wrist and twisted her arm behind her back, hearing it crack as she screamed against his hand, his fingers coated in her tears and spit as she panted in pain.

"All because you don't have a cock." Her hand pressed against his as he wrapped his hand fully around her own and gripped his cock, a deep moan coming from the back of his throat as he closed his eyes. Y/n shaking as she tried to pull her hand away, feeling blood trickle from her cunt as waves of pain lapped at her body. Daemon opened his eyes with a sigh and released her hand, pressing his hand to her back as he removed the hand on her face her body falling forward as she clutched at her bedding and buried her face against it. 

"You cry an awful lot for someone who stabbed me. Did you not think i would do anything to harm you?" Daemon mocked Y/n, a chuckle coming from his chest as he watched her curl into herself, her hand shaking as she shook her head and cried into the sheets. 

"Turn on your back and show me your cunt and i might make it feel better." Y/n continued shaking her head as she shook, her whole body urging her to run away but she was stuck, unable to even speak as she heard Daemon tut. Hands gripping her hips and throwing her onto her back as she cried out, gripping her sheets as he wrestled with her. Her hands wildly flying out to try to get him away, nails scratching at anything she could get to. 

"Seems my little step-daughter enjoys it. Well then, i guess i will do as you please." His hands wrapped around her wrists and roughly shoved them onto the bed, her body contorting and wiggling to try to free herself as she thrashed against him. Daemon rolled his eyes as he pinned her down, fighting with her hands until he had them both in one and grabbed her jaw, focusing her back on him.

"My patience is running thin and very soon i will simply cut you open and take what i want anyway." Y/n whimpered as he stared down at her.

"Do you understand?" Y/n nodded as Daemon smiled at her.

"Good. Now open your legs like a good girl for me." Y/n felt tears fall from her eyes as she slowly opened her legs, Daemon dropping his eyes and groaning before meeting her eyes.

"I am going to let you go and if you so much as twitch to get away from me. I will snap your neck." Y/n nodded quickly, Daemon smirking as he removed his hand and watched her closely before letting out a sigh and leaning down to kiss her forehead. Y/n trying her hardest not to flinch away and scream for help but the grip on her wrists told her she was in no position to behave against him. Daemon sat back as he slowly loosened his grip on her wrist and laid his hands on her hips, Y/n watching him with caution as he looked away from her face dropped his eyes to her cunt. His eyes almost sparkling as he ran his hands down her hips and to her thighs, gripping them as he forced them upwards until her thighs touched her chest and stomach. Y/n whimpering in pain and closing her eyes as she felt his eyes taking in every detail of her most private and concealed area. Daemon snapped his eyes up to her.

"Hold your legs, if you let go i will break your fingers." Y/n jolted and gripped the back of her knees, her body curling in on itself to keep her grip as he grinned and ran his hands along the back of her thighs as she quivered. 

"I have imagined this for months since i saw you at the banquet. If you had of just been a good girl then i would not have to go to such lengths. But now i have you all to myself. Whenever i want." As he spoke his fingers ran through her folds, the blood collecting on his fingers as he used it to push his fingers inside her cunt, Y/n yelping in pain as he gave her a pitiful look.

"You did this to yourself. Remember that." Y/n cried harder, her eyes blood red and cheeks stained with tears as she felt his fingers go deeper, twisting and playing with her insides as he looked back at her cunt. His fingers working inside her as she cried, hands shaking and clutching onto the back of her knees for dear life whilst Daemon released his trousers. The sound of the fabric hitting the ground made Y/n sob harder, her nails digging into the back of her legs until she felt blood trickle down her fingers, Daemon staring at her as he ran his hand along his cock.

"Since you are being such a good girl i will help you." His voice was that of a parent speaking down to their toddler, condescending and mean as he leaned over and spat on her cunt. The action washing more shame over Y/n as she closed her eyes and wished for it to be over, every movement of his hand making her twitch and want to close her legs. Daemon swiped his thumb across her cunt, pushing his spit around his clit until he felt her cunt loosen enough that he could thrust his fingers in and out with ease. Y/n shook as she felt sharp bursts of pain and pleasure run up her stomach, her nipples hardening as she willed any sort of feeling to leave. She wanted to be numb, to not feel anything but hatred. Every movement of his fingers made her despise her body as she heard them moving in and out, disgust washing over her as Daemon chuckled. 

"Look at me when i take you." Her eyes opened revealing glassy blood shot eyes, no tears able to come out as she watched in horror as he lined himself up. His hands on the back of her thighs as he leaned over her, her eyes widening as he thrust in and forced his lips onto hers. Kissing her harshly, teeth gnashing together and cock splitting her open. The pain making her cry out and open her mouth, his tongue eagerly entering as he explored both her holes. Her cunt squeezing him, trying to push him out hopelessly as he pulled out and slammed back in. His balls slamming against her as his hands gripped the back of her thighs, pulling her onto his cock with every thrust. His mouth stealing her breath and holding her hostage as he savoured every inch of her body. 

"Fuck this was worth the wait." Daemon moaned against her mouth as Y/n clenched her eyes shut, his breath mingling with her own as she panted in pain. His chest rising and falling, pushing himself upwards with her thighs making her whimper in pain as it stretched her cunt further for him, his head falling back as he growled out and slammed harder into her. A squeal escaping her throat as the grip on her leg wavered, his hands pushing higher until he gripped the back of her knees. Shoving them upwards before travelling towards her ankles, throwing them over his shoulder forcing her hips to raise off the bed every time he pulled out only to be roughly forced back onto the bed with a thrust. His hands wrapped around her ankles, dragging her onto his cock as his whole body rocked with his hips, eyes closed as his moans became louder and each thrust was meaner, deeper and pointed. Y/n placed her hands over her face, sobs falling from her lips as her body jolted and jiggled with each sob. Daemon's eyes shot open as he suddenly came, a gasp escaping his mouth as he stilled, cock half inside her cunt as he barely let out a breath. His eyes wide and chest puffing in and out with each intake. His eyes head slowly dropping to look at Y/n as she stared at him in horror, his eyes moving down to her cunt as he pulled out, shock in his face before he let go of her ankles. Hands coming to his hair as he let out a loud laugh, a genuine joyous laugh, his body moving with each one and allowing his soft cock to slip from her folds. His eyes still on her cunt before he moved to look at her with a fondness that made Y/n want to throw up. 

"You...are something else." His head shook as he leaned down, Y/n flinching as she expected pain for interrupting him not understanding what had happened, a yelp of shock escaping her as his hands came and scooped his cum from her cunt. Her eyes wide and body curled in on itself as he leaned over her, his fingers lingering in front of her lips with a pointed look that made her open her mouth. His fingers thrusting in and making her gag on the salty flavour as he ran his fingers across her tongue and cheeks, watching as he pulled his fingers free, clean. 

"I was planning on cumming in your pretty little mouth but if you are so desperate to be my breeding bitch then i will only cum in your cunt." His hand came down and slapped her cunt, sending a jolt of electricity through her body before he stood straight and grinned down at her.

"Clean yourself up and do not let your mother see the bruises or i will kill her. You are mine." His trousers were pulled up quick as he walked out, leaving her alone on the bed crying. 

Y/n stared at the bed, a knife in her hand as fresh tears flowed down her face, the blood and cum mixed together making her scream out. Plunging the knife into the bed over and over until her sheets were torn to shreds, feathers and fabric destroyed and covering the floor as she collapsed in a ball. 

[kthecutest]

darlss,<33 your backkk I miss u tbh I was worried of what happened to you. and I have another req

legal line and how they tell you there needy!

so yah I don't know how to be more specific but love you darls<3

xoxo

-🤍anon

૮(˶╥︿╥)ა I'm sorry for making you worry! I've just been so busy with work I couldn't get any writing done for the past few days. Sorry for the inactivityyy (*꒦ິ꒳꒦ີ) Your requests are always so creative and amazing! Love you too! ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ Hope you'll enjoy this! ৻( •̀ ᗜ •́ ৻)

How &Team legal line tell you they’re needy˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊

•✩──────✧✩✦✩✧──────✩•

Pairing : &Team legal line x f!reader Genre : NSFW (づ ᴗ _ᴗ)づ 🥕 A/N ೃ⁀➷ MINORS DNI

K : Three words. Aggressive big puppy. He’s the loveliest boyfriend ever and treat you like a queen all the time but when he’s needy; he transitioned from a human to a wolf-in-heat, boi doesn’t know anything else than to pin you down to the nearest surface and run his face all over your body.

It’s a late afternoon, you’re on your way back to your room after having some refreshments. The house was quiet as expected; your boyfriend has promised you to not disturb you during work hours or short breaks so you were glad he was being obedient. But the thought was cut short when you were pinned straight to the hallway wall aggressively; your eyes forced open at the sudden attack and the figure towering above you. The boy staring down at you with hungry lustful eyes and without a single word starts kissing and biting at your neck – his thigh pressing right between your legs, up against your core; forcing whines and whimpers to elicit from your mouth. It seems you were too invested in the work all day, you’ve forgotten to give your poor puppy and his leaking cock some attention.

Fuma : He leans more to the relaxed and reasonable side. He doesn’t just launch at you or becomes aggressive unless he’s way too horny to even keep his brain in-tact. He would come to you like a good boy, no shame too; since he thinks wanting you at certain times of the day is pretty normal to be open about – I mean you’re his girlfriend after all.

You were sat on the couch, scrolling some videos through your tablet. You weren’t particularly busy – but you just didn’t think your boyfriend would need you glued on him; and onto his dick. Within a moment of a few thuds of footsteps in the background, you could feel equal weights on your shoulders as your turned your gaze upwards to face his eyes glossed up in desperation. Tongue entering straight in between your lips, not giving you time to process nor make a move. His huge hands trailing slowly down your neck and cupping them, squeezing oh so lightly, cutting off your airways as he ate up the muffled moans eliciting from between your pre-occupied lips.

Nicholas : We all know K and Nicho are literally the same breed – so it’s not a surprise he’s exactly just like K – except that even when he’s all worked up to the thought of you, he’ll still have his brain doing the proper thinking unlike K who is basically thinking with his dick at that point.

About 6.30 pm – you’re preparing dinner for you and your lovely boyfriend who has been awfully quiet the entire evening unlike his normal self. You just brushed it off, your stare shifting to the strawberry that had fallen off the kitchen counter. You bent down to the floor, picking it up; until you felt a figure stopping its steps right in front of you, towering above you – making you look up. Your eyes widen in shock, not at the person but at a really huge bulge, casting a shadow on your small face. Your boyfriend staring down at you with a lustful smirk, entangling his hands in your bun-ed up hair – pushing your face straight forward – to the point your nose was basically buried on his bulge.

Ej : When this baby boy gets needy, omg please the whole room’s air will just switch up so fast. As harmless as he can be (and I’m talking he isn’t aggressive like his K hyung) but he will still eventually have his heat crawl up to your mind and to your core in the sweetest whiniest ways.

You could be laid comfortably on your bed, just reading a manga, bored out of your mind; when you felt the sudden weight on your entire body from on top. Before you could turn around to rule out the person, you could feel them sniffing and nuzzling their face and hair all over your neck. Whimpers and desperate whines flowed into your ear nonstop; it wasn’t long until it started to effect you as well, drawing out soft whimpers from you, your fingers unnoticeably gripping onto whatever fabric material nearby. The touches and sounds were hot to your skin; you hid your face in the pillow, revealing more of your nape allowing your obviously in-heat boyfriend to have his way with you.

Yuma : When this kitty gets needy, he can get reallyyy aggressive. Not like in a way of pinning you down with immense strength (ahem- KNICHO) but in a way of he’ll do anything to get what he wants.

You’d be sat in front of your desk, books and scratched up notes scattered straight across the surface. The determination streak didn’t last long when you felt a set of hands in your inner thigh – making you look straight down – to see a figure underneath the desk. While in the comfort of your own home, you pretty much just stay in your panties and a bra-less shirt; so this pretty much gave direct access of your core to your horny boyfriend – who was now licking at the fabric like a needy kitty licking its bowl of milk. Your legs couldn’t help but to close from the electric shocks being sent through your body from each of his lick at your core; as you begged him to stop – the thought of studying slowly fading away from your pile of thoughts.

Jo : Getting needy is a rather rare occasion for Jo since he’s always so chill and calm – surely is never the type to be the one to insist on that kind of stuff. But there are days when he’s got to catch his own release as well and when this happens he becomes absurdly quiet but clingy at the same time.

Yells could be heard throughout the bedroom, your hands moving aggressively on the keyboard and mouse Your raged complaints towards the teammates on the other side of the call were consoled quickly when you felt your boyfriend applies all his body heat right to your side and back, sticking to you – not a single sound – yet you could tell he was unusually clingy today. You just took note of it as him feeling a little clingy but you were proven wrong when you felt two fingers enter into your panties, poking at your clothed clit; slowly the fingers gliding against your folds. You let out a gasp quickly but before you could reach out to the mute button, he’d whisper in your ear telling you to just keep playing, well that is; if you can of course.

[colourstreakgryffin]

AHHHH CAN YOU PRETTY PLEASE DO IF REQUEST ARE OPEN A ALASTOR X A SMALL READER (SHINOBU READER BASICALLY) WHERE SHE INSECURE ABOUT HER SELF SINCE SHE SMALL

Yessss. Yesss. Yessss! Alastor is like, what, 6-7ft tall?! So, he got a small girlfriend and he loves that small girlfriend! The comfort will be good since Al will be able to finally realise that his jokes are harmful and take responsibility for them! So, let’s doooooo it~!

Alastor- Beauty From Within

“My dear” After so long of just rather comforting hollow silent, the alarming, almost screeching sound of a radio dialing up and halting slightly then the familiar transatlantic accent of your secret boyfriend rings out. As if materialises from thin air, Alastor just suddenly appears on your right, comfortable, fully-dressed with dressshoes on and his microphone-cane at the ready exactly where your faced as you both laid on your Hotel room’s bed

You were cuddled up in the blankets like a little butterfly cocoon, your mind racing and requiring some peace for the day but here is your boyfriend… here to ruin that need

Immediately jolting back in shock and a natural defensive instinct from being jumpscared by your partner without a single bit of warning, a classic Alastor move, you were flung off onto the soft carpet-lathered floor of the Hotel room. Unlike with most where Alastor would just smirk through the fall and find it amusing to see whoever fell harm themselves, Alastor blinks a bit more concerned and slightly leans over to check on you

“What the fuck, Al?!” You growl out, shaken and irriated when you gather back your wits and ability to think upon recovering from the fall as you go from half-flopped on your back and on the half-cushioned floor, to on your knees with an annoyed, dishearten expression on the floor

Alastor simply and smoothly leans over the edge of the bed where you are sat and his grin grows, curious and just a breath away from asking the million dollar question on his mind, drawing your discouraged and self-conscious darken gaze up to him

“Why aren’t you down in the Lobby, darling, Tora?”

You didn’t even want to answer him with the truth but when it comes to Alastor, it feels like it’s almost impossible to genuinely lie to him without him being able to sniff it out effortlessly. Should you even try? Well… you figure Alastor will notice that you’re not telling him your reality and just make it harder for you. That’s how Alastor is, he’s protective and he jumps right to the worst conclusion if you don’t open your mouth

Okay… here goes nothing

“It’s just… I needed some time alone. I don’t want to go out there and have everybody laugh at me”

Hearing this from his beloved little girlfriend makes Alastor’s ears jolt up in surprise, eyes widening and lips parting as he remains in place leant over the bed’s bottom edge but still on top as you lean against his soft cool darkly pale cheek like it’s a pillow, closing your own eyes whilst just letting out all your self esteem problems in just a few words. Alastor can recognise something’s very wrong and he is determined to find the cause

“Laugh at you? Who would laugh at you? You’re incredible, you’re intelligent, you’re ladylike and gentle, your personality is made of sugar and cream, your little butterfly features are gorgeous. What is there to mock? I don’t see a single thing” You couldn’t help but feel offended that Alastor is pretending he doesn’t know or is generally oblivious to what the problem is and how he regularly fuels the burning fire himself. A bigger clawed hand grips the pretty purple, white and aquamarine patterned butterfly ornament hairclip pinning your pitch dark hair into a thick bun, he loves that little butterfly accessory. It makes your adorable little look even more precious

You’re a beautiful fluttery butterfly within Hell, he can’t see why anybody in the Hotel would find you a laughing stock

“Alastor… just… stop” You softly bark, nothing to be rude or uncaring or harsh to your beloved but nothing to be firm, to have him take you seriously, to have him hear you out. Alastor immediately retracts his skilled fingers away from your hairclip, leaving it to stand out against your darker features effectively before he leans back slightly, upon you pulling yourself away from your boyfriend a bit roughly and climbing back up onto the bed to gather the quilts in your palms

Alastor takes a long moment or two to speak, his voice a bit heavy in a small but noticeable tint of rejection and heartbreak. He is now actually worried, worried that you are upset over the desire of wanting to break up with him. Alastor overreacts in this relationship and jumps to conclusions so at this very moment, the Radio Demon is internally begging that the next time you speak, you don’t say ‘it’s over’ in any fashion

“Darling… what’s wrong? You know you can talk to me about anything—“ Alastor didn’t even get the chance to finish and with other people, he’d be greatly annoyed at being cut off so rudely but with you, he cares more about what’s wrong with you than a gesture of respect, such as waiting to speak, so he stays quiet and listens to you, tall deer-like ears sitting up and flicking as a sign that his full attention is on you

“I-It’s… that. You and your friends often… y-you know, ridicule my height. Call me such mean names, call me shortstack, call me a midget, say I can fit into a box, say I am a weak little butterfly. It really hurts hearing that shit from you, of all people, Al”

Alastor didn’t even realise how insecure you are over your height. You’re 4’11, shorter than Vaggie and your beloved seven foot boyfriend loves to mock you about it, right in front of you and to the other Hotel inhabitants. He finds it amusing, he finds it funny, he views it as a joke and as harmless. But he isn’t aware that calling you ‘a caterpillar’ or ‘a baked bean’ just really kills your self-confidence. Yeah, you agreed with Alastor that you’d never show off that you’re dating him but does that mean you have to sit around and listen to him ‘joke’ about your height

“Leitora… I didn’t know you felt that way about my public nicknames for you. Why didn’t you just tell me to stop? I can easily shut Angel and Niffty up from all the remarks” Alastor wonders outloud, clearly now much softer, curious, if not regretful for his mountain of mistakes that lead to your distress. You’ve never seen Alastor feel remorse over anything he had done but here is he, desiring fully that he didn’t beat you up at your most vulnerable spot. He just didn’t know, he thought it was okay since you never brought it up with him. His crimson bloody eyes shine with a glittery gleam of concern and protectiveness

“I couldn’t, Al… everybody would be suspicious if you did something for me without any deal or some bullshit, and not do the same for anybody else when they ask” Alastor can seriously understand that, you’re just doing what you promised him. Not a say word about the relationship… but now, he almost wants to just give up on this covering up the truth nonsense so he can never deliberately, even if regretful, make fun of a factor about you you cannot control

Maybe… he should just suck it up, man up and admit the truth, even if it hurts his reputation. Hurting you hurts his undead soul a lot more

“It also doesn’t help that you’re basically a giant and next to you… I feel like I could be crushed any second and you wouldn’t even notice me. Are you sure you don’t… want a woman whose normal height. A lady you can actually kiss without needing to pick up?” You wouldn’t even mind if Alastor genuinely despised your height and preferred you to be taller. Every single second of you admitting how you feel you’re not good enough for Alastor breaks his undead black emptiness for a heart. He can’t stand that you think so low of yourself, all because of a physical factor you have no control over

He’s exactly 7’3 foot tall, he’s a mighty man with mighty legs and mighty towering length on him. He’s your guardian angel… or guardian demon, since he can oversee you and everything around you easily. You do like that he’s taller but you know it must be painful for him to deal with something two to three feet shorter than him

However, Alastor actually doesn’t want a different woman, he loves you and no matter what you have, he won’t stop loving you. So, Alastor, after taking a another needed moment to absorb the way clear tears hit your pretty delicate face, takes one of your hands and kissing the back of it, his returning voice cutting off the radio effect entirely to make this even more meaningful and sincere as his sharp crimson eyes draw open when he finishes the soft kiss to your hand, held in his in the most gentlemanly way possible, and his natural voice imbued with passionate love

“My dearest. A butterfly may be small but that insect species is a beautiful symbol of grace, elegance and life, you are quite the butterfly since it represents you so well. You may be a shorter woman but the best things come in small packages”

[mojogojocasahouse]

Blushing Confessions - Suguru Geto

Suguru Geto x f!reader

When your best friend finds out there’s something you haven’t experienced, he takes it into his own hands to show you what you’ve been missing.

Words: 1.9k Content:NSFW, friends to lovers, first time oral f!receiving, unprotected p in v, oral m!receiving, multiple orgasms, overstimulation 18+ ONLY

Satoru Gojo version || SatoSugu version

It’s just past midnight when you finally spot the wreath of flowers hanging on your front door. Your ankles and calves are throbbing from the long walk home in heels, the chill in the air blocked out by a black leather jacket that didn’t belong to you.

“Thanks for walking me home,” you sigh, beginning to shrug it off to return it to its rightful owner, “and for this.”

“I’ll get it inside,” your best friend Suguru Geto chimes from behind you.

Suguru follows you in before gently pulling the thick coat from your shoulders, leaving you in the short strapless dress you’d begun the night in, your keys and purse going on the hook behind the door.

“I overheard you talking to Shoko tonight,” he confesses, your blood running cold and a shiver shooting down your spine.

There had been enough words shared between you and Shoko that night you wouldn’t want anyone to hear, most of all Suguru. A few drinks earlier in the night had your tongue loose, and the conversation had gotten much more suggestive as the laughs had flowed. You were freshly single, breaking it off with the guy you’d been with since high school, and Shoko had been eager to get all the dirt on him that she could. That, and you’d finally admitted that the crush on a “mutual friend” she always teased you about having had actually been true all along.

“Is it true?” Suguru whispers soft and deep, he’s close enough you can feel his breath hot on your ear, “That no one’s tasted you before?”

Air leaves your lungs as the backs of his fingers graze down your arm, that was certainly one of the things you hoped he hadn’t heard. In fact, you’d wanted to take the words and shove them back down your throat the moment they left your lips. Frozen in humiliation, you feel the tight skirt of your dress being pulled up to bunch at your waist, your bare ass pressing against Suguru’s linen pants as he closes any remaining space left between you, nothing but the small triangle of fabric of your thong shielding your lower half from view.

“If only you knew how long I’ve wanted this,” he purrs against your throat, “Maybe you’d have taken pity on me a long time ago.”

Through all the nights you’d thought of him as you pleasured yourself none of your fantasies had done him justice. Your body is limp when he pins you against the door, sinking down to his knees and slinging your left one over his shoulder, your sharp stiletto heel thumping against his back. He doesn’t bother slipping off the pathetic excuse of panties you’re wearing, he just nudges the thin satin fabric aside before burying his tongue in your slit. A strong forearm pressing against your stomach keeps you upright when you keel over forward, the leg you’re still standing on already quivering and threatening to give out. 

It’s just long languid strokes at first, but he’s already groaning as he swipes over your dampening skin. Your limbs are on fire, and it’s taking all your focus to concentrate on the dark eyes transfixed on every gasp and expression on your face. Every muscle is shaking, you don’t notice the way you’re slinking down to the floor until the cool wood hits your ass, and somehow Suguru has followed you down without stopping his onslaught until he’s flat on his stomach, wrapping his arms around your thighs and taking advantage of the new leverage he has at this angle.

Immediately, his lips lock around your clit, sucking on the sensitive bud until your little whines go silent. Your mouth is just hanging open now, fingers running along the sleek black hair tied back neatly in a bun. Every purse of lips and flick of his tongue is stronger than the last, and he stops to collect your slick whenever he pauses for a breath, humming in appreciation for every drop.

The top of your dress slips down as your chest heaves and body slackens against the door, and his hands immediately find your newly exposed skin. You’re lost in him. His thumbs rub circles over your hardening nipples as he palms the plush of your breasts, his mouth still greedily lapping at your cunt. It’s hard to breathe, pressure bearing down on your chest and stomach like a vice, and subconsciously you begin flicking your hips over his face. 

A wicked smile settles on his lips at the sight of you so undone, so wild and feral for him. You’re using him now, fucking yourself on his outstretched tongue until every muscle tenses, the dam breaking and sending a wave of relief through your body from the middle outwards. Air burns your lung as you gulp it in with loud, whimpering pants, your lidded eyes watching his hair fall over his shoulders as he pulls it free. 

Before you even stop twitching from the aftershocks, his mouth is once again adhering to your slick, swollen folds. You scream out in shock, your body still too sensitive, but Suguru has no intention of relenting. 

“It’s too much,” you slur, but your fingers thread in his silky locks gently, combing through them affectionately, “I can’t—“

“Try,” he purrs, kissing your overstimulated bundle of nerves, “You can take it. For me?”

That poisoned honey tone could command you to do anything. 

“So sweet,” he hums after his tongue swipes over your fluttering hole, “You’re still dripping.”

“Fuck me,” you beg, not even in control of your own thoughts anymore, “Fuck me, please.”

“Soon. But there’s something I want first.”

Pleasure won out over discomfort beneath his skilled ministrations, heat bubbling in your belly once again as his teeth grazed your inner thigh. You’re so swollen, just his middle finger feels like a stretch when he pushes up into your pussy, his chuckle over just how tight you are hot against your soaked skin. 

After a few strokes, he stuffs you with a second finger, curling them to massage along your inner wall. White-hot heat prickles your skin as a thin sheen of sweat has you glowing in the dim light, it’s an entirely different level of bliss now. This feels heavier, every drag of his thick digits can be felt all the way in the tips of your fingers, the added wet heat of his mouth shamelessly running through your slit and over his own fingers drenched in your juices making it unbearable. 

Wriggling your hips, you try to get away, but you’re keeping his head in place between your legs with an iron grip. You know your neighbors can hear your wanton cries, they’re echoing off the walls as a wildfire burns through your veins. Suguru is unrelenting, his fingers moving faster, pressing harder, scraping against the soft patch he’s pinpointed with proficient accuracy until you're gushing around him.

His teeth are bared in a greedy grin, his lower face drenched as he props himself up onto his elbows like he’s crawling from the trenches. Gripping the bunched mess of your dress pooled around your middle, he yanks you upright into his chest and crashes his lips down onto yours. 

“See? You taste simply divine,” he says, your tongue darting out to taste yourself still strongly saturating his mouth, your fingers working on the buttons of his shirt.

As you come down from your high, you enjoy the kiss you’ve waited years for. It doesn’t feel like the first time, his lips moving fluidly with yours, the dance is graceful as you wind your arms around his neck and find his hair once again while he shoves his shirt off his shoulders. Large, warm hands slip from your waist and over the soft curves of your ass to grip the backs of your thighs, your body leaving the ground as he stands. 

The blankets on your bed cushion your fall when he drops you, immediately twisting you to lay flat on your stomach and lifting your hips. 

“Gorgeous,” he sighs, smacking his palm down onto your ass cheek, the sting searing down your leg. 

“Please,” you beg, knotting your hands in your bedding as he notches at your opening, “Please, Suguru.”

“Have you ever thought of me?” he asks, teasing you with the tip, “When you were with him.”

“Yes.”

He groans at your admission, thrusting in and bottoming out in one stroke. There’s no time to adjust to the stretch of his cock splitting you open, he’s already dragging through your velvety walls in search of friction, slamming back in harder than the first. With each punctuated piston of his hips, your whines are choked from the force of his movements, your bones turning to jelly in his grip. 

“We’ll stay in tomorrow…sleep in,” Suguru plans, his voice barely audible over the smacking of his hips against your ass, “Order delivery for lunch…Then I’ll cook you dinner…”

How could he even be thinking coherently right now? You were drooling, face down on your bed, your body limp as he ruts into you with enough force to have you sliding up the sheets. 

“I’ll fuck you to sleep,” he continues as you mewl beneath him, “Soft and slow. Because I know you’ll be sore.”

You’re clenching around him at the suggestion. As his movements grow more frantic and sloppy, you’re building towards your third orgasm of the night. Exhaustion doesn’t even begin to encapsulate what you feel, the only word you can manage to babble is his name, and it only fuels him faster. 

“I won’t come without you,” he coos, curling his chest around your back, “Tell me what you need.”

With one hand, you drag his to your center, his fingers immediately beginning to rub circles over your clit once again, and with the other, you drag his left to your throat. He chuckles in your ear, pulling you upright with him, his hair falling down over your shoulder as he mouths at the hollow behind your ear. Your tits are shaking as he fucks you somehow harder and faster, his hand squeezing around your windpipe while he kisses your gasping lips. 

“Where do you want it?” he murmurs, his voice edging on desperation.

“In-inside…” you answer, and it’s the last word you utter before your air is cut off completely with his tightened grip. 

It’s nothing short of euphoria when your vision begins to blacken around the edges and stars begin to speckle across the room. You hear him moaning behind you as you tense, the feeling of his cum spurting hot and thick inside of you sending you hurtling off the precipice. When he released your throat, a hoarse cry finally chokes free, both of you collapsing down onto the bed, his arm slung over your lower back. You’re both heaving for air, burning and sweating but not caring enough about the heat to separate. 

When your eyes flutter open to the sight of his face you can’t help but smile. His eyes are closed, bangs sticking to his forehead, cheeks flushed red, and his lips are still swollen; he looks serene. Your fingers drift to push the hair from his brow, moving down to cup his cheek and there he lays his hand over yours, nuzzling against you in a silent plea to stay.

“Shall I run a bath?” he asks, his lips pressing to your palm, and you hum in agreement, “When I feel like moving then.”

Your lips find his in a slow, lazy kiss, no longer frantic and desperate like before. There's safety in it—a promise—as you both affirm it won’t be the last. 

The other two will be out soon! Thank you so much for reading, comments and reblogs=love

{{Masterlist}}

[avenging-fandoms]

after met one on one time with pedro. IMMEDIATELY. PLEASE IM BEGGING

"My god.. what time is it?" Pedro whines and you click on your phone, showing him the time. "Oh, 3am. This old fart's gotta get to bed" he grunts as he stomps up the stairs and you hold your stomach as you laugh. The stomps stop and his shoes squeak. "Babe, get up! I'm ready for bed. And if you aren't there, I can't sleep"

"That was.. that was just hilarious" you manage to get out in giggles and he chuckles with you, grabbing your bicep and helping you up and you catch your breath. You reach your bedroom and don't even bother touching the light, jumping on your bed and kicking off your heels.

"Ow! Jesus Christ" Pedro grumbles and turns on the light, rubbing his shin. "My legs are exposed, and you hit my shin with your goddamn heel" he laughs softly in between words and you hold your mouth as you laugh.

Pedro takes off his coat and drapes it on you after you moved up to the pillows. He lays next to you while laying on his bicep, dragging his fingertips over your eyebrow.

"Did you have a good time?" he asks and you nod, smiling.

"Did you flip off a camera?"

"I plead the fifth"

"You were on video! And there's pictures!" you laugh and he licks his lips. "You really know how to make every carpet yours, Pedro" you scrunch your nose and he blushes.

"You are too kind, princesa. But you.." he inhales and growls a bit as he exhales while sliding his hand down your side. "You are the most beautiful thing I have ever laid my eyes on. My sweet girl"

It was your turn to blush and you kiss his nose with a smile. His arm wraps around you and pulls you close to him, your arm under his. "I'm glad we just took pictures, but it was still so loud. I wanted to run inside"

"I know how you feel, thank God there were drinks" he huffs and you giggle, pecking his lips. Your index finger traces his features and pull his bottom lip down. He kisses you slowly while rubbing his thumb over your cheek.

"Are you ready for bed? I'm ready for bed" you throw his coat over his head and head to the bathroom. You take off your jewelry and every single clip, bobby pin and hair piece. You take off your eyelashes off and grab a makeup wipe.

Pedro enters the bathroom in his pyjamas with yours in hand and sets them on the counter. He moves your hair and unzips your dress, helping you step out of it.

He slides on your shorts - but not before. kissing your bare ass - while you scrubbed away at your face. With your face your dripping wet, Pedro slid on your shirt and you laugh. You apply your lotion and grab your toothbrush while Pedro grabs your hair brush.

Starting from the bottom, Pedro gently brushed the Met out of your hair and you brushed your teeth. He put your hair in a very messy bun and you thank him.

Pedro started to brush his teeth as you swished water. You kiss his back through his t-shirt and climb into bed. You plug your phone in and check on Twitter and Instagram as you wait for Pedro.

You were his biggest fan, retweeting pictures of only him and posting him on your story. You were his biggest cheerleader and he adored every ounce of you.

Finally, Pedro made it into bed next to you, pressing his front into your back and tucking his chin into your neck. "Are people being mean?"

"You need to stop worrying if people are being mean. You're sexy as fuck and they can suck it" you shrug and Pedro laughs, kissing your cheek over and over, your phone sliding out of your hand.

"I'm so thankful for you" Pedro whispers with his nose pressed against yours. "You're my date forever"

"And ever, Pedrito" you press your lips against and he rolls back onto his side, holding the small of your back. "I just adore you"

"Like music to my ears" he sings and you laugh, covering your eyes. "We need sleep, you can't stop laughing and I'm.. on Space Mountain I don't know"

You couldn't contain your laughter, even when Pedro tried covering your mouth. You finally calmed down and Pedro shut off the light, turning his back to you and you pushed your leg between his and arm over his waist.

"Goodnight Pedro"

"Goodnight Princessa"

[itsbeeble]

Chapter 1: Big Ego, Slightly Bigger Bank Account

SUMMARY: Choi Chanhee has a hard time trusting others, and when his mother ropes you into a favor, he makes it clear that he doesn't like you one bit. After a few tense run-ins, Chanhee realizes that he needs your help to get his...persistent ex-girlfriend off his back. The problem? You're not exactly in a forgiving mood. But for his mother's sake, you're willing to play along— just this once.

GENRE: Angst, fluff

PAIRING: Choi Chanhee x fem!reader

WC: ~8k

THE BOYZ Masterlist EWO(TYRA) Masterlist

PERM TAGLIST: @winterchimez @juyeonszn @flwoie @captain-brie

FIC TAGLIST: @sanaxo-o @from-izzy

WARNINGS: Chanhee's mom is kinda weird, for the sake of the plot his parents own a shoe store, chanhee openly mocks the reader's social status, stalker accusations, mentions of toxic and somewhat abusive relationships, swearing, Changmin playing peace keeper, chanhee is actually a total douche he is like the entire warning the warning is just CHANHEE, mentions of blood and bodily injuries but very brief

18+ MDNI AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

A/N: I'm not late I was just edging you (totally definitely wasn't at a birthday dinner)

Her eyes burning into the side of your head is all you can think about. Dark, determined eyes that haven’t left your figure since you’d stepped onto the train. You’re sure you look a mess— hair falling out of the bun you’d carefully pinned up at the crack of dawn, mascara smudged from rubbing at your eyes repeatedly, shirt untucked from your skirt and entirely unflattering on your body, feet shifting uncomfortably in the well-worn heels you’d worn practically every day since starting your job in Seoul two years ago. Maybe she’s judging you. People like to do that. 

It’s starting to bother you, however, and you can’t seem to distract yourself hard enough from how she stares almost unblinkingly. You’ve tried to distract yourself by staring out the window, putting on your headphones and blasting music, playing game after game of Sudoku on your nearly dead phone, but nothing seems to work. 

You huff, your body sagging a bit as you finally cave and look at the woman, expecting her to be where she had been for the entire twenty-minute train ride so far. 

She’s not, and you’re becoming more confused by the minute. I could’ve sworn she was right—

“Jesus fu—” you cut yourself off, slapping a hand over your mouth to muffle your yelp when the woman appears directly to your left, that same determined look in her eyes but now with a bit of…is that…is that mischief? You aren’t sure, but it’s creeping you the hell out. Heads turn to look at you, but you shoot them a look that tells them to mind their own business. Nosy bitches. “Can I help you?” 

The woman clicks her tongue. “Let me look at you.”

You blink. “Excuse me?” 

“Let me look at you,” she repeats and grabs you by the arms to turn you fully toward her.  

“What is your problem?” You try to pull away from her, but for such a small woman she is incredibly strong, holding you in place as she looks you over once, twice, three times before humming. “Hey, ma’am, I don’t know what your problem is but—”

“I have a son your age, you know,” the woman interrupts with a charming smile. “He’s very handsome, very single.”

“That’s…great?” You shuffle away from her as best you can, which is quite difficult when there are dozens of people crowded into one subway car trying to get home. 

“You’re single, aren’t you?” 

“I—I mean—”

“What am I saying,” one of her hands slaps against her forehead. You look up, praying that the next stop is yours. “Of course you are! Look at you, no ring, no light behind those eyes.” 

Your eyes bug out of your head, your jaw dropping. What the fuck? 

“I— who do you think you are?” 

Her eyes meet yours briefly, the mischief overtaking the determination. The way she looks at you is unnerving, and you can only thank god that your stop is coming up next. 

“I’m sorry, dear. I can be a bit too direct sometimes. I didn’t mean it in a bad way.” She squeezes your bicep and pulls back slightly as the doors open. You walk toward them. She follows you, and your eye twitches. “My husband always says it’s my biggest flaw.”

“There are worse flaws to have,” you dismiss, glancing around quickly to try to find a quick escape route. There is none, the crowd funnelling you and this woman toward the only exit to the station. 

“You’re correct,” the woman smiles at you, her arm looping with yours like you were her child. “You look like a hard worker. My son would like that.”

“Is that so?” 

“Mm. He’s famous, you know. You might know him!” 

“I don’t think I do,” you tell her, “I don’t keep up with media that much.”

“Ah, you like to disconnect?” She nods approvingly. Why are you letting this woman figure you out? Maybe you’ve been single for a bit too long if you’re letting a desperate mother try to set you up with her “rich, famous, handsome son who happens to be about your age.” She could be spewing total bullshit for all you know. Her son could be forty years old. She might not even have a son! “He would like that about you.”

“Do you…is there something I could help you with?” You turn to face her, stopping just outside of the train station and enduring the nasty comments you get about being in the way of everyone. “Is there a reason you keep bringing up your son?”

“My son has been horrifically single for a very long time,” the woman admits, tugging you along so you aren’t in anyones way. “His friends are all starting to date now that their company is allowing them to, but he’s been struggling. He’s very particular about the people he goes out with.”

The setting sun casts a warm glow over the two of you, and you squint when the light hits your eyes. “And that’s my problem because…” 

“I think you would be exactly what he’s looking for.” 

Oh?

You look down at her curiously. She’s looking straight ahead.

It’s another moment before you speak, the sounds of the city echoing around you but somehow they feel muffled in comparison to your conversation. 

“You don’t even know me.” 

She smiles.

“Oh, but I think my son might like to.” 

Your heel catches on a crack in the pavement, and time seems to slow as you fall. The shoe fully comes off your foot, and pain shoots through your knees when you hit the ground. You don’t yelp or cry out. You barely make a sound save for the pained whimper you can’t catch. The woman practically cries for you, dropping to her knees next to you and shifting you so you’re not pressing the fresh wounds into the ground any longer. Your tights are ripped, slowly soaking in a thin layer of blood. Your palms are covered in scratches, not bleeding but raw and stinging. 

“Shit,” you mumble, looking helplessly at the shoe that had come off your foot. The heel is completely detached, the leather torn and entirely impossible to fix at this point. “Shit.”

“Are you alright?” The woman holds your hands in her own, examining your palms and pulling a small packet of tissues out of her purse to help clean your knees a bit. “I’m so sorry, dear. I shouldn’t have distracted you—”

“It’s fine,” you tell her and take the tissue from her hand with a little smile. You’re dying inside, sure, but she doesn’t need to know that. “I promise, it’s all good. It wasn’t your fault. I was the one careless enough to not look where I was walking.” 

She frets nonetheless, scolding herself and helping you stand. A smile, oh-so faint, crosses your lips. That boy, her son, is lucky to have her. Anyone would be lucky to have her in their lives— as a mother, a daughter, a sister, wife. You don’t know much about this woman, hell you don’t know shit about this woman, but your friends have always said you were good at reading people. 

“Even still—”

“Ma’am,” you put your hand on her shoulder as both a reassurance and a stabilizer as you remove the destroyed shoes from your feet. The relief is immediate, as is the ache in your tendons from suddenly flattening your feet. “I promise you, you did nothing wrong. Thank you for helping me.” 

She smiles back at you, kissing her teeth a bit at the sight of your heels. “You better have another pair of those at home.”

Your smile becomes a grimace and she gets her answer. Her forehead creases as she frowns again. 

“How often do you wear these?” 

You almost don’t answer her, too embarrassed. “Every day.”

“These are at least…” she examines the shoes— the leather wrapping them, the heel, the soles, everything. She looks like a professional. “These are at least from the spring of two years ago. They’re practically worn down to the nub. How are you still comfortably wearing these?”

“Just don’t have the time or money to get new ones, I suppose.” You shrug your shoulders, and her frown deepens. “It’s fine. I have, like, super glue at home that I can use and get them fixed.”

The woman gasps and clutches her chest as if you kicked a damn puppy, her eyes going wide and her jaw practically hitting the sidewalk. 

“Absolutely not!” She holds the shoes close to her chest, ensuring that you won’t be able to grab them back from her. “You will never be wearing these godforsaken shoes again, not if I have anything to do with it!” 

Your shoulders slump. “Then what am I supposed to wear for work?” 

“My husband and I own a shop a few blocks from here. What time do you work tomorrow?” 

“I don’t. Fridays are my day off.” 

“Good,” she nods approvingly. “A good work week, hard worker— no, that’s not what we’re focusing on now. Come to our shop tomorrow morning, I’ll get you fitted with brand new shoes— two pairs, even. On the house.” 

It’s your turn to gasp. “I— I couldn’t ask that! That’s your shop— your income! I could never take two pairs, let alone one without paying—”

“You forget that my son— again, your age— is famous. We won’t be missing much. We mostly keep the shop open to keep ourselves busy.” The woman (you still don’t know what her name is. It’s bothering you just a bit) beams at you. “Please. Let me do this for you. I can even introduce you to Chanhee.” 

Ah, so that’s her son’s name.

You bite down on your tongue, thinking carefully about her offer. The shoes, not meeting her son. 

“Let me pay for one pair at least,” you bargain. She goes to argue, but you hold up a hand to stop her. “One pair, or none at all. Take your pick.”

A smile laced with…—is that pride? You’re almost certain it’s pride— causes her lips to curl. “One pair of free shoes, and one paid for. Sounds like a deal to me.”

The sun has set and the street light above you flickers to life. There’s a bit of a breeze now, goosebumps rising on your arms. 

“It’s dark out,” you murmur. “Let me walk you to your shop. I’m sure your husband is worried about you.”

The woman nods. “He’s been calling me since we got off the train.”

Silence for a moment, and then the air is filled with bubbles of laughter. You laugh until your cheeks hurt, until they feel as if they’ll be trapped in a permanent smile. 

“I like you Missus…” you trail off, your feet padding lightly across the ground as you walk.

“Choi. Missus Choi,” Mrs. Choi finally tells you her name, and you almost hit the ground in relief. Why wasn’t that the first thing you asked? “And soon that’ll be your name, too.”

Chanhee deemed himself to be a lucky man. Loving parents, good friends, his dreams being achieved left and right at such a young age. 

Yes, he certainly was lucky. 

Most days, that is.

Today, unfortunately, it seemed his luck had run dry and likely went down the drain like most of his coffee. Or, perhaps, it went wherever Eric brought his only good umbrella, leaving him stuck with the shitty leaking umbrella. Or it was in the nearest trash bin alongside his favorite shoes having torn the sole clean off. 

“I don’t understand how you managed to do any of that.” Changmin clicks his tongue, his head rolling back as Chanhee vents his frustrations. Only 8AM and Chanhee was already sick of this day. “The coffee I get, but the umbrella and your favorite shoes? Someone has to be out to get you, I fear.” 

“Tell me about it,” Chanhee scoffs. “Honestly, I feel like it may have been Taeha.”

Jung Taeha, his most recent…ex of sorts. Chanhee had met her outside his parents’ shop which, in hindsight, should have been a bit of a sign for him. She’d been there, almost as if she was waiting for him, and introduced herself in a manner which was most definitely rehearsed.

My name is Jung Taeha, let’s go out for coffee some time!

A smarter version of him, in some other universe, would have spotted the red flags from miles away. Alas, this universe’s Choi Chanhee was dumb as a rock on occasion. On many occasions, in fact. 

After six months of temper tantrums, his bank account being slowly chipped away, constant phone calls, and many attempts at dragging him away from work under the guise of “being lonely”, Chanhee finally snapped. Six weeks ago, he had broken things off as gently as he could. He couldn’t stand her, couldn’t stand how demanding she was. 

This isn’t working out. Get your things and leave.

She’d destroyed his apartment on her way out. She threw lamps, knocked over tables and his dresser (a fact that still stunned him), broke plates, cut holes into his Gucci shirts. Chanhee wouldn’t be shocked in the slightest if she had cut his shoes apart. 

“You sure they weren’t salvageable?” Changmin asks, his hand wrapping around the handle of the little shoe shop on the outskirts of Seoul. “Maybe, like, buy some gorilla glue or something.” Chanhee’s jaw nearly hits the ground, his hand coming to press against his chest in dismay.

“I can’t believe you would even suggest something so…so…so…” 

Chanhee stutters over his words, inevitably falling silent as he lets his eyes fall on a figure laughing with his mother. A woman, likely his age, gripping the seat she was in and tilting her head back as she laughed unabashedly. He could see the way her eyes wrinkled at the edges, a smile curling over her face and nearly reaching her ears.

The door Changmin had been holding open closes on Chanhee, forcing him to stumble forward and tripping the motion sensor above the door. A bell chimes and startles him out of the trance that had been placed on him. 

“Chanhee!” His father beams, rounding the corner and clapping him on the back. “What are you doing here so early? Or at all, really. Shouldn’t you be at the studio? And you, Changmin. Shouldn’t you be there  as well?”

Changmin rubs the back of his head sheepishly, tucking into his chest a bit. 

“My shoes broke,” Chanhee says, mourning the loss of the sleek black Dior loafers. “I need to pick up a pair to hold me off for the rest of the week at minimum.”

His father hums, turning to look at where his mother had finally risen to her feet, the woman with her rising as well. Chanhee locked eyes with her, and noted how quickly she became red in the cheeks, turning her gaze to the ground. Great, he thought and kissed the back of his teeth, another stalker trying to get to me through my parents.

“I can help you in just a few minutes, darling.” His mother promised, grinning widely as she led the girl to the counter. “Now, Y/N dear, I know we discussed you paying for one pair rather than the two, but—”

“If you try to get me to pay for anything less than what we agreed on,” you say with a teasing lift in your voice, “I’ll walk out of here with nothing at all. Alright, Mrs. Choi?” 

Chanhee quirks an eyebrow, his lip curling with disdain. So you’d hunted for his family, then?

“Dear,” his mom places a gentle hand over yours, “I can’t help it if suddenly there’s a deal on this particular brand that says you get a free pair with every pair of socks you buy.” 

What?

You seem to echo Chanhee’s thoughts, hardly able to process what was happening before his mother had rung in the socks and marked both shoes as free, taking your card and swiping it. You jump forward, practically bending over the counter to try and grab her before she can finish processing your purchase.

“Mrs. Choi!” You exclaim defiantly. “I told you that I wanted to pay!”

“And you did,” Chanhee’s dad jumps in gleefully, “just not for what you expected.”

“You both are terrible!”

“What’s going on?” Chanhee finally jumps in, having enough of this interaction. He couldn’t fathom how his parents were just…letting you use them. “Who is this…girl?” 

His lip curls, and you flinch. Good. Know who you’re messing with. Changmin jabs him in the side, shooting him a nasty look. 

“Oh, Chanhee darling, this is Y/N!” His mother chirps, grinning and ignoring the clear attitude he was flooding the building with. “I met her last night on the train home!”

“And she’s here for…?”

“Shoes, clearly.” Changmin rolls his eyes. “God, Chanhee. You’re so dense sometimes.” Your shoulders sag with relief, but Chanhee hardly gives you time to breathe. 

“Did you really have to manipulate my parents?” It goes so quiet that you could likely hear a pin drop from across the store. 

“Excuse me?” Your eyebrows furrow, your lips parting slightly with your confusion. Chanhee hates to admit it, but you play the part of the fool rather nicely.

“If you wanted to get my attention that badly,” his words are icy and Chanhee sees you curl in on yourself a bit more, “you should’ve just stalked the company. Why did you manipulate my parents into your little scheme?”

“What company?” The confusion on your face is so close to genuine that Chanhee is almost impressed. 

“Choi Chanhee,” his mother hisses, taking a small step toward her son to knock some sense into him, but you stop her with a small motion of your shaking hand. 

“Don’t act dumb,” Chanhee’s nose curls and you nearly bark out a laugh. “We both know you’re just here to score my number or something.” 

Your whole body is trembling, not just your hand. Your body is shaking like a leaf, your lip quivering to hold back words that could make this situation far more embarrassing and hurtful than it already is for you. Chanhee sees the well of tears in your eyes and how you blink rapidly, tipping your head back or to the side in order to keep them at bay. In normal circumstances, he may have offered comfort, however he was far too aggravated to bother. 

“Mrs. Choi, thank you so much for the shoes.” You finally tear your gaze away from Chanhee, pressing your hand into her arm. “I really do appreciate everything you’ve done for me.” 

“Y/N, dear,” the woman starts, but you just shake your head.

“I think your son would prefer if I left. I don’t want to overstay my welcome.” A meek smile, and you start to make your way to the door. Chanhee’s narrowed eyes are on you the whole time, his arms folded across his chest. 

“It was nice meeting you!” Changmin calls out as you push the door open, grinning and waving like you’d been the best of friends. Something about that creates an irk in Chanhee, his teeth grinding together and his lips twisted into a scowl. You don’t turn around or do anything to respond to the man, just letting the bell chime above you as the door swings open. When it shuts again, there’s a tense silence between the four. 

“Did you have to be so rude?” Chanhee’s father grunts, shifting behind the counter to organize a stack of gift cards and receipts. “She was a lovely girl.”

“She was stalking you guys!”

“She was not!” His mother snaps, shutting down any chance of him arguing with a nasty look that sends shivers down his spine. The last time he’d seen that look, she had been about to punish him for sneaking out in the middle of the night when he was fifteen years old. “If anything, I was basically stalking her.”

“Mom, what are you talking about?” He can feel a headache coming on, his head tilting back with a heavy sigh. 

“She has no idea who you are, Channie.” 

“That’s bulls— that’s not true! Otherwise, she wouldn’t—” be here is what Chanhee wants to say, but he catches himself. “She wouldn’t have been so close to you if she didn’t!”

“I befriended her last night,” Mrs. Choi folds her arms across her chest, matching the attitude her son can’t seem to put away. “I met her on the train, thought she was pretty and sweet, and maybe good for you. I befriended her so I could introduce her to you, but she ended up falling and breaking her shoes because of me. I told her to come here today so I could get her some new ones—”

“What, she couldn’t afford to get her own?” Chanhee scoffs, and a newspaper hits the counter with a loud crack. He jumps, dipping his head at the nasty look his father gives him. 

“Don’t interrupt your mother, Choi Chanhee.” Chanhee bites down on his tongue and Changmin clicks his tongue, expressing his clear disappointment in his friend. 

“That girl has worked her tail off day and night in this godforsaken city just to hold onto the job that, quite honestly, she is too qualified for. She had been wearing the shoes I broke since she first moved to Seoul, and she told me she was going to glue them back together because she couldn’t afford it. Don’t you dare say anything about what people can afford, Choi Chanhee. You should know better.” 

He can practically hear Changmin’s thoughts. He just knows that the man is laughing to himself, practically screaming oop, we got him! A small part of him feels guilty about the accusations he had senslessly thrown at you, but the larger part of him is too prideful to admit to his wrongs, forcing him to stand his ground even under the murderous look from his father and the disappointment from his mother. 

“What do you want me to do? It’s not like I can apologize now. She’s already gone and we’ll probably never see her again.”

“Well,” Mr. Choi smiles coyly, “you better hope you find that girl again. Otherwise you’re cut off from family dinners.”

“Yeah, right.” He scoffs. “Like you guys would keep me away from family. Your whole thing is that family is the most important thing.”

“Is that so?” 

“You’re joking.” Chanhee’s eyes bug out of his head when his brother blocks him from getting in the door. 

“Sorry, dude,” Dongmin shrugs, seemingly apologetic but there’s nothing but pure mischief in his eyes. “Ma wasn’t kidding when she said you were barred from dinners until you found that girl and apologized.”

“She can’t be— ugh,” Chanhee groans loudly, stomping his foot on the stone steps below him. “How the does she expect me to find this girl and get her to accept an apology from me? I was a total jerk and I definitely don’t feel bad about it.” 

Dongmin frowns. “That’s kinda shitty, Chanhee.”

“Well, it’s true! I was trying to protect my family from— from— ugh!”

“Chanhee,” Dongmin steps forward and purses his lips. “I get that your relationship with Taeha kinda ruined you and you still aren’t back from that, and we get it. We really do. But the thing is…not everyone is like that, and not everyone is out to use you and your rich boy credit card. Some people are just living their lives.”

“But I didn’t know that!”

“And that’s your problem.” Dongmin’s hands find his younger brother’s shoulders, shaking him gently as he speaks. “You just assume the worst in people now. I miss the old Chanhee who loved every stranger he met whether they knew who he was or not. Whatever,” Dongmin hesitates and scowls, “this version of Chanhee is, we don’t like him. Do whatever you have to do to fix it. Fuck, hang out with this girl once you find her. Take her on a date. Just…just fix this and yourself.”

For two days now, Chanhee had received reality check after reality check. The first had been from his father. The second from his mother. Then from his members, and now from his brother. Each one said the same. Fix your shit, we don’t want to put up with mopey bitch Chanhee anymore.

Well.

Not exactly that, but it was implied. 

So, when the door shut in Chanhee’s face, he had no choice but to stomp back to the sleek black sedan he’d parked along the side of the road in front of their house. The neighborhood they lived in was quiet enough that he didn’t have to worry about anyone hearing him mutter profanities to himself. 

The shoes Mrs. Choi had gifted you fit practically like a glove, far better than your previous pair and still more comfortable. No amount of thanks could truly show the older woman how grateful you were. You felt more at ease with the worry of your shoes finally breaking in the past. 

Unfortunately, not all of your worries can be solved with a simple gift from a funny old woman.

No, some of your problems came in the form of that woman’s son, Choi Chanhee. The knowledge that he seemed to hate you more than anything in the world had scarred you. His words were imprinted into your brain like a tattoo, replaying over and over again throughout the next week. 

Immediately after leaving the shoe shop that day, you’d googled his name and immediately felt your heart drop to your feet. She hadn’t been joking about her son being rich and famous. The more you think about it the more you wish you had never stepped foot onto that train, let alone into that shop. 

“I can help whoever is next!” 

The barista calling out from behind the register startles you out of your thoughts. There’s still about four people in front of you, each of them looking about as tired as you feel at 7:25AM. You drum your fingers against your purse, your skin making a quiet tapping noise against the cool leather. 

“And here I thought I would be getting out of an apology.” A voice behind you makes you jump. It had been so quiet in the line, most people just wanting to get their coffee and be on their way. “Guess I’m not that lucky anymore.”

You turn your body around fully, taking in the face of the one person you’d been dreading seeing again. 

Choi Chanhee stands behind you dressed in a white button-up shirt and slacks with a black mask covering most of his face. There’s no mistaking those eyes, however. They’d caught your attention while at the store— before they’d narrowed at you and filled with nothing but malice. They were soft. All of his features were soft and you can see why he’d become so popular. If his hatred wasn’t pointed at you, maybe you’d have grown to love him like his mother wanted. 

“Do I know you?” This time you truly play the fool, wanting nothing to do with him if you can help it. His eyes roll, and he tosses his head a bit to move the short strands of black hair out of his face. 

“Don’t play dumb this time. I know you know who I am now,” he scolds lightly. There’s a lightness in his voice now and you wonder if it’s because you’re in front of people who might know who he is. 

“Sorry,” you mumble, toeing at the ground like a child who was about to get punished. “I was really hoping I wouldn’t have to do this.”

“Yeah, me too.” Chanhee sighs, shifting slightly closer to you so he wouldn’t have to talk so loud. The less attention drawn to the two of you, the better, you supposed. You certainly don’t want to be in any of those damn tabloids. What a nightmare that would be to explain to your family. “Let’s get our coffee and talk somewhere else, alright?” 

“I can help whoever is next!” You step up to the register, Chanhee a step behind you, and smile at the barista. Her eyes flash with recognition when she sees the celebrity, but she doesn’t say anything. “What can I get for you?”

“Medium iced latte, please,” you murmur and reach into your purse to pull out your wallet. Chanhee clears his throat and presses his hand against your arm to lightly push you to the side. You frown at him and open your mouth to speak but he’s faster than you.

“Add a medium americano to that order please.” The barista nods, her fingers moving quickly over the buttons. Most likely a symptom of her nerves. 

“You’re—” the barista’s voice cracks and her face flushes red. You can’t help but smile. “You’re New, right? From The Boyz?” Chanhee smiles beneath his mask, the corners of his eyes wrinkling as he does a total personality flip for this girl.

You watch the brief interaction, the smile still on your face as he talks animatedly with this young girl and pays for the drinks. He pulls down his mask so he can be seen in the selfie she takes, his plush lips curling into a sweet smile that part of you wishes was aimed in your direction.

“You interact really well with your fans.” You comment, still smiling a bit as you make your way over to the opposite end of the counter. Chanhee tugs his mask back over his face, eyeing you cautiously. 

“I’m a nice person, believe it or not.”

“I’d like to believe it,” you shrug, “but I haven’t seen that side of you so I can’t really trust you.” 

Chanhee sticks his hands in his pockets, tapping his shoes against the ground. “That’s not my problem.”

Your smile drops and you turn away from him to watch as drinks slide across the counter for customers to grab. Your eyes are stinging and you manage to convince yourself, just barely, that he was joking. 

“Iced latte for Y/N!” You step forward, almost too quickly to seem normal, and grab your drink. Chanhee’s comes out a moment after your, and you don’t wait for him to get it before you’re walking out the door and into the brisk morning air of mid-October. You walk quickly, admitting to yourself that he most certainly wasn’t joking and that these stupid comments from a stupid man with a stupid fucking ego are truly starting to get to you. 

Your office is only nine blocks from this shop, a walk you can do in a bit under ten minutes. You pick up your pace when you hear Chanhee call out your name. 

Unfortunately for you, Chanhee has longer legs and is very determined. 

“What was that for?” He whines, and there’s another brief moment where you want to smile.

“What do you even want, Choi Chanhee?” You spit out the words like venom, and Chanhee flinches back. 

“I already told you I wanted to apologize.”

“So do it and go away. Better yet,” you hold up a finger. “Don’t say anything and just leave. I can tell Mrs. Choi that you apologized and then we never have to see each other again.”

Chanhee looks at you, his eyebrows knitting together in thought. “Is that what you really want?”

You take a shaking breath but don’t answer him. Seven blocks until you reach your office. You merge with the crowd of people waiting for the sidewalk light to turn green. Chanhee turns your body so you’re facing him with his hands on the sides of your arms. It feels like he’s scorching your skin, his hands warm despite the cold weather. 

“Y/N,” his voice is quiet now with the noise of the city around you. “I’m sorry for the way I spoke to you. It was inappropriate and unnecessary. I apologize.”

For a moment you stare blankly at him, something that makes him a bit nervous.

“You’re just saying that because your mom wants you to, aren’t you?” Chanhee scoffs. 

“Well, yeah, obviously. She banned me from family dinners until I apologize and she has this sixth sense about if we do what she says or not.”

You bite your tongue, nodding your head. Of course, that’s why he’s doing it. Not because he actually wants to apologize, but because he’s going to get something out of it. 

“You know what, Chanhee—” Someone slams into your back before you can say anything and you yelp. 

Ther sound of plastic cracking fills your ears, and a pair of arms wrap around you to keep you from hitting the ground. Cold liquid splashes against your shirt, brown standing out against the white fabric. Someone swears loudly. 

You pull back from Chanhee, and a knot forms in your throat. Your coffee is all over his front, soaking into the fabric and dripping the excess onto the filthy pavement below you. 

“Chanhee, I’m so—” your voice betrays you and tears well in your eyes. “Fuck, I’m sorry. Let me— I have napkins in my purse—” 

“It’s fine,” Chanhee waves a hand to stop you, but you don’t listen and continue reaching into your bag for a bundle of napkins. “Y/N, I’m telling you it’s okay. It’s just some coffee.”

“But— but it’s all over your shirt, and this was probably insanely expensive, and I just—”

“You’re right,” Chanhee interrupts you with a roll of his eyes. You look up at him, the napkins in your hand soaked with coffee and pressed against his shirt. 

“What?”

“I said you’re right,” he shrugs. “This was your fault. And this shirt was incredibly expensive.” He takes the napkins out of your hand, leaning down a bit so only you can hear him. There’s a glint in his eyes that you don’t like it. “More expensive than you could ever hope to afford.”

There’s a new found anger in your eyes now. 

“Go to hell, Chanhee.”

“The fuck happened to you?” Changmin lounges against the couch in the studio with a dumbfounded expression on his face. Chanhee just shakes his head, unbuttoning the silken fabric of his Dior shirt. The coffee had dried on his walk to the company, fifteen blocks in the opposite direction you’d been walking in, thanks to the sun and some cold air he hoped he would never have to walk in again.

“That girl from my parents’ shop spilled her coffee all over me.” 

“What girl?” Hyunjae questions, spinning slowly in another chair. 

“A couple days ago,” Changmin pushes off the couch to get closer to the conversation. “Chanhee was visiting his parents at the shop and there was this really pretty girl there talking to his mom. The girl had met his mom last night and they had talked on the train and then the girl broke her shoes because of his mom so they went to the shop and she was gifted two free pairs of shoes just because his mom felt really bad.”

“That’s sweet,” Hyunjae coos. “I love Mr. and Mrs. Choi.”

“Yeah, me too,” Changmin sighs and shakes his head. “Too bad Chanhee thought she was a stalker fan and went completely ape shit on the poor girl. She looked like she was about to cry!”

“I did not go ape shit!” Chanhee exclaims, folding his ruined shirt and tucking it into his bag. He’s pulling another shirt out, a loose black tee shirt this time, while Changmin mocks him quietly. 

“Then why did she spill coffee on your shirt?” Hyunjae counters.

“She— it was an accident,” Chanhee huffs and throws himself down on the other couch. “I went to apologize, someone bumped into her, she spilled her coffee, and then…I ruined it…again…”

“What did you do this time? Kill her dog? Kick her while she was down?” Hyunjae asks, only half-joking. 

“What?” Chanhee’s jaw drops. “Why on Earth would I do that?”

“Because apparently you’re a piece of shit to hot women now.”

“I wasn’t a piece of shit! And she was not—” Chanhee stops himself, catching the raised eyebrows of his group members. “You two are the worst.”

“What do you even have against her anyway?” Hyunjae asks. Chanhee, for once, can’t find a good answer. You weren’t a stalker, something he’d learned a bit too late. However, he can’t exactly say his pride is getting in the way of a proper apology. He also couldn’t use Taeha as an excuse, knowing that they would lecture him about that whole relationship and how he knows better now that she’s gone. He also knows that if he used nerves as excuse, they would mock him for days and claim that he was in love with you.

Which he most definitely was not.

“I swear, she’s gonna come after your ass for defamation soon enough,” Changmin rolls his eyes. “Should we send her, like, a fruit basket as an apology? With a cute little note that says something like—”

“We’re not sending her a fruit basket.” Chanhee interrupts. Changmin pouts. Hyunjae smirks. 

“You’re right,” the older man agrees. “We aren’t. You are.”

You see Chanhee again far sooner than you would’ve liked to. Two days have passed since the incident and you’d somehow managed to push it to the back of your mind. You would’ve liked to forget about him altogether, however, that clearly isn’t an option for you. You realize this when you come back from your lunch break to find him leaning against your desk scratching at the cheap material and doing anything but look up.

“Is that your boyfriend or something?” Sungchan is leaning against his cubical, gazing curiously at the handsome man. “If not, can I have him?”

You laugh quietly and Chanhee’s head snaps up to look at you. He looks absolutely horrified, his cheeks darkening the longer he looks at you. 

“I think he wants you to go over to him.” Sungchan sinks back into his chair, smirking widely at you.

“Die lonely, Sungchan.” 

He feigns hurt, waving you off. 

From Sungchan’s desk to yours is about fifteen steps. On this day, you make those steps the longest you could possibly make them without it being awkward. You take a step and stop to chat with another coworker across the room. Another step and oops! You’ve dropped your pen to the ground. Thirteen more long, agonizing steps just to avoid talking to Choi Chanhee.

What has your life become?

“What can I help you with?” 

You pretend you don’t see the giant fruit basket behind him on the ground. He pretends that it’s not there at all. 

“I, uh,” Chanhee’s hand slips off your desk and he almost goes crashing to the floor. You don’t help him, your eyes widening at the loud, sudden, disastrous motion. “I just— I was, you know, just in the area. I wanted to check—”

“Channie!” A grating voice makes the two of you cringe, and the dull sound of heels hitting the carpeted floor catches your attention. Jung Taeha.

Chanhee’s face goes white, and your frown deepens. Do they know each other?

You hope they don’t, but the way she calls his name is so sickeningly sweet that you’re positive they do. Something in you breaks a little. 

“Jung Taeha,” the words are forced out of Chanhee like someone performed the Heimlich maneuver to get food out of his throat. You bite back a laugh at the pain in his eyes, turning your gaze to the ground instead. “You…what are you doing here?”

“I work here, silly!” Taeha beams, practically shoving you to the side and grabbing the man by the shoulders to pull him in for a hug. He manages to keep her away from him, his soft eyes begging you for help. You step back, letting him handle her. You won’t risk your job for a man who already doesn’t think you can afford basic luxuries.

“Oh,” Chanhee says dumbly. “You do?”

The fakest laugh you’ve ever heard comes out of Taeha. It’s sharp, piercing your ears and making you wince. Honestly, to you, she sounds like a dying horse. 

“Did you come here to visit me? You never visit me at work anymore! I miss you, Channie…” Taeha pouts, ignoring his hands pushing her away from him and trying desperately to wrap her arms around Chanhee’s waist. 

“No—” Taeha gasps and cuts him off when she sees the fruit basket on the ground. 

“Channie! Is that for me?”

“No it—”

“You really shouldn’t have! Gosh, and at work too! I’m so—”

“It’s not for you.”

In an instant, the office goes quiet. Keyboards fall quiet, conversations stop, heads pop up from their desks. Sungchan lets out an exaggerated gasp, the only sound in the entire office. A company phone rings and someone mutes it. Taeha’s face twitches. Not just her eye, not her lip. Her whole face twitches and suddenly her eyes are meeting yours. She looks angry. Angrier than you’ve ever seen her since you began working at this godforsaken company.

“What do you mean it isn’t for me?” She questions with a scoff. Her hands plant on her hips and she takes a step back. “Who else would it be for?” 

Taeha says that while holding eye contact with you. The obvious implication is that they can’t possibly be for you. Why on Earth would someone like him get something like that for you?

“They’re for my girlfriend.”

You smile, glad to see Taeha put in her—

What?

“What?” Your mouth drops open and Chanhee looks at you with a playful smile. 

“Y/N~” he playfully whines, draping his arms over your shoulders and pulling you into him until his cheek is resting on your head. “Stop pretending we’re not together! I know that the argument was my fault but this is a bit harsh, even for you!”

 Your heart pounds, and you can feel his as well with your face pressed into him. He’s warm, you realize. His body is warm, and he smells sweet. Your brain tells you to pull away from him, but there’s a comfort in his embrace that you don’t want to leave. 

“You’re…” Taeha’s teeth are grinding together. “You’re with…Y/N? Y/n, you’re with Chanhee?”

“Well…” you reluctantly pull yourself away from Chanhee, smiling just as playfully as him. “Of course. Why else would he be here?”

“I’m just— this is unexpected!” Taeha beams at you, but there’s maliciousness behind every blink and smile. “I’ve never seen you date anyone, so I was a bit surprised about this.”

“Oh, yes,” you nod and grasp Chanhee’s hand in your own. “I was a bit surprised as well, but it’s true. He treats me well. Spoils me, really!” 

“Is that so?” Taeha’s eyebrow twitches and you fight a fit of laughter. 

“Yep!” Chanhee places a large, noisy kiss to the top of your head.

“Been together for…how long has it been now, Channie?” Maybe mocking the nickname was a bit too far but you couldn’t help it. Everyone knows that when you see an opportunity, it needs to be taken.

“About…four weeks?” He hums and Taeha physically recoils, her eyes widening and her body jerking as if she’d been shoved. “Just had our first argument. Guess that means the honeymoon phase is over.”

“That’s great for you!” Taeha comes over and takes one of your hands. “I am truly so happy for you, Y/N!” She squeezes you so tight that you’re afraid she may break your hand if she holds on any longer. You can tell she wants to say more just by looking at her. Her mouth opens a bit and she inhales as if she’s about to say something, but it just as quickly shuts again and she forces a smile onto her face. “And you, Chanhee. I’m happy for both of you.”

“Thank you, Taeha.” Chanhee beams. “That means a lot.”

“What the fuck was that?” 

Chanhee leans against your desk, watching you work. For the past fifteen minutes, he’d been standing there in silence with a dumb look on his face. You’d returned to your work, heart pounding and the encounter replaying in your head over and over again. Girlfriend. Dating. 4 weeks. Taeha knows him. 

Why did it feel like you were the only one who never knew what was going on?

Your sudden question jerks Chanhee out of his stupor. A phone rings in the cubicle next to yours and Chanhee sighs. 

“Come with me, we should talk somewhere quiet.” 

You want to say no. You want to tell him to go fuck himself or, better yet, go fuck Taeha aand leave you out of whatever stupid drama is happening. It has nothing to do with you. You just wanted him to leave you alone. 

Unfortunately, Chanhee is grabbing your arm and the stupid fruit basket that started this whole situation and is guiding you to the exit of the office to find somewhere that doesn’t have wandering eyes. His grip on your arm isn’t tight, his fingers barely brushing the sleeve of your shirt, but it’s enough to guide you along with him. 

He takes you to the parking garage, to a secluded area with few vehicles. Part of you thinks he might kill you. Part of you wishes that was the case. 

“We’re away from people now,” you pull your arm out of his grasp and scowl. “Why did you tell Taeha that we’re dating? You hate me, I don’t necessarily like you either. I thought we were done with this.”

“That was before you spilled coffee on my shirt,” Chanhee frowns. “I liked that shirt too. Now it’s stained.”

“I’ll buy you a new one if it bothers you that much.” 

Chanhee laughs quietly. “I wouldn’t make you do that. It was way too expensive for you, no offense. Besides, it isn’t that big of a deal. Just a quick trip to the laundromat and it’ll be good as new.” 

“So then…why did you come here? If it wasn’t that important, why do you keep showing up where I don’t want you to be?” You pick at a loose string on your blouse, pulling on the thread until it comes loose. Chanhee exhales heavily, folding his hands neatly behind his back. 

“Because I felt bad.”

You blink. “You…what?”

“I felt bad for how I treated you. I didn’t want to leave things off that way, you didn’t deserve that. You haven’t deserved any bit of how I’ve been treating you.” His cheeks are flushed, his eyes cast to the ground. “I’m sorry. Really, this time. I’m not just saying it to get it over with.” You laugh quietly, your lips curling up into a smile. 

“You came all the way here for that?”

“And to give you this stupid fruit basket.” He kicks it lightly, the plastic wrapping scrunching with the action. “Changmin’s idea. It’s stupid, really. But he’s embarrassed for how I’ve been treating you.”

“And Taeha thought it was for her, right?” You crouch down next to the basket, examining the contents. “Why?”

Chanhee is quiet for a few moments, and then he huffs. “I dated her for a while. It was a shit relationship. She’s the reason that I thought you had been stalking me.”

“Are you serious?” Your head snaps up so fast you fear you may have given yourself whiplash. With wide eyes, you rise back to your feet. “Chanhee, that’s illegal. Why is she not in prison?”

“Because I didn’t have any solid proof,” he says as if it’s obvious and your teeth grind together to hold back a furious remark. “And, anyway, it’s in the past. What’s done is done.”

“And you…you told her I was your girlfriend to keep her off your back?” 

“Exactly. I’m sorry.”

You scoff at the apology, “this is not something to apologize for. If anything, I’d have done the same thing. She’s fucking psycho.” Chanhee laughs and it’s a real, genuine laugh that makes your stomach churn with a warm feeling you haven’t felt before. His pretty eyes shut as he laughs, tilting his head back. It brings you to laugh as well, your hand rising to muffle the sound. 

“Does this…” Chanhee hesitates, finally looking you in the eye. “Does this mean we’re okay?”

“Oh, no definitely not.” You frown. Chanhee’s face drops. “We can share laughs, yeah, but you still have apologizing and groveling to do. I’ll help you with Taeha but that’s because I owe it to your mother for helping me when I needed it.” 

“I understand,” Chanhee murmurs, dipping his head a bit. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” you sigh and lift the fruit basket off the ground. “Thank me when Taeha finally leaves.”

© itsbeeble. do not steal, claim, or repost.