#loved the part when they made out passionately

[nichuuu]

Dinner & Diatribes: Analogous

Shin Yuna x Im Nayeon x M reader

Word count: 14k+

“A younger girl… And I’m talking much younger. Eight years younger than me I think.”

Normally, it feels like you’re worlds apart from Nayeon in her bed. You’re just her toy, her plaything, her doll.

Tonight though: it feels like she’s in the same world as you. She feels here — emotionally and physically present as her nails trace circles on your bare chest. Maybe it’s a trick of the light, or maybe even classic manipulation, but she feels like more than just someone who you fuck on the weekends.

“And you won’t be jealous?” you ask, indulging yourself and playing with her hair a little. She scoffs.

“You talk like we’re dating.” She shifts so that she has a cheek on your shoulder. A relationship with her wouldn’t really fly: she’s not gonna let you take care of her when she loves control more than anything. Still, it’s nice to dream about holding her hand sometimes. “I have no reason to be jealous, so why would I be?”

(It’s a question you’re asking yourself too honestly.)

“Dunno,” you muse, admittedly a little disheartened, “maybe it’s cause you’re kinda freaky… Just a thought.”

She smirks. “Trust me. A younger girl in this thing we’ve got going on isn’t gonna affect anything.” She starts tapping her nails against your chest. “Besides… You know you’re mine.”

Oh…

(Not sure how to feel about that last part.)

***

Last you checked: you weren’t expecting a guest today. 

“Uh,” you can’t help but mutter past her lips as you stagger back into your own apartment. She lifts her lips off yours out of consideration, and she takes a few moments to soak in the look of mixed emotions that has made its way onto your face. You don’t mean to be rude when you point at the other girl and ask, “do you wanna perhaps wanna, you know, fill me in on what’s going on here?”

Im Nayeon turns, looks over her shoulder, smiles. She turns back, cups your cheek with her hand. 

“Thought I’d bring some company tonight, just to spice things up.” Nayeon tells you, turning your head in a way that lets you get a good look at the younger girl standing at the door to your apartment. “Hope you don’t mind.” With her other hand, she makes a come hither motion, and tells the girl to close the door on her way in. The girl does as she’s told, and when she’s next to the both of you, Nayeon takes her by the hand and pulls her closer. 

“Introduce yourself sweetie,” Nayeon instructs—firm yet almost saccharine. Nayeon lets her thumb rub over the girl’s knuckles, a deceivingly sweet smile playing on her lips. “Tell him what we’ve rehearsed. Go on.”

She’s an eye-catcher for sure—the other girl, not Nayeon. Not that Nayeon isn’t already turning heads when she walks just about anywhere, but more that the other girl is just a rather far cry from what you're comfortable with. You’re so used to Nayeon’s gentle, piercing eyes that can probably break you with a look from her; those small, plump lips of hers that kiss you with precision and passion; those bunny cheeks that you love pinching so damn much that it probably should be considered an addiction. But this girl brings something new to the table, and you have to admit that it’s refreshing. 

Smoky, kinda innocent eyes that have a whole foot in the territory of doleful and another foot in the realm of entrancing; luscious long black hair; a face that could make just about anyone melt. Nayeon’s guest is certainly a few years younger than her, and certainly less lecherous than her senior at first glance. You don’t really know where or how Nayeon could pick up a girl that looks as sweet as this, and you certainly want to find out how a girl that looks like the textbook definition of ‘smoking hot’ could ever end up in a place like this. She’s clearly nervous, but you give her credit for being able to stand perfectly still with Nayeon’s hand starting to roam up her arm. 

“I’m Yuna… But you can call me whatever you want.”

The sentence has Nayeon’s fingerprints all over it, and you can assume with full certainty that she’s had this idea stewing in her head for at least a week or two. The smug grin on Nayeon’s face tells you that things are going according to plan, and her fingers latch themselves around Yuna’s forearm. 

“She’s a fun one to play with.” Now she’s directed her attention to you, looking right at you as she pulls the younger woman even close to the both of you: till you can literally feel Yuna’s breath in your ear. “A young little slut to spice things up.”

Nayeon takes her attention away from you, and with gentle hands on Yuna’s cheeks, she pulls the younger girl in for a kiss. It’s simple—no tongue or anything—but it’s enough to make the younger girl squirm a little where she stands. Nayeon’s clearly taking pleasure in this. Even with her lips locked with a girl younger than her, you can clearly see the whisper of a cheeky smile playing on the corners of her lips. You wonder if she’s gonna get more joy out of this than you at the end of the day.

The younger girl is released from the fierce lip-lock. She looks dazed, like she just took a hit of a blunt. Nayeon admires her craftsmanship for a moment, taking in the look on the poor girl’s face as she chuckles softly to herself, “oh my… Someone wasn’t quite ready, was she?”

Yuna’s at a clear loss for words. She tries to speak; her words fail her. You can’t exactly blame her though. Nayeon just kinda chooses when and where to be a bit of a minx, and you just have to roll with it. It’s fun, kinda hot; but not when you’re in a horrible place to get it and she decides that she just wants to blow you at some restaurant that you’re at. It’s a bit of a handful really, and you don’t quite know what to do with her sometimes. Wonder how Yuna fares?

“It’s okay,” Nayeon assures her, “you’re in good company now, though you're free to just watch if you’re still shy.”

The younger girl looks at her senior, then at you, then back to her senior. “I think I’d like to join in on this.”

Nayeon beams, her smile almost sweet if it isn’t for the fact that she’s quite literally happy to see a younger girl get it on with you and her. “That’s the spirit.”

And it’s confusing really: figuring out which of them is gonna make the first move. Yuna’s energy gives her an air of uncertainty, but you can sense some mischief within her that resonates at the same frequency of Nayeon’s. Yet there’s something a little different about her that you can’t quite place your finger on. Her youth is a breath of fresh air; there’s that young energy in her smile towards Nayeon that tells you that she’s eager but somewhat cautious. You would call her a mirror of Nayeon as they start discussing how she wants it, but you pick up on a bit of pickiness in her voice  that strays from Nayeon’s attitude. The older girl before you will take it however she likes, fuck herself on your cock till she cums and kinda leave you high and dry. Yuna on the other hand has some grungy ideas of where she wants you to cum and how she wants it to happen.

Okay, let’s return to home base and consolidate: they're similar but different; kinda conflicting yet go together like dinner and diatribes on a family reunion. There’s reason to believe that they are somewhat two sides of the same coin, yet simple observation contradicts the notion. Bottom line – it’s confusing.

“You know what?” Nayeon has a finger twirled in Yuna’s hair as she casts a glance at you. “How about we get you naked first… Then we figure out what we can do?”

Yuna seems to enjoy the proposal. The two women look at you, and Nayeon gestures with her head to come closer. As your feet land on the wood floor, Nayeon goes at a slower pace of walking as she rounds Yuna and stands behind her. She’s shorter than her by a considerable amount, but it doesn’t make her any less imposing as she pokes her head out from Yuna’s right side.

“Go on. Unwrap her,” Nayeon whispers, running a hand up Yuna’s stomach. “Let’s see what she has in store for us…”

And Yuna is more than glad to lift her arms up for you as you pull her sweater off her body. The girl has an amazing body – you’d give her that. Slim waist, wide hips, hourglass figures so defined that the sands of time would be jealous. A body to die for really, and the appeal only increases as she reaches behind her back and unclips her bra. Nayeon smiles as she tosses her article of clothing aside. 

“Tight and forthcoming?” The older woman muses. “Looks like we have quite the toy on our hands.”

Yuna’s gaze is almost searing as you step up to her. Her breathing is kinda unsteady, but you can’t exactly blame her. She’s half naked in front of two older people, with one of them running her hands along her smooth skin while the other cock their head and examine her from head to toe. If you were in her shoes, your blood would be racing and boiling fast. 

“Do what you want with me,” she whispers. She reaches forward and grasps your crotch through your pants. “I’m yours to take.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Did Nayeon teach you that?”

“Nope.” Speak of the devil and she doth answer on the younger woman’s behalf. “I only told her how to introduce herself, didn’t tell her what to say after,” Nayeon explains, a glint in her eye as she stares up at Yuna’s face. “Is it kinda fucked up if I wanna see her suck your dick?”

Yuna glances at her senior, then returns her gaze to you. “A little… But we can make it happen.”

Another point of difference – 2 actually: she doesn’t play around with her words and she’s pretty proactive. You like that. 

It’s a mess as you fumble with clothes, but it doesn’t take long for you guys to rid Yuna of the rest of her clothing and have her on her knees in the living room carpet. Her hands are delicate as she pulls down on the waistband of your boxers and frees your cock, and their even more so when she grips your throbbing shaft with both hands. On the chair that Nayeon pushed you onto, you watch her eyes as they survey what she’s working with.

“Wow…” she mutters, looking over to the right where Nayeon’s lounging on the sofa. “You had this all to yourself?”

Nayeon’s lips slant at an angle. “I know right? Better than any dildo you can find on the market.”

Yuna takes a moment to really look at the cock in her hands, eyes full of lustful wonder as she takes it in from all angles. She lets her mouth hang open for a little as she processes what she’s seeing, then she asks, “how does she even walk the next morning? I mean… This thing is girthy as fuck. Would probably split me open if I’m not careful.”

“It won’t,” Nayeon answers rather spontaneously, tapping her finger against a cushion as she watches Yuna pump your shaft with her lanky fingers. “It’ll fill you just right,” she leans against the handrest of the couch, watching intently as you push away some hair from Yuna’s face, “though I think it’ll look the best in your mouth.”

Yuna gets the gist. Her cheek presses itself against the inside of your thigh as she lifts your shaft and kisses it at the base, and she works her way up to the tip while one hand keeps your twitching cock steady. She gets to your head, and her lips take the sensitive part of you about halfway in, making sure you're looking (and you mean, like, really looking) as she lets her tongue lick the precum off from your leaking tip. Once she’s certain that she has your fullest attention, her jaw slacks and her shoulders rise; she takes a breath, closes her eyes.

There’s the hiss of an inhale — from you — as your head tilts back against the backrest while your cock enters the warm wet tavern of her mouth. She’s almost methodical in the way she takes you in, stopping halfway to adjust the angle of her head so that she can push forwards and down and drive the rest of your meat into your mouth. Her hands steady her, resting against your thighs as she tears a little. She’s a little more patient than her senior, waiting for a bit before she starts moving at a steady pace. Spit’s starting to drip down to her chin – will probably ruin the carpet if you cared enough (and you don’t). Nayeon’s been meaning to change this damn thing anyway. It’s seen too many juices and some dog piss in it from when her pomeranian was over those few times.

“Jesus,” is all you can hiss, through closed teeth of course. The young girl is nothing short of heavenly; she’s almost perfect at taking your dick as she starts to bob her head. The gurgling is kinda loud; spit flows like a stream down your shaft, only to be collected by that fastidious mouth as it traces a path – up and down and up and down. You wonder if there’s some make-up to be ruined.

“Won’t you look at that?” And you don’t even need to look over at the couch to know that Nayeon’s playing with herself. The squelching tells you lots, but the way her speech is kinda breathy tells you more than you need to know. She’s probably really turned by the sight of a younger woman taking cock into her mouth, riled up at the sight of tears flowing down her youthful cheeks. It’s borderline voyeuristic, pretty fucking freaky but also kinda hot. That’s her whole brand anyway. “She’s fucking taking your dick. My god…”

Yuna gurgles on your dick – probably some reply she’s trying to give but fails to because she has dick in her mouth. The suckle of her lips; the slide of her tongue against the base of your shaft; her throat kinda convulsing as she struggles and struggles – you don’t know if it’s all gonna be a bit too much, but now you’re really focusing on not trying to hurt her while your hands grab a handful of her hair in a fist. You’re assisting—or maybe forcing… Low-key goes both ways when there’s a very, very fine line between the two in this context—her, pulling her into your crotch and pushing her off just to pull her in again. It’s a vicious cycle – kinda doubling on the meaning while also butchering it: harsh and repetitive but there’s not a fucking instance where this produces a detrimental result.   

She comes up for air, your shaft pretty much dripping with spit as she takes a moment to gather herself. The gasping is hot, and so is the way she wipes her spit towards her mouth with the back of her hand. “God this is… Fuck...” she mutters, licking her lips while her fist is in constant fluid motion. Bruce Lee would be proud: she is like water.

“Keep it up darling,” the motions of Nayeon’s wrist have gotten quite sharp, sudden and lacking interval. Okay, maybe not sudden, but more… Desperate. It’s not like she isn’t gonna get her fair share of cock or anything, but she hasn’t been over for a while. There’s only so much that a vibrator and her fingers can do; she kinda needs to see it and revel in it for her to actually get off properly. You don’t know if watching a young girl take dick into her mouth is softening the blow dealt to her senses, but you kinda know that it’s still doing a number on her because she’s completely hiked up the hem of her dress to fuck herself with her fingers. There’s not much thought behind her actions, but she’s definitely letting herself go a little wild for the night. She is being indulged after all. 

“Am I doing good?” Yuna inquires, and it’s a question directed to both of you really. You give her a nod; Nayeon’s answer is verbal: Keep that up and you’re gonna make two people cum in the next five minutes. The young girl is pleased. She lets her tongue swirl around your tip, lick the cock before her from base to tip and sneak in some scissoring flicks of her tongue. Your hand finds itself on her cheek, thumb massaging the bone just above the flesh as she giggles and tosses her hair.

“You’re a doll,” you tell her. She smiles.

“That’s one of the many names I’ve been called,” she replies, letting your spit-covered head rub against her cheek. “Though I like the name cumslut the most.”

Oh.

Your grip on her cheek becomes more firm. “Okay then,” and your pushing her to the left so that her lips are in line with your head. “Open wide you fucking cumslut.”

The enthrallment in her eyes is apparent. Obedient, subservient, forthcoming, whatever; she parts her lips and lets her tongue hang out. Her eyelids flutter shut. You pull her forward. Nayeon cusses.

You're unbelievably hard in her mouth, and your member is ever so sensitive to every movement inside those cheeks of hers. The softness of her tongue, slickness of her drool, warmth of her cheeks… Too much to focus on with so little space for appreciation. You settle on fixating on the suction, the sweet vacuum her lips form around your length as she quite literally lets her mouth get used. Two hands around her head – pulling, pushing, pulling, pushing. A hot rhythm, not quite a dance but kinda cyclical like a routine. More perverse than any street jazz choreo you’ve seen though.

“Yuna,” you mutter, “ you’re so – fuck I – ugh… Your mouth.”

Somewhere in her throat, there’s space for a hum. Her hands are behind her back, locked in place by her own accord as she lets you fuck her mouth with no qualms. It’s smooth, almost natural till she gags a little on your dick and has to blink a bit. Slip n’ slide; front and back – she just takes your cock like an obedient little slut. It’s amazing, kinda dark, but still amazing nonetheless. The gurgling and the sound that comes from her throat that’s almost like swallowing; your fingers grasping the silky strands of her hair; eyes meeting hers. Fuck. 

You're desperate for a taste of heaven. You pull her down harder, faster. 

She gags, chokes, sucks a little harder. 

“Fuck this,” Nayeon hisses. “I’m joining in.”

And she straddles you before you can even blink, kissing you fiercely like she’s gonna die the next day and this is the last time she’s seeing you. Somewhere along the way, she’d shed her clothes. Now she’s nude and kissing you, jabbing her tongue into your mouth and exploring the feel of your teeth. Your cheeks are hers to hold, your mouth hers to own. 

She breaks the torrid kiss, “Yuna,” she drawls, playing with your hair as she speaks to the girl while looking at you. “Don’t ruin him too much. Leave some fun for me.”

The vibrations sent down your shaft make you tingle from head to toe – a product of Yuna’s attempted reply. You can’t see her anymore, but you can continue to just flow with the movements of pulling and pushing against her hair as Nayeon dives between her legs to get back to work. The older woman lets a sigh escape from her lips, pushing her fingers a little deeper. You can feel the heat against your crotch. Her hands move a little faster.

“Do you have any idea,” she whispers, her voice kind of striking that middle frequency between the gurgling and the squelching. “How fucking pent up I was in that damn dorm?”

Through your teeth, you reply. “No,” and you kinda twitch a little in Yuna’s mouth. “Do tell.”

She leans in, moans into your ear for good measure. “I was dripping every other day,” she reports, a lilt in her voice as she continues her work between her thighs. “Didn’t help that Momo was bringing a guy over and I could hear them fucking through the walls… My vibrator almost died that week.”

“Well…” you shudder as you speak, a familiar tingle building up from the base of your shaft. "You’ll have to wait your fucking turn.”

She smiles, quite sadistically you might add.

“That’s alright,” she tells you. Her forehead pressed against yours. “Just leave a load for me.”

And you have to hit her with an honest reply. “I’ll always have a load for you.”

“That’s what I thought.” She straightens her back and looks down at you. “I own this dick,” she announces to her audience of two. “Now cum in her mouth. I’m gonna get her to fucking swallow your load.” The orders are barked, not said. “I wanna watch.”

And she turns her toned back to you, leaving you with the view of the delicious curve of her back as she arches it while slicking her fingers with her own juices. You’re trying to hold on, desperately, but there’s only so much you can do when the mouth around you and the two women before you are this hot.

You don’t get to see it when it happens, but you can hear it and kinda imagine it when you cum right into Yuna’s mouth. You bet it’s kinda messy, but you’ll never know. Nayeon’s ass blocks the view – a trade off: view for a view. You hear the older woman hiss her commands—“Swallow. Fucking swallow you filthy little whore”—envison the sight of the young woman struggling to down your load as it pumps ito her wet hot mouth. A groan spills from your lips; a long-drawn sigh filters from Nayeon’s chest; Yuna gulps as she takes it all.

Your dick pops out of her mouth, all messy and slick with juices. Nayeon grabs it, pumps it, and without warning – shoves it into her cunt. 

And all at once it becomes too much: your over stimulated member twitches wildly in the grasps of her slick, hot walls as it begs for a break. The pleasure is horribly abundant, so much that it almost hurts. There’s no time to process the tight heat around you, voice your need for a break. Nayeon starts bouncing on her knees.

“Oh fuck yes.” Her hands shoot behind her, the left one failing to catch the handrest the first timebut gripping it tightly on the second attempt. Her knuckles go white. “I needed this. I needed to be filled by this fucking cock of yours.”

It’s too much; another load surges forth almost instantly. The hot semen paints her walls, shoots up from your already over-sensitive head and flows down her cunt. It leaks out; the squelching gets louder. Yuna’s tongue laps up the mix of juices that flow. Nayeon continues to ride.

Your fingers dig into the flesh of her waist, desperate to assist you in grounding yourself in this seemingly unreal reality. There’s a lack of words that can really describe your predicament, and if you’re to actually bring it across in a coherent sentence, it’ll probably something along the lines of “fuck” repeated at least a million times. You’re stuck in the chain of entry and exits of her pussy, a bundle of nerves beneath Im Nayeon while she mercilessly fucks herself on your cock. Right now: your dick is nothing but a mere toy for her to get off on, and she made that very clear from the moment she started throwing herself down onto your dick.

“Nayeon…” you heave. It’s an effort to even breathe.

“Shut it,” she hisses, not even casting a glance behind her. “I’m cumming on this cock one way or another and I don’t care how many fucking loads you give me.”

Yuna crawls around to the side of the chair. You hazard a glance at the young girl. She’s messy, sweaty and has residues of cum and drool at some areas around her mouth. She reaches out into the chair and takes you by the hand, squeezing it tightly in hers as if she knows that you’re fucking fading by the second. Every slam of Nayeon’s crotch against you is a mix of pleasure and pain, her moans almost like animalistic grunts.

“Fuck… You’re really filling her,” Yuna muses, watching the older girl take her liberties with your dick. “She must be so fucking tight right now.”

You swallow. “Yeah… It’s… Fuck…”

Yuna chuckles. Watching you struggle must kinda humour a little. She gives your hand a squeeze, encouraging you to hold on to what grasp of this world you have left. Her eyes sparkle, almost envious as she sees her senior bouncing on the dick she was taking into her mouth just a few moments ago. Her other hands snakes between her legs, flits circles of respite. Two girls getting off before you, similar but different.

Go ahead. Call this shit Tuesday.

***

“Be nice to her when I’m gone.”

You aren’t sure why Nayeon would need such a huge suitcase for a 10 day trip with her family. There’s no doubt in your mind that there’s probably tonnes of products in there that she wants to bring along for the fuck of it, but the damned thing looks like it was harbouring a small child. Not that Nayeon would ever do that, but it does help to paint a clearer picture of the sheer scale of her luggage. The airport X-ray is about to have a field day with this.

“Of course.” You’re kinda obvious about your ogling from the doorway as Nayeon does her hair with nothing but her leggings on. Yuna is still fast asleep in the room that you’d prepared for her, but you still kept your volume down just to play it safe. 

Nayeon smirks at you through the mirror. “I’m sure she’ll feel right at home with you.”

“Is that sarcasm I’m hearing?”

“Take it however you like. My eyes are up here by the way.”

You chuckle and walk up behind her. “Guilty as charged mademoiselle,” you apologise, though you're not all that ashamed of th fact that she’s caught you in th act of fucking her with your eyes.

Nayeon hits you with a scoff, a rather aloof one that screams ‘got you. Thought you were slick huh?’ even though it was within your fullest intentions for her to catch you looking. She had to be fair to you in this situation — kinda hard to look at anything else. Or maybe you’re misjudging her, maybe she knows full well that you were (and still are) catching a good look at those firm, perky mounds that sit proudly atop her chest. They fit perfectly in your hands, quite like a glove—OJ Simpson would hate that it fits that well—and a nicely-fitted set of bed sheets. What the fuck does that even mean? Frankly, you can’t quite put an explanation to it yourself; you’re kinda listing things that sound and feel right to you — things that give something enjoyable that little kick it needs to become something more congenial. 

(That sort of encapsulates her whole personality honestly. She’s already something to relish, cherish; the type of girl that makes other guys say ‘she’s a keeper’ even though they don’t have the slightest idea of what she really was like beyond cameras and public appearances. Kinda horny all the time, but also wants to cuddle you to sleep and call you all sorts of pet names after you’ve blindfolded and fucked her against three different flat surfaces – maybe breaking some expensive furniture in the process. Dominant, a little stubborn and a little pissy. Need you say more?)

“But for real: make her feel at home,” she says, setting down the curling iron and switching it off. She leaves it to cool down, puts on a sweater while she waits. “Poor girl’s been through enough. I promised her a safe haven, so try to make it one.”

The context behind her request is a little baffling. Just this morning Nayeon told you of Yuna’s falling out with an alleged highschool sweetheart, and she's taking shelter with you guys till legal matters are dealt with and she’s safe and sound. Guy started stalking her apparently, threatened her once or twice too. Fun times we live in.

Helping her hook the clasp of her necklace, you assure Nayeon that only your best effort would go into creating a safe space for her younger companion. Not to brag, but you’re pretty good at making friends—trust me. We’ll be tight before you even know it—with strangers. It’ll be like walking the dog; easy peasy. You get the idea right? Kinda running out of sayings. Nayeon seems pretty pleased with your promises.

“If you guys have fun, do send some videos,” she tells you, opening her drawer to pull out a pair of jeans. “I’ll be missing out on a lot if you don’t. That girl has a body even I wanna ravage.”

“So cock is not enough, huh?” you tease. She flicks her eyes to the mirror.

“Who said it wasn’t enough?” She cocks her head and makes eye contact through the mirror. “I literally ride you till you’re sore. Yuna’s just… an add-on. Like a side dish if you will.”

You chortle. “And I’m the main course?”

“Nope,” she giggles, unfolding her jeans. “That would be me.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

“If you want an admission of my wrongs, you’ll have to fuck it out of me.”

And she meets your eyes in the mirror. You smile, knowing that she’ll probably let you get away with this one.

“It’s really a shame…” you sigh. “These leggings were, like, really nice.”

***

Couple minutes later you’re giving her a kiss on the cheek as she hurries for the taxi that arrived five minutes ago. In the midst of the commotion, Yuna emerges from her room dressed in one of your shirts – just in time to wave goodbye to her senior before Nayeon slips away. You're not too sure if she’s fully registered the fact that she’ll be stuck with you for a full week, but hopefully once the realisation sets in, you’d already have made her comfortable. 

You turn. The way you meet her gaze is kinda awkward. She has a look of intrigue on her face as she rubs her arms and gazes back at you with those doleful eyes.

You clear your throat. “You uh… You like omelettes?”

***

On your phone screen, Nayeon just kinda stares back at you with a hundred-yard-stare type of look. Hotel wifi has her video freezing at a rate that would make Elsa proud, and she’s barely a human through all the pixelated fuck-what that clouds in front of her.

“I feel like we're focusing on vastly different things here, Nayeon.” You’re hoping that she can hear your voice over the roaring silence of shitty network bandwidth. “Not even a day too… I’m pretty sure the poor girl’s scared shitless of me.”

And while Nayeon’s video and audio buffer, it’s a good time to remind yourself of your mistake. Not that you forgot it or anything, but you just gotta make sure that everything that you tell Nayeon is accurate.

So it turned out that Yuna and breakables don’t really go well together. Nayeon seems to have forgotten to ask you to read some fine-prints, and you basically went in raw when you witnessed  the young girl’s clumsiness. Quite the butter-fingers: she broke a mug and a plate in one slip of her tray from her hands. The sound of shattering porcelain jarred her, and as she attempted to move out of her mess, the Dad in you spurred you to cry out in panic. Don’t move! you practically roar. Poor thing flinched like she’s being held at gun-point, started shivering a little as you rushed over to clear up the shards. You don’t quite know how to comfort her, and so you just tell her to just eat in her room if she’s uncomfortable. She took you up on that, and that ended the first non-sexual interaction you had with her.

Way to go… You deserve a star.

By the time you’re done pacing the room and have thrown yourself onto the bed, Nayeon reconnects back to the call. She’s in a bathroom, wearing airpods and sitting in what looks like a bathtub. From the fact that she's wearing a robe, you’ll bet good money on the really (and you can’t stress this enough) high chance that she’s wearing nothing else beneath that.

“Five star hotel and I get two bars of wifi everywhere except the damn toilet,” she huffs. Guess you were right about what the two of you were focusing on. No prizes for being right though; life’s a bitch. “Anyway, don’t think too much about it. She’s clumsy but she’s not unaware. I’m sure she’ll understand where you’re coming from.”

“Honestly”—you slide under the covers and heave a huge sigh—“I think I might find my thirteenth reason if she hates me tomorrow.”

Nayeon rolls her eyes. Yes: she’s painfully aware that you certainly won’t kill yourself over the fact that you may or may not have made a girl re-live her trauma, but the knowledge of that doesn’t stop her from expressing her disdain towards your little joke.

“Sleep on it. You’ll be fine tomorrow,” she assures you, now in full resolution and crystal clear audio and image. She segways into something else, “By the way, check out the link I’m sending you.”

Toilet wifi is truly doing her wonders cause you get the link in question right after she says it. And you aren’t sporting a fedora when you confidently identify the source as a Reddit thread, but it feels like you should be heading online to buy one and get it delivered via next-day delivery. (Ugh… You can feel the word m’lady threatening to burst forth from your mouth already.) Yuck.

Clicking on the link brings you to a community you’re no stranger to. You’ve heard of it once or twice, but never really had the time or energy to delve into the posts. Nayeon seems to have done some homework though — you’re taken to a very specific post, a clip that kinda blew up when it debuted. 

It takes no Oppenheimer to draw the conclusion that the post addresses Nayeon herself, and she’s clad in that all black bodysuit from that one Talk That Talk performance that hugs her figure and really makes all the curves on her body pop. You’d know: you fucked her in this outfit; railed her on the bed from the back with a pair of fuzzy pink handcuffs on her wrists if you want specifics. And if you want even more details: she didn’t let you cum till she’d came 3 times. Fun.

It’s a stunning outfit, and the appeal of the wonders it does to Nayeon’s body is only emphasised by how she runs her hands up from her hips, tracing the hourglass shape of her figure before she flips her hair. A pretty good Gif. Seems to have all 1410 commenters on their knees.

Now mind you: you’re on speaker phone with her right now. With that in mind, it sure as hell feels like Nayeon’s in the room with you as low sighs and salacious squelching starts filtering through Nayeon’s microphone and into your ears. A quick glance at the call window (that’s so helpfully converted to a small rectangle at the top right-hand corner of your phone) confirms 2 things while surprising you with a third find:

1) She’s very much naked under that robe. A bit of a no-brainer

2) She’s playing with herself – legs wide open and one of them (you can’t be arsed to really say which one) propped up on the rim of the bathtub as juice-slicked fingers work themselves between flushed folds.

3) The whole reason you can see the stuff in 2) is attributed to the fact that she's somehow leaned her phone against something in that bathtub to give you an almost artistic view of her. Emphasis on ‘almost’ because the close-up of her pretty, pink pussy is foreground to an even more sordid display of her half-lidded eyes and parted lips — baseness personified really.

Yuna becomes a secondary thought. “So… Has anyone told you that you’re kind of freaky?”

“Hey. I’m just a girl,” she muses, the look on her face a strong contender for the symbol of pure depravity. “Read the comments would you?”

“Twitter’s a much better place for this if—”

“Just stop being a smartass and read the fucking horny comments.”

You’re not intimidated by the aggression behind her voice for once, and it’s probably because she isn’t here to edge you if you don’t shut up. You take a moment to admire just how good she looks in this seemingly sempiternal display of what looks like lust itself, the Gif looping at least 3 times while you’re at it (and it’s like, the best 14 seconds of your life). The sun hits her at just the right, illuminating the best parts of her while shadows further define the shape of her curves – bringing forth the swell of her hips while making her tits and ass look bigger by a rather generous amount. Frankly, she looks good in just about anything really. Clothes on or off; hair tied up or let down; lingerie or fancy dress; lace or solid, she is the embodiment of sex.

“Hurry the fuck up,” she hisses, and it’s dripping with lethal lust and desire like venom from serpent fangs. Okay… There’s some mutual interest here with you and Nayeon. You’ll oblige.

“How nasty are we getting?” you inquire, all while you work the waistband of your pants down past your crotch so that your cock can spring free. You enlarge the window of the call, silently hypnotising yourself with the sight of Im Nayeon’s hand busying itself between her legs. “Are we going from the tame ones and progressing or…”

The look on her face tells you that she doesn’t give a shit; and she’s about this close to ending this filthy call and getting off on her own. Better conscience guides you to pick a random comment from the middle and get going with it.

“This one’s a thought provoker,” you preempt, scanning through the rather raunchy statement left behind by some undoubtedly turned-on user. “It says, ‘I wonder what she tells her stylist when she has to wear such outfits. It's like she must be really asking: I want something that will reveal my whole curvy figure. Nayeon is really the best girl’.”

“Mnph…” — she tilts her head back and lets out a gasp – an implosive suction of air that’s sharp yet so pleasing to your ears. “Curvy and… What was that again?”

“Best girl,” you reiterate, watching with a half-parted mouth as your hand matches the pace of Nayeeon’s fingers pumping in and out of the wet mess on the screen, “looks like someone’s got an eye for details.”

“They’d better. I think I looked fucking hot in that thing.”

You could second that opinion, though it was probably in your best interest to keep reading. This is basically your equivalent of putting fries into bags. You’re kinda okay with it, but you’re struggling to read this next one because of its horrible grammar, “her pussy must feel like heaven. With a tight body like that, she must know how she’s draining balls around the world.”

In the bathtub, she twitches. Her ring and middle finger are drenched when they’re removed from her pussy, but they don’t rest and find solid ground on her clit. They rub circles into Nayeon’s swollen nub, no doubt applying just the right amount of pressure onto the area while Nayeon is breathing all shaky and sounds like she’s been winded. In your books: this is basically her doing a backflip over the fine line between freaky and kinky, and basically exposing you to some new kink that she’s probably picked up from Sana.  If any of these commenters ever really had a sliver of an idea of what she’s really like behind the scenes, you doubt that the comments would be as merciful as this. Anyway, next.

“I bet she likes it raw. She probably loves being a good little fucktoy who takes unprotected dicks into that tight pussy and letting load after load fill her. I mean” —Nayeon starts to shudder a little, quaking and sighing as you get to the more explicit section of his comment—“she’d probably like it if I just ripped that dress off her body and spread her legs. She’ll moan like a slut when I put it in her and just start doing her raw. Imagine the way her tits will bounce. Fucking slut, she was made to be bred.”

She lets out this moan – inexplicable and undescribable. She urges you to keep going. You do just that.

“I want her mouth so bad. Bunny has those dick sucking lips that are made for cock, probably gives mad head and is so fucking sloppy with it. I bet she’ll let the drool drip from the corners of her mouth while she takes me in all the way, and she’ll probably thank me with her eyes when I grab her by the hair and start fucking her throat. I’m gonna destroy that pretty little face so bad, leave her so fucking messy and ruined that she’ll have to stop singing for at least a week. When I cum, I’m gonna make sure it goes down her throat and get some on that slutty face. She’s earned it.”

You’re watching her, pumping your fist around your cock while she lets her jaw slack and lets her moans sort of tumble from her mouth in batches. “More,” she pleads, fingers trembling as she lets her free hand slip beneath her robe and start giving attention to her tits. You’d kinda kill to see them now, but this view will have to do. “Read more. I want to hear it.”

“They're getting nastier,” you inform her. “This whole thread of comments is just 3 guys discussing how they want to share you in a gangbang.”

“Fuck yes. Please…”

She never finishes the sentence, but you get the gist. You persist. 

The next one is kinda paraphrased, partially because you’re projecting your own fantasies while simultaneously deciphering what this guy is trying to say across 5 separate comments. 

“I want nothing more”—and it’s getting really hard to breathe while Nayeon’s fucking herself senseless halfway across the world. Maybe if she hadn’t worn those damned airpods, you wouldn’t be hearing every single sordid little sound she makes (gasps, sighs, moans and a bunch of phonetic mish-mash that began with the letter ‘o’). You can’t tell if she’s already lost to the haze of pleasure, and even if she hasn’t she’s probably holding on by a thread thinner than hair; on the way there and probably reaching within the next five minutes—“than to pound her little pussy raw and give her a fat load.”

“Oh my fucking god…” she’s descending a little further into her own head, sinking beneath the sheer thrill of masturbating while her partner reads out all the perverse things that people would do to her. Her breaths are almost desperate – earthy and kind of like a product of raw emotion; akin to a groan or maybe even a grunt. At the same time, it’s like she’s struggling to take in the air she needs, fighting to find a reason to take a breath and distract her from this debauched world that she’s dived into. It isn’t just her mind that’s twisted here, but the minds of others too.  “Keep going. I need to know how they’re gonna ruin me.”

You’re trying to memorise the next line so you can watch, watch the subtle twitch in her right leg and the grunt-moan hybrid that’s produced from that pleasure stricken throat; the way she becomes a bundle of nerves like you and just starts losing it; the way her fingers go from rubbing to fluttering small circles of heavenly release into her body; the way the round breast that’s slipped out of the robe ripples with each movement from her shoulder. You’re more than happy to watch really; be a witness to the act of her bringing herself to the point of no return as she practically brims with pleasure and bliss that she’s bringing herself. You’re reading is like an add-on, some sick twisted DLC if you really think about it (you’re not really thinking much, but it’s a fun thing to consider). It’s quite like making a drink, albeit a little bit butchered – she’s pouring herself a glass while you wipe the rim with a lemon. The alcohol can spill on your fingers for all you care, you just wanna watch her make it overflow. 

TL;DR: you really wanna make her cum.

“I’ll fuck her mouth while you take her pussy”—this one is read word-for-word, verbatim, letter-for-letter. You like how it’s phrased, not quite poetry but beautiful in its own way—“make her gag on this cock till she’s ruining her mascara. We cum together. Give this little slut the spit roast creampie of her life.”

She half-sigh-half-moans – the type of noise she’d make when she’s on her back and being fucked into the mattress. She shifts, undoes the knot holding her robe together and lets the thing part from the middle and falls at her sides. Leaning back against the end of the bathtub, her pleading comes in the form of whines, soft ones that kinda float around the room while she endeavours to work her fingers a little harder. A free hand kneads her breast. Your breath hitches, cock pulsing in your fist as she arches her back and starts to gasp. You read the next lines, the boner-fueled words of some guy who probably had his cock in his hand while typing this out.

“I want her ass. I’ll make her ride it while she takes it up that bubble butt, then you guys an still fuck her pussy and mouth. She’ll be so messy, probably dripping from her pussy and her mouth while three dicks fuck the shit out of all three of her holes. You know what? I bet she’ll enjoy it. The slut flaunts her body like it’s a fucking prize. She’s asking for it.” 

There are like 2 more comments, but you never quite make it to the next parts. With a cry, Nayeon leans forward in the bathtub. She digs her fingers back into her slit, restarts the squelching and lets your speakers flood with a sordid symphony; squelch after squelch after squelch feels like music to your ears.  “Your cock.” It’s a demand, really raunchy, kinda racy and really (and you really mean really) fucking raw. Can’t quite figure out which part of her strips her of the filter that takes away the pure intoxicating venom that coats her words, but you couldn’t really give more of a shit right now. It’s hot, like, really fucking hot. “Show me your cock. Let me see you stroke it.”

And it’s almost at once that you switch back to the call and flip your camera around. You’ve been going at the same tempo for some time now, and you hope Nayeon can see the utter mess she’s made of you – precum leaking from your tip and your head all swollen and red. She moans, slips another digit inside of her and starts working all three of her fingers harder inside of her. 

“Ngh… I really wish that I could be filled with your cock right now,” she drawls. You’re not too sure if she knows that she’s projecting a shared desire right now. It’d be great to feel those warm walls wrapped around your shaft, slicking it with her juices while she rides you at a steady pace. Fuck… She’s ruining you, isn’t she? “With me baby. Cum. Make a mess for me.”

Her words are a little jumbled, but coherence doesn't really matter when she’s spitting pure filth from her lips. It doesn’t take long for either of you to get there, but you like to think that you meet her where she already is and kinda just go from there. At least that’s what you tell yourself as she convulses and is marred by her orgasm, and your cum leaks down your shaft and flows over your knuckles while you watch Your respective cameras capture it all – witnesses the mess you make at the hands of each other (and yourselves). You have to take a second, sit in the warm puddle of your own mess. It’s pooled on your stomach; cleaning up’s gonna be a chore.

“God…” Nayeon breathes. “Always wanted to try this.”

“Guessed as much,” you reply, sitting up in your bed and looking around for tissues. You spot a box of them on your desk. Great.

“Gotta go. Be in touch soon.”

She leaves you in the darkness of your room. From the corner of your eye, you spot a set of eyes watching you from the ajar door. You make out Yuna’s features before she closes the door, no doubt fleeing the scene. You aren’t sure how much she saw, but you hope that whatever she did see hadn’t scared her shitless.

Anyway, there are larger issues at hand.

***

It’s somewhere on the third or fourth night where it happens. For the record: you don’t go to her. She comes to you.

Weather forecast predicted hail, and for once they’re actually correct. It’s pissing it down – the glass on your room not left unscathed from the assault of hail falling from the sky. It’s awfully noisy, helluva hullabaloo. Hard to sleep in this weather really. You warned Yuna—who seems to have gotten a little more comfortable around you—about the horrid weather that you guys were about to be blessed with, and you can’t help but wonder if she’s fairing alright.

The knock on your door comes around a quarter after one. Yuna steps into your room, her silky nightdress kinda glowing in the low light as she sort of just stands there awkwardly. It’s quite like a child entering their parents room in the middle of the night to inform them that they’ve shat the bed. You look at her from under the covers for a bit, and when she continues to be a deer in headlights, you sit up in your bed. “You okay?”

“I’m um…” she begins, fiddling with her fingers as she speaks. “I-It’s noisy… And…”

You understand what she’s attempting to convey. You move to your right in bed, open the covers and pat on the space you’ve left for her. She smiles, grateful. When she settles into the space where Nayeon usually sleeps, you tell her to holler if she needs anything else. You leave her with that, and your back faces her when you—by the grace of some divine powers—drift off.

You wake up again in the early morning. The sleep wasn’t bad – kinda peaceful and dreamless and you want to close your eyes and drift back off. Unfortunately (actually kinda fortunately in this case), Yuna’s legs entangled with yours snaps you awake. You’re worried that you might have rolled into her while you were asleep (you really didn’t want to fuck up again), but her arm around your torso tells you otherwise. She’s cuddled up to you, head against your back and hugging you like you’re her personal soft toy – the usual kind of cuddling. Frankly, you’re at a loss for words. What happens in between is kind of a blur. You remember her stirring, and you remember turning around as slowly and gently as possible. What you don’t quite remember however, is how she ends up with a hand on your cheek. You vaguely remember her asking for some sort of permission, but your heart is beating so loudly in your ears that you can’t really hear or process much. She’s in the most vulnerable of positions right now, and the worst thing you could possibly do is fuck up. Your mishaps from the first day have you on edge.

And now you’re running through the events again in your head, doing your best to pick up on critical exposition that probably would explain the situation you're in. Words fail you as Yuna’s thumb traces a path across your cheek, sweeping back and forth languidly with the smallest of smiles on her face. Her eyes—those hypnotic doleful eyes—stare into yours, and you’re sniffing out some longing behind that gaze. 

“Nayeon put in a really good word for you,” she whispers, letting her gaze wander across your face. “She said that you were a trustworthy man… Someone who’ll take care of anyone because you can.”

You’re happy to hear of Nayeon’s positive appraisal of you, but it doesn’t stop your bad habit of cracking a joke in tense situations. “And what’s the customer’s review?”

You’re glad that she laughs. If she didn’t, you’d have to expand your list to include a 14th reason. 

“She told me to trust you and that I can feel safe around you,” she reports. She takes a moment to bring her eyes back to yours. Her smile grows wider. “I’m happy to say that I do… Largely.”

And all at once: a two tonne weight around your chest feels like it just dropped a twenty-story height. You aren’t sure if Yuna’s giggling because of the fact that you’re visibly relieved or because you heaved the loudest sigh of relief of your career.

“Man… I thought I’d completely fucked up after the first day,” you admit to her, relishing the feeling of your body relaxing in bed. “Never quite got to apologise for that.”

“And you don’t have to”—her smile is quite soothing to be honest, puts you right at ease after looking at it for a second or two— “I was just kinda shocked��� And I kinda have a bad experience of being yelled at. Working on it though.”

Huh. Guess Nayeon was right about her.

“Still though,” you raise, rubbing your eyebrow. “I’m sorry.”

Yuna chortles. Her lips slant at an angle. “Forgiven and forgotten. Happy?”

You smile in response to the progress. “Hey. You go girl.”

She graces you with a wink. A moment of silence follows. 

“Did Nayeon ask you to be touchy with me?” you can’t help but inquire. It’s out of the blue, but hey: a burning question is a burning question. “I mean… It’s not everyday that a cute girl just pulls up in my bed and caresses my cheek.”

“She said that you’ll be fine”—she retracts the hand on your cheek. The two tonne weight starts rising to the 5th floor—“and are you flirting with me?”

(Two tonne weight falls. Phew… What a workout.)

“Maybe.” You don’t really like being blunt cause there’s always some merit in a bit of playing around. Now that you think back on it, you may or may not have picked this up from Nayeon. Damn girl is ruining you. “Take it how you want, just don’t think I’m being sarcastic.”

Yuna smirks a little. “Nayeon did say you like to play around with your words,” she lifts a finger and points away from the bed, “not sure if she influenced you,” she points towards you,  “or if you influenced her”.

“What if we’re both a little guilty?”

“Then I’ll be the outlier. Can I kiss you?”

And it feels like time stops. For the seconds that you stare at her in silence, one brain cell exerts maximum fucking effort to process the weight of her words. You wouldn’t have been as hesitant if she’d just kissed you directly, but now that she’s asking for consent first, you’re high-key at a loss for words. The sun’s starting to rise and the room’s being filled with this sorta radiant glow… Or maybe it’s just her.

“Woah,” you can’t help but muse. Of course, you’re exaggerating by quite a bit. “You are… Super blunt.”

“Figured you could use a change of pace.”

Then Yuna closes the distance between the two of you. She hesitates for a little, hovering over your lips for a bit before she finally decides to press her lips onto yours. It’s kinda sweet; her lips feel amazing and she’s really going down on you. You comb your hands through her hair, let the smell of sweet shampoo kinda intoxicate you a little while she tugs at your lower lip with her teeth. Unlike Nayeon, it feels like she’s kissing you because she wants to. The older girl sometimes makes it feel like she’s doing it for the sake of it, and then proceeds to tear through your clothes to get to your dick. Yuna takes her time, lets her hand on your face get familiar with the structure of your jaw as fingers graze them gently; introduces her index finger and thumb to your chin as she tips it to deepen the kiss a little.

“Hey,” she calls once the kiss is broken. She’s glowing in the light of the room, the smile on her face pretty fucking adorable. “Did Nayeon ever tell you that I look the best when I take it from the back?”

Again: super fucking blunt.

Clothes are never a hassle when you’re kinda in a rush, and Yuna’s night dress slips right off her body like the plate she dropped from the tray. You have her on her back, kinda half-mewing-half-keening as you catch a nipple in your mouth and suck on on it. The toned muscles on her stomach tense and relax, the rapid ebb and flow of pleasure in her system making her body move in all sorts of sensual ways as you palm her other breast.

And here’s the thing you like about Yuna: she lets you take her time with her, really revels in the sweetness of the moment while your trailing kisses down to her crotch. She moans for you – sweet music that tells you yeah that’s the spot while you acquaint and familiarise yourself with her body; she shifts herself accordingly – rolls to her side when you were kissing her plunging collarbones and opens her legs for you when you get to that pretty, pink pussy. It’s like she’s wired to please you, responding to your every move with a move of her own like you’re locked in a dance with her. It’s a welcome change of pace from having to fight and dirty talk your way to even get the chance to fuck Nayeon.

(In case you’re wondering: you do eat her out, but you kinda get lazy to really put into words. All you need to know are these few key points:

Firstly, she’s delicious, sweet and salty and kinda tangy. A bit of a subjective taste but you like it.

Secondly, her moans are really fucking adorable. They’re not even, like, purposefully made that way. She just kinda lets them flow from her mouth – choked-up cries of pleasure while warm thighs wrap around your ears. 

Lastly, when she cums, it’s fucking amazing. It’s like she brings heaven down to earth with her cries and makes sure you get to touch it as much as she can. Her body is fucking riveting – arches deliciously when she arrives and makes you twitch in your pants.

Bottom line: she’s really fucking hot, quite like Nayeon in the way she tries you on sometimes but patient and actually giving you the chance to talk dirty with her. Damn… She really is a change of pace.)

And so: reaching between your bodies with her on all fours, you grasp your cock in your right hand, slipping it between Yuna’s legs. The young woman spreads her thighs as best she can – readies herself for entry. Your head pushes between her lips, waiting for only a moment, before you thrust hard inside her, filling her to the hilt with your cock. She’s awfully tight, really fucking wet and God is it hot in there. You almost think molten iron seems to be brewing in her core.

“Tell me,” she huffs, a sly smile on her face as she props herself up on her elbows. “Am I better? Or is Nayeon still the best?”

You caress the swell of her ass. “Baby… I think you’ll be the best fuck I’ll have in a while.”

It’s almost cruel: the way you kinda just start thrusting without any warning. She likes it though, and you only know because she possesses the bluntness to do so.

“God you’re fucking big.” And her ass ripples with each thrust you deliver into that slick little pussy of her’s. “Fuck… How does Nayeon even manage you?”

(The thing you like about her is how she asks a question like it was some sort of objective statement – not a rhetorical question, just something for you to respond to.)

You fuck her harder in response to that, kinda push yourself all the way into her. The tip of your cock slams against her cervix and her cries ring throughout your room. Your room fills with the sort of visceral sound one would associate with skin slapping against skin. There are definitely some more words to be shared during sex – the girl has a little more things she wants to get off her chest, but what the whole exchange boils down to is a back and forth of her gasping and crying out and saying you’re the best dick she'll ever get and you telling her you love the feel of her little cunt.

(It's really not like you're trying to prove something by being super rough. Yuna just happens to really, really like the feel of a thick cock pounding into her. Maybe Nayeon was right – her taking it from the back was a good idea.

Or maybe she's just a slut.

Who knows?)

"Yeah," you growl. You reach forward and grab a handful of her hair, pull her body against yours. "Take my cock baby."

"I can take it," she gasps, the breath knocked out of her. Her fingers curl against the bedsheets and she's just taking your cock. She's a lot easier to please than Nayeon – less stubborn about being in control, but also much, much more willing to please. "Oh God, fuck me, please..."

You slam deep inside her. Her body jerks forward and the sound that comes from her mouth is a mix between a cry and a gasp. "Please what?"

"Fuck me harder," she says. She's practically begging for it. "Make me cum. Please, please make me cum!"

Taking up her request is all you really wanna do. She didn’t need to add the multiple pleads, but you took some pleasure in hearing it.

You grab ahold of her shoulders, pull her close till she's almost upright. "You're gonna cum around my dick," you growl. You start a series of rapid, hard thrusts and her body goes limp in your arms. "And you're gonna make a mess of yourself."

She nods frantically. She's a mess already, all sweaty and red. The sounds that leave her mouth are incoherent. With two fingers pressing hard and directly against her clit, you start circling on it, making her a complete fucking wreck in the middle of your room as you really try to get her off. There's a sweet spot you find after a moment – the pad of your digits slipping around the nub and her knees give, almost making her buckle until she's flat on her stomach on the bed, crying and shaking as you use her like a toy.

"Please... Fuck... Don't stop, oh God don't stop!" Her cries are like a prayer to you. You've never heard anything like it. You fuck her right through it, watching as her back arches and her legs twitch, until she's almost completely gone. There's only a little bit more left. She just needs a little extra push.

So you decide to go a little hard. You hold her by her hips, keep her legs shut, and thrust directly down onto her pussy with a force you'd only reserve for someone like Nayeon. Her eyes roll back in her head as you really take her like you've wanted to ever since you started; it's almost animalistic how you really try to get her to cum as hard as she can. You can almost feel her orgasm build up in her body. Her breathing grows shorter and more erratic and she's mewling in her throat – so close. You can taste it.

"You like my cock don't you?" You reach around, give her tits a squeeze. She almost cums from that.

"Yes," she whimpers. You know she's not playing the part – she genuinely wants your dick. "Please... Let me cum on your cock..."

(You don’t admit it verbally, but you like it when girls beg. Nayeon never does, and it’s a novelty now that she’s doing it.)

You hold her down with an arm on her lower back. Her head's to the side, hair plastered to her skin with sweat as you fuck her from behind. She's panting and whining, begging you for more; “please please more”. You like that. It's cute. You wanna hear it. So you go harder. She screams into the sheets, but the sounds are muffled, but she's pretty loud nonetheless. It's good to see her let go like this, really let loose and not hold anything back. There's a fire that she ignites inside you. "Fuck..."

It's like a little fire that ignites and grows bigger, burns brighter with each thrust. She's so tight and so fucking wet; the wet sounds that accompany each thrust really turns you on. Your body feels so hot. There's this warmth that spreads across your entire body with every passing second. She moans and cries, whimpering as you nail her into the sheets.

Then there's this moment of clarity that hits her, and she looks back at you – she smiles, eyes half-lidded and she whispers something to you.

"Cum inside me," she says. She's shaking. "Please..."

Your rhythm grows sloppy as you edge closer and closer to the climax. Your cock feels like it's growing harder, bigger – there's this throb in it and your body's all tensed up. It feels like something inside you is going to snap, break loose and make you cum. It's not the best feeling in the world, but the way it grows stronger and stronger really makes your toes curl and your skin tingle.

And she's so beautiful like this: spread out for you, skin sweaty, cheeks red, and ass in the air as you fuck her. It's the best way you can ever imagine her – she looks like she belongs to you like this, her body a playground for your lust, and she wants it just as much as you do. There's a mutual feeling between the two of you.

The pleasure comes and it hits you like a train. It feels like something inside your balls tighten and then snap and then there's this euphoria that envelopes you. You feel your cock pulse with every burst of semen that spurts from the head. Yuna cries as her pussy gets filled and filled, until it's running out and dripping from her cunt, but you can't stop fucking her. You want to feel that sweet, sweet release, to see how long it will go, to really enjoy this moment. She feels amazing, and your heart pounds and you want her so badly. You need her.

She cums — It's a hard, shuddering orgasm that wracks her body. She cums and she screams for you, and she makes a mess of herself as promised. It's really fucking hot – the way she completely loses her composure and her legs shudder violently as you pound her pussy through it all, soaking in the perverted pleasure she brings you while you fuck her freshly-creamed pussy till your hips kinda give. You collapse on her, panting and grunting on top of her while she struggles to breathe.

In this moment. She isn’t like Nayeon in the slightest.

She’s a welcome change of pace. 

***

“Thinking back… There were signs in highschool that I probably ignored.”

And the water sloshes around as Yuna shifts a little in the bathtub. She’s found it to her liking to prop herself up against you, let her head rest against your shoulder while you hold her close to your chest. You’ll admit that it’s a bit of an awkward arrangement, but there was no way you could just not indulge her after she asks to take a bath with you. 

“The worst part is that they weren’t even, like, subtle,” she tells you, just sort of staring out into the distance while she talked.  “He’d punch things when he got angry, even slapped a referee after he lost a game… Love is blind huh?”

You held her a little closer to your chest. “It’s okay. We all make mistakes.”

“Yeah, well, my mistakes left me with no physical scars but the emotional ones are plenty.”

You hope she can’t see you grimace. It’s hard to recover from these types of things, especially if you realise the stupidity behind your decisions.

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” you tell her, and you really mean it. “It must be difficult… You know: recovering.”

The front of her lips curve up. “Thanks. I try not to let it weigh me down too much but… Just kinda happens to come out every now and then.”

You get it, you really do. Not that you’ve been in an abusive relationship like hers before, but you understand what it’s like. It’s sad really: being unable to break out of a cycle that hurts you the more you try to stay and change it. You admire the young girl’s strength, envy her courage for finally breaking the cycle and freeing herself for good. 

“You’re safe now,” you whisper, moving some wet hair out of her face. “I will never hurt you. I promise.”

She smiles at that. “Thank you,” she says while pinching your cheek, “that means a lot to me.”

Then you bask in the silence for a little, taking in the smell of the bath salts and the feel of Yuna’s soft skin against yours. It’s a pretty romantic moment till Yuna’s bluntness breaks it.

“I’m, like, really wet,” she announces, gazing up at you from her position on your shoulder. You laugh. 

“Didn’t you just cum?”

“Good things come in threes.”

She fixes you with a look, like she knows that you’re gonna give in.

(And you know what? She’s absolutely right. Can’t say no to a pretty girl.)

***

“Well hello to you too.”

Nayeon sounds almost angry on the other side of the video call. On your end, you have your phone’s back camera pointed to the current situation: Yuna atop of you, thighs locked around your cock as her hips rock up and down steadily. Her thighs are warm, pillowy; makes you grit your teeth while she moves languidly.

“Nayeon!” Yuna exclaims, almost too saccharine as she keeps her eyes locked on yours. “We were just thinking of you.”

She isn’t lying. Just moments before her call came, you two were making a joke about how she’d never let you get away with as much as Yuna did. It was a pretty humorous conversation, almost comedic if it wasn’t for the fact that Yuna was tugging your sweats down your thighs. 

But, there she was, still moving in your lap. Yuna leans forward, hands planted on your chest as she continues to rock her hips, ass bouncing a little against your thighs.

You can hear a scoff from Nayeon.

Yuna turns her head to the screen, eyes looking at the phone but her hands still pushing on your chest, fingers flexing. "We really were," she whines, lips jutted into a pout. You watch her as her lips curl into a small smirk just a second later, her teeth peeking out, and you can feel your face grow warm when she looks back at you.

"Tell her what we were talking about," she orders, her voice soft but firm.

"Um...we were just, um—" you stutter out, and your throat goes dry as her hips keep going, her thigh muscles clenching around you.

"Go on."

"We were...just, uh, talking about how you're not here," you finally manage to get out.

"Aww, baby...” Nayeon is smiling. It’s sarcasm by the way; she's enjoying this as much as Yuna is.

Yuna's pout returns. "See, Nayeon?" She continues to roll her hips against you. "We were thinking of you,” she reiterates, making sure she has your eye contact while she fucks you with her heavenly thighs, “I know it's not fair that you aren't here, but he’s just so fucking hard… Someone had to do something about it.”

Nayeon gives a snort. “You two are lucky I’m not alone in my room right now.”

“And what would happen if you were?” Yuna challenges. You don’t recall her being this daring.

“Playing with myself, obviously,” the older girl replies. “You think I’d just watch you get him off with your thighs? I barely let that boy dominate me.”

Yuna chuckles and smiles your way.

“What a horrible situation,” she whispers, moving a little faster. “Luckily I’m here to pamper him.”

“And he’d better enjoy it while it lasts,” Nayeon smirks. “When I’m home he’s–”

Yuna cuts her off by hanging up. You stare wide-eyed in shock as she tosses the phone aside. “Too noisy. I can’t multitask,” she explains. “Call her back later. Let’s get back to it.”

With that, Yuna leans over you, her chest pressed to yours as she gives a slow grind in your lap, her hips moving in a figure eight. Your head rolls back, and you release a loud, drawn-out groan. Her thighs are so smooth against your cock, so warm, so soft. You wish you could bury your face in between them. The way her hips move is incredible; she knows what she wants, knows how to work you.

You try to sit up, but Yuna pushes you back down by your chest. Her lips curve into a smile, and she shakes her head.

"Stay down," she whispers, "you don't wanna ruin this, do you?"

"No."

"Then stay still. I'll make it quick."

Quick is an understatement. She's barely rocking her hips in your lap, but with how soft her thighs are, and the way they grip you like a vice, you know it'll probably be over sooner or later. You make a note to try and make this last for as long as you can. Yuna leans over you again, hands on your chest as she gives a rough buck of her hips. Your head snaps back and you let out a loud groan. She continues to grind against you, slowly, making sure to hit every sensitive part of your cock. You reach up to grab her hips, but she slaps your hands away.

"No touching," she tuts. "Let me do the work. You relax."

Your lips open to protest. She shushes you with a finger. 

"Own me later," she whispers, sliding the finger down to the point where your collar bones meet. "Let me take care of you now."

You gulp, nodding.

Yuna's hands settle back on your chest, nails dragging across your skin, making you shiver. She's looking at you with those doe eyes, those pretty pink lips curled into a smirk as her hips pick up pace. The friction is incredible; Yuna's thighs feel like silk wrapped around your cock, warm and soft; the way they're clamped around you has you seeing stars. Your breath hitches in your throat when Yuna moves faster.

(And another thing about her: she’s so fucking good at pleasuring you that she always makes you lose your ability to think.)

"Fuck..." You moan, throwing your head back. "Feels so good..."

She smiles at that, giving a small hum of approval. "Does it?" She asks. "Good."

You look up at her, watching her roll her hips. She's really putting in work, moving in all sorts of ways to make sure you're feeling the most pleasure. It's not lost on you; she's an angel, and you thank every god there is for having her. Your cock throbs between her thighs, aching. The head is flushed red and leaking precum, which smears all over Yuna's thighs as she keeps moving. Your toes curl in the sheets, fingers gripping the fabric as she rides you.

Yuna continues to roll her hips, giving a few rough bucks when she feels like it. You're groaning and moaning under her, letting out all kinds of sounds that make her chuckle. She's having fun teasing you, getting you close to orgasm only to slow down and watch your face contort with pleasure.

"Don't cum yet," she says softly, running her hands over your chest. "We just started."

"I-I know," you reply, breathless. "But I...fuck..."

Yuna giggles. "That good?"

"Yeah. Fuck… don't stop."

"Wouldn't dream of it, baby."

You throw your head back, your hips twitching under hers. Yuna chuckles, keeping her thighs locked around you. Your cock aches, throbbing between them as she moves; precum drips onto her legs, which only makes the slide easier for her. You're starting to sweat; your body's temperature rises with each passing moment, the feeling of her thighs overwhelming you. Yuna's so warm against you, so soft and pliable; you can't help but imagine her underneath you, moaning and writhing as you fuck her. The thought has you bucking your hips up into her, causing her to gasp.

"Someone's eager," Yuna teases, running a hand through her hair. "What's going through your head?"

You groan in response, your hands sliding down her sides to grip her hips. "Nothing," you lie.

She snorts, knowing full well what's on your mind.

"Liar." She rocks her hips forward. "What are you thinking about?"

You gaze at her for a moment. "If I said you... Would you believe me?"

She rolls her eyes. "Wouldn't put it past you," she stops moving for a bit to give you the attention. "What are you doing to me in your head?"

"I never said–"

"Please," she interjects "We both know you want to bend me over the nearest fucking surface and fuck my brains out right now."

Her thighs start moving again. Your head falls back and a moan escapes you.

"Can you blame me?" You say. She smiles.

"No, not really. I am pretty hot anyway."

(There’s that little bit of Nayeon in her.)

You nod. "You're so fucking good to me." You manage to get out.

Yuna chuckles. "Wanna know something?"

"What?"

"I love the way you feel between my thighs," she tells you. "And I love how you sound when I'm making you feel good. I want to hear more of it."

With that, she leans forward, pressing her lips to yours. Her hips keep moving, rolling against you at an agonizing pace, causing you to moan against her mouth. She's quite literally giving you everything you want, injecting some mischief here and there that makes it feel like Nayeon possesses her sporadically. She's more gentle though, more kind and more caring too. Okay, not that Nayeon doesn't care, but she's kinda ruthless when she's horny. Yuna's much more caring, and a lot more willing to be a pillow princess. She likes being pampered. She likes being loved on and adored. She wants to be fucked and she wants to be taken care of. It's a mutual feeling between the two of you. You'll worship her, and she'll love you for it.

Yuna pulls away from the kiss, moving to your neck. She gives it a few open-mouthed kisses, nipping at your skin. You sigh, letting your head fall back. She continues to rock her hips against yours, grinding down onto your cock. Her hands slide up your chest, nails digging into your skin, eliciting a gasp from you. 

Yuna chuckles, kissing up your neck to your ear. "You're so big," she whispers. "So fucking thick... Feels so good."

You groan, fingers gripping her hips.

"You like that?" She asks. "Like me talking about your cock?"

You nod.

"I love it," and she talks with a purr. "Love how it feels inside me... How deep it goes... How hard it throbs..." She whispers—no. Moans all this right into your ear. "Fuck... I really want this thing inside me right now."

"Later," you quickly propose. "Please?"

She laughs — sweet and melodic. "Never said that I would put it inside of me," she reminds you. "Now, you zip up and make a mess for me, okay?"

You moan in response, nodding your head. You can't deny her, not when she's making you feel this good.

Yuna keeps moving against you, her thighs clenching around your cock. She moves slowly, her hips rolling at an agonizing pace. Your cock is aching; you can feel yourself getting closer to your climax with each passing second.  Your eyes are glued to her thighs, watching them move. She looks so good on top of you. Her hips are hypnotic; your mind spins as she fucks you.

Your eyes move up to her face. Her eyes are closed, lips parted slightly as she focuses on her movements. Her hands are still on your chest, fingers flexing. Her breathing is heavy, warm breath fanning over your skin. You take in her beauty, letting it consume you. She's so fucking perfect, so angelic. Hard to believe how much of a slut she can be.

"I'm close," you manage to get out. "Yuna..."

She smiles. "Go ahead, baby."

"Don't wanna make a mess." You say.

Yuna giggles, her hips picking up pace. "Too late for that."

That's what sends you over the edge. 

You cum; it’s fucking messy. 

Cum fills the space between your dick and her thighs, slathering and flowing and spurting onto everything it can possibly get on. It slicks the insides of her legs; gets on her ass a little and pools beneath her crotch. Yuna hums in satisfaction, a smile on her face as she turns behind her to survey the damage.

“Clean up on aisle four,” she mutters, reaching back to wipe some cum off her ass. She sends her fingers into her mouth – makes a big show of sucking them clean. You can’t help but chuckle a little at the sight.

“Hey,” you call her, your hands reaching down to grope her ass. “I’m planning to change the sheets tomorrow.”

She gives you a look. “Are you saying that cause you’re actually going to? Or because you just want to fuck me right now.”

Oh and she’s perceiving you almost too accurately. You won’t admit your answer, even to yourself. 

“I dunno,” you shrug. “Either way: we’ll have to change the sheets.”

Yuna matches your game.

“Call Nayeon back,” she instructs. “Let’s show her what she’s missing.”

***

Again: Nayeon just kinda chooses when and where to be a bit of a minx, and you just have to roll with it really.

The decision—for today—was made somewhere halfway through the drive to fetch Yuna. You were just talking about how Nayeon had picked that girl up, and her voice trails off as she passes the exit sign. She just keeps on driving while pretending to look like she’s in the right. The GPS doesn’t lie though: it keeps on promoting her to U-turn at every opportunity that’s available to her. She ignores it of course, kinda tunes it out even though the instructions are really getting annoying now (and not to mention it sounds like it’s demanding her to go back this instant, like a mum who just can’t get her kid to listen). It’s like how she ignores you lately.

“She’s probably gonna think we crashed or something,” you muse, lurching in your seat a little as she takes a left. “We’re like, what, fifteen minutes late or something?”

“Nah,” Nayeon quickly refutes. She stops to let a BMW swerve around the corner before she gently taps on the gas. “She’s probably still packing her things,” the turning signal clicks at a steady tempo, stops after she takes the 3rd exit on the roundabout, “maybe even settling a bit of her make up or whatever.”

This is the most she’s spoken since her return.

You hazard a glance at the GPS. The blue line leading you back to your intended destination only grows longer, sometimes glitching a little as the turn of Nayeon’s car gives it the illusion that you’re heading back when she’s really just turning into a one way street. You can’t tell if she knows where she’s going or if she’s just throwing out random bullshit.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she grumbles, casting a rather nasty glance your way. “I’m just taking a shortcut. That’s all.”

(Is it not painfully obvious where this is going?)

And a few minutes later, she’s got you gritting your teeth in the backseat of her car. No smug remarks from her — she has your balls in her mouth and she’s getting real sloppy in some alley she’s parked in. You don’t know where to begin, where to find solid reasoning for what you’re witnessing and feeling right now. It’s pretty fucking asinine (and she probably knows that it is) and damn straight goes against all branches of logic. In no world does she have a valid reason for being this horny at 11am on a Saturday.

(Actually, there’s one reason: she just feels like it.)

“You do know that we’re both astronomically fucked if anyone so much as glances our way.” You’re ashamed to admit that this actually has you hissing, partly out of annoyance and partly out of pleasure. “You’re fucking ridiculous. I hope you know that.”

Nayeon spits on your cock. Her hands close into a fist around your shaft, her eyes almost empty as she spreads her saliva in a close to even layer over you. “Are you quite done?” She asks. The emptiness in her voice is kinda scary. It makes her sound exasperated, like she’s sick of your reasonings. “You know, you talk an awful lot for someone who literally writhes when I quite fucking literally touch your cock. Don’t act tough on me. We both know who you are. We both know you’re my toy.”

Figuring out if this is part of the bit is the hardest part of your predicament. She plays too much as of late: with her eyes, her tone, her facial expressions… Sometimes it makes you wonder if she really keeps you around just to satisfy her cock cravings or if she really wants you around. Ever since she’s gotten back, it feels like she’s been fucking you and Yuna with nothing but pure hate. You feel it in her eyes, in the violent buck of her hips when she rides you or even in the way she spanks Yuna with a little too much glee. It confounds you; admittedly: you’re petrified of the possibility that she’s straight up jealous of how your relationship with Yuna’s been going since she roped her into this mess.

You can’t help it. You need to know.

You grab her by the wrist, a little harder than you’d like but it’ll have to do. “Stop,” and you don’t mean to be assertive, but it’s all you can summon now. “I need you to answer me honestly.”

In the passenger-side seat, Nayeon fixes her gaze on yours. She tries to struggle from your grasp; you keep a firm grip.

“What are we?” you ask, straightforward; direct. You’ve been with Yuna enough times to know that this’ll elicit an honest response from her. “Cause it just feels like I’m just your piece of meat to fuck and own. We don’t talk, you don’t even look at me when we go to sleep… What are we Nayeon?”

And it makes her freeze. Your sincerity is scary to her — ropes her into your thoughts more than you usually do. She’s silent, face blanker than paper. Her fingers on the hand that you’ve got in your grasp curl a little. “We’re just fuck buddies… That’s all.”

You just stare at her for a second, soak in the weight of that statement. “Then why does it feel like you’re jealous of Yuna?”

“I’m not. What are you even…” You can tell she’s surprised — her eyes do that thing where they widen, and then she blinks. Your question is loaded to her: it catches her in a place where she’s made privy to the fact that her emotions are more out there and perceptible than she’d like.

You raise an eyebrow. “Come on… We both know that’s not true.”

Her plump lips purse. She looks away for a moment.

“And what would you do if I said I was jealous?” she raises. “Kick her out? Stop fucking her?”

She raises a valid argument. Frankly, you didn’t bring this up with the end goal of sorting this out. You just wanted the older girl to accept her emotions, maybe acknowledge that it’s a little petty and then kinda just move on. Of course, nothing with Nayeon is ever really that simple.

“You’re the one that brought her into this,” you remind her, partly because you feel like she isn’t acknowledging her fault in this situation and partly because you have nothing else to say.

She rips her hand away. “So it’s my fault then?”

“What?” you sit up a little in your seat. “No. That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying?”

Her eyes sear your soul with her frustration. This hurts her more than you think. “I’m saying we’re both a little guilty here,” you clarify. “We both have a part to play in how you feel, so maybe we should just talk this out.”

She goes quiet. Too quiet considering the circumstance.

“Later.” She decides. “I think better with a load inside of me.”

***

So to reiterate: they're similar but kinda different. 

“Jesus… Did you really have to get it on my dress?” Nayeon’s clearly pissed. The wet wipe in her hand rubs at the stain of her dress furiously, as if the aggressive motion will kinda just get it out magically. Yuna retires into your arms, her sweat-matted hair sticking to your chest a little. The syntax behind how you got to this point is more complicated that you’d care to elaborate on, but let’s just say: Nayeon was happier a second ago…

(Okay but to be fair: her dress was in the way when you pulled out. So it’s like, half your fault, but you like to play the victim.)

“Relax,” Yuna assures her senior. “It’ll wash right off.”

Nayeon clicks her tongue in annoyance. “You stop defending him. He knows what he’s done.”

Yuna giggles. She smiles up at you. “Yeah… He does.”

They don’t know it, but they’ve got a pretty good dynamic going: Mother-daughter; Spicy and Sweet; Sour Cream and Onion. They contrast, diverge; but they compliment each other almost perfectly. 

(It’s no family reunion; but it’s dinner and diatribes from here on out.)

—

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. Hope you will be full of joy and fulfill your dreams next year!

Anyway! This is lokwey the start of a series where I just kinda explore more filthy and complicated things, stuff that’s just not quite right but somehow works. I won’t be following the same idols and people, so this isn’t exactly an interlinked series. Hard to explain but you guys can just come to your own conclusions really.

~Nichu

[gay-dorito-dust]

Geta’s kisses were strong, possessive as though he was intentionally making himself envious of the idea that your lips had been touched by another before him.

His hand could be found at your neck more often than not, squeezing it now and then as though to remind you of who was the more dominate one out of the two of you, his thumb would even caress the pulse on your neck to see whether he was doing things that made your heart work a little harder.

His kisses were hot and soft at the same time. yet firm and had a way of leaving you a little breathless afterwards. He’s a man that has everything and yet he still heavily influenced by human greed and desire for even more, so much more despite controlling an already dominating empire.

So to say his kisses weren’t also demanding for more and more of you was an understatement as he would always find the need to deepen the kiss, invade your mouth with his tongue after demanding entrance before taking complete control. His kisses didn’t allow you to be in control anytime at all, for Geta always needs to be in content power no matter what for he doesn’t like the feeling of being weak or easily overthrown in anything.

Yet let’s say after an almost successful assassination attempt on either of your lives, Geta’s kisses become more of a celebration of living, a reminder that you were both still alive despite what the gods chose to throw at you and how you both continue to thrive regardless. His kisses were also ones of relief that his reign got to continue but also that you weren’t taken from him unceremoniously, not that he would ever admit it to you but he wasn’t quiet ready to give you up just yet, not when he was heavily indulging on the taste of your lips and how nicely you slot against him.

Caracalla’s kisses were bruising and felt rough, rushed as though he was running out of time and he wanted to taste every last part of you before so, even if meant suffering through his harsh bites to your bottom lip and causing it to bleed somewhat before slipping his tongue in.

His kisses left your lips aching and had a lingering tingling feeling of pain, it made you wonder if the man smiling before you was capable of a softer and less intense way to express his innermost passion and love. He was, it was just extraordinary rare that you were led to believe you married a man whose only emotions was sadistic and lustful.

Yet on the rare one off occasion where he’d be feeling soft and affectionate his kisses became soft, almost featherlight, and tender as he scattered them across your jaw, neck and collar bone as though he was eagerly chasing after something as you ran your fingers through his fiery hair in content. His kisses were almost desperate to keep you with him, to remind you that he was the one you married and dedicated yourself to despite his inherent chaos.

He tries to prolong the kisses as much as possible as they varied from moment to moment depending on his emotions and where his minds was in during the kisses. So with Caracalla you were subjected to more lustful, ravenous, carnivorous as though he was trying to devour you or make you into one being through deepened kisses and painful looking love-bites that left you wincing upon grazing them.

His kisses were like fire but you couldn’t help but grow addicted to it and the sting that came from his teeth digging into your bottom lip, he wasn’t good for you and yet you couldn’t help but become more and more convinced through every kiss that you could help him, become his solace and safe space; yet you knew deep down that would never be the case but yet his kisses made you all the more ignorant to his more dangerous capabilities in other aspects as though he was slowly corrupting you with each and every kiss.

[princesssmars]

she gon’ eat this pussy up cause it’s sweet!

yet another boxer!vi x reader

p.i - p.ii

wc : 3.310

contains : fxf. fem!reader. hair and skin tone not described. fluff. some jealousy made up by hotel sex. oral and penetrative sex (r!receiving). they both want that cookie so bad.

a/n : they keep getting longer help me. i already have kind of an idea of the next part in my brain because the day after i started this i had the horniest dream ever so i'll just write that out. here's the position if you can't get the logistics down ik that happens to me lmao. enjoy <3

you never saw yourself as the type to get on a plane at the drop of a hat just to get railed silly by your girlfriend, but you’ve been learning a lot about yourself these past few months.

and one thing that’s made itself apparent? you and violet were fucking whipped for each other.

obviously it was to be expected, over six months in and this had been both of your longest relationship yet. you both made the time and effort to make sure it continued to be so, constantly spending quality time together and making sure boundaries were respected and desires were met.

it seemed that as everyday passed your shared devotion just increased tenfold.

as well as your… equal amounts of passion.

it was almost silly to look back and remember how you were so nervous that intimacy would change something in how she saw you. you don’t regret waiting and setting that boundary for yourself, but after the first few times together you really wish you had started sleeping with her earlier.

obviously sex wasn’t the only reason you loved violet. she was an amazing lover in every sense of the word, always ever so affectionate and caring to your physical and emotional well-being. you constantly told her you’re sure her clear superiority at being an older sister made her such a sweetheart, always protecting and looking out for you even when it wasn’t needed.

but it was only a matter of time before vi’s skills and charisma in the ring caught up to her, and before both of you knew it she had greatly increased in popularity to the point she was booking matches in other cities, occasionally leaving you along for weekends when she had to stay overnights to train and perform.

and you over it for the first couple of times. it wasn’t the end of the world when the two do you had to be separated, and when you got lonely there were always other ways you could be there for each other.

“how much longer until your back?”

“aww, don’t tell me my baby’s missing me already?” vi’s mocking voice rings through the receiver, groggy and low after falling asleep an hour prior before you called.

“can you blame me? normally i have you all over me every saturday night like clockwork, now i’m all alone in this bed. in my underwear. alone.”

she chuckled at your brazenness and audibly shifted herself over the phone. “oh yeah? maybe i could help you with that. wouldn’t mind staying up to help you…”

you hum playfully. “then maybe i could give you a visual guide?”

as soon as she hears the incoming face-time call vi’s eyes briefly close in bliss. god, does she adore you.

and of course having vi guide you through masturbating from miles away for the first time is a thrilling experience, but it still leaves a slight ache in your cunt heart to not have her by your side as often as you once did.

but when you saw the radiant look on her face on television after she won a fight, heard the joy in her voice when she called you as soon as she walked off of the platform, you didn’t have it in you to bring up your silly complaints about not having her by your side twenty four seven. she was finally living her dream, and you wouldn’t cause her any worries about balancing it with you.

so you’d shut up, use her flexing mirror pics to get off, and be patient. it shouldn’t be hard, you’re an independent woman and completely secure in your relationship.

well. maybe just independent.

a big company wanted vi as a sponsor and set up a schedule for her to fly out to film promotional material for nearly five weeks. your girlfriend was intuitive, asking you if you were okay with her being gone for so long. you looked at her like she was crazy, telling her she’d have to be insane not to take this chance even if it meant you’d be alone for longer than usual. she seemed unsure, but was still excited about the opportunity and bid you goodbye at the airport with a big kiss and a promise to see you soon.

it was fine, the same daily texting and calls as had happened before. but after a few days she tells you her conversation might be slipping because of some of the extra trainings they’re making her do for the promo. that’s all fine and dandy to you.

until you see it on social media. it starts as a clip of vi hanging out with some of her fellow boxer friends at a club, nothing out of the norm. but going though the comments makes you skip way to around the end of the video, and you feel your eyes burn into your phone when a woman, an admittedly gorgeous woman comes up to the table and sidles up right next to vi in the booth.

honestly, this was nothing new. you’d known since your introduction that woman drew to vi like a magnet. your own friend was starstruck when she talked to the both of you and gave you a very funny passive aggressive message when she found out the two of you were dating. you’d had to deal with desperate fans at her games, begging for a chance to talk to her, touch her, beg her to autograph their chests at one point?

so who you find out to be a fairly famous influencer show up at the same hot spots as your girlfriend who’s over a hundred miles away isn’t surprising. what is surprising is the fact they keep popping up in the same places. you would never for a second think vi would cheat on you. it still doesn’t help quell the little green devil that lives in your chest, though.

its am early friday afternoon in your apartment and you’re scrolling through delivery apps for a quick meal when you see vi’s contact come up at the top of your screen, answering it as soon as you process who’s calling.

“someone’s eager to talk to me.”

“it’s nice to talk to you too, vi. how was your day?”

“it was alright, we just did those pictures and photoshoots today so i got to just stand around and show off my good looks.”

“it is one of your strong suits.” you dryly chuckle and keep scrolling through the food options, battling between pizza or pasta.

“feels better when i have you looking at me, though. you doing anything tonight?”

“nothing much, dining in and watching a movie i guess.”

she hums and is about to say something else but the green ugly devil decided to reach its hand through your body and puppet your mouth for no reason whatsoever.

“you going back to the club tonight?”

“uhhh no, all my friends are busy and i have an early morning tomorrow. why, you feeling left out pretty?”

“what if i was?”its silent once again.

“then what if i did something about it?”

so you’re here, flying through the dark of night thousands of feet in the air and slowly descending to an airport where violet is waiting for you, standing at the pickup area is a very inconspicuous black tracksuit with a black beanie to cover up most of her hair and large black shades. there aren’t words to describe the euphoria you feel being back in her warm embrace, sinking into her arms as she rests her chin on your head.

“i cant believe you really did this. and i cant believe they let you through the airport wearing that.”

“i know, had to give security some autographs. cmon, we’ll go back to the hotel.”

you sit a little too close for safety standards next to vi in the back of the dark suv the company had been lending her for her stay in the city, her arm wrapped around your shoulders as the other sat innocently on your thigh. well, as innocently as it could be with vi. she wouldnt do anything too crazy with someone driving, but her thick finger did inch towards the gap between your legs a few times.

there’s an unspoken tension as you arrive at vi’s hotel and she takes your bags to lead you up to her room, keeping close to you until you make it through the door and she sets your stuff by the spacious closet.

she had sent you some pictures as soon as she had checked in, but it was still surreal seeing the thing in person. it was big, but it made sense since she was an extended stay on a ‘business’ trip of sorts. you smile seeing the left open chip bag on the desk and one of her favorite movies playing on the television.

you’re brought out of your stupor by a familiar large hand grabbing yours and tugging you over to the plush couch that sits against the end of the bed.

“so, what ‘cha think?”

”you roll your eyes and relax into the chair some more. “i think that you should take these brand deals more often. just make sure to keep brining me along.”

“oh i definitely would, wouldn’t want you feeling jealous again, would we?”

your mouth gapes open as your body sits upright, looking at her defensively as she struggles to hold in her laughter. there’s no denying it with her so you decide to do the mature thing and cross your arms with a pout.

“how do you figure that?”

“because i know people are talking about the influencers that keep showing up to our booths. and i know your best friend told me about your sour mood and threatened to kick my ass over it.”

you sigh and turn your body to hers, resting your leg over her thighs when she makes the motion to pull it over herself. “’m sorry, vi. you know i’d never believe you’d do that. it’s just…”

“it’s just what?” her thumb and forefinger come up to pink your chin and bring your downcast eyes to her attention, “you know you can tell me anything, right?”

“of course i do. i didn’t wanna complain because everything is going so greatly for you, and i didnt want to make it seem like im unsupportive. i couldnt be prouder of you, vi. it’s just hard not being around you so much. i love our calls and the pictures and everything but its not..its not you.”

her eyes turn soft and she shakes her head before pulling your entire body to rest on her lap, both of her hands coming up to your cheeks to bring you in for a sweet but hard kiss.

she pulls back and peppers some more kisses over your face until you start to laugh, the sound of your laughter always brighting up her day. “i understand, baby. you don’t sound unsupportive, i promise. it’s been hard for me too. i’ve missed you so much when i’ve been gone, you have no idea.”

you gently nod and give a dreamy sigh before sinking into her arms once again, hand coming up to palm at her hair as hers travel to your waist and gently massage up and down your back. you’re content to enjoy the moment until her hands start to skirt lower and lower and suddenly you remember that you’re back in the arms of you’re girlfriend who you haven’t been able to sleep with in literal weeks.

you let out a sharp squeak when her palms travel down to your ass and squeeze you over the fabric of your leggings, head coming do so scarred lips can whisper in your ear.

“how about i show you how much i missed you?”

you’re very glad that its been established you’re both desperate for each other, because otherwise you’d be nothing but embarrassed to be in this position.

you’re starting to feel a slight kink in your neck from staring down at the woman currently eating you out like she’s starving, but when she takes your clit into her mouth and sucks so intensely you throw your head back you briefly think any small amount of pain is worth the pleasure she’s giving to you now.

your arms hold you up on the back part of the couch, one knee resting on the armrest and the other on vi’s thigh so your pussy is right in front of her face for her to get easy access, her hands scooping and pulling you in by your ass and making it impossible for you to back up and avoid the pleasure when it becomes too much.

“vi, nngh, vi,” the only words you can get out are slurred mumbles of her name and curses as her tongue dips down to thrust into you. her nose bridge more than enough to give you stimulation on your clit as she somehow buries her head even further into your cunt and groans into you, the vibrations only driving you crazier.

you whine when she pulls her face away to stare up at you, eyes hungry and sweet like you’re a deity that’s letting her drink freely from the fountain of youth.

“you still jealous, muffin?”

“vi cmon, please keep going, please-”

your mouth gapes wider when she quickly leans down and licks a long strip up and over your clit, pulling away with more of you smeared over her lips than before.

‘fuck, violet,” your head tips back in bliss, concentration slipping as you feel her hot breath ghost across your clit and her eyes trained on your chest as you arch your back.

her fingers clench again and pull your cheeks apart, a little grin gracing her face at your high-pitched gasp at feeling the cool air of the hotel room hitting both of your holes.

“y’know, i seem to recall a certain someone making fun of me for being jealous just a few months ago..”

you groan as she speaks, pushing your hips in a futile attempt to get her to keep eating you out.

“not so fun when its you, huh angel?” her hand travels further up from your behind so her fingers can prod at your entrance, teasing your hole to bring more of those desperate sounds that she loves to pull from deep in your chest. “it’s ok, i know it was hard for you. could see how desperate you were over the phone.”

“i wasn't- oh, shit, i wasn't that needy.”

only about an inch of her ring and middle fingers are shallowly thrusting into you but its enough to drive you wild. its a bit humbling to realize she has you in the palm of her hand already, but you cant find it in you to care.

“tell that to my favorite pillow. swear i thought you were gonna give yourself rug burn last week.”

you drop your head to look at her again and she cant help but laugh at your best attempt at a scowl, eyes droopy and mouth scrunched in the cutest little pout she’s ever seen.

she bites her lip and suddenly pushes her fingers all the way to the hilt inside of you, silently reveling in how she has to hold your body up when your knee beside her starts to wobble.

she thought about teasing you more, holding her fingers in place and not moving until you admitted you were desperate for her, that you needed her. but she was just as desperate for you as you were for her, and when she feels your walls clenching around her combined with you starting to drip down her hand and wrist her brain goes on autopilot and she starts to fuck you at the pace she knows you love best.

in only an instant you're moaning and writhing above her, hips jerking back and forth for friction and your nails digging into the fabric of the sofa. a brief voice in your head tries to remind you that you’re in a hotel and other people can likely hear you, but like she can read your mind vi gives a stern whisper to ‘put it down.’ as soon as you raise your arm to bite into it.

vi lets out a mix between a laugh and a groan at your immediate obedience to her command and she briefly becomes aware of the arousal that's building between her own legs. she subconsciously starts rubbing her thighs together as she continues to stare up at your body. when your body jolts when she hits that spot deep inside of you she’s afraid she might actually cum in her pants and decides to distract herself by stuffing her face back between your legs.

it often scared you, how amazing vi was at eating pussy. you try not to think about how most of it was probably due to extensive practice, but when she sucks at your clit in that way that leaves a rather obvious noise you can't find it in you to care. she’s all yours now anyway, and the thought only brings you closer and closer to the edge.

she can tell you’re about to cum by the tremors in your legs and your hand coming to the back of her head to push her farther into your cunt. she likes doesn't care about the pain of your nails in her scalp. doesn't care that it’s becoming just a bit hard to breathe. there are two places in the world where vi truly feels at peace, in the ring during a fight and in between your thighs as she brings you to an orgasm. she tries to mumble gentle encouragements as you cum around her fingers but they only come out incoherent, the vibrations from her voice only driving you further up the wall as you release.

even as you come down your body still has little tremors brought on by vi continuing to lick and suck at you after your orgasm ends, only your hand digging into her hair and pulling her away able to stop her from going at you. her face is flushed, covered in cum, and her mouth agape as she takes deep breaths in and out. you’re sure you look no better but she makes no mention of what a mess you must be, only flopping her head to the side to rest on your thigh so she can stare up at you.

“i…i might have been a little jealous.”

she breathes out an airy chuckle at your confession and gently shakes her head. “i think we share that in common.”

your eyes start to droop closed in the bliss of the moment, your body in a dreamy state while vi kisses over your thighs and stomach before giggling when vi places a short chaste kiss right on your cunt,

“not a problem as long as we can keep reassuring each other, huh?”

you never saw yourself as the type to have to hide your face in a pillow when your girlfriend got delivered a noise complaint by a flustered hotel attendant at eight in the morning, but you’ve been learning a lot about yourself lately.

[onlyhereforthestories]

First Holiday With The In-Laws (Leah Williamson x Reader)

Day 22. A shorter one today sorry I didn’t have much time today 🫶

The snow crunched underfoot as you and Leah made your way up the stone path to the front door, the glow of golden light spilling from the windows warming the dark, frosty evening. You could hear laughter inside, a symphony of voices blending together, and it only added to the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. Leah squeezed your hand, her soft smile instantly grounding you.

“They’re going to love you,” she said, leaning in to press a kiss to your temple. “Just be yourself.”

The front door swung open before you could respond, and a petite woman with warm brown eyes and a Christmas apron stepped out onto the porch. “There you are! We were starting to think you got lost!” Leah’s mom pulled her into a tight hug, then turned to you with open arms.

“And you must be the one she can’t stop talking about!”

You laughed nervously but leaned into the hug, surprised at how instantly comforting it was. “It’s really nice to meet you,” you said, your voice softer than you intended.

Inside, the house was alive with the smells of cinnamon and roasted turkey, mingling with the sound of chatter and a playlist of Christmas classics. The living room was adorned with twinkling lights and garlands, and in the corner stood a magnificent tree, its ornaments glimmering in the firelight. Leah’s younger siblings were playing a card game on the floor while her father and an uncle debated something passionately at the dining table.

Leah guided you around the room, introducing you to everyone. Her dad gave you a hearty handshake, her sisters pulled you into a spirited debate about whether “Die Hard” was a Christmas movie, and by the time the introductions were over, your nervousness had melted into a bubbling warmth.

Dinner was a feast. The table groaned under the weight of dishes: glazed ham, mashed potatoes, roasted vegetables, and enough pies to rival a bakery. You found yourself laughing between bites as Leah’s family shared stories, their easy banter pulling you in like you’d been part of it forever. Leah’s grandmother took a particular liking to you, pinching your cheek as she teased Leah about “finally bringing someone decent home.”

After dessert, an array of cookies and cakes that left everyone loosening their belts, Leah’s mom announced it was time for games. “We always play charades on Christmas Eve,” she declared, bustling to set up the living room. “But first, let’s do the question jar!”

Leah groaned playfully. “Oh no, not the jar.”

“What’s the jar?” you asked, intrigued.

Leah’s mom grinned mischievously, holding up a festive tin decorated with reindeer. “It’s where we keep all the best and most embarrassing questions and prompts. Everyone has to answer or act out something. No exceptions.”

You found yourself nestled on the couch between Leah and her youngest sibling, a giggly preteen who immediately handed you a piece of paper. “You’re new, so you go first.”

Your question made you laugh: “What’s Leah’s most embarrassing childhood memory?”

Leah groaned louder, burying her face in her hands. “Oh, come on, don’t do this.”

Her brother immediately jumped in. “Oh, I’ve got this one! When Leah was seven, she thought she could build a sled ramp off the roof. It ended with her in the snowbank and her Barbie Dreamhouse crushed underneath her.”

Leah shot him a mock glare, but her laughter was contagious. “Okay, fine, but don’t forget who convinced me it would work,” she retorted, pointing at him.

As the night went on, the jar produced more hilarious confessions and wild dares. Leah’s dad had to attempt an Irish jig, her mom revealed she once dyed her hair green for a dare in college, and Leah herself had to mimic her grandmother’s unmistakable laugh, a performance that had the entire room in stitches, even the grandmother in question.

By the time the games wound down, your cheeks ached from smiling so much, and Leah pulled you into her side, her arm draped casually around your shoulders. Her eyes sparkled as she leaned down to whisper, “I told you they’d love you.”

And they did. It was impossible not to feel it in every warm smile, every hearty laugh, and the way her dad clapped you on the back as you said your goodbyes. As you and Leah stepped back into the snowy night, your heart felt as full as the house behind you, glowing with the love of a family that had just made room for you.

[curly-my-beloved]

I love love LOVE your fanfics<3

Anyways, can you write a Curly smut with a reader who's too timid of the idea of sex. Like, he's being so patient and they're just so sensitive and nervous and all they can do is lay down and let him lead with a smile on their face. They're so excited and nervous they can't tell what's causing the butterflies in they're stomach. I just think it's be romantic to have passionate sex with Curly<3

Comforting moment during sex with Curly (drabble)

cw: gn! reader. reader's genitals not specified. non-descriptive sex. can be read as part of the fiance saga if you want.

"Shhh... it's alright..."

Your eyes flickered open, looking up at the gorgeous man above you. He put his body weight on one of his arms, his hand close to your head as his other hand gently cupped your cheek.

He was a great view.

Handsome. Stunning, even. The way some of his golden hair fell out of place to frame his face, which seemed to glow with a thin layer of sweat, all coming together to add an extra glow to those beautiful but oh, so painfully bright eyes of his.

The eyes that where now focused on your own, trying to understand why you'd tear up in a moment like this. Did he do something wrong? He did his best to be gentle, but maybe that wasn't enough and you were in pain despite his best efforts? He hoped not, he'd never forgive himself if he ruined it for you...

Or maybe, as much as he dreaded the thought... maybe you were scared. Maybe somehow he put too much pressure on you and didn't even realize.

"What troubles you, my love?"

Oh, how you love his voice. It was so soft, so warm, so comforting... it made you melt every time, especially when he used the hushed tone he used now.

You let out a soft, content sound as he wiped away a stray tear of yours. His hand was a bit rough, even after he started using hand cream after your recommendations. Not that you minded, there was something comforting about the texture of his skin. And the way his palm fit perfectly against your cheek.

You shyly reached out to him and he understood immediately, pulling you close. His arms wrapped around you securely his strong heart beating against yours through your chests as he allowed you to cling to him.

Finally, you confessed to him what was on your mind. You weren't in pain or scared, which made him visibly less tense. You were... happy. Giddy, even. And so ridiculously, too. The joy that filled your heart must've simply spilled over, making you tear up from how happy and just how ridiculously in love with him you were. It almost made him chuckle.

"I love you too, sweetheart. More than you know."

He assured softly, carefully laying down with you still in his arms. Perhaps tonight was a better night for cuddles.

[yerrmar]

❧ GLUE SONG pt6☙

warning: swearing, cheesy ass kissing scene, kind of implies doing more than kissing, she/her usage for reader.

summary: you hate the whole of your dads hockey team except his and your favourite player Luke Castellan.

evie’s notes: i haven’t written a kiss scene in a while so im sorry if it’s shit and cringey💔

pt5

You could hear your heartbeat in your head, your stomach churned with nerves. Luke Castellan, the boy you've despised since the day you met him because of how arrogant and cocky he is, is now making you feel so weak in the knees. The mere thought of him even laying a finger on you makes your whole world shake. But why?

Because he complimented you once? Or because his cockiness can be quite attractive at times? Maybe because the boy looks like he was hand made sculpted by the Gods. Either way, this feeling towards him was so unfamiliar yet it felt so natural.

You didn't even have time to fully get yourself together before he showed up at your door, the boy lived 20 minutes away yet got there 5 minutes after he texted you. Slowly, you peeked out your window to try and capture a glimpse of him before being face to face with that damn smirk of his that made you either want to punch his face or kiss his lips.

His dark, curly hair clung to his forehead, damp from the rain, spilling over just enough to shield his eyes. He was wearing a pair of baggy sweatpants and of course a compression shirt, it looked like he'd just come from the gym which really didn't help your screaming heart.

You barely gave him time to knock on the door before you threw it open and closed the door behind you, stupidly forgetting that it was currently pouring down. And there it was, that fucking smirk he wore like a crown.

"Hey, princess." Oh gods, was he trying to kill you? His eyes moved slowly over you, lingering on every curve, every line, as if he was studying a masterpiece—finding beauty in both what was perfectly in place and what was deemed imperfect. "The jersey really does look better on you."

You roll your eyes, unable to hide the smile creeping onto your face. "Oh, shut up," you say, crossing your arms, your voice sharp but your gaze betraying you. "You really think I'm going to fall for that?"

Luke grins, taking a slow step forward. "Fall for what? The truth? That jersey's practically made for you." His eyes flicker over you, deliberate and teasing, but there's a warmth in his gaze that he knows you can't ignore.

You scoff, turning away to hide the flush creeping up your neck. "Gods, you're unbearable."

He steps in your path, cornering you just enough to make you feel the tension between you. "Because you secretly love it," he says, voice lowering a touch. "You like it when I push your buttons."

Your eyes snap to his, and you force a scowl. "You have a ridiculous amount of confidence for someone who can't take a hint."

"Yeah?" Luke leans in a little closer, his smirk never faltering. "Funny. You've been giving me plenty of hints, princess. We gonna ignore that tweet you posted?"

You stare at him, lips parted, but you can't keep the smile from tugging at the corners of your mouth. "You're infuriating," you mutter, but it's half-hearted at best.

"And yet, here you are," he says, grinning even wider. "Outside in the rain with me."

You don't know what came over you at that moment because one minute you were shivering from the pouring rain and the next your body was suddenly filled with warmth when you pulled him into a tight embrace, your heart racing in your chest. Luke's eyes widened for a moment surprised by your bold action, but softened quickly into a look of tenderness as your lips met his in a soft, sweet kiss. He wrapped his strong arms around your waist, pulling you against his broad chest, as he returned the kiss with a gentle passion. Your bodies pressed close together, you could feel the warmth of his body against your own, chasing away the cold from the rain that still poured around you. Gods this was so cliche.

"What was that for?" Luke asked, his voice low and warm, a small smirk on his lips.

Your cheeks flushed with heat, and you averted your gaze from his intense stare, suddenly feeling shy and flustered. "I—I don't know," you managed to stammer out, your voice breathless. "It just felt right, in the moment..."

He chuckled softly, Luke's hands still wrapped around your waist, his thumbs rubbing slow, comforting circles against your skin. "Well, I'm not complaining," he said, his smirk widening. You tried to come up with a snarky reply, but your mind was a swirling mess of emotions.

He noticed the flush and teased you even further. "Wow, you're speechless for once, that's new."

You huffed in annoyance, trying to hide your growing embarrassment, but it was hard when he was so close, his eyes fixed on you with that infuriatingly charming smirk. "Can you not be so annoying for once," you muttered, your voice soft.

Luke smirked, moving a strand of your soaking her that was stuck to your face behind your ear making you feel like you were about to collapse. He let out a soft hum and pulled you tighter against his chest. His hands wandered under your shirt, and he began to toy with the bare skin of your hips. "Nah."

Luke didn't want to stop kissing you, not when he finally had the girl he'd been pining for since the day he met her. He dipped his head back down to pull you in for a deeper and longer kiss. His hands moved up your back, slowly lifting the fabric of your jersey as his hands roamed underneath it.

He continued to kiss you, now with even more eagerness than before. One of his hands came up and grabbed ahold of your face, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. He pulled you as close to him as he could, not wanting any space between your bodies.

The couple's moment was interrupted by the sound of the Stoll brothers laughing and cheering. Luke broke the kiss and let out a loud huff, clearly annoyed. "God damn it.." He muttered under his breath, before turning his head to glare at the two younger demigods.

"Finally!" Connor cheered phone in hand whilst Travis whooped behind him shaking his fist in the air.

"Do you mind?" Luke huffed, whilst you stood there embarrassed as hell.

"Nope! Enjoy yourselves love birds!" Travis cooed as Connor turned around and pretended to be making out with someone.

Well, the moment was ruined, but oh gods were the butterflies going absolutely crazy in your stomach when you looked back up at Luke and he was staring at you with such tenderness, his eyes soft but full of longing, as if he could see straight into your soul. The way he looked at you—like you were the only person on earth, the only person that mattered—made your heart skip a beat. His gaze was full of love, and for a moment, it felt like the world had disappeared, leaving only the two of you, wrapped in something unspoken but deeply felt. You let a cheesy grin take over your face "You coming in?"

travisstoll

♬the perfect pair • beabadoobee

Liked by yn.ln and others

travisstoll FINALLY omg took them long enough

connorstoll such a moving moment i cried

travisstoll i could feel their love

thelukecastellan and then you ruined it

travisstoll i think the fact that you replied to this an 2 hours late proves we in fact did not

seaweedbrain EW EW EW

yn.ln you guys are such creeps

travisstoll you just begged me to send this to you in the dms

yn.ln your point?

xo.silena AHHHH YES OMG my babies😭

clarlarue motherfucker stole my wife wtf

c.rodriguez your wife stole my man😔

clarlarue it’s okay because we have each other🥰

thelukecastellan you’re not allowed to be cute under a post of me and my girlfriend being cute

yn.ln girlfriend? hold on when was this discussed

thelukecastellan was you taking off my shirt not implying it?

wisegirl guys can you not discuss this in person you’re literally together right now

thelukecastellan mb

thelukecastellan

♬Glue Song • beabadoobee

Liked by yn.ln and others

thelukecastellan i love my girlfriend😍

c.rodriguez gang you just got together

thelukecastellan and? i love my girlfriend

yn.ln i love you too😽😽 but you’re forgetting my dad follows you

thelukecastellan oh shit

thebestcoachever happy for you both not liking that last picture

thelukecastellan sorry sir😔

seaweedbrain you tell him to keep it in his pants cap🫡

thelukecastellan stfu

wisegirl finally omg going back and forth between messaging you two about each other was exhausting

yn.ln now me and luke can double date with you and percy🥰

wisegirl okay there was no need😔

seaweedbrain why would we double date?

yn.ln sh sh percy it’s okay

thelukecastellan LMFAO

tags:

@s0urw00lf @lucylovesme @blairfox04 @kidkrowk @rafslytherin

[4vanaa]

WHILE YOU WERE SLEEPING, rafe cameron, 09

summary: y/n left the outer banks years ago, determined to build a life far from the memories of her childhood love, rafe cameron. now a botanist, she's moved on-though a quiet part of her still clings to the past. when an event brings her back to OBX, she's forced to confront the one person she never truly forgot.

cw: fluff, mature themes | masterlist | 08 | 10 |

❀ ❀ ❀ - indication that the chapter takes place in the past!!

a/n: this chapter takes place before chapters 7,8, and 10.

❀ ❀ ❀

Rafe was never subtle when it came to you. His hands, his lips, the way his eyes lingered on you even in a crowded room—it was like he didn’t care who noticed, as long as you felt what he couldn’t always say.

It started with a lazy summer afternoon on his boat, anchored far from shore where no one could find you. The sun was dipping low, casting the world in hues of orange and pink, and the only sound was the soft lapping of waves and the occasional squawk of a distant seagull.

You sat across from him, legs tucked beneath you, the hem of your sundress swaying in the breeze. He was leaning back against the railing, a beer in his hand, watching you with a look that made your skin flush under his gaze.

“You keep staring at me like that, Cameron, and I’m gonna start charging you,” you teased, taking a sip from your water bottle.

He smirked, setting his beer down. “Oh, I’m more than willing to pay up.”

Before you could respond, he was moving, crossing the small space between you in just a few steps. His hands were on your waist, tugging you up and into him, and then his lips were on yours.

The kiss was anything but soft. His mouth moved against yours with a hunger that made your head spin, his hands gripping your hips like he couldn’t get close enough. You gasped against his lips, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that left you breathless.

“Rafe,” you managed to whisper when he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against yours.

“Hmm?” His voice was low, rough, as his hands slid up your sides, bunching your dress slightly.

“We’re supposed to be relaxing,” you teased, though your voice came out shakier than you intended.

“I am relaxed,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “This is me relaxed.”

“Liar,” you said, laughing softly, but the sound turned into a soft gasp as his lips found your neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin there.

“You’re the one who’s distracting me,” he muttered against your skin, his hands now sliding down to grip your thighs, pulling you even closer. “How am I supposed to think about anything else when you’re sitting there looking like that?”

Then there were the stolen moments—like when he cornered you in the Cameron kitchen one evening, the sound of the TV drifting from the living room where Ward and Rose were watching a movie.

“Rafe,” you hissed as he pressed you against the counter, his body crowding yours. “Your dad is right there.”

“Don’t care,” he muttered, his lips brushing against your ear. “I’ve been thinking about this all day.”

“Rafe—”

Whatever protest you were about to make disappeared as his mouth found yours, his hands sliding beneath your shirt to rest against your bare skin. His kiss was searing, making your knees go weak as you gripped his shoulders for balance.

“You’re insane,” you managed to gasp when he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against yours.

“Insane about you,” he said, grinning.

These were the moments that defined your time with Rafe—the heat, the passion, the way he made you feel like you were the center of his universe. In his arms, the rest of the world faded away, and for a little while, everything was perfect.

You were stretched out on the beach blanket, the sun warming your skin, when Rafe flopped down beside you, scattering sand everywhere.

“Do you mind?” you said, glaring at him through your sunglasses.

“Not at all,” he replied smugly, propping himself up on one elbow to look at you. His hair was a mess, salty and windswept, and he was grinning in that way that always made your heart skip a beat.

He reached over, plucking the sunglasses off your face. “You’re hiding those pretty eyes from me again, sunshine.”

“Maybe because I don’t want you staring at me all day,” you teased, trying to grab them back, but he held them out of reach.

“Too bad,” he said, leaning in closer. “Because I could look at you forever.”

“Rafe Cameron, you’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, his grin widening. “But I’m your ridiculous.”

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling too. He leaned in and kissed you—soft, slow, and sweet, the kind of kiss that made you forget the rest of the world existed.

The mornings were your favorite, though you’d never admit it to him. Especially the ones where he was already awake, sprawled out in bed beside you, his hair a mess and his face soft with sleep.

“Stop staring,” you mumbled, your voice thick with sleep as you buried your face in the pillow.

“Can’t help it,” he said, his voice still raspy. “You’re too cute when you’re drooling on the pillow.”

“I do not drool,” you shot back, glaring at him.

“Sure you don’t,” he teased, leaning over to press a kiss to your temple.

You swatted at him, but he just laughed, catching your hand and lacing his fingers with yours. “C’mon,” he said, his voice soft. “Let’s stay here all day.”

“And what, starve to death?”

“I’d die happy,” he said with a smirk, pulling you closer.

Even the quiet moments felt like magic with him. Like the time you were sprawled out on the couch together, your head resting on his chest as he absentmindedly played with your hair.

“You know you’re my favorite person, right?” he said suddenly, his voice soft.

“Obviously,” you teased, though your cheeks warmed at his words.

“I mean it,” he said, tilting your chin up so you were looking at him. “You’re everything to me.”

You didn’t know what to say, so you kissed him instead.

a/n: this takes place before any of the other angst bc i just wanted some fluff. also to @harrys-housewife i didn’t know how to reply directly to the tags on your reblogs. but thank you x1000 for always supporting my work, and leaving comments and feedback. i can’t even begin to explain how much it means to me 🥹

tags: @xoxo-ada @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @sleepiibunniiii @urbrunettebombshell @sideboobrry11 @marleymarleymarleymarley @acidfeens

[w1w2]

Toxic till the end

Minatozaki Sana x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ca. 10k

Synopsis: Is this a game or is this love? Y/N’s whirlwind romance with Sana blurs the lines between passion and control, forcing her to confront the cost of losing herself in the name of love.

Rosé - toxic till the end "His favourite game is chess, who would ever guess? Playing with the pieces in my chest"

Notes: I'm not super happy with this, BUT here you go.

English isn’t my first language so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

Rain streaked down in cold rivulets, blurring the city skyline into a wash of shimmering lights. Y/N stood motionless on the empty sidewalk, her hands trembling as she clutched a delicate necklace. The silver chain, hung heavy with memories, each link a reminder of the bond she was desperately trying to break.

Her mind played the greatest hits of their time together: Sana’s radiant smile the day they met, the sound of her laughter echoing in Y/N’s ears like a melody she could never unlearn, and the countless whispered promises that once felt unshakable. But those tender moments were only half the story.

Closing her eyes, Y/N could almost hear the sharp edge of Sana’s voice during their fights, the manipulative way she twisted words to pull Y/N back when she tried to leave. Her fingers tightened around the necklace as the memory of their final argument surfaced. The moment Y/N knew she had to choose herself or lose everything that made her who she was.

The rain grew heavier, soaking through her coat and chilling her to the bone, but she didn’t move. Instead, she stared at the necklace dangling between her fingers. A relic of a relationship that had started with warmth and laughter but ended in chaos and heartbreak.

Y/N’s lips parted, her breath fogging in the cold night air as she whispered to herself: “How did we get here?”

Her mind wandered back to the beginning, to a night when fate or perhaps sheer misfortune, brought them together. It had been an ordinary evening, one she hadn’t thought much about at the time, but now it loomed in her memory like the first domino in a line that would inevitably topple.

The sun was nearly gone, leaving streaks of burnt orange and purple smeared across the horizon as Y/N’s car sputtered to a pitiful halt. The dashboard lights blinked angrily, and with a groan, she pulled over to the shoulder of the road.

“Great,” Y/N muttered, stepping out into the brisk evening air. The road stretched endlessly in both directions, barren except for the glow of distant streetlights and the occasional hum of passing cars. She popped the hood, peering uselessly at the engine as a wave of frustration bubbled up.

Just as she considered calling for help, her attention was drawn to a figure further down the road. A woman stood next to a vintage bike, pacing and waving her arms in what looked like an animated argument with herself. Her leather jacket gleamed faintly in the fading light, and her glossy hair was pulled into a messy bun, strands falling in soft waves around her face.

Before Y/N could decide what to do, the woman turned, spotted her, and waved with both hands like she was trying to flag down a rescue helicopter.

“Hey!” the stranger called out, her voice carrying easily over the stillness. “You don’t happen to have a toolkit, do you? Because my bike’s officially given up on life.”

Y/N hesitated for only a moment before walking toward her, chuckling under her breath. “Depends,” she called back. “You know anything about cars? Mine just gave up too.”

The woman’s laughter rang out like a melody. “So it’s not just me! Misery loves company, I guess.”

Up close, she was even more striking. Bright, almond-shaped eyes twinkled with mischief, and her wide, radiant smile could have melted ice. She stuck out a hand, unapologetically smudged with grease. “Sana,” she said with a grin that was equal parts charming and disarming.

“Y/N,” she replied, shaking her hand.

“Y/N,” Sana repeated, like she was testing the weight of the name on her tongue. “Nice to meet you. Terrible circumstances, though. You wouldn’t happen to have a magic wand in that car of yours, would you?”

“Unfortunately, no wand,” Y/N said, smirking. “But I do have some basic tools and a knack for pretending I know what I’m doing.”

“Good enough,” Sana said with a wink. “Fake it ‘til you make it, right?”

For the next hour, they worked side by side, troubleshooting their respective problems. Sana’s bike chain was hopelessly jammed, and Y/N’s engine refused to even pretend it wanted to cooperate. Despite the mounting evidence that neither vehicle would be salvaged anytime soon, they found themselves laughing through the frustration.

“So,” Sana asked, leaning against her bike with a crooked grin, “what brings you out here in the middle of nowhere?”

Y/N shrugged, brushing her hands against her jeans. “Just bad luck, I guess. My car decided to call it quits at the worst possible time.”

“Classic,” Sana said. “My bike’s just as dramatic. I swear, it waits for the exact moment when I’m miles from anywhere to throw a tantrum.”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “Well, at least we’re stranded together. Misery’s better with company.”

Sana’s gaze lingered on her for a moment, her smile softening. “You know, you’re pretty good at this whole silver-lining thing. It’s kind of nice.”

“Thanks,” Y/N said, feeling a faint blush rise to her cheeks. There was something about Sana. Her energy, her presence, was magnetic.

As they packed up their tools and prepared to call for a tow, Sana tilted her head, studying Y/N with a teasing glint in her eyes. “You’re too nice for your own good, you know that?”

“What makes you say that?” Y/N asked, genuinely curious.

“Helping a complete stranger like me? That’s dangerous. Someone could take advantage of that.” Sana smirked, but there was something sharper, almost predatory, lurking beneath her playful tone.

Y/N chuckled nervously, brushing off the strange twist her words had taken. “Maybe, but I’d like to think the world needs a little more kindness.”

Sana’s smile widened, her teeth catching the dim light. “You keep that up, Y/N. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

It should have been a red flag, but instead, it felt oddly exciting. There was something about Sana’s intensity, her unpredictability, that drew Y/N in, like a moth to a flame.

As Y/N watched the tow truck pull away with her car, she stared down at her phone, where Sana’s name glowed on the screen. A part of her knew this chance meeting would change everything.

And it did.

It started with Sana’s camera. Their first official date turned into an impromptu photo shoot after Sana pulled a small vintage camera from her bag, insisting that Y/N pose in front of a mural they’d stumbled upon. Y/N had felt awkward at first, laughing nervously as Sana barked playful instructions and crouched to find the perfect angle. But when Sana showed her the first photo, a candid shot of Y/N mid-laugh, framed perfectly against the mural’s vibrant colors, something inside her shifted.

“You have a gift,” Y/N had said, genuinely impressed.

Sana grinned, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Only when I have the right muse.”

Soon, weekends turned into photography adventures. Sana led Y/N through the city like a woman on a mission, chasing golden-hour light and wandering into alleys where broken windows and graffiti became their backdrop. Sana had an uncanny ability to find beauty in the unexpected, framing the world through her lens in ways that made even the mundane feel extraordinary.

“Just hold that pose,” Sana said one evening, crouching low with her camera to frame the shot. Y/N stood at the edge of a rooftop, the city skyline glowing behind her, the lights shimmering like a sea of stars. “Perfect. Now tilt your chin up—yeah, like that.”

Y/N laughed, feeling a mix of awkwardness and exhilaration. “Do I get a say in this, or am I just your mannequin?”

Sana lowered the camera, a wicked grin spreading across her face. “You’re not just a mannequin. You’re my masterpiece.”

The words hit Y/N like a jolt, warmth rushing to her cheeks. No one had ever looked at her the way Sana did, as if she were the only person in the world. Being Sana’s muse was intoxicating, like stepping into a spotlight that never dimmed. It wasn’t just the photos. It was the way Sana made her feel seen, adored, and wanted in ways she hadn’t known she craved.

The city became their playground. Laughter echoed under neon lights as Sana adjusted Y/N’s pose in the middle of a bustling street. They stole kisses in quiet parks, Sana’s camera dangling around her neck, the click of the shutter capturing moments Y/N thought would last forever.

But the camera wasn’t just an instrument of art, it was also a tool of control.

One afternoon, as they sprawled on a blanket in the park, Y/N scrolled through her phone while Sana tinkered with her camera settings. A notification popped up on Y/N’s screen, a message from a coworker, and Sana leaned over without warning.

“Who’s that?” she asked, her tone casual but her expression anything but.

“A friend,” Y/N said lightly, locking her phone. “We’re working on a project together.”

Sana’s eyes flickered with something Y/N couldn’t place. “Funny, I thought we were spending today together. Didn’t realize you had someone else waiting for your attention.”

The words landed like a sharp jab. Y/N opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, Sana’s fingers brushed against her cheek, her voice softening. “Sorry. That came out wrong. I just… I don’t like sharing you.��

Y/N’s irritation melted under the weight of Sana’s gaze, and she found herself apologizing. “It’s nothing. I’m here with you, aren’t I?”

Still, a faint unease settled in Y/N’s chest, one she quickly brushed aside.

As the weeks went on, Sana’s possessiveness surfaced in subtler ways. Comments about Y/N’s schedule, questioning glances when Y/N mentioned spending time with friends. Over time, Y/N began canceling plans without even thinking about it, telling herself it was easier to avoid the tension.

“Work can wait,” Sana would say, pulling Y/N into her arms after another canceled meeting or skipped deadline. “You’re too important to me.”

And the truth was, Y/N loved it. She loved the way Sana’s attention enveloped her, the way it made her feel like she was all that mattered.

But there were moments Y/N couldn’t ignore, moments that lingered long after they ended. Like the evening at the diner.

The waiter had cracked a joke as he poured their coffee, something lighthearted and forgettable, but Y/N had laughed, really laughed, the kind that made her throw her head back. She didn’t notice the shift in Sana’s demeanor until the clink of her fork against the plate made her look up.

Sana’s expression was pleasant, her smile wide, but there was a tension in the set of her jaw that made Y/N’s stomach twist.

On the walk home, Sana was unusually quiet, her hand gripping Y/N’s just a little too tightly. “Do you think he was flirting with you?” she asked finally, her tone light but her words pointed.

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. “I don’t think so. I mean, it was just a joke.”

Sana stopped walking, turning to face her. “You didn’t have to laugh like that, though. It’s like you wanted him to think he had a chance.”

Y/N opened her mouth to protest but stopped, her words catching in her throat. The idea that Sana was jealous, it should have bothered her, but instead, it gave her a strange sense of satisfaction. She liked knowing that Sana cared enough to feel threatened, even if it meant enduring moments like this.

“You’re right,” Y/N said finally, squeezing Sana’s hand. “I’m sorry.”

Sana’s smile returned, wide and genuine, her voice softening. “I just don’t want to lose you.”

Y/N felt her chest tighten with something she couldn’t quite name. “You won’t,” she promised, even as a quiet voice in the back of her mind wondered if this was what love was supposed to feel like.

The whirlwind of their romance made everything else fade into the background. Y/N found herself skipping happy hours, turning down invitations, and canceling plans to spend more time with Sana. Her friends noticed the change before she did, but Y/N brushed it off, what was wrong with being in love?

Still, the cracks showed in quiet, undeniable ways. The first real fracture came one evening at a dinner she hadn’t expected Sana to attend.

Y/N leaned back in her chair, laughter bubbling up as Lia recounted a story about a disastrous first date. The restaurant buzzed with energy, warm lights reflecting off glasses of wine and scattered silverware. It had been too long since she’d had a night like this, just her and her friends, the way it used to be.

She’d almost forgotten how much she missed this, Lia’s quick wit, Nayeon’s playful teasing, and Jeongyeon’s dry, deadpan humor that always landed perfectly. The familiar rhythm of their banter wrapped around her like a comforting blanket, making her feel grounded in a way she hadn’t realized she needed.

The comfort shattered when she caught sight of a familiar figure standing at the entrance. Sana, dressed impeccably in a tailored coat and sleek boots, scanned the room with a look of calm confidence that set her apart from the bustling crowd.

Y/N blinked, startled. She hadn’t invited Sana, this was supposed to be a casual dinner with her friends, but there she was, striding toward their table as though she belonged there.

“Hey,” Sana said, leaning down to kiss Y/N on the cheek, her perfume subtly intoxicating. “Thought I’d surprise you.”

The table fell silent. Her friends exchanged glances, their conversation grinding to a halt as they absorbed the sudden intrusion.

“Uh, hi,” Y/N stammered, her confusion evident in her voice. “I didn’t think you’d be here.”

“I figured I’d stop by,” Sana said breezily, sliding into the empty chair beside Y/N. “I wanted to meet the people you’re always talking about.”

Y/N forced a smile, her mind racing. Sana had never expressed much interest in meeting her friends before, and she certainly hadn’t mentioned coming tonight.

As the group tried to recover, Nayeon took the lead, extending a polite hand across the table. “Hi, I’m Nayeon. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Sana said, shaking her hand briefly before retreating into a more closed posture. Her smile was polite but tight, her gaze flicking around the table as if assessing each person.

The conversation resumed in fits and starts, but the easy flow from earlier was gone. Sana offered clipped answers when asked about herself, her tone cool and detached. When Jeongyeon tried to include her in the group’s inside jokes, she only smiled faintly and took a sip of her wine.

The warmth and charm Y/N had fallen for were nowhere to be found.

“She’s just shy,” Y/N told herself, laughing nervously as the tension mounted. She caught Lia’s raised eyebrow from across the table and shot her a tight smile, silently pleading with her to drop it.

But the evening dragged on, the awkwardness thickening like fog. By the end of the night, Y/N’s cheeks ached from forcing a smile, and her friends’ goodbyes were unusually subdued.

Lia lingered as the others filed out, her brow furrowed with concern. “Y/N,” she said gently, pulling her aside. “Are you okay? Sana seemed… off.”

“She’s fine,” Y/N said quickly, her voice a little too sharp. “She’s just not good with new people.”

“I don’t know,” Lia said, her tone cautious but insistent. “She seemed dismissive. And honestly? A little controlling.”

Y/N felt a flare of defensiveness rise in her chest. “You don’t know her like I do,” she snapped, crossing her arms. “She’s amazing once you get to know her. You’re just being judgmental.”

Lia’s expression fell, her shoulders sagging in defeat. “I’m just trying to look out for you, Y/N.”

“I don’t need you to,” Y/N said, her voice quieter but no less firm.

Lia nodded, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Okay,” she said finally. “But if you ever need to talk, I’m here.”

Y/N watched her walk away, guilt twisting in her gut, but it was quickly swallowed by frustration. Her friends didn’t understand. They didn’t see the side of Sana that Y/N knew, the one who made her laugh until her stomach hurt, who held her in the quiet moments and made her feel like the center of the universe.

As Y/N walked to her car, she realized Sana hadn’t even said goodbye to the group before leaving. It was as if Sana had slipped out when no one was paying attention, leaving Y/N to smooth over the evening’s tension alone. The uneasiness lingered, but she told herself it wasn’t important. Sana loved her, that was all that mattered.

Later that night, Y/N stormed into Sana's apartment, her heart pounding with unresolved tension. She didn’t bother knocking, her key turned easily in the lock, a symbol of the trust they’d built and the boundaries Y/N had allowed to blur.

The place was dimly lit, bathed in the soft glow of a single floor lamp. The faint smell of lavender hung in the air, almost soothing if not for the storm raging in Y/N’s chest. She kicked off her shoes without care, the sound sharp against the quiet. In the corner, a chessboard sat on the coffee table, the pieces scattered as if abandoned mid-game.

Y/N gestured toward the board, her voice tight with frustration. “Is this what tonight was to you? Another game?”

Sana looked up from the couch, where she was curled with a book in her lap. Her expression was calm but guarded, her eyes narrowing slightly at Y/N’s tone. “What are you talking about?”

“You crashed my dinner, Sana.” Y/N’s voice cracked, her emotions bubbling to the surface. “And then you didn’t even try to get to know my friends, you left without saying goodbye. You were so cold.”

Sana sighed softly, closing the book and setting it on the armrest. “I wasn’t trying to ruin anything,” she said, her voice low and soothing, as though trying to defuse a bomb. She rose to her feet, her movements slow and deliberate. “I just… I wanted to be part of your world. I wanted to see the people you care about.”

Y/N hesitated, her anger faltering. “You could’ve told me,” she said, her voice quieter now. “You didn’t have to just show up.”

“I thought it would be a nice surprise,” Sana said, stepping closer. Her eyes softened, and she reached out, her fingers brushing against Y/N’s arm. “I didn’t mean to make things awkward. I just.. sometimes I feel like I don’t fit in your life. Like maybe you don’t really want me there, that's why I left.”

The words landed like a punch to Y/N’s gut. She opened her mouth to speak but found herself caught in the vulnerability of Sana’s expression, the slight tremble of her lips, the sheen of unshed tears in her eyes.

“That’s not true,” Y/N said quickly, the anger evaporating under the weight of Sana’s emotions. “You know I want you in my life.”

Sana’s gaze didn’t waver. “Then why does it feel that way?” she asked, her voice soft but heavy with meaning.

Y/N’s shoulders slumped. She wanted to argue, to stand her ground, but the words didn’t come. Instead, guilt settled into the cracks of her resolve. Was I being too harsh? Did I really make her feel like she didn’t belong?

“I’m sorry,” Y/N said quietly, the fight leaving her entirely. “I should’ve made you feel more comfortable.”

Sana’s smile returned, soft and reassuring, as she stepped closer. She leaned in, resting her forehead against Y/N’s, her voice a whisper. “Thank you. I just don’t want to lose you.”

Y/N closed her eyes, letting the tension seep out of her as Sana’s arms wrapped around her. The familiar warmth of her embrace made Y/N’s chest tighten in a way she couldn’t explain.

The argument about the dinner was smoothed over like so many others before it, with apologies and reassurances that felt genuine in the moment. Yet, something lingered. A quiet imbalance that Y/N couldn’t quite name but chose to ignore.

Sana had a way of making her forget, whether with her laugh, her touch, or the small, thoughtful gestures that reminded Y/N why she fell in love in the first place. But Sana also had a way of winning.

It became clearer one rainy afternoon when Sana pulled the chessboard into their world.

“Have you ever played chess?” Sana asked, setting the board between them on the coffee table. Rain pattered softly against the windows, a gentle rhythm that seemed to amplify the quiet intimacy of the room. The dim light from outside cast long shadows, blending the edges of the space into soft darkness.

“Not really,” Y/N admitted, sitting cross-legged on the floor and pulling a blanket over her lap. “I’ve always been more of a checkers person.”

Sana smirked, a flicker of amusement dancing in her eyes as she began lining up the pieces with precise, deliberate movements. Y/N couldn’t help but smile at the seriousness with which she approached even something as simple as setting up a game.

“That’s because checkers is easy,” Sana said, her voice tinged with playful condescension. “Chess, on the other hand… it’s a game of strategy, patience, and power.”

The way she said power sent a strange shiver down Y/N’s spine, though she quickly brushed it off, leaning forward to watch Sana finish setting up the board.

“This,” Sana said, holding up the queen between her fingers, “is the most important piece. She has the most power, the most freedom. She can move in any direction and dominate the board.”

Y/N tilted her head. “And the king?”

Sana rolled her eyes, her lips curving into a smirk. “The king is useless. He can only move one square at a time. Honestly, the whole game is about protecting him while the queen does all the work.”

Y/N laughed, her shoulders relaxing as she tucked the blanket tighter around her legs. “Sounds about right.”

Sana leaned forward, placing the queen carefully in the center of the board, her movements slow and deliberate. “But the real fun is here.” She picked up a pawn, holding it delicately between her fingers as if it were more significant than it appeared.

“Pawns?” Y/N asked, her brow furrowing.

Sana nodded, her smile sharpening. “Pawns are weak on their own, but they can be useful if you know how to play them. They’re the ones who set things in motion.” She twirled the piece between her fingers before placing it on the board with a soft click.

Then she looked directly at Y/N, her eyes gleaming with something unreadable. “Think of it like a relationship. Someone has to be the queen, and someone has to be the pawn.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her tone teasing despite the strange tension curling in her chest. “Let me guess, you’re the queen?”

“Obviously,” Sana said, her grin widening as she settled back into her seat.

Y/N shook her head, laughing lightly. But something about the way Sana said it, the confidence, the finality, lingered like a shadow in the corners of her mind.

They played for hours, Sana walking Y/N through each move with a mixture of patience and authority. “Good,” Sana said as Y/N moved her knight, her lips curving into a satisfied smile. “You’re learning.”

When Y/N managed to capture her first pawn, she felt a rush of triumph that brought an uncontrollable grin to her face. “Look at that! I got you!”

But the feeling faded quickly when Sana countered with an unexpected strike, sweeping her queen across the board to take two of Y/N’s pieces in a single, calculated move.

Y/N blinked, her mouth falling open in disbelief. “How did you do that?”

Sana leaned back, her satisfied smile returning as she crossed her arms. “It’s not just about winning,” she said, her tone measured but tinged with something darker. “It’s about making sure your opponent doesn’t even see the win coming.”

Y/N laughed, but the comment lingered in her mind longer than she expected.

Over time, the metaphor seeped into their lives in ways Y/N couldn’t ignore.

It started subtly. Sana’s phone buzzed one evening as they lounged on the couch, her head resting on Y/N’s shoulder. The vibration broke the soft quiet of the room, drawing Y/N’s attention. Sana shifted slightly, glancing at the screen with an unreadable expression before flipping the phone over and setting it face-down on the coffee table.

Y/N felt a pang of something, curiosity, jealousy, or maybe both. She told herself it was nothing, but the casual way Sana dismissed it gnawed at her.

“What was that?” Y/N asked lightly, keeping her tone breezy.

Sana shrugged, her voice calm. “Just a friend. It’s not important.”

The answer didn’t sit well, but Y/N forced a smile and let it drop. Still, the moment stayed with her.

In the days that followed, Y/N began noticing other things. The way Sana always seemed to know when she received a message, even when her phone was across the room. The way certain names that used to pop up in her contacts seemed to vanish without explanation. It was small, almost imperceptible, so easy to brush aside, but it left Y/N unsettled in a way she couldn’t shake.

One evening, while Sana was in the shower, Y/N sat cross-legged on the bed, scrolling through her messages. She was looking for an old thread from a college friend she hadn’t spoken to in a while, but it was gone. Confused, she searched for the contact, only to find it missing entirely.

Her heart raced as she checked her blocked contacts. Her stomach dropped when she saw the name. It wasn’t just them, there were others, too. Friends she’d lost touch with, people she’d only recently realized had stopped reaching out.

Her hands trembled as she stared at the screen. Her mind raced, replaying moments that suddenly felt suspicious in retrospect. The way Sana had always known when she’d been messaging someone. The way she’d casually dismissed certain friends as “distractions.”

“Sana,” Y/N called, her voice sharp as she tried to steady herself.

Moments later, Sana appeared in the doorway, a towel wrapped around her, her expression calm but wary. “What’s wrong?”

Y/N held up her phone, her grip tightening around it. “Did you block my contacts?”

Sana didn’t flinch. She didn’t even look surprised. Instead, she crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe. “I didn’t want them bothering you,” she said evenly. “You told me you don’t even talk to them anymore.”

“That’s not the point!” Y/N’s voice rose, her frustration spilling out. “You don’t get to decide who I talk to.”

Sana’s face softened, and she stepped forward, her voice low and soothing. “I wasn’t trying to control you,” she said, reaching out to place a hand on Y/N’s arm. “I just… I’ve seen the way they look at you, Y/N. I don’t want anyone trying to take you away from me.”

Y/N’s breath caught. The words were wrong, but the vulnerability in Sana’s tone made them feel almost right.

“You can’t just do that without telling me,” Y/N said, though her voice lacked the conviction it had a moment ago.

“I’m sorry,” Sana said, her hand sliding down to take Y/N’s. “I’ll unblock them if it bothers you. I just… I get scared sometimes. Scared of you leaving me.”

The fear in Sana’s voice disarmed Y/N, her anger melting into something softer, something she hated to admit was there.

“Okay,” Y/N said quietly, her shoulders slumping. “Just… don’t do it again.”

“I won’t,” Sana said, pulling Y/N into an embrace. Her touch was warm, her grip firm but comforting. “Thank you. I just love you so much.”

Sana pulled back slightly, her eyes searching Y/N’s face as if looking for reassurance. Then, before Y/N could say anything more, Sana leaned in, pressing her lips softly against hers. The kiss was tender, almost desperate, as if Sana were trying to seal her promise with the gesture.

Y/N let herself sink into the moment, the warmth of Sana’s touch and the softness of her lips momentarily eclipsing the unease still lingering in her chest.

Later that night, as Y/N lay in bed, the weight of the conversation pressed against her chest. She stared at the ceiling, replaying the way Sana had looked at her, the way she had seemed so genuine, so afraid.

She just loves me that much, Y/N told herself. Isn’t that what we all want?

But even as she drifted to sleep, a small voice in the back of her mind whispered, This doesn’t feel right.

But the control wasn’t one-sided.

Sana’s attention had become something Y/N craved, like a drug she couldn’t go without. It wasn’t just the grand gestures or whispered words of affection, it was the way Sana looked at her, as if Y/N were the only person in the world who mattered. But in the rare moments when that gaze faltered, when Sana’s attention drifted to something or someone else, Y/N felt a hollowness that she didn’t want to acknowledge.

One evening, the two of them lounged in the living room, a playlist of soft acoustic songs filling the air. Sana sat on the armchair across from Y/N, her legs tucked beneath her, scrolling through her phone with a faint smile playing on her lips.

Y/N, sprawled across the couch, tried to focus on the book in her hands, but her eyes kept drifting back to Sana. Her fingers hovered over her phone screen, the way her lips twitched with quiet amusement, and the glimmer of a name in the reflection of her glasses, it all stirred something uneasy in Y/N.

“Who are you talking to?” Y/N asked, her voice light and teasing. She tilted her head, feigning playful curiosity.

Sana glanced up, her smile faint but distant. “Just a friend.”

Y/N sat up, abandoning her book. She moved to the arm of the chair and leaned closer, resting her chin on Sana’s shoulder. The scent of Sana’s perfume, warm and familiar, wrapped around her like a tether.

“Maybe I should start calling my old friends, too,” Y/N said lightly, her tone carefully casual.

Sana’s fingers paused over the screen. The smile faded from her lips, replaced by something harder to read. “You don’t need them,” she said softly, but there was a firmness beneath her words that made Y/N’s chest tighten. “You have me.”

Y/N pulled back slightly, blinking. Sana looked up at her, her expression soft but resolute, as if the matter was already settled.

The comment stayed with Y/N long after the moment passed, lingering like the faint trace of perfume on her clothes. She told herself Sana was right, what did she need anyone else for? Still, the thought gnawed at her, leaving a small hollow space she couldn’t quite fill.

Later that week, Y/N found herself scrolling through her contacts, aimlessly flicking past names she hadn’t thought about in months. Her thumb hovered over one in particular, an old flame. They hadn’t spoken in years, but seeing the name felt like a thread tugging at some forgotten part of herself.

She hesitated. Memories of late-night conversations and stolen moments came rushing back, mingling with the weight of Sana’s words.

You don’t need them. You have me.

The thought settled over her like a blanket, heavy but reassuring. Without giving herself time to reconsider, she tapped the screen, blocking the number with a single decisive motion.

It’s only fair, she thought, her chest tightening. If Sana does it for me, why shouldn’t I do the same for her?

The logic felt sound, even comforting, but as she stared at the screen, a faint unease crept in. Y/N pushed it aside, telling herself that love was about compromise, about loyalty. Wasn’t it?

The days blurred into a cycle of quiet tension and fleeting moments of bliss. Y/N had learned to silence the voice in her head that questioned Sana’s behavior, telling herself that every couple had their struggles. And besides, when Sana was good, she was perfect, her laughter, her warmth, the way she made Y/N feel like the center of the universe.

But perfection came at a cost, one that Y/N wasn’t sure she could keep paying.

The breaking point came on a stormy evening when the truth they had been skirting around finally exploded.

Rain pounded against the windows as Y/N paced the living room, her fists clenching and unclenching at her sides. The dim light of the room flickered with each flash of lightning, shadows jumping across the walls like specters. The argument had started small, something about missed calls and unanswered texts, but had spiraled into something much bigger, something neither of them could control.

“You don’t trust me,” Y/N said, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and hurt. Her words cut through the rhythmic drumming of the rain, sharp and raw. “You never have.”

Sana stood near the window, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She looked unmovable, her silhouette stark against the storm outside. Her expression was unreadable, but her voice was ice. “That’s not fair, and you know it,” she said coldly. “I’ve given you everything, Y/N. Everything. And this is how you treat me?”

Y/N let out a bitter laugh, hollow and brittle. It startled even her, the sound foreign in her own ears. “You’ve given me everything? Or taken everything?”

The words hung in the air like smoke, suffocating them both. For a moment, the only sound was the relentless rain, a distant roll of thunder punctuating the silence.

Sana’s shoulders slumped, her arms falling to her sides. Y/N thought she might leave the room, leave the conversation unfinished like so many others. But instead, Sana turned. Her expression softened, the coldness melting into something heartbreakingly vulnerable. Tears glistened in her eyes, catching the light of the storm outside.

“I just…” Sana’s voice cracked as she stepped closer. “I’m scared, okay? Scared of losing you.” Her hands fidgeted at her sides, fingers twisting nervously. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I don’t know how to live without you.”

Y/N’s chest tightened, her anger faltering under the weight of Sana’s words. “Sana—”

“Please,” Sana interrupted, her voice breaking as she reached out to grab Y/N’s hands. Her touch was warm despite the chill of the room. “Don’t go. I’ll change. I’ll do whatever it takes. Just… don’t leave me.”

The rawness in Sana’s voice hit Y/N like a tidal wave, pulling at something deep and unspoken inside her. She wanted to hold on to her anger, to use it as a shield against the emotions threatening to drown her. But the sight of Sana, her tear-filled eyes, the trembling in her voice, made it impossible.

She closed her eyes, trying to shut out the conflicting emotions swirling in her chest. Her mind screamed at her to leave, to walk out the door and never look back. But another part, a darker, quieter part, thrived on the chaos.

The fights, the tears, the passionate makeups that followed, they made Y/N feel alive in a way she hadn’t before. There was something intoxicating about the intensity of it all, as if the turbulence was proof of how deeply they loved each other.

Toxic love is still love, she told herself, the thought echoing like a mantra in the storm.

When Y/N opened her eyes, Sana was staring at her, desperation etched into every line of her face. Y/N took a deep breath, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Relief washed over Sana’s face, her grip on Y/N’s hands tightening as if to anchor herself. “Thank you,” she said softly, pulling Y/N into an embrace. Her arms wrapped around Y/N like a lifeline, the storm outside forgotten in the stillness of the moment.

But Y/N wasn’t blameless.

The next morning, the tension lingered like a bruise, dull and aching but impossible to ignore. The kitchen was quiet except for the faint hum of the refrigerator and the soft clinking of Sana’s movements as she made coffee. She hovered near the counter, her back to Y/N, the usual ease of her gestures replaced with something more hesitant.

Y/N sat at the table, her phone resting on the surface, though her eyes weren’t really focused on the screen. She could feel the weight of Sana’s presence, her tentative glances, the way her shoulders seemed to sag just slightly under the strain of the unresolved fight.

When Sana finally crossed the room and reached out to touch Y/N’s shoulder, Y/N pulled away instinctively, pretending to focus on a non-existent notification. The withdrawal was small, almost imperceptible, but it was enough to make Sana pause.

“Are we okay?” Sana asked softly, her voice laced with hesitation.

Y/N didn’t answer right away, letting the silence stretch long enough to sting. The delay was deliberate, calculated. She wanted Sana to feel the same uncertainty she had felt the night before.

“I don’t know,” Y/N said finally, her tone distant and measured.

Sana’s shoulders tensed, her hand falling back to her side. Her expression flickered, uncertainty, worry, and something else Y/N couldn’t quite name. For a brief moment, Y/N felt a twisted sense of satisfaction, as if she’d regained some of the power she so often felt slipping through her fingers.

But the feeling was fleeting, dissolving into a hollow ache as Sana stepped away without another word.

By evening, Sana had transformed the tension into something else entirely.

When Y/N walked into the apartment after work, she was greeted by the warm glow of candlelight flickering on every surface. The scent of her favorite dish wafted through the air, mingling with the soft hum of music playing in the background.

Sana stood in the kitchen, a glass of wine in hand, her smile soft but deliberate. She looked radiant, every detail meticulously arranged, from the careful curl of her hair to the delicate necklace Y/N had once said she loved.

“I just want us to be happy,” Sana said, handing Y/N a glass of wine as she gestured toward the table. It was set with care, the plates gleaming under the candlelight.

Y/N hesitated, the unease from the morning still gnawing at the edges of her mind. She wanted to argue, to confront Sana about the growing cracks in their relationship, but the effort felt monumental.

Sana’s voice broke through her thoughts. “Wait, before we eat, there’s something I want to give you.”

Y/N blinked, confused as Sana set her glass down and walked over to a small drawer. From it, she pulled out a small box, the kind that usually held jewelry. Her heart skipped as Sana returned, opening it to reveal a delicate necklace with a small pendant that sparkled in the candlelight.

“I saw this and thought of you,” Sana said, her voice soft and warm. She stepped closer, taking the necklace out of the box. “Let me.”

Y/N hesitated, the unease still there, but Sana’s expectant smile made it hard to refuse. She turned slightly, letting Sana clasp the necklace around her neck.

“There,” Sana said, stepping back to admire her work. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

Y/N touched the pendant lightly, her chest tightening. “It’s beautiful,” she murmured, though the words felt hollow in her mouth.

“It’s for us,” Sana said, her tone carrying an undercurrent of something Y/N couldn’t quite place.

And just like that, Y/N allowed herself to be pulled back in, the warmth of the moment smoothing over the jagged edges of her doubt.

Later, as Y/N lay in bed, the wine’s warmth still lingering in her veins, her thoughts drifted to their first meeting.

She remembered the way Sana had waved her down, her confidence magnetic even from a distance. At the time, it had felt serendipitous, like fate stepping in to bring them together. But now, with the clarity of hindsight, the memory was tinged with something darker.

The bike had seemed pristine, too pristine for a breakdown. The way Sana had leaned against it, casually frustrated, as if she’d been waiting for something or someone.

The pieces began to fall into place with chilling clarity. The perfect timing. The deliberate way Sana had drawn her in, weaving a story of chance and misfortune. Y/N’s mind filled in the gaps, connecting the dots she hadn’t dared to before.

She planned it.

The realization hit Y/N like a punch to the gut.

She stared at the ceiling, her breath catching in her throat. Anger surged through her at first, a sharp, white-hot wave of betrayal. But as it ebbed, it left something else in its wake.

A strange sense of inevitability settled over her, heavy but almost comforting. It was just another piece in the game Sana had been playing all along. A game she had been playing since the beginning.

And maybe, just maybe, it was a game Y/N didn’t want to stop playing.

She closed her eyes, the faint sound of Sana’s breathing beside her filling the quiet.

Toxic love is still love, she thought again, the mantra weaving itself into her dreams.

The dreams came in flashes. Y/N saw Sana’s smile from their first meeting, bright and full of promise. Then, the smile faded, replaced by the image of the chessboard, pieces scattered and mismatched. Somewhere in the haze, Y/N heard the mechanic’s voice, distant but clear “Looks like someone tampered with it.”

When she woke up, the early morning light spilling through the blinds. Her chest felt heavy, her mind tangled in memories and doubt. Y/N rubbed her temples, but the unease wouldn’t go away. She needed clarity, but instead, she found herself spiraling deeper into questions she didn’t want to answer.

But the answers came faster than she expected.

The fights came more frequently now, their once-perfect moments overshadowed by tension and unspoken resentment. It was during one of those fights, louder and crueler than any before, that Y/N finally walked out, slamming the door behind her and leaving Sana’s pleading voice echoing in her ears.

The dark clouds hung low, the occasional rumble of distant thunder reminding her that the storm hadn’t entirely passed. She gripped the steering wheel tightly, her knuckles white, as her breath came in short bursts.

The argument replayed in her mind, vivid and unrelenting.

“I can’t do this anymore,” she had said, her voice trembling but carrying a firmness that surprised even herself.

Sana’s eyes had widened, tears glistening like glass. “You don’t mean that,” she’d replied, her voice breaking on the words. “You love me.”

Y/N had hesitated, the pull in her chest begging her to reconsider, but the weight of the tension between them pressed her forward. Without another word, she had turned and walked out, the sound of the door slamming behind her cutting through the quiet like a gunshot.

Now, sitting in the driver’s seat, Y/N tried to steady her breathing. The streets were nearly deserted, the dark asphalt glistening from the rain, reflecting faint halos of streetlights. She pulled out of the parking lot, her fingers gripping the wheel as if it were the only thing tethering her to reality.

The car’s engine hummed steadily at first, but as she drove down the dark, empty road, it sputtered and jerked. A guttural sound followed, like the car itself was protesting her escape. Then, with a final wheeze, the engine died completely.

“No, no, no,” Y/N muttered under her breath, guiding the car to the side of the road. She turned the key in the ignition, hoping against hope, but the car refused to respond.

She slammed her hands against the wheel, the familiar sense of frustration and helplessness bubbling up. The adrenaline from the fight hadn’t fully faded, and now it mixed with the sharp sting of being stranded.

Stepping out into the damp night air, Y/N shivered as her shoes sank slightly into the wet gravel. The air smelled of rain and earth, heavy and oppressive. She popped the hood, staring at the mess of wires and metal with a sinking feeling.

“This might as well be hieroglyphics,” she muttered, rubbing her arms against the chill.

Resigned, she pulled out her phone and called for a tow truck. The wait felt eternal, the silence inside the car pressing down on her. The only sounds were the occasional car passing in the distance and the soft tick of her hazard lights. Y/N leaned her head back against the seat, the exhaustion from the day threatening to pull her under.

The next day, Y/N sat on the edge of her bed, her phone pressed to her ear as the mechanic’s voice crackled through the line.

“Well, the good news is, it’s an easy fix,” he said, his tone light. “But it’s strange.. looks like someone deliberately tampered with your fuel line. Did you leave it parked somewhere sketchy?”

Y/N froze, her stomach flipping. “No,” she said slowly, her voice tight. “I… I don’t think so.”

“Hmm,” the mechanic said thoughtfully. “Well, whoever did it didn’t want to completely ruin your car. Just enough to strand you, I’d guess.”

The call ended, but the words echoed in her mind, gnawing at the edges of her thoughts.

Whoever did it…

Her hands trembled as she set her phone down, her mind racing through the possibilities. Flashes of memory rose unbidden, moments that had seemed inconsequential at the time but now took on a sinister edge.

Sana’s insistence on “checking” the car before Y/N went on long drives. The way she had offered to take it for errands, always with a breezy smile and a casual “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.”

It all lined up now in a way that made Y/N’s stomach twist painfully.

She wouldn’t, Y/N told herself, clinging to the thought like a lifeline. But deep down, in the quietest parts of her mind, she knew the truth.

Y/N confronted Sana that evening.

The apartment felt colder than usual, the dim light from the single floor lamp casting sharp shadows across the walls. The faint scent of lavender hung in the air, but it did nothing to soothe the tension coiling in Y/N’s chest. The chessboard sat in its usual place, the queen perfectly upright while the pawns lay scattered, toppled like casualties of a battle they hadn’t agreed to fight.

Sana sat on the couch, a book open in her lap, her posture relaxed in a way that felt almost mocking. She looked up when Y/N entered, her expression calm but curious.

“Did you do it?” Y/N’s voice was sharp, cutting through the quiet like a blade.

Sana tilted her head, her brow furrowing slightly. “Do what?”

Y/N stepped closer, her hands trembling at her sides. The anger simmering beneath her skin made her movements stiff, deliberate. “My car,” she said, her voice louder now, more forceful. “The fuel line. Did you tamper with it?”

For a moment, Sana’s face was blank, unreadable. The silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating. Then, slowly, she sighed, closing her book with deliberate care and setting it on the armrest. “You weren’t supposed to find out,” she said softly, her voice carrying an edge of regret.

Y/N’s heart sank, her breath catching in her throat. The confirmation felt like a physical blow, knocking the air out of her lungs. “Why?” she whispered, the single word laced with disbelief.

Sana stood, her movements measured, as if trying not to startle Y/N. She stepped closer, her voice cracking as she spoke. “Because I needed you to stay. You were leaving, Y/N. You were going to walk away from us, from everything we’ve built. I couldn’t let that happen.”

“That’s not love, Sana!” Y/N’s voice rose, shaking with anger and disbelief. Her hands balled into fists, her whole body trembling with the effort to keep herself together. “That’s manipulation. That’s control.”

“Everything I did was because I love you,” Sana said, tears spilling over as her voice broke. “You’re my everything. I didn’t know what else to do.”

Y/N shook her head, taking a step back as if putting physical distance between them could lessen the weight of Sana’s words. Her hands clutched the edge of the couch for support, her knuckles turning white.

“You can’t sabotage my life and call it love,” Y/N said, her voice dropping, quieter but no less firm. The exhaustion in her tone made Sana flinch.

“I’m sorry,” Sana whispered, her own tears falling freely now. She reached out, her hands trembling. “I just… I couldn’t lose you. Please don’t leave.”

For a moment, Y/N stood frozen, staring at the woman she had once thought she couldn’t live without. The desperation in Sana’s voice pulled at something deep inside her, something that still wanted to believe in the version of Sana who had once made her feel whole. But now, that version felt like a lie.

Even as the words hung in the air, Y/N could feel the pull. It was the same as it had always been, when she’d said it was over, Sana hadn’t heard her. Not really. All Sana had heard was, “Baby, can you pull me in closer?” And every time before, Y/N had let her.

But this time was different. It had to be.

Later that night, Y/N sat alone in the apartment. The only light came from the faint glow of the streetlamp outside, casting uneven shadows across the room.

Her thoughts were a chaotic tangle of anger, guilt, and exhaustion, each emotion crashing over her like relentless waves.

She wasn’t innocent in this, she realized. She had ignored her instincts, fed into Sana’s need for control because it made her feel wanted, needed. She had convinced herself that the intensity of their love, the highs that left her breathless and the lows that shattered her, was proof of something real, something worth fighting for.

She thought back to every moment she had brushed aside the red flags, every time she had excused Sana’s behavior with the same tired reasoning: She just loves me so much. But now, those excuses felt hollow, stripped of the power they once held.

This wasn’t love. This was a game Sana had been playing all along. And worse, it was a game Y/N had willingly joined, feeding into the chaos, finding her own twisted satisfaction in the drama and the thrill.

The apartment was silent except for the faint ticking of the clock on the wall, each second stretching endlessly before her.

Y/N leaned back against the couch, her head resting on the edge as she stared at the ceiling. “How did it get this bad?” she whispered to no one.

The only answer was the quiet hum of the city outside, a distant rhythm that seemed to echo the chaos in her heart. Y/N sat in the stillness, her gaze drifting back to the chessboard. The queen stood tall, unshaken, but the sight of it no longer felt like a challenge it felt like a cage.

The pieces weren’t scattered by chance, they were placed, deliberate and calculated. Y/N realized that as long as she stayed, the game would never end. She would keep losing herself, piece by piece, until there was nothing left to give.

Her chest tightened as the weight of her decision settled over her. It wasn’t easy, but it was necessary. Slowly, she rose from the couch, her movements hesitant at first but gaining strength with every step. She didn’t need all the answers yet. She just needed to take the first one. She had to leave.

In the days that followed, Y/N prepared quietly, methodically. She found a new apartment on the other side of town, small, simple, but hers. She made sure the lease was signed and the keys were in her hand before she packed her things. Every step of the process felt surreal, like she was watching someone else’s life unfold.

She packed in secret, careful not to draw Sana’s attention. It wasn’t just about leaving, it was about ensuring Sana couldn’t find her. The thought made Y/N’s chest ache with guilt, but she pushed it aside. She owed herself this clean break.

When the day came, Y/N returned to the apartment one last time to collect the rest of her things.

The apartment was eerily quiet as Y/N stood by the door, her suitcase by her side. The weight of her decision hung heavy in the air, every breath she took feeling like a step into uncharted territory. Sana stood a few feet away, her eyes red and swollen, her hands clenched tightly together as if she were physically holding herself back from reaching out.

“Please, Y/N,” Sana’s voice broke, thick with tears. “Don’t do this. I can change. I will change. Just… Please don’t leave me.”

Y/N’s throat tightened, the pain in Sana’s voice cutting deeper than she wanted to admit. For a moment, she hesitated, her hand hovering over the door handle. Memories flashed through her mind, Sana’s laughter, the way her eyes sparkled during their late-night conversations, the way she had once made Y/N feel like the center of the universe.

But then came the other memories: the fights, the manipulation, the moments of doubt and helplessness that had slowly eroded the foundation of their relationship.

Y/N closed her eyes, taking a deep, steadying breath. “I can’t do this anymore, Sana,” she said, her voice trembling but resolute. “I’ve given you everything I had, and it still wasn’t enough. I can’t keep losing myself like this.”

Sana took a step forward, her hands outstretched. “You’re not losing yourself, you’re finding yourself with me. We can fix this, Y/N. Together.”

Y/N turned to face her, the sadness in Sana’s expression pulling at her heart. “I’ve been trying to fix this for months,” she said softly. “But the truth is, we’ve been breaking each other. I need to let go, Sana. I need to let myself heal.”

Tears streamed down Sana’s face as she whispered, “I love you.”

Y/N nodded, her own tears threatening to fall. “I know. But love isn’t supposed to hurt like this.”

She turned the handle and stepped out, closing the door behind her before the pull to stay became too strong.

Outside, the crisp evening air hit her like a wave, clearing the fog in her mind. Her suitcase rolled unevenly over the cracks in the pavement as she walked away, each step feeling heavier than the last.

When she reached the end of the block, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She stopped, her hands trembling slightly as she pulled it out.

The message was from Sana.

I know I’ve hurt you, but I can be better. Please give me one more chance. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work.

Y/N stared at the screen, her heart pounding in her chest. The words were everything she had wanted to hear for so long, everything she had hoped for during the countless nights she had spent doubting herself.

Her thumb hovered over the keyboard, the urge to reply clawing at her. She could feel the pull, the desire to relive the highs of their relationship, to chase the fleeting moments of joy that had once made her believe in them.

But the pain wasn’t worth the promise of temporary happiness anymore. She couldn’t go back, not to Sana, and not to the version of herself who had allowed the cycle to continue.

Y/N took a deep breath, steadying herself. She didn’t reply.

Hours later, the city pulled her outside. She didn’t know where she was going, only that she couldn’t stay within the confines of her new apartment, where the silence pressed down like a weight. She wandered aimlessly through the streets, her steps heavy, her mind a storm of memories she couldn’t stop replaying.

Somehow, her fingers found the necklace, tugging it free from her pocket. The cool metal was damp from her grip, the pendant swinging lightly as she walked. It felt heavier than it should, laden with the promises Sana had made, the ones Y/N had once believed.

The rain had started softly, almost unnoticed, but now it poured, streaking down in cold rivulets that blurred the city skyline into a wash of shimmering lights. Y/N stood frozen on the empty sidewalk, her hands trembling as she clutched the delicate necklace. The memories played on repeat, an unrelenting loop of love and chaos.

A sharp honk jolted her back to the present. She blinked, startled, realizing she had wandered into the edge of the street. A car sped past, the splash of water snapping her fully out of her thoughts.

She turned, her breath visible in the cold air as she glanced back at the skyline one last time. The city lights shimmered like the tears that threatened to spill over, but she swallowed hard, forcing herself to move.

At her apartment, Y/N stood in the quiet of her small kitchen, the necklace Sana had given her dangling from her hand. She turned it over, the delicate chain catching the light, its small pendant glinting like a final remnant of the life she was leaving behind.

For a moment, she considered keeping it, just as a memory, a token of what they’d shared. But even as she thought it, she knew it would be a weight she couldn’t carry.

With deliberate care, Y/N let the necklace fall into the trash. The sound it made as it hit the bottom was soft, almost imperceptible, but it felt like a thunderclap in her chest.

She stood there for a moment, staring into the trash as if expecting the necklace to call her back. When it didn’t, she closed the lid, the act feeling both final and liberating.

As she walked to the window, the city lights stretched out before her, vibrant and full of possibility. For the first time in what felt like years, Y/N felt a glimmer of hope, not for the love she had lost, but for the love she was beginning to find within herself.

The days that followed were slow and quiet, but Y/N welcomed the stillness. She filled the emptiness with small steps forward: rearranging her new apartment, picking up books she hadn’t read in years, and beginning to journal the thoughts that had weighed her down for so long.

Over time, the heaviness started to lift.

Months had passed since Y/N left, and the weight that had once pressed on her chest now felt lighter, manageable. She sat in the sunlit corner of her new apartment, a cup of tea in one hand and her journal in the other. The space was small but bright, with clean lines and open shelves, a far cry from the dimly lit apartment she had shared with Sana.

She set down her tea and picked up her pen, the journal’s pages already filled with reflections, questions, and truths she hadn’t been ready to face before. Therapy had helped her unpack the layers of their relationship, the highs that had made her stay, the lows that had broken her, and the role she had played in perpetuating it all.

“I was just as addicted to the chaos as she was,” Y/N wrote, her pen moving steadily across the page. “But now, I know better.”

The memories still surfaced sometimes, unbidden and sharp. She could still hear Sana’s voice in her head, the promises, the pleas. The lyrics from a song she’d heard recently echoed in her mind:

“You were plotting how to stay in my head, We were toxic till the end.”

Y/N set her pen down, closing her eyes. It was true, Sana had stayed in her head long after she’d left, but the hold was loosening.

Her gaze shifted to the canvas, the blankness of it inviting rather than intimidating. It was a stark contrast to the chessboard she had left behind, the rigid lines, the scattered pawns, the queen standing tall. The canvas didn’t ask her to play a role. It simply waited for her to decide what to create.

She picked up her journal again, flipping back to a page she had written weeks ago. She had reflected on the lessons she’d learned, the things she could forgive, and the things she couldn’t.

“I can forgive you for a lot of things,” she had written, quoting the song that had felt like a lifeline in her darkest moments. “For not giving me back my Tiffany rings. I’ll never forgive you for one thing, my dear. You wasted my prettiest years.”

But now, sitting in the soft glow of her new life, Y/N felt a shift. The bitterness wasn’t as sharp as it had been.

She turned to a fresh page and wrote.

“She wasted my prettiest years, but I taught myself how to cherish the rest of them.”

The words felt like closure, final and freeing.

As the sunlight poured in, Y/N set her journal aside and walked to the canvas. She picked up a brush, the blank space before her a promise of what could be.

For the first time in years, Y/N felt like she wasn’t playing a game or following someone else’s rules. She was creating something entirely her own.

[letternotekisses]

GAHHHHH THE LAST REAPER ONE HAD MY EYES PISSING FOR SOME REASON!? Love the nsfw slowburn and angst from that one. Can I kindly request for more?c:

Also cuz I don’t think I have seen that before on your blog could we get maybe a Bw!Gabe version with miss sunshine assistant this time?c: If u dont do the older timelines i would be also happy with grumpy reaps<3 love ur writing style btw u write all of the man so well wtf I’m addicted 😭

(18+mdni) anon u cutie<3 im hungover and gave my hand a try at bw reyes for the 1st time so im so sorry if its bad!

Reyes figured you were a plant, at first.

A little spy sent from Jack to gather up parts of intel that the golden boy of Overwatch could stick his nose into, to publicise the parts Reyes would rather stay hidden. And it was just like Morrison to send him someone so sweet and unassuming under the pretence of 'extra help', someone who'd bring him coffee with no complaints and organise his files with a smile. Someone to take some of that weight from his shoulders. It took a long time for Gabriel to even look in your direction at first, and even longer for him to start giving you any tasks.

(Although, that was partly your own doing. You'd stormed into his office one day when you were assured that he had no more meetings, jabbing a finger into the solid wall that was chest as you heatedly told him off over his flippant treatment towards you. Where Gabe then realised you were in fact not a honeypot, and rather just a very passionate young woman who wants to do her job. He let you chastise him until you were panting softly, where he then calmly asked you to make him a coffee, which had you thanking him in a tone almost too aggressive to be anything other than exasperatedly pleased. It was a slow start, but a start nonetheless.)

As much as he hated it, Gabriel soon came to rely on you for things. You knew every aspect of his schedule, knew how dark he took his coffee and even knew how to handle Genji and Cassidy when they started another stupid bet that had the vein in his forehead ready to burst. Gabe had become sickeningly attached to your presence at his side, clipboard in hand and an excited lilt in your voice for the day ahead. So bright eyed and bushy tailed it made him run hot with want and sick with guilt because he feared that Blackwatch would ruin you, and yet, he didn't want you to go.

And the threat of Jack plucking you back up and off to Overwatch still looms over him thickly like a storm cloud, has him drawn tight and stiff with uncharacteristic stress because he knows its something Jack can hold over his head, something he'd beg for like a dog, too.

You're too good for him and Reyes knows it. Too soft, sweet and kind compared to someone like him who runs with fire in his blood and stress hard wired in, and yet you're always there to pick up the pieces in a way that's well past professional. Letting him fuck your throat and use your mouth in in one of the many storage closets littering the hallways, in a slow stretch that makes pretty tears glitter in your eyes and has him whispering through grit teeth about how much of a good girl you are for helping him melt away some of that stress. Has him holding your hair back in a firm and tender grasp, thumbing your forehead like you were lovers.

In which, a part of him would like to be. He'd like to bring you back to his bed and tell you between breathy whispers that he loves you. To promise a ring around your finger between each slow thrust that has you gasping into his tan skin, scratching at his weathered back and whimpering his name. You're his in every way but that and it eats him from the inside out, tears his heart out his chest and eats it right in front of him because Gabriel knows he can't tether you to a man like him.

A man that isn't quite so human, something's hollow and missing and he plugs it with anger so white-hot that it fries him up inside. Time is running out and you know you're in danger by his side but you do it anyway. Gabriel knows that losing you means the world will have to burn and it makes something dark and smoky billow in his chest.

And after the Venice incident, he starts to feel that heat creep up behind him.

[aishangotome]

[Clavis] A Love Tailored To You Part 1

Credit to @shatcey for providing the video upload.

Late at night, even in the bustling Kingdom of Lulush, silence fell––

Clavis and I, having just made love, lay facing each other in bed, cooling our flushed bodies in the moonlight streaming through the window.

Emma: Hmm... Clavis, where are you touching?

His long fingers trailed along my thighs, still damp with sweat.

Clavis: Your leg?

Emma: That's not my "leg?"

Before I knew it, his fingers had crept up to the border between my thighs and buttocks, and I swatted his "bad" hand away.

Clavis: A moment ago you showed me such a shy— no, such a lovely sight, and now you're being cold to me.

His hand left my backside, but instead, Clavis snuggled closer, as if seeking affection.

(Oh...)

Our skin, still warm with passion, touched, and a deep ache throbbed within my lower abdomen.

(My body is at its limit, but somewhere in my heart, I want to be loved by Clavis a little more.)

(Lately, the more I'm loved, the more I want... When did I become so greedy?)

Clavis: ..............

Emma: ...? Is something the matter?

Clavis: I was debating whether to tell you this or not... but I shouldn't keep secrets from my beloved fiancée.

Clavis: I think I'll confess honestly.

Clavis squeezed my hand as if making up his mind.

Clavis: ... Actually, there's something I've been worrying about. Will you listen?

(It's rare to see him with such a serious expression. Could it be a really serious problem...?)

Emma: Of course. Please tell me. I'll do anything I can to help.

Clavis: You're truly kind.

Clavis: Well, um... It's hard to say, but...

(I wonder what it is...)

Clavis: I'm having trouble developing a new product for the Lelouch Trap series.

Emma: That's terrible... Huh?

Clavis: Hm?

Emma: Traps, you say?

Clavis: Yes, and?

(...I was worried for nothing...)

Clavis: Haha, don't make such an obviously disappointed face.

Clavis: Besides, it's a more serious problem than you think. For both me and you.

Emma: Come to think of it, something like this happened before...

Emma: Clavis, you were in a slump, and then..., uh...

As I somehow managed to pull out the sunken memory from the depths of my mind, the throbbing in my lower abdomen intensified for some reason.

Clavis: That look on your face... It seems you haven't quite remembered it yet?

Clavis: It's no wonder. You were in a terrible state back then.

Emma: Wasn't it Clavis who was in a terrible state? You were agonizing over it for so long...

(Huh? Was that really all?)

Clavis: Ah, that was a painful experience for me too. After all, I made my beloved Emma furious.

Emma: I wasn't furious, and I wasn't angry about the slump.

Clavis: But it's true that you were displeased.

Emma: Displeased, or rather, a little frustrated, I guess...

Clavis: It's the same thing in that I took the smile away from my beloved fiancée's face.

Clavis: How did I get over the slump back then?

Emma: Um, let me see...

*flashback*

It was shortly after the Kingdom of Lelouch was founded, and the "lovey-dovey sweet life" that Clavis had spoken of began––

(...No doubt about it.)

I had a small errand to run, so I went to the room used as a storeroom. With my hand on the doorknob, I stood motionless, staring at the door.

(It's just a hunch... but I feel like it's been "set.")

(This room isn't that big, and the ceiling is high, making it difficult to set something up above.)

(So, if anything's coming, it'll probably be from the front. In that case...)

I made up my mind and flung the door open with force.

Emma: ...Gah!

The instant I opened the door, I quickly dodged to the side, and a gray object whizzed past my face with tremendous force.

(That was a clay doll cushion...!)

The cushion, which had slammed into the wall behind me, swelled up from the impact, growing to the size of a person, then burst, scattering ribbons and confetti.

Emma: That was close...

I breathed a sigh of relief and stepped into the storeroom, but––

Emma: Eek!

The ribbons that had scattered from the explosion tangled around my feet, and I fell forward.

A second clay doll cushion shot out from somewhere, gently catching me.

(I've been had...)

As I struggled to untie the ribbons from my feet, I heard footsteps approaching.

Clavis appeared, clapping his hands in satisfaction at the sight of me sprawled on the floor at the entrance to the room.

Clavis: I'm surprised. I didn't expect you to dodge the first one.

Emma: Wasn't the second one meant to anticipate that!?

Clavis: No, the second one was meant to further amuse you as you entered the room, pouting...

Clavis: Hmm, you've become quite the trap master yourself, haven't you?

Emma: Hehe, fallen in love with me all over again?

Clavis: Yes. Just how far do you intend to make me indulge you?

(Since we started living together, I feel like I've gotten more and more used to Clavis's traps.)

(Does that mean I've become better at reading what Clavis is thinking than before?)

(It makes me a little happy to have grown as an accomplice.)

I unconsciously covered my loosened lips with my hand.

Clavis looked at me with a solemn expression as I lay there grinning on the clay doll cushion.

Emma: Clavis?

Clavis: No... don't worry about it.

Clavis: I'll always give you pleasure. You can look forward to it.

-

Several days later––

Emma: Whoa, the crackling bubbles are overflowing from the bathroom all the way out here...

Emma: It's a good thing I was suspicious and threw the linen in from outside...

-

Emma: How on earth did the table and chairs rotate along with the carpet?

Emma: If I had stayed seated, I might have been in trouble.

-

Emma: That was close; if I had been a little slower to react, I would have been hanging upside down.

Emma: I wonder how he prepared this mirror that reflects upside down. I couldn't help but stare.

-

Emma: ...Alright!

The moment I opened the window, I swiftly dodged the sticky substance that flew in from outside.

(I haven't fallen for a single trap these past few days!)

(I've truly become a Trap Master... no, perhaps a Clavis Master?)

With a feeling of pure joy and a slight sense of superiority, I smiled at Clavis, who was beside me.

Clavis: ...........

Clavis put his hand to his mouth, pondering for a moment, and––

Clavis: I'm sorry, but I'll stop setting traps for you for a while.

Emma: Eh?

(Just when I was getting the hang of overcoming the traps.)

Clavis: It pains me to do this, but it's for your own good. Forgive me.

(Well, I guess it's a good thing that the townspeople won't be troubled by the traps anymore... right?)

Even as I answered, I felt an indescribable frustration in my chest.

-

Emma: ––So that's what happened.

The next day, I told Cyril, whom I met in the hallway, how Clavis had stopped setting traps.

Cyril: You've finally been freed, congratulations!

Cyril: Let's have a lavish meal tonight. No, let's have a party!

Emma: A party would be a bit much, Clavis would feel sad.

(And, it's true that things will be peaceful, but I also feel a little lonely...)

Just then, a whistling sound came from somewhere.

Emma: Huh?

Cyril: Huh?

.

.

.

.

Part 2

If you’d like to support my translations, feel free to buy me a coffee here! :)

[evans23]

RICKMAS 2024 - DAY 22 - SHIVERING CERTAINTY [E2]

Pairing : Colonel Brandon x OC (Marie)

Summary : And if, finally, love could blossoms in the most unusual way ? And if, finally, Christopher didn’t really sacrifice himself ? And if, finally, both of them get exactly what they deserve ?

Tag(s)/Warning(s) : Sadness. Loneliness. Abandon. Rumours. Harsh mother. Unwanted pregnancy.

WRONGFUL PERCEPTION : Part I

Also read on AO3 - Wattpad

At breakfast, Marie stared at her plate without much appetite. Brandon watched her furtively. Her round belly left no doubt: in a few months, they would be parents.

"Marie, is everything okay ?" Christopher asked, worried.

"I... I don't really know," she said without looking up.

"Are you scared ?"

"A little bit," she said, gripping her spoon a little tighter.

He reached out a cautious hand to place it on hers. She looked up at his big green eyes and found only tenderness.

"What if I'm not ready for it ?"

"You won't be alone. I'll be there. And we'll hire a governess," he tried to reassure her.

"But I don't want my baby to be raised by servants," she said softly, "I... I want to be a good mother," she confessed, looking down again.

"And you will be," Christopher affirmed, squeezing her hand a little tighter.

Marie gave him a small smile. She still wasn't entirely convinced that everything would be okay, but Christopher had this gift of making her feel calmer, safer. She still felt bad about imposing an illegitimate child on the Colonel, but he seemed sincerely invested. He never made her feel like a burden and if at first she had regretted their union, she accepted it more and more now.

Maybe, yes maybe if she gave him a chance, she could have a good life and even know love, the real one, the one that is born of deep feeling and not of a fleeting passion.

After breakfast, Marie went to get a shawl to go for a walk in the gardens. Christopher, who was busy in his greenhouse preparing the soil for the future roses that would bloom again in the spring, saw her pass by and decided to follow her discreetly.

As she arrived near an old oak tree, she stopped for a moment, her hand placed on her belly.

"Marie, is everything okay ?" Christopher asked as he approached slowly.

She turned around, a big smile on her lips. Without a word, she approached him and, to the Colonel's great surprise, she took his hand to place it on her belly.

Christopher's eyes widened when he felt small knocks against his hand. The baby was moving.

"Hello, little one," he whispered with emotion.

"Do you think it will be a little boy or a little girl ?" Marie asked as she placed her hand against Christopher's which was still resting on her round belly.

"It doesn't matter. It'll be a darling child," Christopher replied, fascinated by the movements he still felt under her large, firm hand.

Marie closed her eyes, a strong emotion pressing on her heart. She was torn, torn between what she had done, between what she was imposing on Christopher, and the feelings she had for him and the future that could be bright, if only she would agree to let him love her and her baby.

"Do you want to know ?" she asked suddenly.

"Know what ?" Christopher asked surprised.

"What happened. Who is the father."

"No, it's your story, it belongs to you."

"But I want to tell you," Marie whispered.

A gust of wind came to sweep the leaves all around, lifting Marie's dress slightly and revealing her ankles that were not covered by her woollen stockings. They were so swollen that she could no longer tolerate any fabric on her sensitive skin. That little glimpse of skin troubled Christopher more than he would have thought. He remembered his brother once telling him about one of his one-night stands when he was not yet engaged to Eliza that a woman's ankles were the most wonderful thing and Christopher, who had laughed at the time, was beginning to believe him.

"Let's go inside and take shelter. This wind could make you sick and now is not the time with the baby on the way," he said, holding out his arm to her.

She followed him into the living room where they sat down by the fire. A maid came to bring them tea and biscuits.

"At the end of February, I went to London, I..."

"Marie, you don't owe me an explanation. I already know that you met a man, that he cheated on you and left you," Christopher interrupted, "I don't need to know more."

"But I feel like I have to tell you everything," Marie said, struggling to hold back her tears.

"You don't owe me anything, Marie. I know what there is to know, I also know that you are strong and you are not alone. You are not anymore. I am here."

"I am sorry that I didn't love you right away, Christopher," she said in a breath, "I agreed to marry you for my father, to spare him after what I did to him, to spare him the shame of having a slut for a daughter."

"Don't you ever talk about yourself like that," Christopher scolded her, "you're not a slut! You're a young woman who was abused by a man without honour. I didn't love you right away either, Marie. I wanted to protect you, save your honour, but for me, this marriage has become much more than a formality," Christopher declared without taking his eyes off her.

"I think it's more than a formality for me too," Marie whispered, her eyes shining, "but I feel guilty."

"Don't be. Never. Forget all that, Marie. This child is a chance, a chance for true love for you and me. And it will be loved, darling. This child is my child, Marie. And you, you must free yourself from this guilt, from these memories that have broken you. Free yourself from the past that you can't erase and focus on our future together."

"Christopher," Marie whispered as she moved closer to him.

"If you had asked me to walk away, I would have, but not now, not now that you have confided all this to me. I know you were betrayed, but we're not all like that, Marie. Try to trust me."

She nodded softly, sitting down next to him. Christopher placed a hand against her cheek. Marie leaned against his palm, more serene than she had been since she'd discovered she was pregnant.

"You're so patient with me," she said, placing her hand against his, "so good."

"I'm yours, Marie. You have my loyalty, my protection, and my love. Unconditionally."

"And if we ever have a fight, will you blame me ?"

"Never ! I'm not like that, Marie. I would never blame you for making me fall in love with you. And I would never use our child against you. This is my baby, it is mine, mine and it will never have to know the truth, because the only truth is that I am the father," Christopher said firmly in a voice that left no room for contradiction.

Marie nodded with emotion, overwhelmed. She had not chosen this marriage, but this union that she had seen as a punishment could well be a blessing if she agreed to forgive herself.

Christopher took her gently in his arms and she let him do it, resting her head against his chest. He offered her stability, security and she felt happy.

Both were aware that there would be efforts to make, trials to overcome, but together, they would be stronger. Christopher was her new beginning, it was a shivering certainty.

"Let's be a family, a real family," she said, raising her head to look into the Colonel's hazel eyes.

"I would be more than happy."

That night, Marie asked Christopher for her permission to sleep with him, which he gladly accepted. That night was the first of many. She felt safe by his side and she loved that he would lay his head against her belly every night to tell their future baby about his adventures in India as their relationship slowly blossomed into respect and love.

"Christopher !"

Christopher woke with a start at the sound of Marie's voice.

"What's going on?" he asked, getting up to light a candle.

"The baby, it's coming," she said with a grimace.

Christopher noticed that the bed was wet. Her water had broken. He immediately called for the doctor and the housekeeper. The doctor arrived quickly with a midwife who told the Colonel to wait outside.

Christopher paced up and down the hallway, clenching his fists every time he heard Marie scream. Inside the room, the governess was wiping his forehead while the doctor, with the help of the midwife, worked to contain a slight haemorrhage.

"Christopher, I want Christopher," she gasped, her fingers clenched on the blood-stained sheets.

The governess went to get him. The poor man, his hands shaking, silently prayed that everything would be okay. He could not bear the loss, neither her nor the child. When the governess told him she was asking for him, he did not hesitate for a second to go back into the room.

"Christopher," Mary whispered when he saw him enter, "stay close to me. Stay."

He came to sit next to her and took her hand in his, squeezing it delicately.

"I'm here, Mary. I'm staying close to you."

He ran a damp cloth over her forehead before placing a kiss on it. In that moment of extraordinary intensity, he offered her the strength and calm she needed, a rock in the storm.

"The baby is coming," the midwife said, pressing a little on Marie's belly.

It took another two hours for the baby to decide to leave the comfort and security of her mother's womb. Marie was exhausted and had lost consciousness once, woken by Christopher who had patted her cheeks to bring her back to her while trying to control his own fear.

When a shrill cry rang out, Marie sighed with relief, a tired smile on her face. The doctor came to place the child in her arms and congratulated her. A little boy. He was tiny, fragile and so innocent. He didn't look premature either, but the doctor and midwife had seen other things and they knew it was not their place to judge or to tell anyone.

"Christopher, do you want to take your son ?" she asked without even realizing that she was crying with happiness.

Christopher took the child with an exaggerated bow, afraid of hurting him.

"Hello my little boy. My son," he said, looking at this little being so pure that he held in his arms.

"He is so beautiful," he said, smiling, "he is a true blessing."

"What do you want to name him ?" Marie asked, placing a hand on her son's head.

"It's up to you," he answered without looking away of the baby's face.

"No. You're his father, it's up to you to choose your son's name."

"What do you think of Thomas ? Thomas William Brandon ?"

"Thomas William Brandon," she repeated, "yes, I like it."

She looked at her husband tenderly, filled with an inner peace that seemed to erase the pain of her past. There was only love in her once-bruised heart and the shivering certainty that this family he was building, everything she had lived, lost, suffered, had led her to this man who was healing her.

"I love you, Christopher," she said as the midwife took their son away to be washed.

Christopher stared at her, his throat tight. He had believed for so long that he was unworthy of being loved, and now he had a family.

"I love you too Marie," he replied, stroking her damp hair, "and Merry Christmas," he added with a smile.

Two years later

Thomas walked awkwardly in the library, following his father who was putting away books. Thomas was a child full of energy who loved to be behind his father, his hero that he tried to imitate from the height of his two years.

Marie entered the room as Christopher who had just picked him up showed her a book containing pictures of exotic animals that he had seen in India. She walked forward, looking at them tenderly, to Brandon whom she hugged from behind, resting her head on his back.

"Don't give him the wrong idea," she said, caressing Thomas' cheek.

"Believe me my dear, as long as I live, our son will never enter the army."

He turned to place a light kiss on her forehead.

"How are you ?" he asked, placing a hand on her belly.

"I'm happy. But exhausted. I wish your child would let me sleep at night," she said, laughing softly.

"I hope it's a little girl," Christopher said, gently caressing the slightly rounded curve that already hinted at the arrival of a future baby in their home.

"A winter baby and a summer baby," Marie said, looking at Thomas who was fidgeting a little in Christopher's arms, demanding her attention.

"And it's all thanks to you, my son," Christopher said in a soft voice, "you're the one who made us a family."

Marie snuggled a little closer to him. On this Christmas Eve, she couldn't be happier. She had everything she had ever wanted and more. Christopher looked so beautiful with their son in his arms. Together, they had overcome so many obstacles and their love was only stronger, growing a little more each day. He was her strength and she was his.

Marie and Christopher had the shivering certainty that they had always been meant to be together and both thanked the heavens for having pushed destiny to bring them together. Neither of them had understood it right away, but they were soulmates. That was a certainty.

[brbarou]

beloved, i have missed your company

[miciiq]

Got Aventurine in 60 pulls!

He’s so auxhuehuche I’m so happy I have him now

[bumblingbabooshka]

The amount of copium T'Pring is ingesting in this scene is unprecedented and deeply sad especially paired with Spock immediately going "Yeah of course, you know me so well babe." Someone SAVE her. You HAVE to understand. He made out with Chapel IN FRONT OF HER and her response is to immediately rationalize both that action and the clear 'passion' she saw in it - then to have sex with him. HELP HER!!!!

[feroluce]

smth smth yingfeng paralleling farcille

(magically inclined long lived partner tries to defy death by bringing their short lived partner back to life/have immortality but they come out Wrong(tm) instead)

just. the parallels <3

RIGHT? Like oh my god I love the idea of it: a mortal and immortal character falling in love, and the immortal one doing something horribly taboo for them to be together forever. But maybe they fuck something up, or maybe it's just their punishment for playing god, but their now-immortal lover Comes Back Wrong.

I'm actually not caught up on dunmeshi (I get the gist of farcille from socmed, though) but I really like an Inuyasha/Kikiyo flavor to it- Mortal lover is full of rage and hatred, immortal one can't not love them, and then they romantically and dramatically die together murder-suicide style and drag each other to hell. You know, the good shit. ☆

It is one of my ideal dynamics for a bad end pairing. And I do like necromancy shenanigans with a happier/good end, like farcille style too! Just...I don't like either situation for yingyue.

I don't think there's anything wrong with playing with them that way as long as you don't pass it off as canon, like I say all of this with no judgment. But I'm picky and I like to follow canon more closely so I can't really see them in that kind of scenario haha.

It's just! Yingxing's whole deal is that he's a haughty, spiteful, arrogant asshole of a man whose life mission is to be such a damn good craftsman that he can tell all the Xianzhou Natives who looked down on him to suck his short life species dick and flip them the bird. Him being made immortal takes all the fun out of it for me and kinda removes a central part of his character. I LOVE him being petty and full of himself. He should do it more!

And I am so so dearly enamored with the relationship between him and Baiheng. I can't write her out of the whole equation, especially considering she and Yingxing both Came Back Wrong from this incident, and she was the actual intended target.

Like. He loved her. Yingxing loved her. Baiheng was so, so important to him. She's referred to as "the beloved" in Blade's character stories. He called her his bosom friend. He handmade a jade flask just for her.

Not a weapon,

not something she needed,

not something he was doing to show off,

just a flask.

Something pretty, and just for her, something that she would like and use everyday. Not a need, but a want. He did it simply because he wanted to give her a present.

She was the first person to really encourage and believe in him. She helped him come out of his shell (so all that arrogance is her fault BSMZJMS). That animated short where they went up in her star skiff together and she called him cute fucking killed me. They make me chew concrete.

And she was really important to Dan Feng too! He wouldn't have tried to bring her back, otherwise! She died saving him. And he knew what he was doing when he chose to try to bring her back as a Vidyadhara. He had to have. There's no way he couldn't have known that his life was forfeit after this. They don't let you get away with purposely breaking one of the Ten Unpardonable Sins like that.

And he chose to do it anyway. He still chose her life over his own. Dan Feng loved her, too.

He and Yingxing both worked together to try to bring her back because she was someone neither of them could bear to lose.

So if anything, I feel like yingyue is more like larcille bringing back their beloved Falin haha

But no matter who is romantically involved with who, like. It's the love between all three of them that's important.

That's the secret ingredient that makes the triumph of Falin's rebirth and the horrific tragedy of the Sedition of Imbibitor Lunae so emotional. Because these were things that could not have happened unless they all loved each other.

[pyrriax]

ANYWHO goodnight tumblr i'll be back on the art grind tomorrow i think 🙏