#know what I’m doing. I’m working on it. The only thing I can say in his voice as of now is just “awawawawa” and a vaguely comprehensible
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
galactic-magick · 3 days ago
Text
Maybe in Another Universe, You're Still the Man I Love: Viktor x Reader
Summary: You get sent to the same alternate timeline with Ekko and Heimerdinger, and you find out just how wonderful your life could've been.
Words: 2.1k
Author's Notes: Yeah so that finale sent me into deep grief and writing is the only way I can heal I fear. I hope you enjoy this interpretation of what Viktor could be doing in the alternate timeline.
“Are you alright, darling?”
Your vision comes into focus, though your head is still pounding. You’re extremely nauseous, feeling like your body is not your own as you become aware of the all-too-familiar voice that just spoke to you.
You’re sitting on a desk in an Academy classroom, journals and various papers surrounding you. The sun is shining through the windows, cascading gold onto the other desks and tables. It’s a peaceful, simple sight. Something that feels so wrong for precisely that reason.
“I don’t have another class for a while, you can talk to me,” Viktor says, brushing his fingers against your face. “Care to tell me why you’re looking at me like that?”
You suppose you look like you’ve seen a ghost, which isn’t so far from the truth. You must be dreaming—maybe hallucinating—anything to explain how this isn’t real.
“I…” you start, failing to find the words to say.
-
You storm into the lab, locking your eyes on the empty hexcore cocoon, then at Jayce.
“Where the fuck is he?”
“I don’t know!” Jayce fires back at you, clearly just as distraught as you are. “He woke up and told me he needed to leave me and this place. I have no idea where he went!”
“Why didn’t you follow him?” you scream, your mind spinning. Who knows how the hexcore changed him, he could literally be anywhere.
“He didn’t want me to! What don’t you understand?” Jayce slumps back into his chair, his face in his hands. As soon as he notices a tear fall down your cheek, his tone softens. “Look, I...we both know he’s been different since he started messing with the hexcore. He had told me to destroy it...but I couldn’t. And now he’s even more different. I’m so sorry,”
“Jayce…” you walk towards him. “I’m not blaming you for anything that’s happened. He’s been pushing both of us away for a long time. I guess...I just thought maybe when he woke up he’d love me again like he used to. Did he even ask about me?”
Jayce shakes his head, and your heart sinks even further.
-
“I think I’m dreaming,” you finally say, and Viktor tilts his head. “This...this isn’t real. We’re not like this, we haven’t been like this in a long time. You’re not...what are you here, a professor?”
He cups your face and kisses your forehead, “Darling, I don’t think you’ve been getting enough sleep, you’re talking nonsense,”
“No, no, no,” you jump off the desk and pace around the room. “If this isn’t a dream, then where am I? Some sort of other reality?”
“You mean to say you believe...this is not your world?” Viktor takes in your words intently.
“Well in my world, you fell out of love with me in favor of your work, and then you nearly died and got severely mutated by the hexcore. So yeah, I’d say things are pretty different,”
He raises an eyebrow, “Hex...core?”
“You don’t have that here?”
“Seemingly not,”
You sigh, perching yourself back on the desk, “You don’t believe me, do you?”
“No, I...I have theorized the possibility of alternate universes before, but I never thought I would come face to face with it in my lifetime,” he starts writing on the wall chalkboard. “I see no reason not to believe you. After all, my wife of this universe would probably not be saying these things,”
“We’re married?”
“Of course. Now tell me, what else is different in your universe?”
-
You’ve tried to find him everywhere—going all the secret places the two of you would go in the past, and asking people if they’ve seen him both topside and bottom. There’s no signs, not even a clue. He doesn’t want to be found.
You make your way back to Jayce’s lab, surprised to see Heimerdinger and a young man you don’t recognize with him. They fill you in on their concern about wild runes showing up around the city, and their plan to check on the hexgates. You’re desperate for anything to get your mind off Viktor, so you go along with them.
You’ve never been to the source of the hexgates before, and it’s even more grand than you imagined. One thing could go wrong and the entire thing would explode, but it’s precisely the potential of destruction that makes it all the more fascinating.
That is, until it becomes entirely unpredictable.
Your surroundings change at the blink of an eye—warped visuals and sounds you can’t make out. You scream for the others, but no one can hear.
-
You do your best to describe all the important events and details of your timeline, while Viktor takes notes on the chalkboard and compares what you say to his timeline. He seems particularly interested in his inventions in your timeline, and his partnership with Jayce—who’s no longer alive in his timeline.
“He died in an explosion here at the academy several years ago, it was a tragic accident that also killed a young girl from the undercity. He was a friend and a brilliant mind,” he pauses. “We...actually named our son after him.”
Your eyes widen, overwhelmed by this possibility of what could’ve been, “We have a son?”
“We do. And he’s perfect,” Viktor smiles softly. “You really are from a different time, aren’t you?”
You nod, trying to hold back tears. Why does this reality’s version of you get to be happy? Why does this Viktor get to dodge corruption and the hands of hubris?
Viktor gazes once again on the chalkboard notes, looking for patterns and causes for the differences in your timelines. Would he have reached the same fate if Jayce was still alive? What caused the Undercity to heal and thrive in his timeline but not in yours? Was this hextech you speak of really so destructive?
You are the same person he fell in love with, there’s no doubt in his mind about that, but you’ve been significantly more hurt than the Y/N he knows.
He steps close to you again, wiping the tears from your face and pulling you into him, “I’m so sorry your version of me has taken a different path.”
You sob into his chest, gripping his clothes. He runs his fingers through your hair and rubs your back, soothing you as if you’re his own.
But you’re not his. This isn’t your life.
You pull away, taking a deep breath, “As much as I want to stay here, I can’t keep taking over the consciousness of the me in this world. I need to find the others,”
“I don’t know if it’s possible for you to get back,” he says. “You say you got here through hextech, and that was never invented here.”
“We’ll find a way,” you run to the window, looking out to get a gauge of where you are. Heimerdinger might have landed somewhere here in the Academy too, and Ekko probably went back to the Undercity. But Jayce—if he’s dead in this universe—where would he be?
“Before you go,” Viktor places a hand on your shoulder. “Would you like to meet our son?”
Anxiety washes over you, your body going numb from the prospect. Would it only hurt you more to see a life that you could’ve created?
“Don’t you have more classes to teach, professor?” you smile, trying to turn your nervousness into something lighthearted.
“I’ll cancel for today. It’s about the time you usually pick him up from school anyway,”
He grabs his cane with one hand and takes your hand with the other, posting a quick note on his door as you leave.
-
You sit on a bench outside the elementary school, your heart pounding. This child is going to run out that building any minute, eager to see the mother he’s always known.
But you’re not her. You didn’t carry him, birth him, or raise him. You don’t have the same memories and experiences.
But you must pretend that you do.
You know which one he is immediately. He’s a perfect combination of yours and Viktor’s features, just like you’d imagined. His smile is contagious, and he wastes no time jumping into your arms.
“Look what I made at school today, Mommy!” he puts a crafty contraption in front of your face, a colorful collection of sticks and paper glued together.
“That’s so creative, honey, I love it,” but your attention is solely focused on him, his sweet face glowing with pride and joy.
“Quite the little inventor, aren’t you?” Viktor applauds him. “What else did you learn today?”
“We did reading and spelling. I can spell family now. F-A-M-I-L-E!”
“Close, sweetheart. There’s a ‘Y’ at the end,” you laugh,
“Are you sure about that?” he says, wincing his adorable face in thought. “Whatever. I learned how to spell brother and sister too, but I don’t have any of those. How do I get one of those?”
Viktor chuckles, “I’ll talk about it with your Mommy, how about that?”
“Okay!” he jumps up and starts walking home with the two of you.
-
What if I stayed? You wonder.
You’re playing with your son on the living room floor, with toys mostly made by Viktor himself. The house is small but cozy, a home you wish was really yours. What if you just stay in this dream reality forever?
What if you never find the others? What if there really is no way to get back?
But no, that wouldn’t be fair to the you of this reality. She’s the one who has this life, not you. Besides, Viktor and his son deserve their wife and mother back.
You hear a knock on the door, and Viktor goes to open it.
“Oh, Viktor, it is so good to see you.”
Your head swivels instantly towards the yordle in the entryway, “Heimerdinger! You found me!” you join Viktor at the door, “Where’s Ekko and Jayce?”
“I have not found Jayce as of yet, but I did find Ekko and sent him back to his timeline about a week ago. We found some hextech fragments and were able to use them to jump through time and space.”
“So...I can get home too?”
“As soon as you’re ready. We built the machine in a young girl’s lab in the Undercity,” he looks between you, then Viktor, and finally your son. His attitude of urgency dissipates as he begins to understand. “But...I could not blame you if you want to stay longer.”
Your son Jayce comes running to join you, grabbing onto your leg, “Who’s this guy, Mommy?”
“This is Professor Heimerdinger, he used to work at the Academy,” you pat his head, “Your dad used to be his assistant.”
“I’m sure you already have a brilliant mind, my boy,” Heimerdinger says. “Your parents must be proud.”
Little Jayce giggles.
“Actually, I would very much like to see this new invention you’ve built, Professor,” Viktor speaks up. “I’m now quite intrigued by the prospect of other universes.”
“I have no rule against you observing, Viktor, but I’m sure you understand I must destroy it after we all get back. It is too dangerous to be left here unsupervised,” Heimerdinger’s tone becomes more serious. “I’m sure Y/N has told you of the destruction hextech caused in our universe, especially to you.”
“Of course, Professor. I understand.”
-
You’ve never seen the Undercity look this beautiful.
It seems that the other version of you comes here often, so many people wave to you and little Jayce automatically runs off with some kids his age to play.
You meet a blue-haired young lady named Powder, who helped Heimerdinger and Ekko in their experiments. She looks so familiar to you, but you can’t place where you’ve seen her in your reality.
Heimerdinger explains how it works, and both you and Viktor listen intently. With everything up and running, you could go back this instant.
The pull to go back is strong, like an obligation to return to your rightful place in the universe. But the pull to stay is equally strong, as you gaze into your husband’s beautiful amber eyes that you want to find solace in forever.
“It’s your choice, my love,” Viktor says, as if reading your mind.
“I know I need to go back…” you exhale, tears welling in your eyes once again. “But I don’t know what I’m going back to,”
“I don’t know either,” he caresses your face, “But I do know you are strong in every universe,”
“I’m not,” you shake your head, “Not without you.”
“Don’t say that,” his thumbs smooth across your cheeks.
You nod, turning towards the device.
“Could you…could you kiss me one last time?” you ask.
Viktor wastes no time honoring your request, crashing his lips to yours with lasting passion. He pulls away only as you back into the circle, leaving you with one last affectionate whisper:
“I’m so fortunate to have met another version of you, my love.”
456 notes · View notes
starkeyslibrary · 3 days ago
Text
FALLING OUT OF FRAME | Part 3
pairing: you x drew starkey
Tumblr media
The night Drew came back from his so-called “night out with the boys”, the tension was thick in the apartment. The sound of the front door creaking open felt like a bomb going off. You had been sitting on the couch for the last hour, alternatives between staring at your phone and looking out the window, hoping that something – anything – would make the ache in your chest fade. But the pain only deepened, and as the door clicked closed behind him, your stomach churned in a mix for dread and anger.
Drew walked in, his usual confident stride slowing when he saw you sitting there. There was a slight hesitation in his step, a quiet sign that he knew something was off. His eyes immediately darted to you, a mix of concern and something else that you couldn’t quite read. But the moment he stepped further into the room, your frustration broke free.
You didn’t even give him a chance to greet you, the words spilling out before he could say a word. “You’re late,” you said, your voice flat but filled with an edge he hadn’t heard in a long time.
Drew stopped in his tracks, glancing at his watch. “I told you, it was just a night out with the guys. Nothing big.” He said, his tone light, almost too casual. But you saw right through it. His words didn’t feel genuine anymore. You had heard the excuses before, and they were getting old.
You stood up, not wanting to be so passive about it anymore. “A night out with the guys? Really? That’s what you’re going with?” The bitterness in your voice caught you off guard, but there was no going back now.
Drew looked taken aback by the sharpness in your voice. “What’s going on, y/n?” he asked, his brow furrowing. “You’ve been acting strange ever since you saw those photos.”
You narrowed your eyes at him, unable to contain the words that had been bubbling up inside for days. “Yeah, I saw the photos, Drew. You and Odessa. Out in public again. Walking around like everything is fine. What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
He opened his mouth to explain, but you didn’t give him the chance.
“No. Don’t you dare try to explain it away. I’m not stupid. I can see exactly what’s going on.” You could feel the anger rising in your chest, a mix of hurt and frustration that you couldn’t keep bottled up any longer. “You’re out with her, looking all cozy, like she’s the one you want. Not me. And I just … I don’t get it. You told me it was all fake, just for the cameras, but I can’t keep pretending that I believe you.”
Drew’s face hardened, and the disappointment in his eyes stung more than anything. He took a deep breath, clearly trying to keep his cool, but you saw the tension in his jaw, the way his hands clenched into fists.
“Y/N,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re making something out of nothing. It’s just part of the job, I swear. She’s just a co-star, and this is all for publicity. You know that. I thought you understood that.”
“Understand?” you laughed bitterly, but the sound came out more like a sob. “You think I understand? You think I’m supposed to just sit here and watch you with her while pretending like everything is fine? No, Drew. I can’t do that. I can’t keep pretending that this isn’t hurting me. That I’m not losing you, piece by piece.”
Drew stepped closer to you, his expression softening as if trying to reach you, but you were too far gone. Too far past the point of no return.
“I’m trying okay?” His voice cracked slightly, and for a moment, you thought he was being honest, but it didn’t change anything. “I’m trying to make this work, but this whole thing is a mess. I never wanted it to be like this.”
You shook your head, feeling the sting of his words like a slap across your face. “Make it work? How do you expect me to trust you when I see you out there with her, smiling like nothing’s wrong? How do you expect me to keep believing you when I know that every word you’ve said about us was just...  just a lie?”
Drew’s face darkened at your accusation, his voice rising as the frustration that had been simmering inside him for days boiled over. “I’m not lying to you, Y/N! I never wanted this to happen either, but this is the way things are right now. I’m doing what I have to do, for both of us.”
“For both of us?” you scoffed, the tears that had been building in your eyes finally breaking free. “This is for you, Drew. It’s always been for you. For your career, for your image. And I’m just supposed to sit here and be okay with it? You’re asking me to pretend like I’m okay with being second to her, to everything you’re doing for the cameras. You know what, Drew? I can’t do that anymore. I’m done pretending.”
There was a long, tense silence between you, both of you staring at each other as if trying to make sense of the chaos you had created. Drew ran a hand through his hair, his expression pained but you were beyond caring. You had tried so hard to hold on, to believe him and in what you had, but every day felt like a betrayal.
You stepped back, your voice barely a whisper. “I can’t trust you anymore, Drew. Not after everything. You’ve lied to me over and over, and I don’t even know who you are anymore. I’m not going to keep living in this lie, this lie that both of you have created for the world.”
Drew looked like he was about to say something, but instead, he just closed his eyes, the weight of your words crashing over him. He didn’t speak for a long moment, and for the first time, you realized he was just as lost as you were. But that didn’t change the fact it was too late.
Without another word, you grabbed your jacket, your heart pounding in your chest. You didn’t know where you were going, but you couldn’t stay in that apartment with him. Not like this. You needed space, you needed to breathe.
You walked the streets aimlessly, tears still wet on your cheeks as the cold air bit at your skin. Every step felt like a weight, each one dragging you further from the man you thought you knew. The city lights flickered in the distance, but they did nothing to brighten the darkness in your heart.
You didn’t even know how far you had walked until you found yourself standing in front of a quiet park by the water. The silence felt both comforting and unbearable, as if the world around you had completely disappeared. You collapsed onto a bench, hugging your arms to your chest to stave off the cold, but it did little to ease the storm inside of you.
The moments from earlier replayed in your mind – the fight, Drew’s words, your own pain – and all you could do was sit there and feel the weight of it all.
That’s when the flash of camera lights caught your attention.
At first, you didn’t react, too numb to care about the photographers who had followed you. But then, the flashes intensified. You wiped your face quickly, but it didn’t stop them. The tears you had tried to hide were now on full display, and you felt like your privacy, your pain was being exposed to the world.
“Y/N! Over here! A little smile for us!” A photographer called out, but you couldn’t. You didn’t have the strength to smile, not when everything felt so broken.
Your heart thudded in your chest as more flashes went off, capturing the raw emotion on your face – the hurt, the betrayal, the confusion. You could hear their voices, the jarring sound of camera clicks, as they shouted for you to look at the camera. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t bring yourself to perform for them. Not anymore.
You turned away, trying to escape their prying eyes, but you knew it was futile. The pictures will be everywhere tomorrow. The world would see you in this vulnerable state, and it felt like another punch to the gut.
You couldn’t stop the tears now. You couldn’t stop the feeling of being exposed, of being broke, of being so utterly alone in a world that seemed to move on without you.
A/N: please don’t hate me LOL😭
TAGLIST: @princesspeach124 @idiotussupremus @eitaababe @13tter @drewsephrry @drewstarkeyzwhore @cooper8224 @maybankslover @elyseesarchive @ietss @esquivelbianca @josephandrewstarkey @willowpains @wtfdudesblog @purplerose291
296 notes · View notes
hyukalyptus · 2 days ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
office hours — professor!soobin x gradstudent!reader
cw. chubby!reader, reader is an adult grad student, minimal age gap, clear consent, petnames (babe, baby, honey, darling, good boy), mommy kink, face sitting, unprotected penetration, creampie, cunnilingus, handjobs, ending is cheesy, "epilogue" of sorts involves christmas vibes, kissing, please lmk if i'm missing anything. NSFW/MDNI notes. i would feel irresponsible if i didn't acknowledge this is a romanticized portrayal of a professor-student relationship. while the relationship in this story has clear consent multiple times, irl relationships like this can be inappropriate and exploitative bc of the authority imbalance. you deserve a healthy, consensual relationship. prioritize ur well-being and autonomy. relationships should be built on mutual respect, equality and clear consent. this is a work of fiction and should be read as such. shoutout to @silvergyus for sending the prof!soob pic <3 wc. 11.6k
Tumblr media
“Which brings us to Le Chatelier's Principle in real-world chemical reactions,” Professor Choi says, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “This will be review for most of you, so I won’t go into too much detail.” 
Chemistry is your favorite thing in the world. It’s real-life magic. And Professor Choi sees it that way too. His olive green chinos are wrinkled from walking from his office. The sleeves of his white button-down are pushed up so he can write freely on the whiteboard while his burgundy tie sways with his scurries. 
Sparks of passion fill his eyes as he lectures. And he never disappoints with his cheesy jokes. Although you seem to be the only one that laughs at them—maybe you’re the only one that gets them. Not many students in his class are the experts in chemistry you are. You took it as a break from your intense course load and the elective credits are a nice bonus. 
Most of your professors are so old they barely know how to turn on their laptop and are so deep into their tenure they’ve given up. If you bothered showing up to their office hours, you’d be lucky to find a professor, let alone a helpful one. So you’ve become a frequent visitor in Professor Choi’s office hours, talking about advanced chemistry he can’t wait to teach but it’ll be at least five years before he can. In the meantime, he’ll settle for nerding out with you in his office for a few hours every week.
“Great class today, everyone,” he says. “Have a great weekend and don’t hesitate to visit me during my office hours with any questions!” That sentence started out as a normal speaking voice but ended up a shout over the shuffling of the desk chairs and backpacks. You’re typically the last one out, but you save your questions for his office hours tomorrow. 
-
“Hi,” you say, lightly tapping your knuckle against his office door.
Turning around in his chair, his lips form a pout in surprise at seeing you. “Were you waiting outside? Sorry that meeting ran a little long—” He shuffles to organize his desk. 
“That’s okay.” Adjusting your bag on your shoulder, he rests his hands on his thighs and looks up at you. Did he just look you up and down? Don’t be ridiculous. 
“What can I do ya for?”
“Right,” you start. “Can I…?” You ask, motioning toward the spare chair, waiting for his nod before sitting. “You know Professor Vaughn’s class?” You barely catch it, but his eyes roll. Professor Vaughn is the worst professor you’ve had. Boring, harsh, impatient. It doesn’t help he teaches one of the most complex forms of chemistry. “I’m not really getting this week’s content and was wondering if you could help me.”
“Of course.” He smiles. And it’s devastating. The sparkle in his eyes and those dimples. Craning his neck to look at your notes riddled with red question marks, he nods. As soon as he sees the title of your notes, he says, “Let’s think about this from a quantum mechanical perspective. If we assume that the π-complex is forming, we’re talking about a stabilization due to delocalization π-electrons, right?”
In what feels like no time at all, an hour has passed and the conversation has been the complete opposite of Professor Vaughn’s lectures. Questions led down rabbit holes, leading to other theorems and more questions. As he glances up at you through his glasses, there is an undeniable tingle in your stomach.
It’s not like you haven’t noticed how attractive Professor Choi is. He’s tall, lean but undeniably strong, he has the most perfect silky black hair and the prettiest brown eyes, and his pout—indescribably cute. And again—those goddamn dimples. He’s the perfect mixture of sexy, handsome, and pretty. You’d never think of doing anything with a professor, but you can’t help your mind wanders during the slower lectures. 
How long have you been staring at each other in silence? Too long probably. He clears his throat. “Well,” he says, looking at his watch. “My office hours have been over for a few—”
“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry,” you say, stumbling as you stand, attempting to gather your things as quickly as possible. But he shakes his head, trying to shrug it off. 
“That’s okay,” he says. “I, uh, I just have my emails waiting for me.”
You nod, shoving everything into your bag and heading out the door. What was that? You’re probably overreacting, you think to yourself. He’s charming because of his looks, there’s no way he’d— No. Don’t even finish that thought. 
-
"How is it that someone who scored the highest in my theoretical chemistry exam is turning basic lab work into a spectacle of incompetence?" Professor Vaughn boasts over your right shoulder. No doubt his thick eyebrows are furrowed.
As your hands tighten around the test tube, you know exactly what to do—you always do—but everything slips through your fingers in his class. 
"I’m trying to get the reaction to stabilize," you stammer, eyes darting between your hands, the chemical reagents lined up on the table, and your notebook.
Professor Vaugn’s expression hardens as he steps closer, looking down his nose at your station. "Trying is for high school sophomores. If you’re still trying, you’re behind."
Taking a deep breath, you carefully add three more drops to the mixture but the reaction goes wrong. Again. A plume of white smoke rises from the beaker, and the liquid turns an unexpected, muddy brown.
"Unbelievable," Vaughn mutters loud enough for everyone to hear. Everyone knows you’re the best student in your class. Well, everyone except Soren, who’s so jealous of your intelligence they can hardly stand it. They simply smirk. "I expected more from you."
Your heart sinks. You checked those calculations three times. Maybe it’s your shaky hands. Or the pressure of him looming over your shoulder. Or the other stuff on your mind. 
"Are you going to sit there and guess again, or would you like to double down on failure with your next attempt?" Vaughn sneers, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"I’m not guessing, Professor. I—"
"Can’t manage a basic reaction?" Vaughn interrupts with his icy voice. "I’m beginning to wonder how you even made it into this program."
"I’m perfectly capable. The solution is just—"
"Wrong. Yes, we’ve established that." Vaughn’s lips curl into a patronizing sneer. "Maybe chemistry isn’t the field for you if this is the best you can manage." That got everyone’s attention—it would be an interesting sight to see you fail. It so rarely happens. Sure, you’ve been doubted before but have always proven yourself. Today would be no different.
You take a deep breath and count to yourself, One. Two. Three. Four. Five. 
As you block out Vaughn’s piercing gaze and the weight of the other students’ eyes, you carefully remeasure the chemical, adjusting the proportions this time, methodically double-checking your work. You add the reagent once more, slowly, and watch as the solution begins to shift. 
A moment passes. The reaction stabilizes and the solution turns a clear, pale blue. 
"Finally," Vaughn mutters. You don’t even have to look at him to know he rolled his eyes. He turns to walk away but pauses. "Barely acceptable. Next time, you won’t be given the luxury of so many failures."
-
Bursting through the door upon dismissal, you can’t get to the restroom fast enough, barely making it to a stall before tears stream down your cheeks. 
“One. Two. Three. Four. Five,” you whisper to yourself. 
Sometimes, chemical reactions need to be dealt with instantly, but that’s an overwhelming amount of pressure. You give yourself five seconds before you absolutely have to deal with it. Same thing here. Cry. Count to five. Wipe your tears and move on.
But it’s difficult to move on this time. You’ve counted to five a few too many times today. But the only person you want to talk about it with is—
Professor Choi,  Are you available to meet me in Lab 270 tomorrow afternoon? I’ve been struggling with some reactions and could use some help. I’ll be there from 2:00—4:00.  If not, no worries! 
Sniffling, you hit send on your email app, shove your phone in your bag and head home. 
The next day drags on and on. Did he even get your message? Expecting an empty lab, you’re surprised to find Professor Choi waiting for you behind a laptop wearing a cute tweed jacket with suede elbow patches. His eyebrows are furrowed as his focused eyes study the computer, but they brighten at the sight of you. 
Initially surprised by your confusion, he squeezes his eyes shut and says, “I didn’t respond to your email, did I?” He’s already got the lab station set up. How long has he been waiting on you? “So, how’s Professor Vaughn’s class?” Did someone tell him about yesterday? God, you hope not. 
“Fine,” you deadpan. Shaking your head, you say, “I’m sorry…I’m just kinda stressed.” 
“I can go if you need some time by—”
“No,” you say, softening your tone. “I’d really appreciate your help.”
And he’s more than willing, letting you ask whatever you want, never interrupting or talking over you like most of the men in the program. He gives you space to explore ideas and theories, listening closely instead of answering everything for you.
And he’s so damn sexy when he’s the one doing the ranting. The way he talks with his hands, ones that are so big with fingers so long you wish he would wrap around your—
“Shut up.”
“Excuse me?” He asks.
Oh shit, did you say that out loud? What a fucking nightmare. “Uh, sorry, just…talking to myself. Too many thoughts racing around the ole dome.”
A slight pout forms on his lips as he continues his rant. Now, the only thing you can think of are his lips wrapped around your—
“Ah!” Your hand slips toward the Bunsen burner and, great, now you’ve got a nice burn on your thumb. 
“Oh gosh, are you okay?” He stands quickly. “Let me see.” His fingers graze your palm, igniting a fiercer burn than the actual flame just did. “Run it under cold water, okay?”
In the meantime, he straightens up your station before meeting you at the sink. “Is something wrong?” His words make you jump. “You seem distracted.” 
That’s all it takes. The floodgates open. You rant about the sexist piece of shit Professor Vaughn and his power moves to intimidate you when he knows you’re the best student in the program. About how embarrassed you were in lab yesterday. Last semester when you raised your hand to correct an equation on the board and he gave you a firm talking to about respect after class. 
He watches you carefully, handing over a towel for your hands as you take a steadying breath, fighting back tears.
“Did I ever tell you why I started studying chemistry?” he asks. You sniffle, shaking your head. “My grandfather. He was a baker.” His voice softens, and you look up to find his eyes full of kindness. “Every Saturday, he’d make me work in his bakery. I didn’t mind—it felt like magic, you know? But really, it’s science. It’s all precision, measurements, timing.” 
A smile tugs at his lips. “Once, I tried baking a cake for my mom’s birthday, followed his recipe exactly. Measured the flour, the sugar, the cocoa. When I pulled it out of the oven, it was hard. Flat. I was sure he’d be disappointed, calling it a waste of time and ingredients. I was terrified. But he looked at it, smiled, and told me to try again the next day. When I asked why it didn’t work, he said I needed to ‘feel my way through it.’”
You sit there, the sting from your burn now fading, but your heart’s still aching, wanting something from him—a hug, a kiss, even just a pat on the shoulder.
“If I’d gotten it right the first time, I’d never know what overmixed batter looks like. Or that I like more cocoa than he did. Or that you should coat berries in flour.” His smile creeps up to his eyes. “Seeing how failure could make you better—it made me curious. I wanted to understand why some things worked and others didn’t, why I needed to feel my way through it, to get into the details.” He makes eye contact with you again. “That’s why I went into chemistry. Baking taught me the magic is in the little things—if you’re willing to screw up and keep going.”
Nodding, you smile back. His words hang in the air for a moment, like they’re meant to settle, but something’s missing. 
“All I’m saying is, its okay to fuck things up, okay?” he says, his candidness drawing a chuckle from you. “How else would you learn?”
-
The world’s drained of color—only hazy shades of grey and beige are left. Your palms press against a cold marble countertop with the faint sound of running water echoing in the distance. The reflection of the mirror looks like you, but not quite. The woman in the mirror has her lips painted a dark, sultry brown, a shade you’d never choose. And the outfit is far too dressy for a lecture. Shadows fall where there shouldn’t be any. 
The hallways are unfamiliar, yet you know it's the same building you visit almost every day. It's blurry, like you’re walking through a memory that isn’t yours. 
You look down at the saddle shoes on your feet clicking against the tile floor, unnervingly filling the emptiness. It feels like someone else is controlling your body but you don’t question it. You can’t. Your hand raises, knuckles brushing a wooden door before it creaks open on its own. 
On the other side of the door, Professor Choi faces a green chalkboard. Has that always been in his office? Hurriedly scribbling down equations, he glances between the board and the notebook in his hand. When he looks over his shoulder at you, his eyes soften and a slow smile spreads across his face. “Come in,” he says gently, setting his notebook aside. His voice wraps around you, making the room feel smaller, closer. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
Your spine tingles. “I know,” you reply, but the words sound hollow, like you’re speaking from somewhere else. 
“Here,” he suggests, holding a piece of chalk out to you. The way he gestures toward the board is magnetic. As you take it from his hand, your fingers brush his. “What do you think of this?” An unfinished equation waits to be solved. His presence looms behind you, close but not quite touching as you reach up to solve it. Your heart pounds, every stroke of the chalk on the board heavier than it should.
“Impressive,” he murmurs, his voice low, rough around the edges. You turn to face him and he’s closer than expected, his warmth radiating against your skin. The air is thick with something unspoken. You step closer, tentative at first, then quicker, more certain. Your lips almost brush his, but he pulls back, his breath catching.
He looks down, your name a whisper on his lips, soft and pained. “I—” His eyes flicker up to meet yours, then fall back down like the weight of your gaze is too much.
“What?” You ask, your voice barely more than a breath. Your eyes dart between his, lingering on his tempting mouth. He leans in again with desire in his eyes. He wants to kiss you. You can feel it. And for a moment you think he might.
But he pulls away, his forehead nearly resting against yours. “I don’t think we should be doing this,” he says, his voice strained, as if saying the words is physically painful for him.
“Why not?” The question slips from your lips before you can stop it, frustration and longing lacing your tone.
His hands flex at his sides, like he’s fighting the urge to touch you. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to, or—”
“Why would I feel like that?” you interrupt, your voice impatient. Your heart races, pounding in your ears, drowning out reason.
“I’m your professor,” he breathes out like it’s a curse. His words only fan the flames of the tension building between you. There’s nothing wrong with that, you think to yourself. It’s not like you’re fresh out of high school—you’re a grad student, close to starting the same PhD he earned barely three years ago. He’s no more than five years older.
“I don’t care,” you insist, stepping even closer, your lips a breath away from his. “I want you to kiss me.”
His eyes darken, his resolve faltering as his gaze drops to your lips. “It’s a mistake,” he whispers, but his voice trembles with indecision, trying to convince himself more than you.
“Make the mistake,” you urge, your voice soft but sure. Your hand reaches for his tie, tugging as light as you can just to bring him that much closer. “You said it yourself, it’s okay to fuck things up.”
There’s a beat of silence, so thick it feels as though the room itself is holding its breath, waiting. And in that moment, the space between you seems to collapse, the weight of everything unsaid pulling you closer. 
The millisecond before your lips touch, you breathe awake. 
You bolt straight up, feeling around your soft bed sheets, breathless as your heart pounds from the vividness of it all. For a moment, you linger in the feeling, brushing your fingers over your lips, feeling the warmth of the almost kiss. But reality sinks in and your stomach drops.
Reaching for your phone, you check the time. Great, it’s almost time for his class. But there’s no hazy world to hide in. Skipping class might be an option but an exam reminder drags you out of bed. 
Trudging across campus, your stomach sinks lower with each step. How can you look him in the eye? Dropping your bag to the floor with a thud, you hang your head low. Let’s just get through this exam and get outta here. 
“How’s your hand?” Professor Choi’s voice shakes you out of your thoughts. “Sorry,” he chuckles, holding his hands up. “Didn’t mean to scare ya.” Looking at you like you’re the cutest puppy he’s ever seen, you can’t bring yourself to speak, but you hold out your hand. The second his fingertips touch yours, you flinch and jerk it back. 
“Um—” you start. “Better, thanks.” Turning away from him, you distract yourself with a random notebook from your bag. 
“...You okay? You shouldn’t be nervous about the exam.” When you look up, you’re met with eyes that appear…hurt? 
“No, it’s not that.” That’s not a good answer. “Just…” What would you even say? I had an incredibly vivid—and delicious—dream about you last night and now I need to know how your lips feel in real life? “Cramps.”
“Ah.” He nods and leaves you alone, awkwardly walking to the front of the class to make some announcements and general good wishes before the exam. With your fist pressed to your chin, you refuse to look up, hanging your head low even as he slides you your copy. 
There’s a bright green post-it stuck to it with a note, It’s okay to fuck it up! Your heart races as your eyes dart around searching for him. When you find him, he gives you a soft smile. You return the smile but rush to unstick it before anyone sees, storing it in your notebook for safe keeping. 
-
As you return to your apartment, the post-it stares back at you like you’re the guiltiest son-of-a-bitch in the world. It’s practically calling you a whore. And you can hardly take it anymore. You can’t bring yourself to face him for class a few days later—although skipping feels like a cardinal sin. Soon enough, though, your email dings. 
From: Choi Soobin, PhD I noticed you were absent from class today. I hope everything’s okay. The lecture notes are attached for your reference. Feel free to stop by my office hours with any questions. Professor Choi
Did your heart just flutter? Why are you walking toward his office? When you knock on the door, he stands—more like stumbles—to greet you, “Hi!” 
“Hi, Professor Choi…” You linger in the doorway, clutching your notebook tight to your chest. “Sorry I missed class—”
“Is everything alright?”
“Yeah—”
“You’re not overwhelmed with coursework, are you?” His eyes search yours, and there’s a softness in his voice that makes it hard to look away.
“No, no, I’m alright. I just…had a migraine this morning,” you say, shrugging slightly. “It’s gone now, though.”
He nods, easing into a warm smile. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.” His gaze doesn’t waver and the intensity makes your pulse quicken. “So, I’m guessing you’re here to go over questions from the lecture?”
“Actually, it’s Professor Vaughn’s class I’m struggling with. His lecture today was…brutal.”
“I’m shocked,” he says sarcastically. “The man’s got a gift for making simple concepts sound like Greek.”
“Exactly,” you laugh, the tension in your shoulders easing. “I thought it was me, but he seems to take pride in making everything harder than it needs to be.”
“Trust me, it’s not you,” he says, a glint of warmth in his eyes. “He’s terrible. And annoying. And boring. And I’d tell him that.”
You raise a brow, skeptical. “You wouldn’t.”
“Well…” He breaks into a grin. “Maybe after I reach tenure. Though he may be retired by then.”
“Or dead,” you say matter-of-factly. He looks at you awkwardly then you both laugh, genuinely. There’s an ease to it.
He gestures to your notebook. “Alright, let’s see what we’re dealing with.”
-
“I can’t believe I’m laughing at that,” you say, a giggle escaping your lips. 
“You always laugh at my bad jokes,” he replies, staring at your face a little too longingly. If you were anyone else, he might find some excuse to touch you. Maybe brush a piece of lint off your shoulder, lightly touch your arm while he laughed at something you said, or something as casual as a fist bump. 
If he were any other guy, you’d be much more obvious, making it crystal clear you want him to kiss you right now. But you can’t. You don’t even know how he thinks about you. You’re probably just another student to him. 
“Well, those are all my questions,” you say, awkwardly packing your bag. 
“Yeah, you can, uh…head out…” he trails off as you start to rise from your seat. 
You’re searching for something to say, something to let you stay just a little longer. But nothing comes. He watches you walk toward the door, the silence hanging in the space between you. 
“Pens!” His voice suddenly burst out, loud enough to make you stop mid-step. “They, uh—I went to a conference last week and they gave me a ton,” he says, scrambling to gather a handful from his desk. 
You take them, your fingers brushing against his in a way that feels far too intimate. His eyes lock with yours, the touch sending a ripple of tension through you. “But you’re, uh…picky about your pens, aren’t you?” He asks, his voice softer now, almost unsure.
Laughing quietly, you say, “Yeah, but…that’s okay.” Your words are heavy with subtext you can’t bring yourself to say out loud. “Well, goodbye.” You offer him a smile, stepping back toward the door. “Thanks again.” 
“Yeah. Goodbye,” he says, but his feet shuffle forward as if he’s moving without thinking. Awkwardly reaching for a handshake, he realizes your hands are occupied. Instead, he reaches around you for the door handle, but he gets a tad too close and your brain scrambles. 
Before you can hold yourself back, you drop the pens, letting them clatter to the floor as your arms wrap around his neck. Your lips meet his in a rush, warm and soft. While your eyes close to savor the feeling, his widen in shock before he relaxes into your touch and wraps his hands around your waist, pulling you closer. 
It’s everything you’ve been holding back—unspoken feelings unraveling in a heartbeat. His lips move against yours with a hunger that surprises you, the world melting away as you lose yourself in the moment. You feel weightless, your pulse racing as his hands grip your waist a little tighter, as though he’s afraid to let you go.
When you finally break apart, breathless and dazed, he presses his forehead to yours, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. “You’re never gonna use those pens, are you?” he asks, his voice low and rough, like he’s trying to anchor himself in humor, trying to bring himself back down to earth.
You laugh, shaking your head. “No,” you admit, your heart still pounding. “They’re garbage.”
Before you can think, you kiss him again and this time, he doesn’t hesitate. His mouth crashes into yours with an urgency, like he’s wanted to kiss you since the second he laid eyes on you. His lips are soft, but his kiss is demanding, making up for all the lost moments between you. For those few minutes, nothing else matters—you bask in one of the greatest kisses either of you have ever had. But not for long.
Reality catches up too quickly. You pull away suddenly, breathless and wide-eyed. “Oh my god—” you gasp, backing up, your fingers graze your lips trying to make sense of what just happened. “I’m so sorry—”
“No,” he interrupts quickly, shaking his head. “Don’t be. I—” He’s stumbling through his words, just as lost as you are but neither of you regret it. “I wanted—”
“That was…” You can’t even finish your sentence. It was everything. Too much, too fast, too real. But you can’t take it back.
“I—” He’s trying to find the right words, to reassure you, to tell you he felt it too, that he wanted it just as badly. But he’s as flustered as you are, his voice rough and unsure.
“I’ll just…go throw myself off a bridge now,” you mumble. You can’t even look at him as you make a beeline for the door, your face burning with embarrassment. You think you hear him say something, but the blood rushing in your ears drowns it out.
You leave the room quickly, your heart about to burst through your chest, trying to process what just happened. The kiss lingers on your lips, a mix of exhilaration and terror swirling inside you. It’s too much to handle.
But, hey, there’s one bit of good news. At least he kissed you back. 
-
What the fuck are you supposed to do now? Drop his class? It’s too late in the semester for that. And you need those credits. Wait until the end of the semester to talk to him again? Can you go that long without his lips on yours again? 
Back at your apartment, you rummage through your books to find the university’s code of conduct, hurriedly searching for anything related to “appropriate relationships,” “faculty-student relationships,” “consensual,” blah blah blah, whatever the university has coded sleeping with a professor.
The University strongly urges those individuals in positions of authority not to engage in conduct of an amorous or sexual nature with a person they are, or are likely in the future to be, in a position of evaluating.
Your eyes read over the words, “strongly urges” once more. Not totally against the rules, you suppose. Even if you did wait until the semester was over, you’d need to report it. You wish you could talk with him about it, but bringing this up is tricky. Is it moving too fast? You can’t text him, you don’t have his number. And using your student email to send a message to his faculty email that says, “Oh, by the way, I checked the rules and we’re in the clear to have sex!” is a terrible idea. 
Maybe one kiss in his office doesn’t mean anything. Oh, but it was everything. 
-
After much deliberation, you convince yourself to attend his class a few days later. You’ve brought the code of conduct along, as well as a bright pink post-it sticking out of the book. To avoid any form of small talk with him, you wait outside right until the start of class. 
Along the way to your desk, you silently plop the code of conduct on his desk and scurry away. When you work up the courage to look up at him, he’s flipped to the marked page. Highlighted on the page is the paragraph that “strongly urges” people in positions of authority not to sleep with students. 
He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed. The message couldn’t be clearer, he thought. You’re practically telling him to leave you alone. But when he finally reads the post-it, his heart flutters. Written in your handwriting, it says, It’s okay to fuck it up! complete with a smiley face. 
As much as he tries to fight it, he glances up at you to catch your gaze. And just as the slightest smile appears on his face, a big one appears on yours. You hide it with your palm as you start at the blank page of your notebook. Blinking, he shakes his head and begins his lecture. But how can you concentrate now? 
You’ve gotta give it to him, he delivers his lecture perfectly. If it were you, you’d barely be able to think. Hell, you barely can throughout the whole thing. 
Now that you’ve gotten that smile of permission, you finally let yourself daydream. 
Has his ass always been that cute? Has he always been that tall? Has his voice always been that deep and sexy? 
You don’t even know what he’s talking about, but that’s okay, you can always stop by his office hours. “What do you think?” He asks. 
Oh shit, he’s looking at you for an answer. He can always rely on you to keep class moving along when everybody else is dead silent. You shake out of your thoughts, panic-reading the board to come up with something. It's similar to your discussion you had the last time you went to his office hours. The time that ended in that gorgeous kiss. Throwing together an answer, his eyes brighten as he cheers, “Exactly!” 
Oh my god. He’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. You could just gobble him up. 
-
“So, I suppose we should talk about…” Professor Choi trails off, leaving the sentence hanging in the air like it’s obvious what he’s getting at. And it is. But you stay quiet. You wanna hear him admit it. You raise an eyebrow, playing coy.
You decided to press your luck by visiting his office outside scheduled office hours—right after class—to simply test the waters and gauge his reaction to the code of conduct and that kiss…that incredible kiss. 
“You know…” He gestures vaguely between the two of you, sighing like okay, fine, I guess I’ll say it. “I like you and you like me, right?” His voice dips just slightly, enough for you to notice the hesitation. “Unless I’m totally misreading—”
“No! You’re not…misreading anything,” you’re quick to say, along with a chuckle. Phew—he was worried there for a second. So goddamn cute. “What do you wanna talk about?”
He exhales a small laugh, but his smile is strained, cautious. “I want to make sure you don’t feel…weird about this.” Hand sliding nervously along the edge of his desk, he traces the wood grain before his eyes flick up to meet yours. Truth be told, he’d never do something like this with a student. Never want to make anyone feel pressured. But he never thought he’d feel like this. Giddy and blushy like you’re his first crush. 
“Why would I feel weird?” You tilt your head, genuinely curious. You’ve thought about this—about him—far too much for any of it to feel weird.
“I’m just terrified you feel like you need to do something about this.” You’re taken aback, confusion visibly etched across your face. “You know, because I’m your professor or because I’m in the department and I know your plans for a PhD here.” His voice softens, vulnerability creeping in. “I don’t want it to feel like I’m pushing you into anything.”
“I don’t,” you say gently. “It’s not like that.”
He nods, though the tightness in his jaw doesn’t disappear. “Because if you ever even remotely feel like I’m pressuring you, I want you to tell me. Immediately. I mean it.”
“No,” You shake your head, almost too fast. “I mean, it doesn’t feel like that. Not at all. I’ve thought about this…about us, a lot.” Your voice falters for a moment as his eyes widen, softening in a way that makes your stomach flutter. You weren’t expecting him to look at you like that—so open, so relieved.
His fingers twitch as if he’s resisting the urge to reach out to you. “Yeah?”
You nod again, more confidently this time. “But I think we should wait until the semester’s over. Before we…you know…do anything.”
He smiles gently and leans back, visibly more at ease. “I think so too.” 
But you didn’t realize how fucking difficult it would be to get through the last six weeks of the semester. Every class you sit there, thighs pressed together thinking about the dirtiest things you want him to do to you. Every office hour you went to, you could practically swim through the thickness of the tension between you two. 
It didn’t help how cute he was being. Post-its he’d leave on every exam of yours—You’re gonna do great! You’ve got this. Trust your instincts.—encouragement no other student got. You kept every one of them in your bedside table drawer. 
When finals week finally arrives, it wasn’t just about exams; it was about counting the hours until you could finally be with him. Or at least talk to him like he wasn’t your professor. As he handed over your final exam, the familiar green post-it note was stuck to it: Happy Finals Week! 
Your internal scream was so loud, you’re worried your classmates heard it. You’d pre-written a post-it to stick to it once you returned the exam. It had your phone number, a smiley face, and the words: Since you’re not my professor anymore. 
-
After a full day of checking your phone every twenty seconds, you started to give up. Was he just playing you? Did someone else see the note? Did he change his mind? But finally, you receive a text.
hi! this is soobin (professor choi lol). i was wondering if you wanted to get dinner or something?
soobin!! omg yes i would love to get dinner with you :) how’s tomorrow? 
how about right now? if you want, of course! no pressure we can totally wait until tomorrow it’s up to you
You squealed into your pillow, kicking and giggling like an idiot. Should you be flirty back? 
i can be ready in 30 min. 364 oakridge drive. it’s an apartment building- i’ll meet you downstairs. 
be there in 45 :) 
-
Like a perfect gentleman, Soobin meets you at the passenger door, swinging it open with a charming smile before gently closing it behind you. The slow walk up to his front door makes your stomach stir. He has to fumble through his keys to unlock it. 
Once inside, he slips his shoes off quietly, revealing cozy patterned socks that make you smile. Meticulously, he hangs his jacket on a coat tree and places his keys in a speckled clay catch-all that rests on a table next to a houseplant. As he walks toward the kitchen, he glances over his shoulder, his voice low and inviting. “Do you want a drink or something?” The warmth in his gaze makes your heart skip a beat.
You’re drawn to this softer side of him. In class, his tone is bright and dorky. In his office, it’s casual and laid-back. At dinner, it was sweet and charming. But now? Now it’s sultry, almost sexy. Like he can’t wait to be with you but would never, ever pressure you. 
“Hot tea?” You suggest with a steady voice, despite the butterflies in your stomach.
“Sounds good,” he agrees, switching on his tea kettle. In the meantime, you take a look around his much neater than expected apartment. 
The mid-century modern furniture is impeccably arranged—a sleek sofa, a low coffee table, and a stylish armchair with an even more stylish decorative pillow. Perfectly nurtured plants thrive around the room, adding a green vibrancy to the minimalist backdrop, breathing life into the space. A gallery wall above his expensive-looking couch features travel photos, beautiful art, and a few subtly science-inspired pieces. In the corner across the couch is a sleek electric fireplace underneath a huge TV. 
“Who’s this?” you ask, your heart swelling as a fluffy gray cat glares at you through one half-open eye. Her perfectly groomed fur and regal posture make her look like she owns the place. Just then, Soobin steps into the living room, holding two steaming mugs of tea, filling the air with a warm spice. 
“That’s Molly…short for Molecule,” he says. “Don’t worry, she’s sweet.” 
Extending your hand toward the cat, he starts to sniff you. “Hi, M—wait,” you pause, looking up at Soobin with a teasing smile. “Molly, short for Molecule?” He nods, his grin widening. “You’re adorable,” you tell him. Has anyone ever blushed quite like he did just now?
He stares down at his feet, clearly caught off guard. “You’re,” he starts. “Well, you’re cute too.” His sincerity makes your smile grow even stronger.
“Can I sit?” you ask, nodding toward the couch.
“Oh,” his smile falters for a moment. “Yes, of course. Make yourself at home.” You plop down on his couch, settling into the surprisingly soft cushions. Molly clearly doesn’t think the couch is big enough for the two of you, so she strides over to probably the nicest cat tree you’ve ever seen.
You sip your hot tea and your body finally relaxes. As you reach to sit it on the coffee table, he politely asks, “I don’t mean to be a square, but can you use a coaster?” 
“Of course,” you say, complying with the request. “So, tell me,” you begin, clearing your throat. “How’d I do on my final?” Humming, he stands to rummage through his messenger bag slumped over a dining chair. You gasp, “A ninety-seven?” Thumbing through the pages, you find a single red X on possibly the easiest question you’ve had on an exam since high school: What is the atomic number of oxygen? “Are you kidding me?” 
Any attempt to mask your embarrassment is impossible. It only deepens when you look up and catch him already watching you—lips pressed tight, failing miserably to hide a smug, amused smile.  
“I, uh…” You scratch the back of your neck. “I got that one wrong on purpose. You know, so as to not raise any suspicion.” 
His eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, did you now?” You nod. “That was on the exam just so Toby wouldn’t get a zero.” You nod begrudgingly. “And you put 10! That’s not even close. That’s—”
“Neon,” you grumble. “Yeah I know…” you say, avoiding his eyes as he laughs playfully. 
“Neon’s a noble gas and oxygen is a—”
“Reactive nonmetal,” you cut him off. “I know, okay?” You shove his shoulder playfully, but your grin betrays you. “It was a high-pressure environment. Sitting in an exam room with your professor watching you."
"I barely looked up from my laptop,” he reminds you. 
"Your presence is distracting enough," you shoot back, eyes sparkling with mischief.
"Ah, so my intellectual aura threw you off?”
“I dunno…is that what you think, professor?” You ask cheekily. “Maybe it was something else.” You’ve tossed the exam onto the coffee table, moving closer. 
“Like what?” 
“Just…you. You’re distracting.” You smirk, the words slipping out almost involuntarily, like they’ve been waiting on the tip of your tongue. 
Intrigued, he tilts his head and asks, “What about me?” There’s something magnetic in the way he looks at you—like he knows the answer but wants to hear you say it, to savor the way it sounds coming from your lips. 
You hum, tracing the lines of his body with your eyes, mapping out uncharted territory before exploring it. You don’t want to move too fast, but every fiber of your being screams for more. He’s not lighting a fire inside you—he’s setting the whole forest ablaze. Sure, your imagination has been running rampant since he returned your feelings six weeks ago, but now that you’re here, he scrambles every thought.
“Your eyes…” you say while yours flick over his face, taking in every curve, every freckle, every lash. “They’re so pretty.” 
A smile—small but real—tugs at the corners of his lips. The kind that’s private, meant just for you. His eyes darken as he leans in, the space between you shrinking. You glance down, noticing the way his long fingers curl around the mug handle. There’s something almost hesitant in the way he holds it. You take it from him gently, setting it atop a coaster as quietly as you can.
“Your hands…” you whisper, fingers barely brushing his knuckles, tension coiled under his skin. They’re hands that have worked, experimented, written things down—hands you want on you. Guiding one to your thigh, the squeeze he returns sends a shudder through you. 
Everything between you is electric. Your breaths come faster now, more desperate. Every inch you move toward him is a test, a slow-motion collapse of restraint.
“Your legs…” A soft breathless chuckle escapes as you glance down. His lips part like he’s about to speak, but you don’t give him the chance. Boldness surges through you like a current and you hike one leg over both of his, straddling him. The shift is seismic. His hands move to your hips, gripping you, afraid to let go. The heat of his touch spreads through you, anchoring you in place, though it feels like everything around you is spinning.
“And your lips…” you murmur, leaning closer, your breath mingling with his. “Oh my god, those fucking lips.” You can’t stop staring at them, just a breath away now, soft and wet. Your pulse races. 
You cup his face, lifting his chin until his eyes meet yours again. His pupils are blown wide, the desire in them unmistakable. Your thumb brushes his bottom lip, and the moment stretches, suspended. You lean in just enough to feel his breath on your lips. 
“Kiss me,” you whisper.
And he does.
It isn’t tentative—it’s dam-breaking. Like he’s been starving for it, holding back for years. His lips are soft but urgent as his hands tighten around your hips to pull you closer. You taste jasmine tea on his lips, a subtle sweetness mingling with the spice of his cologne—clove, pepper, something dark and addictive. 
“Holy shit,” you whisper against his lips. “I can’t believe I had to wait so long to kiss you again.” You kiss him again and he moans sweetly into your mouth. Just as the kiss deepens, he retreats, his breath ragged. “You okay?” 
Nervously nodding, he says, “Yeah,” but his eyes flicker away. He tries to kiss you again, but you place your hand on his chest, gently stopping him.
“Wait,” you say, eyes searching his face. “What’s going on? Am I being too—”
“No,” he says, almost a little too urgently. “It’s not that. It’s just…” His hands fall to the couch. Bracing to tell the truth, he squeezes his eyes shut before adding, “I need to tell you something.” You sit back on your heels, still in his lap but giving him room to speak. 
“What is it?” You ask softly. 
“There’s this thing… I haven’t—uh…” He stumbles over the words, his fingers twitching at his sides.
“Soobin?” you ask, your voice gentle but steady. That’s the first time you’ve called him by his first name. It feels utterly…vulnerable. “Are you a virgin?” The question is delicate. Shutting his eyes again, he takes a deep breath. 
“No,” he says. “Well, not exactly.” You narrow your eyes at him. What is that even supposed to mean? “It’s just…it’s been a while. And before then, I hadn’t had a lot of sex. And I haven’t had any…recently.” 
“How long?” you encourage, your eyes softening.
“A year.” 
You hum softly in acknowledgement, watching his confidence falter. Instead of pulling back, you lean forward, trailing slow, deliberate kisses along his neck. He trembles under your touch, a soft gasp escaping his lips, your hands moving all over his body, claiming him.
“Oh, Professor Choi,” you whisper, your voice dripping with heat and promise. “We’re gonna have so much fun.”
-
As your breath slows, you sit up and let your hand linger over his chest, feeling his heartbeat under your palm. “Tell me,” you start. “What do you like?” 
“Um,” he swallows, trying to force the lump down his throat. He’s so hesitant but he finally says, “Touching.” 
“You touching my body or me touching yours?” 
He exhales shakily. “The first,” he says, confirming with a squeeze to your hips. 
You hum against his ear. What are you gonna do with him? Tease him forever? Let him have his way with you? You ask, “Why don’t you take my shirt off for me?” 
Gracing his hands over your arms, he grounds himself again before asking, “You sure?” 
“I’m sure.” You nod, guiding his hands to the top button of your blouse, letting him slip it through the buttonhole. One by one, he exposes more of your skin, his heart thumping harder with each passing second. Pushing the silky fabric past your shoulders until your top half is only covered by a bubblegum pink mesh bra, leaving almost nothing to the imagination—except for the red embroidered hearts over your nipples.
After easing the shirt out from your trousers, you reach back to pull at the sleeves, letting the shirt fall to the floor. He slips his finger under one of your bra straps, pulling it to the side, but you stop him. “Wait. It’s your turn.” 
Tugging on his tie, you slip it through the collar and unbutton his dress shirt. Seeing his body bare in front of you for the first time, you’re practically drooling. You indulge in running your hands all over his body, lean with subtle muscles, from his chest to the bottom of his abs. 
“How come you got to touch me if I didn’t get to touch you?” He asks innocently. 
“You’re right,” you chuckle. “I’m sorry.” You smile and sit up to press your palms against his and let your fingers intertwine. Your heart melts and you fear you may throw up. “Did you want to take my bra off first?” He nods. Fumbling fingers reach behind you to snap it off, letting it fall to the couch. As he sees your bare tits, his eyes widen and he lets out the cutest little Oh. 
He’s hesitant to do anything. You have to guide his hands to massage your tits—and they’re the perfect size for you. 
“You’re so…soft,” he says, looking up at your eyes, like he’s not sure if that was okay to say. 
“You like them?” He nods eagerly. Experimentally swiping a thumb across a nipple, it hardens at his touch while you let out a sharp gasp. 
“You like that,” he says matter-of-factly. “Can I taste?” Nodding, you lean forward, welcoming his lips. His body finally relaxes as he moans against your skin. Circling the tip of his tongue around your nipple, he’s teasing you. And oh my god do you love it. 
One of your hands threads through his hair and you stuff the other down your pants, but he grabs your wrist softly. 
“That’s not fair,” he whispers and you concede, keeping your hands to yourself. With one hand, he stuffs your tit back in his mouth while the other plays with your other nipple. His hot, wet mouth on one nipple and his teasing fingers playing with the other sends waves of pleasure through you that may send you over the edge.
If you don’t do something to ease your need, you’re not sure how much longer you’ll be able to take this. You resort to grinding against his hard cock, making his hips buck. 
Lifting your legs off his, you swing around to sit next to him, palming his cock over his trousers. Desperately clawing at the waistband, you unbutton and unzip his pants, encouraging him to kick them off. He stands to slip them off and as you reach for the band of his boxers, he stops you. 
“Your turn,” he whispers. And you comply. But not without a show. Standing slowly, you push him to the couch and turn your back to him. As you push your pants down, your ass looks delicious in your thong that matches your bra—mesh bubblegum pink with red trim. When you turn back, he’s fisting himself over his underwear. 
“Nuh-uh, that’s not fair,” you say. Returning next to him on the couch, you feel him over his boxers and your mouth waters. Goddamn you can’t wait for him to be inside you. “Do you have any lube?” He nods and shortly returns with a barely used tube. 
While he stays standing, you sit up on the couch, running your hands across his muscular thighs and perfect pelvis. Looking up at him, his eyes are bright, darting all over your body like he’s afraid to miss something. He fiddles with his waistband, flipping the elastic over softly. A small smile flicks across your lips before you tug his boxers down his legs, leaving trails of kisses along the way.
Encouraging him to sit down, you look down at his cock, long and hard and dripping with precum. Finally, you drag your fingertips up and down his cock before squeezing him. He moans like you’ve never heard a man moan before. Laying your head on his shoulder, you sprinkle kisses all over his skin, finding a spot behind his ear that makes him squirm. 
He hisses and—almost involuntarily—wraps one of his hands around yours to use his long fingers to guide your hand up and down. There’s something magical about someone with so little experience telling—no, showing—you what to do with his body. It’s electrifying. He hasn’t been touched in so long that he’s desperate to get off and can’t waste time with words. But no words need to be shared. His movements tell you what speed he likes. 
Snaking his other arm around you, he stuffs his fingers in your hair and clenches his fist, subconsciously tugging the strands. His lips are right against your ear, breathing rapidly and heavily and he can hardly take it anymore. You watch his chest rise and fall as he clenches your hair, moaning getting quicker, he squeaks and whines. 
Hurriedly pressing his lips to your temple, you can’t take your eyes off his cock as he shoots short spurts of cum all over his stomach. It takes a moment for him to catch his breath before he gives you a sweet smile. 
You don’t let up with kisses all over his body. Sprinkling kisses here and there while he cleans himself up with a hand towel he��d brought with him when he got the lube from his bedroom. Once he’s clean, he slouches down the couch. 
“Will you sit on my face?” His eyes are ever so sweet and innocent, like he’s finally able to test all his fantasies. “Please…” You hum like you’re only considering it, but we all know you’ll say yes. “Please, mommy?” Everything halts. 
“Mommy?” 
“F-fuck—” he sits up, ears turning redder than you’ve ever seen them—anyone’s ears for that matter. “I’m sorry, I should’ve asked first—”
“No, no…” you say gently, cupping his jaw to make him look at you. You can’t help yourself—you press your lips to his again and you lose yourself in his intoxicating kiss. But you break it and say, “Keep calling me that.” 
“M-mommy?” You hum. Before you give him what he asked for, you shove your tit in front of his lips. He doesn’t need to be told what to do. His plush lips wrap around your hard nipple while he thumbs the other. It feels like fucking heaven.
“That’s my good boy.” He lets out the most pathetic whimper you’ve ever heard in your goddamn life. His eyebrows furrow, looking up at you through his lashes. “Are you my good boy?”
“Yes,” he says, nodding eagerly. “Yes, mommy. Of course.” 
“Soobin,” you breathe in disbelief, dropping your head back. “You’re so sexy, I swear to god.” 
“Nuh-uh,” he shakes his head. “That’s you.” He smiles. “Will you please sit on my face now?” He slouches down again without waiting for an answer. “Please.” You hike your leg up to rest your foot against the back of the couch, gently hovering over him. But he wraps his hands around your hips to yank you down. As he flicks his tongue over your clit, you might be embarrassed by the volume of your moan, but there’d be no reason to. 
“I thought you said you didn’t do this a lot?”
“Well,” he takes a deep breath. “This was always what I was best at.” You chuckle. “Wait, no—” he shakes his head. “I’m good at the other stuff too. I hope.” Returning his tongue to your clit, you gasp and fall forward, bracing yourself against the back of the couch. He seizes the opportunity to get fully entranced in your taste. 
There's an impossible contrast—your body melts, muscles soft and pliant as you surrender to the pleasure but, at the same time, goosebumps prickle along your skin, sharp and electric. Warmth and vulnerability layered with a thrill that leaves you shivering, somehow both at ease and on edge.
But then he snakes his hand behind your ass to tease your asshole with his pinky. And it's overwhelming. Your knees are so weak you can hardly hold yourself up. The way his hands feel on your body, touching you in all the right places, flicking his tongue perfectly, moaning so temptingly along with the built up tension—it is so much. So. Fucking. Much. 
It builds in your stomach—teetering on the edge and god you only hope he doesn’t stop what he’s doing. But you can’t form words to tell him that. But he knows. 
And then it happens. 
You feel like you’re floating—or falling may be more accurate—as your orgasm washes over you, thighs quite literally quivering around his face as you come undone on top of him. For him. Unable to hold yourself up any longer, you roll and plop to the couch and he sloppily replaces his tongue with his fingers. You make a mental note to show him exactly where your clit is later. How is it that he found it so easily with his tongue but missed it with his hand? You guess he was right—oral is what he’s best at. Your chest heaves with your deep breaths as you come down from your high, watching him smirk at you. 
“Oh my god,” you say breathlessly. There’s a beat of silence. “What the fuck?”
“What?” He chuckles. 
“I wasn’t expecting that.” 
“I told you I’m good at it.” 
“Where’s your bedroom? This couch is too small for what we’re about to do.” 
Once he shuts his bedroom door to keep Molly out, he pulls you by your waist to press his bare body to yours and kisses you again so romantically it takes your breath away. 
“Wow,” he whispers against your lips. “You’re so beautiful.” 
“Oh my god, shut up.” You go straight back in for more kisses. But you break it— “But not literally, though. Please keep saying stuff like that.” You giggle together, slowly falling toward the bed until you’re gently laid on your back and he’s over top of you. 
“Can I, like, kiss all over your body?”
“Of course,” you say. “You don’t need to ask.”
And then he does exactly what he wants. Starting at your lips, he moves to the corner of your mouth, trailing behind your ear and down your neck. The way his breath tickles your neck sends shivers down your spine and you need more, more, more. 
As you lay there, simply basking in the feeling of him taking his time exploring every inch of you with the softest lips you’ve ever felt, you can’t help but be giddy. He’s tentative in some areas and eager in others. After he kisses the sensitive skin under your breast, he carefully observes your reaction. When he delicately presses his lips to your pelvis, his eyes flutter up to yours nervously. 
“Soobin,” you say breathlessly. He hums against your tummy, shaky hands running up your thighs. “I need you please.”
“You need me?” You nod. “Where do you need me, mommy?” You groan, arching your back, not even knowing where to start. You need him everywhere. 
“Inside me,” you say. “Please, I’ve been thinking about it for so long.” 
“Have you?” He asks innocently, using his fingers to play with the folds of your pussy so casually, like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. “I should be the impatient one.” But you know why he’s taking it so slow. He’s nervous as hell right now. 
Aligning his cock with your entrance, he slowly pushes himself inside you. And it's utterly exhilarating. For both of you. He falls forward, framing your face with his forearms, digging his nose into your neck. 
“Fuck…” He whispers shakily. Your nails drag down his back at his inexperienced hip rolls. “Oh my god, what are you doing to me?” Despite his inevitable desperation, his thrusts are controlled. He’s trying his very best at least. But his cock is so fucking perfect, you figure he’d make you feel good no matter what he does. Although, a little part of you thinks about how good he’ll be at fucking you in a few months after a little practice. Or lots of practice. 
He whispers swears, your name, and mommy…over and over again. Then he sits up, looking down at your body. Awkwardly fumbling as if he wants to say something, his mouth isn’t cooperating with his brain. He slowly comes to a stop, sliding out of you and barely touches your calf. 
“Can you, uh…would you mind, um—” 
"Do you wish to see me on my knees? Is that it, darling?"
“Yes, mommy…please, I’ve never—” 
“You’ve never had someone on their knees for you?” You ask and he silently shakes his head. “You’ve been such a good boy for me. Of course I’ll get on my knees for you.” You oblige to his request, turning yourself around and arching your back to give him a perfect view of your ass. He groans at the simple sight of your body. He swipes his hands over the swell of your ass, squeezing here and there. 
He clears his throat and asks, “What do I do?”
“Oh,” you chuckle lightly. “Just get on your knees and guide yourself in. Make sure it’s the right hole,” you say light-heartedly, trying to ease the tension a bit. 
But when he’s finally inside you again, it’s heaven. And he indulges in himself a bit—thrusting faster, harder, making your ass jiggle. The lewd sounds of his cock in your wetness and his hips smacking your skin makes it all the more erotic. But it doesn’t take long before—
“I like it better the other way, I think,” he says matter-of-factly. “Is that okay?”
“Of course that’s okay, babe,” you say, flipping back over and spreading your legs. And he slides right back inside you, letting his head fall back. But your tits bouncing are simply too tempting not to look at. They’re why he prefers it this way, so why not look at them as much as he can? He retreats a bit, opening his mouth like he wants to ask you something but he’s too shy. 
“What is it, baby?”
“I was just wondering if you…if you could—would you want to be on top?” His tone is genuinely sweet. “Like what position do you like?”
“Missionary’s my favorite too,” you say. “But I would, hm, I would really like to be on top for a bit.” Switching quickly, you align yourself over his cock and sink down on him so, so, so slowly, letting out a big sigh of relief. “Oh my god, Soobin. Are you fucking kidding me?” You don’t think you’ve ever felt so full before. The feeling stretches all the way to your toes. “I need to hump you like crazy for a bit,” you say with a chuckle. He nods like that’s perfectly fine with me, mommy. 
And you do exactly that—bounce on his cock as fast as your body lets you, relieving that built-up tension. Over the last few months, you wanted to jump his bones every time you were in the same room and that feeling never let up, like there was a tension thermometer in your body that was constantly stuck at boiling. 
But perhaps it was a bit more painful for him because an occasional rut up into you isn’t enough anymore. He holds your hips to keep you in place, fucking up into you as fast as he can. Head dropping back, he groans, your name leaving his lips. 
“Mommy?” His eyebrows furrow, looking utterly pathetic. “Let’s switch back. Please.” Hiking your leg over his hips, you land roughly on your back. Gently grabbing your hands, he pins them above your head, aligns his cock at your entrance, and slides inside you, rolling his hips so deliciously. As he kisses you, he swallows your moans. Trailing down your neck, he whispers, “Please tell me I’m making you feel good, Mommy.” 
Your eyes roll back in pleasure and you say, “Fuck, you’re making me feel so good.” 
Slowing his thrusts, he asks, “What else would you like me to do?” Smiling up at him, you rub his thighs. Waiting for an answer, he covers your collarbone in kisses, making his way back to your ear. After nibbling gently on your earlobe, he whispers, “Tell me how to make you feel even better.” Oof. Shivers. 
“Rub my clit,” you say. He sits up, fumbling with his fingers. “Use your thumb,” you giggle. “Wait.” Reaching for his hand, you let spit pool in your mouth before wrapping your lips around his thumb. Sucking on it, he looks at you like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. Then he follows your instructions, rubbing your clit with his thumb while he fucks you, listening intently to every instruction, every a little to the lefts, up a little bit mores, and he never gets impatient. 
Your back arches impossibly high and you say, “I’m close, babe. Don’t stop.” You rub your own nipple, but he moves your hand out of the way, wetting his thumb with his own spit before circling it for you. 
Everything has been building to this moment. Staring at him in every lecture, longing for his touch. That kiss in his office was just the start of your addiction. Attending his office hours didn’t help, but you couldn’t stay away. You needed to be closer to him. To feel heat radiating off his body. To smell his spicy cologne. To watch his fingers wrap around his pen and wish they were wrapped around something else. 
All of it was for this moment right here. Cumming around his cock for the first time. You can’t wait any longer. There’s a white hot burning in your belly that’s getting more furious by the second. His name leaves your mouth in a yelp before fireworks explode inside you. 
Your legs shake around his waist as he fucks you through it, not changing a single thing. Overwhelmed with pleasure, you grab his wrist to stop him from rubbing your nipple to make sure it’s the most perfect orgasm you’ve ever had—not too much and not too little. 
And it’s neither. Instead, it’s perfection. You knew it would be. It seems to last forever but somehow not long enough. As soon as you finish, you miss it. 
Catching your breath, your vision clears up as you look up at him with a smile. He shyly asks, “How was that?” 
You take a deep breath and say, “Oh my god, that was so good.” Rubbing soothing strokes up and down your thighs, you can tell he’s getting impatient. But still—he’d never pressure you in a million years. 
Bending to kiss your neck again, he whispers, “Can I cum inside you?” You nod frantically. 
“Please.” 
“I have condoms if you want.” You think about it for a second. Really. You would love nothing more than to feel him fill you up. But it’s risky. “Mommy…” His hips slowly start moving again, encouraging a decision from you. “What are you thinking?”
“Cum inside me, please. Wanna feel all of you,” you say, rubbing his back. He smiles, pressing his lips to yours in a passionate kiss that sends your head reeling. He sits up and squeezes your thighs over and over, adoring the way your body feels in his hands. Soft and squishy and intoxicating. Licking your own thumb, you pinch and rub one of his nipples, making his mouth drop open. He didn’t even think of having his own nipples played with. 
“Fuck, fuck, fuck—” he gasps. You praise him, Cum inside me, baby. You’ve been such a good boy for me. I want you to feel so good for me, okay? And he’s rutting his hips into you roughly, using your body for his own pleasure. You simply can’t get enough. You want him inside you forever and ever. “You’re…” he trails off. “You’re gonna make me cum, Mommy.”
“Go ahead. Cum for me.” Like it’s a command, his hips stutter and his cum fills you up, warm and sweet and heavenly. Swears and other inaudible words you hope are compliments spill out of his mouth. Falling forward, he digs his face into your neck once more, twitching until he comes to a stop, taking deep breaths. 
You expect a warm smile to echo his warm cum filling you up but he stays put. In fact, he doesn’t move or say anything for quite some time. So much time passes that his cock has slipped out of you on its own, his cum leaking down the swell of your ass. 
You finally break the silence, “Are you okay?” He nods awkwardly. “Look at me.” He shakes his head. “What’s wrong?” He still won’t budge. “Soobin, what’s going on?”
“I’m embarrassed,” he whines.
“Huh? About what?” 
“Calling you mommy,” he finally sits up. “I was just caught up in the moment—I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have—”
“Honey,” you giggle, sitting up with him. “I told you I liked it.” 
“You weren’t just saying that?”
“I don’t think I would’ve came that hard if I didn’t like it.” 
His eyes brighten before adding, “I guess so.” It genuinely was one of the strongest orgasms you’ve ever had. Surely, he has to know that, right? But wait— 
“Was it good for you?”
“Oh my god,” he’s finally relaxed a little, peppering your face with kisses. “That was the best orgasm I’ve ever had, I swear.” He stands, walking into his en-suite to get you a towel, damp with warm water. “So…” he starts awkwardly. “Should we, like, report this to the dean?” 
“Is that your way of asking me to be exclusive?” He blushes as you brush some of his hair behind his ear. “Because my answer is absolutely.” You press your lips together. “Although, can we hold off for a while? Just until next semester starts?”
“Be in our own little world for a bit?” He smiles, wrapping his arms around your waist. “You’re taking a break until next semester, right? Are you working right now?”
“No,” you shake your head. “I got a bunch of scholarships to pay for school,” you say proudly. 
“Why am I not surprised?” 
“Because I’m the smartest person you know,” you say cheekily. 
“No lectures until next semester, so I’m pretty much free.” He smiles, clearly wanting to say something more, but bites his tongue. “Can I ask you something?” You nod. “This may be moving way too fast, but do you maybe wanna spend the holidays here? With me?”
The next few weeks are a whirlwind. Both of you admit it’s too fast. But neither of you care. The fireplace roars as you decorate his Christmas tree together, wrapped presents, baked cookies, everything you could think of that ooey-gooey couples do. 
And of course, nightly sex is a bonus. You simply can’t get enough of each other. And you just about lose it when you walk into the kitchen on Christmas morning. He’s standing at the counter wearing a Santa hat, flannel pajama pants, and a black tank top making your favorite tea. 
“Ah, there she is! Good morning,” he says with a smile. You take a plate full of chocolate chip waffles from him. But not before he kisses you. Cupping your cheek, he pulls you into perhaps the sweetest kiss you’ve ever had. You can feel his smile on your lips. 
And everything feels absolutely perfect. You think you may be dreaming, but he feels so very real at this moment. And his voice is clear as day, “Merry Christmas.” 
309 notes · View notes
mynameismckenziemae · 2 days ago
Text
No Nut November
Part 1 (Part 2 here)
Jake Seresin x Female Reader/You x Bradley Bradshaw
Tumblr media
Summary: Bradley and Jake decide to partake in No Nut November…without consulting you first. You’re determined to make them cave.
Warnings: Adults (18+) only! MDNI! This work contains: adult language, dirty talk, teasing, talks of ass play/anal, oral (f receiving), a little spanking.
🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜
“You wouldn’t last a week,” Jake chuckles as he leans forward over the green velvet pool table to shoot, “I’ve bunked with you for chrissakes.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bradley asks, resting his back against the wall.
The way his eyes heat when they flick to Jake’s jean-clad ass makes your stomach flutter as you drop off the round of beers.
There’s…something going on between them, but you never ask. Just like they know you’re hooking up with both of them, but neither ask you about that either.
“It means,” Jake straightens as he replies, “I’ve heard you rub one out. Like, every night.”
The image his words bring to mind nearly makes you drop the tray. Bradley lying there in the dark, hand shoved inside those boxer briefs, biting his lip to stay quiet as he hurriedly jerks off…
Bradley flushes but appears otherwise unbothered he takes the beer you offer. His eyes are on yours while he replies, “I’ve got a high sex drive.”
God, does he ever. Not once in the countless nights you’ve spent with him over the past year has he only gone one round. Usually, the next morning too, when you wake up to his hard cock pressing against your ass.
“And no self-control apparently,” Jake quips at your back, sliding his fingers down your arm as he reaches around to take one of the bottles.
Bradley rolls his eyes as he takes a long swig, holding the bottle out to you when he’s done. “Will you hold this while I wipe the floor with Bagman, sweetheart?”
“Hangman,” Jake corrects like he does every time.
Bradley winks as he hands you the bottle, knocking his shoulder into Jake’s after he takes the cue from him.
“So,” you say as you turn to watch, leaning back in the spot Bradley vacated before bringing his beer to your lips to steal a drink, “What were you two talking about?”
“No Nut November,” Jake replies, retesting beside you. “A couple of the boys are participating. Bradshaw thinks he could do it no problem.”
“What about you?” You look up day him, “Think you can go a full month without it?”
He licks his lips, taking a drink before meeting your gaze.
“30 days of without your hand,” your nails trail up his arm, goosebumps rising in their wake, “or mine.” He tenses when you lean in to whisper near his ear, “Without my mouth or pussy…”
“Fuck,” he breathes, turning his head. The green in his eyes is hardly visible from his lust-blown pupils. The low din of the bar fades away as he draws closer for a kiss.
“Your turn,” Bradley interrupts, causing you both to jump, “And you say I’m the one with no self-control?”
“Yeah,” Jake pushes off the wall, clearing his throat, “You’re the one who can’t wait to jerk off until his bunkie is asleep,” he turns to look at you with a haughty look, “and yes. I can go 30 days without.”
Your brow arches at the line he just drew.
Game on.
“Fuck off,” Bradley laughs, as Jake tugs the cue from his hand and lines up his shot. “Well instead of going to the bathroom 10 minutes later to do the same thing, you could’ve just said something.”
Jake doesn’t reply, but the way his body stiffens tells you what you need to know.
“That’s what I thought,” Bradley murmurs. His smirk turns to a frown when he takes his beer back that’s now only half full.
Penny catches your eye and back behind the bar you go.
🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜
Even though you don’t hear the rest of the conversation, they both leave shortly after with a bullshit excuse about an early morning hop.
Like that’s ever stopped either of them before.
A few days go by with radio silence. Which is unusual despite the casual situationship you’re in with them both. At least you keep telling yourself it’s casual.
Both Jake and Bradley have made it abundantly clear that they want more from you, but you keep using the excuse that you’re not looking for anything serious right now.
But the truth is, you can’t choose between them.
And how could you? Bradley’s charming, funny, and easy-going nature puts you at ease. His cool confidence carries into the bedroom too, the way he coaxes orgasm after orgasm from your body with his dirty words, his talented tongue, his big hands, and bigger cock…
Then there’s Jake. Sure, he’s a cocky asshole, but that’s the thing you lov-like most about him. The way he teases, overstimulates, pushes your body to the limits, and makes you beg is addicting in itself. But in the quiet after, his well hidden sweet, vulnerable side is revealed with murmured praises and sweet kisses to your trembling skin as he wraps his body around yours.
You don’t reach out either and a full week goes by before you see either of them again.
🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜
“Hey sweetheart,” the sound of Bradley’s voice from behind makes your heart flutter.
“Hey,” you turn, feigning nonchalance as you wipe down the bar, “Long time no see.”
I’ve missed you.
“Yeah,” he sighs, sitting on one of the stools, “it’s been crazy at work.”
“Oh,” you fill a glass with what’s on tap and set it down in front of him, “figured you were avoiding me.”
“Now why would I be avoiding you?” He smiles before he brings the bottle to his lips, eyes twinkling.
“You know why,” you lean over the bar, giving him a nice view of your pushed-up breasts down your shirt as you clean the wood in front of him, “You agreed to No Nut November, didn’t you?”
He’s licking the foam from his mustache, eyes locked on your chest when you straighten, “Huh?”
“You and Jake are doing No Nut November, aren’t you?”
“Yeah,” he snaps out of it, giving you a sheepish look, “not the best idea in hindsight.”
“Not really,” you agree, brushing your fingers over his, “I’ve been lonely without you, Roo.”
He exhales shakily at that, giving you a heated look at the name you call him only in bed.
“And it’s only…” you look at the calendar, “November 10th.”
“I know,” he looks pained, “I’ll make it up to you, sweetheart, I swear.”
“Yeah, for a whole 30 seconds,” you say sarcastically, “can’t wait.”
“Really?” He deadpans, and you have to bite your lip to keep from laughing, “When have I ever gotten off before you did? The first time doesn’t count.”
That does make you laugh. He’d chased you for months and was excited, a little too excited the first time you finally let him in your pants. But he’d dropped to his knees after and definitely made up for being quick on the draw.
Just the thought of him looking up at you between your thighs with those honey-brown eyes nearly makes you whimper.
“You’re right,” you smile, “other than the first time, you’ve never gotten off before me.”
He smirks as he brings the glass up to his lips again.
“I suppose it’s not like I can’t get myself off either,” you sigh again, “it’s just not the same though. My fingers don’t fill me up the way you do.”
“Fuck sweetheart,” he sputters, “you can’t just say things like that.”
“But it’s true,” you shrug before leaning in to whisper, relishing in the way he tenses, “I ordered that bigger plug we talked about. It came in the mail yesterday.”
“Oh yeah?” He croaks, tilting his head to ghost his lips over your jaw.
He’s been obsessed with your ass since he first saw you. You brought up trying anal after he played with your ass during doggy and it’s something the two of you have been working towards.
“Yeah,” you sigh, “I wanted to try it out with you, but I don’t think I can wait that long. I need you, Roo. My fingers, toys…nothing compares to the way your cock feels.”
“Jesus,” he breathes, rising suddenly, “I-I gotta go.”
Your eyes drop and your mouth waters when he reaches for his wallet; his cock is straining against the tight denim.
“I’m sorry,” he grimaces as he throws a 20 on the bar before backing away, “I’ll call you, I promise.”
“Okay,” you shrug as if you couldn’t care less, but your heart races.
🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜
Jake shows up 2 nights later and you barely spare him a glance.
This whole thing is his fault, after all.
He finds you doing inventory in the storage room when there’s a lull in service.
“You mad at me?” He asks, moving your hair aside to kiss the weak spot below your ear.
“No,” you try to keep your voice steady, “I love not hearing from or seeing you for over a week.”
Shit.
You cringe, kicking yourself for letting him see you vulnerable.
He pauses, but only for a moment. “I’m sorry, I’ve been busy with work.”
“Yeah,” you murmur, bending over suddenly to check the bottles of liquor on the lowest shelf, “Me too.”
The new position pushes your ass into Jake’s crotch and his hands instinctively reach for your hips.
“What are you doin’ honey?” He grits out, pulling you back to feel every hard inch of him, “‘sides playing with fire?”
His Texas twang comes out when he’s turned on but you suppress the shiver it brings.
“Inventory,” you reply, straightening to write the number down.
“I miss you,” he whispers, making your heart skip a beat, “and I don’t mean just this,” he finds the sweet spot on your neck again. “But I can’t seem to keep my hands,” his fingers dig into your hips as he ruts against your ass, “or my cock to myself when you’re around.”
“So don’t,” you murmur, turning your head to brush your lips over his, “Please Jake?”
I miss you too.
“I…can’t,” he sighs regretfully, squeezing your hips once more before taking a step back, “I’m sorry, darlin’.”
“Let me guess, you’ll make it up to me when November’s over?” Your eyes narrow as you face him, crossing your arms.
He cringes. “Well…yeah.”
You sigh. “Not sure if I’ll even need you anymore, I’m getting pretty used to my vibrator.”
He backs you up against the shelving and cages you in with his arms. “Does your toy fill you up the way I can?” He emphasizes his question with a roll of his hips. “Does it make you cum over and over until you’re trembling and tears fill your pretty eyes? Do you have to beg? Say ‘please’ for it to stop?”
“No,” your answer is soft and breathy. His eyes dip to your lips as you lean in, “but it doesn’t neglect me for a month over a stupid competition either.”
You duck under his arm and try not to laugh at his heavy sigh as you walk away.
🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜
Another week goes by. Bradley calls once and they each text randomly but keep things PG, not taking the bait when you send suggestive ones back either. Or send dirty pictures. Jake just sent you a 🖕🏻 in response to the picture of your hand down the front of your panties and Bradley left you on read when you sent him a photo of your lace-clad bottom, holding the new plug.
No Nut November is more than halfway over but you’re completely over it.
While the night before Thanksgiving is one of the busiest of the year, you took off to finish preparing for the holiday. You’re hosting the Daggers who aren’t going home or don’t have anyone to go home to.
Everything is good to go a little after 9. With a sigh, you begin to pull the apron over your head but pause with an idea.
Wearing nothing but the apron, you take a picture of your reflection; nipples just visible and your hand running up your inner thigh.
You: Everything’s ready for tomorrow. Wanna come over for a taste test?
Next, you turn around, capturing your bare ass and an innocent look.
You: Too bad the turkey is the only thing getting stuffed tonight.
With a sigh you hop in the shower, not realizing you sent the pictures to them both.
🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜
There’s a knock at the front door as you flick off the water.
“Just a second!” You call, wrapping your towel around you tightly.
“It’s Jake,” he calls back, muffled.
“Come in,” you reply. He knows where the spare is, but still knocks out of respect. “I’m just getting out of the shower.”
“What’s up?” You ask as you come out of the bathroom, the pictures already forgotten.
Jake’s leaning against the wall across, waiting.
“I’m here for that taste test,” he hungrily looks over your bare legs as he pushes off the wall.
“What about the bet?” Your breath catches as he weaves his hands into your hair.
“It’s still on,” he answers before capturing your lips in a dizzying kiss.
“But…” you start when he pulls off your lips to find your neck instead, “What are-“
“I’ll take a cold shower after,” he murmurs against the sensitive skin, making you shiver. “I can’t spend another night without yo-making you feel good.”
Your heart stutters at his Freudian slip.
“Okay,” you whisper, leaning back in. Your legs wrap around his waist when he grabs your bare ass and lifts, carrying you into your room before laying you down on the bed, your phone digging into your back.
He rips the towel open as you reach for the phone, tossing it aside without a glance…or noticing that you hit the call button.
“Oh Jake,” you moan loudly, drowning out the sound of Bradley picking up when he doesn’t hesitate to devour you like the starved man he is. Your hands find his hair as he tongues your cunt and tug when he hones in on your clit.
“I’ve missed this sweet pussy,” he sounds as wrecked as you feel as he brings his hand up, pushing two fingers inside you, his hips slowly rutting against the bed, “dreamed about it every fucking night and woke up hard and wanting you every morning.”
“Y-oh,” a needy whine escapes as he curls his fingers against your g-spot, “you poor thing.”
He pulls his fingers out to slap your clit, making you gasp, clenching around nothing. “Don’t be a brat.”
“You could’ve had me,” your fingers tighten in his hair before pulling him back in, “this was your idea.”
Your eyes fall closed and he groans when he puts his mouth on you again. “Stupid fuckin’ idea.”
“Uh-huh,” you agree, panting. “You’re never doing it again. I won’t allow it.”
“What about Roo?”
Your eyes fly open to see him smirking. “W-what about him?”
“Is he allowed to do it again?” He licks a long, slow stripe through your arousal as he waits for your answer.
You swallow thickly, before slowly shaking your head. “Nope.”
He arches his brow but doesn’t reply, instead doubling his efforts. You release the breath you didn’t realize you were holding when his tongue slides up to your clit, circling while he pushes his fingers back inside you.
“Yeah,” you whine, tugging his hair and grinding against his face, “that’s-that’s good. Just like that, Jake. Keep going, I’m close.”
Jake just moans as you use him. His hips rutting harder but his mouth and fingers keep the same, sweet rhythm until you’re teetering on the edge of release.
But then he gently sucks your clit into his mouth and that’s all it takes to push you over. Your hands pull his hair as your back arches, legs wrapping around his head as you ride out the waves of pleasure.
A low, guttural groan is ripped from his throat as you writhe against him, the sight, the taste and the sounds of your release proving to be too much.
“Fuck,” he pants, resting his head on your trembling thigh with a grimace, “I just lost.”
“You lo-what?” The ability to think straight left when the first brush of his tongue.
“I just came in my fuckin’ pants,” he sighs, his arms shaking as he lifts himself to his knees. Your eyes drop to the wet spot staining his jeans, “I lost.”
A breathy laugh escapes as your toes run over his still semi-hard cock, “Sorry?”
“No you’re not,” he sighs, his eyes darkening, “but you will be.”
The air is pushed from your lungs as he flips you onto your stomach, slapping your ass so hard tears spring to your eyes.
“Hey!” You scrabble to get away from the assault but his hand between your shoulders pushes you back down, “It’s not my fault! I didn’t even touch you!”
“You didn’t,” he agrees, slapping the other ass cheek equally as hard, “but you did tease me at the bar, and send me dirty pictures and-“
“I won’t tell Roo if you won’t!” You rush out when his hand leaves your ass presumably to spank you again.
“It’s a little late for that.”
Both of your heads whip toward your bedroom door where Bradley’s standing, clad in that gaudy Hawaiian print he wears so well, his erection obvious against the confines of the tight-as-sin jeans.
He also knows where your spare is.
His eyes rake over your naked body, smirking as he holds his phone up for the both of you to see. The color leaves your face as you see your name reflected on the screen.
He’s been listening the whole time.
🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜🚫🥜
A/N: Hope you enjoyed part 1! Part 2 should be along in the next few days. Spoiler: the turkey is NOT the only thing getting stuffed ��
Tagging a few I think may be interested:
@callsigns-haze
@writtingrose
@blindedbythelightt
@phoenix-rising-starbird-one
@dizzybee03
@shanimallina87
@lexixstewart
@hookslove1592
@jessicab1991
@livzblog
@carolina-on-my-mind03
@racerchix21
@that-one-fangirl69
@mrsbradshaw-seresin01
@sydneejean
@xoxabs88xox
@midnightmagpiemama
@its-the-pilot
@kmc1989
@psuedochakra
@fandomology101
@kneelforloki
@djs8891
@mavrellover91
@hotch-meeeeeuppppp
@seitmai
@emerald-jade1
@alwayshave-faith
@thespillingvoid
@glenpowellluver
@lunatygerqueen
@bigstrongpowellheart
@ahotmesswithprivilege
207 notes · View notes
lovebugism · 8 hours ago
Text
Tumblr media
✶ ┄ HOLY GRAIL !
summary: in ancient rome, where survival is determined by the whims of a mad ruler, the empire's beloved general gives you – his first and only love – to the crazed emperor to ensure your safety. (6k)
pairing: marcus acacius / fem!reader, emperor geta / fem!reader
contents: established relationship, strangers to lovers, angst, hurt/comfort cw for mentions of war and violence, mentions of sex work, swearing, smut 18+ (dubcon, m receiving oral, unprotected sex, cuckholding, exhibitionism) (this is a pretty dark fic so pls heed the warnings!!!)
Tumblr media
Marcus Acacius was the name on the lips of a thousand fallen empires. His ledger ran a deep scarlet color, which dripped like proof from his sword. The war had destroyed the General over the years — had turned the man into an empty thing filled only by untamable ghosts. The relentless battle had wrung his boyhood from his body like a slow, merciless death. Any remaining innocence has since been replaced with violence.
Rome made a legacy of his grotesque evils, turned him into a saint. Marcus Acacius did not want to be a saint. He did not want to be angry; he did not want to be cruel. He only wanted to love and to be left alone with his tenderness. His mouth filled with blood instead.
You loved him like all doomed, grotesque things are meant to be loved. In the dark. In the shadows of war. In the depths of the soul.
“This is me,” he confesses, the great General Acacius, returning to you like a ghost to its haunt. “This is who I am.”
His golden armor is sullied from a victorious battle, tainted now with blotches of soil and dried blood that’s not his own. His dirtied, unholy fists tremble at his sides as he fights the urge to cross the threshold of your quarters to meet you. Marcus knows he doesn’t deserve to be held by you now. Not when he still wreaks of death.
He can still feel the breath of a fist on his bruised cheek, but the way his sword felt plunging through the beating heart of an enemy soldier plagues him most of all. 
“Love turned on me long ago— It is not a burden I compel you to carry.”
So, please, do not love me, he doesn’t say. I only know how to destroy you.
You smile at him, eyes soft with sympathy, and cross the threshold of longing with an admirable effortlessness. You cradle his weathered, war-torn face in your palms, willingly staining your delicate hands with the blood stained there.
“I love you despite. So I imagine I’ll carry it anyway,” you coo to him, gentle eyes locked firmly with his heavy ones. “And I’m certain you love me in return, regardless of what you think the siege has made of you.”
“There is naught I can do about it,” Marcus admits, words heavy with choked-back emotion. He melts into your touch but continues to deny himself the want to hold you back. “Not while I still oversee this campaign. Not while there is a war to be won—”
“We love each other, don’t we?” you interject, pleading eyes searching for emotion behind his dark, stoic gaze. Marcus swallows hard. His scruffy chin scrapes your palm as he nods once in response. You grin and say the unforgiving truth out loud. “So fuck the war.”
You pull him down by his face to press a kiss to his unclean lips. Marcus rests his shaking hands over your waist and lets you build cathedrals in his mouth with your tongue. The blood in his teeth turns to holy water. 
Tumblr media
Marcus long understood that bringing you to the city would be his last act of love.
Keeping you in the heart of Rome was the only way he could ensure your safety, with the surrounding towns still under merciless siege. The people there were docile, and loyal most of all to the General who had won them a thousand wars. They would not hurt you because it was not in their kind too, and because they feared General Acacius’ wrath as much as they respected his mercy.
This was known to everyone in Rome except its Emperors.
Geta and Caracalla ruled together following their father’s untimely demise but shared not a brain between them. They were boys, after all, the oldest being hardly two-and-twenty –– it was in their nature to talk more than they listened, and to pretend as if they knew the world despite never leaving the city walls. 
They were as cruel and as stupid as anyone who wished to rule an empire would be.
But the two of them relied heavily on their General to keep the restless public at ease. It made it easier for Marcus to bring you with him, knowing he had the trust of the most powerful men in Rome. He knew Geta kept meticulous care of his most precious gifts — all Marcus had to do was get you there, really, and the Emperors would do the rest for him. 
It was simple, but it was not easy; though he imagines no war ever has been or would be. Both of you had survived, yes, but neither of you had been spared. Bringing you here was a testament to that, which you seemingly could not comprehend. You were as soft and green as the countryside he plucked you from, too naive for politics.
Marcus tells himself that this was the merciful decision, anyway, as he gives you a tour of Caracalla’s labyrinthine gardens — the place farthest from the feasting hall where the noblemen dined. Hidden behind climbing leaves, free from prying eyes.
“I can’t imagine why you would be so apprehensive in bringing me here. It’s beautiful,” you marvel aloud as you walk ahead of the man guiding you. 
Your sandals pad faintly along the cobbled trail as you skim your palm over the bed of blooming roses. The petals feel like silk against your skin. You pluck one from the soil, careful to avoid its thorns, and hold it up to your nose. You turn to face Marcus with the crimson flower resting on your cupid’s bow.
“And it smells better, too,” you quip softly, tilting your head to your shoulder as you smirk behind the budding rose.
Marcus just barely manages to bite back his own grin until you reach out for him, tapping the delicate flower against the bridge of his strong nose. He exhales hard through his nostrils in place of a laugh.
Your giggling comes carried on the breath of a warm summer breeze — a symphony of salty ocean, dainty florals, and the pretty oils you’d bathed in. The wind billows through your thin, white gown and creates music with rustling leaves. You squint one eye when the setting sun peeks through the swishing tree limbs, bathing you in a golden-hour aura. 
You’re as beautiful as sin. Sweeter than death. Smiling at him like this is the beginning of something that died the moment you entered the city walls.
Marcus clears throat and gently guides your hand away. His cautious eyes flit around the vacant garden. He’s constantly looking over his shoulder, you find, despite being the strongest man in all of Rome. You feel safest at his side, so you don’t know why he always looks so frightened.
“I know you are drunk on youth and immortality, petal, but we cannot get ahead of ourselves,” he advises, all stiff and stern, though the term of endearment spills effortlessly from his mouth. “We’re in the city now. So we must play the part. Like we discussed.”
He speaks to you with an unintentional sort of vagueness that makes you bow your head like a scolded child. Your arm falls limp at your side. A scarlet petal slips from its stem and hits the unforgiving stone.
“I know,” you murmur with a poorly hidden frown that conveys otherwise. Your sheepish gaze flits from the ground to Marcus’ unwavering stare and to the ground again. “I just thought— whenever we were alone, that we might—”
“We aren’t alone. We must behave as though the city is full of eyes. Understand?”
“I can’t,” you confess, peering up at the General from beneath your lashes. 
Marcus’ chest stings, like the fiery sun blazing his newly-fashioned armor. “What do you mean you can’t?” he bites emotionlessly.
He looks like a corrupt sort of angel in this light, unnaturally handsome and hopelessly wartorn. He was as hard as the earth below your feet — a statue made of clay, iron, and marble — cold to the touch and melting only for you. 
His heavy eyes were so brown they looked almost black, and they shone with a perpetual sort of gloom. His gaze swam with the prophetic darkness of a man who’s seen too much, though you often felt like you could drown in its void. For a man so adept at killing, he looked at you with a remarkable softness.
It wasn’t as shallow as physical desire. It was something far more cruel. You wanted Marcus Acacius the same way flesh wanted to knit itself together over a healing wound. It was simply in your nature to love him. 
“I mean, it’s impossible,” you ramble with a concerned furrow to your brow. Your grip on the flower’s papery stem tightens until the bulb rattles with the force. “How am I to be here with you but not touch you? That’s like asking the seasons not to change— It’s unnatural, and it’s cruel—”
Marcus swallows hard, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. His hands begin to ache with the urge to touch you. He balls them into fists instead.
“It’s the only way I know to keep you safe!” he confesses, words sounding heavy in his mouth. His eyes flit across the garden in a paranoid search of something that isn’t there. “Emperor Geta will take care of you. I know he will. And his brother is a half-wit, but he is kind when he wishes. He’ll take a liking to you, I’m sure of it—”
You interject his anxious rambling with a stubborn shake of your head.
“I can’t be someone else’s,” you murmur, voice as wet as the tears glittering in your wide-eyed gaze. “I don’t know how.”
“You will learn,” Marcus tells you with an emotionless stare. Not because he’s sure you will, but because he knows you have to. “For me.”
Your pretty features swirl with anguish. “Marcus…” you whisper his name in a feeble whimper caught in your throat.
He does not soften at your emotion like you’re used to. He’s practiced apathy for so long that it comes naturally to him now. He bites his tongue to keep from kissing you and lets the blood stain his teeth all over again.
“If not for your own sake, then for mine. The Emperors would have my head if they understood the pretenses I brought you under.”
You flinch at his words, perhaps finally understanding the weight of the unforgiving world in which you live. The surest example of such cruelty stands before you now, in the only man you ever loved now using your purest devotion as a means to keep you pliant. But your anger for the merciless arrangement is long eclipsed by your yearning.
“Then I will,” you tell him, rigid with a glacial disposition Marcus hasn’t seen before now.
The choices here were few. Either you were slaughtered outside the city walls by soldiers and pillagers, or you were slaughtered within them — in the metaphorical sense that burns physically in your chest now. 
Being without Marcus feels like a fate worse than death, but you want him so desperately to live. So much so that you’ll fall on the sword of your longing and bleed out at his feet. Knowing that you’re under the same sky would have to be enough for you. 
You can’t tell which it is — sacrifice or self-slaughter — but Marcus knows it isn’t as poetic as all that. 
Death is death.
Tumblr media
Emperor Geta staggers drunkenly down the spiral stone steps of the west wing of his castle. The path to his chambers is illuminated by several dwindling torches hung along the brick walls. The subtle squeaking of his leather sandals sounds much louder in the quiet — filled only by crackling flames, a distant dripping noise, and the song he slurs under his breath. 
The latter ceases suddenly when he stumbles to a stop at the sight of General Acacius. The man stands like a statue outside his bedroom door — arms crossed behind his back, old spine perfectly straight — like the obedient guard dog he is. 
The thought makes the Emperor’s lips curl into a crooked smile. “What are you doing here, dog?” he calls to the General as he approaches him, voice echoing down the soulless corridor.
“Your nameday present, your majesty—” Marcus answers and tries not to make a face when the Emperor stands before him. The bittersweet scent of wine stains his breath, overwhelmingly so. Geta was never one to practice temperance. “—I was told to see that you got it.”
The younger man hesitates. “From my uncle?” he wonders aloud.
Marcus nods wordlessly in response.
Geta pauses for a moment. His wide, glassy eyes flit over the General’s shoulder to the arched doorway behind him. His stomach swirls at the thought of what may lie inside. The last nameday present his uncle sent from overseas was a monkey his younger brother has grown much too attached to.
“Well… What is it?”
Marcus swallows hard and steps aside. “Look inside, your majesty.”
Geta takes a deep breath in and swings the creaking door open. His bedroom is lush with crimson silk and golden candlelight, familiarly fragranced with cinnamon and sweet myrrh. It’s accompanied by something foreignly floral, a feminine rosy-lavender that catches his attention before his eyes ever find you.
He steps through the threshold and finds a strange girl standing by the window, before a platter of fruit and wine — bathed half in the silver beams of a full moon, and half in flickering orange flames. 
White silk adorns your frame, so delicate it’s nearly see-through. One of your shoulders is mouthwateringly bare, and there’s a slit in the fabric that rises to your hip. You look as pure as a dove, though you’re so obviously built for sin.
The ground sways beneath Geta’s unsteady feet.
You crunch audibly into an apple before you realize anyone’s there. The juice runs down your chin before you swipe it away with the back of your hand. Only then do your eyes lock with the Emperor’s, who seems equally stunned to see you there. You tense and say nothing as you hide the bitten fruit behind your back.
“It’s a woman,” Geta observes to no one in particular, though his dark eyes have not yet wavered from yours.
Marcus stands behind him and nods — hands still clasped behind his back, heart still pounding against his ribcage. “Yes, your majesty. In plain terms.”
“Well,” the Emperor glances over his shoulder. “What does she do?”
“Whatever you want,” the General answers, though the words taste like vinegar on his tongue. He swallows the bitterness down like bile and leers at you, looking upon his lover as though she were a stranger. “You need only ask.”
Geta, satisfied by his answer, turns back to you. His initial surprise has ebbed into something more pleased, diabolically so. His pink lips curl into a sneer as he walks slowly towards you, eyeing you up and down with curious eyes — a predator stalking its prey.
“Is that true?” he asks you, voice ringing through the quiet room. “Or is he confusing you for a dutiful hound?”
“A dutiful whore, your majesty,” you correct with an acquiescent smile, following the story as Marcus intended. 
The half-truth comes easily to you. Not a lie exactly, but not the whole tale either. You’d spent many of your years working in a brothel on the outskirts of Rome. You were a young woman, unmarried, without family or viable prospects — whoring seemed the most obvious decision then, though it feels so long ago now. 
You’d waited your whole life for something, for Marcus, though you hadn’t expected it to kill you when you found it. You won’t die a saint if the crazed Emperor decides to take your head, but perhaps you could be a martyr. Perhaps that’ll be enough.
Fear beats through your body like a second heart, but your eyes never waver from the Emperor’s. It’s easiest to meet his gaze. He feels more like a human that way. 
There are flecks of gold in his dark eyes, and dark strands in his gold hair. He’s got stubble on his long neck, spots on his broad nose, and wrinkles on his forehead. Not quite as perfect as the pristine white-gold armor would let on.
His eyes flit down your form once more. Something sparks in the deep brown of them, a flicker of silent realization. He spins suddenly on the heel of his sandal to flash Marcus an accusatory glare.
“Is she your whore, General?” he lilts into the heavy silence. His brows raise when he receives no answer from the man across the room. “The question was not rhetorical, Acacius.”
“No, your majesty. She is not mine,” Marcus answers, then clears his throat when the words get stuck there. It’s like he’s plunging a knife through his own heart. He can feel the cold sting of the sharpened blade and the burn of the blood on his skin. “Though, I don’t believe whores belong to anyone.”
A boyish chuckle spills from the Emperor’s mouth. “No. They don’t,” he says with an airy giddiness. “Not before now, anyway—”
Geta spins back again, pleated skirt fanning around his pale thighs. His smile fades with an eerie swiftness. “What are you waiting for? Undress,” he commands with a wave of his ringed hand.
Your wide eyes flit instinctively past him to Marcus, who still idles in the doorway. Only then does he realize how long he’s been staring at you. He forces himself to glance off in another direction, but his gaze keeps finding yours — like a magnet, or a planet with its own gravitational pull.
Your eyes lock, and the only thing you hear is each other, though neither of you has spoken a word. This is the only way, you hear his voice in your head as clearly as your own. This is the only way to stay together. The only way to survive.
Geta mistakes your fear.
“Don’t worry about him, little dove,” he coos, and taps the bottom of your chin with his fingers — as soft and petaled as your own. He smiles when your attention turns to him again, speaking loud enough for the General to hear. “He’s only the guard dog. And good boys get scraps, don’t they, Acacius?”
Marcus’ face screws like he’s tasted something sour. He’s grateful the Emperor isn’t looking at him to see it. “They do, your majesty,” he monotones.
“So you will watch. And report to my uncle how his lovely present fared,” he calls to the older man, though his eyes remain locked with yours. You tense when his pale hand reaches suddenly for your face. He holds your cheeks in his fingers until your lips jut in a soft pout. “Let’s hope I don’t have to send him back your head, little dove.”
He says it with an absentminded effortlessness, as though it’s something he’s done before. 
Still, you manage a small smile and blink up at him with innocent eyes. “What good is a dead whore, your majesty?” you quip.
Geta’s grin widens.  “Precisely. Now undress.”
You reach for the singular sleeve of your slip with trembling fingers. Your right hand sweeps across your left shoulder, skin blazing with fear and anticipation. The fabric trails down down down your arm before falling to your feet in a puddle of milky white silk. Your bare body glows silver and gold between moonlight and flame. 
Goosebumps pebble over your skin despite the humid summer night as Geta circles you like prey. His eyes trail slowly down your form in time with his rhythmic steps. The sound of his sandals scrapping the stone floor, crackling candlelight, and subdued breathing are the only sounds in the quiet room for several long moments.
The Emperor disappears behind you, and you forget how to breathe. Your wide, wet eyes find Marcus once more — pleading, though for what, you cannot say. His face reveals nothing but wrath burns in his gaze.
Geta reappears at your right side. You smell grape wine on his breath when he nears you, breathing heavily through his mouth as he reaches out to touch you. His ringed hands smooth over your collarbone. Your breath catches in your throat. He smiles as though your fright pleases him.
“You’re skittish for a whore,” he muses, playful in a way that makes your stomach wrench. “Are you sure the General didn’t bring me a virgin?”
You swallow hard as his hand trails down your body. Over the swell of your breast, skimming his thumb over your taut nipple, before tracing the expanse of your ribs. His fingers run down your stomach and past the thatch of hair between your legs. They dip finally between your thighs. 
Geta hums a faint moan at the velvet feeling of your pussy. The way your lips part for his fingers, silky skin warm and wet to the touch. 
“I’m whatever you want me to be, your majesty,” you answer, breathing hard through your nose when he pulls his hand away — a warmth you find yourself begrudgingly grieving.
“I need only ask…” the Emperor coos, running his middle and pointer finger over your bottom lip. They shine with the honey you leak despite yourself. Your mouth parts, and he rests the pads of them on your tongue. “…Do I not?”
You nod wordlessly through the salty fingers in your mouth, trying to imagine their Marcus’.
Geta smiles when he parts from you. “Undress me,” he demands. 
You work at his tricky armor with nervous hands and bated breath. 
You unclasp his cape first. The white fabric, now free from its chain, falls heavily to the floor behind him. Your fingers have gone noticeably clammy as they struggle with the sleeves of his tunic. It takes you a beat too long to loosen the laces at his shoulders. The cloth falls finally and puddles around his feet, leaving his lean body on display before you.
His torso is lean and mostly hairless, save for splotches of chestnut on his sternum and stomach. His skin is smooth and flushed from the alcohol. His stomach is slim but noticeably full. The Emperor is well-taken care of, though his subjects outside the keep suffer from the consequences of war.
Your trembling fingers curl around the hem of his loincloth. His pale skin is warm to the touch, boiling with desire while you freeze over with fear. You crouch before him as you drag the garment down his scruffy thighs. You hear Geta sigh above you when his half-hard cock meets the cool summer night air. 
He’s paler there compared to the rest of his golden body, though the mushroom tip glows a faint strawberry-red color. A vein trails in jagged lines to the base of his heavy cock, fading as it reaches the thatch of dark blonde hair at his pubic bone. He’s not nearly as thick as Marcus, though not many people could hope to be — but he is long and thin and soft like velvet.
“How do I look?” Geta wonders as he steps out of his loincloth. He tilts his chin to his chest to peer down at you, on your knees to untie the intricate laces of his sandals. You blink up at him with wide, uncertain eyes. “Without my armor,” he adds, then repeats. “How do I look?”
You realize, then, that he wants your praise. Though you’re unsure why, you’re not in any position to deny him of it. “You’re a— a very handsome man, your majesty,” you respond cautiously, with a wavering smile.
You hear his breath catch at the compliment. The corner of his mouth flickers upward, and his nostril flares as he takes a deep breath in. 
“Well, go on, then,” he insists suddenly, nodding his head to egg you onward. “Good whores don’t keep their masters waiting, do they? You don’t want to see me impatient, little dove.”
You wrap his stiff cock in a tentative fist, averting your gaze as you give an experimental kitten lick to the bulbous, strawberry tip. Your tongue swipes away the pearlescent pre-cum beading there. The salty tang is foreign on your tongue, sweeter and thicker than you’re used to.
You imagine your lover when you take the Emperor’s cock in your mouth. A practiced form of dissociation that comes naturally to you now. 
You focus on the way the stone floor digs into your knees as you cup his balls in your hand — a desperate attempt to finish him quickly. Geta shudders when you swallow him whole, burying your nose in the coarse thatch of hair at the base of his cock. His head tips back as he groans at the ceiling.
“You are a proper whore…” the Emperor moans with a delirious smile. He tilts his flushed cheek to his freckled shoulder to sneer at Marcus, then frowns when his eyes meet the back of him. “Are you distracted, General?”
The man keeps his back turned and his eyes trained on the wall, counting the bricks there to distract his racing mind. His mouth snarls at the Emperor’s words. His hands ball into fists as he fights to keep his composure.
“Just giving you your privacy, your majesty.”
“Nonsense!” Geta laughs, loud. “You should watch! You should observe— so you know what to tell my uncle.”
Marcus can hear the mischievous lilt in the younger boy’s voice. Like it’s all just a game to him. Like you’re just a whore to be played with, and like Marcus’ only hope of companionship is warfare. Both might’ve been true once, but not since you find each other.
The general smacks his lips against his teeth. “As you wish,” he deadpans and spins on the heel of his sandal.
He’s strangely grateful to find the Emperor’s body obscuring your own. Geta’s lean, pale form towers over your kneeling one — back muscles flexing, hips thrusting, fingers knitting in your hair.
But Marcus can still hear the sounds of your mouth on the other man’s cock. The room fills with heavy breathing, wet noises, and the Emperor’s unabashed whines. Embers of envy burn in the General’s empty chest. A wildfire of want and wrath rages behind his ribcage.
You swallow with Geta’s cock in your throat and squeeze softly at his balls. You hear his breath hitch just before a lengthy moan spills from his parted mouth. Several loads of salty cum spit down your throat a second later. The man shows you little mercy as he holds you by your hair, keeping your nose pressed to his pubic bone. You take shallow breaths through your nose and try not to choke.
You pull off of him when he lets you go. A string of saliva threatens to keep you connected. You take a deep breath in and swipe at your swollen mouth with the back of your hand, staying on your knees while the Emperor tilts his head back. He exhales a breathy laugh of relief at the ceiling. You peer up at him with wide, wet eyes, still so uncertain of your fate.
“Proper whore, indeed,” Geta muses, almost to himself, as he drops his heavy head once more. 
His flushed chest sparkles with a foreign feeling at the sight of you beneath him — eyes teary and fearful, lips swollen and rosy, features flushed with sweat and sex. His cock jerks, still sensitive but threatening to harden again. He grips himself with a loose fist.
“On the bed,” he instructs suddenly, then grins madly at your shock. “You didn’t think I was done with you, surely. Not until I mount you like a mare, anyway— Treat you like the bitch in heat you are…”
Geta cups your warm cheek in his free hand. His touch is strangely gentle as he cradles you there, right before he smacks gently at your jaw to urge you upward. 
Your bare feet pad towards the bed, then. Geta swats your ass as you go and laughs when you squeak in response. You fight the urge to look at Marcus, lest you see the rage burning in his eyes — lest he see the heartbreak swimming in yours. 
Marcus watches you crawl over the silken sheets, both of you sporting similar far-off gazes. He feels a bit like a ghost now. An empty, invisible thing, doomed to watch the rest of the world go on without ever being able to live in it. It’s dreadfully symbolic of how he’s lived most of his life, and how he’s spent the years loving you. Because even if a ghost is full of love, the only thing it knows to do is haunt.
The silk pillow feels cool under your burning cheek. The mattress dips under the Emperor’s weight when he kneels behind you. His ringed fingers smooth over your ass and down the arch of your back. He treats you with an uncharacteristic sort of tenderness, as though he were molding you out of clay.
“You are a pretty thing, aren’t you?” he whispers under his breath. “And timid, too… I like that…” 
Your pussy clenches at his words despite yourself. Geta’s chest swells with pride accordingly. “You don’t have to be scared, little dove. I’m going to take such good care of you.”
Despite his words, he does not bother to ready you for his cock when he positions himself at your pulsing entrance. You hadn’t expected him to, of course — not many men were as kind as Marcus in that way, who often treated your pleasure as if it were his own. But the slick sticking to your thighs has made your pussy more than pliant. Your velvet walls swallow Geta’s cock with a pulsing vigor.
The Emperor groans as he fucks into you, savoring every inch as he buries himself to the hilt. His ringed fingers dig into the plush of your waist, as though you were a toy he didn’t want getting snatched away.
“Look at the hound!” Geta giggles boyishly to himself. “He’s itching for a feel of you— I just know it.”
Marcus remains as still and stoic as the battalion trained him to be. He reveals nothing on his face, though his skin prickles with flames of envy beneath his armor. 
Marcus Acacius was not a jealous man. His love for you was a testament to that. He visited the brothel you boarded in and spared the same coins as every man in the establishment did. But it was different now. Because the Emperor does not deserve you, and he forces Marcus to watch as if he knows it, too.
Something within him seethes, like a feral animal trapped behind his ribcage, desperately clawing its way out.
“Look at him,” Geta snaps when he sees you staring at the wall, eyes glassy and glazed over. He’s grinning all over again when your gaze snaps to Marcus’. 
The soldier’s weathered eyes burn with tears then. General Acacius has faced death a thousand times over, but it wasn’t quite as heartwrenching as this. His wrath simmers to a boil. He swallows it down like fire.
This is her salvation, he tells himself. This is how she survives.
Your features twist with the anguish of being seen as the Emperor lays himself over your back. His slick chest sits flush with your spine, pinning you to the mattress. “I bet he can taste you now. Smell you,” he murmurs in your ear, chapped mouth brushing the shell of it. “His mouth is salivating at the thought of putting his tongue on you— Isn’t it, dog?”
Marcus swallows through the emotion threatening to strangle him. He blinks away stinging tears and feigns an air of nonchalance. “It would be… impolite to talk so brashly about something that doesn’t belong to me, your majesty,” the General responds. Obedient. Loyal like a hound.
Geta grins wide. “Good answer, Acacius.”
When the Emperor finally fucks into you, it’s with a sloppy sort of precision. There is no rhythm or care to his thrusts. He is led only by his blinding pleasure, like a man who has only ever fucked playthings and his own fist. He props himself on one forearm and curls the other beneath you, holding your breast in his ringed hand.
Geta’s flushed cheek presses against your own while he slides in and out and into you again. You hear his groaning as you feel it rumbling in his chest, still laid against your back. You stare at a framed portrait on the wall across the room and wait for it to be over, even as your body refuses to dismiss its simmering orgasm.
Your swollen clit ruts against the silk sheets with each of the Emperor’s sloppy thrusts. You can feel a wet spot forming beneath you, and your stomach twists at the thought of seeing proof of your own pleasure. 
His balls smack your leaking cunt, creating a symphony of lewd noises — moaning, whimpering, clapping, smacking. Marcus thinks the sounds of war were more merciful than this.
“Do you understand what that means, little dove?” Geta croons into your ear, words choppy through his labored breaths and irregular thrusts. “You belong— to me now… So whatever you used to be— whoever’s you used to be— no longer matters.”
He thrusts once, hard, and shudders above you with a choked-back groan. You grit your teeth to swallow down your own noises of pleasure. The assault on your clit, though unintentional, is still yet relentless. You feel the distant white-hot burning feeling begin to swell in the pit of your stomach. A coil about to snap.
“Fucking me— Making me feel good—” the Emperor pants, punctuated by his hips against your ass. “—Is your only duty now. Understand?”
You nod, cheek running over the silk cushion as you grip it in your fists. “Yes, your majesty,” you gasp.
Geta presses his smile to the apple of your cheek. He can feel you leaking around him. You’re enjoying this just as much as he is, to be sure. A proper whore, indeed.
“Now… Take my spend like a good bitch, and thank me for it—”
He fucks you harder, and your face twists with a pleasure you’re too weak to fight away. 
Your gaze falls instinctively to Marcus as your orgasm threatens to swallow you whole. Your eyes squeeze shut in a feeble attempt to hide. Your mouth parts with a silent moan as you cum around the Emperor’s cock.
“Thank you, your majesty,” you whimper obediently into the pillow as you tremble beneath him. “Thank you.”
Geta buries a whine in your neck when he cums again. He gives you only two pitiful, warm loads but still possesses more stamina than your Marcus. He stills, then shudders, then rests his unforgiving bodyweight on top of you when pleasure makes a puddle of him. And of you, you assume, as a mixture of your spend leaks out of your cunt and onto the sheets.
“Write to my uncle, Acacius—” Geta slurs into your skin, heavy through labored pants. “—A thank you for my nameday present.”
Marcus forgets, until then, that he can still be seen. He felt more akin to a corpse hidden in the walls, forced to spend his afterlife in a merciless purgatory. His heart has stopped beating, frozen over, and now sits dead in his chest. He will never be as gentle as he was with you. He will be bloodied knuckles and pulsing wounds. Rough and cruel and angry.
“Yes, your majesty,” the General nods, thankful that it’s over now.
Geta rolls off of your body and onto the empty spot beside you — not shy about his nude form or yours. The sudden lack of warmth makes you shiver. 
“And tell him to send another— To keep the General’s bed warm, too,” he says, patting your ass with his palm before smoothing tenderly over the skin. “One whore’s as good as any other, I’m sure.”
Marcus flinches at the thought of being with anyone other than you. He couldn’t hide the look of disgust if he tried. It makes the Emperor laugh loudly in response.
“Oh, did you— Did you want to try this one?” Geta muses knowingly, pointing to your limp body, still trembling beside him with the aftershocks of your orgasm.
“No. No, no, no— See, this one’s mine,” he corrects the General as if he were a child. “And it would be impolite to touch something that belongs to me, would it not? It would be treasonous, even.”
“Yes, your majesty,” Marcus nods, lip flickering in a mere hint of a smirk as his plan finally comes to fruition. “It would be.”
The Emperor sees you now as his property, and no one hurts what belongs to him without meeting a certain death. Marcus is comforted only by the thought that nothing can touch you now. Not even him. But perhaps that’s the price he pays for love. Perhaps, in the end, love is grief.
“So best tread lightly, Acacius,” Geta warns with a crooked smile, petting you like a dog. “I’d hate for someone to get hurt.”
Tumblr media
223 notes · View notes
whoreforsexymen · 1 day ago
Text
The VIP Booth | Vander Smut Oneshot 🫗🤎
Tumblr media
(Gif creds: me <3)
Pairings: Husband!Vander x Wife!Reader
Pronouns: Fem!Pronouns
Rating: NSFW, 18+, MDNI !! You WILL be blocked! 🤺
Word Count: 3.1k (whoops. got carried away with storybuilding)
Tags: Cunnilingus, Fingering, Face Fucking, Finger Sucking, Hair Pulling, Semi-Public Sexual Acts, Established Relationship, etc.
Summary: You coax your husband into eating you out in the only private area The Last Drop has to offer.
Notes: AAAA!! Idk if this idea is ANY GOOD but it came to me in a moment of delusion. The last bit was probably a little rushed, too. SORRYYYY. I’ll make it up to yall later.
Also, tell me I’m wrong when I say that Vander will go to any length to eat some pussy. Do it, cowards. I dare you. YOU KNOW JUST AS WELL AS I DO THAT THIS MAN WOULD HAPPILY DIE WITH HIS FACE IN BETWEEN A PAIR OF THIGHS.
Asks/Request fics are coming soon, as well as a few more special treats for y’all!! Enjoy, my lovelies, & stay tuned. 🤍
Tumblr media
(I can see you, minors!! Get outta here 🤺🤺. BACK! BACK, I SAY!)
Inside the walls of The Last Drop, there was one booth unlike any other—a private, exclusive spot tucked away behind the bustling central room. It was a booth reserved for those willing to pay for top-tier service, offering a secluded escape from the usual chaos of the bar’s environment. But as co-owner of The Last Drop—and wife to the main owner—you didn’t need to fork out any cash to reserve it. Especially not on a night like this. No—tonight, luck was on your side. The booth had gone unclaimed by any paying customer.
Truthfully, the undeniably significant feature were its curtains. The enormous maroon tapestries that enveloped the entrance ensured complete privacy, shielding it from prying eyes. After all, that’s what made it the VIP booth—an oasis of solitude amidst the drunken chaos of the crowd.
With the booth left unreserved, its privacy ensuring a rare moment of seclusion, and the crowd blissfully distracted by their own drunken revelry, the opportunity was simply too perfect to pass up. You had concocted a devilish plan—one that had been simmering in your mind all night. It wasn’t just about messing with your husband—it was about messing around with him.
Your overwhelming desire for your husband was impossible to ignore on any given day, but tonight, it seemed even more intense—an insatiable hunger that gnawed at you, its cause elusive and beyond your comprehension. Whatever the reason, it gripped you with a force you couldn't obstruct, leaving you restless and consumed by pure unadulterated lust.
This, naturally, allowed your plan to unfold effortlessly, as if guided by an invisible hand, bringing it closer to fruition.
To carry out your devious plan, you had carefully cultivated the trust of one of the few individuals who worked for you and Vander. They weren’t exactly employees in the traditional sense, but rather a handful of people you kept on the fringes, offering a few coins in exchange for their occasional assistance. Their loyalty was fleeting, bought with small tokens, but it was enough to serve your purpose. Especially in a moment such as this. A seemingly crucial one—at that.
You kept things vague, framing your request as though it were purely concerning a business discussion needing to be had. You asked your employee to discreetly inform your husband that someone was calling him from behind the velvet curtains of the VIP booth. You also made it clear that the employee should mirror your discretion, avoiding any mention of your name or your connection to him.
The employee appeared curious, even somewhat uneasy, at first. That was, however, prior to you slipping a generous cash bonus their way, eliciting their cooperation without room for protest.
"Go on, please," you plead with your unsuspecting employee, your voice laced with a blend of urgency and excitement. "But remember—don’t tell him it’s me."
As the employee slips into the bustling crowd, you struggle to contain the surge of excitement building within you, all while fighting to maintain a sultry—yet composed, demeanor. You adjust your hair, breasts, and clothing, making subtle moves to enhance your allure and mystery. Every gesture is deliberate, designed to keep you as collected and captivating as possible, cultivating an air of intrigue about you as you desperately await the arrival of your beloved husband.
They fulfilled your agreement as you waited—approaching their boss and informing him that someone had entered the VIP booth, insisting on speaking with him directly.
"VIP booth? Thought nobody booked it tonight," Vander remarks, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms over his chest as he takes a moment to process the information. Normally, you were the one who handled the VIP booth, and he’d have gladly passed this task off to you—if the employee hadn’t mentioned that the VIP “customer” specifically requested Vander. Looks like he’d have to put on a more hospitable facade and give them what they wanted.
If only he knew just what this "customer" truly wanted from him.
After a series of grunts, groans, and huffs, Vander finally made his way to the booth. After forcing a welcoming smile onto his face, he slowly pushed aside the curtains.
"Sorry for the wait. You wanted to speak to the owner—"
His voice faltered, trailing off faster than it had taken him to summon the words.
You feel your own response threaten to catch in your throat, but you won’t cave. You abandon your nerves.
"Why yes, I did. Although..." you drawl, your tone laced with playful mischief, "...'speak' isn’t exactly at the top of the list of things I want to do to the owner."
Your sultry gaze locks onto his, deliciously teasing. Vander, already an imposing figure, looms even larger from your vantage point in the booth. Seated as you are, you find yourself craning your neck significantly just to meet his eyes, the angle only amplifying his commanding presence.
A slew of unidentifiable emotions cross his face in a mere flash before fading into a singularly—equally mischievous to yours—-expression.
“Well. Seein’ as how you are the VIP patron of the night, how can I oblige you?” He queries, his eyebrow raising once more.
Your heart stutters beneath your breast as his expression shifts, his eyes darkening with a lust-filled intensity that sends a shiver through you. The chemistry between you two never failing to baffle you.
"...Serve me," you murmur, your voice soft yet determined to keep the air thick with seduction.
"And what, if I may be so bold to ask, can I serve you with?" he inquires, his voice dipping low, the provocative edge in his gaze unwavering.
"Your body." you quip, your voice steady despite the flutter of nerves stirring in your gut, desperate to make it quiver.
Vander eyes you carefully for a moment, savoring the way your confidence wavers. He deliberately toys with the knowledge of how easily he can unsettle you, his gaze lingering as if relishing every flicker of hesitation you try to hide. A smirk slowly spreads across his mouth—the very one you ached for—his eyes glinting with an all-knowing, deviously sexy twinge. He nods softly, his hand rising to casually caress his beard as he watches you, the tension thick in the air.
“Mmhmm. I see," he murmurs, his tone laced with teasing amusement. "Who am I, if not a man willing to care for his loyal customers?" He phrases simply, the words carrying a heavy, unspoken promise before he moves, gracefully lowering himself to his knees across from you. There’s a moment of silence, the air thick with anticipation, before he slowly begins to push himself beneath the table that had kept you both apart.
You don’t dare look beneath the table, almost afraid to meet his gaze at this moment, unsure of what you might see on his face now that the situation has shifted. The tension coils tighter, each passing second amplifying the anticipation that overwhelmed your senses.
You practically jump at the brush of his shoulders against your shins as he crawls to them, the rush of anticipation making every nerve in your body jolt. The aching desperation pulling through you draws attention to your core as you feel his strong hands gently caress your legs, the heat of his touch settling on your knees, sending a shiver through you. The way your teeth begin to tug at your bottom lip seemed like the only way you could physically process your eagerness.
Vander remains silent, his hands moving deliberately in opposite directions, the gesture designed to spread your legs—yet he did so with enough force to split you down the middle if he hadn’t been careful enough. It isn’t until he successfully parts them that he speaks again.
“No bottoms? My. What a dirty girl you are, my dear customer. What if someone else had walked in here, hmm? Did you plan on flashing your bits to any bloke who popped his head in?” He teases, practically groaning some of his words, the guttural tone an unintentional yet instinctual reaction to the sight of you so bare—-so clearly prepared for whatever scenario it was you anticipated happening in this little corner of the establishment.
It was obvious to your husband, from the way you were reacting, that the possibility of him crawling under the table to bury his face between your thighs hadn’t even crossed your mind. The surprise and hesitation in your twitches and subtle movements told him everything he needed to know.
The distant, familiar chatter of real customers beyond the thin barrier tightened the knot in your stomach, throwing you into the reality of the moment. It became an unrelenting presence, grounding you in the tension that hung in the air. Meanwhile, the hot, damp breath of your husband seethed against the cold slickness seeping from your cunt, a stark contrast that deepened the unease coursing through you.
A shiver ran up your spine, your body trembling as nervous spasms raked through your bones when he edged even closer—his hair grazing your skin in that familiar way you knew so well. It wasn’t uncommon for your husband to spend most of his time down here, yet no matter how often it happened, the anxiety it stirred within you never waned.
You had an even harder time controlling how your body writhed as you felt the warmth of his tongue flush itself against your sopping heat. Your nails pressed into the soft wood of the table, digging in as you braced yourself, your body jerking. The spasms faltered for a moment, your body going rigid once he started violently lapping his tongue against your aching clit. The abrasing way his beard rubbed against the skin of your thighs sent you into a spiral.
You had expected him to fuck you directly on the table, to take you in the way you were used to—but instead, he toyed with you from beneath it, the unanticipated choice leaving you bewildered. You had been aching for what felt like ages, the desperation almost unbearable. It was a struggle to keep your mouth from parting—your head tilting back, eyes closing as your husband began to ease the tension that had gripped you for so long.
All you wanted was to whimper, to cry out for him, but you couldn’t—not with the patrons so close, just beyond the curtains. If he had only fucked you as you’d expected, he would’ve easily pressed a hand over your mouth to keep you quiet, as he had in similar situations before. But this time, you knew he had chosen this path deliberately, testing whether you could hold your composure.
It was his unspoken way of making you atone for the ploy you used to get him here. He was a patient lover, understanding that even though you had pulled him away from his work—which he didn’t mind as much as he let on—you were just too eager to be patient. Always attuned to your needs, he was more than willing to satisfy the cravings of his most cherished wife, finding joy in fulfilling your desires—no matter the time or place. The absence of his familiar presence behind the bar, and the slight potential for upsetting customers, felt like a small price to pay in exchange for the chance to fully indulge in you. To unravel and claim you in ways only he could.
His tongue was relentless. He sloppily sucked and licked at your needy clit, his nose rubbing against the mound of flesh above as he devoured you. His hands were as equally hungry as his mouth, and in need of something to grab. He manhandles your legs, draping them roughly over his shoulders, his fingers gripping at your plush thighs as he curls his arms around them. In doing so, he pulled you closer, your back slipping against the booth as he guided you down, drawing you nearer to him with a purposeful force. His cock was begging to be set free from its cloth prison as he sunk his tongue deep into the void of your cunt. The rhythmic, wet sounds became a melody more captivating than any song he'd ever heard, especially when paired with the soft mewls of you struggling to stay collected—and most importantly—silent.
You can both hear and feel his laugh against you, a deep, low chuckle that carries a mix of arousal and amusement, vibrating through you with every huff. He found the way he could make you squirm incredibly sexy, the reaction sparking a deep sense of pride within him. There was something about the ease with which he could unsettle you that thrilled him, and he took great satisfaction in knowing how little effort it took. He knew all too well that it only took something as simple as a certain look to have you coming undone—and right now, he was determined to make you come undone. All over his tongue.
Vander knows just how wild his fingers can make you on their own— yet especially so when paired with the mastery of his expertly quick and thoughtful tongue.
He wasted no time in combining the two, intent on making you crack under the pressure. While Vander didn’t particularly want to be caught by patrons, either—or, for that matter, by one of your employees—his desire to make you scream was always his top priority.
He grips your thighs with more gusto than before, continuing to pull them further apart in hopes of expanding his ‘workspace’. He releases one of them, the fingers of that hand moving to replace the tongue that was working its familiar magic inside you. He doesn’t give you so much as a single moment to collect your thoughts as he makes the exchange, effortlessly ramming and curling two up into your cunt as his tongue continues its prior attack on your clit.
You swore you were seeing stars behind your eyelids, your grip on the table faltering just like your efforts to stay in control. You couldn't even attempt to cover your mouth, not with the relentless—yet unintentional—way your hands found their way under the table, tangling in his hair and gripping with enough force to pull some strands loose.
You greedily buck your hips down to meet the thrusting of his digits, pulling his head as far into your cunt as possible. He doesn’t complain. He never would. Maybe it was his own type of preferred masochism, but he’d consider suffocating and perishing in between your legs in this way, a noble death.
Your toes ache from the force with which you’re curling them, your legs clutching and winding around his shoulders and neck like a python.
By now, you had abandoned all caution, hope, and effort to moan quietly. You were practically screaming over the deliciously knowing way he prodded his thick fingers into your cunt. He had long forgotten to move them in and out. He knew exactly what spot drove you mad, and he made his most conscious effort to curl them into it as rapidly and frequently as possible.
As much as Vander adored your cries, they were truly becoming far too loud. He really didn’t want any curious folks to come wandering in to spoil the moment when you were so close to your inevitable peak. He has no choice but to silence you. With the hand that remained on your other thigh, he removed it from its resting place, reaching up from beneath the table as he gazes up at you. With a smirk against your cunt, and his eyes studying how your head was still thrown back against the booth, eyes shut tighter than a steel trap—-he shoves two of his free fingers into your mouth. Your eyes shoot open. You look down at him, earning a wink from your husband as he smirks harder against your cunt. The eye contact was filthy, in the most erotic way possible. It always made you feel slightly awkward, in an oddly arousing way, when you made such a type of contact with him in the heat of a moment like this.
You willingly sucked on his fingers, now understanding the purpose for his actions after a thoughtful moment. He groans against your cunt, luckily the sound being muffled by how much his mouth was buried into it. Your tongue swirls itself rapaciously around the digits, drool falling from your mouth as you did so. Vander simply can’t tear his eyes away from such a sight. He groans more as you lower your own gaze, your expression deadly with seduction. He was almost pissy that both of his hands were occupied at the moment. He was anxious to palm at his cock, desperate to find friction of his own now.
His tongue and lips were still working their relentless job on your clit, suckling every few seconds amidst the slurping. The way his facial hair brushes against it every now and then almost sends you into hysterics—bordering on a full blown frenzy.
Your legs are quaking, twitching and spasming with every harsh lick to your clit. It was so sensitive, you couldn’t help how it shocked your nerves, causing them all to fire simultaneously. Electricity burned in your veins, desperate to chase your orgasm as it made your hips flick against his mouth faster than he could lap at you.
Your orgasm burrowed itself into the pit of your stomach, commanding you to follow it down to your cunt.
It didn’t take much longer for you to keel over the edge of your impending climax. It burst through you, your legs clamping shut around his face—a move which Vander was used to by now—-hips mindlessly gyrating against his face as you brutally cum around his fingers. Vander can feel your walls clenching and relaxing back to back with each additional thrust he gave, your voice begging to slip past his fingers as you come undone. He thought you had been dripping wet at the start of this—but he had been sorely mistaken. Your arousal was seeping out of you despite his fingers plugging you up.
“Attagirl..” He whispers against you, giving your clit a few final licks before reluctantly pulling away. The grip on his hair finally loosened as your body went almost completely limp. Your breathing came in rapid, shallow gasps, just as desperate as Vander, himself, now was. His cock was so hard, it felt like it was being choked by his trousers. But he had the patience of a saint. He could wait as long as needed for you to collect yourself once again.
“So, was the service to your liking?” he asks, his tone teasing—and entirely rhetorical—as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. The fingers that had been in your mouth slide free as he takes a moment to compose himself.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he chuckles, clearly amused by how speechless you’ve become.
“Just don’t forget to tip your server..” He teases, alluding to the painfully obvious fact, that this situation is far from over.
Tumblr media
253 notes · View notes
yvesntul · 11 hours ago
Text
vi x reader’s first time together
Tumblr media
18+ minors dni, fingering, intimate sex, fem receiving, oral sex, teasing, squirting, vi in love durr
‘ i can’t believe i get to touch you like this, ‘ you close your eyes feeling vi’s lips press against you, just above your pussy, too easily flustered to even look at her, ‘ you’re so fucking beautiful.. ‘ she commented, her lashes bat in a daze, a breathy laugh leaving your lips in attempt to brush it off, she knew you could never take her compliments serious out of getting nervous, but this was different, this was intimate, you both knew that. this was the farthest you both had gone in your relationship and she wanted to do whatever was possible to reassure you it was all okay. she sees your hips squirm under her contact, you were so worked up, such an easy button to push.
‘ vi, you’re teasing .. ‘
‘ mmm, am i ? or are you too nervous to tell me what you want ? ‘ her pixelated eyes hold a menacing glare with yours, but you’re too busy trying to fix your gaze upon anything other than her. the way she was taunting you during your first time with her was sickening, stimulatingly sickening. ‘ i- i don’t know, i want you, just do something already, please. ‘ she huffs a laugh, wasting no more time diving in. vi starts off with a tongue lick to your cunt, slowly licking her way up to your clit before wrapping both lips around the swollen area. your hands run through her hair. the vibrations of her working making you pull and scratch, causing her to grumble against you with pleasure.
‘ baby oh my god t-that feels so fuckin’ g-good- ohh! ‘ your hips move in sync with her mouth, rubbing your cunt against her face as she follows your path, ‘ all this time i didn’t have a taste of you, ‘ she mumbles and yet you’re already losing it, beginning to lose your patience along with your sanity. she was slurping, kissing, licking and penetrating your pussy with her tongue and she had no remorse while doing so. the lewd sounds from your mouth motivating her, pushing her to do so like it was her last breath here. her tongue continued to work as she sucked on what was almost driving you to the edge. ‘ don’t stop— ‘
‘ god, fucking love the sound of your voice right now, ‘ and that’s when vi slips 2 fingers in without warning, and to be honest, there was no need to. if anything, you needed to be warning her for the messy orgasm you were tiptoeing around. ‘ you’re close aren’t you ? i feel it. ‘ she quizzed and you frantically nodded, your breathing getting heavy. she admired you from her point at the end of the bed. her silence catching your attention as she worked her fingers into you. ‘ stop looking at me like that, ‘ you spoke before she smiled. ‘ i can’t look at my girlfriend ? ‘ ‘ no ! ‘
she laughed at how you tensed, her fingers thrusting into your gummy walls along with the impact from the tip of her tongue flicking against your clit — creating the perfect combination for nothing but pure bliss, ‘ i can feel you angel, just let go for me. give me all of it ..’ her words of encouragement were doing its damn thing, the knot in your belly starting to untie itself on vi’s behalf. your body begins to convulse, this moment felt like more than everything to you, especially to vi, hoping she’d be able to show you her love in every way she’s been wanting, with this only being the beginning.
‘ b-baby .. vi … i’m so close– oh my god .. ‘ she quickly intertwined her hand in yours as you squeeze her knuckles for support through your orgasm. you were too busy making the flesh on her hand turn pale from how hard you were holding on to notice how reactive you verbally were, vi loved every sound coming out of you though. it was a beautiful side of you she had never seen. ‘ i’ve got you babe, let go just like that. ‘ as she says this, you start to panic when you feel the certain pressure below you.
her finger is still working your hole, not pulling away for anything or anyone — not even you. vi sees your small hands trying to pry her own away, but she simply stops you by restraining the same hand pushing her. ‘ wait vi— this feels so different, please, oh my .. ‘ you babble but she didn’t care because she knew what was about to come. ‘ i know, baby. i know. ‘ she holds eye contact with you, feeling your walls begin to tighten around her fingers yet again. that’s when she moves faster, jabbing her finger in and smoothly adding another to completely rupture you. her hand was cramping, but she could take that on any day if it meant she’d be able to see you fall apart.
‘ you’re there. you’re right there, you feel that ? ‘ vi’s question not only earns a loud whine from you, but it finishes you off completely. ‘ holy shit i’m fucking c-cumming vi, oh fuck—” you felt couldn’t even pronounce a single word. the only thing you could begin to make out was her name, and even then, it was just hoarse whines. you don’t see it, but she does. she sees it all — the spurts of your cum soaking her hand, drenching the covers, the way your chest rose and fell with each unsteady breath, your eyes looking into the back of your skull with your lips parted softly as she slowly dragged her fingers out of your walls.
you were fucking breathtaking, she couldn’t believe you were hers.
‘ you did so good, you’re the most beautiful girl ever i swear. ‘ she huffs as you smile at her, you lightly grabbed her face with one hand, bringing her into a long kiss. she uses the weight of one elbow to lean over and place kisses onto your temple. your body is still coming down from its peak, and your vision was still foggy — but you still needed her. you still craved her touch like you had a sweet tooth. ‘ you okay ? didn’t hurt you did i ? ‘ ‘ no no, not at all, vi, i just wan’ more .. ‘ your pleading eyes search for her lips, and once you find them, you inch closer. vi seals it for you, pressing her plumped ones onto your own. you feel the same fingers that were inside you creep up to your chin, then lips — trails of your wet essence lingering on your skin.
‘ are you sure ? ‘
Tumblr media
𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 © 𝐘𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐋 | all rights reserved — do not modify, copy, or plagiarize any of my works.
190 notes · View notes
xetlynn · 2 days ago
Note
Would you mind doing alternate universe claggor x a fem!reader who's a cat-person like lest?
Here you gooo!!!
Arcane Imagines- Claggor
Say It First
Tumblr media
summary: [name] and claggor like one another but neither will make it official.
[arcane] [main page]
“[Name]!? [Name]! Dude your shift is about to start!” A slightly muffled voice shouts, startling me awake from the rough sleep I had last night. I shoot up from my couch, my ears ringing due to the sudden movement I made. I look around trying to remember where I even was. 
I glance down to my couch, trying to pinpoint why I was sleeping in my living room and not my bedroom. I get jolted out of my thoughts when the front door is slamming open. My eyes widened, stepping back to see Mylo who just kicked my door open. “Hey, my door!” I scrunch my face, putting my arms up. “You’re fixing that.” I angrily told him. 
“You should be thanking me, actually.” He rebuttals, showing me his watch. The time was 5 minutes before my shift at The Last Drop started. My heart sank. “I forgot to set my alarm.” I solemnly admit, rushing to my bedroom. “I didn’t know you were awake. I wouldn't have had Mylo do that! I thought he was going to pick the lock, not break it.” Powder says, following behind me. 
 “It’s okay, he’s fixing it whether he wants to or not.” I spit out, throwing my clothes off, not caring that my friend was right there. She covered her eyes immediately. “Vander is going to be pissed!” I cry out, throwing my work clothes on, grooming out my tail along with my hair. “I was up way too late last night.” I mutter, spraying a bunch of perfume on.
“Let’s go.” I grab my best friend’s wrist, dragging her out of my room. Mylo stood there, hands behind his back. “C’mon, I don’t want you in my house.” I point to him, taking his arm in my other hand. Hurriedly leaving my place, shutting the door behind me even though it really didn’t matter since my lock and door knob was busted.
“Why were you so tired, hm?” Mylo takes his arm back as we all rush to the bar. “I was out with a friend.” I rolled my eyes, sprinting ahead of them so I didn’t have to hear their teasing. 
“She was so with Claggor.” He whispers over to Powder who just snickers. “Totally.” She adds. 
“Guys, please whispering is not the best thing to do around me.” I point to my fluffed up ears. “We meant for you to hear.” The blue haired girl smirks. I groan. “Whatever.” The Last Drop comes into view and I start running to the building. I made it in just a minute. All eyes on me when I burst inside. I bite my lip, holding onto my tail nervously as I walk to Vander. “I made it on time.” I give him a small salute. 
“You look like you just woke up.” He ruffles my hair, my ears go down, upset with him messing up my hair. “That’s because she did.” Mylo sits on a stool, Powder joining. “Only reason she’s here is because we broke into her house.” She says in a joking manner even though that is quite literally what they did. 
“Yeah, Mylo. I’m not joking when I say you’re fixing that!” I fumed, heading behind the bar to tie my waist apron. “Yeah, yeah.” He sighs in annoyance. “He broke your lock?” A voice adds into the conversation, I perk up looking to see Claggor who’s holding a box of random things. “Yeah, can you believe that?” I smile, leaning over the counter. 
Vander scoffs, walking away knowing I’m about to be really distracted now. “Actually, I can.” He grumbles glaring over at his brother. “He learned it from Vi when we were younger.” Claggor thinks back to the pink haired girl who was basically his sister. I take his hand knowing sometimes it’s a little hard to mention her. “Yeah well he’s going to fix said door.” I squeeze his hand before letting it go to pinch Mylo on the arm. “Better get to it so I have a safe home to go to bed tonight.” I stare him down and when he attempts to argue I just make a zip it motion. 
“Going now…” He groans, storming out of the building. Powder joins Claggor and I, laughing at her pouting brother who just left. “I warned him about having to fix it.” She shrugs her shoulders. “He doesn’t think about consequences much.” I remind her. “Never has.” Claggor chimes in, giving me a small wink. My face flushes and I turn to Powder who was already smirking at me. 
“So, what were you two doing up so late last night?” She abruptly questions us, making both Claggor and I tense up. “Well, um, this was part of the reason.” He lifts up the box he came in here with. “A box of… junk?” Powder tilts her head with a slight expression of disgust. 
“Yes, I’m reusing it. To turn it into jewelry. Claggor and I were collecting them yesterday and he said he’d clean them and bring them back to me. Hence why he brought it here.” I explain, taking the box, hiding it underneath the counter. “Thank you by the way.” I grin, he nods his head. “Jewelry?”
“Yeah, Vander said I could sell some here if they were good enough.” I pointed over to their dad who was talking to a customer. “I forgot you were super into making jewelry.” Powder purses out her lips. “Speaking of jewelry! Ekko and I are going on a date to that art festival tonight. We wanted to invite you two.” She proposes to us and I furrow my eyebrows as Claggor has a slight blush on his cheeks. “You want us to join your date?” I repeated back to her.
“It’s a date for us, it can be whatever… your hangouts are called.” She avoids eye contact with me. I know what she’s doing. 
Claggor and I like each other. It’s extremely evident and we both know how annoying it comes off. For some reason we don’t talk about it nor do we hint at it or anything. No kissing, no hugging, no intimacy at all! I got a fist bump last night and I dreamt about it, that’s how pathetic this whole ordeal is. 
“You don’t have to answer now but I need one before 4.” She smacks her hand down on the counter before walking away just as her boyfriend, Ekko comes into view. I turned to Claggor who was staring down at his hands. “Do you want to go?” I ask him, I feel my tail flicker to the side and I grab it. Not wanting it to give away my interest. “Do you?” 
I smack his arm because of his answer. He does this often. Not giving me an answer on what he wants and deflecting it for me to answer first. “I do, actually. Now, what do you want to do?”
He smiles up at me. “That’s exactly what I was going to say.” He says. I roll my eyes. “Sure it was.” 
•••
Powder gets dressed over at my house. She’s wearing a white shirt that has pink flowers all over it with a long black skirt as I put on a dark blue shirt and jean shorts. My shorts used to be Powders but I absentmindedly cut a hole in them for my tail after I borrowed them. 
“Are you two going to make it official soon?” Powder asks as she finishes her eyeliner. “Again with this?” I whine, aggressively putting my shoes on. “[Name] it is exhausting to watch! Just say something. I’m sure he wants the same thing!” She practically begs and I sit on the edge of my bed, letting out a huff of air. “I know he does but I want him to make the first move. He never says what he wants first.” I throw myself back on my bed dramatically. 
“He’s most likely just nervous, he doesn’t want to say the wrong thing.” Powder comes and sits beside me. Her face was hovering over mine. “I understand though.” She rubs my arm. “Funny, Ekko was pretty straight forward last I checked.” I poke her nose, her cheeks turn pink in response. “Okay I don’t fully get it but I do understand if I put myself in your shoes.” She shoves my arm, standing back up. 
•••
We meet up with the guys at the bridge where they’re throwing the festival. Powder jumps over to her boyfriend, linking their arms. Claggor and I awkwardly stand beside one another, following behind the couple into the festival. 
I mainly just looked around for new jewelry inspos to make out of the recycled junk that I have. Telling Claggor to take a mental image just in case I forgot. Powder and I fangirling over certain paintings and little gadgets all around. 
“[Name], look at that table.” Powder points over to another jewelry table but the jewelry wasn’t made of metal or plastic but instead plants. My jaw slacks, grabbing onto Claggor excitedly bringing him over to the table with me. Not realizing that Ekko and Powder took that as a chance to split up from us. I pick up a blue flower crown, examining it. “I could so create something like this!” I squeal, placing it on my head. “Powder they have pink-” I held it in my hands, turning to show her but she was already gone. I press my lips together and frown.
 “Wow.” I scoffed out a laugh. “Hey, since you picked that up you actually have to buy both of them.” The creator comes up behind me, I look at her with a sad look. I didn’t bring any money. Before I can say that though Claggor was already giving him a few coins. “Thank you.” She nods her head, stuffing the coins in her pocket. 
“Sorry, I’ll pay you back.” I hold the flower crown in front of me. Not knowing what to do with it now. “It’s alright, don’t worry about it.” He waves me off. I look between him and the crown, a smirk creeping up on my lips. 
“Put this on.” I give it to him, he raises a brow. “Okay.” He puts it on without a fight and I giggle, giving him a hug. “We match!” I feel my tail flick back and forth and I immediately let him go before he can embrace me back.
I clear my throat. “Let’s go check out the glass area. That seemed cool.” I avert my gaze from him, walking ahead now. “You okay?” He asks. “Of course.” I curtly answered. 
I want to be able to hug him without worrying about doing too much. Or showing him I’m too happy because what if that looks weird. My ears and tail give me away too quickly though. I’ve never been able to lie about my emotions. Ever. If I’m upset my ears flatten. If I’m happy, excited or nervous my tail will show it with how it moves. It’s sort of annoying. 
“I know something’s bothering you, [Name].” He places a hand on my shoulder. See! 
“Nothing’s bothering me.” I lie, forcing a smile. “Let’s go see that glass.” I pump my fists in the air. He doesn’t move though when I begin to walk. “C’mon.” I try to grab his hand but he pulls away to cross his arms. “Not until you tell me.”
I glanced around us and everyone was just walking around, not paying attention to what we were doing at all. “I guess we can stay in the jewelry section.” I attempt to make a joke but it doesn’t land with my very small audience.
Once his silence began to bother me I swallowed down my pride. Thinking back to what Powder said. How it might just be hard for him to explain how feels about things. 
“I want to be something.” I deflect eye contact with him, trying to focus on literally anything else at this moment. “What do you want to be?” He stammers.
“A couple like Ekko and Powder. I want to kiss, hold hands, tell everyone that you’re mine.” I exclaim, at the ending of my sentence I glance up at him. His hands drop to his sides. “I can’t tell if that’s what you want either because you never tell me how you feel unless I say what I feel and then you just agree with me and it makes me feel like you’re lying almost.” I blurt out word after word, not being able to stop the vomit that is this sentence. 
“I just want to know how Claggor feels, not [Name].” I tell him truthfully, my head going down sadly. My ears falling with it. I hold onto my tail to mess with something.
“I… in all honesty [Name] I feel the same way as you most of the time. Like this for example, I want the same thing. I want to call you mine and scream it out to everyone. I just get scared that I’m going to mess up.” He grabbed my hands, my tail dropping back down. “What would you mess up?” I look up at him through my eyelashes. “Everything.” He chuckles dryly. 
“Mm, I don’t think you ever could.” I pull him closer to me, wrapping his arms around me. “I want you to be mine and I want you to tell me everything you feel.” I tell him, my arms going around his neck. “I want to kiss you.” He says, momentarily letting me go so we can get out of people's way a little better. We weren’t exactly stopping anyone from walking but so we could have our moment a little better. He brought me to the wall of the bridge. 
“You want to kiss me?” I giggle, my hand traveling to his face. “Mhm.” He nods his head. I see the redness in his ears from how hard he’s blushing. “Then do it.” I whisper.
He smiles, both of us inching closer and closer before he closes the gap between us. Our lips locking together and then moving as if we’ve done this before. 
Once we realize we were still in public though we back away with dumb, goofy smiles on our faces. “We need to do that more often.” I blurted out, causing him to laugh. “I wouldn’t mind.” 
“FINALLY!!!” Two arms wrap around us, pulling us together with Powder who was excitedly jumping up and down. “What’d I tell you, Ekko. My plan worked.” She throws her head back to look at her boyfriend who shook his head. 
176 notes · View notes
justmeinadaze · 2 days ago
Text
November Rain Part 2 (Eddie X Plus Size Reader)
Tumblr media
A/N: You have decided 😈 I'll release this now then :) Enjoy the angst and the cliffhanger! *dances away in an angsty fashion*.
Warnings: Older (Early to Mid 30s) Dominate Boxer (Friend's Dad) Eddie X Plus Size Fem younger (early to mid 20s) sub Y/N, SMUT, Daddy Kink, public-ish smut (quickie at work), FLUFF, Eddie really does love his daughter and is trying to be a better father. He also really cares about you which leads me to...
ANGST! Reader mentions that Eddie disappears for a bit and how it affects her (brief), mentions of worry when it comes to their relationship (both are aware they can only keep this hidden for so long which kind of fuels he choice at the end of this chapter), Eddie also kind of keeps his ex and marriage close to his chest (struggles to talk about it), we meet Paige's mom, Paige gets wasted and you take care of her, I think that's it. OH! Cliffhanger ending 😈 I LOVE YOU!
Word Count: 4608
Part 1/Donate to Me
2 weeks. 
It had been two weeks since you found out the man you had been intimate with was your roommate and friend’s father. Two weeks of silence even though you left him your phone number by his nightstand praying he’d call only to find out a few hours later that things were way more complicated than they should be. 
Two weeks of dreaming of his lips and hands roaming your skin while he whispered in your ear how beautiful you were. Two weeks of crying at night because you desperately missed the sound of his laugh and hated that life was so un-fucking-fair. 
Two weeks of misery. 
“I’m sorry, Paige.”, you murmured as you glared out the window. 
“Honey, it’s no problem. Your car was doomed to die sooner or later. I’m surprised it ran for as long as it has.”, your friend chuckles as she rubs your arm. “We’ll get through this, Y/N.”
Following the tow truck pulling your car, she lets out a heavy sigh as her head hangs seeing a face you both recognize as he steps out towards the vehicle and speaks with the driver before heading towards you both.
“What are you doing here? You’re normally off on Wednesdays.”, Paige growls as Eddie scans her over drying his hands on the rag from his back pocket.
“I’ve, um, been doing some overtime. What happened, sweetheart? Your car die?”
“No. My friend’s.”, she gestures towards you. 
Without looking your way, he nods and guides you both towards the garage before popping the hood.
“Go ahead and take a seat in the lobby. Y/N…was it? Can you stay and tell me what’s been going on with the vehicle?”
“Yeah, sure.”, you affirm, nodding towards Paige to assure her that you could handle yourself as she disappeared into the building. 
“Jesus Christ, I can already tell you this engine is shot.”, Eddie sighs as he leans under the hood. 
“Yeah, um, I’ve had it for years and it was my dads before that. It runs but sometimes if I go over a certain speed this part—”
“Careful!”, he shouts as he hastily grabs your hand before you can touch anything. 
Time seems to stop as his fingers connect with your skin. You didn’t realize how deeply you missed that feeling and when his eyes finally met yours you knew he felt it to.
“Don’t…don’t want you to get burned.”, Eddie mumbled as he let you go and turned back around. 
“I’ve been burned before.”, you sigh causing his head to hang. “Why didn’t you call?”
“I didn’t think it was appropriate.”
“You’re right. I guess I don’t deserve an explanation or anything.”
His chocolate eyes glare your way before focusing on the parts in front of him once more. 
“I didn’t say that.”
“No, your fucking actions did.”, you growl. “I guess Paige was right about you.”
“Listen here, little girl.”, he grumbles as he stands up straight and points his finger at your chest. “You don’t know fucking anything about me or my family so I suggest you keep your fucking mouth shut.”
Glaring his way, you take one step forward till the tip of his index was pressing hard into your skin. 
“You’re right, I don’t because you didn’t call and what you did fucking tell me was a lie.”
“I DIDN’T—“, he starts to shout before looking around, grabbing your wrist, and dragging you to an office in the back of the garage. “I didn’t lie.”
“You said you weren’t married.”
“I’m in the middle of a divorce.”
“Don’t play semantics with me!” As he starts to lift his hand to silence you, you shove his chest. “You said you were a boxer.”
“I AM a boxer.”, Eddie grunts with annoyance and as your eyes search his, you realize you’ve touched a nerve. 
“You made it sound like it was your career. You’re a fucking mechanic.”
“I’m working and training to make that my career. I work here to make money for my family.”
“That you left.”
The man steps towards closer till his nose is hover just above your own. 
“I said shut your fucking mouth. I love my daughter and I loved my wife before we separated. There are things Paige doesn’t know and I plan to keep it that way because what happened in our marriage should be between me and her mother. Even though she keeps dragging her into our business…”
Your gaze remains locked with his till a heavy sigh leaves your chest and an involuntary tear slides down your cheek. 
“You hurt me.”, your whisper causing his strong features to falter. “I didn’t expect this. I didn’t even want to go on that stupid date but then I met you and we had a good time… I hate that I can’t stop thinking about you. I hate that some of your cologne is still clinging to my fucking dress. I hate that I miss your lips and the way you made me feel—”
Abruptly, Eddie’s hands cupped your cheeks and his mouth crashed to yours. Your arms circled around his waist as you pulled him closer to you, your fists clenching around his dirty jumpsuit. 
“I’m sorry.”, he murmured when he pulled back enough to allow you both to get some air. “I never meant to hurt you… I liked being with you to, sweetheart, and not just sexually, but this is wrong.”
“I know, Daddy, I know.” At your words, a strong groan leaves his lips as his forehead rests against yours. “H-Have you been thinking about me to?”
You knew it wasn’t right but you couldn’t help dropping into that headspace. You had felt so vulnerable these last couple of weeks and he had been the only man in a long time to make you feel cared for. To have him in front of you after missing him so much was making you needy and the desperate energy that was radiating from him wasn’t helping. 
“Why do you think I’ve been working so much overtime?”, he chuckles. “I needed a distraction because every waking moment I miss your face. I dream about you, Y/N.”
As he continues to speak, your hips grind against his allowing the prominent dent below his waist graze along your panty covered core. 
“I can smell your perfume on my sheets. When I’m training, I picture you watching me like you did when I first saw you. Sometimes—shit—sometimes I imagine I’m punching that fucking idiot that hurt you.” Eddie smiles when a breathy laugh leaves your lips. “When I’m on my bike, I wish you were holding me like you did on the ride back to the gym. Jesus, any chance to feel you’re your sexy legs wrapped around me…”
“Like this?”, you ask, lifting one of your legs around his waist. 
At the action, his head falls into the nook between your neck and shoulder, pressing himself harder against you as he rubs his crotch against your center. 
“Ah my god, baby.”, he whispers causing you to shutter as you try to pull him closer to you. “Fuck this.”
At Eddie’s abrupt grunt of annoyance, he pulls away enough to unzip his jumpsuit and push it down just below his waist. Your eyes take in the beads of sweat that cling to his muscular arms and chest, ready and willing to lick it off his skin if he wanted. After moving your panties to the side, he maneuvered his hips till his cock slid a bit roughly into your entrance. 
“Mmph—so big, Daddy. I missed having you inside me…so deep.”
His large palm gripped the back of your thigh, pulling it high up his waist while his open mouth kisses along your throat had your eyes rolling. 
“J-Just like that, baby, please. I need your cum. Please, cum with me.”
Rolling his hips, Eddie repeatedly slammed into that spongy spot inside at you, leaving you a trembling mess as you clung your arms around his neck and smothered your whimper in his shoulder as you came. 
It didn’t take him long to follow as he groaned and his fingers dug into your skin as his release coated your insides.
Neither of you moved as you panted in each other’s embrace. 
“Edward Munson!?”
At the sound of his name, you half expected him to jump away from you and adjust himself but when fingers gripped you tighter you were surprised. 
“Who is that?”, you whisper calmly.
“My boss.”, he replies in an equally lower register.
“Should you get back out there?”
When he nods, you begin to lower your leg but he just holds you tighter as he nuzzles his nose into your neck. 
“I don’t want to let you go.”, Eddie murmurs into your skin. “If I do…the reality of our situation comes back and…I don’t want that, Y/N.”
Your fingers tenderly thread through his hair as you duck your head so your lips can kiss his. 
“I know, baby, I know. I don’t know what to do though.”
“Me either.”
“EDWARD MUNSON!”
“YEAH! I’m fucking coming! Give me a goddamn minute!”, he shouts before backing away from you and adjusting your outfit. “Maybe…maybe we can just be friends…at least. I miss your voice…”
“Ok.”
Your eyes lock with his after watching him tie the upper half of his jumpsuit around his waist. 
“Ok.” Turning around, he grabs some paper off the desk behind him and writes down his phone number. “Text or call if you need anything or just want to talk. I’ll reach out to you later about your car. It’s going to take longer than a night to fix. Do either of you need a ride?”
“Oh, um, no. Paige and I followed the tow truck in her car so we can take that home.”
“Oh, pfft, that’s right. My brain sometimes...”
“I understand.”, you smile as you start to walk away but his hand around your wrist tugs you back as his lips lightly kiss yours again. 
“I just wanted to taste you one last time.”
“One last time.”, you repeat before turning to leave.
***
There were many “last times” over the next couple of months. 
You two couldn’t stay away from each other for long but you knew this was wrong so after every intimate moment or night spent together, you promised this would be it. Especially since, according to Paige, Eddie was trying to be more in her life.
“I’m trying to let him in more but with the divorce hearing and everything, my mom is flipping her lid. My graduate school is doing that exhibit for art students and I want them both to go but I don’t want it to be thing.”
“I understand, honey. This is a big deal for you and your work is amazing. All the attention should be on you. The few times I’ve talked with your parents, they seem like they can keep it together for one night.”
“Hm.”, she sasses as she rolls her eyes making you laugh. “You’ll be there right?”
“Of course. I’m taking the night off to be there.”
“Good.”, she sighs as she leans her head on your shoulder. “You can help be my referee.”
You smiled and nodded but that was the absolute last thing you wanted to be.
***
The smell of rubber and sweat promptly hit you as soon as you open the gym door with the key Eddie gave you. He had already moved into his new apartment but the metalhead liked to come by after work and train as much as he could. 
They gym itself closed around 8pm but the owner seemed to trust this particular boxer, allowing him to come and go at will. When you found him, you could vaguely hear the metal music that was blasting from his headphones as he punched the bag in front of him. 
Eddie’s eyes were zeroed in on his target as he continued to follow one swing with another. Sauntering to his phone on the edge of the ring, you couldn’t help but take in the picture of him and a much younger Paige on his lockscreen as he kissed her cheek while she smiled at the camera. They both looked so happy. 
Pausing his music, he angrily turned before realizing it was you and his gaze immediately softened. 
“Hey. Hey, sweetheart. I didn’t expect you.”, panted as he removed his gloves and took out the earbuds. “Everything all right?”
With a half smile you flashed him his phone screen and he cautiously came over to sit beside you as he continued to try to get a read on what was going on inside your head. 
“I still remember when that was taken. Paige was about ten or eleven and the three of us went to a park to have fun. She lifted her arms in that boxing stance and took a couple of light swings.”, he chuckles. “That was a few months before I started training. I had mentioned to her how when I was her age I wanted to be a boxer. She encouraged me to try… I don’t know if she even remembers that after everything.”
“She’s worried about the exhibit this weekend. She’s afraid that you and your ex will fight and ruin a night that’s supposed to be about her.”
Eddie’s eyes squeeze shut as he sighs and takes your hand in his. 
“I can understand why she would feel that way. My ex and I… I’ve tried so hard to…”, he stutters as he struggles to find the words. 
“I feel bad, Eddie.”, you whisper as his chocolate irises find yours. “She’s right. This should be about her but this is the first time I’m going to be in the same room with you two since my car broke down AND your ex, her mom, who I’ve met will be there…”
“Sweetheart, baby, come on. Everything’s going to be alright.”, he coos as he kisses your forehead. “Just be yourself and focus on Paige. I can handle the rest.”
############
“Calm down.”, you tease as you tug lightly on your roommate’s skirt as she dances in front of her artwork. 
“I’m calm! I’m calm. I’m just so excited.”
“Hey, sweetheart.”, Eddie beamed as he sauntered towards Paige and reached down for a hug that she eagerly accepted. You knew she would be more open tonight because she was in such a good mood and the warmth that glowed from the metalhead as she wrapped her arms around him had you grinning from ear to ear. 
You liked seeing them both happy. 
“Hey there, Y/N.”, he greets politely as he tosses you a smile. “Geez, you both look gorgeous. I feel like I’m underdressed.”
Since you met him, you had never seen Eddie this dressed up and to you he looked as delicious as ever in his suit and tie with his hair pulled back out of his face. The man tried to control his eyes as they raked across you in your cute blue dress that rested just above your knees. 
“I think you look great, dad. Oh, there’s my professor. I’ll be right back! Y/N, show him my work.”
Eddie couldn’t help but laugh as he watched her excitedly bounce away before focusing on her art hanging on the wall. 
“Paige was always a really talented artist.”, he muses as he absorbs the image in front of him. “I, uh, I guess I see now why you didn’t make the connection that we were related.”, the man murmurs sullenly as he gestures towards her signature.
Paige Davis
“I’m sorry, Eddie.”, you whisper back wishing desperately that you could hold him. 
As the night wore on, you remained next to your friend while her father roamed the area occasionally sneaking glances at you from afar. He absolutely adored what a caring friend you were to his daughter knowing that’s exactly what she needed with everything going on in her life. 
He always hated that his ex insisted on telling Paige everything going on in their divorce even more so that he knew she was purposely omitting truths to make him look like that asshole. Eddie could do the same if he wanted to but he refused to stoop that low and not just because it was wrong to pull her into that but because he also knew how much Paige loved her mother. He knew how important it was to have her in his daughter’s life after losing his own at such a young age so he chose to allow the narrative to continue even if that made him the bad guy. 
He just prayed you didn’t see him that way either. 
The boxer hated having to hide you knowing a beautiful woman like you deserved to be lavished and seen. 
But what could he do?
Not only were you his daughter’s friend but he was going through a messy divorce, in-between careers, barely had an income, and he’d be lying if he didn’t say the age difference made him feel slightly insecure. 
Eddie accepted the way things were at the moment but he knew it couldn’t stay that way forever. 
“Paige, honey, oh my god, this is amazing.”, her mom squealed as you watched them both hug. “Hey, Y/N, how are you? You look beautiful.”
“Thank you, Ms. Davis.”, you awkwardly smile as she leans down to hug you as well. 
“Now, who do I speak with to buy this gorgeous work of art?”
“Mom. My professor has to review it first along with all the others.”, Paige whines.
“I mean, obviously, you’ll get a good grade.”
The smell of his cologne hits you before your friend’s nervous eyes do. 
“You know maybe Dominick would like it in his living room so we can show it off you know? Oh, hey Edward.”, her mother coos in a syrupy tone that has even you wanting to roll your eyes. 
“Ava.”, Eddie greets. “How are you?”
“Great! Absolutely wonderful.”
As the night progresses, something changes. Paige, who had been spending most of the night in front of her artwork, had vanished and you promptly went on the hunt for her before finding her in a bathroom stall. 
“Paige? Oh my.”, you sass as you inhale the smell of liquor wafting from her lips when you open the door to check in. 
“Hey, Y/N! My bes fer-en.”, she slurs. 
“Ok, how much have you had, honey? Don’t you still need to talk to your professor?”
“Pfft, no. I done. Uh oh…”, she chuckles before throwing herself over the toilet to vomit.
“Alright, sweetie. You’re ok. Get it all out.”
“My-my mom invited her boyfr-en. I mean…I guess he’s not technically her boyfr-en…I don’t know. Ma dad is gonna be pissed.”, she giggles as you help her to her feet and guide her to the sink to wash her hands and face. 
“Let’s talk about that later. Like you said, tonight is supposed to be about you.”
“I don know why he be so angry. I think he has a girlfr-en or something. Plus, they haven’t been together for a year.”
You try to block out her words but it’s hard especially when you walk her out the door and are suddenly bombarded by the sound of yelling. 
“Tonight was supposed to be about her, Ava!”
“HEY! I’m only going to say this one more fucking time. Don’t speak to my girlfriend like that!”
“You don’t have any fucking say in this as far as I’m concerned! Now excuse me while I talk to the mother of my fucking child.”
“She’s not a child, Edward, and she doesn’t mind that I bring him. You’re the one that seems to be causing the problem and putting attention on yourself.”
“That’s right. Make me the fucking bad guy even though you’ve been parading him around in front of me the last couple of hours.”
The sound of your grunt as Paige collapses in your arms grabs their attention as all eyes turn your way. 
“I didn’t mean to…I’m sorry…she’s drunk. I was just trying to get her to my car…”
“No, um, no worries, Y/N, I can take her.”
As the other man steps forward, you spin your friend out of his grasp. 
“I know them. I don’t know you.”, you growl. “All I know is that you being here upset her so I’m not letting you touch her.”
“Dom, it’s ok, baby.”, she calls his way before glaring at Eddie. “This your fucking fault.”
“She didn’t want him here, Ava.”
“No, you don’t want him here.”, she hisses before taking her boyfriend’s hand and heading to their car. 
Angerly, he stalks your way and collects his daughter in his arms. 
“I’ll follow you to your place and help you get her in bed.”, he grumbles, buckling her in before heading for his motorcycle.
***
“I don’t think I’ve seen your room before.”, he sighs with a smile as he looks around at all your things.
After getting Paige in bed, he took the opportunity and followed you across the hall into your bedroom. Eddie took solace in the fact that you were a bit messy like him, taking note of all the clothes on the floor and your bed half made. You had posters of different movies as well as some of your friend’s artwork that he immediately recognized. 
You watch as he picks up random items on your dresser including your perfume that he inhales and smirks at the familiar scent. 
“My parents.”, you answer when he flashes you a photo in a frame. 
“You look like them.”
“Eddie, why does her boyfriend make you so jealous?” 
At your question, he sighs as he places the image back down and turns to face you leaning against the furniture. 
“I don’t know.”, he shrugs. “Maybe it’s because we aren’t even fucking divorced yet and she’s calling him her boyfriend while talking about him like he’s the love of her fucking life.”
“You two aren’t divorced and you’re fucking me.”
“It’s different.”
“How?”
His large chocolate eyes meet yours before coming around and descending to his knees in front of you. 
“Y/N, I did everything and I mean EVERYTHING to make my marriage work. It was never enough. To her…I had failed as a husband and she was…is…going to whatever she can to punish me for that.” As your gaze shifts to the floor, his fingers quickly grab your chin to bring your focus back to him. “Talk to me.”
“I think…the reason it’s different is because she can parade him around and claim him. You can’t do that with me.”
“I want to.”, he whispers. “More than anything.”
“But…”
“I don’t know what to do, Y/N. It would fucking kill Paige if she found out but I know it’s killing you, sweetheart. You deserve to be seen and shown off.”
“Eddie…maybe, we—”
“Don’t. Please don’t say we should stop.”, he murmurs as his head falls into your lap and on impulse your hand comes up to run your fingers through his hair. “I don’t want to lose you, baby.”
Hearing your sniffles, he lifts his head and his palms cup your cheeks as he catches your tears with his thumbs. 
“No, princess, no. Don’t cry. Daddy’s here, baby girl. Everything’s going to be ok.”
Collecting you in his arms, you allow him to hold you as he continuous to whisper soft words of endearment and adoration. After a while, you allow him to undress you and make love to you; his palm clasped over your mouth to silence the screams that are on the edge of your tongue with every orgasm he pulls from you. 
“Can I stay? I promise I’ll leave as soon as the sun comes up.”, Eddie murmurs as he continues to trail gently pecks along your skin. “I just don’t want to let you go right now.”
You nod knowing “right now” will eventually come. You fall asleep in his arms and wake up alone but unlike other nights where you both had done this…this time kills you. 
#################
Eddie grumbles under his breath as he slams the phone a bit to roughly on the table in front of him. It had been a few days since he had heard from you and he was starting to get incredibly worried. Usually if you couldn’t talk, you would leave a little emoji or tell him you’d reply “ASAP” but since that night after his daughter’s exhibit, you would read his messages but never reply. 
“Hey, Dad.”
“Hey…hey, Paige, sweetheart. It’s good to see you.”, he grins as he tries to hide his pain so he can enjoy lunch with his daughter. They rarely did this anymore and he savored every moment he got. “How are you? Tell me everything.”
One of the many traits she got from him was her gift of gab. Once she started talking, she could go on and on and Eddie loved it. He absorbed everything she said and laughed whenever she would make a little joke at her expense. 
“Ugh and then Y/N’s got her own bit of chaos.”
At the sound of your name, he tried not to let the concern show on his face as he casually replied, “Oh yeah? What’s going on with her?”
“I guess her and that boxer guy she liked split or something. She spent the last couple of days just completely broken and sobbing. We’ve had a lot of girl’s nights filled with ice cream and movies.”, she giggled before sighing as Eddie’s heart breaks. 
You hadn’t said you wanted to stop seeing him, not directly, and he was pretty sure he hadn’t said anything to make you think he wanted your relationship to end. He cared about you very much and hated not being around you or hearing from you. 
“And of course, guess who calls like dog who can sense that she’s upset? Her fucking ex. Oh shit, dad! Are you ok?!”
Eddie hadn’t realized that while Paige was speaking, his grip around his glass had gotten tighter and tighter until she mentioned your ex causing it to break under his grasp. 
“Huh? Fuck. Yeah, I’m fine.”, he replies as he reaches for napkins to clean up the mess. “So did they get back together or what?”
“Oh, I don’t know. She’s had dinner with him a couple of times but I don’t think they are. She said she wanted to go slow and hear what he had to say. I mean they were together for a while.” 
“Yeah…well, shit. Good for her, I guess.”, he seethes. 
“Yeah. I told her I was going to your match on Saturday with my boyfriend and that she should come so I can vet him. See what he’s up to but she seemed skeptical about going. Maybe she’s afraid the boxer guy will be there to. Do you know who he is? She’s never told me his name.”
“Uh, no I don’t but tell her they both should come. The more the merrier and if that boxer guy shows up, I can kick his ass. Maybe we can all have dinner together and I can help you vet him.” 
Paige laughs when he lightly taps her hand.
“Won’t it be weird? You’ll be like a fifth wheel.”
“Oh, don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m sure I can find someone to bring along. If you’re ok with that, of course.”
“Ok! Sounds like a plan. This is going to be interesting.”
She had no idea.
###################
@dashingdeb16 @myherometalhead @micheledawn1975 @hardladyheart @chelebelletx @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @paleidiot @alphabetically-deranged @sophiejayne-illustrations713 @yesimabratandwhataboutot @idkwhattoputhere08 @gryffindorqueensworld @mewchiili @veemoon @heavenlyhorrors @twirls827 @jamiecb66 @chelebelletx @longpondlibrary @friendly-neighborhood-ghoul @hellv1ra @utterlyinsanity
144 notes · View notes
earlysunshines · 6 hours ago
Text
lights, camera, action!
danielle marsh x actress!reader ; fluff
synopsis: you passed your media training classes but that doesn’t stop you after a couple of drinks from leaking that you’re very much attracted to danielle marsh on live
warnings: alcohol ; soobin from txt but he's actually an actor (idk why i use him in my fics sm) and also other idols that are actors instead of... idols ; discovering sexuality ; reader is whipped for danielle ; danielle is whipped for reader ; gay gay gay they're so in love i hate myself ; anyhting else not mentioned ; not proofread
a/n: hi i need her so bad like sooo bad like she’s so. like. like hey. hi hai. hi.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
@/ynln is live!
the viewers catch a little glimpse of your flushed cheeks, slow blinks, and lazy smile.
you’re not drunk, not at all, you’re just naturally an idiot and even more of one after a few after-party drinks. the remnants of laughter and lively conversation from the after-party of your premiere still lingering in your ears. the giddiness hadn’t left your body at all.
“heyyy guys.” you fail to set up the camera on your hotel desk, so you resort to flopping onto the bed and holding it yourself. “i hope you all are well.”
the screen was filled with comments almost immediately—fans were sending love, compliments, and congratulating you on the new movie, and praising your looks during the premiere. your smile grew wider, your cheeks burned a little warmer than before.
@/lnloverrr: you looked so good at the event
@/yourstruly84: a look for the books
@/ynloops: so excited for the movie! can’t wait to see more action roles from you!
@/tokkilvrr: celine queen!!! you rocked the top
“aww you guys are so cute,” you say, a little more giggly than usual. the only thing illuminating you at the moment is the city glow filtering through the curtains, so you turn on a lamp in order for your fans to see you better. “i’m so happy you guys are excited about the movie. it means a looot, really.”
you scrolled through the comments, answering a few questions about your favorite scenes to shoot and what the cast was like. you went on a whole ramble about your male co-star soobin and how you almost beat him in an arm wrestling battle after two shots, which led to another ramble about how rigorous the process of working out to achieve your physique was for this film. it was fun talking about all the fun behind-the-scenes moments, one of them being how you have a video of soobin tripping over the props, one which you will definitely be posting once the movie is out.
after skimming the comments a bit more, most of them being “can i get an i love you?” or various compliments which keep a smile plastered on your face. but then one catches your eye, making you raise a brow: do you have a celebrity crush?
“oh, a celebrity crush? well i don’t know if i have a crush, but more of a friend crush if you get what i mean.” you laughed, the sound light and loose. you pause, thinking it over as more comments pop up with heart emojis and people begging for an answer. you sigh playfully, leaning against the bedframe and blinking slowly again. “okay, this is going to sound so cheesy. you know how i like newjeans? i’ve mentioned it before… but i’ve been such a fan of newjeans since their debut. like, seriously, their music is always on repeat. i’ve made soobin and the rest of the cast listen to them — soyeon loves them actually. ugh i loved their debut ep so much and then they dropped ditto and–”
@/koalaln: okay so… it’s someone from newjeans?
@/minjiplsmarrymepls: not my fav actor being a tokki
@/phammipham: girl if you don’t tell us rn…
“oh yeah, celebrity crush, right.” you chuckle after reading the comments again. you bit your lip before continuing, “well, aside from newjeans being one of my favorite groups… they’re all talented and beautiful, of course, but oh my god. danielle?”
your voice dropped to a more earnest tone as you looked right at the camera again, shaking your head and blushing a little. you could blame it on the alcohol.
“danielle is probably one of the prettiest people i’ve ever seen. her visuals are like, insane. like, she has this elegance to her, she’s glowing, but she’s also just really cute. i’ve seen some of their interviews and she’s so bright and bubbly and i just think she’s so adorable and— yeah. i love her energy.” you let out a small, tipsy laugh, not realizing how much you were rambling—again.
“and the thing is, we’re both ambassadors for celine too, so i’ve seen her from afar at events and stuff. i’ve never actually met her, which is crazy, right? i mean i've met park bogum but not her! you’d think we would have bumped into each other by now, but nope. i kind of just admire from afar, like her pictures don’t do her justice but they… do? she’s stunning in person, at least from afar.”
the comments started blowing up with people freaking out, sending a variety of emojis that you couldn’t even count on both hands. they were saying things like “omg you’re totally fangirling right now,” “okay purr y/n is danielle biased she has taste,” and even “you and danielle interacting or collaborating would be iconic.”
you blinked at the screen, noticing the way the chat kept mentioning her name. you rubbed your face with your hand, blinking hard again. “oh my god, am i talking too much? anyway!” you waved your hand, laughing as you tried to shake off the embarrassment creeping up your neck. “next question, next question.”
you spent a few more minutes answering questions about your movie, sharing more stories of what happens on set (making sure to include how many times jaehyun fell asleep on set — which was far too often and in the most questionable positions. you wonder how someone falls asleep leaning against a wall). by the end, your eyelids were starting to droop, and the comments were still buzzing with your confession from earlier. you blinked again, then thanked the fans for their support once more to wrap up the livesteam.
“alright, i’m about to pass out,” you say tiredly, smile turning soft. “thank you for putting up with me. love you all so much.”
the phone in your hand dropped onto the bed after ending the livestream. your head lands on the pillows and you sigh, a grin still on your face. before you knew it, you were out like a light, blissfully unaware of what you’ve just started.
the sun filtered through the hotel curtains, which warmed up the room. you stirred, eyes fluttering open as a ray hit you right in the eye, making you roll around the other way. 
unfortunately for you, this wasn’t the only thing trying to wake you up. your phone buzzed insistently next to you, and you reached for it blindly, squinting at the screen as your manager’s name flashed across it. you crinkled your brows, confused to say the least.
“hello? mark?” your voice was hoarse with sleep, tinged with last nights events.
“morning sleepyhead,” mark’s voice was calm and a little playful as always, but there was an unmistakable edge that meant business. “do you want to tell me why you’re trending on every social media platform? and you even made it onto some entertainment sites.”
a groan slips from you as you sit up all too quickly. the memories of your late-night live stream start to flood back. “shit.”
“‘shit’ is right. you do know that gushing about a girl in a kpop group — not to mention a very popular one — might get you a good amount of attention? and don’t make a pun.” you hear his signature sigh from the other end of the line. “your fans and her fans are going wild, and some press outlets are running with ‘actor y/n’s crush on danielle from newjeans’ headlines.”
shifting yourself to the edge of your bed so your feet can dangle off, you groan into the phone. “i’m so, so sorry. i must’ve fucked up my image like crazy, god i’m so sorry for—”
“hey, wait.” he says calmly. “it’s actually not doing anything harmful. if anything people are into how much you admire the group, considering you’re quite the celebrity.”
“oh thank god–”
“it’s just not low-profile.”
heat crept up your neck, and you covered your face with one hand, your back meeting the mattress again. “i— yeah, i was tipsy. soobin is a terrible influence, and weren’t you—”
“i’m just your manager, i just work here y/n.”
you scoff playfully at his remark, then continue, “i guess i didn’t notice how much i talked about her. but it’s not—i mean, it’s not untrue, but still…” you trailed off, cringing at yourself as you placed a hand over your eyes.
mark lets out a sigh, softening a bit. “look, it’s not the end of the world. just be prepared for questions, and try not to fan the flames further if you don’t want this to become a bigger deal. but, you might want at least to have a statement or some kind of response ready.”
you nodded, even if he couldn’t see you. “yeah, okay. thank you for the heads-up. sorry.”
“and next time, maybe don’t go live after an after-party. don’t think i didn’t see you downing somaek with jennie.” he adds, the hint of amusement in his voice making you relax a bit. 
“noted. very much noted.”
after ending the call, you drop the phone beside you, your heart still thudding. with a deep breath, you opened twitter up, and just from your burner account you could see that you were trending. the timeline was overflowing: fans reacting to your confession, edits already circulating with your quotes—they even managed to find every clip of you mentioning or listening to newjeans, putting it in slideshows and edited videos. you can’t even lie, the effort is amazing. and even worse, or better? there were articles with headlines like “actor y/n admits to crushing on danielle from newjeans” and “actor y/n confirms she’s a hardcore newjeans fan.”
okay, hardcore might be a stretch.
(or maybe not.)
despite all this chaos, you couldn’t help but smile a little. you tap a quick text to your manager again: sorry again. i’ll be ready for whatever comes. 
and another, more impulsive, and raw message to your group chat with your best friends and  co-stars: i think i should just die. never going live again. someone needs to take my phone and burn it.
but as you scrolled and saw fans posting supportive, teasing comments like “we love an honest crush!” “y/n is lowk so cute for this” “it’s so refreshing to see celebrities being transparent about who they admire” and even a “y/n and danielle when??? y/nelle??”, you couldn’t suppress the slight flutter in your chest.
in contrast to your morning, danielle’s wasn’t all that stressful. maybe a little, but it didn’t have her laying in bed for an hour and pondering over every life decision she’s made. not like you did. 
danielle had been making eggs for her members — sunny side up for hanni, boiled for minji, and scrambled for the haerin and hyein — humming quietly to herself. the morning was relatively peaceful until hanni burst into the kitchen, phone in her hand with a mischievous grin on her face.
“dani, you won’t believe this.” hanni plops down on a stool at the kitchen island, turning the phone over. “you’re gonna want to see it.”
danielle raises an eyebrow, turning down the heat. “what is it?”
minji and haerin joined, peeking over hanni’s shoulder as she played the video clip. “y/n, you know, the one from that one coming of age movie you like? what was it… the one with— it doesn’t even matter. just look.”
danielle’s brows furrowed with confusion until hanni hits play. the room fills with the sound of your slurred, soft voice as you gush with genuine excitement. 
“oh yeah, celebrity crush, right. well, aside from newjeans being one of my favorite groups… they’re all talented and beautiful, of course, but oh my god. danielle?”
even minji and haerin gasp, looking at danielle in surprise. danielle’s jaw drops open slightly as she takes in the information: you, l/n y/n, are mentioning her. danielle marsh. but it gets even better.
“danielle is probably one of the prettiest people i’ve ever seen. her visuals are like, insane. like, she has this elegance to her, she’s glowing, but she’s also just really cute. i’ve seen some of their interviews and she’s so bright and bubbly and i just think she’s so adorable and— yeah. i love her energy.” 
the spoon danielle had been holding slips from her hand and onto the counter, clattering agains the marble as she stared at the screen. “wait— what?” her voice was barely above a whisper, her cheeks heating up.
 “look at you,” minji laughs, nudging her. “one of your admirers is an actor—a really popular actor, dani.”
“i—” danielle’s mind raced as she watched you on the screen, your eyes bright, cheeks flushed as you rambled on. the admiration in your tone made her heart skip a beat. it was one thing to know that you were at the same events as her, and another ot hear that you’d been paying attention to her. that you think she’s pretty. 
hyein seemed to pop out of nowhere, her arrival probably unnoticed from what was currently unfolding. “dani… someone who was in a marvel movie has a crush on you.”
danielle blinked. a smile broke out as she looked at her members. “you’re all ridiculous.” but even as she laughed, the warmth in her chest lingered. the fact that you, the actress she’d admired form afar and whose movies she’s watched with her family, thought of her like that—it was surreal.
minji raised an eyebrow knowingly. “come on dani, don’t act like you haven’t been wanting to talk to her at those events.”
“yeah dude,” hanni nudged her younger member. “she popped up in doctor strange and you started rambling about her.”
danielle’s smile turned shy as she rolled her eyes and turned back to the stove, her mind still replaying your words. 
maybe she’d muster up the courage to talk to you, just maybe.
you’ve been busy, to say the least.
the past week you’ve been interviewed a handful of times everyday. your movie starred the choi soobin and jeong jaehyun, which earned a lot of attention. what surprised you was just how much attention you’d receive. there were various edits of you being made, some even showed up on your social media and unfortunately your group chat. 
people had dug up scenes of you from your other projects, editing them and helping them resurface. it was safe to say you were growing as an actor, as if confessing your ‘love’ for danielle marsh didn’t already do enough. but who were you to complain? this was great. you were rising in popularity for not only your looks, but also your talents and personality. it was endearing — flattering you beyond comprehension.
the rise in popularity even led to you having to hop on a flight to japan, not only to be interviewed further, but also for an event for the brand you ambassador.
the celine event had an air of sophistication and elegance. it was a sort of luxurious haven where celebrities and models mingled under the crystal chandeliers, surrounded by other “fancy stuff” as you would say. soft music played, mixing in with the sound of conversations and clicks of cameras. attendees were showcasing the brand’s newest pieces for the season, with handbags being paraded, their metallic accents catching the light.
you fit quite well into the scene, it would be a lie to say you weren’t one of the main events. there was an effortless style exuded from you, clad in tailored slacks that were held perfectly by a leather celine belt. draped over your frame was a crewneck sweater with the brand’s logo, and to finish off the look you had another leather piece on your shoulder: a matching handbag to go with your belt. 
the first hour was spent smiling for the cameras and eavesdropping on the whispers about your recent rise in popularity. more cameras flashed, and journalists angled for a glimpse, but your focus soon shifted when an all too familiar figure stepped into view. maybe you’re overwhelmed, maybe it’s not her, there so many people here. at least that’s what you told yourself.
once you got a breather, taking the time to roam around the area, you barely had a moment to process before a gentle bump jolted you out of your thoughts.
a woman, draped in a stunning beige dress accented with a sleek grey blazer, stumbled slightly. instinct kicked in, and your hand shot out to catch her arm, steadying her. wide yes met yours, surprise softening into a shy, grateful smile as she regained her balance.
“oh my, i’m so sorry!” she breaths out, her cheeks tinting a faint pink. “i didn’t see you there.”
“are you okay?” you ask, your mind catching up to the moment. your gaze lingered as recognition fell over you 
danielle.
the feel of her arm in your grasp made your heart stutter, but you forced yourself to stay composed. 
“yes, i’m fine, thanks,�� danielle says, straightening up and tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “i never expected to bump into you. not like this—not literally.”
your smile turns sheepish. “i— i guess i made quite an impression,” you joke lightly, withdrawing your hand slowly.
her eyes light up with recogniition. “well, the live from last week was more of one,” she teases, her tone warm and playful. the mention of the live made your face heat up, and a laugh bubbled out as you glanced at the floor for a second.
“you saw…?” you ask, rubbing the back of your neck. 
“i think everyone did,” she giggled, her smile softening as she added, “it was... really sweet.”
the initial nervousness faded as the two of you fell into conversation, friendly and hesitant at first, but your words quickly became more confident as you both exchanged stories and thoughts on the celine events. compliments flowed naturally, and you found yourself surprised at how easy it was to talk to her beyond the admiration you held at a distance. danielle, on the other hand, grew noticeably more flustered as you threw in subtle flirtations—quick grins, playful remarks about how she looked so much better up close and in person.
“wow, it wasn’t the drinks that make you so… charming, huh?” she says with a small laugh, eyes shining as she tried to regain composure.
“well, i’m finally getting the chance to talk to someone i’ve been wanting to meet for a whike,” you admitted, voice soft and genuine. “i just wanted to be transparent, is that alright with you?”
“of course.” her smile turns bashful, and for a moment, silence settled between you two, comfy and warm. the lights dimmed as the models prepared for the runway, but neither of you paid it much attention even after being separated again.
after the showcase, you two found each other again, wanting to exchange numbers. 
“this is the first time i’ve given a fan my number.” danielle admits jokingly as you type in your contact information. you look up from the phone and smirk, sending a weird shiver down danielle’s spine.
“really? i’m honored.” you say, handing the phone back. “let’s talk soon, okay? i’d really love to be friends, and i’m really sorry for the whole livestream incident by the way. sorry again.”
she laughs, smiling at you and it’s really strange how it makes you feel all tingly. 
“it’s alright y/n. would you like to hangout when we’re back in korea? if that’s alright.”
“oh, yes, of course.” you smile at her once more before looking at the text from your manager: ride’s here, you ready? the notification earns a small sigh from you. you glance back at danielle and bite your lip to prevent a frown. “well, i’ll see you.”
“wonderful.”
when you think you’ve had your peak of attention, it just seems to grow more and more.
the morning after the celine event your phone buzzed against the nightstand of your hotel, waking you up. squinting, you reached for it, the device cool against your fingers. notifications flooded your screen, but at this point that’s nothing new. at the top, there was a teasing text from mark:
“looks like you made quite the impression last night. maybe your live wasn’t so bad for your social life, huh?”
curiosity piqued, you scrolled through social media, your eyes widening as countless photos of the event filled your feed. comments from fans were overwhelmingly supportive, celebrating the unexpected dynamic between you and danielle. 
most of the photos were candid shots—the two of you caught in conversation, eyes bright with amusement, smiles soft and natural. the internet had already begun to label you as friends (which you didn’t mind at all), though some comments and posts weren’t so subtle as they implied something more, playfully shipping you two as a potential couple.
you rolled your eyes — it was ridiculous — you weren’t even sure whether or not she liked girls like that. even if she did, the whole livestream™ probably weirded her out. what you sought was friendship, but the ship posts did make you smile to yourself. maybe you’re just weird. you figured you needed to snap out of it.
unfortunately for you, more photos entertained the idea of something more than friends. in them, you were gently holding danielle’s wrist, steadying her as she’d momentarily lost her balance that night. the angle caught the way her expression softened as she looked at you, an unguarded moment that felt oddly intimate, almost cinematic. 
you’ve acted in various romance scenes, but none of them were real. neither did any of them look as… jaw-dropping as this.
the caption on one post read: “the way they look at each other… could this be the start of something?” the reactions were a mix of heart emojis, enthusiastic comments, and threads analyzing your body language and every nuance of the pictures. your cheeks warmed as you scrolled through, noticing how even the simplest gestures were being magnified and dissected as if this were an advanced art course.
you reread the text from your mark, smiling as you typed back a short light-hearted response:
“maybe i should go live more often? haha”
even as you set your phone down, your mind replayed the moments from the night before—her laugh, the way conversation flowed effortlessly, and that brief touch that started to flood your mind. 
you simply had a friend crush on her, nothing more, right? probably, you hope,
danielle pushes open the front door of the dorm, the familiar warmth and laughter of her members greeting her as she set down her bags. before she could make it further into the living room, hanni glanced up from her phone and smirked knowingly.
“look who’s back! how was the celine event?” hanni’s tone was casual, but her eyes glimmered with mischief.
danielle’s brows furrowed slightly, but before she could answer, hyein popped up from the couch, waving her phone in the air. “more importantly, how was this?” she tapped on the screen, and a slideshow of photo’s appeared—the ones that had been trending online. danielle, dressed up elgantly, smiling up at you as your hand was on her wrist, both your expressions open and genuine.
“oh, that…” danielle felt her cheeks warm. “it was nice. we talked a bit actually, y/n is really cool!”
“really cool?” minji echoes from the kitchen, “that’s a new one.”
“she’s just a new friend i made who happens to be an actor,” danielle rushed out, even as a small uncertain flutter stirred in her chest. the words felt like they were only said to cover something up, but danielle couldn’t pinpoint what it was that she was trying to hide. she’d made new friends before, but none of them left her thinking about them the whole flight back home. she felt kind of restless in a way, but maybe that’s because you had a different kind of charm and aspect to you.
“a new friend and actor who also has a celebrity crush on you?” minji asks.
“people have celebrity crushes and that doesn’t mean anything, minji. besides, i’m not much of a celebrity to her anymore, am i? i mean we’ve met properly now.”
hanni raises a brow at danielle’s comeback, exchanging a look with hyein, who giggles. “right, just an actor who has expressed her admiration for you in great depth. okay.” hanni draws out the last word, amused. danielle crosses her arms, feigning annoyance but feeling a heat creeping up her neck.
the group finally eases off, shrugging and returning to their own chatter, but danielle couldn’t shake the lingering awareness. maybe it was just the newness of it all, you’re an actor, a very famous one now at least. 
her eyes dart to the pictures on hyein’s phone again. the moment you had caught her from stumbling was simple, just an instinctive touch, but there was something about it that replayed in her mind. it was confusing—this new, unfamiliar feeling. she hadn’t considered herself someone who might fall for a girl, and there’s nothing wrong with girl’s liking… girls. but you’re not a girl that she likes, at least not romantically. you’re just really pretty and nice, and besides, she hasn’t even gotten to know you on a deeper level.
still, she’s spiralling a little.
y/n: hey :-) i just got back to my apartment it was nice bumping into you! let me know when you’re free? if you’d like to grab a bite or something of course you’re really pretty in person sorry, i’m fangirling haha
soobin’s top half of his face is on the top right corner of your phone as you stare at the screen. you sigh, cringing at each text you’ve sent. soobin raises a brow at the sudden change in expression, plus the small pout on your face now.
“what now?” he questions.
“am i doing too much? what if she blocks me. what if i just die—”
danielle: hi! i was watching a movie with the members hehe it was really nice meeting you! i’ve been a fan of your projects i really liked your scene in doctor strange as well and in your recent film  you’re a very good actor!
you literally drop your phone, earning a confused noise from soobin. when you pick it up again, he’s making a face that asks for more answers, but you’re too busy waiting for texts to pop up after her little typing bubble forms.
danielle: i’m booked tomorrow, how about the day after?  you can pick the time and place 😁
y/n: i’m busy tomorrow and the day after unfortunately 😞 how about in three days?
danielle: i’m free in the evening 👍
y/n: that’s perfect! can’t wait
danielle: me neither ☺️ i really enjoyed talking to you at the event
y/n: aw, thanks you’re really cute  and sweet, danielle
danielle: im blushing stop!! hahaha i’ll text you in the morning y/n 😊❤️
y/n: okay! 
soobin is still on call with you when you drop the phone on your bed again. he hears a the sound of your feet kicking against the bed and a small squeal.
“what?” he squints at the screen as you pick your phone up again.
“danielle and i are hanging out on friday.”
he looks surprised as he says, “really?”
“why do you sound so baffled… i can make friends soobin…” you huff, pouting at him.
you exhale deeply as you look at yourself in the mirror. there’s a green, long-sleeve comme des garcon top that you spent way too much money on hugging you just right, accentuating the build of your arms that you worked very hard for due to the new movie. custom-tailored denim fits your legs loosely, held by the same celine belt you wore at the thrilling event.
to hide your identity a bit more, you wore a beanie and a zip-up hoodie on top (another piece of clothing you spent way too much money on. you need to stop buying vintage exclusively), as well as some sunglasses.
you head out of your apartment, slip a mask on, and take the elevator down. 
it’s been a while since you’ve walked around and enjoyed the area you lived in, so you decided to walk to where you agreed to meet danielle: your favorite cafe.
it was a fifteen-minute walk, a quick five-minute bus ride, then five more minutes of walking until you reached your destination. when you get there, danielle is already sat at a table. you catch her checking her phone and smile to yourself.
“hey,” you greet, sitting in front of her. “did you wait long?”
“not at all,” she shakes her head, then looks down at her drink. “i just got a latte actually, i was going to text you earlier. ah! i should’ve waited to buy–”
“no– no, it’s fine.” you assure, grinning. “i’ll buy one myself and meet you back here, give me a minute.”
“right, of course.” 
you give her another small grin before ordering something simple: an almond latte. you waited only two minutes for it before heading back to danielle. after placing down your mug, danielle looks amazed at the tulip design, pulling out her phone and taking a picture. it’s cute, the gesture, and her—but that’s for you to keep to yourself.
you meet back with danielle, who’s in the same booth by the window. the cafe was quaint and tucked into a quiet street corner, so there wasn’t usually much attention or people. you really liked that aspect, considering your status, so it easily became your favorite spot. 
and because there wasn’t much going on, it was easy for danielle to be under some sort of spotlight—in this case it’s the autumn afternoon glow hitting her features. you remind yourself that this is just a platonic hangout, obviously. it’s not exactly a date, maybe a friend date—but the closer you got to her the more you started to question the “friendly meet-up.”
“this place is so cozy,” danielle says, glancing around as she took a sip of her latte. “thanks for suggesting it! i’ve been so cooped up and busy, haven’t had much time to go around. plus, it’s nice to be somewhere new.”
“i um, thought you would like it…” you reply, stirring your coffee absentmindedly. “i mean i like it a lot. it’s my go-to spot, a little hidden gem when i first got to korea. it’s also really quiet at this time, so no chance of anyone recognizing us.”
danielle smiled at that, her cheeks warming. “i can’t tell if that’s comforting or more nerve-warcking.”
“is that so?” you tease, “afraid you’ll be stuck with me if no one interrupts?”
she laughs, shaking her head. “not exactly… i actually really like being here with you.”
you grin—a bit bashfully. “aw, i’m glad im here with you too. i still can’t get over the fact that i’m with newjeans’ danielle.” 
she shakes her head, absentmindedly stirring her straw in her iced latte as she looks at you. " well, i hope that now… between us... i can just be danielle, even dani, if you prefer that.”
she gives you a shy smile before dropping her gaze to her coffee, and for a second you swear you saw a faint blush on her cheeks. maybe it’s the light. 
“so,” she says, changing the subject, “is your schedule hectic these days? with what i’ve seen—you know, your promotions—shooting for movies and events; i don’t know how you do it.”
“sometimes i don’t know either,” you chuckle, shrugging. “it’s worth it though. its kind of surreal—i used to watch your performances before i was this… known… and think, ‘wow, she must be busy,’ but now i get it.”
“”really?” danielle raises an eyebrow, looking genuinely intrigued.
“uh—yeah. not just you! i hope i don’t sound weird… you know i used to watch all those celebrity interviews, korean and western artists, and i thought about my future being like that. um, anyways, yeah—you and your members are super talented. i mean, obviously you’re killing it in every way possible” 
danielle’s smile grows upon seeing the visible blush and how evidently flustered you are.
you sig heavily, “i’m not beating the fangirl allegations… sorry.”
she looks at you with a softness in her eyes, giggling before sipping on her drink. you noticed her cheeks were definitely tinged pink now. 
“that’s… really sweet. and, um, mutual. i’ve been a fan of your acting for a while now, actually. so this is all still kinda unreal.” she admits.
you both fall into comfortable conversation, sharing stories about work and laughing about awkward encounters with fans and strange industry moments. you felt completely at ease, and danielle’s laughter was contagious, filling the air with something warm. the feeling lingered even as you two left the cafe together.
the walk back was leisurely, your voices blending as the city got louder.
“do you get nervous though?” danielle asks after a while, pulling her jacket tighter against the breeze of the evening. “with acting, i mean. especially with bigger roles. i hope it’s not awkward to ask but… you know, with romance films too.”
“i get that question a lot, it’s not weird at all dani.” you nod as danielle hides the growing smile after hearing her nickname slip from your lips. “i’m always nervous. but i think i’d worry more if i didn’t feel like that, you know? it kind of keeps me on my feet, makes it feel real.”
she nods in understanding. “that makes sense.”
“you get it.”
as you neared her dorm building, a sense of bittersweetness crept in. the evening had gone by too fast, and you weren’t quite ready for it to end. you stopped a few feet from the entrance, scanning the area to make sure no one was around.
“right, i guess we’re here,” you muttered under your breath, looking back at her with a nervous expression.
she gives you a forced smile, something bittersweet. “yeah.”
“i’ll let you go now, i had a lot of fun.”
“me too.”
“yeah?”
“yeah.” danielle breathes out, her smile much more shy than before now. you catch her biting the inside of her lip just barely 
her eyes sparkle a bit, the streetlight reflecting off her pupils. you gaze at her for a few seconds more before nodding. before you can start to walk away, she steps forward and wraps her arms around you in a warm, gentle hug. your breath catches, but you quickly relax and reciprocate. it seems natural, like you were meant to be this close.
“thank you for today,” she murmurs, voice barely audible.
“thank you for agreeing to hangout despite my… unorthodox impression.” you reply with a giggle, your voice just as soft. “i’m glad we did this.”
when she pulls back, you meet her gaze, faces just inches apart. she looks at your almost dazed expression, with your cheeks flushed and lips slightly parted. you quickly caught herself and laughed, trying to play it cool.
“alright, well, i guess i’ll see you soon?” you say, shifting a little on your feet.
“yes,” she says, feeling her heart pounding a bit. “i hope we can do this again.”
danielle is a touchy person, this is visible on camera and to everyone she loves. still, it surprises you when she leaps back onto you, hugging you once more before slipping inside the building. 
you waited until she was out of sight before turning away, unable to keep the grin off your face.
the next day, more specifically the next evening, you have an interview at six.
you, your costars soobin and jaehyun, are all caught in an interview. there’s a white backdrop behind you all, with makeup artists adding final touches and shifting your hair. soobin’s in a simple cardigan and jeans, while jaehyun is wearing a sweater that compliments what soobin is wearing. you, on the other hand, are clad in something that makes you stand out more: metal frames, a blazer, and slacks. 
the camera’s start to roll, then the director gives you the green light.
the interviewer smiled warmly, leaning forward as he kicked off with, “so, congratulations on the movie! it’s been getting amazing reviews, and your performance as a supporting lead has been a major highlight. how does it feel to finally see it out in the world?”
you smiled, shifting in your seat. “honestly, it’s surreal. we put so much work into this film, and seeing people connect with it—it’s the best feeling. i’m really grateful.”
“let’s talk about filming,” he continues, glancing between the three of you. “what were the hardest and most fun parts of being on set?”
soobin jumped in first, grinning. “hardest part? probably the weather during those outdoor scenes. we were freezing half the time.”
you nod in agreement. “oh, definitely. there was this one night shoot where we were all layered up between takes, but as soon as the cameras started rolling, we had to act like it was summer. my teeth were literally chattering.”
“and the most fun?” the interviewer asks, tilting his head.
“the cast,” you said immediately, glancing at soobin and jaehyun. “we had such a good time together, even during the long hours. there were so many inside jokes and random moments that just made everything easier. it really felt like a family. they’re idiots, but i love them to death.”
“jaehyun, what about you?” the interviewer asked.
he chuckles. “for me, it was watching these two try to improvise during that one diner scene. they were so into it, and the director was loving it, but the rest of us were just trying not to laugh.”
you groan playfully. “don’t remind me! that scene was so… chaotic.”
the interviewer laughs, clearly enjoying the dynamic between the three of you. “speaking of scenes, do you have a favorite?”
“hmm,” you say, thinking. “i really loved the quieter moments, like the scene where my character finally opens up to soobin’s. it was just... really emotional and rewarding to film. looking over it really surprised how well acted-out it was.”
“and you two had such great chemistry,” he adds, raising an eyebrow knowingly. “fans are already talking about it. do you think that dynamic came naturally?”
you and soobin exchanged a look, and he smirked. “well, you know, y/n and i are professionals.”
“oh, stop,” you push him lightly, rolling your eyes with a laugh. “soobin’s great to work with, though. he made it really easy.”
“is that why you’re so good at teasing her?” jaehyun chimed in, earning a laugh from the room.
the interviewer leaned forward, suddenly switching gears. “speaking of fans, y/n, people have been buzzing about your recent live stream. you mentioned being a fan of danielle from newjeans, right?”
you felt your cheeks warm, but you nod. “yeah, i’ve been a fan of their music since debut. they’re insanely talented.”
soobin, your wrost enemy, grins. “she left out the part where she called danielle one of the prettiest people she’s ever seen.”
“soobin!” you protest, laughing but clearly embarrassed. “he’s just jealous that i talk to her more than he talks to bebe rexha.” you retort, earning a pout from soobin.
“she’s not wrong,” jaehyun chimes with a teasing smile. “every time her name comes up, y/n turns into a total fangirl.”
“okay, that’s enough,” you said, trying to shut them down but laughing too hard to be serious. “look, danielle is really sweet. we’ve texted a bit, even met in person, and she’s just as nice as she seems.”
the interviewer didn’t miss a beat. “so, what’s it like talking to someone you’ve admired for so long?”
you hesitate for a moment, then smile. “it’s honestly been really cool. she’s interesting and kind and just... really easy to talk to. and yeah, she’s absolutely gorgeous, but that’s probably not news to anyone. she’s everything i ranted about in my infamous livestream…”
the room erupted in laughter, and soobin locked eyes with the camera. “did you hear that, danielle? she thinks you’re gorgeous.”
you buried your face in your hands, groaning. “why did i agree to this interview?”
the interviewer grinned, clearly loving every second. “well, it sounds like you’ve made a great new friend. and who knows? maybe we’ll see her at one of your premieres and not just the celine event someday.”
“maybe,” you said with a shy smile, trying to brush it off. but deep down, the thought made your heart race.
the cast laughs, and so do you. the interviewer continues on, teasing soobin about his bloopers and viral photos. you tease him even more, considering it karma for him doing the same to you. and when you think you can’t laugh anymore, they bring up jaehyun’s old films and roles, embarassing him just a bit as well.
the city lights blurred outside your taxi window as you leaned back, phone pressed to your ear. danielle’s soft laugh came through the line, making your stomach flip for reasons you didn’t want to admit.
danielle decided to call you after your interview. when you asked why, she simply responded with a ‘why? do i need a reason to want to talk to you?’ which only made your stomach twist more.
��so,” she began, voice playful, “you survived the interview, huh? did your costars expose your secrets?”
you groaned dramatically. “they did. they kept teasing me about… well, you.” 
“about me?” her tone was teasing, but you could hear the hint of curiousity hidden in it.
“they’re relentless dani,” you mutter, though the smile on your face was obvious in your voice. “next time, i’m dragging them into a live stream and making them go through public humiliation.”
she laughs again, light and airy. you lean against the window and smile harder. “you’re quite dramatic, y/n. maybe they jus like pointing out the obvious~”
“the obvious?” you ask, feigning innocence.
“you know, ho wmuch you like me,” she teased, her words carrying something playful.
“oh shut up,” you groan again, laughing despite yourself. “i’m never live streaming again. you’ve ruined me.”
“you’re the one who brought me up in the first place,” she counters, tone smug. “don’t blame me for how smitten you are.”
“smitten? right…” you shoot back. “someone’s confident.”
“only because you keep giving me reasons to,” she quipped, but there was a slight softness in her voice now, like the banter was more of a cover. 
you’re impossible,” you say, shaking your head, your your smile only widened. you bite your bottom lip, twirling your hair ever so slightly. “but you’re also probably exhausted. you should get some rest.”
“aren’t you exhausted from the interview? i only had practice—you’re telling me to rest?” she teases, though her tone had softened further.
“i’m serious,” you say, voice queter now. “sleep tight, danielle.”
there was a pause on the other end, not awkward but lingering. “you two,” she said eventually, her voice just as soft.
you both stayed on the line a moment longer, neither of you wanting to hang up. finall, you broke the silence. 
“goodnight.”
“goodnight,” she echoed before the call ended, “stay safe.”
leaning your head back, you sigh, letting the giddiness settle in your chest. as the taxi pulled closer to your place, you decided to send her a picture—your post interview outfit, slightly rumpled, hair a bit messy, and a tired peace sign held up for the camera.
a moment later, her response popped up:
danielle:  cute
your heart skipped, and then another text followed.
danielle:  goodnight :-)
you stared at your screen for a long moment, grinning like an idiot, before typing back a quick ‘night.’ you tucked your phone away, feeling like you could float the rest of the way home.
“morning?” you respond tiredly, leaning against your counter. “something up?”
he huffs, great. 
“morning? try good afternoon,” your manager’s voice came through, laced with exasperation. “we have a situation.”
you already dreaded whatever was coming next. “are you serious?”
“i don’t know how you do it.”
“what?”
“how have you managed to go viral again? you and soobin this time: dating rumors.” he says. 
“what?” you respond in disbelief, “me and— me and that bitc— me and soobin? there’s absolutely no way.”
“there are pictures from the interview yesterday going viral,” your manager explained. “people are assuming that you and soobin might have something going on.”
mark hears you make a disgusted noise through the phone. “why the hell would they think that?”
“apparently, you two were standing close, there’s one of you leaning on him, and another where you’re laughing while nudging him. they’re harmless, bit fans are running with it. despite your whole danielle thing, fans are running with this. boy and girl, girl and boy—you know the gist, things run around faster and easier.
you groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. “that’s so gross—he’s soobin. he’s like… a brother to me. and i’m a lesbian.”
“i know that, trust me. but the internet doesn’t,” mark says dryly. “just be careful. maybe you two can talk to each other, clear the air?”
“okay, okay. i’ll talk to you later.” you muttered before hanging up.
you check out social media for a bit, looking at the pictures going around and furrow your brows at how platonic they look. a girl can’t lean on her guy friend anymore? okay… right.
immediately, you pull up your contacts, scrolling to soobin’s name.
y/n: we have heterosexual allegations
not even a minute later, your phone buzzed with an incoming call. you answered, alreadying rolling your eyes. “soob.”
“we have straight allegations?” he questions, voice filed with disbelief, even despair. “god, no. absolutely not… not you, especially.”
“thanks,” you deadpanned.
“you’re welcome,” he quips, “but seriously, what do we do? should we post something?”
“definitely. let’s make this clear before is spirals. people are already clipping us from other interviews and our scenes.” you say, standing up right. “i’ll post something on my instagram: the pictures we took yesterday. i’ll caption it something normal and you can just reply normally. simple fix, right?”
“perfect,” soobin agrees. “you post it, and i’ll repost. we’ll just step on the fire.”
within minutes, you were typing out the caption, attaching a candid picture from the event of you two laughing together. once the post was live, you refreshed your feed, watching as likes and comments poured in. soobin reposted it immediately with a laughing emoji, and soon enough, the narrative started shifting.
you couldn’t help but smile in relief as you saw comments like: “okay, but their friendship is so cute,” and “best friends of the industry!”
you texted soobin one last time: crisis = over. lunch sometime this week?
his reply was instant: only if you’re paying.
danielle scrolled through her phone, her face buried in the pillow as she lay on her stomach. the soft glow of the screen illuminated the quiet room, the only sounds being her occasional sighs and the muffled hum of her members beyond her closed door. 
twitter was like a battlefield, one she didn’t fully understand. the pictures of you and soobin, paired with captions like “new favorite couple?” and “look at their chemistry!” made her chest feel heavy in a way she couldn’t explain.
you’re just friends, she thought to herself. why do i even care?
yet, despite trying to brush it off, her fingers kept scrolling. she stared at the photos for longer than she wanted to admit, her stomach twisting uncomfortably. why did it feel like this? you weren’t hers, you’re your own person.
you two have only gone out together once, spent time with each other maybe twice, and haven’t really indulged in anything deeper. if anything it felt right that you and soobin were a thing, considering the chemistry she noticed in interviews and whatnot. still, she frowned, thinking there was something different between the two of you. especially the way you noticed and looked at her like no one had before.
a knock on the door broke her from her spiraling thoughts. before she could answer, haerin poked her head in.
“danielle? are you okay? you haven’t come out all morning.”
danielle quickly locked her phone, shoving it under her pillow. “i’m fine,” she lied, her voice muffled against the pillow.
haerin frowned, stepping inside and sitting at the edge of the bed. “you don’t seem fine.” she gently tugged at danielle’s arm. “what’s going on?”
danielle groaned but didn’t resist when haerin pulled the pillow away. “it’s stupid,” she muttered.
“stupid or not, you’re clearly upset. tell me,” haerin pressed, her tone soft but firm.
danielle hesitated before finally mumbling, “i saw the rumors about y/n and soobin.”
haerin raised an eyebrow, confused. “okay? why does that bother you?”
“i don’t know!” danielle sat up abruptly, running a hand through her hair. “it shouldn’t. but seeing those pictures… it just… it made me feel weird. i don’t like it, ugh!”
haerin tilted her head, studying danielle carefully. “weird how?”
danielle hugged her knees to her chest, avoiding haerin’s gaze. “like... sad. but that doesn’t make sense, right? i mean, she can date whoever they want.”
realization dawned on haerin’s face, and she leaned closer. “danielle... do you like y/n?”
danielle froze, her cheeks flushing. “what? no! i mean…” she trailed off, her heart racing. did she?
haerin waited patiently, her expression calm.
“i don’t know,” danielle admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “i’ve never felt like this before. and if i do… isn’t it weird? liking a girl? i’ve never done that before, i’ve never really liked anyone period… but if i did i figured it’d be a guy. i mean i kind of always noticed the female celebrities more and— oh my god, am i gay? i like girls… i think i’ve always liked girls. why am i realizing so late—”
haerin’s eyes softened. she reached out, placing a reassuring hand on danielle’s shoulder. “it’s not weird, danielle. it’s normal. liking someone—boy or girl—doesn’t make you any different. it just makes you human. it’s fine, it’s no big deal. like who you like.”
danielle looked at haerin, her eyes wide and uncertain. “but what if it’s not okay? what if i ruin things by feeling this way?”
haerin shook her head. “you’re not ruining anything. feelings can be scary, especially when they’re new. but you don’t have to figure everything out right now. take your time, okay? and no matter what, i’m here for you. i’ve been there, i think there are two others in the dorm that have been too.”
danielle nodded slowly, the weight in her chest lifting slightly. “thanks, haerin. i think… i just need some time to think.”
“of course, i understand,” haerin said with a small smile. “but for now, let’s get you out of bed. you’re not going to figure anything out by hiding under the covers. maybe you’ll think clearly after a bit of breakfast–brunch.”
danielle chuckled softly, letting haerin pull her to her feet. though her heart still felt heavy, haerin’s words gave her a small sense of comfort. maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.
 —
“no way am i spending that much on something i’ll only wear once,” he said, putting a jacket back on the rack.
you two were in some pop-up store downtown, meandering through racks of high-end clothing. the smell of fresh leather and faint hints of something floral lingered in the air. music hummed in the air, some type of house playlist. 
“you could always expensive it as a ‘costume piece’ for another project.” you laugh, fingers brushing idly against the fabric of a blazer nearby.
“if only it worked like that,” he snorted, glancing at you. “speaking of work, when’s the next press event? aren’t we supposed to fly out soon? there’s too much on my plate… but it’s worse for jaehyun.”
“next week,” you replied absentmindedly, your attention more on your phone than the clothes. the screen buzzed in your hand, and you glanced down immediately, eyes scanning the notification. it wasn’t from danielle. you frowned slightly and slipped the phone back into your pocket.
“that’s the third time you’ve done that in five minutes,” soobin noted, a small grin on his lips. “let me guess—waiting for a certain someone to text? a certain singer~?”
your ears burned. “what? no. i’m just—i don’t know, checking stuff. my um,” you cough, “my mom…”
“checking stuff…” he repeated, his smirk growing. “you are not slick. it’s danielle, isn’t it? waiting for her?”
he laughs when you roll your eyes at him, then raises a brow when you don’t deny it.
“you’re so obvious.” he teases, nuding your shoulder. “it’s cute though. fangirl crush to… whatever this is—’text flirtation’?”
“oh my god, you don’t shut up do you?” you say, though the corner of your mouth twitches into a smile. before you could retort further, your phone buzzed again—when you check it this time, danielle’s name lit up on the screen. without hesitation, you step away and hold up a hand to soobin.
“hold that thought,” you say, walking a few feet away for some privacy.
“hey,” you greet, trying to keep your voice casual, though you couldn’t stop the slight hint of excitement.
“hi,” her voice is soft through the phone, and you could hear the faint sound of city traffic in the background. “are you busy?”
“no, not at all,” you assure her. “i’m shopping with soobin. what’s up?”
there was a brief pause on her end before she says, “i was wondering if you’d want to go on a walk tonight? it’s been a long day, and i though it’d be nice to… you know, just talk. ah! i hope you don’t mind… i just… missed you. i know we’ve hangout only a few times, but i really like your energy! oh god, i’m rambling aren’t i—”
“i’d love that.” you smile into the phone, balancing your weight on one foot then the other. “that’s perfect, yeah of course. don’t worry about rambling… don’t ever.”
“okay,” her tone lighter now. “well, i have a shoot. i’ll text you more details, okay?”
“perfect. i’ll see you.” you say, feeling a little giddy as you hang up. 
when you walked back over to soobin, he was leaning against a rack of coats, eyebrows raised knowingly. 
“someone looks happy,” he teases, “let me guess—date?”
“not a date,” you correct him, though the hear rising to your cheeks betrayed you. “just a walk, you know.”
“that’s gay.” he mutters, earning a shove. he smirks at you, then adds, “well whatever helps you sleep at night—even if that’s a ‘walk.’”
you shoved his shoulder again, but the smile lingered on your face. even as you tried to focus on the clothes in front of you, your thoughts were already elsewhere counting down the hours until tonight.
the riverside was serene, the water reflecting the city lights in the rippled patterns. the air was crisp but not biting, just how you like it. you spot danielle standing by the railing, her arms wrapped around herself as she gazed out over the water. her hair caught the light, framing her face in soft waves—her natural hair always left you in awe—and for a moment, you just stood there taking in the sight.
“hey,” you call, breaking her reverie.
she turned, her face lighting up with a warm smile. “you made it! hi.”
“of course. why would i miss it?” you say, stepping closer until you were side by side.
the two of you started walking, the rhythm of your steps syncing naturally. conversation came easily, as it always did with her. danielle talked about her schedule, how she’d been trying to find a balance between work and rest. you shared bits about your own projects, the highs and lows of the past week and even something you might audition for.
“it’s a lot sometimes,” she admits, glancing at you. “but i guess it’s just part of it, you know? the good things outweigh whatever is bad.”
you nod. “for sure. but it’s okay to feel overwhelmed too. you’re doing amazing, though. seriously.”
she looks down, a shy smile tugging at her lips. “thanks. that means a lot.”
as the conversation flowed further, the distance between the two of you shrank until your shoulders brushed with each step. the contact was subtle, but it was the only thing you could think about. you were hyper-aware of the space—or lack thereof—between you. danielle didn’t pull away, and neither did you.
a light breeze swept by, and you noticed her ears twitch. without thinking, you pulled your beanie off and held it out to her. 
“here,” you say, “it’s not much, but i think it’ll help.”
“oh, no, it’s okay,” she starts, but you were already placing it gently over her head, adjusting it so it fit snugly.
“looks good on you,” you admit, stepping back to admire her. “actually, you look better in it than i do. i might have to let you keep it.” 
she laughs softly, her cheeks pink from more than just the cold. “you’re just saying that.”
“i’m not,” you reply, voice light but sincere. “trust me.”
she looks at you for a moment, her eyes warm and searching before breaking into a smile. “thanks.”
you resumed walking, the easy conversation picking up again, but the air between you felt different now—warmer, closer. 
as the night wore on, the city seemed to fade away, which left the two of you. your steps were in rhythm and your hearts quietly beat at the same time, to another rhythm that neither of you wanted to name.
the sound of leaves rustling fills the spaces between your conversation as you and danielle continued to walk along the riverside. the path was lit by lampposts, casting a soft light that made everything seem dreamlike. danielle, however, seemed distracted, her steps just a fraction slower than before.
“soooo,” she begins, voice tentative. “i saw something earlier.” 
you turned your head to look at her, curious. “yeah? what was it?”
“pictures of you and soobin had been going around on twitter,” she says, glancing sideways at you. “people were… assuming things.”
it took you a second to realize what she meant, but when you did, you let out a short laugh. “oh, that. again?”
she nods. her expression remained the same as normal, but her hands fidgeted with the sleeves of her sweater. “yeah. you two seem close.”
“we’re realy close.” you say easily, not noticing the slight edge of hesitation in her tone. “but not like that. soobin’s like… my brother? maybe a favorite cousin. it’s very platonic.”
her eyes darted up to meet yours, flickering with something unreadable. “oh,” she says softly, her voice a little brighter. “i guess that makes sense.”
you tilt your head, catching the faint shift in her demeanor. “besides,” you added, a small smirk tugging at your lips, “i’m one hundred percent gay. women only.”
danielle’s steps faltered for a brief moment again, and you noticed the way her cheeks flushed under the streetlights. she recovered quickly though, and let out a small laugh. “oh. that’s good to know.”
“yeah,” you nod and shove your hands into your pockets. “soobin’s great, but absolutely not my type. not even close.” 
danielle chuckles, her gaze fixed ahead now. “when did you figure that out? you know, about being gay?”
you thought for a moment, the question catching you a little off guard but not unwelcome. “probably when i was in high school,” you admitted. “i mean, i always kind of knew, but it really hit me when i found myself completely zoning out over this one girl in my art class. she was kind of like you, pretty and nice and sweet and—” you stopped yourself, “yeah…”
danielle smiels, her curiosity evident now. “was it hard? like, coming to terms with it?”
“it had its moments,” you say honestly. “i was scared at first, like, what people would think or how my family would react. but once i told myself it was okay to just... be myself, it got easier. and i’ve been lucky—my friends and family have been super supportive. it’s normal anyway… being infatuated, finding girls attractive, and,” you look at her a little closer now, “having crushes on girls.”
danielle nods, her gaze lingering on you a beat too long before she looks away. there was something… softer in her expression now, a quiet kind of admiration mixed with something else. you noticed the shift but didn’t comment, not wanting to break the moment.
“that’s nice,” she says finally, her voice quieter than before. “i think it’s brave.”
you shrugged, trying to play it off, but the sincerity in her tone made your chest tighten. “just being honest, i guess.”
the conversation pauses, but the air between you felt warmer now, more intimate. danielle’s eyes flicker to you again, her expression thoughtful, and you couldn’t help but feel like you were walking closer—not just in steps, but in something unspoken between you two.
“why do you ask, anyway?” you question.
“ah, well—” she completely short circuits, trying to find the right words. “there’s, well, i think i um, i like someone. i don’t know, well, i do.”
you raise a brow, looking at her confusingly.
and then it hits.
she’s avoiding your gaze, fidgeting with her fingers, and the blush on her cheeks is apparent. it’s all apparent: she’s asking you about liking girls, calling you when she can, texting you, complimenting you—it all makes sense now, everything leading up to it. and you’ve been dropping hints too, but you never noticed hers.
“and what’s this girl like? is she nice?”
“ah– well, it’s— i don’t know. she’s really sweet, but anyway,” she tries to shift the conversation, but you butt in.
“i’ve been kind of into this girl actually.” you admit, kicking a rock on the ground nervously. 
“really?”
you hum.
“what is she like?” danielle asks, glancing at you shyly now.
“well,” you start, sucking in the courage to continue on. “she’s really pretty, and i managed to get closer with her in just two months. i always had a little friend crush on her, but even so i always thought she was gorgeous.”
“is that so?” danielle’s cheeks flush a bit as the realization starts to hit. “what else?”
“well, the more we got to know each other the more i found myself thinking of her late at night. she’s easy to talk to and i really like that about her. i’m pretty into her, and i think a lot of people know it despite how much i try to deny it.” you shrug, looking at the ground. “um, w-what is your girl like? the girl you like.”
there’s a smile on her face, one that would be impossible to wipe off.
“she’s… she’s really cute.” danielle says bashfully. “she’s kind, funny, caring, and i kind of grew to like everything about her. i can’t stop thinking about her and talking about her to my members, and when she posts or something about her goes viral i can’t help but go a little crazy. she accidentally revealed her crush on me to a lot of people and i couldn’t believe it, even now i’m unsure…”
“well i think she likes you a lot.”
“do you?”
“mhm.” you stop in your tracks, watching danielle take a few steps before stopping. you two stare at each other for a bit, struggling to maintain eye contact. “i think she’s been trying to ignore the fact that she’s in love with you, but can’t because you’re impossibly easy to fall in love with.”
danielle blushes, stepping closer and pushing your shoulder as she tries to compose herself.
“okay,” she mutters quietly, looking down at the ground. “do you think she could close her eyes?”
“maybe.” you nervously say as you close your eyes, huffing shakily. 
danielle stares at you, features a little tense—really all of you is tense—before leaning up a bit and pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek. 
she pulls away, blushing furiously. 
you open your eyes, blinking twice to make sure none of it is a dream. danielle stands in front of you, biting down on her teeth to try to keep herself from going insane. she looks away, scared and flustered all at the same time.
“do you think she… do you think she liked that?”
you nod, “yeah, but she thinks you missed.”
“what—”
you cut her off, tilting her chin up and pressing a quick peck to her lips. 
danielle gasps, then looks at you with widened eyes. seconds later she leans forward, meeting you in a longer kiss. 
she melts a bit, your bottom lip trapped between hers as she slides her hand over to your neck. and when she pulls away, she hides her face near your ear. 
“did she, did she think that was okay? i’ve never um, kissed a girl before—i haven’t kissed anyone before.”
“i think she wants to kiss you again.”
danielle laughs, pulling away and cupping one of your cheeks with her hand. it’s small and soft and warm all at the same time against your burning skin. you smile as she brushes her thumb over, nodding.
“i think i want to kiss her again too.”
135 notes · View notes
f1amour · 3 days ago
Note
heyyy! can i request “i’m scared of losing you” (from angst1) with oscar piastri?
❝ i’m scared of losing you ❞ — oscar piastri
Tumblr media
pairing | oscar piastri x reader
content warnings | lots of miscommunication, angst, comfort, happy ending
★ JOIN MY SHORT N SWEET FRIENDSGIVING !
─────────────────────────
it had been a few months since you last attended a race due to your job obligations but in oscar’s eyes he only saw it as one thing; you’ve missed him winning a race, twice now.
in his eyes he thought you may no longer love him that he wasn’t worth enough for you. however, in your eyes you believed he no longer loved you especially due to his lack of presence in your life and never asking you to join him for a race weekend in months. both of you afraid to lose each other didn’t touch on the subject and living as if everything is okay.
until it wasn’t.
“i may not win another race this season but i would appreciate your support! you weren’t there for my two wins and i…i’m tired of this,” oscar argued back, you had both gone out to dinner in monaco after he returned from singapore. it started with a sweet conversation of what to do for the break to now bitter comments towards each other.
“tired of what? of me? i’m trying, oscar. i just started my third year of university and then work—.”
“work! it’s always work this work that. they always need you for something even though it’s not even in your title to do all that! you drop everything to be there for them but you can’t be there for me not even once…baby?” his mean words hit you immediately and you sit on the couch of your apartment hands covering your face as you sob uncontrollably.
“baby, yn…hey, hey breathe with me. it’s okay i’m here” oscar whispers on your ear, both arms cradling you now. was it okay? his approach may not have been the best but he wasn’t wrong. your job had been putting too much on your plate when you were meant to just be an underpaid intern who was doing multiple jobs that were not your responsibility.
“but you aren’t here, osc. i…i know that your career is demanding but you didn’t take a second to look back and realize i ease being left behind. i feel guilty i wasn’t there for your two wins especially your first. i begged my job to let me just visit you for a day to celebrate but they made me stay. it wasn’t even my day to work and i still stayed. i chose a job that doesn’t value me over you…you do care about me maybe not right now—.”
“i’m gonna stop you right there. i’m an idiot who didn’t bother asking how you’ve been recently and expecting you to support me more when i didn’t see what you’d been going through. i’m so sorry,” he whispers, his forehead pressed against yours kissing your tears away.
you whisper out five words you’d been feeling for awhile now, “i’m scared of losing you,” closing your eyes ready for oscar to say you’ve already lost him, “i’m scared too.” his voice matches your vulnerability.
opening your eyes looking at him in shock, “you are?” you felt like you were both taking a big step in admitting this. maybe, just maybe this would help in repairing your relationship.
“i am. i think we’ve been selfish towards each other but we also haven’t communicated right. i should have asked you more about how the job was treating you-,”
“i should have asked you how the team had been treating you.” you counter back and he chuckles.
“i know you want to be independent when it comes to your career. but i think you should quit that job and focus on school only. i know you don’t want me to take care of you financially but just let me do that for now until you graduate and find a job that will value the skills you have. i can’t lose us. i can’t lose you, yn. i love you.” his words filled with nothing but love, oscar meant well and for once you decide to take him up on the offer he’d been giving you since you started dating two years ago.
“okay.” a simple word replacing your frown into a smile on each others faces. there was work to do on your communication with each other but for now you both got to breathe a sigh of relief after facing a fear that would no longer happen.
87 notes · View notes
oddthumbswetsleeves · 2 days ago
Text
Hiding - Oneshot
Inspired by this post by @crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington <3
“Have you heard from B today?”
Elita-1 looked up from her datapad at her former-incompetent-subordinate turned leader. He looked stressed, or maybe nervous? It was hard to tell ever since he received the matrix.
“No. I haven’t seen him since the last time he messed up putting the supplies in storage.’ She looked back at the forms she was filling out. “He’s probably avoiding us cause he’s embarrassed.
“Embarrassed?” Optimus sounded confused. Elita realised she had neglected to tell the prime about B’s latest incident.
“He put a lot of the supplies he was sorting into the wrong places. I mean, seriously! I gave him possibly the easiest job I could have, and he still messed it up.” Optimus didn’t look like her answer had put him at ease. “He’ll be fine. If he’s embarrassed it might teach him to listen a little more.”
“Just-“ They met optics, “Tell me if you see him, or if you can get through to him. He won’t answer my comms.” He sighed. “I’m worried.”
He definitely looked nervous now.
“Yeah, sure.” Elita went back to reading. Optimus was silent for a moment, as if he wanted to say something else, but left quickly.
Once he was out of audial-range she tried B-127’s comm, certain Optimus was exaggerating. B never missed an opportunity to blabber.
“B”
Nothing
“B-127, respond.”
Still nothing
“B, this isn’t funny. Answer me.”
Silence
Elita never thought she would be able to use that word to describe the yellow bot. She started feeling slightly worried before it was replaced with something else.
How dare he hide away from his duties as an Autobot because he was embarrassed. He wasn’t the only one struggling with his new status. Being the Autobot commander and essentially second-in-command of Cybertron was exhausting. Every moment she wasn’t recharging or refuelling she was working. B was not going to get away with skirting his duties.
She was gonna find him.
Where the frag was he?
Elita had spent nearly half the orn asking around for the little mech. No one had seen him since she had. Not Jazz, not Ratchet, not even Prowl, who was usually aware of all Autobot activity. The other scouts had gibed her about B-127’s unrivalled skills in what they called “Extreme Hide and Seek”.
“If B’s hiding from you there’s no chance you’ll find him” one taunted. Primus, she hated being around the scouts, nosy bunch.
“Wait, why do you think he’s hiding from me?”
“Why else would you be looking for him? He’s told us about how busy you are.” Another one answered.
“Well, you’re not helping!” She stormed off before they could peeve her off more.
Elita was definitely getting hangry, so she decided to stop to get energon before anyone could risk mentioning it to her. Everyone had really been enjoying the abundance of it. The decreasing rations had been affecting the cogless bots hard. She remembered after being transferred to waste management seeing how some of the supervisors were stealing others rations off the delivery lines for themselves. That was one of the first things she fixed, especially since many of the bots on lower levels didn’t leave their stations during their breaks. Mostly the bots on the sub-
The sub-levels
“The best hiding spots are ones that other bots don’t know exist.” B-127 told her that once while he was training to be a scout. He was mostly talking about places that taller bots couldn’t get to, but almost no one knew about the 10 extra sub-levels.
“Scrap”
The elevator rattled more the lower it went. It was also getting noticeably hotter. The doors opened and after stepping out they surprisingly didn’t close behind her. Strange. She didn’t say anything at first, trying to hear any noise that wasn’t coming from the furnace.
She felt isolated.
Even though Elita knew she could contact anyone she wanted instantly, there was just something about the room emanated loneliness, but B had to be here.
She looked around. The room was small, nothing besides the furnace, the conveyor belt, and the trash chute.
Unless…
One of the walls seemed to have a handle, and when she moved it... Another room! She pushed it over.
What on Cybertron?
The walls were lined with multicolour string lights. The room had a table and chairs, but in the chairs were 3 piles of trash. They were kind of bot shaped. She guessed one of these were what “Steve” was, who Orion supposedly killed and D-16 insisted wasn’t real. Primus this guy was weird. Just before she turned away, she saw it. There was something golden-yellow barely poking up from behind the table. Elita had to stop herself from groaning. Some hiding expert he was.
“B” He didn’t move. Elita crossed her arms.
“B-127 I can see you.” He slowly ducked out of view. Elita’s face scrunched up, “Get out here right now or so help me, I will drag you back up to Iacon by your finials.”
The bot cautiously stood up, looking anywhere except her face. Neither one said anything for a few moments. Elita tapped her finger against her arm, making sure B could hear it. He still did not say anything. Elita started feeling nervous again, B didn’t even recharge this quietly. She wouldn’t show it though, he wasn’t getting any pity from her.
“Well?” she prompted.
“Why are you down here?” He asked quietly.
“I could ask you the same thing.” Elita leaned forward, but B still didn’t look up. “Why are you hiding? Do you think I’ll just forget your screw-up if I don’t see you for a few orns?”
“I’m not hiding. You know I’m here now, you can go back to work.” He fidgeted with his servos.
“What, so you can keep sulking here?”
“I’m not sulking.” His voice was low, but a bit rough.
Had he been crying?
“Then why are you down here?”
“You were really mad at me the last time I messed up. You said I was running out of chances.”
“So?” Her gaze steeled. His breath hitched.
Was he going to cry again?
“Well, that’s what supervisors used to say to me before I would get demoted” their optics met, “and you were a supervisor…”
“So, you came down here?” She gripped her arms a bit tighter.
“I’ve never had a boss who was my friend before.” He looked down at his servos, still keeping his voice low. “I just didn’t want to see your face when you decided to give up on me.” Fluid dripped from his optics.
“Give up?” Her voice was suddenly much softer. She cleared her throat. “Why would you think I’d give up on you? We’re friends, you said it yourself.”
“Megatron was Optimus’ friend, and he dropped him to the centre of Cybertron.”
Elita felt a pang in her spark. That might have been the scariest moment of her life, including everything that happened leading up to it. B had been the one to stop her from trying to grab Orion as he plummeted. In the frenzy she might have fallen after him. B had probably saved her life.
She was definitely failing to hide her pity now.
They were both silent for a while, the furnace rumbling softly behind her. Elita sighed and walked around the table. B shrunk under her gaze. This was the first time she had ever felt bad about making a subordinate scared of her. She put her servos on his shoulders, taking care to be gentle, and bent down slightly to be at optic level with the scout.
He was definitely crying.
Elita wrapped her arms around him tightly. He tentatively moved his servos up to her back. She felt him shake.
“Are you not mad at me?” B’s voice quivered. She sighed, squeezing tighter.
“I’m not sure I am anymore.” Letting go to hold his shoulders again. He sniffled and she moved her servos to cup his face. “Why haven’t you answered any comms? Optimus is practically beside himself.”
“I didn’t know you guys were calling me.”
“What?! Is your commlink broken?” She turned his helm to look at his audials. He pulled her servos away from his face. They had tears on them.
“No.” He looked towards the furnace. “I’m pretty sure no signals reach down here from the surface.
Elita’s face scrunched. She turned away, reaching a digit up to her commlink.
“Optimus, come in.”
No response. She swore quietly.
“We’re going back to Iacon before the boss starts pulling walls down to find you.” She held her servo out. B hesitated.
“He’s looking for me?”
“Of course he is. Why wouldn’t he be?” B tapped his pedes nervously.
“I thought you guys were kinda fed up of me.” Elita chose not to address that. She grabbed his servo and pulled him towards the elevator. It was still open.
“How come these doors didn’t close behind me?”
“Cause they don’t open from this side. It’s so if somebot comes down here to get something they won’t get stuck.”
“But that means…” Her spark sank in her chassis.
“Yeah, I can’t call the elevator.”
She stared at him. She felt the rage she frequently had for Sentinel and his lackeys build up.
“So you planned on staying down here forever?” B started wringing his servos again.
“I dunno”
“Well how would you have come back up if I hadn’t found you here?”
“Optimus, Megatron and I climbed up through the chute.” He pointed at it. “I probably could have done that again.”
“Would you have?”
B didn’t answer.
“You’re coming back to Iacon with me.” She put a servo on his shoulder. “I cleared my schedule when I went looking for you so we can do whatever you want, ok?” She led him into the lift. He shrugged. “There are a couple movies I’ve been too busy to watch. We can watch them in my quarters if you want.”
“Sure” He smiled for the first time since she found him.
“We do have to go see Prime first. I’m a bit worried he has actually turned headquarters upside down in my absence.” B giggled. Elita felt a weight lift off her spark. Once the elevator started moving, she pulled him into another hug, more forcefully this time.
“Never scare me like that again, or I will actually kill you.”
“Okay”
88 notes · View notes
revelboo · 17 hours ago
Note
Hey darlin’, I hope you’re doing well!!! Congrats on the 1k!!! Thank you for sharing all your wonderful work!!! If it’s not too big an ask, have you ever considered doing any writing for Swerve??? I’m afraid that lil mech makes me melt and I see a lot of myself in him haha
He’s definitely fun to write
Tumblr media
Hangman
IDW Swindle x Reader
• There’s an art to deceiving someone. It’s not in his voice or tone, it’s in finding what they need to believe and taking full advantage. Verbal sleight of hand. And it pays to know what everyone needs, because while he can and will find a buyer anything they desire, it’s information he deals in. Rumors, secrets, and gossip. A lot of it never pans out, but some of it? Sometimes he’s caught completely off guard, like now. Staring at the impossible little human that just blipped into what seems be very painful existence with a choked cry almost in his hands as he’s sorting through inventory. Because apparently that big moron with Krok’s rambling had been true not just his flavor of crazy. Who’d have guessed?
• Eyes streaming as your whole body burns without flames, you’re only dimly aware of falling and hitting something warm. Just curling into yourself, there’s a feeling of pins and needles running through you as you struggle to suck in a breath. What was that? Head lifting slightly, you stare uncomprehendingly at four big cylinders inches from your face, making a noise when they curl toward you and you crane your neck. Because those are hands. And they belong to a monster staring down at you in surprise. There’s no thought beyond getting away, trying to fling yourself out of this thing’s hand. Falling headfirst into a slightly musty smelling mountain of clothes.
• For a tiny thing, you’re surprisingly fast and hard to hold onto. Trying to burrow into his inventory to avoid him, but finally he catches you by a leg and drags you out. Braces for the screaming, but your expression is pure calculation as you twist and try to wiggle free. “Alright, Squishy. Spill. How’d you get on my ship?” Because that’s what he needs. Intel.
• Ship as in space ship? Because this thing gripping you by a leg is definitely not from your planet. You can’t be on his ship. You’d been at work, right? This is definitely not where you’d been only minutes before, though. If big and scary didn’t beam you up, how’d you get here? There’s no time to puzzle it out, because he’s hauling you up by a leg. “Put me down or I’ll lay eggs in you,” you blurt out, feeling like an absolute idiot, because this thing obviously knows about humans. It was human clothes you were rooting through, after all. And that’s what you’d gone with?
• You’re lying to a liar? Lips twitching he vents in amusement. “That so, human? You’re really going to try to con me?” So maybe he doesn’t know that much about actual humans aside from the general squishiness, but he can tell a liar when he sees one. And you’re bad at this. “Try again.”
• Dangling there feeling the blood rushing to your head, you just give up and flip him off with both hands, because if you’re going to die anyway it might as well be with one last petty bit of rebelliousness. And he laughs, nearly dropping you back in the clothes. “You know what? I think we might be able to work together to make a profit,” he says, optics narrowing as his grin widens. Not sure what to make of him or any of this craziness. Then he does drop you into the pile, still laughing as you yelp.
89 notes · View notes
ghostgirl-22 · 3 days ago
Note
what was patrick’s reaction to seeing art in his skimpy briefs for the first time? 👀 he’s only ever seen him in baggy boxers so how do you think he’d react seeing art’s thighs and ass in those panties?
Oh he definitely went crazy…
CW: 18+ !NSFW!
—-
Patrick’s sneaking into their hotel room because he woke up to a message on his phone saying: come now Lily’s still sleeping. Luckily enough he was hard when he woke up. Well that wasn’t so much luck as it was a day ending in y.
Tashi smiles at him, easing her panties back on as he walks in. It’s all she’s wearing, black lace panties and she pulls a grey t-shirt over her head.
“Wait, no…you guys couldn’t wait for me,” Patrick says exasperated, tugging at her t-shirt and pulling her close to him.
Arts lying on his side, slightly flushed under the blankets staring at them.
“We texted you 20 minutes ago,” Tashi says.
“I just woke up. First thing I did was brush my teeth and come over.” Patrick looks her over, she’s glowing. Beauty that takes his breath away especially when she’s this close, full lips that look so soft and her doe eyes gazing at him. He kisses her, he can’t help himself and as her lips part for him, he eases his tongue inside. She pulls back curling her manicured fingers into his hair.
“Give me a minute I’ll be right back and then we can— you know,” she says.
“Where are you going?”
“My mom called, I’m gonna take Lily over there and then I’ll be back.”
Patrick glances back at Art, he’s still laying there, chewing his bottom lip.
“I should’ve slept in here, no text was gonna wake me up after that fucking grueling match.” He grumbles.
“It’s too confusing,” Tashi sighs. “We introduced you as Uncle Patrick. And her other uncles don’t sleep with mommy and daddy.”
Patrick grins. He knows it’s not appropriate but he loves when they refer to themselves as mommy and daddy. He sighs and attempts to slide his fingers inside her, her panties are already soaked.
“I said… wait,” She bats him off playfully and he licks his finger tips.
“Mmkay mommy,” he smirks and she rolls her eyes. A million years later he’s never forgotten the way she tastes, it melts like candy on his tongue. “You should’ve told her I’m scared of the dark and need mommy and daddy to protect me.” Patrick says.
“Yeah, tell her that and there would’ve been four of us in bed.” Art says, coolly.
“Exactly,” Tashi says. She grabs a pair of jeans that were draped over the chaise lounge and steps into them. Patrick still can’t believe that she’s real. That any of this is real.
Tashi leaves the bedroom and Patrick lingers a moment, pondering whether to come back later or stay. He still hasn’t talked to Art. Not in the way they should. He would have fucked them both last night if he could, but they were both too busy being mommy and daddy and daughter and son in law while they all went out for a celebratory dinner so Patrick was forced to be on his best behavior.
Art rolls over to look at his phone, he’s stretching out on the bed and that’s when Patrick gets a peek.
His ass in tight little briefs.
That was never Art’s thing before but now he’s all grown up. And good god did he grow up. Instead of boxers he’s all packed into that slutty barely there fitted underwear.
Patrick rubs himself idly through his boxers as Art turns back to look at him. “So this has to be your dream come true?” Art says.
“Uh huh,” Patrick says distractedly, thinking Art must be talking about his ass in those panties. Now that Arts on his back, the blanket no longer covering him, Patrick can see the line of his cock in the briefs. He’s not entirely hard but he isn’t soft either.
“This works out just perfectly for you,” Art continues dryly, oblivious to the way Patrick is fixated on him. “You get to keep fucking my wife and now all I get is to know when your doing it. Maybe this was your plan all along.”
“Sure,” Patrick smirks, he’s not really listening to him. The words he’s saying. It just nonsense. None of it stings the way it did 48 hours ago in the sauna when Patrick simultaneously wanted to fuck him and fuck him up. Now it just sounds like meaningless words in his familiar know-it-all lilt.
All while Art’s body is making so much noise. His thighs, creamy white contrasting with the dark blue underwear, peeking out from beneath the blanket. Solid, toned, just like his perfect fucking abs. Patrick wants to bite at the cut of his waist. He’s so clean shaven Patrick knows he won’t find much hair there if any, when he gets those fucking briefs off. Maybe he doesn’t want to take them off. Maybe he wants to push them to the side, suck him off while they're still on. Hear Art moan as they’re pulled too tight squeezing his balls.
“You know you can’t just get rid of me that easily.” Art is still talking, talking, talking.
“Uh huh,” Patrick climbs on the bed.
“Like even if she likes you more I’m still her husband. And I beat you yesterday which means—”
”What?” Patrick asks, pulling the blanket down so everything is exposed. “What does it mean?”
“It means— w-what are you doing?” Art asks.
“What does it look like I’m doing?”
“She’s— she’s probably talking to her mom, she’ll be back in a minute.”
“Yeah I know,” Patrick nudges his thighs. Art’s cheeks are suddenly blooming with color. “Is that all you wear when you go to sleep? Hm?” Patrick asks, softly.
“I uh— some nights.”
“It’s so—“ Patrick pulls at the briefs trying to get a good look inside.
“Patrick.” Art breathes, pushing his hands away. But he’s going from kinda hard to the fabric stretching so far it’s just barely able to contain him.
“What? I hear you Art. Blah blah blah. It’s my dream come true that I get to fuck your wife. Blah blah blah. I can’t get rid of you. You think I want to get rid of you? You really think that’s what I fucking want? That I’ve been waiting over a decade just to get rid of you.”
Art’s staring at him. He’s trying to go for confusion but his eyes are hooded. His chest is heaving.
“Does she fuck you like a slut?” Patrick asks gently, Art takes a breath and tries to look away but Patrick touches him again which makes him push back.
“God look at you,” Patrick sighs. Art’s gripping the sheets next to him, the flush has spread down to his chest. He looks like he belongs in a museum. Something too beautiful to touch. It just makes Patrick more eager to take him apart.
“You walk around in those and you’re really gonna pretend she’s never fucked you?” Patrick continues. “Or that in all those years since we kissed, in all those locker rooms filled with hot naked boys you’ve never let anyone just… slip it in.”
Art shivers. “I mean—just because I— it doesn’t mean I’m— it only happened when—-” The know-it-all tone has been replaced by silly attempts to figure out how to tell Patrick the truth or what the appropriate lie might sound like. Patrick rubs him through the cotton till he’s pitched a bit higher. Teases where the fabric has started to dampen with his precum and Art’s stammered words turn into full bodied moans.
Drunk with the sound Patrick moves to start mouthing the outline of his cock through the fabric of the briefs. Breathing him in, tasting him while he continues to palm him and rub him off.
“Oh god, Patrick. oh my god,” Art loses it moments later, moving his hips, moaning like a cat in heat. It’s ridiculous how quickly it happens. Patrick is throbbing in his boxers as he sits back to watch. Gently rubbing as Art comes all over the briefs. The wet spot expanding wider and wider. Art bucks his hips helplessly in the after shocks as more and more spurts out. Soon it’s so much come it’s soaking through in a way that’s just fucking obscene. Patrick makes a mental note to get the briefs off and pocket them, the way he’s done with women’s panties in the past.
“Mm,” Art sighs. He doesn't even have the decency to look ashamed when he’s all done. He just climbs on Patrick’s lap and starts kissing him. Like it’s this thing he’s always wanted to do but never felt like he had permission until now. He takes a minute to rub his face against Patrick’s cheeks like he just wants to feel the hair there. It’s actually kind of adorable. But Patrick can also taste Tashi all over Art’s lips which is actually kind of… filthy.
Patrick ruts into him, a few times, not even on purpose, it just happens because he’s so fucking hard. Art seems to take the hint. He starts grinding. Patrick’s lap, his mouth, his brain is all full of Art. Only the thin fabric of his boxers and the briefs are keeping Patrick out. It’s so juvenile and yet so fucking hot, letting Art ride him like this. He must have done this before. Patrick just knows he’s been fucked before. The way he’s humping and moaning like a little fucking slut.
Patrick’s muscles still ache distantly from the way they played yesterday and the ache feels so delicious. It’s enough to bring Patrick over the edge.
“Mm fuck,” he groans in Art’s ear, stilling as wave overtakes him. Art hums, moving his hips a little slower.
“Oh fuck,” Patrick says again breathlessly. He takes Art’s face in his hands and Art grins at him. “Yeah… speaking of my dream come true,” Patrick whispers. Art licks his lips before Patrick kisses him again.
81 notes · View notes
p0orbaby · 18 hours ago
Note
I have a possible blurb request for mary earps please??
r still lives in england and mary’s over with psg. mary comes back from paris for international duty and finally gets to see r again.
maybe mary surprises r by coming back a day early and comes home to see r in mary’s psg shirt
-
The flat is too quiet, but you’ve learned to live with that. Mary’s voice used to echo through the place—she’s not exactly subtle when she’s home—but with her in Paris, it’s been quieter. Not lonely, exactly. Just… quieter.
Now, the only noise comes from the hum of the kettle and the faint tinny sound of some reality TV rerun you’ve half-watched four times already. You’re standing in the kitchen, her oversized PSG shirt hanging off you, half-distracted as you wait for the water to boil. It’s the away kit—black and gold—soft from too many washes. She left it behind, and you’ve convinced yourself she wouldn’t mind.
The kettle clicks off. You pour the water over a tea bag, take a sip too soon, and immediately regret your life choices.
It’s fine. It’s all fine. You’ve survived this long-distance thing so far, even if it’s been weeks since you’ve had so much as a proper hug. Mary texts, she calls, she sends voice notes when she’s bored on team buses, but it’s not the same. You keep busy—work, friends, this new phase of your life where you apparently cosplay as a PSG superfan when no one’s looking.
Then there’s a sound. A faint jingle of keys.
You freeze.
No one else has keys.
“Don’t freak out,” comes a voice from the door. Familiar. Dry. A little smug.
Your tea sloshes onto the counter as you whip around, heart hammering.
Mary’s standing there, suitcase at her feet, coat hanging off one shoulder like she’s just walked out of a bloody rom-com. Except this is your kitchen, and rom-com Mary probably wouldn’t be grinning so much at the sight of you in her shirt.
“You’re back,” you say, because your brain is apparently still catching up.
“Early,” she clarifies, stepping inside. She looks far too pleased with herself, green eyes glittering as she takes you in. “Nice shirt, by the way”
You look down like you’ve forgotten what you’re wearing. “Oh, this old thing? Found it lying around”
“Hmm. Looks better on you, honestly.” She sets her suitcase aside and crosses the room in two strides, pulling you into her arms before you can think of a reply.
The hug is as good as you remembered. Maybe better. Her warmth seeps into you, and you breathe in the familiar scent of her—something clean, fresh, with an undertone of cheap hotel shampoo.
“God, I missed you,” she mutters against your hair.
“You didn’t tell me you were coming back early”
“Yeah, well.” She pulls back just enough to look at you, hands still on your waist. “I thought a surprise might be fun. Looks like I was right”
You laugh softly, looping your arms around her neck. “You were right. For a change”
She tilts her head, grinning. “This time? How often am I wrong?”
You don’t answer, just kiss her instead. It’s been too long, and judging by the way she immediately tightens her grip on you, she feels the same.
When you finally pull away, you’re both a little breathless.
“So,” she says, voice lighter now, “are you going to keep that shirt on, or do I get my wardrobe back?”
You raise an eyebrow. “What makes you think I’m giving it back?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” she says, her grin turning cheeky as she leans in, voice dropping just enough to make your heart stutter. “I might have a few ideas to convince you”
Your tea goes cold on the counter, but you don’t really care.
113 notes · View notes
blissfullyecho · 2 days ago
Text
My Skinny Tips for the Holidays
Tumblr media Tumblr media
If you’re in the US, Thanksgiving is this week and next month begins all the holiday parties and events for Christmas, Hanakkuh, Kawanzaa, and all other winter holidays that will include a ton of processed and sugary foods, seasonal coffee’s and fun drinks, and alcohol.
A note for the dieting police out there: Don’t even try it with me.
How I Manage the Holidays + My Body
So generally during November and December, I eat very clean (except for the holidays). I allow myself a Thanksgiving plate with everything (literally everything), dessert, sugary fun drinks/alcohol, and leftovers. This is the same thing I do with Christmas dinner as well. I don’t limit what I eat on the actual holidays, but the other days I do.
How I Eat on Non-Holiday Days
So like I said, I eat very clean in Nov and Dec because I know it’s going to get crazy on Thanksgiving and Christmas Day. So I stick to eating mostly vegetables, soup, and lean protein. I actually stop drinking smoothies this time because I’d rather eat my protein than drink it so I’m not feeling hungry so soon. I get hungry faster when I drink a smoothie than I do with actually eating, so I eat more (just sticking with veggies, soup, and lots of lean protein). I do cut back heavily on bread, rice, and pasta; but my main source of carbs comes from fruit, sweet potatoes, and corn (corn is carb-heavy). I also cut OUT added sugars. I read the label on everything. 0g of added sugar is what I get. Like I said, I still indulge on whatever I want during the actual holiday meal which are things loaded in sugar, so I cut back for the month. And for everyone saying “it’s restricting” … babe, respectfully, shut up. Cutting out added sugar that does nothing for you except make you crash, bloated, ruin your gut lining, decrease collagen production, can increase your A1C (diabetes risk), and turns straight to fat is not restricting. You’re gonna have that stuff on the holidays— you can cut it out for 3 weeks, I promise.
Managing Holiday Office Parties & Community Events
I still enjoy the office potlucks and other mini events because I usually reach for the protein options instead or the veggie options. I’ll have the turkey, the ham, the deviled eggs (deviled eggs hate to see me coming), the cranberry chicken salad, etc. I still enjoy myself, I’ll just not have the pumpkin pie, the Mac and cheese, the stuffing, etc. because I’m saving that for my actual Thanksgiving/Christmas meal. Also… I do not trust other people cooking for me unless I’m there watching things happen. I don’t know what goes on at your house lol.
… But what if Paula from HR brought in her world famous (insert sugary, fatty, super processed, but super yummy food here)?
I’m most definitely going to have something if it’s something I can’t get anywhere else. If there is something that I know looks good (or is actually good) and I’m not gonna have it at my Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner, then I’ll have some. I don’t say no because it’s not part of my “diet”. There’s this girl I used to work with and she would bring in these cheesy, turkey, apple, and cranberry sliders. They were SO GOOD. I would have 1 slider and then load up on the celery and other veggies or fruit.
Alcohol
I’m not drinking alcohol unless it’s Thanksgiving, Christmas, or NYE. That’s just a no go for me. When I drink, I like to drink socially. But there’s 3 days for the rest of the year where I’m going to be drinking all night, so I don’t have any alcohol unless it’s the day of the holiday.
Bring in a healthy side option
For my office potluck, I’m making a fruit bowl, a veggie plate, and a large charcuterie board. My work bestie and I will prob be the only ones picking off of the veggie plate, but at least we do have options to load up on in case Paula from HR brings in that delicious yummy option and we want a full plate of food like everyone else.
If I’m going to have it on Thanksgiving or Christmas, I’m not going to have it anywhere else (unless it’s protein)
I will skip the sweet potato casserole and the macaroni and cheese because I’m going to have it on my Thanksgiving and Christmas. Again, I don’t care for home cooking unless I was there watching you cook for me (or if you’re a cute old lady or a grandma, I trust them so much). But the point is, I’m not going to have 8 Thanksgiving dinners this month. I’ll have one with my family and that’s it. I’m not even doing a Friendsgiving this year (but that’s only because we’re all traveling or working). But the main reason we gain weight during the holidays isn’t because we have a treat or two, it’s because we are having a Thanksgiving or Christmas meal every 2 seconds.
What’s on my Thanksgiving/Christmas plate?
I eat whatever I want, but I’ll only have a plate and a slice of dessert. I don’t get seconds or thirds. I’m a one plate girly and that’s it but I load my plate with everything and I give myself solid amounts. I don’t put tiny scoops of anything on my plate. I’d rather have food on my plate that I can’t finish rather than me cleaning my plate because I didn’t put enough of anything on there and still feeling hungry and restricted. I want to enjoy myself with my family. Thanksgiving and Christmas isn’t the time to feel restricted. For dessert, I’ll have a slice of a dessert. This year I’m being told we’re having pumpkin pie and Dutch apple pie, which are both my favorites. So I’m going to have HALF a slice of pumpkin pie and HALF a slice of the apple pie and it’ll equal to one full slice. With alcohol, I’m always drinking water. I actually drink water with my meal and drink alcohol around the meal. I personally like to stick to red wine.
How do I handle leftovers?
My family likes to give the kids (which would be me, my sibling, and our cousins) the leftovers so we can take it home. I try to take most of the protein, green bean casserole (my all-time fav omg), and deviled eggs (my grandmother makes the best, it’s impossible to beat her tbh) whereas my sibling and our cousins like to take the macaroni, garlic mash, stuffing, sweet potato casserole, and the other foods.
Exercise
I’m exercising everyday. Even on Thanksgiving and Christmas I’m exercising. I have my own routine but on Thanksgiving and Christmas, I’ll also be doing a hot (plump) girl walk after my meals to help my food digest. But even on my rest days, I’m doing active recovery.
The whole month isn’t a holiday.
I think you just have to manage the holidays by reminding yourself that’s it’s not Christmas or Thanksgiving everyday. You don’t need a full Christmas or Thanksgiving plate each day. Still enjoy the fun Starbucks drinks or Kelly from the marketing department’s apple pie, but order the tall Starbucks and not the grande or venti. Have a slice of the pie and not 1/3 of the pie. Don’t eat the candy on the table that you don’t really care for but it’s within reach so you eat it anyway. Save that for something you actually do like.
…And for anyone who is going to rage type a weird message saying I’m promoting anything unhealthy, please save yourself the time.
Happy Holidays! 🤍
✨ My new book “The Luxe Girl’s Playbook” is available now (this is the link). It’s about going into 2025 a brand new, leveled up version of yourself mentally and how you can make everyone that doubted you absolutely sickkkkk. It’s the mental diet we all need. It’ll be unavailable mid-December 2024 🫶🏼
66 notes · View notes