#not that she needs it. she can handle herself. but it's the thought that counts

[mommyslittlebird]

Still Her Favorite

Mean!Mommy!Wanda x Puppy!Reader

After a day of misbehaving, Wanda stays home from work to punish her puppy, and her best friend Natasha decides to join.

CW: Puppy stuff (collars, ears, tails, etc.), Reader has a penis, plugs, mentions of spanking as punishment, cock shame, humiliation, teasing, safe word discussion, ignoring as punishment, illusions of cheating, jealousy, haha Natasha’s dick is bigger than yours

Word Count: 3k

A/N: Once again not the fic I promised but I’m working on it. Listening something washed over me this afternoon.

A/N: I’m going to be honest, I super don’t love this. But perfectionism is a demon that kills my ability to create, and I’d rather publish a bad fic than lose a good one to the demons.

“Now what brings a precious little puppy like this into the office today?” Natasha asked, circling Wanda’s desk to find you at her feet.

“She was being terribly naughty at home alone, yesterday. Sometimes mommy’s long hours in the office have her thinking she can get away with certain things,” Wanda explained, making no move to look at you while she was talking about you. Her ignoring you was your least favorite punishment by far. You could handle the spankings, the teasing, the humiliation, even the denial. But when mommy stopped talking to you or even looking at you, it was sheer agony.

Natasha smirked. She knew when Tony had said her best friend had requested to work from home today because she “had a new puppy that she had to take care of,” she had to come visit Wanda’s home office. And you did not disappoint.

You could’ve almost cried from embarrassment, kneeling in a dog bed at Wanda’s feet in nothing more than a pink collar and your puppy ears. There was a chain leash attached to your collar that Wanda had tucked mindlessly around her wrist. Your neglected cock was desperately hard between your legs, dribbling little bits of precum onto the fluffy fabric underneath you.

Natasha was surprised to find you weren’t wearing a tail, as that was typically one of Wanda’s staples. “No tail today, puppy?” She questioned. Unlike Wanda, she did look at you when she spoke. You wished she wouldn’t. Her green eyes sent shivers down your spine. You wanted Wanda’s attention, not hers. You didn’t answer.

“No tail today,” Wanda sighed, answering for you. She finally looked down at you with a harsh glare. “Do you wanna tell Tasha why you don’t have your tail in today, puppy?” The look she sent you cast your eyes onto the floor. It was bone chilling. When you didn’t answer, she prompted you further. “Where was your tail when I got home yesterday? Was it in your ass, where good girls keep their tails?”

“No,” you admitted shamefully, barely above a whisper.

“No it wasn’t, was it?” She scolded, returning her attention back to her work. You cursed yourself for not being able to keep eye contact. Maybe if she could see the pained look in your eye, she’d cut the punishment short and skip to the cuddles you so desperately needed.

Natasha's eyes lit up in surprise. You were typically so well behaved for Wanda. She couldn’t help but feel a spike of arousal at the thought of Wanda coming home to find you without your tail. Oh how she would’ve loved to watch that punishment. She couldn’t exactly see your ass from how you were sitting, but she was willing to bet it was covered in delicious little welts and bruises.

“You wanna show Tasha the pretty plug you’ve got in today, instead?” Wanda asked, wiggling her heel under your ass and forcing you up. Natasha stood expectantly next to Wanda as she forced you forward onto all four. You whimpered as you caught yourself on your elbows.

Natasha's suspicions were immediately confirmed when she saw your welted ass, clearly spanked raw. She wondered if Wanda had gone as far as using the cane on you last night. Oh how you would’ve cried. She felt herself growing hard at just the thought.

Wanda pressed the point of her shoe into your balls, wiggling her foot to provide friction. “Spread your ass for Tasha so she can see your pretty plug.”

You did as she asked, reaching back with both hands to better reveal the pink plug stuffed inside of you. “Mommy’s Girl” was written across the base in fancy lettering. The maneuver forced you onto your shoulders, face resting against your dog bed.

Natasha reached her hand down to touch you, stopping to look at Wanda, who nodded in approval. She pushed on the base of the plug forcing it further into your ass.

It was the biggest one Wanda had ever had you wear by a pretty wide margin. You’d cried when she put it in this morning, and the cruel sting had barely faded throughout the day. The simple sensation of Natasha’s hand was almost enough to have you in tears again.

“She’s a little sensitive, aren’t you, puppy? You’ve never had anything that big in your little ass before have you?” Wanda explained, moving her foot so the point of her shoe lightly caressed your shaft.

You shook your head into the soft fabric of the dog bed, holding back tears. The sensation of the two women’s hands on you, toying with you cruelly, was terribly overwhelming.

“Mommy’s dirtying her favorite shoes for you puppy,” Wanda smirked sadistically, nearly laughing at how pathetic you looked on the ground in front of her. She could tell the contact, after a morning of neglect, was overwhelming you. “What do you say?”

“Thank you mommy!” You cried, muffled by the plush bed your face was forced in to. “And thank you Natty for playing with my ass!”

Natasha inspected you carefully, running her hands over the raw swell of your ass. She didn’t stop when you winced and whimpered at the harsh contact she made with your sensitive skin. She leaned forward, peeking her head under you to get a better look at your cock.

She was consistently surprised by how small you were, especially in comparison to her. Even as hard as you were, your cock couldn’t have been a full 5 inches long. You weren’t terribly thick either, thinner, even in proportion, than she was. “Poor puppy,” she cooed teasingly. “I bet you can’t even please your mommy with a dick that little, can you?”

You naïvely expect Wanda might chime in on your behalf, but when she just laughed, your face burned red. You wanted her to defend you: tell Natasha that even though it was small, you had the sweetest, prettiest cock in the universe and she loved it. Sure she had to put you in a sleeve sometimes when she fucked you, but you were more than capable of getting her off. She loved your little cock, even if it was small.

But she said nothing of the sort. She simply laughed like Natty had told a silly joke.

You heard the undoing of a belt buckle behind you, and then your head was pulled back up by the leash. “Come here, honey,” Natasha instructed, motioning for you to stand up. “Let’s see how you measure up.”

You looked to Wanda, hoping she would come to your rescue, but she simply raised her eyebrows expectantly. For once, you found you didn’t want to leave your puppy bed.

You clambered to your feet, finding yourself face to face, dick to dick with Natasha Romanov. You blushed fiercely, looking down at the space between you. Where Natasha’s shaft stood proud at 9 inches, yours was a lousy 4 ½. Not to mention hers was twice as thick, ridged with strong veins up to the tip. It wasn’t so much that you were jealous of her, you just wished you hadn’t looked so puny in comparison. Maybe if you were 6 or 7 inches, this wouldn’t be such a humiliating display. Even if you just had a little more girth, her dick wouldn’t make yours look like a child’s in comparison.

Instead you stood there, eyes wide as you stared down at her, simply unable to speak. You wanted to defend yourself in some way, but what was there to defend? Her dick was superior to yours in every way. At least you were largely hairless in comparison. Then again, that just made you look more juvenile.

Natasha laughed at the stunned look on your face. “Wanda, I don’t think your sweet little puppy has ever seen a real cock before.”

Much to your chagrin, Wanda laughed too. “No, Tasha. I think it’s only ever been silicone and the pathetic little thing she’s got between her legs.”

Natasha moved to stand next to Wanda, who looked up at her, amused, from her desk chair. You watched in horror as she dropped your leash and grabbed Natasha shaft, placing a light kiss to the tip. “Don’t be rude, puppy. Tell Tasha what a pretty cock she has.”

“You-you have a very pretty cock Natty,” you stammered.

She smiled back at you condescendingly. “Thank you, puppy.”

“Now go lay down,” Wanda instructed, watching you pad over to your bed. You got back on your knees, helpless to do anything but watch the scene before you unfold.

“You truly do have quite the impressive member here,” Wanda said in faux sincerity. She lazily ten her tongue around Natasha’s tip in between sentences. “Maybe I’ll get a cast of it, for when I start to miss you. I could even get my sweet puppy to wear it as a sleeve, so she can feel what it’s like to have a real cock.”

“The poor puppy,” Natasha teasingly cooed, looking down at Wanda, “can she even get you off with that little thing?”

Wanda smirked, running her tongue up the underside of Natasha’s dick. “I have better luck getting off with a toy up that pretty ass of hers,” she teased. “I don’t even have to touch it most of the time. The little thing goes twitching and spurting all on its own.”

Natasha growled. “God, I’d love to watch her cry on my cock. Poor thing probably wouldn’t make it halfway down before the tears started flowing.”

Wanda chuckled again, continuing to lazily pump her hand against Natasha’s groin. “That will truly be a show. I can find a way to keep her mouth occupied, should she put up too much of a fuss.”

The two women continued talking, laughing at each other’s jokes, seemingly enriched in the conversation. All while Wanda casually played with Natasha’s perfect dick. And, most importantly, they never sparred you so much as a glance.

They talked about you, briefly. But the conversation soon shifted to other topics: work, travel plans, antidotes from the past. They seemed to go on and on in a jovial little conversation you were not invited to be a part of.

You whined and whimpered from your bed, jealousy boiling up inside of you, but you didn’t dare leave your bed. Even in a jealous rage, you knew the rules. You wouldn’t speak and you wouldn’t leave your bed until Wanda told you to.

You tried to remind yourself Wanda was just playing. You’d talked about this several times before. Natasha was by no means a new and unexpected addition to your sex life. But something about the way Wanda was genuinely smiling up at Natasha, her perfect dick in Wanda’s nicely manicured hand, made it feel like more than playing. You found yourself crying, tears falling down your cheeks as you tried to get their attention.

You were practically jumping around your bed, seconds away from running up and pushing Natasha away, when she finally said “Tony will be expecting me back. I told him I’d only be gone an hour or so.”

“Okay,” Wanda sighed. “I’ll see you tomorrow. If I can get the little one to behave. Love ya.”

Natasha zipped up her pants, shoving her hard on back down in her underwear. “Love ya. I’ll see you tomorrow.” And then, with all the audacity in the world, she bent down and gave Wanda a little peck on the lips.

When Natasha finally left the room, Wanda finally tapped her lap and whistled for you to come. You ran to her, nearly sending her rolling chair across the room with the impact. She caught you in her arms, gently petting the back of your head. “Shhh puppy, mommy’s got you. You’re okay.”

You whined pathetically in her lap, pawing at her shirt and leaning back to look her in the eyes. “You were just playing with Natty, right? You don’t really like her cock better, do you? Mine is still your favorite, right? Even though it’s little and maybe not so… pleasurable as hers, it’s still your favorite? Please tell me it’s still your favorite.”

Wanda giggled, calmly coddling you into her while you cried. “Of course your cock is still my favorite, baby. I was just playing with Tasha, puppy. Remember what I told you? I don’t like playing with her like I play with you. You're my special little puppy and no one is ever going to change that.”

“And-and you didn’t like kissing her either because I’m your favorite person to kiss and you were just playing when you did that,” you rambled.

Wanda eyebrows lifted in surprise. She straight up made out with Natasha in front of before for your enjoyment. She was surprised the little kiss set you off so bad. “Of course, love,” she said, pulling you into a kiss. “You’re my absolutely favorite person to kiss.”

“You promise?” You pleaded “Even though she’s bigger, and… and her cock is perfect. And she’s prettier than I am…”

You were interrupted by Wanda grabbing your face. “Hey,” she said firmly, “you’re talking about my special puppy right now and we’re not gonna use words like that, okay? Sweetheart, if it was really bothering you to watch me and Tasha like that, I need you to use your safe word, okay? I’m only playing, honey. And I can only do that if I know that you’re okay.”

You nodded. “I-I like watching you play with Natty, but you were pretending like I didn’t exist and I got a little scared that you forgot…” you explained. “You weren’t even holding my leash. You just… left it on the ground!”

“Oh sweet girl,” she soothed, “of course mommy didn’t forget about you, baby. We were putting on a little show special for you, sweetheart.”

“I know, I know,” you cried. “I was trying really hard to remember. But you were just so happy with her, and-and… I thought maybe you liked her better than me!”

“Would you have felt better sitting in mommy’s lap?” She asked, trying to problem solve this venture for the future.

You nodded. Everything is better when you can hold onto mommy.

She chuckled. “Okay, baby. How about this: next time you need my lap you just give my clothes a little tug. You won’t get in trouble for leaving your bed. If you start to feel any bad feelings, you can feel free to crawl up in my lap. Or, can you remind me of our word we use we use when we have to take a little pause and talk about something?”

“Y-yellow,” you responded.

“That’s right!” She praised. “You’re such a smart puppy. Can you promise you’ll use that next time we’re playing and you start to not feel so good?”

You nodded. “Yes mommy, I promise.”

“Good girl,” she cooed. “Remember that even during your punishments, you have the right to interrupt if something doesn’t feel right, okay. Not everything is supposed to feel good, but it’s never supposed to be too much.”

You nodded against her, wrapping your arms around her possessively. 

She let you sit like that for a minute, cooing over how much she loved you, before tucking your head into her neck and wheeling back to her desk. She carefully moved her laptop away from the center of the desk, lifting you up and setting you down in its place. You hissed as your sore ass mad e contact with the hard surface. “Now, how about mommy takes a little break from work to show you how much I love this little cock of yours, and then you can sit on my lap and cuddle until I’m done for the day?”

You nodded, leaning back against the desk, bracing yourself as she spread you out in front of her. She nudged your legs apart, sliding herself between them as she took you in. She places gentle kisses up your thighs, ruining her knuckle lightly against your throbbing shaft. “Such a pretty puppy. You’re still so hard for me angel. Have you been waiting on mommy to take care of you all day?”

You nodded, biting down hard on your lip to keep yourself from whining. Your dick was so beyond hard by this point. It took all of your willpower to stay still on the desk.

She finally took you into her hand, gently massaging the precum from your tip. “Oh angel,” she breathed, licking the thin liquid up as it dripped down your shaft. “This is mommy’s favorite cock, princess. There’s never been a more perfect one in the world.”

“Really?” You squeaked. After an afternoon of neglect, her tongue immediately felt like heaven. You were struggling to keep your head upright, but she wrapped your leash around her hand, forcing you to stay. She looked at you like you were her whole world.

She nodded, slipping the tip of your cock past her lips. You almost immediately jerk at the heavenly sensation, but she was already holding your hips in anticipation. You weren’t known for being a patient puppy. She slid one of your legs up over your shoulders to give her better access.

Her mouth moved rhythmically around your cock, occasionally pulling away to suck on your balls while she stroked you with her hand. She went slow, but not cruelly so. She was taking her time with you because you were important. Because she loved you.

Your hands tightened around the edge of the desk, fingernails digging into the underside of it. “Mommy…” you moaned, straining against the leash.

“Mmm,” she hummed, lip still wrapped around your cock. The good thing about your small size was she could take you in your entirety without much effort. You could feel your tip nearing the back of her throat.

She moved her hands from your balls down to the plug in your ass. She tapped the metal with the tip of her nails, sending vibrations deep inside of you.

You whined. “Mommy it’s gonna hurt….”

“Aww,” she cooed, sloppily kissing down your shaft. “Is it gonna hurt when you cum baby? Is it gonna hurt when your tight little ass clenches around mommy’s big plug?”

You nodded. She pulled on the end of the metal plug, twisting it inside of you. The pain sent shivers up your spine.

“It’s okay, puppy,” she soothed, “Mommy’s right here baby. It’ll only last a little bit and then you’ll get all the cuddles you can ever dream of, okay?”

“O-okay,” you breathed and she sucked sharply on your balls. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, willing yourself not to orgasm too hard.

But Wanda seemed intent on ruining this plan. She masterfully guided her tongue around your tip before she took you down to the hilt, letting it hit the back of her throat. She switched her attention between fondling your balls and playing with the plug in your ass. It wasn’t long before you were ready to cum.

“You're holding back on mommy, aren’t you? I can feel you all swollen in my mouth. And these little balls are very full, puppy. Don’t you wanna cum for mommy? You’ll feel much better after,” she insisted.

Your bottom lip quivered. “I’m scared, mommy.”

She smirked. She’d never seen you so dedicated to not having an orgasm. Either way, your resistance was futile. She continued to toy with the plug while she skillfully sucked you off. She tightened her hold on the leash.

It wasn’t even a full minute before you were begging. “Mommy. Mommy please. Please mommy I’m gonna cum. Please mommy,” you pleaded.

With one final stroke, you came, spilling down her throat. She was sure to swallow every drop, treating it as if it were a holy thing she’d be loathe to waste.

The pain overshadowed the pleasure almost immediately. Your ass tightened frantically around the plug, futilely attempting to push it out. It hurt worse now than it had going in. You cried out, reaching out to grab any part of her you could.

“Shshshhhh,” she soothed, holding her hand in one of hers while the other stroked your forehead. “You did so good for me, puppy. You’re such a good girl. It’s over now honey. You can have all the cuddles baby.”

She slid back down your body, methodically kissing her way back down your stomach to your now soft dick. She took it into her hands, all shrunken and small, and placed a little kiss to the head. She nuzzled it with her nose. “Mommy’s perfect puppy and her perfect little cock. The softest and the prettiest in the whole entire world.”

“It’s all yours,” you assured, breathlessly. “Nobody else in the world gets to touch it.” You paused before giggling a little bit. “Except for maybe Natty sometimes. But only if mommy says it’s okay.”

She giggled. “That’s right, princess. You’re a smart little puppy.”

You nodded, letting her lift you off the desk and back into her lap. She grabbed a throw blanket from the couch and tossed it over your shoulders, using it to swaddle you into her chest.

You sat astride her lap, arms crossed over your own chest as you nestled into hers. She placed a kiss on your head, rubbing the back of your hair with her thumb.

“Get some rest now, puppy. Mommy’s got work to do.”

[w1w2]

A Contract of Silence

Previous part | Part 5 | Next part

Giselle x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ca. 8k

Synopsis: Giselle and Y/N navigate their growing connection amidst the backdrop of their carefully constructed partnership.

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

♡ Enjoy! ♡

The penthouse had begun to feel different. The sterile, impersonal air that once defined the space was slowly being replaced by something warmer, something neither Giselle nor Y/N could fully articulate.

For Giselle, the change was unsettling but not unwelcome. It wasn’t a conscious decision at first, choosing to work from home more often or spending an extra few minutes in the kitchen each morning. She told herself it was about convenience, that her tightly packed schedule demanded the flexibility of remote work. But deep down, there was another reason, one she didn’t dare acknowledge. Y/N.

There was something about Y/N’s quiet presence that felt grounding in a way Giselle hadn’t realized she needed. It was unspoken, the way Y/N moved through the penthouse with her calming energy, leaving behind faint traces of warmth.

The mornings began to stretch out, no longer rushed or strictly utilitarian. The sun filtered through the windows, bathing the penthouse in golden light. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the faint scent of lavender from the candles Y/N often lit in the evenings.

Y/N usually sat at the dining table in the mornings, her notebook open or her phone in hand, scrolling or jotting down ideas. Her focus was steady, her brow occasionally furrowing in thought, and the way she curled up on the chair made the vast, luxurious space feel oddly homey.

Giselle, dressed in one of her tailored ensembles but with a touch of casualness, lingered in the kitchen. She sipped her coffee, her sharp gaze flicking between her tablet and the woman seated at the table.

The shift was gradual but noticeable. Giselle found herself drawn to the table more often than not, sometimes standing at the counter for longer than necessary as she reviewed emails or prepared for her next meeting.

One morning, as Y/N quietly worked, Giselle slid a stack of papers across the counter, the crisp sound breaking the comfortable silence.

“What do you think?” Giselle asked, her tone measured but tinged with curiosity.

Y/N looked up, startled by the question. Her wide eyes locked with Giselle’s for a moment before she reached for the papers, her fingers brushing against their edge.

She flipped through the pages carefully, her expression shifting to one of concentration. The proposal was detailed, the kind of meticulous work Giselle demanded of her team. Y/N’s brow furrowed slightly as she read, her lips pressing into a thin line.

After a moment, she set the papers down and grabbed her phone, typing quickly. She held up the screen.

“Looks solid, but the timeline seems tight. Are you sure the team can handle it?”

Giselle’s lips twitched into the faintest smile. She took the papers back, her fingers grazing the edge of the stack as though absorbing Y/N’s words. “I thought the same,” she admitted. “They’ll have to adjust.”

Y/N smiled softly, her hands resting on the table as she nodded in agreement.

The exchange was simple, almost inconsequential on the surface. But as Giselle returned to her work, she found herself glancing at the papers again, her mind lingering on Y/N’s insight and the quiet confidence she brought to the moment.

And for Y/N, the interaction stayed with her too. It was the first time Giselle had sought her opinion on something so significant, a small but meaningful gesture that hinted at the trust growing between them.

Their evenings followed a familiar rhythm, a quiet tradition that neither of them had ever discussed but both seemed to value. After dinner, when the remnants of their meal had been cleared and the penthouse was bathed in the soft glow of its ambient lighting, Y/N would retrieve her notebook or phone, ready to teach Giselle more phrases in sign language.

The lessons had become a space uniquely their own, one where titles and pretenses were left at the door. It wasn’t about CEO and fiancée, nor about contracts or appearances. It was simply Giselle and Y/N, finding a shared language in more ways than one.

One evening, Y/N flipped open her notebook, her pen gliding smoothly across the page as she jotted down the phrases they’d covered so far. She glanced up at Giselle, who was seated across from her in the living room. The CEO was leaning forward slightly, her elbows resting on her knees, a rare casualness to her posture.

“You’re getting better,” Y/N typed on her phone, holding it up with a grin that made her eyes crinkle at the corners. Her silent approval was accompanied by a playful thumbs-up.

Giselle tilted her head slightly, her lips pressing into a thoughtful line as she studied Y/N’s most recent gesture. “Still clumsy,” she admitted, her fingers moving deliberately as she attempted the motion again. Her brow furrowed with focus, the sharp precision she demanded of herself evident in every movement.

She huffed softly, her frustration evident but tempered by the patient presence of her teacher.

Y/N clapped silently, her expression bright and teasing as she shook her head. She reached out, gently adjusting Giselle’s hand until the motion was correct, her movements deliberate and encouraging.

“Like this,” Y/N gestured, exaggerating the motion to make it clear. Her energy was light, the faint bounce of her shoulders and the sparkle in her eyes making the lesson feel less like work and more like play.

Giselle tried again, her movements more fluid this time. Her sharp eyes flicked up to Y/N, seeking approval, and when Y/N nodded enthusiastically, her grin widening, something in Giselle’s chest tightened.

“What did I just sign?” Giselle asked, leaning back with a skeptical look.

Y/N’s grin turned mischievous as she signed something quickly, her motions fluid and precise.

Giselle’s eyes narrowed. “Again, slower.”

Y/N repeated the motion, her hands moving deliberately, but the gleam of mischief in her eyes didn’t waver.

“You’re refusing to tell me, aren’t you?” Giselle said, her tone dry but laced with amusement.

Y/N nodded, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

For a moment, Giselle simply stared at her, the faintest chuckle escaping her lips as she shook her head. “You’re insufferable,” she muttered, though the warmth in her voice betrayed the words.

The lesson continued, the atmosphere light and filled with unspoken warmth. Giselle, who was usually so poised and guarded, found herself relaxing in a way she hadn’t in years. The quiet encouragement in Y/N’s gaze and the way her teasing never felt mean-spirited made the process enjoyable, even when Giselle stumbled.

It wasn’t just about learning the language anymore. It was about the moments they created together, the shared laughter, the way Y/N’s energy brightened the room, and the way Giselle found herself leaning into the connection more than she ever expected.

As the lesson wound down, Y/N signed one last phrase, her hands moving deliberately, her expression soft.

“You did well,” she gestured, her eyes meeting Giselle’s with a warmth that made the space between them feel smaller.

Giselle mimicked the phrase, her hands steady now. It wasn’t perfect, but it was close.

Y/N clapped silently again, giving her an approving nod. She grabbed her phone and quickly typed a follow-up.

“See? You’re improving every day.”

Giselle tilted her head, her gaze lingering on Y/N for a moment longer than necessary. “It’s because I have a good teacher,” she said, her voice quieter now, almost thoughtful.

The exchange was simple, yet it lingered in the air between them, heavy with unspoken meaning. Y/N’s cheeks warmed slightly, but she quickly smiled, nodding in acknowledgment before tucking her notebook away.

As the night deepened, the penthouse seemed to hum with a quiet energy, the kind that came from shared understanding and unspoken emotions. It wasn’t something either of them could put into words, not yet, but it was there, growing stronger with every passing evening.

The changes in Giselle’s behavior weren’t always dramatic, but they were there, woven into the fabric of their everyday interactions. They appeared in the smallest acts of thoughtfulness, moments that might go unnoticed by anyone else but spoke volumes to Y/N.

At a business dinner, Giselle’s attention to detail was unrelenting. She had ensured that the menu accommodated Y/N’s dietary preferences, subtly but firmly redirecting the server when an incorrect appetizer was placed in front of her. “She’ll have the one without nuts,” Giselle had said, her tone leaving no room for debate. Y/N blinked in surprise but nodded her thanks, the quiet gesture not lost on her.

It wasn’t the only time Giselle’s protective nature showed itself. During a particularly high-pressure meeting, the tension in the room was palpable. Giselle’s sharp words cut through the discussion like a blade, her gaze icy as she dismantled a poorly presented proposal. Y/N, sitting quietly to the side, felt the weight of the atmosphere pressing down on her. When Giselle’s tone turned particularly curt, Y/N couldn’t help but wonder if she had somehow contributed to her frustration. The thought lingered long after the meeting ended, making her movements slower and more hesitant throughout the day.

That evening, as they sat on opposite ends of the couch in the penthouse, the silence between them felt heavier than usual. Y/N busied herself with her notebook, her fingers tracing absent patterns along the page as her mind replayed the events of the day. Giselle, sitting with her legs crossed and a glass of wine balanced in her hand, observed Y/N out of the corner of her eye. The younger woman’s posture was tense, her normally fluid motions subdued.

Finally, Giselle spoke, her voice cutting through the quiet. “You know that wasn’t about you, right?”

Y/N’s head snapped up, her wide eyes meeting Giselle’s. She hesitated for a moment, then grabbed her phone and began typing quickly. “It felt like it was,” the message read when she held it up, her expression uncertain.

Giselle sighed, leaning back against the couch. Her sharp edges softened as she studied Y/N’s face. “It wasn’t,” she said simply, her tone uncharacteristically gentle. “You did fine. Better than fine.”

Y/N blinked, the words settling over her like a warm blanket. She typed again, her movements slower this time. “You really mean that?”

A faint smile tugged at the corner of Giselle’s lips, almost imperceptible but enough to shift the energy in the room. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t,” she replied, taking a sip of her wine before setting the glass down. “Don’t overthink it.”

The sincerity in her words made Y/N’s chest tighten. It wasn’t an elaborate apology or a grand gesture, but it didn’t need to be. The fact that Giselle had noticed her unease and taken the time to address it spoke louder than anything else.

As the evening wore on, the tension between them eased. Y/N found herself glancing at Giselle more often, the memory of her gentle words lingering in her mind. And Giselle, though she wouldn’t admit it aloud, felt a quiet satisfaction in knowing she had reassured Y/N, her protective instincts now extending far beyond the boundaries of their contract.

The days that followed Y/N’s reunion with Irene were a refreshing shift in her routine. Their frequent messages and video calls brought back a piece of Y/N’s life she hadn’t realized she missed so deeply. Irene’s texts were a mix of lighthearted banter, shared memories, and genuine curiosity about Y/N’s life now. It wasn’t long before their exchanges became a regular part of Y/N’s day, a pocket of warmth and familiarity amidst the complexities of her arrangement with Giselle.

One sunny afternoon, Y/N received a text from the concierge in the building’s lobby, letting her know that a visitor had arrived. Her heart skipped slightly at the mention of Irene’s name. Quickly, she replied to confirm, giving the green light for Irene to be sent up.

The private elevator hummed softly as it ascended, and Y/N found herself pacing near the entrance to the penthouse, her anticipation growing with each passing second. Finally, the elevator doors slid open with a quiet chime, revealing Irene, who stepped out with her usual poise.

“Irene!” Y/N signed and mouthed the name, her excitement radiating as her hands moved in fluid gestures. Her smile was radiant, lighting up her face in a way that softened her features.

Irene’s expression mirrored Y/N’s delight as she stepped fully into the penthouse. “It’s so good to see you,” she signed back, her motions slower but deliberate.

Inside, Giselle sat in the living room, her tablet balanced on her lap. She looked up at the sound of the voice. Irene stepped into the space with the same quiet confidence she exuded at the restaurant, her tailored outfit impeccable and her smile disarming.

“I hope I’m not intruding,” Irene said smoothly, her sharp but kind eyes scanning the penthouse. Her gaze lingered on the minimalist décor and the impressive view through the floor to ceiling windows before returning to Y/N.

“Not at all,” Giselle replied, setting her tablet aside and rising from her chair with her usual grace. She extended a hand, her tone polite but measured. “It’s good to see you again, Irene.”

Irene returned the handshake with a firm grip, her smile widening. “Likewise, Giselle. I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting Y/N to have a fiancée when we reconnected.” Her tone was teasing but kind, her words directed at both women.

Giselle’s lips curved into a faint, practiced smile. “Life is full of surprises,” she said smoothly, though her gaze flicked briefly to Y/N, who was already ushering Irene toward the living room.

As the two women sat on the couch, falling into an easy rhythm of conversation, their hands began to move in synchronized gestures. Irene’s signing was slower than Y/N’s, her fluency not quite as sharp, but her effort was genuine and heartfelt. The room seemed to hum with their shared history, their silent language weaving a connection that spoke louder than words.

Giselle returned to her seat and picked up her tablet, or at least pretended to. She found herself glancing up more often than she intended, her sharp gaze lingering on the way Y/N’s face lit up as she signed. Her expressions were animated, her eyes sparkling with a rare joy that softened her features in a way Giselle wasn’t used to seeing.

It wasn’t just Y/N’s energy that captivated her, though. The familiarity between Y/N and Irene was palpable, a rhythm that only came from years of knowing someone deeply. Irene leaned in slightly when Y/N signed something with particular enthusiasm, her focus unwavering. The warmth in her smile as she responded was equally captivating.

A pang of something sharp and unwelcome settled in Giselle’s chest. She told herself it was nothing. Just curiosity. Irene was a friend from Y/N’s past, nothing more. And yet, the ease with which Irene navigated Y/N’s world, the way she seemed to effortlessly understand her, made Giselle feel strangely... displaced.

At one point, Y/N burst into silent laughter, her shoulders shaking as Irene signed something Giselle couldn’t decipher. The soundless exchange felt almost private, as though the two were in a world entirely their own.

Giselle arched a brow, her tablet momentarily forgotten. She kept her expression neutral, but her fingers tightened slightly around its edges. For someone so used to control, the unfamiliar twinge of jealousy was an unwelcome visitor.

“Tea?” Giselle asked suddenly, her voice cutting through the silence that followed Y/N’s laughter. Both women turned to her, their expressions slightly startled by the interruption. Giselle kept her tone even, her gaze cool as she continued. “I was about to make a pot. Would you like some, Irene?”

Irene smiled graciously, nodding. “That would be lovely, thank you.”

As Giselle disappeared into the kitchen, Y/N glanced at Irene, her hands signing quickly. “She’s not usually this... accommodating.”

Irene chuckled softly, her own hands moving in response. “She’s interesting, I’ll give her that. But you seem happy.”

Y/N hesitated, her fingers pausing mid-motion before she nodded. The truth was complicated, too tangled to explain even in sign language. But in that moment, she couldn’t deny the faint sense of comfort that had grown between her and Giselle.

In the kitchen, Giselle stared at the kettle as it boiled, the sound of the muted laughter drifting in from the living room. She clenched her jaw, her reflection in the polished steel of the kettle revealing a flicker of something she didn’t want to name.

This was ridiculous, she thought. Y/N’s joy wasn’t hers to covet. Yet, as she carried the tray of tea back to the living room, her sharp gaze found Y/N’s once more, and for a fleeting moment, she wondered if Irene noticed the way her hand lingered just slightly too long when she set Y/N’s cup down.

Later that week, as Y/N prepared to meet Irene for lunch, she stood near the kitchen island, her phone in hand as she typed. The soft light of the afternoon poured into the penthouse, casting a warm glow over the sleek surfaces.

“She thinks I should help with one of her charity events,” Y/N typed, holding her phone out for Giselle to read. Her lips curved into a small, hopeful smile. “It’s small, but it sounds interesting.”

Giselle, who had been reviewing something on her tablet, glanced up at the message. Her brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, a subtle shift that Y/N immediately noticed. She lowered the tablet, her sharp eyes scanning the words on Y/N’s phone before flicking up to meet Y/N’s gaze.

“That’s not a good idea,” Giselle said, her tone clipped and precise.

Y/N blinked, her head tilting slightly in confusion. The abruptness of Giselle’s response made her chest tighten. She hesitated before typing another message, her hands slower than usual.

“Why not?”

Giselle set her tablet aside, leaning slightly against the counter. “It could raise questions about your availability,” she said, her voice carrying the polished authority that came so naturally to her. “We’ve been careful to present a united front. Splitting your time could undermine that.”

Y/N’s lips pressed into a thin line as she processed the words, the weight of Giselle’s reasoning settling heavily on her shoulders. She tapped out a reply, her fingers hesitating over the screen.

“I thought it was a good idea. It’s just one event, and it wouldn’t affect our arrangement.”

Giselle’s gaze hardened slightly, though her expression remained composed. “It’s not just about the arrangement,” she said. “Perception matters. And if Irene’s event draws attention to you in a way that shifts focus from... us, it could create complications.”

The explanation was logical, even reasonable, but it didn’t dull the sting of Giselle’s tone. Y/N’s fingers hovered over her phone, her thoughts swirling. She wanted to argue, to say that helping with a small charity event wouldn’t jeopardize anything, but the weight of the conversation left her feeling drained.

“I understand,” she typed finally, though her expression betrayed her disappointment. She slipped the phone into her bag, her movements deliberate as she gathered her things for lunch.

As Y/N walked toward the elevator, her shoulders were slightly hunched, a subtle but telling sign of her deflation. Giselle’s gaze followed her, her sharp eyes taking in the slump of Y/N’s posture, the tightness in her steps.

The sound of the elevator doors closing snapped Giselle from her thoughts. She leaned against the counter, her jaw tightening as a wave of guilt washed over her.

She knew her reaction had been unfair. Irene’s presence wasn’t a threat, and logically, a single charity event wouldn’t unravel their carefully constructed image. But the thought of Y/N becoming more entwined with someone else, someone who understood her in ways Giselle was still learning, left her unsettled in a way she couldn’t quite articulate.

Giselle’s hand lingered on the edge of the counter, her nails tapping lightly against the smooth surface. For all her precision and control, this was one thing she couldn’t seem to rationalize away.

“Damn it,” she muttered under her breath, the quiet curse a rare crack in her composure.

The guilt gnawed at her, clashing with the irrational irritation she had felt earlier. But Giselle wasn’t ready to confront the root of her feelings, not yet. Instead, she picked up her tablet, her movements brisk as she tried to refocus her mind.

Yet, no matter how much she tried, her thoughts kept drifting back to the look of disappointment in Y/N’s eyes.

That evening, Giselle sat in her office, the soft glow of her laptop casting shadows across the room. The screen displayed an email from a partner, something about projections for an upcoming quarter, but the words blurred into meaningless lines of text. Her attention was elsewhere, drawn back to the look on Y/N’s face earlier that day.

It wasn’t just disappointment she had seen. It was something quieter, deeper, like a part of Y/N had withdrawn, retreating behind the walls she rarely let down. Giselle couldn’t stop replaying it in her mind, the way Y/N had walked away without looking back, her shoulders slightly hunched as though carrying an invisible weight.

Why did it matter so much?

Her thoughts swirled, tangled and unyielding. She had built her life on control, every decision calculated, every emotion carefully compartmentalized. And yet, when it came to Y/N, that control felt like it was slipping through her fingers.

The sound of the city hummed faintly through the penthouse’s windows, a distant reminder of the world outside. But in the stillness of her office, Giselle felt exposed, vulnerable in a way she hadn’t allowed herself to be in years.

She leaned back in her chair, exhaling quietly as her fingers hovered over the keyboard. She could have sent a message, something brief, polite, acknowledging that she might have overreacted. But the words wouldn’t come.

Instead, she closed her laptop with a soft click and stared at the blank wall opposite her desk. The truth sat heavy in her chest, buried beneath layers of carefully constructed defenses.

The truth she wasn’t ready to face.

This wasn’t about the engagement, or even the arrangement they had. It wasn’t about perception or maintaining their image. It was about Y/N. The way she brought life into the sterile corners of the penthouse, her quiet determination, her effortless warmth. The way she made Giselle feel grounded, seen, in a way no one else had.

Her gaze drifted to the door of her office, as though expecting Y/N to walk through it. But the penthouse was silent now, the only sound the occasional rustle of papers as Giselle shifted in her chair.

Y/N was likely in her room, curled up with her phone, probably texting Irene. The thought sent an irrational pang through Giselle’s chest, sharp and fleeting but impossible to ignore.

For the first time in a long while, Giselle felt truly unmoored. The life she had built so carefully, the walls she had constructed around herself, felt less solid, as though cracks had begun to form. And through those cracks, something unexpected had begun to seep in, something she couldn’t name, something she wasn’t sure she wanted to name.

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk and pressing her fingers to her temples. The tension she carried in her shoulders felt heavier tonight, the weight of her own emotions pressing down on her.

And as much as she hated to admit it, she didn’t know how to stop it.

The morning after her restless night, Giselle emerged from her bedroom earlier than usual. The penthouse was bathed in soft morning light, the faint aroma of coffee lingering in the air. Y/N sat at the dining table, a notebook open in front of her as she quietly sketched out notes.

Giselle paused in the doorway, her sharp gaze softening for a brief moment before she stepped forward, her heels clicking softly against the polished floors.

“Good morning,” she greeted, her tone even but less brisk than usual. Y/N looked up, her brows lifting in surprise before offering a small smile and a wave.

Giselle approached the table, setting a sleek folder on its surface. “I need you to pack,” she said, her voice carrying the air of someone used to issuing instructions. “We’re flying to Milan tomorrow.”

Y/N blinked, startled. Her hands moved automatically to grab her phone, typing out a quick response. “Milan? Why?”

“There’s a charity gala hosted by Lueur,” Giselle explained, opening the folder and sliding a document across to Y/N. “It’s an important event. Publicity, networking, securing partnerships, it’s all part of the image.”

Y/N read the words carefully, her lips pressing together in thought. She typed again. “You want me to come with you?”

Giselle’s gaze met hers, steady and unreadable. “It wouldn’t make sense for my fiancée to stay behind. Besides, your presence strengthens the narrative.”

The explanation was practical, detached, but Y/N caught the faintest flicker of something in Giselle’s tone, something that suggested her presence was more than just a strategic move.

“What should I pack?” Y/N typed, the question laced with quiet acceptance.

Giselle allowed herself a small smirk. “Nothing too casual. Milan doesn’t do casual. Our outfits for the gala are already chosen. I can ask stylists to help you with your clothes.”

Y/N laughed silently, shaking her head as she scribbled a quick note in her notebook. Giselle lingered for a moment, her gaze drifting to the neat handwriting on the page before she straightened.

“We leave at eight. Be ready,” she said, turning to head back to her office. But just before she disappeared down the hall, she glanced over her shoulder. “And don’t worry. You’ll do fine”. The words hung in the air long after she left, leaving Y/N with a small, inexplicable warmth in her chest. She couldn’t quite pinpoint why Giselle’s assurance lingered the way it did, but it stayed with her as she packed her things that evening, preparing for the trip ahead.

The next day arrived in a blur of final preparations. By the time they boarded the private jet, Y/N found herself marveling at the effortless way Giselle navigated the world of luxury, calm, composed, and always in control. She followed Giselle’s lead as they arrived in Milan, the vibrant city welcoming them with its blend of historic charm and modern elegance.

Now, as their car rolled to a smooth stop in front of the Palazzo di Luce, a beacon of modern sophistication nestled in Milan’s historic heart, Y/N couldn’t help but feel the weight of anticipation settle in her chest.

The sleek lines of the hotel shimmered under the soft glow of the city’s streetlights, an architectural marvel that seemed both at odds and in harmony with the ancient cobblestones surrounding it.

The valet approached, opening the car door with a practiced flourish. Giselle stepped out first, her polished heels clicking softly against the stone driveway. She adjusted the strap of her designer handbag with the same effortless grace she carried into boardrooms and gala halls, her sharp gaze sweeping over the entrance. Turning back, she extended a hand toward Y/N.

Y/N hesitated for just a moment before accepting the gesture. Her fingers were cool but steady against Giselle’s, the contrast grounding them both. She stepped out, her wide eyes immediately drawn to the grandeur of the hotel. The towering glass facade reflected the golden glow of nearby lanterns, while sleek, understated sculptures flanked the entrance like silent guardians.

“This is... a lot,” Y/N typed on her phone as they approached the doors, holding the screen up for Giselle to read.

Giselle’s lips curved into a faint smirk. “Only the best,” she replied, her tone light but carrying an edge of tension that only Y/N seemed to notice.

The doorman greeted them with a warm smile, ushering them inside. The hotel lobby was a symphony of understated opulence, gleaming marble floors, cascading crystal chandeliers, and quiet murmurs from impeccably dressed guests. The concierge, dressed in a perfectly tailored uniform, approached with a keycard in hand.

“Ms. Uchinaga, Ms. L/N,” he said with a polite bow. “Welcome to the Palazzo di Luce. Your suite is ready.”

The elevator ride was swift and silent, the hum of machinery filling the small space. Y/N’s gaze flitted to Giselle, who stood with her usual composed posture, though her hand rested loosely on the sleek railing. Y/N thought she saw a flicker of something, in her otherwise unreadable expression. Discomfort, maybe?

The doors slid open, revealing their suite. It was a masterpiece of modern luxury: warm recessed lighting illuminated marble floors that seemed to stretch endlessly. A plush sofa faced a wall of glass that framed the Milan skyline like a living work of art, the glittering lights of the city stretching far into the horizon. In the center of the room was the bed, a massive expanse of white linens and carefully arranged pillows that looked impossibly soft.

Y/N’s gaze lingered on the bed, her brow furrowing slightly before she turned to Giselle, holding up her phone after quickly typing. “One bed?”

Giselle’s lips twitched in what might have been amusement. “It’s for appearances,” she said smoothly, though her voice carried a faint hesitance. Her gaze shifted to the luxurious couch by the window. “I’ll take the couch.”

Y/N frowned, her fingers moving quickly over her phone. “That’s ridiculous. The bed is huge. We’ll both fit. It’s fine.”

Giselle arched a brow, clearly unconvinced. “Are you sure?” she asked, her tone teasing but hesitant. “I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Y/N rolled her eyes dramatically, her silent laugh shaking her shoulders as she gestured toward the bed with exaggerated emphasis, signing, “It’s fine.”

A beat passed, Giselle’s sharp eyes studying her. Finally, she relented with a small nod, her shoulders relaxing slightly. “Fine,” she said, her tone mock-serious. “But if you start stealing the blankets, I’m reclaiming the couch.”

Y/N grinned, shaking her head as she moved toward her suitcase to unpack. Giselle remained still for a moment, her gaze lingering on the bed before shifting to Y/N. There was something unexpectedly easy about their exchange, a quiet understanding settling between them.

As the evening unfolded, the suite seemed to shrink, not because of its size, but because of the growing closeness between its occupants. The walls of the Palazzo di Luce, grand and silent, bore witness to the beginning of something neither of them fully understood yet.

Later that evening, the suite had settled into a comforting quiet. The hustle and grandeur of their arrival had given way to a peaceful stillness, broken only by the faint sounds of Milan’s nightlife filtering through the slightly cracked window.

Y/N sat cross-legged on the expansive bed, her focus on the notebook perched on her lap. The outline of the city outside their windows slowly came to life under her careful strokes, the skyline rendered in soft, deliberate lines. Her tongue peeked out slightly at the corner of her lips, a habit Giselle had noticed and, despite herself, found endearing.

Across the room, Giselle reclined in an armchair near the window, a glass of wine balanced in her hand as her other scrolled lazily through her tablet. The soft light from the city’s glow illuminated her sharp features, giving her an almost ethereal quality.

The atmosphere in the room was calm, the earlier tension having dissipated into something softer, quieter. It felt unspoken but understood, an ease that came not from words but from proximity, from simply existing together in the same space.

“You’re working too hard,” Giselle remarked after a while, her voice carrying a rare trace of warmth as her gaze flicked toward Y/N.

Y/N paused, her pen hovering above the page as she glanced up. Her brows lifted, and a soft smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth as she reached for her phone. A moment later, she held up the screen. “Says the CEO with a tablet in one hand and a glass of wine in the other.”

Giselle’s lips twitched, a faint smile breaking through her usual composed exterior. “Touché,” she replied, setting the tablet aside.

Y/N’s silent laugh brightened the room in a way words couldn’t, her shoulders shaking as her gaze returned to her notebook. The soundless joy was infectious, and Giselle found herself watching Y/N for a moment longer than she intended. There was something grounding about her presence, the way she made even this opulent suite feel... comfortable.

Minutes stretched into an hour, the quiet rhythm of the room lulling them into an unspoken ease. Y/N finished her sketch, carefully closing the notebook and sliding it onto the nightstand. She leaned back against the pillows, her movements precise but unhurried, and glanced toward Giselle as she rose from her chair.

Giselle crossed the room with her usual grace, placing her empty wine glass on the table. She paused for a moment, her sharp gaze softening as it lingered on Y/N. “We should get some rest,” she said, her voice quieter now, almost reluctant to disturb the calm.

Y/N nodded, adjusting the pillows on her side of the bed. Her hands moved fluidly as she signed, “Good night.”

“Good night,” Giselle echoed aloud, slipping into her side of the bed.

The lights dimmed, leaving the room bathed in the golden glow of the Milan skyline. The bed was spacious, the distance between them more than enough to maintain boundaries, yet the shared space felt undeniably intimate.

Y/N closed her eyes, her breathing evening out as she drifted off, but Giselle remained awake, her gaze fixed on the ceiling. The warmth of Y/N’s presence lingered beside her, pulling at the edges of her thoughts, unsettling but not unpleasant.

Giselle exhaled quietly, her mind a tangle of emotions she didn’t dare name. For now, she allowed herself the smallest of indulgences, appreciating the quiet companionship of the woman beside her, the fleeting moments of peace they seemed to create together in a world otherwise fraught with noise.

Giselle woke gradually, her senses slow to piece together the unfamiliar sensations around her. The mattress was softer than the one at the penthouse, the air tinged with the faint aroma of luxury linens. But it was the warmth beside her that truly pulled her into wakefulness.

Her eyes opened to find herself closer to Y/N than she’d anticipated. The space they had carefully maintained the night before was now nonexistent. Her arm brushed lightly against Y/N’s, and her head had tilted just enough to catch the faint, sweet scent of her hair.

Y/N lay still, her face relaxed in peaceful slumber. Her features, often animated in conversation or softened with silent laughter, now carried a vulnerability that stirred something unidentifiable in Giselle’s chest. Her lips were slightly parted, her breaths steady and rhythmic, and for a moment, Giselle felt as though the world had narrowed to just this, the quiet intimacy of the morning and the weightless stillness between them.

Giselle’s mind raced, fragments of thoughts clashing against one another. Sharing a bed had been a necessity for the illusion they were trying to maintain, a practical arrangement. It wasn’t supposed to mean anything.

And yet...

She didn’t move. Couldn’t move, not immediately. There was a pull in this moment, an ache she couldn’t quite name. She was a woman who thrived on control, who navigated her life with precision and purpose. But here, with Y/N so close, her guard felt fragile, as though the quiet warmth could melt it away completely.

Eventually, she exhaled quietly and began to shift. Her movements were slow, deliberate, as though afraid to disturb the tranquil scene. As she slid out of bed, her gaze lingered on Y/N for a heartbeat longer, the faint glow of dawn painting soft shadows across her sleeping form.

Giselle padded across the room, the coolness of the marble floor grounding her. She stopped by the window, her arms crossing over her chest as she stared out at the Milan skyline. The first rays of sunlight broke over the horizon, casting the city in hues of gold and pink.

Her thoughts churned, insistent yet incomplete. She told herself this was nothing, just the natural result of proximity. But the tightening in her chest, the way her hand hovered slightly as if tempted to reach back, betrayed her reasoning.

Behind her, she heard the soft rustle of sheets, followed by a lazy stretch.

“Good morning,” Giselle said without turning, her voice steady but carrying a softness she hadn’t intended.

Y/N’s groggy expression greeted her when she finally glanced over her shoulder. She sat up, her hair slightly mussed from sleep, her hands moving slowly to sign a sleepy reply. “Good morning.”

The exchange was simple, unassuming, but it carried a weight neither of them dared acknowledge. Giselle allowed herself a moment longer by the window, composing her thoughts as the city began to awaken beneath them.

“I’ll order breakfast,” she said eventually, her tone sliding back into the polished cadence of routine.

Y/N nodded, her lips curving into a small smile. The quiet stillness between them dissolved as the day began to pull them forward, the gala and its demands looming ahead.

But for Giselle, the memory of the warmth they had shared lingered, an uninvited but not unwelcome guest in the corners of her mind. And for Y/N, the fleeting vulnerability she had glimpsed in Giselle’s gaze as she stood by the window was enough to leave her wondering what it all meant.

The soft hum of the car engine filled the air as Giselle and Y/N sat side by side, dressed to perfection for the evening ahead. The private car glided effortlessly through Milan’s cobblestone streets, the city’s charm illuminated by golden streetlights.

Giselle’s gown was a masterpiece, tailored to perfection in midnight blue silk that shimmered under the faint interior lighting. Y/N, in a sleek black ensemble chosen by Giselle’s stylist, carried an understated elegance that perfectly complemented her.

“Remember,” Giselle said, her tone measured but calm, “tonight is about appearances. Stay close to me, smile, and don’t let anyone fluster you.”

Y/N nodded, her fingers brushing lightly over her phone before she typed, “Got it. Smile, charm, and avoid flustered. Anything else?”

Giselle’s lips twitched into the faintest smile as she glanced at the screen. “And don’t let them corner you into answering questions. I’ll handle it.”

As they pulled up to the venue, the Lueur charity gala stood as a beacon of opulence. The grand entrance was lined with elegant floral arrangements, and the soft glow of chandeliers spilled out from the tall windows of the historic villa hosting the event. Paparazzi cameras flashed relentlessly, capturing the arrival of each guest.

The car rolled to a stop, and the driver stepped out to open Giselle’s door. She exited with her signature poise, her presence commanding attention as she reached back to offer her hand to Y/N.

Y/N hesitated for only a moment before accepting, her grip firm but steady. The cameras erupted into a frenzy as the two stepped onto the carpet, their perfectly coordinated attire and the natural grace of their movements captivating the crowd.

Inside, the villa was a vision of luxury. High ceilings adorned with frescoes, gilded accents, and towering floral displays created an atmosphere that was both breathtaking and intimidating. Soft classical music played in the background, blending seamlessly with the murmur of conversation and the clinking of champagne glasses.

Giselle’s hand rested lightly on Y/N’s back as they navigated the crowd, her touch subtle but steadying. Y/N’s initial nerves were soon replaced by a quiet determination, her head held high as they moved through the sea of Milan’s elite.

“Giselle,” a voice called out, smooth and warm. A distinguished man in his sixties approached, his tailored suit exuding wealth and status. “I was hoping to see you tonight.”

Giselle greeted him with a practiced smile. “Of course, Vincent. Allow me to introduce my fiancée, Y/N.”

Y/N extended her hand, her smile polite but genuine. The man took it, his own expression curious but approving. “A pleasure,” he said. “You have quite the remarkable partner, Giselle.”

Y/N caught Giselle’s fleeting glance in her direction, a flicker of something akin to pride in her eyes.

As the evening progressed, Y/N found herself engaging with guests more naturally. Her confidence grew with every introduction, and even Giselle seemed surprised by her ease.

The grand ballroom had transformed into a whirlwind of conversation and elegance, the hum of people filling the space with an energy that was both electrifying and overwhelming. Y/N, however, navigated it all with a poise she hadn’t realized she possessed.

Giselle stayed close, her presence steady and composed, but Y/N noticed the faintest flicker of approval in her eyes whenever she responded thoughtfully to a question or charmed a guest with her quiet humor.

As they moved through the room, the weight of expectation felt lighter. For once, Y/N wasn’t just the quiet fiancée of a powerful CEO, she was holding her own, and it felt good.

They paused near the center of the ballroom, where a particularly lively group had gathered. Laughter and camaraderie swirled around them, the polished glamour of the crowd heightened by the soft glow of crystal chandeliers overhead.

The center of the room buzzed with energy, laughter mingling with the soft hum of music and the clinking of champagne glasses. Among the crowd of high-profile attendees, Giselle and Y/N stood surrounded by a small group of influential guests. Their polished appearances and seamless chemistry had caught the attention of many throughout the night.

One woman, whose tailored dress and diamond-studded earrings hinted at her status as a regular at such elite gatherings, turned her shrewd gaze toward them. Her smile was playful but sharp, the kind that demanded attention.

“So,” she began, her voice lilting with amusement, “you’re the couple everyone’s talking about tonight. Quite the perfect pair.” Her gaze flicked between them, her tone turning mischievous. “But tell me, is this just for the cameras, or is there some real passion behind the façade?”

The remark drew a ripple of murmured interest from the group. Y/N’s cheeks flushed a soft pink, her fingers brushing lightly against the fabric of her dress as she glanced at Giselle.

Giselle, however, didn’t miss a beat. She arched a brow, her posture as poised as ever. “I wasn’t aware we were expected to perform for an audience,” she said smoothly, her tone laced with dry amusement.

The woman tilted her head, her smile widening. “Oh, come now. Just one kiss. Let’s give the romantics in the room a reason to believe.”

The challenge lingered in the air, buoyed by the laughter of the surrounding guests. Y/N glanced around, her gaze meeting several expectant eyes.

Giselle’s hand lightly brushed Y/N’s arm, a subtle gesture of reassurance. She turned her attention to Y/N, her sharp gaze softening slightly. “Are you comfortable with this?”

Y/N hesitated, her wide eyes searching Giselle’s for any hint of hesitation. But all she found was quiet confidence and an unspoken promise. You can trust me.

Taking a steadying breath, Y/N nodded. Her silent agreement wasn’t just for the sake of appearances, it was a decision to lean into the moment, to trust Giselle despite the vulnerability it demanded.

Giselle stepped closer, her movements deliberate, exuding the confidence that always seemed second nature to her. Yet, as she lifted her hand to cup Y/N’s face, there was a gentleness in her touch that spoke of something deeper, something unsaid.

Her fingers grazed Y/N’s jawline lightly, her palm warm against her skin. The crowd seemed to disappear, the hum of voices and music fading into the background as Giselle’s gaze held Y/N’s. For a brief moment, time felt suspended, the air between them charged with an intensity that neither could ignore.

When Giselle leaned in, her movements were unhurried, almost hesitant, as if testing the boundaries of the moment. Her lips brushed against Y/N’s, soft and feather-light at first, but there was a tenderness in the touch that made it feel far more intimate than it should have.

The kiss was brief, barely more than a heartbeat, but in that fleeting connection was a sincerity that seemed to ripple through the air. It wasn’t forced or calculated, it simply was, carrying with it an unspoken truth that neither of them dared to name.

As Giselle pulled back, her thumb lingered on Y/N’s cheek, grazing her skin in a slow, deliberate motion. The gesture was fleeting, but it felt grounding, a tether in the midst of the surreal moment.

Her hand fell away gracefully, her posture resuming its poised composure, but her gaze lingered on Y/N for just a moment longer. It was a silent exchange, heavy with meaning, before Giselle turned her attention back to the group, her expression unreadable but her eyes betraying a flicker of something softer.

The woman who had issued the challenge let out an appreciative laugh, her eyes twinkling with delight. “Well,” she said, her tone playful but tinged with sincerity, “I wish my husband would look at me like that.”

The comment drew a round of amused laughter from the group, but her words hung in the air, adding an unintentional weight to the moment.

But for Giselle and Y/N, the moment lingered.

As they resumed mingling with the guests, the memory of the kiss stayed with them like a whisper. Y/N couldn’t shake the sensation of Giselle’s touch, the warmth of her palm still ghosting against her cheek.

Giselle, on the other hand, found herself glancing at Y/N more often, her sharp focus briefly faltering every time she remembered the look in Y/N’s eyes before the kiss, the trust, the quiet vulnerability that had made her chest tighten in ways she couldn’t explain.

It was just part of the act, they both told themselves. But deep down, neither of them believed it.

As the evening continued, the gala unfolded like a seamless performance. Giselle was in her element, her every movement calculated to project confidence and control. She introduced Y/N to key figures with polished ease, her words flowing effortlessly as she maneuvered through conversations.

Y/N, bolstered by Giselle’s subtle cues and unwavering presence, found herself stepping into her role with surprising confidence. Her smiles were warm, her nods attentive, and her brief typed responses, translated by Giselle with grace, added a layer of charm to their dynamic. Together, they presented an image so convincing that even the most skeptical onlookers seemed captivated.

Yet, for all her poise, Giselle’s sharp gaze rarely lingered on the faces around her. Instead, it swept the room, dissecting every detail with precision. The slightest change in the atmosphere, a shift in laughter, a glance held too long, registered with her instincts.

A faint unease began to settle in her chest, growing heavier with every passing moment. Something was off.

And then she saw him.

The sight of Jeno standing at the entrance sent a cold shock through her. He was dressed impeccably, his suit exuding effortless sophistication. His sharp features, were lit with a smirk that radiated casual arrogance.

For the briefest of moments, Giselle’s poised exterior faltered. Her back stiffened, her jaw tightening as her pulse quickened.

Y/N noticed instantly. Her hand, small and steady, brushed lightly against Giselle’s arm, a silent question, a quiet reassurance. Giselle didn’t react outwardly, but the touch grounded her enough to steady her breathing.

Jeno’s gaze swept the room, and when it landed on them, his smirk deepened. He began making his way toward them, weaving through the crowd with unhurried steps, as though he owned the space around him.

Each step he took seemed to amplify Giselle’s unease. Memories she had spent years burying threatened to resurface, their weight pressing against the walls she had so carefully built.

“Who is that?” Y/N typed quickly on her phone, holding it discreetly where only Giselle could see.

Giselle’s jaw tightened. Her voice was steady, though laced with an edge she couldn’t quite mask. “Jeno,” she said quietly. “My brother.”

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, her brows knitting together in concern. She glanced back at Jeno, whose expression was a mixture of charm and menace, as if he were simultaneously offering a handshake and hiding a knife behind his back.

The distance between them closed all too quickly. Jeno’s smirk widened as he stopped in front of them, his gaze flickering between Giselle and Y/N with a knowing glint.

“Aeri,” he said smoothly, his voice low but carrying just enough volume to be heard over the hum of the gala. “It’s been far too long.”

The use of her real name made Giselle’s stomach twist, though her expression remained unreadable.

“Jeno,” she replied, her tone cool and detached. “What are you doing here?”

He spread his arms in mock innocence. “Can’t a brother show up to support his sister? Besides,” his gaze shifted to Y/N, lingering just a moment too long, “I had to see the famous fiancée for myself.”

Giselle’s hand clenched at her side, her nails biting into her palm. “This is neither the time nor the place.”

“Isn’t it?” Jeno countered, his smirk never wavering. He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice so only they could hear. “Charity, glitz, glamour... Seems like the perfect stage for a little family reunion. Don’t you think?”

Y/N, sensing the tension radiating from Giselle, took a small step closer. Her presence was quiet but steady, her hand lightly grazing Giselle’s again in silent comfort. The gesture was subtle, but Giselle felt it like an anchor in turbulent waters.

Jeno’s gaze flicked to Y/N, his smirk deepening. “And you must be the reason she’s kept herself so busy. Quite the power couple, aren’t you?”

“She’s none of your concern,” Giselle snapped, her voice sharp enough to cut through his charm.

Jeno raised his hands in mock surrender. “Of course. I wouldn’t dream of interfering.” His tone dripped with sarcasm, but his eyes gleamed with something darker.

He stepped back, his smirk unwavering. “Enjoy the evening, Aeri. I’m sure we’ll talk again soon.”

As he walked away, the tension in Giselle’s shoulders didn’t ease. She stood rigid, her gaze following him until he disappeared into the crowd.

Y/N typed something quickly, holding it up for Giselle to see. “Are you okay?”

Giselle hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line before she nodded curtly. “I’m fine,” she said, though the words felt hollow.

Y/N didn’t press further. Instead, she stayed close, her presence a quiet reassurance that Giselle found herself clinging to more than she cared to admit.

[the-returnofartemis]

SHE'S ENTERING HER: SOFT LIFE ERA

affirmation: waiting for a sign is no longer my strategy; i am my own sign to begin | musical spotlight: zen by jennie

"nobody gonna move my life, gonna touch my goal, my matter"

you are someone worthy of knowing, accepting, and loving yourself on all levels – mind, body and spirit. as a woman, and more importantly, a human being, you deserve a life that celebrates your growth, autonomy and your journey toward peace, love, joy, passion and fun. you can create your dream life if you believe in yourself and show up every day to take small, meaningful steps. whether it's pursuing a goal, nurturing your relationships, or simply practicing gratitude, every effort counts. don't let fear or limiting beliefs hold you back.

this is a reminder that you are capable of so much more than you might believe. below is a series of questions that you can use as a journal prompt to reflect on your potential. revisit your answers as often as needed to remind yourself of your power to create a life you love and become the best version of yourself.

define your vision ⇢ set smart goals ⇢ take consistent action ⇢ trust yourself

ꕥ what does she like?

ꕥ what does she not like?

ꕥ how does she dress?

ꕥ what does her daily routine entail? (activities, schedule)

ꕥ what does she look like?

ꕥ what are her boundaries?

ꕥ what is her career or profession? (career, job responsibilities)

ꕥ what are her hobbies and interests?

ꕥ what is her ideal lifestyle?

ꕥ how does she handle stress and challenges? (problem-solving approach, coping mechanisms)

ꕥ how does she financially take care of herself?

ꕥ what does she spend her free time doing?

ꕥ how does she navigate conflicts or disagreements? (communication style, conflict resolution)

"nobody gonna touch my soul, gonna match my glow, like i dare you"

ꕥ what does she consume on social media?

ꕥ what are her long-term goals and aspirations? (career ambitions, personal achievements)

ꕥ whom does she inspire to be like?

ꕥ what successes/accomplishments does she have?

ꕥ what are her wellness habits? (health and self-care routines)

ꕥ how is her mental health doing?

ꕥ how does she preferred to be treated by others? (standard expectations from relationships)

ꕥ what music does she listen to?

ꕥ how does she pick herself up when she's down?

ꕥ how do people treat her? (interpersonal relationships, kindness)

ꕥ what are her weekly routines?

ꕥ what values and principles guide her decision-making? (personal ethics)

ꕥ what is love to her? (interpersonal and romantic relationships)

if you’ve made it this far, i hope you enjoyed this little corner of my world. thank you for reading and please feel free to share your thoughts! always remember to love yourself as if it’s your greatest romance.

the pictures featured in this post are from pinterest.

until next time,

artemis x

[waitineedaname]

To Greed's surprise, Mei became more than comfortable with him – she actually started seeking him out. Not just when he happened to be the one piloting Ling’s body, but actively asking for him. She’d call him over to show off a new alkahestry technique she’d learned, knowing he’d gleefully cheer her on, or she’d tug on his sleeve to whisper a joke that matched his sense of humor more than Ling’s during formal meetings, or on the rare occasions when she’d bring them gifts from home, she’d make sure to bring two – one for Ling, and one for him. Despite all that, he was still surprised when she first referred to him as her brother.

I am pushing my "Greed is Mei's favorite brother" agenda, please enjoy

[rafecameronssl4t]

Saving Grace || CEO!Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: When Rafe Cameron’s infamous temper threatens to derail the entire office, his wife is called in as the only person who can bring him back to earth.

Warnings: none!

Word count: 2,051

MASTERLIST

Rafe Cameron could be described in many ways: arrogant, sharp-tongued, perpetually stone-faced, and infamously hot-headed. His temper was a ticking time bomb, always moments away from detonation. It didn’t take much to set him off—a missed detail, an oversight, or even the wrong tone of voice—and once his mood soured, it had a ripple effect on everyone within his orbit.

If Rafe was in a foul mood, the entire office braced itself for the storm, knowing they’d bear the brunt of his frustration. Productivity stalled, morale plummeted, and an oppressive tension hung heavy in the air. No one dared to ask if he was okay or offer to fix the issue—it was simply understood that his temper had to run its course.

But there was one person who had mastered the art of disarming the bomb: his assistant, Rachael. If anyone in the office had something to say about Rachael, it was that she knew Rafe Cameron far too well. She had an uncanny ability to read his moods and an arsenal of strategies for defusing them. Most importantly, she understood the one surefire way to calm Rafe down: his wife.

The woman who he worshipped the ground she walked on, mother to his children, and the only person Rafe Cameron seemed to hold above all else. No matter how irritable or unapproachable he became, the mere mention of her name was enough to shift the atmosphere. So when Rachael watched one of her coworkers stumble out of Rafe’s office, barely holding back tears, she knew it was time to intervene.

Her sharp eyes scanned the room, noting the nervous glances exchanged between staff members who were all too aware of the storm brewing behind Rafe’s closed door. Without missing a beat, Rachael grabbed her phone, dialling a number she had memorised long ago. As the call connected, her tone softened—a stark contrast to the sharp efficiency she displayed in the office.

“Hi, Mrs. Cameron,” she began, her voice carrying a mixture of urgency and familiarity. “I hate to bother you, but it’s one of those days. If you’re free, I think a quick word with Rafe might do the trick.” She paused, listening intently before smiling to herself. Rachael didn’t need to explain much; Mrs. Cameron always seemed to know exactly how to handle her husband.

And while the office might dread Rafe’s infamous outbursts, Rachael found comfort in knowing there was someone who could bring the man back down to earth. She let out a small sigh of relief when she heard your calm, reassuring voice on the other end of the line. “I’ll be right there,” you said, your tone steady but with a hint of warmth that was reserved for conversations about your husband.

Without hesitation, you grabbed your car keys, slipping on a pair of heels as you prepared to leave. It wasn’t the first time you’d been called in to play peacemaker, and it likely wouldn’t be the last. Rafe’s temper was legendary, but you knew how to navigate it better than anyone else. You’d seen him at his worst, the raw edges of his frustration and anger, but you also knew the softer side of him—the part that melted when you walked into a room, the man who looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

As you slid into the driver’s seat, your thoughts briefly flickered to your children, safely at home with the nanny. You didn’t want to leave them, but you also understood that Rafe needed you. He might not admit it outright, especially not in front of his staff, but the subtle ways he sought you out after a rough day spoke volumes.

~

As you walked toward your husband’s office, the energy in the space shifted noticeably. Heads turned, relief washing over faces that had been tense just moments before. Hushed whispers followed in your wake, employees murmuring their gratitude for the one person who could tame the storm that was Rafe Cameron. Even without uttering a word, your presence commanded respect—graceful yet undeniably authoritative.

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you, Mrs. Cameron,” Rachael said as she stood from her desk, her tone filled with a mixture of hope and exhaustion. “He’s in his office, and he’s miserable in there.” You glanced through the glass wall into Rafe’s office. Rachael hadn’t exaggerated—his frustration was palpable. The furrow of his brow, the tight set of his jaw, and the restless movements of his hands screamed of a man on the verge of losing his patience entirely.

You offered Rachael a small, reassuring smile before making your way to the door, your heels clicking softly against the polished floor. You didn’t bother knocking—Rafe hated formalities when it came to you. The heavy sigh he let out at the sound of the door opening was immediate. His eyes remained locked on the papers scattered across his desk, his tone sharp and cold.

“I thought I said I didn’t want to be disturbed.” A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you stepped inside. “Does that include me?” you asked, your voice sweet and smooth, cutting through the tension. Rafe’s head snapped up at the sound of your voice, his piercing blue eyes meeting yours. Instantly, his rigid posture softened, and the weight on his shoulders seemed to lift.

The frustration etched into his features melted away, replaced by a look that could only be described as unguarded affection. Just your presence had the power to undo him. Without a word, Rafe reached behind his desk and flicked a switch, causing the glass walls of his office to turn frosted, granting the two of you privacy. His voice softened, tinged with genuine curiosity and concern.

“What are you doing here, baby?" You walked around his desk, your movements fluid and deliberate, and Rafe turned in his chair to face you fully. Standing in front of him, you saw the shift in his expression—the hard edges of his day crumbling as he looked up at you. And there it was, the look that never failed to steal your breath.

No matter how difficult or frustrating his day had been, Rafe always looked at you like you were his entire world, as though you hung the moon and stars just for him. In his eyes, there was nothing but pure, unfiltered love—a stark contrast to the icy exterior he showed everyone else. You leaned down, your fingers brushing lightly against his jaw as you pressed a gentle kiss to his lips.

His shoulders visibly relaxed at the familiar touch, the tension from his day dissolving. “You’re scaring your employees,” you teased softly, your words accompanied by a light chuckle as you straightened up. Rafe let out a dramatic sigh, leaning back in his chair and rolling his eyes. “They’re ridiculous,” he muttered, his tone laced with both irritation and amusement.

“They’re terrified,” you corrected, folding your arms and raising a brow at him. “I saw one of them practically in tears.” Rafe groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “It’s not my fault they can’t handle a little pressure.” You gave him a knowing look, stepping closer and resting your hands on the armrests of his chair, effectively boxing him in. “Rafe, you can be a little… intense,” you said gently, your eyes locking with his. “And by ‘a little,’ I mean a lot.”

His lips quirked into a smirk, his hands instinctively finding your waist. “You don’t seem scared of me,” he said, his voice dropping into a softer, almost teasing tone. “That’s because I know the real you,” you replied, brushing a strand of hair out of his face. “The one who spoils me, reads bedtime stories to the kids, and eats all the burnt pancakes I make without complaining.”

He let out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling from his chest. “You know I love those burnt pancakes,” he murmured, tugging you closer until you were practically sitting on his lap. “Hmm,” you hummed playfully, trailing your fingers along the lapel of his blazer. “Maybe I should remind your staff that under all that brooding, you’re just a big softie.”

“Don’t you dare,” he warned, though his smirk betrayed the emptiness of his threat. You laughed softly, pressing another kiss to his lips before pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. “Then maybe try to be a little nicer? For me?” He sighed, feigning reluctance, but the way his hands tightened on your waist betrayed his surrender. “Fine,” he said, his tone mockingly begrudging. “But only because you asked so nicely.”

“That’s all I needed to hear,” you said with a satisfied smile, brushing your thumb against his cheek. “Now, why don’t you take a break? Let me help you relax before you scare anyone else.” Rafe’s smirk softened into a genuine smile, the love in his eyes shining brighter than ever. “You really are my saving grace,” he murmured, his voice low and sincere.

[thehoneybeestings]

More, More, More

Word Count: 647

Synopsis: The last time you slept together, you asked Sevika for more than she had equipped; she makes sure she's prepared for the next time 'round.

Content/Warnings: nsfw, porn w no/little plot, strap (r receiving), top! sev, bottom! reader, softdom! sev, reader has female anatomy, i must be ovulating

A/N: Honestly, this did not turn out as nasty as I thought it would… anyway, first smut! Woohoo! I'm currently working on a dancer! vi au headcanon (enemies to lovers too how juicyyy), but I had this idea pop into my head today and thought I'd write a little drabble about it for y'all to have in the meantime; so here ya go, and I hope you enjoy! 

Love, Bee ୨ৎ

୨ৎ Sevika, who’s looking at you with a shit-eating grin as you stare slack-jawed at the silicone in front of you

୨ৎ Dark purple (her favorite color, you’ve noticed), eight inches long, and two inches wide

୨ৎ Your eyes slowly trail up to meet her own, eyebrows raised

୨ৎ “Sevika,” you begin with a breathy chuckle, “I… I don’t know if I can.”

୨ৎ She quirks a brow at you

୨ৎ “You took all of me last time and then asked for more; you can take it.”

──˚₊•୨ৎ•‧₊˚──

୨ৎ Sevika, who’s got you coming undone below her; flesh hand on your hip, and the other guiding the first inch of the purple toy into you

୨ৎ You don’t know how many hours it’s been, but you know you’re a handful of hickeys and orgasms in; and still, here you are, clawing at her arms, begging for something (you’re not even sure what)

୨ৎ “I hear you baby,” Sevika would soothe, kneading your hip, “I’m right here; doing so good f’ me."

୨ৎ She’s in a trance, watching the toy sink into you inch by delicious inch

୨ৎ Until, you suddenly reach out in between your spread legs, placing a hand on her stomach

୨ৎ “Fuck, it’s too much,” you’d pant, “Shit, Sev, ‘s too big…”

୨ৎ She cocks her head to the side with a lazy smirk

୨ৎ “Yeah?” she’d tease, “Can you take this much for now, baby? Can you do that for me?” 

୨ৎ “Yeah,” you’d say weakly, too full of her to muster anything else

୨ৎ “Atta girl.”

──˚₊•୨ৎ•‧₊˚──

୨ৎ Sevika, who’s fucking you into the mattress, flesh hand pressing into your lower back, mech hand gathering your hair into her fist

୨ৎ You’re drunk off of the fullness

୨ৎ The stretch of your walls around the silicone, the kiss it just barely plants on your cervix with every thrust; you need more, more, 

୨ৎ “More?”

୨ৎ You hadn’t realized you’d been doing your pleading out loud

୨ৎ “Yes, fuck yes, please, please, please…”

୨ৎ She’d let your hair loose, placing her mech hand parallel to the other and pulling you back up onto your knees by your hips

୨ৎ You’d attempt to push yourself back onto the toy, and she’d land a quick slap on the swell of your ass, ordering you to “Slow down.”

୨ৎ The last thing Sevika wanted was for you to get hurt (which is why she refused to be any rougher with you in bed than she already was, despite your reassurance that you could handle it), so she’d be slow to push into you

୨ৎ The sound that leaves your body when you feel Sevika come to a hilt inside you is guttural

୨ৎ Your arch deepens as your arms reach out to grab at the rungs of the headboard in front of you, knuckles turning white

୨ৎ The cool metal of Sevika’s hand trails up from your hip, to your back, to your forearm, and eventually, just above your own hand so that she can grab hold of the headboard herself

୨ৎ Her breathing is heavy, her body trapping yours, and you can tell she’s coming undone, so you reach over your shoulder to interlock your fingers with her flesh ones (whenever Sevika begins to fall apart, she needs the contact)

୨ৎ “Fuck, Y/n,” a kiss on your shoulder, “Okay for me to me move?” 

୨ৎ You nod frantically, brows knit together in pleasure, but that isn’t enough for her

୨ৎ “Words, love; I need words.” 

୨ৎ "Yes! Fuck, Sevika, please fuck me!”

──˚₊•୨ৎ•‧₊˚──

୨ৎ Sevika, who’s slow to pull the silicone out of you so she doesn't jar you, and quick to take the harness off so she can hold you

୨ৎ Your breath is still coming out in pants as she strokes your back and peppers kisses on your forehead, your temples, your cheeks

୨ৎ “You okay?” She’d ask

୨ৎ “Mhm,” you’d nod into her chest

୨ৎ “You need anything?”

୨ৎ “Mm-mm.”

୨ৎ “Can I clean you up?”

୨ৎ “No,” you’d mumble, “more cuddles for now.” 

୨ৎ And she’d chuckle, pulling you closer

୨ৎ “ ‘S always more with you…”

End ୨ৎ

[finelinefae]

flower [tattooH x Innocenty/n]

synopsis: harry's the boy next door, he's also a tattoo artist aannd y/n's sexual awakening because she's an innocent virgin with a flower shop. 

word count: 8.6k

content warnings: smut (fingering, daddy kink, praise kink, virgin Y/N) 

read part 2 here

my first imagine !! i hope u enjoy it !! i enjoy it here very much !

. . .

Y/N had been having a terrible week.

She owned a flower shop called 'Sweet Juniper' which had been hers for almost an entire year. It had been her dream to share her love of flowers with everybody so when she finally saved enough money to set up a shop, she worked tirelessly to make it the best possible floral shop the town had ever seen.

People would put in special requests if they needed flower arrangements for special occasions or others would just come by to just lift their mood a little bit if they were having a tough day. Y/N loved her customers and spent so much time chatting throughout the day all whilst tending to her plants.

But this week was not fun.

The shop next door had been empty for a long time now - ever since Y/N had set up shop. She lived in the flat above the shop so it was ideal not to have to handle any neighbours. But the past few weeks, decorators and construction workers had been making a lot of noise - fixing up the empty shop - which meant someone was moving in.

Y/N hadn't met them yet so she wasn't sure what the shop next door would be. The town was relatively quiet so she expected a bakery or maybe a clothing boutique. Only yesterday, with the shop all set up and ready to go, she found it to be nothing of the sort.

It was dark and music pulsed through the walls of her flower shop. The heavy bass made it sound like someone was trying to fight their way through the floorboards she had painted a very, very light pink.

Her customers had complained especially the older bunch. They had trouble concentrating whenever they tried to talk to her or hear her advice on what the best flowers were during the current autumn season.

So after a not-so-fun week and frequent visits to the corner shop to top up her headache medication, Y/N made the decision to confront her new neighbour and tell them exactly how she felt. She wasn't going to let her flower shop fail because of an inconsiderate, noisy fool.

Y/N flipped the sigh from 'open' to 'closed' and took off her apron which had her name in swirly handwriting embroidered onto the breast pocket. She took three deep breaths and mentally went through her speech. She wouldn't be unkind but she would be fair.

"You can do this Y/N," She said to herself before she exhaled and opened the door to walk five steps over to her next-door neighbour.

She hadn't seen the shop properly since the decorating was completed so was immediately struck by how dark it was in comparison to her own shop. It was painted black with illustrations and pictures of people's tattoos set up in the shop window.

The pavement was lit up in the darkness by the red neon lights coming from inside the shop. Everything about it was so different to her baby pink and white flower shop.

The sudden thought of turning back and going upstairs to her apartment almost tempted her enough to turn away but she knew the problem would not be resolved if she were to sit by and do nothing.

Her Mary Jane heels tapped against the pavement as she came to stand in front of the door. It seemed as though the shop was still open, so she pushed the door and stepped inside.

The smell of tobacco and musk and ink hit her senses as she closed the door behind her. The heavy bass of the music was now pounding through her ears. The nerves were rising within her and turning back seemed much more tempting now.

She spun on her heel and reached for the door handle, only to be stopped by someone clearing their throat.

"Are you here for a tattoo?" His voice was deep, husky and... pretty.

She turned around and was met with a tall figure standing in the doorway to the back of the shop. His arms were by his side and he was wearing a black, fitted shirt with black trousers and low cut doc martens with red laces. His face was illuminated by the red, neon sign on the wall with the words 'Styles INK' written in a grungey font.

"T-tattoo?" She gulped, the script she had rehearsed over and over again was nowhere to be found like the words had silently fallen from her brain, through her nose and slipped from her mouth before she had time to speak them out loud.

He walked to the front desk, footsteps heavy against the wooden floor. "We don't take walk-ins this late at night if that's what you're after."

The tone of his voice made her tremble in her heels. She curled her fingers into a fist and tried to stop her heart from beating so fast. "I-I'm not here for a tattoo. I-I'm actually from next door."

His head lifted up, she could finally see the colour of his eyes were a pale green and his hair was curly and brunette. "Ahhh," He dropped the pen he was fiddling with on the desk, "The flower girl."

She huffed, "Yes, that would be me."

"M allergic to flowers." He said.

"W-what? Why would you set up shop next to a flower shop then?" She asked.

"Only place that offered a space with an apartment." A breath slipped past her lips.

He was not only her shop neighbour but her neighbour neighbour too.

Well, this just made things a bit more awkward.

He came in front of the desk and leaned against it, crossing his arms. Y/N saw every inch of the skin on his arm littered with tattoos and even caught a glimpse of his ring-clad fingers. "Listen, if you're not here for a tattoo then why are you here? I need to close up so I'd appreciate it if you were quick with whatever it is you came here for."

Y/N swallowed her nerves, "Your music is too loud a-and it's driving my customers away."

"What was that?" He wanted her to repeat herself.

"Y-Your music, it's much too loud and my customers are c-complaining." She wished she didn't stutter but at least she got what she needed to say out.

"My music?" His eyebrows scrunch up.

"Yes." She nods.

"What about your music?" He retorts, "s all I can hear when I'm upstairs."

She immediately blushes and wonders how long he has been staying in the apartment upstairs. Y/N was so used to not having neighbours that she hadn't thought to turn her music down or take a break from her lonesome karaoke nights.

"That's different."

"If I have to hear you sing to that broken-hearted, bubble-gum pop princess every night then you can't complain about me playing my music like I have." He argues.

"B-but I don't play it in the day like you do! It's so loud! It is - hey quit laughing!" She huffs when he snickers at her.

"M sorry, you're just so little." He laughs. "Maybe that's why I haven't seen you since I've moved in."

Y/N crossed her arms, "I'd just appreciate it if you turned your music down a little, just so my customers can shop for their flowers in peace."

He says nothing. Instead, his eyes scan her face and then fall on the rest of her. She was wearing light blue jeans and a pink, cosy sweater. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail with a white, silk ribbon and her heels were still on her now aching feet.

He smirks, "Alright, I'll turn my music down but you have to do the same. I don't want to hear you sing about Romeo and Juliet or running out of the woods at 11 o'clock at night when I'm trying to relax."

She turns pink but luckily the red light hides the true colour of her cheeks, "Fine." She huffs and turns on her heel, too embarassed to say anything else.

"It was nice to meet you, flower." He says and she swears she can hear him smiling.

Her entire face heats at the nickname.

***

The next day, Y/N walked downstairs to her flower shop and prepared for a new day. She spent the rest of her night after visiting the stranger next door, quietly listening to music in hopes he would reciprocate today.

She hadn't seen him since last night and part of her was grateful for that. He was tall and intimidating and covered in tattoos but his voice was just so...nice that she couldn't seem to get the thought of him out of her head since she walked out of his tattoo shop. It was embarrassing to admit and Y/N was awfully bad at hiding her emotions so she hoped that would be the last time she'd speak to him face to face.

When she flipped the sign on the door to 'open', she held her breath as she waited for the sound of heavy, rock music coming through the walls only to find complete silence. She smiled and mindfully tapped herself on the back for being brave enough to go over and stand her ground.

Her customers were happy with the change too. They stayed and chatted with Y/N for a while, bringing home their baskets of flowers. The day had been much more successful than the past week had and she was thankful things would finally get back on track.

After cleaning the shop at the end of the day, she walked upstairs to her apartment and immediately decided to get into her new cute pyjamas she had ordered from Hollister - long trouser bottoms and a cute tank top both covered in the same pink, ditsy floral print.

She made herself some dinner and snuggled up on her tiny couch with her pet cat, Marshel, nestling to the side of her. Y/N hummed in delight when she made the decision to re-watch her favourite Harry Potter movie- it was the best film for the autumn weather.

Ten minutes into the movie sounds of people speaking and loud music sounded through the walls of her apartment. "Oh please no," She looked up at the ceiling, praying that someone out there would put her out of her misery.

It could only be her new neighbour, the tattoo artist, the one with the nice voice.

She pressed her ear against the door of her apartment and from the racket of people speaking and how loud the music was, she knew he was having a party.

"It's going to be a long night Marsh." She sighs, picking up her kitty and carrying him to bed.

At 2 am, Y/N was still awake. The party was still going and the music had yet to quieten down.

Y/N had been tossing and turning all night. Tears in her eyes as she tried to sleep but couldn't because of the loud noises coming from next door. At this rate, she'd only get four hours of sleep before she had to be up again for the busiest day of the week at the shop.

She couldn't handle it anymore. She flipped her duvet off and swung her legs over the bed. Her eyes fighting to stay open as she stumbled for the door.

At this rate, she was so tired she didn't care how she looked. She just wanted the quiet.

She flung her front door open and already found herself outside the tattoo artist's door. She knocked but the music was so loud, the only thing she could do was invite herself in.

The door opened and suddenly she was in a whole new world. There was cigarette smoke and a strong stench of alcohol. It was dark but red LED lights lit the room. People were laying on the floor or sitting around chairs or dancing in the empty spaces. There must have been about thirty people but with how tiny the apartment was it felt like much more.

Y/N took a deep breath and began her mission to find the source of where the music was coming from. Everyone was much taller than her which made it harder for her to push past people, especially in their drunken state.

"Excuse me please," she mumbled.

"Flower," his voice made her freeze in place.

She stilled and spun round on her sock-covered feet, making a mental note to throw them in the trash when she got home.

The person standing in front of her looked the same, wearing the same all black outfit he wore yesterday. She could see the illustrations of his tattoos a little better this close and she could also see the anger that covered the features of his face.

"Y-you." She said through parted lips, unable to hide her fear or shock.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" He grabbed her arm and pulled her to a corner of the room. He placed his hand on the wall behind her and covered her with his body like he wanted to hide her away.

"The m-music it's too loud and I-I can't sleep." She said, nearing on tears.

"You and your loud music." He muttered, "It's Saturday night. Shops aren't open on a Sunday."

"Mine is." She said.

"What?"

"I open my shop on a Sunday. I do work shops for little kids whose parents have to work on weekends and for elderly people who get a little lonely." It was her favourite day of the week but now she was dreading it because of the lack of sleep.

His expression seemed to soften but he rolled his eyes, "Of course you do."

"I just need to sleep for four more hours and then you can carry on doing whatever you're doing." He smirked.

"You've never been to a party before flower girl?" She shook her head and yawned.

Harry's smile fell and he sighed. He looked around at the party and then at the sleepy girl in front of him. "Fucks sake." He muttered and wrapped an arm around her.

Y/N's eyes widened when his hand rested on her shoulder. He tucked her into his side and quickly manoeuvred past everybody.

"Is that your new girl Styles?"

"Nice one, H."

"Have fun Styles."

"Ignore them." Harry told her as he reached their front door.

"Is that your name? Styles?" Y/N realised she had yet to ask what his name actually was.

"S Harry. You call me Harry." He says and she smiles at how normal and soft his name was compared to his dark and grizzly stature.

She hadn't realised what he was doing until he opened the door to her apartment. She gasped, suddenly wide awake and highly alert considering he was now in her very messy, untidy apartment.

"W-what are you doing?" She ran to her sofa and picked her blankets up from the floor before grabbing her bowl of popcorn from the coffee table that was littered with books and magazines she was halfway through reading.

Harry's eyes darted around her small apartment. The corner of his lips flinched into an almost smile when he saw the pastel colours littered around the place. It was so her - cute and cosy.

"You wanted to sleep." He said, "M helping you sleep."

Her mouth opened and closed in shock, "Helping me sleep?"

"Mhm, I've got these," He pulled out some earbuds from his pocket, "They're noise cancelling. Can't hear a sound when you've got them in your ears."

She looked at them in intrigue, "Where's your room?" He wondered, already walking in the direction of her bedroom like he'd been in her apartment many times before.

"My room's a little untidy," She tried to get past him so she could block him from coming into her room but he was much too tall.

"Don't care flower, just helping you out." He walked into the messy bedroom and paid no mind to the state of the floor. She'd never had a man in her room before so wasn't sure exactly what to do. Her apartment seemed so much smaller from his presence alone. "Get into bed, love." He pulled out his phone.

"O-okay," She said and tucked herself under her blanket.

It was strange to let a person she barely knew into the confines of her room but she was too tired to care and something inside of her trusted him.

He crouched beside her, resting an arm on her mattress. "Here put these in," He handed her the headphones, "Can you hear me?" He asked but received no reply, instead, Y/N giggled.

"I can't hear you Harry!" She laughed and something weird happened in his chest.

He smiled, "Tha's good." He murmured and put on a song he knew she would like.

Her heart stopped beating in her chest when the gentle piano music began to play. An instrumental of 'Cardigan' by her favourite singer whispered into her ears as he played it on a low volume.

"Sleep now flower." He encouraged.

"M name's Y/N." She whispered, her eyes fluttering shut, "You can call me Y/N."

"Y/N," He whispered back and the name seemed to unlock something deep inside of him. He said it once more for good measure before leaving her there with the music still playing.

***

Y/N woke up the next morning with a phone that was not hers resting right by her head. She had managed to fall asleep for four hours thanks to the man who she now knew as Harry. She felt as though last night was a fever dream and Harry had been a guardian angel, granting her sleep at last.

She could have slept in for another four hours but the shop would not run itself and she had many workshops on today that a lot of people had signed up for. She grabbed Harry's phone and made a mental note to give it back to him before she went to open the shop.

She made herself a good breakfast and fed Marshel as well, before getting dressed into a grey mini dress with a cute white collar and an encrusted black bow. She tied her hair back into a half up, half down and fastened it with a black bow to match her dress. She wore the same black Mary Jane heels and a bag with her packed lunch inside.

When she left her apartment, she listened out for any loud music coming from Harry's apartment only to be met with silence. She knocked three times- his phone in her hands- but no one answered.

She'd come back later, she thought. Maybe he was also catching up on some much-needed sleep.

Her first workshop of the day was with a group of children.

Their parents worked weekends and some of them were from the orphanage that they had signed up to help them develop new hobbies. Y/N knew them all by name and loved teaching them how to grow their own tomato plants and arrange flowers with cute bows.

An hour before lunch, she had a class with a group of mothers whose children had just left home. Most of them came because they needed a little company on the weekends when not a lot was going on at home or they wanted to pick up a new hobby.

In the midst of her basket weaving session, Y/N heard a phone ring. She glanced at the phone still on the front desk and saw the screen lighting up. "Excuse me ladies," she slid off the chair and walked over to Harry's phone.

Mike Supplier was the name on the screen. She wondered whether or not it was important and if she should answer it just in case. The phone stopped ringing for a brief moment until the name lit up the screen again.

"Seems important, Y/N." One of the ladies said.

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows and walked to the back room, pressing the green button to accept the call. "Fucking finally!" A gruff voice speaks on the other end, "I've got your stash when do you want it?"

"Excuse me?" Y/N blushed, not use to such aggressive language.

The person paused, "Are you Styles' new lady? Listen can you put him on the phone? I need to speak to him urgently."

Y/N was in shock, "I'm not his lady! I'm his neighbour."

"Well, whatever you are could you just pass the phone to him?"

"Give me a second," She huffed, entering the shop again and turning towards the ladies who were in deep conversation, "Ladies, I just need a moment to go next door." They nodded.

Y/N could hear Mike Supplier cursing over the phone even as she had it by her side. She noticed Harry's shop was still unopened so went upstairs instead.

She knocked on the door of his apartment repeatedly until she finally heard footsteps coming towards the door. His door swung open, "Can I help you flower?" Her eyes widened.

He stood in the doorway with nothing but grey sweatpants and socks. His bare torso was littered with tattoos and his brunette hair was clipped with a tiny claw clip.

"Your p-phone," She held it out to him. His eyebrows furrowed like he had a lot of questions as to why she had his phone but he took it from her anyway and held it to his ear.

"Yeah, yeah shut up." He spoke. Y/N could still hear Mike Supplier talking on the other end. "Come by this afternoon. I'll wait outside the shop and don't wear that dodgy fucking hat this time."

The conversation ended and Y/N stood awkwardly in front of him. "Well I should go,"

"Wait," Harry stopped her "Did you steal my phone from me flower girl?"

"N-no! You left it in my apartment." She argued.

"Oh yeah," he grins like he was thinking back to being in her room last night, "Your lips go all pouty and you snore when you sleep you know that? 'S cute."

"Hey," she huffed, "I do not snore!"

"Whatever you say baby." Her cheeks warmed at the new nickname he had accidentally added to the seemingly growing collection.

"W-well who was that anyway. He was a little rude." She mumbled.

"You spoke to him?" He arched a brow, "was he rude to you?"

"He swore at me,"

"Dick." Harry muttered, "He's my supplier."

"Oh like for the shop?" She asked. Harry could have sworn he was having palpitations from how innocent she looked.

"No baby," he smirked, "a different kind of supplier."

"Oh," she said, still not fully understanding what he was getting at, "Well I better get down to the shop. My class is waiting for me."

"Sure I'll come with you." He grabbed a sweater and his jacket from the coat hanger.

"Wait, what? No."

"I'm bored and I want to hang out with you." He shrugs, "I don't see how that's a problem."

"You want to hang out with me?" She couldn't make sense of it.

"Mhm," He shut the door of his apartment behind him, "Lead the way, flower girl."

Y/N argued with him as they walked back downstairs. She tried to push him out of the shop before he could even step foot inside but she was too small for his 6ft frame and he gently grabbed her waist and picked her up as if she weighed nothing, stepping into the shop.

All eyes turned in their direction. Y/N blushed and stuttered as she said, "L-ladies, this is my neighbour."

"Hi, I'm Harry." He said from behind.

The ladies looked confused and then concerned and then suddenly they were grinning ear to ear, slipping out of their seats to welcome their new guest.

"Oh Harry, you look as old as my boy! It's so lovely to meet you." Mildred, one of the elder ladies said.

"Nice to meet you too." He spoke in a warm, almost flirtatious way.

Y/N stood there in shock, her mouth opening and closing like she couldn't believe what she was seeing. Kathy and Lucy had already sat him in between them both and got him the things he needed to weave a basket.

"Are you interested in flowers Harry?" Julia asked.

He looked across the table over at Y/N whose cheeks seemed to be a shade of red they'd never even been before. "Only one."

"Oh well Y/N's an excellent teacher. We're making hanging baskets to plant daffodils in them for the spring."

"Hmm I guess I've come to the best place to learn then." His eyes remained fixed on Y/N who defeatedly picked up her basket to show Harry exactly how to make one himself.

"How are you so good at this?" Y/N whispered in awe as Harry finished his basket.

"These hands are good with fiddly things." He says.

"Oh that's wonderful Harry!" Kathy exclaimed, "You could take over Y/N's job. Might help her out and she can finally have a much deserved rest."

"S that right? You tired flower?" Harry murmured when he saw Y/N's eyes opening and closing as she leant against the desk.

"Not tried at all," she lied but Harry seemed to see right through her.

"Hmm," he frowned which immediately had Y/N standing straight and trying to disguise her exhaustion a little better.

"You hungry?" A tall shadow loomed in front of Y/N as she sat at the desk, processing payments for her classes and labelling the baskets for the ladies to take home.

She looked up and saw Harry, his voice now a familiarity after the last almost twenty four hours since she had met him. "A-a little." She decided not to lie this time since apparently, she was much easier to read than she thought.

"I've got food upstairs, wanna come up?" He asks.

"A-Are you sure?" 

"C'mon little flower, I wouldn't be asking you if I didn't mean it." With a nod, Y/N locked up the shop for lunch and followed Harry up to his apartment. When she stepped inside, it was completely different to how it had been last night. 

It was clean and tidy. A few boxes were lying on the carpeted floor of his open living room here and there, but for the most part, it was pretty neat. Y/N's eyes were immediately taken by the prints hanging up on the wall. 

"These are incredible." She gasped, feeling particularly fond of a line drawing of a woman. 

"It's my mother," He stood next to her, looking up at the drawing with her. 

"You drew it?" She asked, wide-eyed.

"Mhm," He hummed. 

"Wow, no wonder you're a tattoo artist," She glanced at the intricate tattoos littered on his arms. 

"Ever thought of getting one yourself?" He asked. 

"N-Not really, I'm no good with needles." She said, rather sheepishly. 

He smirked, "Let's get some food in that tummy." 

Twenty minutes later, Y/N and Harry sat on the small two-person couch eating sandwiches and a fruit salad they had prepared together in Harry's even smaller kitchen. Y/N giggled as Harry threw a grape into the air and tried to catch it in his mouth.

"T-tell me about your tattoos," Y/N insisted after taking a bite out of a strawberry. Harry's eyes looked down at her lips and back to her big, doe eyes. "What does this one mean?" She questioned, pointing to the words written in Hebrew.

"M' sisters name," He starts, "And that says 'Can I stay?'" 

"Hmm, you have a lot of hearts." She said, fingers lightly touching the human heart on his arm. 

"I have a lot of love." He grins, cheekily, like he knew the line was cheesy but wanted to use it anyway. He was glad he did from the smile it had formed on Y/N's face.

Y/N hadn't realised how close they had gotten until she felt his breath on her neck.  Her voice wavers slightly as she tries not to think too much about it, "And what about this one," She points to the rose, her fingers tracing the petals. 

"I did that one myself," He murmured, lips close to her ear. 

"You did?" She said but it came out more as a whisper. She seemed to have forgotten how to breathe, her brain turning to mush and all her thoughts suddenly turning into Harry. 

"Mhm," She glanced up and his deep, green eyes were already boring into her. Her eyes darted down to his lips and then back up again. "You're pretty," He mumbled, loud enough so she could hear.

She shook her head, "I-I don't think so," She was suddenly flustered and confused and wondering why her brain was not acting the way it usually did. 

"I know so," His hand reaches up to tuck her hair behind her ears, and she shudders when his fingertips brush against her cheek. Slowly his head inches forward and the nearer he gets it feels as though more oxygen leaves the room. "Relax," He whispers, touching her hand, "You're okay flower girl."

"H-Harry, I-I've never kissed anyone before." She admits, embarrassment flooding her. 

"What?" He furrows his eyebrows. 

"O-oh, it's just that... I've never been k-kissed before."

"By anyone?" She nods. "Impossible." He whispers.

"We can stop if you want to," He says, his voice gentle and comforting.

"No," She wraps her small fingers around his wrist before he pulls away, "I-I want to,"

"Want to what?" He smirks, "You've gotta tell me baby."

"I want to k-kiss you," She blushes, it's all she seems to do around him.

"Cute," He murmurs before his lips press to hers.

Y/N's not sure what to do at first, her eyes are open and shock courses through her, but Harry's lips move against hers and he breathes, "Relax flower," He insists and she does. 

Her eyes flutter shut and she mimics his movements. What he gives, she gives right back and a small whimper leaves her when he kisses her even harder. She starts to lose her breath with how long they kiss for but she's far too deep, floating too much, to pull away. She grabs the back of his neck and pulls him in closer, a groan eliciting from somewhere deep inside him. "Baby," The name escapes his lips and a shiver runs through her. 

With panting breaths, she pulls away and so does he. Her face is flushed and his lips are pink, "You okay?" Is the first thing he asks, receiving a nod. "I think 'm a little bit obsessed with you." He confesses.

"M-Me?" She couldn't believe what he was saying. 

"Don't think I've ever wanted anything more," He looks away like being vulnerable is a foreign thing for him.

"Why?" She can't help but ask.

He shrugs, "Sometimes it just is." 

She thinks on his words before replying, "Can we kiss again?" 

Harry chuckles, "Kiss me all you want flower."

. . .

Y/N had a permanent smile on her face the next day as she went back to work. People asked her what was making her so happy and she was constantly finding things to lie about instead of speaking the name of the tattooed boy next door. 

An hour before lunch, the postman came to deliver her new ribbons for the bouquets and accidentally dropped off a package meant for Harry. Y/N couldn't help but smile at his name written on a brown box. 

"Give me a second ladies, I'm just going to pop next door." Y/N grinned, ignoring the knowing looks of the ladies she was teaching. 

As Y/N walked next door, her confidence seemed to shrink with every step. She realised she had yet to go to Harry's tattoo shop when he was actually working and she knew she would stick out like a sore thumb once she took a step inside. She was wearing a lilac dress and white heels, of course, she was going to stand out.

The bell rang as she stepped inside and a few customers looked up, some of them doing a double take at the small girl. Music played through the speakers but it was a lot less quiet compared to the first day Harry's shop had opened. 

Footsteps walked on the wooden floorboards and Harry walked out from the back room. His eyes caught sight of Y/N and his frown immediately turned into a smile. He held his arms out for her and she quickly walked into his embrace. "Hi flower," He murmured into her hair. 

"I came to drop off your package," She held out the box to him when he let her out of his arms.

"Oh," He took the package from her, "That's all?"

She bit back a smile, "Mmm, I may have something very important to tell you," She gave him a not-so-subtle wink.

He grinned, almost wickedly, "Well, do follow me this way to tell me this very important thing," He led her way from the waiting area and somewhere closed off and hidden from everywhere else. 

When they were alone, he grabbed her hips and hoisted her up onto a countertop, knocking things over. "Harry," She giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck. 

"Shhh no more talking baby," He said before kissing her lips that he spent all night dreaming about. Their mouths were wet and hot against each other as they made out in a closet hidden away from Harry's customers.

His hands slid down her back and around her waist, pinching her hips, "Did you wear this dress f' me baby?" He murmured, the tone of his voice sending shivers up Y/N's spine. 

"Wanted to be pretty for you." She told him. She had spent all morning trying to find a nice outfit to wear, not only for work but for when she saw Harry too.

"Fuck," He groaned against her lips, "Where have you been all my life?" 

Y/N felt like a teenage girl getting all flustered and hot over a boy. She'd never experienced being with someone in this way before and now she had a taste for it and couldn't get enough of him. She had left Harry's apartment yesterday in a daze and she felt like she was still floating from the high of her first kiss. 

He stood in between her legs and she subconsciously rolled her hips against him. She gasped in both shock and at the feeling of him against her, "You're okay baby," He soothed her, sensing her confusion.

"Feels good huh?" He pulled her hips into him again and she felt a moan bubble in her throat. "Have you ever touched yourself Y/N?" He wondered. 

She froze, "N-no," She confessed, embarrassed. 

"Nothing to be ashamed of baby," He comforts her, his words soothing the insecure part of her. He kissed her lips softly, "Can I visit you this evening?"

She nods without even thinking about it, "Please," 

He smirks, "Please baby? Please? What are you asking for?"

She didn't know, her mind was foggy and all she could see was him, "Everything." 

His eyes darkened but his smirk never left, "'M polite little flower."

"Harry," She whined, burying her face in his neck. 

Harry laughed and cupped the back of her with his hand, kissing her forehead, "I'll come visit tonight and you better be wearing those cute pyjamas," He knew she was smiling because he could feel her lips against his neck. 

That evening after Y/N had closed the shop, she ran upstairs to her apartment and kicked off her heels. She ran around her living room, hiding things she didn't want Harry to see and flinging dirty laundry into the washing basket. 

She walked into her very pink bedroom and pulled out her pyjamas, happy to finally be wearing something comfortable. She spritzed some of her favourite perfume and rubbed vanilla lotion into her skin. 

Y/N sat on her sofa with Marshel seated by her feet on the carpeted floor. She switched on the TV and watched a few episodes of friends whilst continuing to finish her knitting project - she was making a blanket since one of the ladies from her group was pregnant and would be giving birth very soon. 

She fought to keep her eyes open as she waited for Harry to knock on her door. His shop was meant to have closed twenty minutes ago so she assumed he'd be here by now. 

Slowly, an hour had gone by and Y/N was getting worried. Her mind spun with insecurities and a sudden fear that something might have happened to Harry. She placed her knitting project on her coffee table and patted Marshel on the head. She walked to the door and slid her sock covered feet into her brown UGG boots. 

The shop was not its usual LED red colour when she came to stand in front of the window, instead it was neon blue. Y/N frowned when she heard music playing from inside and checked to see whether the door was open.

Her hand pushed the door handle, the door swinging open and the muffled music suddenly became coherent. She could hear voices coming from the back room where Harry tattooed his customers.

Walking towards the sound, Y/N eventually caught the sound of Harry's voice amongst the group of people chatting. Her shoulders relaxed at the thought of him being here, at least she knew she'd be okay if he was there with her. 

Turning the corner, her eyes landed on Harry with two other tattooed men, smoking something that - in Y/N's opinion - smelt a little strange. 

Harry must have sensed her presence as he turned his head and caught sight of her hiding behind the corner wall. He smiled, "Hey flower," 

"Hi," She murmured, feeling embarassed. 

"C'mere," He held out his arm for her and she scurried towards him, attaching herself to him by snuggling her body into his side. He put an arm around her, kissing her forehead. "I thought I was meeting you upstairs?"

Y/N frowned, "You took too long,"

He smirked, "M impatient girl," He nodded towards the two men he was talking to, "Y/N, these are 'm friends, Mike and Dan."

"Mike supplier," Y/N whispered, finally putting a face to the name of the man she had spoken to on Harry's phone.

He was tall and bald with a beard and looked to be in his forties. Like Harry, he also had tattoos but not nearly as much. Beside him was Dan who looked closer in age to Harry, maybe a little older. He was blonde but wore a cap on his head and a silver chain around his neck. 

After Harry had finished smoking with his friends, he said his goodbyes and led Y/N upstairs back to her apartment. "What were you smoking? It smelt funny," Y/N asked,"

Harry fell back onto the couch and pulled her down with him. She lay on top of him, the smell of the smoke still lingering on his clothes. "'S just a bit of weed." He confessed.

Y/N gasped, "Weed? Is that legal?" 

Harry looked at her amused, "Not here but it doesn't do much harm to me, been smoking it for ages." He twirled a piece of hair around his finger, "Does that bother you?"

She thought about it but the idea didn't really seem to phase her. As long as he was being safe and was using it in a healthy sort of way, she didn't mind. "N-no, not at all." Harry's smile widened into a grin. He didn't hesitate to kiss her, feeling her soft lips which had recently become his new obsession. They were so soft and red and kissable and made just for him. 

Y/N didn't want him to stop kissing her whenever he did. She loved the feeling of her eyes fluttering shut and all of her senses just filling up with him. Harry pulled away, still cupping her cheek in his hand. Y/N's chest heaved up and down against him as she tried to catch her breath, "Breathe, flower." His heart ached when she looked up at him with swollen red lips, trying to catch her breath. "Lose your breath a little bit huh?"

"A little," She huffed. 

"You're too cute." 

Y/N kissed him again once she had caught enough air again. Harry sat up, pulling on the roots of her hair as her legs wrapped around him so she was straddling him. She whimpered, tugging on the fabric of his t-shirt.

"What do you want baby?" Harry mumbles against her parted lips. 

"Take it off," She whispers, pulling on his shirt. 

Harry does as he's told, pulling his shirt up over his head and revealing his muscular, tattoed torso. Y/N's eyes widened. She'd never seen something so beautiful, he looked as though he was one of those marble statues in a museum. "Eyes on me baby," Harry smiled, pushing her chin up with his finger so her eyes were looking directly into his. "What now?"

"I-I-I don't know," She blushed, losing her confidence now that they were no longer kissing. 

"We don't have to do anything you don't want." He looked at her with a soft gaze.

"I-I don't want to disappoint you." She admits, her insecurities coming to the surface. 

"Couldn't disappoint me baby, ever." She smiles, feeling secure in his words and his hold. Y/N leans forward and rubs her cheek against his chest. Harry's hands go beneath the tank top of her pyjamas, brushing her bare back. "If it helps I've never done this before."

She's shocked but she tries to hide it, "W-what do you mean?"

"Been intimate with someone." 

She smiled. 

She really, really liked him.

. . .

For weeks after, Y/N was obsessed with two things. 

Her flower shop and her tattooed boyfriend next door.

When she wasn't working, she was with Harry, either cooking in his apartment or cuddling together on the couch in her living room. Harry had also developed a new taste for basket weaving, joining in on Y/N's Sunday classes with the elderly ladies in the morning. 

In the short time they had known each other, Y/N had come to learn that Harry wasn't a morning person but he never missed a Sunday class even when he was exhausted from the busy day before at the tattoo shop. He would stumble downstairs with dishevelled hair and sleepy eyes in sweatpants and a hoodie, sitting in his seat between Mildred and Julia as they fussed over him. 

Y/N had also grown a love for kissing Harry at every opportunity. She'd take many five-minute breaks, walking over to the tattoo shop and kissing Harry in the cupboard or visiting him in the alleyway behind the building where they'd make out against the brick wall. Even Harry had an addiction to his girlfriend's very kissable lips, sneaking out of his shop in between appointments to smother her in kisses in the storage cupboard. 

"Hey Marshy little fur ball," Y/N bit back a grin when she heard the door of her apartment open and the familiar gruff voice speak to her little cat. 

She swung her legs over her bed and paused the movie she was watching, running to the front door and leaping into his arms, "Hi flower," Harry murmured, inhaling the scent of her coconut shampoo. 

Y/N nuzzled her face against his jumper and squeezed him tightly, "Hi Harry," She sighed, blissfully.

"Wanted to come see ya, hope tha's okay." He kissed her quickly. 

"Course, I was watching a film in my room." She tugged on his hand and lead him to her bedroom. 

Harry had spent nights in Y/N's room before. Sometimes he would ask her if it was okay if he took a nap in her bed whenever he finished work early because it was much comfier than his. She'd find him curled up under her blankets, hugging one of her stuffed animals to his chest with the hood of his sweatshirt over his head.

Harry removes his sweatshirt, leaving him in only sweatpants, before he crawls into bed and pats the spot beside him. Y/N turns on the movie but knows that neither of them has any plans of watching it. 

With the amount of kissing they had been doing, Y/N hoped she had gotten a lot better. She realised Harry would often make small, quiet noises whenever she did something he liked, like tugging on his hair or sticking her tongue in his mouth. 

It wasn't long before they were making out again on her bed. Her leg hooked around his hip and her hands in his hair as he gripped her waist, every now and then he would squeeze her ass remembering the first time he did it and how much she loved it from the soft moans that left her. 

Y/N thought that kissing Harry was the best thing in the entire world but what she didn't know was that Harry had plenty more up his sleeve. 

His hand slid from her waist and down to her bare thigh - she was only wearing pyjama shorts since her apartment was pretty warm. He squeezed her softly, "Can I feel you baby?" He asked.

Y/N froze, not sure how to react. "I-I-"

Harry cupped her cheek, "I know," He already knew what she was thinking before she even said anything, "We can carry on doing what we're doing if you prefer. It's no rush." 

"N-no," She grabbed his wrist in both her hands. Y/N was a virgin but she wasn't afraid... Just inexperienced and that made her a little wary. But with Harry, she knew she wanted to allow that part of herself to him. Maybe not the whole thing but a little something. 

"Y-you can feel me... I-if you like." She said, awkwardly. 

Harry chuckles, "What about if you like, hmm?" His fingertip traced circles on her thigh, leaving a trail of goosebumps. 

"I-I would l-like that p-please." She whispered.

Harry grinned, "Only because you're so polite sweet girl."

Harry's arm slides between her legs and hooks his fingers around her pyjamas bottoms to pull them down her legs. Y/N inwardly praised herself for shaving the night before yet she was pretty sure Harry wouldn't mind either way. Harry tuts when he sees her underwear, "Did m' little flower get all wet from kissing on daddy?" 

She felt the air leave the room and her body heat at the nickname. It was so dirty and yet she felt herself aching from his words. "Y-yes," She breathes. 

"Yes what baby?" He kisses up her thigh. 

"Yes daddy," She murmurs. 

Harry eyes darken as he looks down between her thighs, "My good, polite girl." He pinches the flesh on her thigh and she feels her chest heave.  Y/N gasps for air when his fingers trace the fabric of her underwear and her heart races even more when he moves her underwear to the side to see a part of herself no one had ever seen before.

"Fuck me," He whispers under his breath. "Prettiest pussy I've ever seen." 

"R-really?" Y/N blushes, her cheeks hot.

"Don't think I've ever seen something so pretty." 

"T-thank you, daddy." She whispers the last part but it doesn't stop the bulge from growing in Harry's sweatpants. 

"Have you always been this needy when we kiss baby?" Harry murmured in her ear as his fingers part her pussy. He tries to stop himself from groaning at the slick wetness that coats his fingers.

Y/N gasps at the new feeling but is immediately overcome by pleasure as Harry begins to move his finger back up to her clit, "Harry," She whimpers. 

Harry's quick to pull his hand away, "Nuh uh baby, that's not my name."

Y/N's head was all dizzy but she managed to reply, "Daddy, please," She whines.

"Barely even touched you and you're already whining," He tuts before rubbing his thumb over her clit and making small, slow circles. Y/N whimpers at the new sensation of intense pleasure. "Does that feel good flower?" He asks, nipping her ear as he murmurs against it. 

"S-so good- so good daddy, so, so good." She babbles as he continues to tease her clit with his thumb. 

"Who'd have thought I had such a naughty girl hmm?" She arches into his touch as he moves his finger in a certain way. She wonders how she managed to go on for so long without feeling something so blissfully delightful. 

"Put your hand here baby," Harry instructs, reaching for her hand that wasn't currently scrunching the duvet, and placing it flat over the top of his, "Let me show you how to touch yourself. Watch daddy," Y/N's eyes look down to see his gold ring-clad fingers drenched in her wetness, his tattooed hand moving in circles as her rubs her clit. "This is how I want you to touch yourself when you think of me baby and when you're good, I'll make your perfect, little hole feel good too." Y/N gasps and clenches when he brushes a finger against her hole. 

"I-I'm good-Please, I'm good," She mewls and her hand grips his wrist instead. She uses it as leverage to twist and turn into him, the pleasure overwhelmingly good she can't help but hide her face in his neck. 

"You are good," He kisses her forehead, "My good girl." She nods at his praise, eyes shut. 

Harry forces her legs a part and continues to pleasure her in a way she didn't know about until today. She writhes and moans beneath his touch as he whispers dirty things into her ear. "I want you to cum baby, think you can do that?" 

"Mhm," She sighs, already feeling the bubble of pressure in her tummy. "F-feels - feel's s-so-" 

"Feel good m'love?" He coos, "Cum f' me. Cum f' daddy, wanna see you soak my hand." 

At his words, Y/N whimpers as she becomes increasingly sensitive the more he circles her clit. Harry feels as though he's about to explode as he watches her cheeks flush pink and she grinds her pussy against his hand as she rides out her orgasm. "That's it my little flower, so good." He praises her, feeling her shudder as she finishes coming down from her high.

She's panting heavily as Harry slides her panties back into place. "You okay?" Harry checks, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Y/N nods and instantly feels embarrassed, hiding herself in the crook of his neck. Harry chuckles, "That was the hottest thing I've ever seen."

"You're lying," Y/N says, her voice muffled against him.

"Never gonna lie to you flower, never." He promises. 

Y/N removes herself from her hiding place and looks up at him. Harry's heart bursts in his chest when she sees her sleepy, blissful gaze. He wonders where this girl has been all his life and how he managed to go this long without her. He was pretty sure he was falling in love with her but that was a conversation for another day.

"W-what about you?" Y/N looks down and sees the very noticeable bulge in his trousers. 

Harry shakes his head, "Not today," He smiles, "We have plenty of time to experiment some more but think you've had enough experimenting for one night."

"Me too," Y/N curls into his side, not bothering to put her pyjama bottoms back on. "Having sex is exhausting." 

"We didn't even have sex, silly girl." Harry laughs.

"Felt like it," She mumbles against him.

"I'm that good huh?" He grins, cheekily, "Just you wait baby,"

"The best," She slurs, yawning, "M so tired." 

"Yeah? You sleepy baby?" He kisses her forehead. "Get some sleep m'love," He wraps an arm around her and tucks her into his chest. 

"I like you very much Harry," She whispers, sleepily. 

"I like you very much too." Harry replies, holding her close.

psa don't let strangers into your room... actually don't let anyone into your room

[gangplanksorenji]

Clandestine

Pairing: NewJeans’ Danielle x Male Reader

Word Count: 6,000

A/N: Hello Orenjideul! This is probably the last fic I'll be writing and releasing this year because I'm getting occupied with my own endeavors. This is purely 97% a BFH fic because this Dani look is killing me.................. (god, that waist) Enjoy reading it! <3

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“Try and keep it secretive, please.”

Those words define what’s the goal—mouths shut, all within yourselves.

You’ve been living your life on the edge, playing with fire and Danielle is the gasoline that keeps igniting it and it piques you, delving for more. It’s scary, outrageous to the very least but in the greater perspective, it’s blissful and fun and that’s what matters at the end of the day.

Try, like what’s stated. It’s ultimately the goal and you’d revolve around that single word every damn time.

You have a reputation to protect, and it’s all in the means of Danielle because a single mistake can bear a scarring loss, because she has everything to lose and you’re to blame if it were to happen (the latter is speaking in hypothetical terms).

“Can’t wait, hm?” Your eyes gaze towards her, plastering a faint smile as you continue to pepper her neck with kisses that felt too euphoric on Danielle’s end.

“Ahh—how can I wait?” Her moans bless your ear, and you absolutely take that as an affirmative with her delight. She knows on herself that you’re insatiable and she hates it—temptation breaking as the both of you are speaking, and she’s feeling every ounce of your energy all over her skin.

Her hands roam around your body, feeling your kisses get herself acting up and writhing under your control. You turn, tilt her chin to face you and all you can see is a visage worth an awe. “You’re so goddamn pretty, Dani.”

These compliments just ignited the utter bliss she feels, lips curling into a smile of sincerity adding up to her impeccable beauty that no one can rival. You rest your nose onto her neck, then peppering it all over again as your hands handle her with care and the absolute ambition to let her know how much you adore her.

“You—you’re kissing me so, so good…” Danielle’s accent is candy to your ears, and you’re just replying with more intimacy. Her hands find the hem of your shirt, dexterous fingers lifting it as her primal instincts kick in until your hands hinders her advances.

Danielle whimpers, a hot breath brushing against your ear as you locked eyes onto hers. “Not yet, Dani.”

A visible pout by your sunshine, and immediately, you’re captivated but not enough to break the façade. “B-But why? Oh…”

Patience is what she needs, and as selfish as this sounds, your needs would be the priority for fulfillment.

Like what’s stated at the beginning  you’ve been living at the edge with her and thankfully, there’s no instance enough to bear such a result that would crumble a reputation. It’s just not helping where you’d be damned to live if ever Hanni catches you with such mess with Danielle and it’s doubled down with Minji—you’d be gone for good, that’s for sure, but Danielle has this hold against them that wouldn’t let you go and stick this risky relationship that could bear a scarring demise.

But who cares about that now? Not when her figure is all for your eyes to drool upon, in full display with her pants and that shirt curled into a crop top unleashing something within you—she looks unreal, sculpted to perfection as the outfit accentuates her undying hotness, a gift for you to admire and lastly, savor.

Your hands roam around that tiny waist of hers, abs flexing with your enervating touch that earns faint, sultry moans escaping her lips. You caress it and she continues her vocalization, ceaseless with your aims of adoring every inch.

“God, this fit—” Your power was evident, pulling her towards you as she gasped with your domination, and then smiled as she anticipated. “—is insane. I never thought you could be any hotter.”

It’s true, factual even, because numerous people would agree to you on how hot she looks with these kinds of fits. It does help knowing how she’s cognizant to push your buttons, and with just the tip of the iceberg, you melt and those eyes of yours tell a story.

“I knew you’d love this.” Danielle’s expressions smoulders a little, her face contorting confidence as she knows how she’s your kryptonite, and it’s mutual—even if it’s ego-driven, you can’t deny the fact that she’s alluring and you love her confidence because she knows she’s fucking hot.

You’ve seen multiple cases on the Internet, ever-so-liked within the people in various social media platforms sharing Danielle’s impeccable figure and the raises alongside it. You’re glad you’re in the first row of her show, always hitting and selfish because it’s all for you eyes to see—only you. Her fragrant smell hypnotizes you and it’s effective, luring you in and investing in more efforts into worshiping her. Kisses, suckles and licks is her threshold, currently shivering with the pleasure you give her as her ragged moans are enough for a conclusion. 

“God—please, stop…” You stop once she calls your name again, hoarse, feeling that she can’t possibly handle the way you’re treating her—you assume she’s more sensitive with you and nothing else. You’re visibly puzzled, lingering that assumption within you as you’re vocal enough to address her sudden words to feed off against her needs.

“Anything wrong, Dani?”

“I—” Her lips are quivering, hands fiddling the hem of her shirt as her doe eyes invite you to listen, and you're all ears for that. “—want this.”

You know where she’s going with this as her hands run down to your pants and near the vicinity of your nether regions and god, her fingers alone would make your beast stand up in vigor. Your hands hold hers, guiding her through the zipper as your other hand finds its way onto the valet of her curves, teasing the skin of her spine that’s enough to make her release a dulcet moan towards your lips. “How do you want it, hm?”

Your voice is alluring, predominantly teasing as the last hm signifies your interest. Danielle just moans with your repeated touches, and she’s barely coherent and mostly mumbling, what more if you're going a level further? “Can’t quite hear you, baby.”

You’re now pinning her against the wall, you weight pressing against her slightly as you eyes then face her and begged, “Just kiss me first, please.”

That please of hers was so lovely and sincere you can’t afford to lose this opportunity. You were surprised with Danielle’s initiative, cupping your cheeks as she pulled you in for a kiss and you quickly reciprocated. The sloppy sounds and the sultry moans escaping your lips signals the deprivation, and it’s all fulfilling every second that passes.

Her lips are soft and you won’t get exhausted kissing those all day, even if it means your own lips to be numb. It’s sweet and hers is torrid, the exchange heating up the permeated humidity she exuded just by herself and she’s just igniting it all throughout.

“Kissing me so good, Dani…”

“Can’t blame that you taste great.” Danielle spits the truth, her lips curling up on a smirk as she bites her lip, currently in this state of need and her face alone just lit the fire inside your heart. “Now I need this.”

She cups the apparent bulge, visibly poking onto the fabric of your pants as her daring advancements makes you utter a faint moan in which she chuckled, a victory in her possession.

“Getting too bold, are we?” It’s straightforward and lustful, and definitely, you like it. 

You’re not going to introduce the necessities for foreplay and more, and with the lust growing inside you that’s matching hers, you’ll let her do what she’s great at and with a single command, reply with immediate compliance. “Drop down to your knees, baby.”

It felt like her knees faltered, dropping down with a thud onto the cold floor as her hands then found its way onto the edge of your pants, tugging them and licking her lips in anticipation. Now loosened up, she pulls them down and lets gravity do the work, making a puddle of your clothing onto your ankles. She’ll steal glances towards you while working her wonders, and the contradicting natures of the sight just below your waist sends you into overdrive—her gleeful yet seductive smile covers up to the sins that he’s about to do, and it’s aligning all too well.

“God, I’ve never done this for a while…” Danielle’s tone permeates that self-doubt since it’s factual, marking maybe months until she’d indulged herself into something like this and it doesn’t help with the group’s busy schedules and everything that’s making their time occupied prior to this.

You tilt her head, facing towards you as her eyes meet yours, and you reassure her. “You’re a natural, Dani—besides, just let yourself be what you are.”

Let herself be, and ultimately, she knows that it’s always what she is in situations like this. Letting the doubt aside and her hunger to take over, she impatiently yanked your boxers down, joining it onto the puddle of worthless clothing down to your ankles. Danielle’s eyes glimmer with that lingering captivation as soon as the beat inside you unshackles from its clothed prison, almost hitting her in the face as it stands tall and stiff, waiting for her touch to enchant it.

She coos, hot breath within that reddish crown and you moan because of it. “Still a-as monstrous as I remembered.”

The teases probably get into you (even though her tone laces with sincerity), uttering a laugh as her lips part, a pout on display, gently kissing the leaking slit and her hands roaming around your base and onto those balls she always loves to taste. Of course, the sunshine descends down into the darkest sins, carnally worshiping your cock with an eager suck to collect that liquid you’re leaking and the profound spit that she lathers all around your length. You doesn’t leave any inch untouched with her lips and sheathed with her saliva, as her attention averts down to your balls and plays with it, her hands pumping you with a leisure pace that’s enough to wring that pleasure you’re always seeking.

“Looking great so far?” Your legs are probably viable to give out, knees shuddering as her touch sends you into the abyss of gratification. She knows the answer to such a rhetorical question, living up with the compliment you withdrew earlier and it’s factual, she's naturally skilled. “You know the answer to that, Dani—fuck…”

She replies with her tongue now dancing around your throbbing cock, her snug mouth encapsulating half of your length as she eagerly bobbed, up and down, and no stopping. Your hand finds its way onto her messy bun, tied upright with a clip and you could just let yourself feel every ounce of pleasure being brought by Danielle. 

It was hurried, ephemerally increasing the pace as her mouth gets messier, her own saliva seeping out of her mouth supports the fact. You kept moaning and it invigorates her for more, until she knows she;s approaching her limit.

She gagged and immediately pulled out, and your mouth just showered her with compliments and those eyes of her shine with your approval. “You’re incredibly gifted, god…”

“Can’t help it tastes really, really good, daddy.” The name, the word, god, she knows what buttons to push against you. 

She always does, in most cases and you’re here to indulge with the fact that she’s controlling you slowly. You would give in to her dominant nature against your cock but here, you still stand and it’s contradicting—you’re nowhere near being precarious, and you’ll take that heavenly mouth of her anyday (like you would resist it).

She voiced out your insatiability, impaling her mouth with your own length and bobbed frantically, her immediate actions sending your sensitivity onto the roof and so is the pleasure. She treats your succulence like it’s her favorite popsicle, sucking onto every inch of it and savoring the flavor that’s probably inviting her more roughness and you could feel it.

“God, Dani—shit!” You’re unable to utter coherent sentences as you’re involuntarily shouting out the pleasure she brings, and you could look down and see that smile printed onto her lips, even with a mouthful of your length. You caress her cheeks, run your fingers through her dark-colored locks that’s messy enough to compliment the disarray of her doings. 

Here it comes, those eyes of hers locking onto yours, so innocently-looking with the scintillations telling a story full of her wonders and with those very eyes of hers, you’re hypnotized. Her pace never falters, almost pumping her head and kissing your base everytime she buries her throat full of your length, and it almost makes your foundations meet its crumbling outcomes. Her gags are apparent, jerking her head onto you but she fights, because she wants to deliver the utmost pleasure you deserve and with that determination, you’re absolutely going to reward her.

The inevitable is bound to happen, as she ejects onto your saliva-sheathed length, strings of her drool connecting onto her lips and your tip, marking her shirt and soaking so little of it and she catches her breath, chest heaving with what she’d done. “G-God—oh, I—”

“Hey—you did fucking amazing, holy shit…” You’re vulgar and bold, and she doesn’t mind it because it’s mutual when you did your own oral expertise onto her—possibly no one heard her swear so much as ever before whenever you eat her out, and it’s a concealing fact that’s only exclusive between the both of you.

Her lips, swollen and pink, shiver with the sin she has done but she never regretted it, and instantly becomes gleeful once your praise is registered within her. “All for you, daddy.”

Of course it is, and she was giving her hundred percent with every second of this opportunity. There’s still a soft heart within you, consulting her as your eyebrows furrowed, subtly worried. “Are you okay, though?”

“Hah… yes, daddy—I just want more of this cock.” She’s a little exasperated from such an impressive act she’d done to you, and her smiles reassures you and with the eagerness of her livid strokes says a lot. 

Danielle holds onto your rod with a vice grip, tight enough for more moans to escape your lips as her lips find its way onto your tip, lapping up the scrumptious taste that she’s addicted to. It was evident, utterly in need for you as she didn’t build up a pace slowly for yourself to get used to, and did the opposite. The pace counts for your release, and it’s evident with the way she’s doing everything in her power to inch you closer to her deserved reward. She takes more than half of you and fondled your balls, earning the sultriest and knee-shuddering moans that urges her for more.

You avert your eyes down, and she’s occupied with your cock, hammering her mouth with it and hollowing her cheeks whenever she feels wringing out the best gratification she can muster. She’s closing her eyes, feeling every inch of you until the back of her throat, gags following and you persistently throbbed in reply with that. She tames it and you admire it, fighting the urge to release her vice grip around your length.

Your eyes then drool all over her impeccable figure, even when she’s down onto her knees—the perfectly sculpted curves of her waist to her hips while her head fades onto the sight with a bobbing blur just ignites the thought of ruining her.

You're lost under her spell, and you wanted to see those beautiful eyes of hers, as she does what she’s best at. Lifting her chin up with your index finger, you gulp and give in to your desires. “Look at me when you're sucking me off, Dani.”

She obliges as she meets your gaze, your face contorting slightly with the pleasure as her ruined visage is enough to know how much she’s enjoying it.

It’s the same cacophonous sounds that deafens your ear with, the same music you won’t get tired of listening if it means to make Danielle feel the delight she always deserves—the concoction of slurps, gags and sloppy sounds are the things at the tip of the iceberg.

Her pace increases, and now, your hands find her hair again as an outlet against the ultimate pleasure she brings, drilling into her mouth deeper without your awareness, balls slapping against her chin due to her breakneck pace. You would want to prolong the dopamine rush within your veins, but the curtain calls out to a painful denouement tha would conclude the first part of an exquisite show she’s laid upon between your legs.

The throbs are persistent, and she doesn’t have a plan to pull out and you have your own desires that’s ready to be fulfilled.

“I’m close—c-can’t hold it anymore—” You gulp right after, breaths uneven as the both of you are just savoring every second, eyes closed and yearning for more. You assess every pump her mouth does, how tight and pleasurable it is and you can’t absolutely hold it anymore until something disturbed the force of things.

A loud pop is what you’ve heard, and you can just see Danielle stroking your messy length with the fastest velocity her wrists can muster, and it just earned more moans from you. “I’ve always wanted to do this, daddy…”

You know where this is going, lips curling up a smirk and pretending to be oblivious. “Do what, exactly?”

You can feel the familiar tingle within your groin, and it’s only a matter of seconds before the inevitable paints her white. “Add up to the mess I made myself, daddy.”

“Open wide, Dani.” She does as she's told to, releasing the grip that almost strangled your length and did it yourself. 

That sullied countenance of hers is a sight to cherish, savor every second and every detail on how messy and beautiful she has become as everything concludes down to the most important act. 

You groan and point it where it belongs, a pretty canvas painted white as every inch is possibly covered with how thick your load is. Every spurt hits the features where everyone leaves with an awe, living up to the words she let go of and you did just that. Nose, cheeks, forehead, mouth and even her neck—it’s incredibly lucky how none of your load got up to her clothing, possibly writing the script of just ruining what’s just worth defiling.

If these walls could just talk, you hope they wouldn’t say anything because you will be damned if anyone catches the both of you doing such unforgiving sin.

Her lips quiver, still kneeling down as she grips your stiff cock, stroking it leisurely and then inviting you with a gleeful smile that possibly refutes the sinful sight, faking the convincing innocence. 

Those eyes of her pleads, and there her dulcet voice goes and you know you can’t turn her requests down. “May I clean your cock, daddy?”

You cup her cheek, maintaining that eye contact as your fingers trace the cum you left onto her, and then directing it onto those soft, kissable lips of hers that’s known for an abundance of talents. It was agonizing with the way you trace her features, and she suckles onto your fingers needily like she hasn't sucked the life out of you just a minute ago. She closes her eyes, relishing and humming in satisfaction with the taste she’s longing to lay her taste buds on.

You pulled out and earned a whine, and then replied with a jovial approach. “No one’s stopping you.”

No one is, and not even herself. 

Her lips parts against your engorged tip, tongue swirling around it and tidying up the mess she made. It’s sensitive and it’s the guilty pleasure—it’s slightly making you turn on even more, pushing your limits and as well as the buttons for your lust. 

“You’re fucking gifted, Dani.”

It’s these small admirations of her actions that urges her to complacency, but giving everything that she got up her sleeve. Her mouth swirls around and it and eventually, she pulls out and stares at you, reeking that anticipation that lingering within her because she knows you’re not done with her.

Once she pulls out, she remains on her knees, and you take the opportunity to scoop out the cum that stained her heavenly-sinful face, directing it onto her mouth and cleans it repeatedly. It’s nearly cleaned up, but nowhere near the finish line as the both of you are just getting started, and you’re vocalizing your frustrations evidently yet nowhere near hostile.

“Get up, Dani.” She obliges with your command, your feet kicking the clothing and deeming it useful and the sunshine that gleams innocence brews a storm, and you know she’s ready for phase two.

“Dying to be balls deep inside me, daddy?” Of course you fucking are, and she’s just asking that to rile you up and it’s effective, cock twitching up in the air as soon as she let go of such sinful words.

She knows you, and it’s just making things worse in the right ways.

Danielle’s face is just inches away from you, and you’re just dying to get that feeling of her utter tightness. You grew impatient, controlling her lithe frame with a grab on her waist, and let herself face the wall and her arms resting on it as well. She gasps with your roughness towards her, chuckling a little as she wants this kind of treatment and she deserves it. A wiggle of her petite ass invites you to just undress her bottom half, but you would admire the hourglass figure she possesses, every inch of her curves urging you to defile the living life out of her.

You deeply adore her with all your heart, unable to hurt her but whenever she invites you to be one, you wouldn’t waste the opportunity and give in to your carnal desires.

Your hands roam to her clothed butt, feeling the softness of it and how it’s perfectly sculpted and all too right. Unable to deprive yourself of such a sight, you wrap your arms around her hips, undressing her pants and unshackling her heating slit and there it goes, all for you to feast upon.

“You promised to be rough, right, daddy?” She looks over her shoulder, tone laced with high expectations as a moans follows, feeling the cold air brush against her skin. 

“If that’s what you wanted—” The restraint is now onto her ankles, then off to somewhere in the vicinity. Your eyes meeting the last bit that conceals your grand prize, but it didn’t come without a reverberating sound that earned the sexiest moans Danielle could muster. “—I’m not thinking a single thought of giving you mercy.”

Fuck, she unleashed the monster within you, and it’s all for her to take.

It wasn’t just one, but a barrage of slaps onto her petite ass, making her writhe a little and her arms shaking with the pain and pleasure you’re treating her. You mark it red, imprinted with your hands before stopping and she whines, knowing the best is yet to be introduced. 

It was another moan that escaped her lips, and with the last bit of defense down and destined to be useless, you know she’s up for a show.

“Da—oh god, daddy!” Danielle whimpers once she feels you, going deeper and earning more moans that made her body shudder with the gratification. You plunge not too deep inside her, and immediately, you are met with an overwhelming tightness that puts you in the same boat as hers in correlation with the profanities you both voice out. You grab her hips and her waist, drawing herself closer to you as she’s barely standing on her ground with your control, and you’re just within the tip of the iceberg in terms of your pace.

You give herself a breathing space, but Danielle’s plans weren't in accordance with yours, her voice coarse yet still, surprisingly sweet that urges you for more.

“More, daddy—f-fuck me harder!” Your hips increase your velocity, the initial speed of it sending her thighs in a recoil with your harshness, drilling deeper and withdrawing repeatedly that’s enough to fuck her up, senseless. Somehow, she’s even coherent to articulate words, urging you for more and yearning for you to go deeper.

“Fuck—oh my fucking god, more—aw!”

“God, you’re just so tight, aren’t you, hm?” You’re pumping her like you’re marking up your dominance against her, and it’s fulfilled, now filling her up to the brim. You marvel with her unparalleled tightness, hugging your length like it’s suffocating it and repeatedly groaning because of it. With her repetitive pleas, comes resonating spanks that just makes her leak more of that nectar, creating that wetness that runs down in rivulets on her thighs. She’s creating puddles down onto the floor due to your own rough endeavors into her pussy, legs shaking and rippling in every thrust you do that sends her into overdrive.

You’d bet she’s seeing stars right now, the reason is stated as follows: withdrawing with just the crown inside and then slamming back into her, balls deep, just right for her to delve down onto lustful, high-pitched screams that voices the overwhelming pleasure running down her veins.

This is not great, and with a harsh spank, you retort at her and make sure she’s unable to do it again. “Quiet down, Dani—you’re gonna get us in trouble.”

If it’s ever the case, then the both of you probably are. The suspicious noises are just enough for someone outside to check out what’s with the pandemonium of noises that’s just getting too familiar. You didn’t care, to the very least, continuously pounding her tight cunt and dismissing the fact about the risky unveiling of the truth.

Danielles muffled her screams with a bite on her shirt, shutting herself up and that alone makes you ignite the carnal beast within you, testing how much she can bear.

Her legs are possibly wobbling, getting weaker with how rough you are treating her as every clash of your bodies results in an addition to the symphony of moans, an ocean worth swimming in if it means your ears to get blessed.

You surely are, and you’re at the top of the world because of it. 

“God—this pussy—” You groan, spanking her and then lean on to kiss her neck, your tongue nibbling onto the pristine, milky skin as your weight gives her reasons to be dangerously precarious. “—is just phenomenal. This will always be mine.”

You marked up your territory, and Danielle knows who owns her heat, and it’s up for you to ignite it. The kiss was ephemeral, hurting her because she wanted to feel your lips longer against her neck but she’s just grateful that you’re still ruining and impaling her up to the hilt with your length. Your hands run its way back to her hips, and immediately continue with a consistent pace that inches her closer to her own high.

With the way she’s leaking like a faucet around your rapid length, you know it wouldn’t be long until she reaches euphoria.

“C-Close, daddy—so fucking close—you’re fucking m-me so, so good!” Danielle’s clearly enjoying this, and with her compliments comes your own fulfilling reply. You kept fucking her cunt like it’s going to be your last, every thrusts your hips muster clashes against her skin that accentuates roughness. 

“Please d-don’t stop fucking me—please, please!” She’s lost in the blissful trance, lust and desperation taking over as gone is her innocent image, truly in the depth and unable to go back up. You did what she pleaded as her juices coats your length in all angles, even adding up onto the puddle onto the floor and wetting down her thighs. Her knees shake, arms flailing with the impact her orgasm brings her, but you didn’t stop and fucked her through it, being in the same boat as hers—lost in the trance.

Her walls clench around you and it earns that primal roar out of you, her tightness aiding to the pleasure you’re also experiencing. You’re just cognizant with the fact that her expression probably concludes into the epitome of ecstasy, and all-throughout cockdrunked with your own reckoning. Wanting another angle to savor how her walls feel, you pull out of her and she immediately whines, asking why would you do such a thing.

“No, d-daddy—no, please, put it b-bcack in—”

“I will.” You grab her wrists and her hips, turning her around to face you and given her small figure, it wasn’t a challenge to control her. “I just wanna see your beautiful face while I ruin you again—make you cum again.”

With your strength, you squat down to inch your arms under her thighs, and immediately lifted her like it’s nothing, and with her swift recovery, her senses became aware and directed your throbbing cock inside her tightness again. She yelps and involuntarily holds onto your arms and neck, supporting her frame and continues to stare at your eyes, glistening with lust.

Her back is pressed against the wall as you thrust upwards, not even starting off slow and introducing a harsh pace, like what she wanted all along. “God, I could fuck you like this all day, Dani—god, you’re hot.”

With the way her abs flex in every thrust you do steals your attention towards it. Maybe her workouts at the gym are worth something more than what she always loves to do, and you admire how toned and perfect it is in every angle. Her supple frame and her flexible legs makes it easier to drill deeper into her cunt, uttering the sultriest and hottest moans by Danielle. With this profound angle, you’re in total domination all over her, controlling her as she gives in to you, trusting you on how you’ll ruin her with care. 

“God, daddy—you’re fucking me way too good!” It’s just the deepest primal instincts within her that’s commending the way you’re treating her, and you love every word laced within it. You continue to hammer her upwards, feeling her tightness enveloping you again as her hands find a leverage to hold on but are unsuccessful knowing it’s just a wall behind her. 

Your lips then smashes against hers, wanting to increase the libido within you as the clash is something lingering with need and hunger. Both of your lips add up to the erotic soundtrack that’s composed out of spite, filling and permeating the room with the sounds of sex and nothing more. 

You’re not going to lie, the shirt that accentuated her figure is just the perfect example of a nuisance, and Danielle hurriedly undresses it, revealing those perky tits with a white bra clasped around it. She’s just too hot to bear, and a perfect candidate to be ruined and you’re proving why she lives up to that position. She threw the shirt onto the bed beside, and continued to rest her arms onto your shoulders, then resumed her moans as it became erratic once you suckled onto her neck, inhaling the scent that you always love.

“I can’t believe h-how much of slut you are for my cock, honestly.” Even if she retaliates for a reason, she can’t deny the truth as your length turns her into a new person, consumed with lust and following you like a leash. She can’t utter a response, not when she’s being pounded into oblivion and another high inching closer towards her.

“I can’t daddy—too good! Too good!!” Her exclamations are the voices of her lustful nature, she’s possibly built just to say the same sets of words once you’ve plunged everything inside her. The cluster of the same moans and pleas escapes her lips, and you know she’s set for another blissful  climax and it’s all thanks to you.

Maybe the walls weren’t so opaque to shackle what’s behind, unveiling the secretive assault towards Danielle and you didn’t care—you’re chasing towards the promised land, to set foot there and get lost within that hill.

“Gonna cum, da—” She’s cut, and then, she releases.

Nectar seeps out to the edge of the crevices, forming rivulets and spasms that’s felt in her body, magnitudes unlocking new heights of delight as you fuck her through it, knowing your hopping onto the same boat as hers.

All things are destined to an end, and you want a conclusion worthy to paint something remarkable for the both of you.

“Outside, p-please—cum for me, daddy—” You’re still carrying her while the pleas register within you, burying your shaft and immobilizing your thrusts while coursing your way towards the bed. You throw her, not enough to hurt her but enough to hear an audible thud as you pull out, and eyeing her figure with such hunger that fueled you for another release.

“I’m gonna fucking paint that tight waist of yours, Dani.” You stroke your cock with a breakneck pace, an identical event like earlier as she invites you, her tone crumbling down your walls and building up another reward you’re eager to give.

“Then paint it, daddy—ruin me.” It’s simple yet so hot that you can’t fathom how she’s able to choose words that could fuck up the way you’re thinking. She’s embracing the eventual rain of another hot load, closing her eyes and you could count to five and not make it past three—

Then, it comes.

You aim towards her slim waist, showering the abs with numerous spurts that can rival your first one, multiple shots earning moans from your lips due to how euphoric she made you. You lick your lips, hands wringing out the pleasure and prolonging and eventually, it subsides down for you to admire the fruits of your labor—a work specifically painted meticulously, done and worked on a canvas that’s sprayed white.

Her chest heaves up and down due to the exasperating session and roughness you bestowed, but looking into her eyes, there’s no glint of regret and just grateful you’re able to show who you really are.

“God, you fucked me so well, daddy…”

Your breaths are ragged, your cock getting flaccid as Danielle still has the power to stand on her wobbly legs, your cum running down her porcelain skin and her hands finding its way onto your beast, still urging for something more.

“All for—argh—you, Dani—all for you, god…” The sensitivity skyrockets, but it doesn’t matter, not when you’re finding her lips again, exchanging torrid and intimate kisses.

As you’re about to find your way onto the fine plane of her spine, and towards her ass, a heavy set of knocks baffles the both of you, and it’s fucked up 

“Dani, why are you taking so long right there? Hello, are you there with him? What are the both of you doing??” It’s a familiar voice and your senses are heightened, and with an anxious look, Danielle reassures you and shouted words that would possibly assure the girl that everything’s fine.

“Hanni’s gonna kill me, Dani—”

“Shhh…” Her fingers meet your lips, muting you for more advances that won’t help the situation. You help her clean up with the tissue that’s on her desk and hurriedly dress yourselves up, looking presentable as much as possible. “It’s fine—nothing’s going the wrong way, daddy.”

You’re living your life on the edge, and you would be damned for dear life if Hanni unveils the truth yet Danielle’s golden personality outshines that and it’s only a matter of time before she puts those onto the test.

You can end up on both roads of besmirchment, that expected disappointment from Hanni or a surprising turn of acceptance but one thing’s for sure: you achieved what the both of you wanted, and that concludes up onto a triumphant note, all wins and no losses.

[nevernonline]

✧.* heartbreak girl; csc one shot.

synopsis: Seungcheol struggles with his feelings for his best friend, y/n, who is caught in a complicated relationship. As he watches her suffer from heartbreak, he finds it increasingly difficult to conceal his love for her.

paring: seungcheol x fem! reader. 

genre:friends2lovers

warning/s:mentions of substances (alcohol) some minor sexy stuff, but not much really.

word count: 8.6k

content: . non-idol idolings, big brother Joshua. asshole boyfriends yk. Cheol is painfully in love.

note: non edited prob weird typos, xo.

Seungcheol stood outside the bustling café, the familiar sound of laughter and chatter spilling through the door like an intoxicating aroma. He had been meaning to meet his friends here for a while, but his heart wasn’t in it tonight. Instead, it felt heavy, aching at the thought of her—Y/n, his best friend and the girl who had unknowingly stolen his heart.

They had grown up together, their lives intertwined like the branches of the old oak tree that sat as the bridge between their childhood bedrooms. Seungcheol had always been protective of y/n, watching from the sidelines as she navigated the ups and downs of her life. But just recently, something had shifted between them, a current of unspoken words and emotions that neither dared to acknowledge.

He pushed open the door and made his way through the crowd, scanning the room until his eyes landed on her. Y/n sat at a corner table, her hair cascading over her shoulders, lost in conversation with another friend. But Seungcheol could see it in her eyes—the flicker of worry, the slight downturn of her lips. He knew her better than anyone, and lately, she had seemed off.

His heart raced as he approached the table, steeling himself for the inevitable conversation. “Hey, Soojin, Y/n.” he greeted, forcing a smile despite the turmoil brewing inside him.

“Seungcheol! You made it!” Y/n exclaimed, the warmth of her voice wrapping around him like a comfort blanket. But as her expression shifted to one of concern, he could see the cracks behind her cheerful facade.

“You okay?” he asked, unable to hide the worry in his own voice.

“Yeah, just... a lot going on,” she said, brushing it off. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

Seungcheol glanced at her friend, who seemed to sense the underlying tension and quickly excused herself. The moment of solitude felt charged, and Seungcheol knew they needed to talk.

“Listen, if something’s bothering you, you can tell me,” he urged, leaning forward. “I’m your friend, Bunny. I want to help.”

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “It’s just... Alex,  dating has been, and it’s... complicated. I think he might be seeing someone else.”

Seungcheol remembered when Y/n first started dating her current partner, he was alright, nothing special compared to the girl who was standing in front of him. 

past

When he first met y/n boyfriend she had just gotten back from college for the weekend as Seungcheol stepped onto her front lawn waiting inside patiently next to y/n’s brother Joshua, he was considering running down the sidewalk to her when a guy appeared out of the front seat to hug her mother. It was in a flash of a moment he knew this guy was her boyfriend. 

Seungcheol's heart sank, but he tried impossible hard to maintain a composed exterior. He forced a smile and greeted y/n with a wave as she approached, her boyfriend trailing beside her. Joshua nudged Seungcheol gently, giving him an encouraging nod.

"Hey, Seungcheol!" y/n called out, her voice filled with genuine warmth. "It's so good to see you!"

"Good to see you too, Bunny," Seungcheol replied, his voice steady. "How is school, my little scholar?"

"It’s been great, but I’ve missed home, especially your mom’s cooking," she said, glancing at her boyfriend. "Oh, Shit. I should introduce you! This is Alex."

Alex extended a hand towards Seungcheol. "Nice to meet you, man."

"Nice to meet you too," Seungcheol said, shaking his hand firmly. He noticed how Alex's grip was strong but not overbearing, a sign of confidence and respect.

The four of them stood there for a moment, the air filled with unspoken words. Joshua, sensing the tension, quickly suggested, "Why don't we all head inside? Mom made us some lemonade. Feel free to spike it yourself."

Of course they all agreed, and as they walked towards the house, Seungcheol couldn't help but steal a glance at y/n. She seemed happy, and that was what mattered most to him, even if it meant watching from the sidelines.

Inside, the house was filled with the comforting aroma of freshly squeezed lemon, probably just a room spray her mom thought would make her lemonade pop more, which helped make Cheol smile even more. y/n's mother greeted them with a warm smile, her eyes twinkling with joy at having her two kids home. The group settled into the cozy living room, the atmosphere gradually easing into one of laughter and shared stories.

Seungcheol listened intently, contributing when he could, but mostly observing the dynamics between y/n and Alex. He noticed the small gestures of affection, the way they seemed to understand each other with just a glance. It was clear they shared a deep connection.

As the evening wore on, Seungcheol felt a mix of emotions. There was an undeniable pang of that little green monster creeping in, but also a sense of acceptance. He realized that y/n's happiness was the most important thing, and if Alex was the one who brought that to her, then he would do his best to support her wholeheartedly.

Later, after many sneaks to Joshua’s hidden liquor, too many slices of pizza, and card games, they all stood on the porch saying their goodbyes, y/n gave Seungcheol a tight hug. "It really is good to see you, Seungcheol. Don't be a stranger, okay?"

"I won't," he promised, his voice sincere. "Take care of yourself, y/n."

“You know I always do,” she gripped onto his sweatshirt sleeve, and flashed her award winning smile his way, “And if I find myself in need of a body guard I’ll be sure to call you.” 

With one last wave, Seungcheol watched as she and Alex walked down the driveway, hand in hand. He sighed softly, turning to Joshua who gave him a sympathetic look.

"Come on," Joshua said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Let's go get a beer, bro. My treat."

Seungcheol nodded, grateful for Joshua's friendship. As they walked away, he couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope. Life had a way of surprising you, and he knew that his story was far from over.

A few months had passed now and finally the  sun was shining brightly as their friend group gathered around the picnic table, laughter and chatter filling the air. Plates of food were being passed around, and the aroma of grilled meat wafted through the garden. Which sure, sounded a little gross, but it was just another sign of the changing of seasons, but not the changing of where his heart was gravitating. Y/N was in her element, flitting from one group to another, her energy infectious.

Seungcheol watched her from a distance, like he usually would, holding a fond smile on his lips. He couldn't help but marvel at how effortlessly she brought people together, how her presence seemed to light up even the most simple of places.

"Hey, earth to Idiot!" Y/N's voice broke through his daydream. She was standing in front of him, hands on her hips and a playful glint in her eyes. "Are you ready for our trip tomorrow?"

He grinned, nodding enthusiastically. "Of course. Wouldn't miss it for the world."

"I knew you’d never disappoint me!" she exclaimed, her smile widening. "It's going to be the best one yet, I can feel it. Something about the smell of the rain this year tells my heart the flowers will be perfect.”

Seungcheol chuckled, captivated by her excitement. "You and your weird as fuck sixth sense about flowers," he teased gently.

She punched him playfully. "Hey, don't underestimate my flower intuition. It's never wrong. It’s like how you always can for some reason tell how many people got a draft beer before you based on some fucked up freshness level you created. I mean we could always take a bet and see who everyone thinks is more insane.” 

As the evening wore on, they continued to chat and laugh, the anticipation for their trip growing with each passing moment. The backyard was now filled with the soft glow of fairy lights, casting a magical ambiance over the gathering. And Seuncheol was still sitting with Y/n listening to her talk on and on about her new weird interests. 

"Remember the first time we went on this trip?" Y/N asked, her gaze distant as she reminisced. "We got lost for hours, and you were so convinced that we were going to get mauled by a bear or a cougar or something?” 

“We didn’t have gas or cell service. I feel like it was a fair assumption to make.” Seungcheol smiled, feeling slightly embarrassed  remembering how he embarrassed himself around her even though he’s sure there were worse incidents. 

“But, we were at a reststop.” 

“But it was pouring rain, y/n. Come on.” 

“Fine, I’ll let you have it,” she ruffled her pretty hands through his hair “I still think you’re silly.” 

“You’re always so mean to me, when I do everything for you.” 

“It’s just so easy.” 

“By the way,” Seungcheol rubbed his slightly sweaty palms on his jeans, “Where’s Alex this weekend?” 

“Uh,” Y/n gave him a soft smile that he wasn’t so convinced was real, “With his parents in Antigua I think? Not sure, some weird beach vacation. Sounds boring.” 

Seungcheol raised an eyebrow, sensing the underlying tension in Y/n's tone. “Antigua, huh? Must be nice,” he replied, his voice deliberately casual, though he couldn't help the hint of envy creeping in. 

Y/n shrugged, her smile flickering momentarily. “Yeah, I guess. But honestly, I’d much rather be here, hanging out with you guys. This is way more fun. And don’t tell Josh, but I miss seeing him every day.”

“Seriously?” Seungcheol asked. “I mean, it’s a tropical paradise, and you’d choose me and your brother over that?”

“Absolutely,” she said, her gaze meeting him with sincerity. “Why would I want to be stuck on a beach when I could be here, laughing and just… being ourselves? This is way more my style.”

Her words warmed him, but a knot of unease tightened in his stomach. “So, no Alex for the weekend, then,” he said, trying to keep his tone light. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

Y/n bit her lip, a flicker of thought crossing her face. “Honestly, I don’t know. I guess it’s a bit of both? It’s nice to have some time to myself. But… you know how it is.” She trailed off, her eyes drifting away as if contemplating something deeper.

“Yeah, I do. Relationships can be complicated,” Seungcheol replied, his heart racing at the opportunity. “If you ever need to talk about anything, I’m here for you. You know that, right?”

She turned back to him, and her expression softened. “Thanks, Seungcheol. That means a lot.”

As the evening wore on, Seungcheol found himself lost in conversations with old friends and making new ones. The atmosphere was warm and inviting, a perfect reflection of Y/N's spirit.

Later, as the stars began to twinkle in the night sky, Seungcheol and Y/N found themselves talking through their open childhood bedroom windows. 

"Thanks for always being there, Seungcheol," Y/N said softly, her gaze fixed on picking at her nails..

He watched her, his heart swelling with affection. "Always, Y/N. That's what friends are for."

She leaned her head on her hand, and they stared at each other, both hoping that no matter where life took them, they would always have each other.

At that moment, Seungcheol realized that sometimes, the most beautiful places were the ones you were at with the people you cared about the most.

As Seungcheol sat in his dimly lit room, the flickering glow of the y/n’s Scooby-Doo night light shone in his window, transporting him back to the warmth of Y/n’s presence. He could picture her room perfectly: the walls adorned with posters of their favorite shows, remnants of their laughter still hanging in the air. It had always been a haven for her—a place where her dreams intertwined and her deepest secrets were shared.

Years passed quickly, and that cherished tradition of celebrating their friendship had drifted away like fall leaves caught in a breeze. Life took them in separate directions, and despite the countless apologies Y/n sent his way, Seungcheol could never quite shake the feeling of loss. He always believed that she knew how much those moments meant to him; her absence felt like a missing piece of his heart that was waiting to be filled.

While he tried to move on, dating a variety of girls who were kind and entertaining, none of them were Y/n. He often found himself comparing their laughter to hers, their quirks to the little things he cherished about her. It felt like an act of treason against the relationships he pursued, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop the old feelings from creeping back into his heart.

As he reflected on it all, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. Why couldn't he just let go? It was foolish to cling to a childhood crush on your best friend's little sister that seemed to grow more distant by the day. But deep down, he sensed that what he felt for Y/n was something more profound than a simple infatuation. She was his first crush, someone he confided in, and the keeper of so many memories that covered his soul with nostalgia and warmth.

It was during one of those restless nights, when the weight of her absence pressed heavily on his chest, that he made a decision. Seungcheol had to  reach out to Y/n. No more waiting for the right moment or hoping for a chance meeting. He needed to tell her how he felt, how much he still cared, and how he longed for the connection they once shared.

Building up his courage the moment turned into an eternity as he waited, and just as doubt began to creep in, his phone buzzed, it was her calling him as if he had manifested catching up with her. 

Seungcheol's heart raced as he saw Y/n's name flash across the screen. Just the sight of it sent a jolt of anxiety through him, he pushed it down and tried to take it as a reminder of all the times they had spent together, laughing until their sides hurt or sharing secrets late into the night, almost like excitement. He hesitated for a moment, his thumb hovering over the accept button, uncertainty warring with excitement. 

But before he could overthink it any longer, he pressed "accept" and set his phone to the speaker. “Y/n?”

“Cheol!” Her voice was bright, and it ignited something deep within him—an undeniable longing. “I can’t believe I finally caught you. I’ve missed you so much, sorry for the phone tag, I have been so fucking busy. 

“I’ve missed you too,” he replied, his voice steadier than he felt. “It’s been way too long. I was just thinking about texting you when you called.”

“I feel bad for not making it home to see you lately,” she admitted, a hint of regret in her tone. “But.. uh, I’d love to fix that. How about we get together this weekend, like we used to? Maybe invite Soojin? Joshua?” 

“Let’s do it.” A smile spread across his face. “We can go to that bar we used to sneak into and catch a show legally now?” 

“Sounds perfect. Do me a favor?” she said, genuine enthusiasm shining through her words.

“Yes?” he waiting on the other end of the line hearing her giggling slightly to herself. 

“Wear that old Sonic Youth t-shirt you have?” 

“Why would I wear that?” 

“Not sure. I just like that t-shirt. Please?” 

Seungcheol’s heart swelled at the thought of being with her again, but he also felt the weight of unresolved feelings pressing on him. They’d both changed, but would the bond they shared still resonate the same way? Would she see him as just her brother’s friend or as something more?

As they continued to chat, Seungcheol tried to gauge her tone, the way she spoke about her life, the little nuances that indicated where she stood. Y/n spoke about college, her friends, and of course Alex.Her enthusiasm was infectious. But every laugh pulled him further back into the past, to the innocent moments when everything had felt so uncomplicated.

“Hey, Y/n,” he ventured, his heart beating a little faster as he gathered his thoughts. “I’ve been meaning to ask… How are you handling everything? I know things have changed for both of us.”

Y/n paused, and he could almost hear her brain processing the question. “Honestly? It’s been a bit of a whirlwind. I’m still figuring things out, but having people around who care makes it easier.”

“Yeah, I feel that,” he said, wishing he could just lay bare his feelings, let his heart spill out the way they used to share their secrets. “You know, I’ve always been here if you need someone to talk to.”

Her voice softened, and he could sense the shift in the conversation. “I know, and I appreciate that, Cheol. You’ve always been there for me, just like… well, I cant think of something always there for something else, but you get it..”

They fell into a comfortable rhythm again, but as the call slowly wound down, Seungcheol felt a flicker of resolve.

As they said their goodbyes, he heard Y/n’s voice resonate with warmth, and for a moment, the distance between them felt almost non-existent. “See you this weekend, okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m looking forward to it,” Seungcheol replied, his heart racing at the endless possibilities that lay ahead. 

Closing his phone, he let out a deep breath, a smile breaking across his face. The connection he had yearned for was just around the corner, and as he lay back on his bed, he knew that this time, he wouldn’t hold back. 

present:

His heart sank at the words, a wave of frustration washing over him. “You deserve so much better than that,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. “Don’t let anyone treat you like you’re not worth it. How do you know he’s cheating on you?

Y/n took a shaky breath, the anguish evident in her expression. “I’ve seen the signs—the late nights, the changing passwords, the way he ducks away when I try to talk about us.” She paused, her voice cracking slightly. “I just feel it deep inside, like this gnawing instinct that something isn’t right.”

Seungcheol felt his protectiveness swell within him. The thought of anyone treating her poorly made his blood boil. “Those signs aren’t just coincidence, Y/n. People shouldn’t make you second-guess yourself like that.”

She looked down, her fingers tracing the patterns on her jeans. “I don’t want to jump to conclusions, but the more I try to brush it aside, the more it eats away at me. I just wish I had the strength to confront him.” 

“You do have that strength,” he urged, leaning closer, wanting to make eye contact to convey just how serious he was. “You’re stronger than you think. No one should keep you in the dark or make you feel like you have to doubt yourself. But if you need my help or anyone elses you know you can ask us right? You don’t have to fight it alone. Is that why you’ve been avoiding us lately?” 

“Yeah and I’m sorry I’m embarrassed. But what if I’m wrong? What if I confront him and it turns out I’m just being paranoid?” A single tear slipped down her cheek, and she wiped it away in frustration, the vulnerability on display pulling sharply at Seungcheol’s heart.

“Y/n, you’re not paranoid; you’re being cautious. People should earn your trust, not break it. If he really cared about you, he’d be open and honest, not leave you guessing.” Seungcheol felt a surge of emotion, desperately wanting to help her see the truth. “You have every right to bring up your concerns. If he reacts poorly, that’s a huge huge fucking red flag.”

She nodded slowly, another tear escaping despite her efforts to contain them. “I just don’t want to lose more than what I already feel like I’ve lost.. I just don’t know what to do, I guess. I’m sorry I’m ruining our fun.”

At that moment, Seungcheol couldn’t help but reach out, gently cupping her chin with his fingers so she would look up at him. “You are never ruining our fun, by telling us how you feel. Remember, you’re the one who deserves to be valued, not just by him, but by everyone in your life, especially those who say they love you.”

Their eyes locked, and he felt a change in the air around them—a connection that transcended the conversation that was sinking like a stone. “You deserve love that lifts you up, that makes you feel secure. Not a relationship that makes you doubt your worth and changes your life poorly.”

“Cheol…” she started, but he could see the struggle in her eyes, the facade of strength crumbling as the truth sunk in. She was scared, scared of the possibilities, but perhaps also scared of how much this all mattered to her.

“I’ll be right here with you, no matter what happens,” he promised, his voice steady despite the tumultuous emotions swirling inside him. “We’ll figure this out together. You don’t have to face any of it alone.” 

Y/n's expression softened, and the tension in her shoulders eased just a little. “Thank you. It just helps to know someone cares I guess.” 

Seungcheol nodded, yearning to break through the last barriers between them. “I’ve always cared for you, Y/n. Always. And I’ll keep caring, no matter what.” Even as those words left his mouth, he felt a weight in his chest—he wanted her to see just how much more she meant to him than mere friendship, but the time for that would come later. Right now, she needed a friend in her corner, and he would be that friend, no matter what. “Should we have a drink now?” 

She smiled at him again, giving him a side hug. “Yes, maybe some shots too?” 

Seungcheol immediately got to his feet and winked as he bee-lined for the bar standing next to Joshua and Soojin, filling them in on his conversation with y/n. The three of them didn’t mention it the rest of the night, but just made sure to give her the best time dancing and forgetting about her shitty relationship issues before the alcohol settled in her system too much and Cheol had to carry her home. 

Joshua unlocked their front door and slid into the house quietly rushing in the three other party goers in hopes not to wake his mom up considering it was a work night. 

Y/n brother pulled her shoes off and rested them at the front door, basically begging Seungcheol to carry her up to her bedroom so he could go get Soojin some pajamas and change his sheets for her in his room which Cheol obliged being the most sober. 

As he was carrying his friend to bed she looked up at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “I know I’m drunk, but I don’t want to get my hopes up only to be disappointed again. I just... feel so lost.”

Seungcheol felt a pang of concern as he adjusted his grip on her, his heart aching at the vulnerability etched across Y/n's face. He knew the night had been a whirlwind—filled with laughter, dancing, and fleeting moments of joy—but now, as he carried her up the stairs, her honesty pierced through the haze of alcohol.

“Hey,” he said softly, trying to keep his voice steady and reassuring. “It’s okay to feel lost. You’ve been through a lot. But just remember, you have lots of people riding for you. 

Y/n blinked slowly, her features wavering as she processed his words. “I don’t want to burden you,” she admitted, almost whispering. “I don’t want you to be sad because of me.

Seungcheol paused just outside her bedroom door, carefully shifting her weight so she wasn't too uncomfortable. “You’re not a burden, Y/n. Friends support each other. That’s what we do.”

Her lips trembled slightly, and she looked down, tears pooling in her eyes. “I just... I wish I could see things clearly. I want to believe it’ll get better, but I’m scared it won’t.” 

He took a deep breath, choosing his buzzed words carefully. “It’s natural to feel scared. Change is intimidating, especially when it comes to relationships that have been so significant in your life. But that doesn’t mean you can’t start taking the steps to find what you really deserve. Like we talked about earlier. You’re worth that big true love, Y/n, even if you can’t see it just yet.”

Looking into her eyes, he noticed the flicker of hope battling against the weight of her sorrow. “You deserve to feel loved, celebrated and so fucking cherished, not just tolerated. And trust me,” he added, trying to inject a touch of warmth into his words, “the right person will come along, maybe they already have. You’re incredible.”

Y/n’s gaze held onto his, searching for truth in his words. “Do you really think so?” 

“Yes, loser,” he affirmed, nodding. “I’ve been singing your praises for years, remember I did write a letter to Harry Styles trying to get him to go out with you when he was still on X-Factor so until that person comes along, I’m right here.” He started moving again, gently pushing the door open with his knee.

As he stepped inside, he carefully laid her onto the bed, her comfort a priority in the quiet space. “Just rest for now. Tomorrow is a new day. You don’t have to worry about anything tonight. Just let it go.”

She looked up at him, her expression softening as the corners of her mouth edged toward a small smile. “Thanks, CheolieI don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’ll never have to find out,” he assured her, tucking the blanket around her. “You’re stuck with me now.” He grinned, feeling the lightness of the moment wash over them, dispelling some of the heavy emotions lingering in the air.

She laughed softly, a sound that melted some of the tension from his chest. “Okay, but just for tonight! Tomorrow, I’ll have to start figuring things out. And can you do me one more incredibly annoying awkward favor that we never have to speak of again?” 

“Deal,” he replied playfully. “Depending on how embarrassing it is?” 

“Can you help me put on my pajamas? Or at least unbutton my shirt for me, I’m so warm and too drunk to care right now.” 

Seungcheol’s eyes widened in surprise, but he quickly masked his shock with a teasing grin. “Wow, is y/n too drunk to get undressed herself, it’s bringing me back to when you had your senior party.”

Y/n shrugged, her cheeks slightly flushed from the alcohol and the sudden vulnerability of the moment. “I’m serious! I can’t get the buttons right now,” she grumbled, a laugh escaping her lips as she realized just how ridiculous the request was.

“Shut up, it’s fine.” he said, trying to maintain the playful spirit of the moment while also respecting her boundaries. “But you have to promise me you won’t regret this in the morning.”

“How could anyone regret that the night star football player and homecoming king four years running Choi Seungcheol took their clothes off?” she replied with a slight smirk. “Can we actually stop fucking around though and  focus on getting me comfy so I can pass out without feeling like I’m wearing a fucking straightjacket.”

“Didn’t know you thought so highly of me,” he smirked back, trying to suppress his nervousness. Carefully, he shifted to sit beside her on the edge of the bed, ensuring he kept the atmosphere light and respectful. “I’ll work my special magic.”

He helped her sit up and, taking a deep breath, gently began unbuttoning her shirt. With each button he opened, he focused on keeping his movements steady and casual,trying not to touch inappropriately whatsoever,  stealing glances at her face rather than her torso. “See, I’m not so bad at this, right? Even being out of practice.” he joked, trying to ease any tension in the air. 

Y/n chuckled softly, her laughter lightening the mood. “Yeah, you’re doing great. Just stop making it weird.”

“Me? Make it weird? Psh.” he teased back, his heart racing slightly as he continued, relieved that her demeanor was playful. As the last button came undone, he carefully helped her shrug the shirt off, revealing a soft bra top underneath. 

“You literally just confessed to not getting laid in a long time, weirdo. Too much information.” 

“God, shut up, I did not” he said, letting out a sigh of relief as he set the shirt aside. “Mission accomplished.. But it’s a good look, just so you know.”

“You’re just buttering me up to make me forget this moment, Cheol,” she replied, a mischievous glint in her eyes despite her slightly vulnerable state.

“Wouldn’t dream of it! This moment is going straight into the  archives as ‘That Time I Helped Y/n Get Ready for Bed,” he said, crossing his arms defiantly.

Y/n giggled, shaking her head. “You’re ridiculous. 

Seungcheol felt warmth radiate in his chest at her words. “And you’re worse,” he said genuinely, his smile softening. “Now get some rest, cutie. I’ll be right downstairs if you need anything else.” 

“You can stay here if you want? Joshua is sleeping on the couch because Soojin’s in his room.” 

“Oh, uh. I’ll be alright on the floor downstairs. You get some sleep okay?” 

“Goodnight, Cheolie,” she whispered, nearly missing him calling her an affectionate name, her eyes fluttering shut as the warmth of sleep began to envelop her.

“Goodnight, Bunny.” He watched her peaceful expression for a moment, then stood up from the edge of her bed and made his way to the door, feeling a strange mix of emotions. On one hand, he felt pride in being there for her, but a flicker of longing stirred inside him, reminding him of how much he truly fell in love with her.

As he stepped out into the hallway, he leaned against the wall, contemplating going back in there and comforting  her for the night but also how it could affect their friendship and the feelings that lingered just below the surface. Tonight wasn't just another night; it felt like a turning point. Seungcheol had no idea where it would ultimately lead, but for now, he was grateful to be her anchor, even in the midst of uncertainty.

The next morning rolled in like a thunder cloud for y/n, she remembered walking home, but not much after that. She sat up under her pink fuzzy blanket in nothing other than her bra and skirt she had on the night before, her hair smooshed up on the back of her head like a pancake. 

She couldn’t remember how she had gotten there but whoever took her upstairs left a glass of water on the nightstand and two tylenol. She smiled, grateful people have always looked out for her like this. Downing the two white pills and the entire glass of water she shot up and headed for the bathroom, walking in non- chalantly thinking nobody was behind the white door. As she turned the knob a voice came ringing in her ears. 

“Josh I told you- Oh,” Seungcheol was shirtless with nothing but his wet hair cascading down his face and his towel wrapped around his body parts.” Y/n sorry.. I was just uh.. Finished.” 

She slapped her hands over her eyes whispering a sorry and running back into her room, feeling a blush hit her cheeks. 

Y/n's heart raced as she slammed the bathroom door shut and ran down the hall slamming her bedroom door shut her back against it, her mind swirling with embarrassment. She could practically feel the heat radiating from her cheeks as she replayed the scene in her head. How had she not realized Seungcheol was right there? 

After taking a moment to collect herself, she peeked out through her fingers, her heart still pounding. “No, no, no. Why did I have to walk in like that?” she muttered under her breath, doing her best to calm the embarrassment bubbling up inside her. She could still picture Seungcheol’s surprised expression, 

With a deep breath, she reminded herself to take it easy. “You’re both adults.And your friends like it, it's fine.  Mistakes happen,” she whispered, trying to rationalize the embarrassment.

Y/n slowly shuffled back to her bed and flopped down face-first into her pillow, groaning. “Why is this my life?” she lamented silently, wanting to sink into the depths of her blankets and hide from the world altogether.

After a couple of minutes spent wallowing in her own pity, she finally sat up and took stock of the situation. She had to laugh at herself; if anyone could handle a little awkwardness, it was definitely Seungcheol.

With newfound resolve, she decided to brush off the incident. After all, she couldn’t stay cooped up in her room forever, and eventually, she would have to interact with him. 

Rubbing her eyes, she stood up, her body still feeling a bit wobbly from the residual effects of last night. She padded over to her wardrobe and found a comfy oversized sweatshirt and a pair of pajama shorts to throw on. Just as she was finishing zipping up the  sweatshirt, her door creaked open, and she heard Seungcheol’s voice. 

“Uh... hey, Y/n?” 

She froze, heart racing at the thought of confronting him after their embarrassing encounter. “Y-yeah?” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady. 

“I just wanted to check if you were okay. I heard you might have had a bit too much fun last night,” he said, his tone laced with gentle teasing but lacking the usual bravado. 

Y/n felt her cheeks warm again, but she twisted the moment into playful sarcasm. “Yeah, I clearly have my life together. Who wouldn’t want to walk into a bathroom with a half-naked guy?” 

His laughter echoed, and she couldn’t help but smile despite herself. “Well, I wasn’t exactly expecting a guest, either.”

“So, uh, thanks for... you know, taking care of me last night.”

“Of course,” he said softly, his voice filled with sincerity. “I’ll help you with whatever.” 

She nodded, feeling a warmth spread through her chest at his words. “Yeah, but still! I really appreciate it.” 

Seungcheol’s smile faded slightly, replaced with an earnest expression as he leaned against the doorframe. “Y/n,It’s not a big deal. I’ve been doing it for years, I don’t mind.” 

She bit her lip, feeling that familiar flutter in her stomach at the intensity of his gaze and the sincerity behind it. “For real, Cheol. Thanks. I mean it. Just accept the sincerity.” 

“Alright, alright,” he said, breaking the moment by giving her a grin, “Want to get some breakfast or something? I’ll whip us up something..” 

“That sounds great,” she agreed, “But, I actually have something I need to go do today. How about I see you later? A movie or something maybe?” 

“Yeah, you know where to find me.” 

“Of course.” 

If today was going to be the most awkward day of her life, fine. She could handle it. Now arming herself with coffee, she had the feeling it was going to turn out just fine.What started with a flustered memory could lead to deeper conversations, and maybe even something more. First she had to confront Alex about his infidelity and then she can go back to these thoughts. Still, she giggled to herself as she thought about it—this was definitely going to be a morning they’d both remember.

Y/n parked her car in front of Alex’s apartment complex, her whole drive here she made up fake conversations to have with him in her head some of her intrusive thoughts started to get to her as she imagined much more crazy ways of how to confront him, but she knew she’d cry. She knew how hard it would be for her no matter what his answer was, yes or no, but she had to do it. 

Somehow she knew either way that she may be grateful it gave her the courage to break up with him in general. 

Getting out of the car, Y/n felt a mix of determination and fear. The weight of unresolved emotions pressed down on her chest as her shoes tapped against the pavement. She took a moment to inhale deeply, trying to steal a bit of calm before walking through the threshold that would dictate the direction of her life. She climbed the few steps to Alex’s building and pressed the intercom buzzer.

After a few moments, a crackling voice came through. “Who is it?” 

“It’s Y/n,” she replied, her voice steadier than she felt.

“Y/n? Oh, hey babe.! Come on up!” The excitement in his tone gave her a strange mix of hope and dread. Would he be as cheerful when they talked about the mess that had unfolded? 

When she reached his door, she hesitated, heart racing. Did she really want to do this? But even as the question surfaced, she felt the guilt gnawing at her. She owed it to herself.

Gathering her courage, she knocked. After a moment, the door swung open, and Alex stood there, looking casually handsome in a simple tee and jeans, a wide smile on his face. “Hey baby, It’s so good to see you. I thought you were hanging with your brother this weekend?” 

“Hey,” she replied, forcing a smile, even as her stomach churned. “Can we talk?”

“Yeah of course. Come in,” he said, stepping aside to let her through. As she entered, a rush of familiarity enveloped her—his scent, the slight clutter that was reminiscent of their time together. It should have felt comforting, but instead, it ignited a sense of dread.

She followed him into the living room, where the remnants of his gaming session littered the floor. The sight pulled at her heartstrings—how many times had they shared moments in this space? But those memories felt crushed by the deceit that loomed over them now.

“Wanna drink something? I just made coffee.” he offered, heading toward the kitchen.

“No, I’m okay, thanks.” Y/n tucked her hair into the back of her sweatshirt, feeling uncharacteristically fidgety. “Alex, I really just need to talk.”

“What’s on your mind?” He settled onto the couch, beaming with an eagerness that pitted her stomach against her better instincts. 

She took a breath, the words sticking in her throat. “I... um, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.” 

“Yeah? About what?” His expression shifted to curiosity, and she suspected he had no inkling of the storm about to descend.

“About us, about everything that’s happened,” she started, trying to gauge his reaction. His smile faltered just a bit, and her heart sank. “I found out about the other girl.”

His demeanor changed instantly. The confident glimmer in his eyes vanished, replaced by confusion. “Y/n, I—”

“Let me finish,” she interrupted, her tone firmer than she anticipated. She crossed her arms, drawing strength from her resolve. “I don’t want to hear excuses. I just need to know if you even care at all about what this does to our relationship.”

“I do care! I didn’t mean for it to happen.” He looked defensive, yet Y/n couldn't muster sympathy at this moment. 

“Didn’t mean for what to happen? To hurt me? To also keep her a secret?” Her voice was steady, but her chest tightened as emotions swelled within. “How many times did you lie to me? How can I trust anything you say now?”

“Y/n, please. It was a mistake. I never wanted to hurt you,” he pleaded, his expression shifting from confusion to desperation.

“And yet, here we are!” she raised her voice,, feeling the anger rise, mixed with a sorrow that threatened to spill over. “I don’t know if you understand how this makes me feel. I didn’t deserve to be anything less than faithful.”

“Oh and your brothers friend is jus-” 

“Shut up for one goddamn second.” 

Alex opened his mouth in surprise, as if he was about to argue, but Y/n pressed on, the truth spilling out. “I’ve been trying to convince myself that we could make it work, that you’d change. But the more I think about it, the more I realize—it’s not just a mistake. It’s a choice you made. You don’t actually love me enough to just be with me.” 

“Y/n...” he started, but she cut him off again, her gaze unwavering.

“It made me realize I deserve better  than what you’ve given me. I need to take care of myself.” 

An overwhelming silence consumed the room. Alex’s face hardened as he processed her words, the reality of what was happening sinking in. 

“I just... I thought we had something special,” he muttered, hurt flickering in his eyes. 

“We did,” she whispered, a pang of regret cutting through her. “But that’s the thing, Alex. You fucking ruined  it.”

Tears threatened to spill from her eyes, but she squared her shoulders. “We have to break up.” 

“Y/n, wait. I can change. I swear! Just give me another chance! I’ll do better!” His plea hung in the air, desperately. 

But she knew better now. “I don’t think I can forgive you for this. And I don’t think I want to try. I need to move on and find myself again.”

She turned to leave, heart racing in her chest. As she reached for the doorknob, Alex’s voice caught her once more. “I wish you’d let me explain...”

She paused but didn’t turn around. “There’s nothing left to say, Alex.” 

With a shaky breath, she stepped outside, the cool air hitting her like a wave of clarity. Y/n stood for a moment on the threshold, allowing herself to breathe freely for the first time in weeks. 

As she walked down the stairs and toward her car, the weight of the conversation pressed upon her, but in a different way. It was a weight lifted.

She took out her phone and texted Seungcheol. “IT'S OVER, lol. Can we still do that movie later? I could really use a friend.”

Seconds later, her phone buzzed with his response. “What’s over? Did you break up with that fucker? Thank god. I can’t wait to hear all about it.”

A smile broke through her earlier sorrow, and she felt the corners of her heart begin to heal just a little. She hadn’t expected this day to lead her in a new direction, but she was ready for whatever came next. One awkward day down, and the next chapter was waiting.

On her drive back y/n knew she shouldn’t be thinking about jumping into her relationship with Seuncheol now, but she also knew she wasted so much time with other jerks never giving him a chance, but it’s what she wanted she just had to figure out how to make it happen. 

She pulled into Seuncheol’s driveway, bag of snacks in hand. Shutting her car door with her backside, nearly skipping up to his front door where he stood waiting for her with open arms dressed in his pajamas. 

The sight of him, all cozy and relaxed, made her heart flutter. Seuncheol's smile was infectious, and she couldn’t help but return it as she stepped into his warm embrace. The delicious scent of something cooking wafted through the door behind him, complementing the warmth and comfort he radiated.

“Well, well, well, Miss. Bad Bitch,” he exclaimed, pulling away and taking her bag of snacks. “I hope you brought my favorites.”

“Shut up,” she laughed, her heart dancing at how effortlessly they fell into this easy banter. “How could I come empty-handed to thank my therapist?”

Seuncheol chuckled, his eyes twinkling. “Good point. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Together they sorted through the assortment of chips, candies, and cookies, playfully debating over which treats deserved a spot on their makeshift movie night platter. As they settled onto the couch, their bodies nearly touching, she found herself relaxing in a way she hadn’t in a long time. The earlier unease faded, replaced by a sense of belonging as she sank deeper next to him resting her head on his shoulder swinging around a piece of licorice. 

“Alright, so what are we watching?” he asked, remote in hand. 

She bit her lip thoughtfully, her heart racing at the idea of sharing this moment with him. “How about something fun? A rom-com?” 

“Only if you promise to laugh at all the cheesy parts,” he teased, nudging her playfully.

“How about a bet that whoever cries has to jump in your pool… naked,” she shot back with a smile, feeling a thrill in their playful exchange. The movie began, their laughter filling the space as they munched on snacks, but she felt the real chemistry sparking between them, the edges of her heart warming with every shared glance and gentle touch.

As the story unfolded on the screen, she caught herself stealing glances at him, his focus entirely on the film yet his presence enveloped her like a warm blanket. Somewhere between the jokes and the popcorn fights, the realization struck—this was the moment she had been waiting for, the feeling she had longed to explore. 

“Seuncheol,” she said softly, causing him to look over, pausing the movie. 

“Yeah?”

“Are you crying?” 

“Maybe.” 

“Wow. I win!” 

Seungcheol punched the air, getting up faster than he ever has, stripping off his hoodie and running out the patio door, y/n chasing behind him, knocking over the entire bowl of popcorn on her way out. 

As she turned the corner to go towards his pool he snatched her up, jumping in with her in his arms. 

The splash echoed through the night as the cool water enveloped them both. Seungcheol erupted in laughter, the sound bright and full of joy, while Y/N squealed in surprise, her heart racing from the sudden plunge. 

As they surfaced, water cascading off their faces, Y/N couldn't help but scold him playfully, “What the Fuck. You could have warned me!” Her hair clung to her face, and she was momentarily blinded, but the thrill of the moment overshadowed any annoyance.

Seungcheol flashed her a cheeky grin, droplets sparkling on his skin. “Where’s the fun in that?” he teased, his eyes mischievous, reflecting the moonlight. 

Y/N glared, though her heart was still light. “You’re such an asshole!” she laughed, splashing water back at him, her instincts taking over as they devolved into a playful water fight. He countered with playful throws of water, their laughter mingling in the cool night air—full of energy, warmth, and the promise of summer.

He was talking her through the water, pinning her against his bare chest, they both paused, breathless and giggling their legs brushing against each other as she caught her breath. “You’re going to get us both in trouble,” she said softly, her voice playful yet carrying an underlying affection.

Seungcheol tilted his head, his smile softening. “Maybe. But this is way more fun than sitting inside watching movies.” He reached for her hair, swiping it out of her face, and for a moment, the world faded around them, he took a deep breath and kissed her, rummaging his hands under her sweatshirt which she reciprocated back, tugging at his waist band, dipping her cold fingers underneath to graze him slightly in an area they’ve never explored. 

“I’ve been thinking about us,” she confessed, the words tumbling out between their passionate kisses she couldn’t second-guess them. “I know this is sudden.. But, I.. uh.” she left a small whispering moan out of her lips, 

Kissing her deeply again smiling into it he just whispered, “But?” and then moved his lips to her neck as she wrapped her legs around his waist. 

She took a deep breath, her heart racing. “But I want to give us a chance. I want to see where this could go. I’ve never trusted anyone more than you.” 

A  huge smile broke over his face, as he pulled away for just a moment, as if her words were a key that unlocked something deep within him. “Really? You mean it?” 

“Yeah,” she nodded, her nerves calming under the intensity of his stare. “I do. I know it’s sudden, but I’ve been in love with you my whole life.” 

His eyes widened with surprise “You… you’ve loved me?” The words slipped from his lips, almost hesitant, as if he were afraid to break the spell of the moment. 

“Yes,” she replied, her voice steady yet soft, the weight of her confession hanging between them like a fragile thread. “I never thought we’d get to this point, but here we are.” 

He leaned in closer again, his forehead resting against hers, feeling the warmth radiating from her skin. “I never wanted to rush you,” he admitted. “I just didn’t know how to tell you how I felt. It’s like… you’ve always been the only person I’ve ever wanted.” 

Her heart swelled at his words, a sense of relief enveloping her like a warm blanket. “So what now?” she asked, her tone playful but laced with sincerity. 

“Now? We figure it out together.” His voice was low and confident, reassurance flooding her senses. He kissed her forehead gently before pulling back slightly, his hands still locking around her waist. “I want to take our time, get to know each other in this way. There’s no rush.” 

“Okay,” she murmured, the smile returning to her lips. She hadn’t realized how much she needed his patient approach, how refreshing it felt to not be hurried into something that had the potential to change everything. 

He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, his thumb caressing her cheek. “Just know that I’m all in.” 

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them away, caught in the sincerity of his gaze. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear those words.” 

“And now that you have, what do you want to do first?” he asked, a twinkle of mischief sparking in his eyes. 

She grinned, feeling a rush of excitement flood through her. “How about we start with dinner? A proper date, just the two of us, to celebrate this… us. Build up even more sexual tension between us just to make it fun” 

“Dinner it is,” he said, already beaming. “And knowing you a bet to who would break first.” 

“My bets on you, Cheol. You’re a man.” 

“Sure, Bunny. But you did already have your hands down my pants, I’m thinking you’re already a failure. But, I’ll let it slide this time.” 

“Well I’ll try to control myself,” she replied, feeling a thrill of possibility unfolding before them. With newfound hope in her heart, she knew this was only the beginning.

[athenamikaelson]

Klaus Mikaelson X Soulmate!Reader x Elijah Mikaelson Ch. 24

Word Count- 9.2k

Warnings- Swearing, mentions of death and violence, alcohol, kissing, sexual shiz, Klaus being freaky deaky (no children better be reading this)

A/n- Rebekah didn’t hook up with Damon she just hooked up with a rando after the dance!

“I’m bored,” Kol whined desperately to his siblings as they lounged in the grand living room.

Kol threw himself onto the leather ottoman, “Our sister is a strumpet, but at least she’s having fun. I need entertainment.”

Klaus narrows his eyes at his younger brother, “What are you waiting for? Go on have at it.”

“It’s no fun to go alone. Join me, Nik,” Kol leans forward with a mischievous look.

Klaus sends a bored look at him and then goes back to his sketch. Kol lets out a loud groan and stands up.

“Well, if you won’t go with me,” He taps his chin in thought, “I’m sure I can find someone to spend my afternoon with…what about that little mate of yours…Y/n, was it? Oh yes, I’m sure she’s great fun, I wonder if she’d let me-”

Kol is cut off from finishing his sentence as Klaus wraps his hand around his brother’s throat, “Finish that sentence and you’ll find yourself right back into that coffin of yours, brother. I’m sure it’s missed your company.” Kol not entirely caring for his brother’s antics, rolls his eyes, “Joking, brother,” Kol plucks Klaus’ fingers off his throat one by one, “And as you should know, you’re mate and I are now,” Kol frowns, “What do they call it now…oh yes, besties.”

Klaus’ mood gets darker the more Kol speaks. 

“That’s not true!”

Both brothers turn at the whining of their sister.

“Y/n is my best friend!”

Kol raises an eyebrow in challenge, “Really? And did she say this herself or is this another one of your delusions.”

Rebekah glares at her brother before grabbing a nearby vase and hurling it at him. 

Kol quickly darts away and laughs, “Your aim is almost as bad as your taste in men sister.”

Rebekah lets out a loud whine, resulting in Klaus groaning in annoyance. 

“Enough of you two,” Klaus throws himself back down onto the couch, “I’ll put both of you back into your coffins.”

“Mother would never allow that,” Rebekah says proudly as she sits on the same couch as Klaus. 

“Join me, brother. It’s the least you could do after sticking a dagger in my heart,” Kol tries to reason with Klaus. Besides, are you truly going to spend all afternoon drawing pictures of your pretty little obsession?”

Klaus’ eyes narrow at his brother, but he knows he can’t deny the accusation of his current muse. 

With a final sigh, Klaus stands with a sound of annoyance, “Okay. Why not? I didn’t have nearly enough to drink last night what with you trying to murder Rebekah’s date.”

Klaus strolls by both of his siblings, taking the sketchbook filled with drawings of his soulmate with him.

“Yes, please go, this house has enough men rolling around in it,” Rebekah says annoyed as Kol begins to follow his brother. 

Kol turns around and smirks at his sister, “Just like you, Bekah!”

Rebekah throws her purse at him, “Good riddance, both of you.”

—

“No sir,” I try not to roll my eyes at the middle-aged man sitting at the bar in front of me, “We do not offer refunds for alcohol you’ve already drank.”

The drunk man in front of me glares, “You’re mean.”

“I’m going to be a lot meaner if you don’t pay,” I deadpan back at him and with a roll of his eyes he fishes out a stack of ones from his pocket and throws them onto the bar counter. 

“Great,” I mutter as the man drunkenly stalks away. 

“Rough day?” I continue to count the ones as I answer Ric, “I love working my ass off for minimum wage.”

Ric lets out a chuckle, “Ya I bet… But if anyone can handle a job like this it’s you, Y/n.”

I look up from the money, “Ya? And why is that?”

Ric’s upper lip twitches, “You spent an entire summer living with Damon, without killing him. Because of that, I'm pretty sure you could do anything.”

I ponder Ric’s comment and then nod, “I am a person of great strength, aren’t I?”

Ric chuckles and raises his drink in agreement at my sarcastic comment, “Very much indeed.”

A moment later, a dark-haired woman sits down next to Ric. A little too close for my liking. Since Jenna has gone to Nebraska or wherever the hell she and Jeremy went, I’ve been keeping an eye on Ric to make sure he stays away from other women. She never asked me to do this, but as a fellow girls girl, I must. 

My shoulders deflate as a customer at the other end of the bar ushers me over. As I deal with him I keep sending glances over to Ric and the mystery woman, who appear to be in a serious conversation. 

After I deal with the man, I make my way over to Ric’s area and pretend to dry some glasses. Glasses I had already dried 20 minutes prior. 

“It’s impossible to know anything about whoever stabbed you,” I overhear the woman and I raise my eyebrows up in shock, “Short, tall, left-handed, right-handed, no clue.”

Why the hell does Ric keep getting killed?!?

“Well, what about my head, why can’t I remember anything about the attack?”

“Your CT scans were clear. Maybe you were compelled to forget,” THe woman answers Ric.

“That wouldn’t be possible,” I casually chime in as if I wasn’t already listening to their conversation. Both adults turn to me with confused faces, “Y’know since Ric practically bathes in vervain. He drinks it a lot…Just like his girlfriend, Jenna. His longtime girlfriend.”

The woman furrows her eyebrows and gives me an odd look and I smile at her sweetly before turning around and going back to fucking around with the glasses.

“Wait… you think the person who did this to me was a vampire,” Ric questions quietly to the rando.

“I mean it’s the only option,” She answers and I fight the urge to ask why I vampire would stab Ric when they could just bite him, or like rip his head off. 

“Oh, come on now.”

Oh god no. 

That British accent has me tensing my shoulders and keeping my gaze towards the wall, hoping he hasn’t noticed me. 

“Let’s not go blaming the new family in town just cause you lot have got yourselves a killer at large,” I hear Klaus say to Ric and whats-her-face, “Don’t mind us. My brother and I are just here to let off some steam, right, Kol?”

Great, he brought the ankle biter. 

“Right.”

Ric and the woman are silent for a moment. “Ric, I’m going to play some pool, join me,” The woman’s voice comes out urgent and I don’t have to have eyes in the back of my head to know Ric is staring at me. 

“Oh, don’t fret Alaric,” Klaus’ voice comes mocking, “I’m not going to lay a finger on Elena’s little friend, go have fun with your girl.”

His words hit my heart like a dagger, weird how now I’m just “Elena’s friend” when yesterday you were pretty much confessing your heart and soul to me. Pun intended. 

“You alright, kid?”

Without turning around I throw a thumbs up at Ric. After a moment I hear the screeching of two stools.

Everything is quiet for a moment. 

“If it isn’t my bestie.”

Lord, give me the strength. 

I slowly turn around and face the two brothers. One watching me with an amused smirk and the other…just watches me. 

Klaus’ eyes seem to be marking every inch of my face and body as if he’s committing me to memory. 

“Ankle biter,” I retort as I wipe my hands on my apron and begin to walk to the other side of the bar. 

“Aye, where do you think you’re going,” Kol’s foxlike tone halts me, “I would very much like a drink, and my brother here…well I’m sure a drink isn’t exactly what he wants from you.”

I almost choke on my breath at Kol’s words as I turn to face him. 

“Also, what is this ankle-biter nonsense? Is that some type of term friends use for one another in this century,” Kol asks as he places his chin on his hand, watching me. 

“Ya, sure.”

Kol seems to be delighted with my answer as he shoots a smug smile towards his brother. Klaus doesn’t give him the time of day though as he keeps his eyes on me. 

“What do you want to drink, Kol,” I take a step closer to the bar as I grab a glass for him and Klaus. 

“What do you recommend, Little Doll,” Kol smiles up at me. 

“Arsonic.”

A loud laugh escapes Kol’s lips, but it’s Klaus’ light chuckle that I can’t help but fall into. 

“Oh, she’s funny,” Kol says excitedly and then turns to his brother, “Odd fate mated her to the boring brothers,” this finally catches a glare from Klaus and Kol turns back to me and leans over the bar, “I’m sure I can contact some witch friends of mine and get that bond switched over to me. We’d have so much more fun.”

“Brother, another word out of you and it’ll be your tongue that comes out of your mouth,’’ Klaus bites and I instantly take a step back. 

My movement catches the hybrid's attention and a small frown makes its way onto his face. 

Klaus’ eyes are filled with something that makes my stomach twist. I turn my attention back towards Kol who is watching Klaus and I with his signature smirk. 

“You’re getting bourbon,” I tell him as I turn and grab a bottle of liquor from the shelf behind me. 

“Oh, goodie! Second shelf alcohol,” I bite down on my lip to keep my laugh hidden from Kol’s sarcastic remark. 

I turn back around pour the brown liquid into two glasses and then place them in front of the two men. 

“Thank you, Doll,’’ Kol says cheekily as he downs the liquid in one go. He then places the glass back on the counter and uses his forefinger to tap it. 

“You know you guys are going to have to pay for this right,” I tap the bottle and raise an eyebrow at both of them, “I’m on vervain so you can’t just compel me to make it on the house.”

Kol quickly flings a hand to his heart and a look of hurt comes over his face, “You would really assume such horrible assumptions of us?”

I don’t even blink as I answer, “Yes.”

Kol’s fake-hurt look instantly drops into a smirk, “And you’d be correct. Knew you were a smart one. But, don’t you worry,” He sends a glance to his brother who is still staring at me, “Elijah and this thing have already given our siblings a rule book of things to not do when it comes to you. Compelling you is number three,” Kol holds up three fingers.

I furrow my brows in confusion as I turn to Klaus who has now found interest in his still-full glass, “Rule book? And why is compulsion only number three?!”

“Oh yes, my brothers gave a whole presentation to us last night on things we’re not allowed to do,” Kol nods thoughtfully.

“Kol, I will dagger you,” Klaus’ threat comes out harsh as he glares at his younger brother. 

Kol rolls his eyes and then leans back over the bar again and whispers to me, “We’ll chat later.’

“You will not,” Klaus says before downing his downing his drink. 

“Unlike you, Elijah says we’re allowed to speak to her,” Kol says matter-of-factly to his brother with a smirk. 

In this light, no one would even guess that these two are psychopathic vampires, right now all they’re acting like is two brothers who like to piss each other off. 

“That is because of Rebekah, you weren’t a part of the pardon.”

Kol glares at his brother. 

“Don’t listen to him, Doll,” Kol turns back to me, “I won’t let them separate us.”

I purse my lips, “Yippee.”

Kol’s eyes go towards his drink and I roll my own. Nonetheless, I raise the bourbon bottle and pour him another one. I turn to look at Klaus, who surprise surprise is already looking at me, and I raise the glass in question.

Klaus nods his head, “Thank you, Love.”

I pour another drink for Klaus and then place the bottle onto the counter, then turn away hoping to go anywhere but here. 

“Little Doll, where are you going? Stay and chat with us,” Kol’s grating voice makes me roll my eyes. 

“I’m on the clock Kol. Unlike some people,” I send looks to both of the brothers, “I actually have to work to make money.”

Kol turns to his right side and then his left, “There’s no one else here, Darling.”

I copy his movements and let outa swear when I realize that there is no one else waiting for a drink. 

“Come chat with us,” Kol pulls his wallet out of his jacket pocket and places it on the counter, “We’ll make it worth your time.”

“I’m not a prostitute, Kol.”

A low growl from Klaus sends shockwaves down my spine. 

“Don’t listen to the dog, Doll. And I’d never insinuate you were a lady of the night. And besides,” Kol’s smirk deepens, “I’ve never had to pay a woman to spend a night with me. If anything they should’ve been paying me.”

I watch in silent disbelief at Kol’s hurt expression as he finishes his sentence. And here I thought Theo was full of himself. 

“Right…”

“Ignore him, Astin Min, it’s what all my family does” Klaus’ voice pulls my attention.

A quick look of hurt covers Kol’s face and for a moment I wonder if he actually has real emotions.

“Whatever mutt.”

Nevermind. 

“Pour yourself a drink, Doll,” Kol turns to me with a smile, “On me.”

I open my mouth to reject him but Klaus speaks first.

“She doesn’t drink,” His tone comes out casual as he takes a sip of his own drink, but as his eyes meet mine I’m taken back to the night before when I told him things about myself that not even Theo knows.

“Well, that’s lame,” Kol mutters under his breath, “What else is there to do for fun around here other than drink?”

I break eye contact with Klaus and shrug my shoulders, “Pretty much nothing.”

“Then why do you live here,” Kol’s question comes off actually inquisitive, unlike his other comments.

“Ask my mother,” I mutter under my breath.

“Yikes,” Kol yips, “Are we not a fan of mummy dearest.”

I clench my fists as I think back to my mother.

“Drop it, Kol…Luv,” Klaus’ unusually soft voice sends a wave of comfort over me and I unclench my fists. 

“Would you mind,” He gestures to his finished drink.

I grab the bourbon bottle and begin refilling his drink. I notice though that instead of watching my face, like usual, he’s glaring at my hand. 

“Me too, Doll,” Kol chimes in, and after I fill his brother’s glass I fill his as well. 

“Why do you work here,” Klaus questions. 

I send him a glance and begin tapping my fingers to the song playing on the bar’s speakers, “As I said before, I need the money.”

“For what?”

I want to roll my eyes at Klaus’ questioning but when I see the honest look on his face I just shrug, “Stuff.”

Klaus’ eyebrows narrow, “Stuff? What kind of stuff?”

“I don’t know, like bills, and stuff. College savings.”

Klaus’ eyes narrow further as if he can’t grasp the concept of me having to work for this stuff, “Wouldn’t your mother be the one who pays for that stuff?”

I let out an annoyed laugh, “You would think?”

“You could quit,” Klaus’ comment makes me roll my eyes. 

“Have you not been listening? I need the money!”

Klaus leans back in his chair and sends me an annoyed look, “I’ll pay for these things.”

What is up with these Mikaelsons and wanting to financially support me??!?

“You’d pay for me,” I say skeptically, “You pay my car insurance, my car payment, my groceries, my taxes, my gas, my art supplies, my college fund, Theo’s college fund,” I list off all my expenses in annoyance.

“Without question.”

I eye Klaus for any sign of a lie, but the stern look on his face tells me everything I need to know. He’s being serious. 

I release an uncomfortable noise and look away from him, “Well, thanks…but I can do it myself.”

From my peripheral, I see Klaus lean in and rest his elbows on the counter, “Just because you can, Love, doesn’t mean you should have to.”

I feel a burning in my eyes as I consider Klaus’ words. 

“Good lord,” Kol groans, “If I’ll have to deal with this,” He gestures to Klaus and I, “For the next millenia. Might as well put me out of my misery and dagger me now.’’

Klaus sends a dark smirk to his brother, “With pleasure.”

“Oh! I remember her from last night,” Kol points off to the distance and I follow his finger towards Caroline, who has just walked in looking quite hot, “She looks like a tasty little thing.”

Klaus spares a fleeting glance at Caroline before turning back towards me, “Have at it brother,” He mutters without a care.

“Hello, Darling,” Kol calls to Caroline who strides past both men.

Caroline stops and sends a bored look to the men. Her gaze holds on Klaus’ back and a look of annoyance passes over her face.

“Join us for a drink will you,” Kol questions her and raises his glass. 

“Who’s us?”

Caroline’s words have no hold over me, but the way she keeps looking at Klaus’ back as if she wants his attention, makes an annoyance build in my chest. 

My eyes dart to Klaus momentarily and I see him send me an odd look before turning over his shoulder to glance at Caroline. The blonde vampire instantly flicks her hair over her shoulder as the hybrid looks at her and I hear Klaus let out a low chuckle. 

Caroline’s features instantly morph into annoyance again when Klaus turns back around to face me with a knowing smirk. 

“I’d rather die of thirst,” Caroline looks at Kol, “But thanks. Bye, Y/n.”

With one last glance at Klaus’ back, Caroline sends me a smile, before pretty much stomping back outside. 

“Well,” Kol turns back towards me, “Hand me that bottle, love. I’m going to go harass the locals.”

“Are you going to pay for it?”

Kol must notice my change in mood as he smirks and opens up his wallet, “Of course love. Wouldn’t want to make you mad.”

I watch in awe as Kol fishes out a handful of one-hundreds and throws them on the counter in front of him. 

“Kol, it’s a $80 bottle,” I say unbelievably.

Kol just smirks and shrugs, “With the way it tastes it better be…but the rest is your tip, Little Doll,” He reaches over the counter and grabs the bottle before standing up. He then glances at his brother, “Enjoy. Talk soon.”

I watch with my mouth open as Kol saunters over to the pool table where the woman Ric was previously talking to is standing. I turn my attention to the wad of money on the counter and quickly count it.

Eight hundred dollars. That’s a $720 tip. This is more than I’ll make in an entire month…hell two months. 

I shake my head in disbelief as a happy laugh escapes me.  

“Now that I know money makes you do that, I’ll be sure to tip you a lot.”

I look to Klaus, confused.

“What?”

Klaus looks at me with the same heartstopping look from last night, “Your smile,” He gestures to my mouth as if it’s nothing, “I rarely see you smile like that.”

Klaus’ comment has a wave of embarrassment flowing through me, “I’m not superficial or anything,” I deny as I hold the money close to me, “It’s just that…,” I pause unsure if I should continue, “This amount of money might not seem like much to you guys, but… to me, it’s life-changing. I don’t have a trust fund to fall back on if times get tough. All I have is the money I save and with all the money I spend on bills and Theo’s sports…I don’t have much left. If any at all.” 

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Y/n. I may have never had to worry about money, but I understand what it feels like to want something out of reach.”

I tug on my bottom lip as I nod and put my large tip into my apron pocket, “Thanks.”

Klaus smirks, “No need to thank me, love.”

I lock eyes with him and I feel a small smile making its way onto my face. Klaus appears to start to say something but the voice of a customer from the other end of the bar turns my attention.

“Of course,” I hear Klaus mutter. 

I hold up one finger to the customer and then turn back to Klaus.

Klaus nods, “Go, love. I’ll be here waiting.”

—

I let out a deep sigh as I finished dealing with a rush of customers. Normally when dealing with drunk people my anxiety level is only at 100 but with the everlasting stare I felt from Klaus the entire time my anxiety is now at a whopping 100,000.

“Do you need a refill,” I finally make my way over to Klaus who hasn't moved from his chair. 

“I’m alright, Love,” The side of his lip twitches as he looks at me, “I do wonder though why get a job working as a bartender when it’s clear how much you loathe drunk people.”

I bring my hand up to my neck and rub out the tension. Klaus's eyes follow my movement and his normal bright blue seems to darken. 

“I um… Don’t usually work as a bartender. But, someone called in sick so I covered for them.”

Klaus’ eyes make their way back up to my face and he nods in understanding.

“When do you get off?”

I glance down at the watch on my wrist and sigh, “Thankfully, only 30 more minutes.”

Klaus seems to be happy with my response.

“Great. What are you doing after this?”

I narrow my eyes at the hybrid, “Why do you ask?”

Klaus's lips morph into a smirk and he leans back and shrugs his shoulders, “Asking for a friend.’’

I let out a small laugh, “Right, of course. Because as I know you have so many of those.”

Klaus’ eyes narrow at my jab and I laugh again. 

“Tell your friend that I have a date.”

Klaus’ smirk drops. 

“Who?”

Klaus’ instant change in attitude startles me. Long gone is his casual demeanor, now replaced by something darker. 

“What?”

At my question, Klaus leans in and practically glares at me, “Who is your date?”

I try not to let Klaus’ attitude freak me out as I lean into him so our faces are a few inches apart, “The leftover lasagna I have in my freezer at home.”

Klaus’ face instantly morphs into annoyance, “Are you serious right now?”

I shrug, “I never joke about pasta.”

Klaus runs a hand over his face, “Y/n…careful.”

I raise an eyebrow at him, “Why?”

Klaus takes his hand away from his face and instead brings it up to run a finger along my jawline. I inhale an involuntary breath as he watches me with a dark gleam in his eyes. 

“You need to be careful because if I ever do find out you were to go on a date with another man,” My breath comes out shallow as he leans in so close our noses are practically touching, “I’d find him…rip all of his limbs off and then,” His eyes trail down to my lips, “I’d ravage you in his blood. So every time after that, every time a man even glances your way…all you’ll be able to think about is the feeling of me on top of you.”

I let out a squeak. A fucking squeak. 

I can’t seem to find my words, which only seems to please Klaus.

“You…you,” I try to shove away any unwanted thoughts as I look a the man before me, “You’re not allowed to get jealous…we’re not even together. Like I talked with Elijah about, we’re going to be just friends for right now.”

Klaus lets out a loud laugh.

“Friends?!”

I furrow my brows at the tone in his voice.

“Y/n love,” Klaus meets my eye, “My brother may try to fool you and himself with that silly notion, but know this…you and I,” He points from himself to me, “Will never be just friends. Friends don’t think of each other the way you and I think of one another.”

I shake my head in denial, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Klaus tilts his head, “No? So that death glare you were sending your blood friend while she was trying to get my attention was nothing?”

God, I don’t know if I want to punch him or kiss him.

“Just to let you know though, you have no reason to be jealous. No other woman could sway my gaze away from my little muse.”

I feel my face heat at his confession and I open my mouth to try to deny him again but a piercing pain makes me release a loud gasp. 

I feel my knees buckle as I clutch my heart.

“Y/n!” I think I can hear Klaus’ frantic voice but with the searing pain, it’s kind of hard to focus on anything.

I’m soon enveloped in a warm embrace as I feel hands go under my arms and my knees, bringing me into a bridal-style pose. 

“I’ve got you, Love.”

I try to focus on the warmth of Klaus instead of my chest, but it’s kind of hard when it hurts like a motherfucker. 

A rush of cold air hits my face, and I think we must be outside now. 

“I’ve got to set you down for a moment, my love. I’ve got to go kill your friends momentarily.”

I try to open my eyes when I feel myself being placed on cold ground and I think I can see Stefan and Damon fighting with Klaus. 

After a moment I feel a weight being lifted off my chest and I no longer feel the stabbing pain. Thank fuck. 

“I should’ve killed you months ago,” I lift my head to see Klaus standing in front of me protectively and Stefan and Damon a few feet away from him looking disheveled. I lock eyes with Damon, and his eyes narrow as he looks at me for a moment before turning back toward Klaus. 

“Do it. That’s not gonna stop Esther from killing you.”

The fuck?

“What did you say about my mother?”

I watch with bated breath as Klaus stalks toward the eldest Salvatore.

“You didn’t know I was friends with your mummy? Yeah, we have a lot in common. She hates you as much as I do.”

“Demon, you fucking idiot,” I cough out, as I try to sit up against the stone wall. 

Klaus rushes towards him but is stopped by the sound of Elijah’s voice. 

Yay, Lijah. 

“Leave him!”

Klaus, Damon, and I, both turn to look up the stone staircase where Elijah stands. 

“We still need him, Niklaus.”

Klaus takes a step closer to his brother, “What did mother do? What did she do, Elijah?”

Elijah starts walking down the stairs and as he gets to the bottom step he unbuttons his jacket and takes it off. 

Why is this dude stripping right now?

“You’re shaking,” Elijah’s eyes meet mine and he reaches out his jacket for me to take. The cold look he had on his face, moments ago is gone and replaced with a sorrowful look as he gives me a once-over.

Oh. He's being chivalrous and here I’m calling him a stripper. My bad.

I reach out a hand, and as I catch a glimpse of its shaking I now just realize how right Elijah is. I try to muster up a small smile of thanks as I grab the jacket from him and place it over my shoulders. Elijah nods once before turning back and striding over the Damon.

“You tell me where the witches are or I’ll have my sister kill Elena right now.”

“What?!”

I feel my heart drop in my stomach at Elijah’s words and I push on the wall to stand up on wobbly legs. 

“Elijah, what the hell are you talking about?!” For the very first time since meeting him, Elijah ignores me. 

“You told me we had until after 9,” Damon says and I shake my head in confusion. 

“I’m sure Rebekah would be more than happy to start her work early.’’

Elijah’s words send waves of fear through me. 

A look of fear comes over Damon's face and he tries to rush past Elijah but Elijah halts him with a hand to his chest.

“And one last thing you should know. I see you have procured a center fondness for Y/n,” At Elijah’s comment Damon’s eyes meet mine, “As you may or may not know Y/n is my soulmate. As well as my brothers. With that being said if either one of us were to die…Y/n would shortly follow. Just thought you should know.”

Tears begin welling in my eyes as I watch Elijah. Damon looks at Elijah and Klaus, to see if either one of them is bluffing but when looking at both of their grim expressions he clenches his jaw. Damon pushes past Elijah, grabs Stefan, and begins to walk up the stairs. He stops though, momentarily and turns to look over his shoulder. We lock eyes and after a moment he shakes his head harshly and speeds away with his brother. 

Tears stream down my face as I stare at the spot Damon was in only moments ago. 

“Elskan,” Elijah’s soft voice comes from beside me and I flinch.

I take 3 large steps away and I stare wide-eyed at him.

“Do NOT come near me,” I raise an accusing finger at him and shrug off his coat from my shoulders. 

“Elskan, please you don’t understand,” Elijah raises his hands and tries to step closer to me but takes another step away. He frowns at my movement but still stops moving. 

“Understand what, Elijah!? That you’re threatening to kill my best friend?! Or that you’re using me as fucking leverage!”

It’s Elijah’s turn to flinch as I muster whatever strength I have left to yell at him. 

“Elena is innocent! And I thought you were better than this to use my a fucking leverage against my friends!”

Elijah shakes his head, “You’re so-called innocent friend made a deal with my mother to rid my entire family of this earth.”

I shake my head in denial but Elijah continues. 

“I asked Miss. Gilbert to be honest with me and she lied straight to my face. She was willing to let my entire family die, Y/n. But, I’m not. Especially when it means that you will also perish.”

“Elena would never do anything to hurt me,” I shake my head a wipe away the tears flowing down my face. 

“Exactly… that is why I told Damon what would happen to you if my siblings and I were to die.”

Elijah begins to take another step toward me but he is interfered by Klaus.

A snarl leaves Elijah’s lips and I back up to the point where my back is now pressed into the wall. 

“Give her space, brother,” I hear Klaus. Klaus turns over his shoulder to look at my quivering form and I see Elijah’s angry expression hinder as he looks at me. 

“What the bloody hell happened?”

I whip around with teary eyes to see a groaning Kol, walk down the steps, with a look of anger on his face. 

He looks at his brothers but when they don’t give him the time of day, he turns to me. His angry expression dims into confusion when he notices my tear-stained face. 

“Which one of you did this?”

I’m shocked by the angry tone Kol directs at his brothers. 

“Not now Kol,” Elijah glares at his younger brother, who glares back at him. 

“Am I going to die tonight?” My quiet voice catches all three men’s attention and they turn to me. 

“I won’t let that happen, love,” Klaus takes a step towards me but I move around him and find myself standing behind Kol. 

Klaus seems hurt by my action but I honestly don’t give a flying fuck right now.

“What will happen to Theo if I die,” I feel my chest hurt as I mutter to myself. My body begins to shake and I blink rapidly as my vision goes in and out. I try to catch my breath but I think I’ve forgotten how to breathe. Oh God, I’m suffocating. 

Warm hands press themselves to my face and I think I can hear Klaus’ voice through the ringing that is going through my head. Klaus’ voice is gone though as the ringing in my head gets louder and my breaths get shorter. 

My breathing completely halts as a weight presses itself onto my lips.

I open my eyes and realize that Klaus is pressing his lips to mine. Again. 

I’m practically knocked out of the panic attack I was in as I back away quickly from Klaus who watches my every move. 

My eyes fling from Klaus to Kol who is watching the exchange with a raised eyebrow, and then I look to Elijah who now won’t meet my eye. 

“Well, now that that is done…I’d like very much to not die today so let’s get this show on the road.”

I look towards Kol who eyes me for a moment before wrapping me under his arm and begins walking me up the stairs. 

I go to take a step but my knees buckle and I begin to fall. 

Thankfully, Kol wraps his arm around my waist and uses his strength to pretty much carry me up the stairs, “Don’t worry love. I’ve got you.”

I look up at him and find myself beginning to tear up again, “Thank you.”

Kol looks down at me and something shifts in his eyes momentarily before he looks forward and smirks, “What are friends for?”

—-

I’m now trudging through a cold, windy ass forest to go stop my soulmate's deranged mother from killing us all. Fantastic. Fuck I’m hungry. 

Klaus, Elijah, and Kol walk ahead of me a few paces as I trudge behind. Kol offered to carry me the way but not wanting to feel like a damsel I denied him. Now as my aching muscles scream at me, I regret it. 

Thankfully, I warm orange light can be seen from up ahead.

Elijah stops and turns to me, “You should stay here. We’ll handle this.”

I glare at Elijah and walk past him and the other two men, “Ya, because you three have been so good at handling things so far,” I spit. 

I try to forget the pain as I march towards the open center of the woods where Esther stands with Finn in a circle of fire and salt. 

Sigmund Freud, you would’ve loved these two.

Elijah comes to stand on my right, Klaus on my left and Kol walks behind them to stand right beside Klaus. 

“My sons, come forward,” Esther says, and god I’ve never wanted to throw a punch at a woman more in my entire life. 

“Stay beside me,” Finn puts his hand out to his mother and I frown at him. 

“It’s okay. They can’t enter.”

“Ya, so why don’t you stop hiding behind your magic and come over here bitch,” I bite at her and I hear Kol snigger. 

“Ah, yes. I’m afraid we haven’t properly met, my dear. I do want you to know I don’t blame you for your anger. I am incredibly sorry that fate has put you with my sons.”

The flames around Esther and Finn engulf and I feel the warmth spread across my cold face. I feel a slight tug on my elbow and Klaus and Elijah come to stand in front of me. 

“Go fuck yourself, Esther.”

“That’s lovely,” Kol says as he looks at the flames, “We’re stuck out here while the favorite son plays sacrificial lamb. How pathetic you are, Finn.”

“Be quiet, Kol,” Esther stops him, “Your brother knows virtue you cannot even imagine.”

“Whatever you think of us killing your own children would be an atrocity.”

Esther shakes her head at Elijah’s words.

“My only regret is that I did not let you die a thousand years ago.”

“Enough,” Klaus exhausts, “All this talk is boring me. End this now, Mother or I’ll send you back to hell.”

A smirk comes onto my face at Klaus’ words. 

“For a thousand years I’ve been forced to watch you; felt the pain of every victim; suffered while you shed blood. Even you, Elijah, with your claim to nobility you’re not better. All of you you’re a curse on this Earth stretched out over generations. If you’ve come to plead for your life I’m sorry. You’ve wasted your time.”

“And what of Y/n,” The mention of my name has me looking at Elijah who points his finger at me, “A girl who is nothing but caring, pure, and good of heart. And yet what? You burden her with death. She does not deserve this mother. She is good… I am asking you…do not harm the woman I love.”

Elijah’s eyes lock with mine and the emotions hidden in them pull something in me I didn’t know existed. 

“Yes, she is innocent. But for how long? How long before your promised immortality results in her death or her transition into a monster like you all? Fate has already given his girl the hand of death. It is better I give her the mercy of a quick one now.”

A wave of anger I’ve never felt before exudes me as I push past Klaus and Elijah and stand at the ring of salt, heat from the fire be damned. 

“You are unbelievable!”

“Excuse me?”

“You sit on your high horse hiding behind your poor son, while you degrade and belittle your other children! Instead of loving them for their faults, you have condemned them to think of themselves as nothing more than monsters. Yes, they have lived a thousand years, and yes they have spilled blood! But who the fuck wouldn’t!? I haven’t known any of them very long but I am sure that these so-called monsters you see as your children are not the people I see before me right now,” I point to Finn who watches me with a cold expression, “Finn for example follows you dutifully because that’s all he knows! It is all he’s been allowed to know! You pushed this idea that he and his siblings are all monsters who deserve nothing and yet here he stands ready to die at your altar for your approval! Finn was betrayed by his siblings for almost a thousand years and when he’s finally awoken I bet you just jumped at the fact that he would cling to the first sign of care and love anyone would show him, didn’t you,” I accuse the glaring woman in front of me and I look as Finn’s gaze turns to his mother, “A woman trying to sacrifice her own son isn’t what he needed Esther, he needed a mother. And what about Kol,” I whip around and point at the boy next to me, “Yes, I’ve only known him two days and he’s already a pain in my ass, but even in those two days he’s shown me more care than my own father or mother have ever shown me! And Klaus…,” I stop and make eye contact with Klaus who is watching me with an unreadable expression, “God…Esther, you are a pathetic excuse for a woman and mother. How many times did you excuse Mikael’s behavior? When Klaus came crying to you in pain, how many times did you just patch him up and then wait with bated breath until the next time he came to you needing help again? I have a mother like you, you know. And I love her because she’s my mother…but I also hate the ground she walks on because she’s an idiotic woman who was too scared to leave a man who caused nothing but pain for her children. And after all of that, you criticize Elijah’s attempts at being a better person?! You just went on and on about them being monsters but the second one of them tries to change you disparage him? Right now I’m pissed off at Elijah, but even though I am that doesn’t stop me from thinking that he is one of the best people I have ever met in my 18 years of life. Before I met him, I was nothing,” I say and I can see my vision start to blur with tears, “I was a quiet girl who nobody cared for. I woke each day waiting for life to be done with me, just as I was done with it. But then…,” I look to Elijah whose eyes are filled with nothing but pure devotion, “I met a man who did something I never thought anyone would ever be able to do…breathe. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t holding my breath around everyone. The day I met Elijah everything changed for me. Meeting him was the best day of my life…and also the first day I truly started living. So don’t you dare for a second blame your mistakes on them! You made your bed now fucking lie in it, Esther.”

 Esther’s glare is harsh but nothing could sway the rage that flows through my body as I stare at the bitch in front of me. 

Esther’s glare instantly shifts into fear and I am pulled back by Kol as the flames around the circle begin to flicker. 

“No! Sisters, do not abandon me!”

Esther’s yells are useless as the flames around us flare up and Kol covers my body with his own. After another moment the heat of the flames is gone.

I glance up at Kol and send him a smile and he nods.

Klaus, Elijah, Kol, and I stand together as we look at the unlit circle where I stone-faced Finn and a frightened Esther stand.

“Finn,” Esther grabs her son's arm, “We must leave now.”

Finn looks down at his mother and then his gaze falls onto me. 

“You’re your own person Finn. Peculiar…but still,” I smile at him and his chest puffs out. 

Finn shrugs out his mother’s hold and shakes his head at her. 

“Finn, what are you doing?”

I feel a sick smirk come onto my face as I look at Esther’s scared expression. 

“I have lived for a thousand years mother, and yet I have spent none of those feeling alive. I think I deserve the chance to.”

I can’t help the giant smile that I feel across my face at Finn’s words. Hell ya, brother!

“Finn you have no idea what you’re talking about! Don’t let this insolent little harlot,” She gestures to me wildly, “Sway you from the plan!”

A flash of motion catches my eye and I let out a yelp as I watch Esther’s head get swiped off her body. 

Elijah stands before his mother’s dead body with a grim expression on his face, “No one is allowed to insult, Y/n. Not even you, mother.”

I blink as I stare at Esther’s decapitated body. 

“Well, mommy dearest is dead again.”

I look up to Kol whose attention goes from his mother’s body to Finn.

“You absolute fool,” Kol bites at Finn, and all three brothers turn to glare at the eldest Mikaelson.

Without thinking I rush in front of Finn and put a hand out stopping his brothers. 

“Off limits!”

“Excuse me?!”

Kol stares wildly at me as if I have three heads. 

“Yep. Just like you and me kol, Finn and I also have our own deal,” I look back towards Finn who looks at me confused before nodding along, “So if you dagger him, I’ll never speak to the three of you again.”

“I can live with that,” Kol mutters not taking his eyes off Finn.

“That’s fine…then that means our deal no longer stands, ankle biter. Tell me,” I smirk at Kol, “How many moth balls does that coffin of yours collect a year?”

Kol turns his glare from his brother to me, but I hold it. 

“If anything I think you all owe Finn an apology. I mean Kol you’re pissed off for being daggered away for a hundred years, and yet you hold no sympathy for your brother who was daggered for ten times that?!”

Kol glare drops slightly as he thinks for a moment before rolling his eyes. 

“I take it back…I wouldn’t want to be your mate.”

“Right back at you.”

With one final look at his brother, Kol speeds off into the dark forest. 

My attention goes to Elijah and Klaus and I raise an eyebrow in challenge at them. 

“What’s it going to be, boys?”

Elijah’s eyes don’t leave mine as he addresses his eldest brother, “Leave Finn.”

“Thank you, Y/n,” I hear Finn whisper to me before he also speeds off into the night.

I look a the two men before me and let out a shaky breath. 

“Soooooooo…..”

“Did you mean what you said?”

I look at Elijah, “That I’m pissed off at you…yes.”

Elijah shakes his head, “Y/n…”

I rub a hand down my face and nod, “Yes. Every word.”

I don’t have time for my hand to move away from my face when I feel two strong arms wrap themselves around me in an embrace. 

I release a shaky breath as I feel Elijah use one hand to grip my waist and the other to hold the back of my head. 

I know I’m not much of a hugger…but damn this feels nice. 

“Thank you.”

Elijah’s soft voice makes me almost forget I’m mad at him…almost. 

“You’re welcome. But, I’m still pissed at you.”

“I know, Elskan,” Elijah says as he leans back and runs a hand through my hair, getting it out of my face. 

A cough interrupts us and I glance over Elijah’s shoulder to Klaus who is watching us with a glare. 

I step away from Elijah, who grunts in disapproval. 

“So, I’m glad we didn’t die. That’s cool.”

Silence.

“Okay…well I’m starving and your mother’s decapitated head is right by my left foot soooooo….can we leave?”

—-

Klaus and I walk silently up the staircase to my front door. Elijah had left us earlier to go tell Rebekah about their mother. 

When Klaus and I get to my door, I wait for him to say something, but sigh when all he does is stare at the door. 

“Ok…Night,” I reach for the handle and begin to turn it when Klaus's hand grabs mine. I turn to look at him in question but before I can even blink I’m being tagged forward into Klaus’ embrace and his lips are attacking mine. It only takes my body a moment to catch on and before I realize what I’m doing I’m kissing him back. This seems to be the approval Klaus needed because he used his hand to grab my waist to pull my flush against his chest and his other hand to grip the back of my neck so I couldn’t move…not that I wanted to. I try to fight for dominance but that is quickly stopped when Klaus bites harshly into my bottom lip, making me exhale. This gives Klaus an opening as his tongue enters my mouth and begins fighting for dominance against my own. An involuntary moan escapes my lips at the feeling and Klaus releases a growl at the noise. 

Klaus releases my mouth as we both catch our breaths.

My eyes widen as I see that Klaus’ once blue eyes are now a bright gold, with dark veins under them. Without thinking I reach a hand up and cup his face, and using my thumb I trace the veins. 

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I whip around to see Theo wrapped in his fluffy robe with his phone to his ear glaring at Klaus and I, “I’ll have to call you back Jerebaby. My sister’s making out with a serial killer.”

Theo ends the call, stomps out of the house, and puts his hands on his hips sending glares to both Klaus and me. 

“Seriously?! Young lady, in the house now!”

I raise an eyebrow at Theo and he does the exact same.

I turn to say goodbye, or really anything to Klaus but Theo stops me.

“NUH-UH HOUSE NOW!”

I roll my eyes and with a huff, I stomp inside. 

Theo slams the door shut behind us and I whip around to him.

“Seriously, Theodore!?”

“Room now,” Theo yells and I glare at him.

“I’m older than you Theo, you can’t ground me.”

“Well, as the man of this house, I am.”

“You’re wearing a blue fluffy robe with bunny rabbits on it,” I deadpan as I look at my brother’s attire.

“AND?! ROOM NOW! We shall talk about this in the morning!”

I blink once at my brother before shaking my head and trudging over to my room. 

—

After taking a VERY cold shower I finally get to settle down with my lasagna. 

“Hello, Elskan.”

FUCKING SERIOUSLY

I whip around on my bed to see Elijah, who just magically appeared in the corner of my room. Yay. 

“Ya, hi, Elijah. No offense but I haven’t eaten anything at all today and almost getting killed by a one thousand-year-old witch really does something to the stomach. So if you don’t mind, I’m going to eat while you say whatever it is you’re going to say.”

I huff and then stuff a forkful of pasta into my mouth. 

“Of course, Elskan. Please don’t starve yourself. I’ll say my peace and then leave you.”

I hum to him as I pick a huge piece of pasta up with my fork and shove it into my mouth. 

“I am leaving Mystic Falls.”

I feel my lasagna lodge in my throat as I inhale.

I clutch my throat as I feel myself choking and try to cough up my food.

“Y/n!”

Elijah runs to my side and hits my back and I spit out the chunk of pasta onto my plate. 

With a shaky breath, I look up to Elijah who is staring at me, wide-eyed, “What the fuck do you mean you’re leaving?!”

Elijah shakes his head, “Are you alright?” I glare at him, “Elijah answer my question.”

Elijah eyes me for a moment before shaking his head and muttering something under his breath. He walks back over to the corner of my room and places himself on my desk chair. 

“I am leaving.”

I blink, “Ya… I got that.”

Elijah sighs, “What I did today was unforgivable. I went against my moral code and hurt not just you, but your friend. I betrayed your trust and threatened an innocent girl's life. I can never forgive myself. That is why I must leave. My siblings will stay here to make sure you stay safe, but…me being around will only cause more pain.”

“Are you serious?”

Elijah picks up his head to meet my glare. 

With a huff, I put my pasta, which is now cold, onto my side table, and stand up. With my hands on my hips, I walk over to Elijah and stand before his seated figure.  

“Elijah you are a grown man, act like it.”

Elijah’s eyes narrow at my words, “Excuse me?”

“You talk a big game about taking accountability but right now, that is the farthest thing from what you are doing. You made a mess, clean it up. Don’t run away just because you’re scared of the repercussions.”

Elijah stands up, and I inhale when I realize just how close we are now.

“I am not scared,” Elijah’s low voice sends shivers down my spine as he leans down to meet my eye level. 

I puff out my chest, “Is that so? Because all I see right now is a man who doesn’t go for anything he wants. Who is just letting everyone walk all over him. Elijah…you fucked up. But, running away is not going to change that. Own your mistakes, don’t hide from them.” 

Elijah’s nostrils flare slightly and he raises an eyebrow, “You think I don’t go for what I want?”

The challenge in his voice makes a warmth flow throughout my body, “Yes…”

As soon as the word leaves my mouth, Elijah raises his hand and grips my throat pulling me into him. A startled gasp leaves my throat but it is quickly muted by the pressure of Elijah’s lip on my own. My mind seems to be working a mile a minute as I try to understand everything that is happening right now. Elijah is kissing me. Kissing me. Elijah is kissing me, while his hand is wrapped around my throat. 

Kinky.

No, Y/n. Shut up. 

As soon as I start to piece together everything, the pressure of Elijah’s mouth and his hand are gone. I blink as I see Elijah look almost hurt. 

“You didn’t like that…I’m so sorry Elskan. I’ll go.”

Elijah’s words make me highly confused because I indeed liked what he just did.

“Why do you think I didn’t like it?”

Elijah’s eyebrows furrow, “You were distracted. I felt it. And you…,” He pauses and I see his cheeks turn a light pink. He’s nervous, “You didn’t kiss me back.”

Seeing Elijah’s hurt expression, mixed with his tinted cheeks pulls something out of me, and before I can stop myself I grab his tie and drag him over to me. As soon as he’s a few inches away I slam my lips onto his. 

A shocked grunt escapes his throat and then a moment later he’s grabbing both of my cheeks and pulling my face flush against his. Just like with Klaus, I try to fight for dominance but that is short-lived with the intense pressure Elijah is kissing me with. 

After a dizzying few minutes, Elijah unlocks our lips and rests his forehead against mine and I can’t stop the giggle that leaves me. 

“Friends definitely don’t do that.”

[covenofagatha]

A dance with death (and her wife) (Part 1)

@lanfear-is-my-darkmistress

You are a profiler for the FBI when you get called to help catch a serial killer in Westview. (Killing Eve/Hannibal AU)

Word count: 4200

Warnings: descriptions of violence, fear

The phone rings at 7:30 in the morning on your day off and you want to throw it against the wall. 

You had been sleeping – having a very good dream, actually – when the harsh ringtone roughly jolts you out of your slumber. 

“Hello?” you answer groggily, rubbing your face with your hand. If it’s a spam call, you think you might lose your mind. 

“Is this Agent Y/L/N?” A gruff voice asks and you shoot up out of bed into the sitting position. 

You clear your throat and try to sound professional. “Um, yes, this is she. Who am I speaking with?”

“This is Director Hayward,” the man says, and your eyes widen. The head of the FBI is calling you. “Have you heard of the town of Westview?” 

Your forehead wrinkles while you rack your brain for anything that sounds familiar. “No, sir, I don’t think so.” 

There’s muffled sounds from the other side of the phone and then you can hear Director Hayward clearly. “It’s a small town in New Jersey. Nothing special, nothing too out of the ordinary.” He pauses like you’re supposed to recognize it, but after a moment of silence he sighs and continues. “About seven months ago, we believe a pair of serial killers moved into town. Bodies started piling up, seemingly no rhyme or reason to who was killed, only that the victims were all female.” 

“Okay,” you say slowly, trying to wrap your head around all this. If it’s been going on for this long, why haven’t you heard about it? “Are we sure they’re connected if there’s no pattern of victim? Usually men have a type when they do this kind of thing; the women usually look like an ex-lover who broke their heart, or their mom.” 

You can practically hear him roll his eyes through the phone. “They were all killed the same way: poison to sedate them and then their hearts were carved out. And there was a purple azalea left in every single one of the victims’ chest cavities. So we’re pretty sure they’re connected.” Sarcasm drips copiously from his tone and you wince. Way to make a good first impression on the director of the FBI. “And it’s not a man. It’s a woman.” 

This makes you perk up with interest. “Oh?” As a profiler for a branch of the FBI in Miami, you’ve handled your fair share of serial killers. It may make you sound insensitive, but you were only really interested in the female ones. Men were so boring and predictable. Women knew how to make it a challenge, and there was always some deep, underlying motive for why they did it. There was nothing you enjoyed more than piecing together that puzzle. 

“They’re calling her The Witch. The poison used on the victims is like nothing we’ve ever seen before, so we think she must be making it herself. But since female serial killers are kind of your thing–” 

You cut him off before you can think twice, thoughts whirling through your head. “How do you know it’s a woman? Cutting out a heart, that takes a lot of strength. Most female serial killers tend to use gentler methods, like poison, so it makes sense that there’s at least one woman involved. Are you sure she isn’t working with someone though? Lavinia Fisher would poison her victims and then her husband would finish the job.” 

“How quickly can you get to Westview?” He asks, completely ignoring your question. 

“Oh, you want me to go there?” 

He scoffs. “Yes, Agent, we want you to go there. I’ve already informed your boss and he’s given his approval. No one has been better at catching the female killers than you, so we really need you on this. You can take the Miami jet as soon as you’re ready, but they want you there as soon as possible.” 

“Will I be working with the Trenton branch?” 

“Just the Westview PD for now. They’ve assured us that they have their best detectives on the case. But if you need backup, let us know and we can send in some more profilers. Whatever it takes to bring this woman to justice.” He hangs up without another word and you grab your to-go suitcase that you keep packed for times like these. You throw in a few extra sets of clothes just in case it takes longer than expected, and then you’re out the door, driving to Headquarters. 

You walk into your boss’s office and knock on the door. The director of the Miami branch, Tony Stark, looks up at you. “Hope you packed some warm clothes,” he says and you chuckle. You definitely did not.

“Hayward said I could take the jet?”

Tony nods. “It’s out back and already fueled up. Good luck, kid. Be careful, okay?” 

You scoff. “Careful? I’m always careful.” He fixes you with a stern look and you acquiesce. “I promise.” 

“I don’t need to remind you what happened last time you worked on a case like this, do I?” 

It hits you like a punch to the gut and you shake your head. “No, sir, you do not.” But you know he’s going to tell you anyway. 

“That woman destroyed you,” he hisses. “You got so focused on finding her that you stopped eating and sleeping. The obsession completely consumed you.” 

“I caught her, didn’t I?” You mutter, knowing full well that isn’t his point. He slams his hands down on his desk and you jump. 

“She almost killed you,” he almost yells and your face twists at the memory. 

The Scarlet Killer terrorized Miami about three years ago before you finally brought her down. At first, she would sneak into houses of families with twins and slit the parents’ throats and kidnap the kids, but the twins would always resist so she would end up killing them too. 

After a while, she stopped caring about the twin aspect and started killing anyone with children. 

You had spent days in the office, pacing and pouring over the evidence board, trying to make sense of it. There was no DNA anywhere, but there was also no sign of forced entry, so you figured that she was invited into the house somehow. The hunt for children made you think she had lost her own, or had some sort of abusive childhood that made her want to protect kids. She was possibly a twin as well, and very amicable if people were having her over willingly. 

It took two months before you figured out the perimeter of her murders. She was making a hexagon shape with the houses of the victims. Hexagons can represent balance, so you figured she felt as if she was balancing out some score with the universe for something that had happened to her. 

And then one fateful night, you realized where her next target was. A family had just moved into a house perfectly on the border of the hex, as people around the office started calling it, and they had twins. 

You spent almost an entire week camped out in front of their house waiting for the Scarlet Killer to strike. You think during that time, you slept a total of ten hours. Hallucinations plagued you and you would doze off and then wake up babbling something about catching her. Agents would bring food by your car and beg you to take a break, but you kept your eyes strained on the house, determined that you wouldn’t let her get away with it again, determined to prove that you were right about where she’d be.

And you were. 

Except the knocking that should’ve been on the front door of the house, the knocking that would inevitably lead to more death, was on your car window. 

You had jolted awake to find a redheaded woman standing there, looking worried. You opened the door and got out to help her when she had pulled a knife out and stabbed you in the stomach. 

Thank god she didn’t go for her usual M.O. of slitting throats. 

You were able to weakly unholster your gun and take a shot at her as she was running away and by the yelp, you knew you had hit her. A consolation prize as your vision faded to black. 

Somehow, you woke up two days later in a hospital room, Director Tony Stark by your bedside. They had caught the killer a block away thanks to the appendix your bullet had ruptured that rendered her unconscious, a woman named Wanda Maximoff, who had lost her twins in a horrible house fire, and made it a mission to try and replace them.

And her knife had missed anything important, and all you had was a nasty scar and the weariness from everyone else whenever there was a new female serial killer to catch. 

“She didn’t kill me though,” you tell Tony, who rolls his eyes. “I’ll be careful. I won’t get too involved this time.”

He slides open a drawer and takes out a file and a business card that he holds out to you. You reach across the desk to grab the two and you scan the card. 

Rio Vidal, Therapist, Westview. With an email and phone number. 

You hold it up and raise an eyebrow. “You want me to see a shrink?” You already completed your mandated fifteen hours of therapy after the Maximoff incident and you weren’t eager to go back. 

“You don’t have to, it’s just so you have an option. In case you feel yourself becoming too ‘involved.’” 

You purse your lips but you slip it into your pocket and tighten your grip on the file. “Guess I’ll see you whenever we catch her.” 

He salutes you and you make your way to the jet out back. 

It’s a three hour flight and you spend your entire time pouring over the case file. You know there’s still some information that you’ll have to get from the Westview PD, like witness statements and exclusive photos that haven’t been released yet, but what you do have is brutal. 

Photos of shriveled up bodies with barely any skin still on their bones, their cheeks hollowed out, like something sucked the life out of them. Not to be sexist, but you can tell why Director Hayward thought it was a woman. 

Although there’s a gaping hole in their chests where a heart used to be, the cuts are neat, precise. And the blood has been completely cleaned up. What should be the bloodiest crime scene you’ve ever seen is void of any fluid, like the killer methodically mopped and bleached and cleansed the scene of everything. But this also means that the victims are dead before the heart is cut out, from the poison. 

The most chilling thing is the singular, perfect flower placed in the cavity of their chest.

You flip through the toxicology reports but can’t really make sense of anything. One report says one chemical was the cause of death, another report says another. The levels of chemicals in the bloodstream are also different from victim to victim. 

It reminds you of Jolly Jane Toppan, who would experiment with different medicines and chemicals to murder patients at hospitals. 

Is the killer a nurse? A chemist? You’re able to figure out why she’s called The Witch, because it’s like she’s brewing up potions of sorts, but you have no idea why she would bother cutting their hearts out if she’s killing them with poison. 

The precision of the blade also means that her hands are steady. Another reason she could be a nurse. 

You flip through the pictures of all the victims – eleven, so far – and the first victim’s cut is just as accurate as the last victim. This woman is either a natural, or this isn’t the first time she’s killed. 

Pulling out your computer, you search the database for any serial killer cases that match this same type of crime, male or female. You’re still not entirely convinced she’s working alone. 

But there’s nothing. No cold cases, no open cases. She has truly shown up out of nowhere. 

You tap your fingers to the tray table, your mind trying to make sense of the details for the rest of the flight. 

When the plane lands, you’re ushered into an uber and taken to the motel where you’ll be staying. Your rental car is already in the parking lot. Even though Westview is a small town, it means a lot that they’re giving you all these accommodations. 

Your room is complete with a kitchenette, a queen sized bed, and a good sized bathroom. You drop the files on the table, throw your suitcase in the bedroom, and grab your work bag before locking the door behind you. 

The rental car is a small sedan that has a strange smell, but it does the job and you drive through the quaint twisting roads to get to the police station. You park up front, take a deep breath, and walk in. 

No one stops you or asks what you’re doing here (no wonder this case hasn’t been solved yet) so you make your way to the back where you find the Chief’s office. 

He’s a skinny man with a mustache, spots of something that looks like mustard on his shirt, talking to a woman with her back to you. All you can tell is that she has long, dark hair that flows down your back.

“Hi, excuse me?” You say, knocking on the glass door. The Chief stops and the woman turns around to face you and you’re momentarily struck by how attractive she is. “I’m Agent Y/N? The, uh, criminal profiler from Miami? The FBI sent me to help with The Witch case.” 

“Oh, shoot, that’s right,” the man says, wiping his hands on his jacket before standing up. “Chief Phil Jones. This is Detective Agatha Harkness–” He motions to the woman standing there who smiles knowingly, raking her eyes up and down your body. “– our best. She’s been working this case day and night.” 

“Any leads so far?” You ask her. 

“Why don’t I show you what we have so far?” She offers and you nod, following her out of the office and trying not to look at her ass. She takes you into  a different room with a bulletin board filled with pictures and string and post-it notes. You squint at it, trying to take everything in, while you hear more people enter the room behind you. 

“So, Miami, what do you think?” A man taunts and a few others snicker at him. You ignore him, you’ve been used to this your entire career. 

You’re still scanning the board when something catches your eye. The witness statements. They don’t corroborate with each other. From the six people that have seen something, they all agree that the killer had dark hair. But some say it was long, others say just past her shoulders. Some think she was taller and lean, others say shorter and just a little more filled out. There’s a detail from two witnesses that gives you pause though: they say the woman had a mask of sorts on the bottom of her face, almost like a skeleton. The other witnesses make no mention of not being able to see the killer’s entire face. 

You tap the papers. “Why don’t the statements line up?” 

“Surely you know how unreliable eyewitness testimony is,” Agatha drawls, and when you turn around, she’s watching you carefully. 

You frown. “I do know, but it seems like there’s two different people here. So either we have a copycat, which would be unlikely due to there being no change in the level of detailedness from murder to murder, or–” You trail off, chewing on your lip. You’re waiting for someone, Agatha maybe, to finish the sentence, or to tell you you’re being crazy. 

“Or?” She prompts like she’s daring you to go on. There’s a look in her eyes, a look you don’t quite recognize. 

You give the men in the room a glance. Will they laugh? “I really think we’re dealing with two killers here. Working together. One poisons the victims, the other cuts out the heart. I thought it was a man and a woman, but it seems like two women. They’re obviously very close to each other, and they’ve got it down to an easy routine.” 

“Why hasn’t anyone seen two women then?” Agatha asks, but you feel like she’s just guiding you to a realization, rather than criticizing your theory. 

You hum, tossing the question around in your head. “Maybe…maybe because they want us to think there’s only one killer? They’ve fooled everyone, even the FBI. Easy to chalk it up to faulty witness statements.” 

“Why wouldn’t they try to look alike then?” Agatha presses, and your brow furrows. It’s a good point. 

The pictures of the mutilated victims on the board stare back at you while you look for anything you could’ve missed. “Are they toying with us? Do they want us confused? The poison, the cut-out heart, the flower left behind, the different descriptions, it’s like this is a game to them. They’re cocky, they feel confident that they can’t get caught. Maybe both of them are narcissists, but definitely are on the Antisocial Personality Disorder spectrum.” 

“Why do you think they do it?” Agatha says in a hushed voice. You can’t help but notice that she seems excited. 

Is that because she finally might be getting a break in her case? 

“I don’t know,” you admit and she looks disappointed. You spin to face the board again. “There’s no obvious connection or pattern between the victims, so it doesn’t seem like there’s a personal vendetta against them. Nothing stands out about the locations either. It seems like they’re just killing for fun, right now.” 

“That’s pretty dangerous,” she says, and you can feel the front of her body brush against your back. You’ve been so entranced that you didn’t even hear her notice her coming over. “That means anyone could be next.” 

Goosebumps spread over your body at her hot breath on your neck, but her words sober you up. She’s right. You’re not able to rule out potential victims based on how many kids they have or don’t have, like with Wanda, or what they look like or don’t look like. 

“Okay,” you say, nodding your head. “We need to send out a BOLO for two women with dark hair now. Put these descriptions out, tell them to keep an eye out for a skeleton mask? Hopefully we can get some tips and put a stop to this before anyone else gets hurt.” 

“What should we call the other woman?” One of the male officers speaks up and you’re surprised that it’s an actual question. 

Agatha watches you with interest while you think about it. “How about…Lady Death?” You offer and she gives a nod of approval. “Put a BOLO out for Lady Death and The Witch.” 

You make copies of everything that’s on the board and paper clip them together to put in your bag. As you’re packing everything up to go back and leave to the motel (Tony would be proud of you for leaving the station at an acceptable time), Agatha comes over and leans on the table. 

“What do you think their relationship is? Lady Death and The Witch,” she says, amusement lacing her tone when she says their nicknames. 

You shrug. “Sisters, friends, wives? Maybe they’re just two crazy people who met each other and want to kill people.” She chuckles and studies you curiously. 

“You know, we’ve had some other profilers come in, but none of them have been like you. You know your stuff.” 

“Female serial killers are kind of my thing,” you say. “There’s just something about untangling the mystery that’s so much sweeter. Makes me feel…alive. Which I know sounds bad, because so many people have died, and I’m sorry.” 

Agatha looks like she knows exactly what you’re talking about. “No, don’t apologize. It’s exciting, isn’t it? The exhilaration, the moment when you finally get what you want, what you’ve been working toward.” Her voice is low and you nod, leaning in before you can realize what you’re doing. Your gaze drops down to her smirk and then back to her blown-out pupils. “Do you think you’ll be able to find them?” 

“Yeah, I do,” you breathe, and she looks positively delighted. Out of nowhere, the scar on your stomach stings and you grimace. Agatha looks at you, concerned but you brush it off. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then?” You ask, standing up and slinging your bag onto your shoulder. 

“See you then, superstar,” she says with a grin and watches you leave. 

When you get back to the motel, you spread all the pictures and notes out, trying to connect some dots. You scribble down Friends? Sisters? Lovers? on a sticky note and press it to the wall. 

Why do you think they do it? Agatha’s question still haunts you. You don’t want to believe that it’s just for fun, there has to be some meaning, some motive for poisoning and then physically removing hearts. There has to be some significance to the flower left behind. 

But what is it? 

Your stomach grumbles so you decide to take a step back and go pick up food from a restaurant in town. As you’re pulling out of the parking lot to come back to the motel with wings and french fries, you get a call from Tony Stark. You accept it, taking a sip from your cup quickly. 

“Hey, Director,” you say. 

“There she is! How’s it going?” 

You shrug even though he can’t see you. “Not too bad. Just went and got dinner. See, I’m taking care of myself.” 

He laughs like it’s the funniest joke he’s heard. “Glad to hear it. Any new leads in the case?” 

“There’s two women, not one. They’re working together.” There’s silence on his end of the line for a second and you wonder if he heard you. “Did you–?

“Yeah, I got that. Shit, so you think you’re looking for partners? I don’t like this,” he says. 

“I’m okay, I promise. What happened with Wanda won’t happen this time,” you reassure him as you turn back into the motel lot. “I’ll check in with you whenever you want. I’ll go see that shrink. I’ll be careful.” You’re worried that he’ll pull you off the case if he thinks you’re too obsessed. Your hyperfixation tendencies almost cost you your life, and you know Tony doesn’t want that to happen to you again. He’s become somewhat of a father figure to you since you started working there, and it’s touching how much he cares.

He hums in satisfaction. “I expect you to eat three meals a day and get at least five hours of sleep.” Before you can protest, he continues. “And I want you to make an appointment with that therapist. Just get ahead of your spiral, maybe talking about the case with someone removed will help you be more level-headed.” 

“I will,” you vow. “Okay, just got back to the motel, I’ll talk to you later.” He says goodbye and hangs up. When you get out of the car with your food, the hair on the back of your neck stands up and your scar tingles. 

Something feels off. 

You get to your door to find it slightly ajar and you frown. You remember locking it. Maybe room service cleans at night? 

“Hello?” You call, pushing it open. Taking a few cautious steps into the room, you scan from wall to wall looking for anything or anyone.

There’s no one there, nothing seems out of place except for your suitcase that is now on your bed. You tentatively walk over to it and unzip it, jumping back like you’re expecting something to pop out. Inside, you find all the clothes you packed gone, and entirely replaced by a new wardrobe. Pulling them out, you gasp when you find cashmere sweaters and silky blouses and comfortable but professional looking pants. There’s a bottle of perfume with the word “Thanatos” printed in perfect calligraphy and you take a whiff. It smells like flowers and wood at the same time and it makes you think of a forest. 

So someone broke into your motel room just to give you some new clothes and perfume? You rustle through the rest of the suitcase and a piece of paper flutters to the floor. 

Heart pounding, you lean down to pick it up. It’s the same sticky note that you put on your wall before you left to get food. 

Friends? Sisters? Lovers? 

Only now, the word ‘lovers’ is circled, with a small heart drawn. You drop the paper like you’ve been burned and run over to where all your case information is and you feel nauseous. 

Nothing has been touched. Nothing is out of place. 

Except for the single purple azalea resting on the middle of the table. 

They were here. 

[lovelettersfromluna]

Not Strong Enough

Summary: Rule number 1 of being best friends with a vampire. Never let them drink your blood.

an: I HEAR YOU ALL YELLING AT ME IM SORRY!! This took entirely too long to get to you guys, but it’s here now! Better late than never right?? Is this heavily inspired by twilight? Yes. Did I use a BoyGenius song as the title? It’s lesbian smut, obviously. Is Ellie going to be a brooding depressed vampire? Oh hell yeah. I hope you all like this! I’m a slut for anything supernatural so this was obvi very fun for me to write. As always, love you all so so much! Thanks for reading 🤍

Warnings: SMUT!!, MDNI!!, scissoring (if ur mad I’m doing another scissoring fic….idk what to tell you it’s hot), messy kissing, Ellie bites reader (outside of blood sucking), mentions of marking, mentions of bruises, mentions of blood, Ellie is kind of insufferable for a small bit but I promise it gets better, please lmk if I missed anything!

Read part 1 here!!

Ellie knew it was a bad idea from the very beginning.

She knew that she was too weak for you, even outside of sucking your blood. You were too fucking good for her, too much of a dream for Ellie to go and fuck up like she did.

Truth be told, Ellie expected all of it. She expected to get utterly addicted to you, she expected the blurred lines of your relationship to become even more blurred when she began sucking you dry of your life source, she even expected herself to lose control when she was in the act, humping and grinding your soft body like a wild fucking animal as if she had no control over herself.

She expected all of it, every single aspect that came with the territory, she knew was coming.

But the hardest part of it all? Was leaving you completely.

Because she knew the moment she felt herself lose control while she was on top of you that night in your apartment, she knew she needed to leave you. She needed to abandon you and your friendship for the greater good, for your sake.

Ellie knew that she wasn’t good for you, and you weren’t good for her. But that didn’t make the pain of not seeing you any less.

She thought she’d be able to do it at first, but the texts from you only reminded her of how much she loved your company, how obsessed she was with simply being around you.

She wound frown every time her phone went off, a low groan leaving her lips when she lifted it up to look at her screen, only to see it was from you.

Ellieeeeee

Where are you?

Haven’t seen u in the longest :((

Ellie can practically hear your pout in the way you text her. She knows you too well, and she knows that you aren’t handling her sudden disappearance well.

At this point, it’s been about two months since Ellie has seen you last? Maybe three? She stopped keeping count because it was driving her insane. It wasn’t even the blood supply that she missed, Ellie would go hungry ten times over, dying from starvation if it meant she could be around you without feeling she was robbing you of your life, ruining things that you were meant to experience because she was too fucking selfish.

Ellie misses you, and it pains her that she hasn’t been able to have you in so long.

Well…not entirely at least. She knew she’d lose her mind entirely if she couldn’t at least be around you for a few moments, so her usual nighttime visits become a bit more frequent when she decides she can’t be around you anymore. She’s a lot more careful when she does it though, knowing how sensitive you were to her presence. It was almost unbelievable how easily you’d woken up to her in your room in the past. She doesn’t know how she’d explain things if you woke up now, not having seen her in so long. So she’s extra aware of how much noise she makes.

Seeing you sleep is almost enough to keep Ellie’s demons at bay, the ones that screamed for you, yearned for you to be by her side, to have your warm skin pressed against her much colder one.

As per usual, she’s scaling up the brick wall of your apartment building, making her way up to your bedroom like thief in the night. You continue to leave your window open every night, and it breaks Ellie’s heart because she knows you’re doing it for her, most likely hoping she slips into your window as she usually does.

It means Ellie needs to be even more careful than she anticipated.

She doesn’t even dare to sit on your bed, standing in the corner of your room as she watches your chest rise and fall. She doesn’t even breathe, scared that the sound of it will wake you.

And she desperately wants to reach out and let her fingers run along your soft skin, desperate for the feeling that you always brought her when you’re near. It makes her fists balk at her sides as she practically itches to feel you, fighting back any and every thought that she had to touch you, if even for a moment.

But she doesn’t. Instead, he stays with you just before the sun rises. She knows it’s risky, and she knows she shouldn’t do it in the event that you wake up and see her. Even if she’s fast enough to dart out of your room before you can even call her name or turn the lights on, you’re too smart for that. You’d know what was happening before she can even begin to gaslight you into thinking it was simply a dream.

She can’t help herself, not when it comes to you. Seeing you sleep satisfies the burning feeling in her chest, the one that yearns so desperately for you, it’s enough to make her knees weak. It’s almost like you’re capable of evoking the same feelings she had when she was a human, when she was weak and stupid and felt nervous around women. Until you showed up, Ellie hadn’t experienced those feelings in a long time, she’d almost forgotten about them.

You always remind her though.

Like when she’s about to leave you, knowing she’s cutting it too close to the time you’re going to wake up and start your day. Her footsteps are practically silence, even against the old, creaky floorboards of your apartment.

She’s almost out of your window, one leg outside as she plants her foot against the fire escape when she hears it. You began mumbling in your sleep, tossing a bit, clearly bothered by whatever dream you were having. While this should’ve been the clearest sign for Ellie to leave as quickly as possible before your eyes opened a bit to see her, she doesn’t. Instead, she stays sat on your window sill, simply watching as you turn to face her, eyes still closed as you pout in your sleep.

If Ellie had a heart that was still beating, she’s sure it would’ve stopped. Because suddenly your mumbling is just clear enough for her to hear.

“Ellie….” You sigh out softly, barely loud enough for the undead girl to hear, but she does. Regardless of the city waking up below her, or the sound of your ceiling fan creaking about, she hears it. It makes her frown deeply, swallowing back the intense whimper that threatens to escape and echo throughout your room.

She isn’t sure if she’s ever left your room so quickly, the girls eyes going wide as she made the familiar path down the side of your building to your side walk.

Even when she got home that night, the vampire practically breaking the front door down of her apartment to get in, she couldn’t get the sound of your voice uttering her name so sweetly, calling out for her even in the depths of sleep that you were in, tugged so deeply by your dreams, you were still calling out for her.

Ellie knew that night, that she had to stay away from her. For both your sake, and her own.

And she’s right, because you were suffering just as much as Ellie was.

Ellie’s presence was always scarce, and while it bothered you a bit before you learned what she was, it made sense. She was a creature of the night, something that seemingly only existed in storybooks, coming to life and living the strange lifestyle that she did.

But you knew immediately that this was different.

The morning after you saw Ellie last left a bitter taste in your mouth. As you woke up that morning, your neck sore with the bruises of Ellie’s lips on your skin, body far too drained and tired even after a night of a sleep that was just a bit too deep. It was similar to almost all the times Ellie had drank from you the night prior.

So, why did you feel so bad that morning?

You knew that you didn’t owe Ellie anything, that you were the one to suggest this in the first place, so there truly wasn’t any room for you to be upset for reasons unknown. What were you even supposed to say to her? That you had a weird feeling? One that you desperately wanted her to relieve by telling you it was all okay?

As much as you wanted to, you knew things between you and Ellie weren’t like that.

You were her friend. You were just her friend, and as much as you wanted more, you knew deep down that if Ellie truly wanted you that way, she would’ve made you she’s a long time ago.

And maybe that’s what bothers you the most when this little dry spell occurs, because the sudden lack of her presence leaves you entirely too much time to dwell on things, wondering what it was that you did wrong, what you could have possibly said to create this sudden rift between the two of you.

Ellie had always been flirtatious, flashing that pretty smile in your direction that made you weak in the knees, calling you sweet names that made your heart beat faster. She was practically dangling it all right in front of your face, the frequent touches, the late night visits at the foot of your bed, all this time when you have her the benefit of the doubt, chalking it all up to her simply wanting to see you and nothing more than that, suddenly made no sense to you.

With time came confusion, and with confusion came anger, desperate to understand why she left you, what you had done to possibly make her so scarce so suddenly. And once the third month had hit without seeing Ellie, you were furious, feeling as though you had one choice and one choice only.

To find Ellie, and get the answers from her yourself.

You don’t go to Ellie’s apartment, not usually at least.

Ellie always told you she liked hanging out at your place, going on and on about how warm and cozy it was being there. She’d never admit it to you because she didn’t want you to think she was a freak, but being in a place that smelled so heavily like you made her brain go absolutely insane.

You’ve been there maybe a handful of times, sometimes heading to her place after a night out, or even stopping by whenever you were in the neighborhood. Bottom line was, your apartment was the designated hang out spot for you and Ellie.

Regardless though, you remember how to get there like it’s written on the back of your hand. You thought about Ellie’s apartment a lot, loving how much the space reflected her. You always wished you had the chance to stay there more often.

You can’t think about that though, not now. Not when you’re storming down the expensive halls of her complex down to her door, and landing a heavy fist on the door. All you can truly care about now, is seeing Ellie and demanding an explanation for her sudden disappearance.

And it’s all so unlike you, so out of your character. If it was anyone else, you’d let it go, giving yourself a few days to sulk before forgetting about it all together and simply moving on. Maybe it’s because it’s Ellie, and maybe it’s because you feel a tad bit used after being her personal buffet for the last few times you’d been around her, just for her to up and leave.

It’s most definitely that. You just don’t want to admit it in fears of sounding selfish.

You land another firm knock on her door when she doesn’t answer in time, feeling yourself grow angrier as the moments pass.

Soon, she’s finally opening the door. The image of her nearly takes your breath away.

Because Ellie always looks beautiful, perhaps it’s the fact that you haven’t seen her in some time, but she looks fucking ethereal standing before you. So tall, so confident, her eyes so fucking dark, piercing through your very soul as she stares down at you. Her lips look like rubies compared to her cold, pale skin, so plump and kissable.

All you can think about is the way they felt pressed against your throat, and it makes you lift your hand to press against the two small circular scars on your neck.

Ellie frowns deeply as she eyes you, eyebrows furrowed and expression virtually unreadable.

“What are you doing here” she mumbles out, shifting on her feet awkwardly. Her question alone sets the fire off in your chest again, making you seethe as you take a deep inhale before responding.

“Are you kidding me Ellie?” You practically spit out, staring up at the girl in disbelief.

She lets out a soft sigh, her tattooed hand coming up to rub her face roughly before it moves up to rub through her hair.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” she manages before she tries shutting her door in your face. “You can’t be here” she mumbles out softly, the girl fully expecting to be able to shut the door.

You however, have other plans.

You’re quick to press your hand against the door, stopping her from closing it before you practically force yourself between it. Ellie’s eyes widen a bit at this, not used to seeing you so forward.

Soon, you’re pushing yourself into her apartment, your palm pressing against your forehead as you began pacing back and forth Ellie’s lavish apartment.

“I don’t…I don’t understand you Ellie. Is it something I said? Did I do something? If so please enlighten me I beg you” you blurt out, all of the words fumbling out of your mouth in one breath.

Ellie frowns deeply as she watches you pace back and forth her apartment, her eyebrows furrowed. She can truly see the damaged shes caused when she sees you like this, because it was much easier to watch you when you slept, so peaceful and unaware of the troubles that came with her absence. She knew you were going to blame yourself, and as much as she knew she couldn’t allow you to do that to yourself, she knew staying away was even more important.

Seeing you like this was possibly the hardest thing Ellie had to ever endure.

You don’t stop there, taking advantage of the lack of a response from Ellie to continue ranting.

“Is it because of the blood thing? If so I’m sorry. I am so fucking sorry for simply caring enough to make sure you didn’t die from starvation or whatever it is that happens to you when you don’t eat. I’m sorry for making sure that you were okay, if that was so wrong please tell me…” your words trail off as you let out an exasperated sigh, your feelings and emotions becoming far too much as you practically sob out to her.

But then you’re pausing, your chest rising and falling quickly as you struggle to catch your breath. Ellie isn’t entirely sure why you’ve suddenly stopped, your back towards her as you stand there, doing god knows what.

When you finally turn around, your eyes are red and your cheeks are wet with tears.

“Were you just….using me? As your personal fucking blood bag?” Your words are shaky as you hold back another sob, your fists balled down at your sides.

Ellie freezes when you say this, because this is exactly what she was fucking afraid of.

It was a common theme throughout…her people. Vampires were notoriously alluring, seducing countless innocent and clueless victims into being their personal meal. The humans were almost always oblivious to what was being done to them, vampires often times using this to their advantage to keep them under their spell for as long as possible. It would most commonly been done in a way that made the humans believe the vampires loved them, dangling them by a thread as they promised them a life of eternity together, to live in immortality, side by side until the end of times. It almost never ended that way though, the vampires would suck and suck and suck until one day they went a bit too far, and their obedient human keeled over and died.

Ellie never wanted things to be that way with you.

She never even wanted you to think it was that way. She wanted you to understand that this was entirely up to you, and it could stop whenever you wanted it to. It’s why she constantly voiced to you that this was still a factor right before she fed off of you. Ellie would rather die than use you for a source of food, because truthfully you were far too good for that, too fucking pure to be used as something as low as a food source.

So when the words leave your lips, Ellie sees red.

Shes in front of you in less than a second, towering over you and staring down into your tear soaked eyes. Her nostrils are flared as she tries to hold back from tearing down her entire apartment complex around the both of you.

“You can’t possibly be stupid enough to think I’d ever use you for something so low..” her voice is low, and there’s a gravel in it that makes your core tighten and your chest bloom with something you can’t quite place, a feeling that can only be shelved in your mind right next to where Ellie takes place.

You don’t hack one, hot tears continuing to spill from your eyes as you stare at her with furrowed eyebrows.

“It makes sense….get your fix and then leave me like I’m nothing…this was probably your plan all along” you grit out.

Ellie licks her lips, knowing that you’re hurting just as much as she is, and your words are simply coming from a place of confusion, desperate to understand why she did what she did to you, why she left without a trace.

She leans in, her face a mere inches from yours. You can smell her minty breath wafting onto your face, and it’s bizarre because even that has a slight chill to it. It makes your cheeks cold, and it makes you want to reach out and warm her up.

“I would rather die a million deaths before using you for that…you and I both know this” she seethes out.

And it makes you whimper, because Ellie’s always been so fucking intense, so poetic. It makes your insides flip upside down, and your eyebrows knit together as you struggle to hold back a whimper.

Your features soften as you continue to cry in front of her. “Then why did you leave me…” you whisper out to the girl.

It breaks her heart how desperate you are for this. Not even for her, but simply for answers. All you want is to understand why she left, what you did to make her abruptly disappear without a single word.

Ellie’s eyes flutter shut for a moment, her pink tongue darting out to lick her plush lips before she finally speaks.

“I’ve never…been so weak for someone…in my entire life” she breaths out.

It surely isn’t what you’re expecting her to say. You think she’s going to say she’s gotten enough of you, or she just couldn’t handle having someone like you around. Hell, you were even beginning to think she was trying to cover up all her roots here and start somewhere else.

“I always have been…from the moment I fucking laid eyes on you, I knew you weren’t good for me…you’re too good for me” she continues, her eyes fluttering open as she finally stares down into yours. You can finally look into yours as you blink away the tears that are pooling in your eyes and blurring your vision, and it allows you to see the pain in her eyes, just how much she’d been struggling with all of this.

“It isn’t even your blood…it made it worse, yes…but just being around you is like…it’s like a fucking drug to me. You give me this feeling that I can’t…I can’t even begin to describe how fucking euphoric you make me feel” each of her words sounds like a plea, a plea for you to let her go, to unhand her from the death grip you have on her.

“And suddenly I’m always in your apartment, and you’re offering yourself to me and it’s like a dream come true and I feel like a fucking monster when I’m on top of you, sucking you dry of your fucking blood” it’s her turn to start pacing, running her hands through her hair as she settles one of her hands on her hip, she moves slower than you were, simply voicing the struggles she’s seemed to have with you from the moment you met.

She finally turns towards you, and she’s slowing make her way to where you’ve been standing this entire time. When she’s right back where she was, stood right in front of you, she takes your hand into hers ever so gently. It’s enough to make you flinch, how cold she is in contrast to your hot skin. She sighs, bringing your hand up to cradle her cheek, and her eyes flutter shut, nearly rolling back as she presses a soft kiss to your palm.

“I’m not strong enough for you…I don’t think I ever will be” she finally admits, and it’s like she’s not only admitting it to you, but to herself as well.

You hold back a whine as she kisses your palm, her lips so soft, so gentle with you.

“Then…then don’t be…why can’t you just let things happen” you sigh out as you stare up at her, in awe as the girl leaned into your touch as if it were her life line.

You aren’t even entirely sure what you’re asking her for, what this so called ‘thing’ is that she won’t let happen. Is it the feeding you’re alluding to? An act of true platonic kindness? Or are you asking for more, are you begging for something that Ellie has deprived you both of for the sake of the greater good?

Both you and Ellie have these same questions running through your minds.

She chuckles dryly against your skin, shaking her head as her hand gives your wrists a gentle squeeze.

“You aren’t even sure what it is you’re asking for…not from someone like me” she admits, eyes opening as she finally looks down at you again.

“I can’t…give you the things you deserve. I’m not capable of being the perfect person for you, not when I am what I am” her words are like venom on her tongue, the girl utterly disgusted with the monster that she became against her own will, the hell that she was forced to live over and over again with no foreseeable end.

“The only thing I can do, is take from you…I take and take and take….” Her words trail off, a soft frown on her lips before she finally looks at you once again.

“Until I’ve taken everything that you have…and there is no more of you to offer” she whispers out, as if the mere thought of a world without you pains her so much to say, she barely wants to say it.

You lick your lips, your eyes searching hers before you quickly shake your head.

“Do you want me? The same way that I want you?” You question carefully, fearful of what it is that she might say, worried that you’d been reading things entirely wrong, even after Ellie basically confessed how utterly obsessed she is with you.

She smirks softly, humming lowly as she gently brings your hand down to her lips, pressing another gentle kiss to it.

“It’s like I’ve waited my entire life for you, baby….saying that I want you would be an understatement” she chuckles out softly.

And you aren’t entirely sure how it even gets to this point, because you marched over to Ellie’s apartment with a purpose, that purpose being to yell at her and get the answers you deserved. But suddenly you’re standing in front of her, and your heart is exploding with so many different emotions and feelings, all of them for Ellie, and she’s just confessed to you that she wants you like you want her.

And you have no choice, but to kiss her.

It catches Ellie off guard, a soft whine leaving her lips as accepts your lips with gratitude, her arms moving down to drape along your waist as she pulls you closer.

It’s everything she’s ever dreamt it would be. Your lips soft and sweet against her own, your skin so warm and inviting, making her drink you up, fueling her with the warmth she’s lacked since the day she died. But despite how good it feels, she knows this is wrong, and it goes against everything she said she’d do for your sake.

Ellie breaks way first, watching as you struggle to catch your breath from the intense kiss. She’s quick to stop you from leaning in again, her hand cupping your face as she stares into your eyes.

“Angel…we can’t…I told you, I’m no good for you” she sighs out, the words paining her to even say.

You give her a soft pout, your arms wrapping around her shoulders loosely as you press your warm body against hers.

“I trust you Ellie….I know that you’d never hurt me” you sigh out softly as you stare into her eyes, your hand coming up to tuck a strand of her soft hair behind her ear.

“We don’t have to do the blood thing…but I just…can’t we just give us a try?” Your eyes are wide as you speak, eager to feel Ellie’s lips against yours again, even if for a moment. You don’t even take into consideration that she could say no, that she could turn you around and throw you out of her apartment without another word, doubling down on what she said she’d do with you.

But as Ellie said before, she’s just too fucking weak for you.

And hearing you ask for it, ask for her, it has her stomach in knots, and she feels like no matter what it is you ask her, she couldn’t possibly say no to you.

“What are you doing to me…” she sighs softly before she leans in to kiss you again, reciprocating the passion and heat that you gave her mere moments ago. You whine against her, your hands sliding back to tug at her hair, keeping her close as your lips moves against hers, your warm tongue sliding against hers.

“Missed you so much…” you sigh against her, and it makes Ellie groan softly as she nods, hands sliding down to grip your waist as she walks you back towards her bedroom, lips never leaving yours.

“Missed you more than anything, angel” she mumbles against your lips as she presses her palm against her bedroom door behind you, pushing it open and leading you further inside.

Ellie’s bedroom smells like her. It’s dark, and cold but oh so comforting. You practically sigh against her lips when you feel her laying your body down against her black silk sheets, the expensive material like butter on your skin. It makes your senses go in overdrive, Ellie’s hands caressing your skin, roaming around your body as her tongue rubs against yours in a dirty, passionate kiss.

“Don’t know how long I’ve waited to have you like this…” she sighs softly, her lips breaking away from yours to kiss along your jaw, down to your throat. You don’t miss the way Ellie kisses the now faded marks of her teeth on your neck, licking the skin softly before she sucks into it, sure to leave dark marks in the morning.

“Missed marking you up baby….” She hums against you, drinking in the sweet moans that leave your mouth, the sound alone like music to her ears.

Your mind is fuzzy, almost blank besides the thoughts of Ellie that stood in the forefront of your brain. It was like she was filling you up entirely, making you almost overwhelmed with her. Her scent, her cold skin, her soft hands, all of it was almost too much, a combination of sensory overload that kissed your skin so deliciously.

Soon she’s kissing down your body, practically worshiping her as her lips work on your soft skin. Her hands are pushing up your t-shirt, kissing your stomach and your ribcage until she’s tugging you up a bit to skillfully slip your shirt over your head. You’re bare before her, her lips matching onto your pebbled nipples as her tattooed hands work on your soft shorts, tugging them down your legs.

You don’t miss the way her tongue swirls around your nipple before letting go with a pop, lips moving up to nip at your collar bone with her flat teeth. Hard enough to leave a mark, but gentle enough to not break skin.

You giggle softly, bending your legs back to help as she tugs your shorts and panties off. She’s slotting herself between your legs, humming softly as she gives you a smirk.

“Something funny baby?” She questions before leaning in to press another kiss to the corner of your lips. You nod, a dreamy smile on your lips as you bring your hand down to tug at the hem of Ellie’s t-shirt.

“Seems like old habits never die, that’s all….need this off” you huff out softly, fingers fumbling between the hem of her t shirt and the waistband of her sweats.

Ellie chuckles at how eager you are before she nods, pulling back to tug her shirt off before she rolls over a bit to pull off her sweats and underwear as well before she makes her way back between your legs, towering over you as she crawls into you like a predator would its prey.

And it leaves your pussy soaking wet, because it’s better than you could’ve ever imagined. Ellie’s tits are pebbled similarly to yours, tattoos littering her pretty skin, muscles so beautiful they could make your mouth fucking water.

You’d always seen Ellie for the beauty she possessed…but this? This was so much more different.

It made your head fucking spin.

You whined softly as you practically tug her into her by her shoulders, moaning softly at the feeling of her boobs squishing against yours as your mouth attacks her in a needy kiss.

“Want you…” you sigh softly against her as your hand slides down between the both of you, cupping her pussy. You feel Ellie suck in a sharp breath at the feeling of your warm fingers against her sopping wet core, and she gives you an eager nod before rolling over, her strong hands gripping your thighs and taking you with her as she forces you to straddle her.

Being on top of Ellie is just as good as being under her, almost better in all honesty. The lighting in her bedroom is dim, but you can just make out her features with the moonlight that spills in through her big windows, and the moody lights she has set up along her walls. You don’t even realize it because you’re too busy gawking at her, but she lifts her leg up a bit and easily slots you down so that your pussy is right against hers, the feeling making you moan softly.

“You’re so pretty Ellie…” you practically sigh out. It makes Ellie moan softly, and she swears the sound of you calling her pretty is enough to bring her back to life, reversing the effects of her undead state.

“Fuck…can’t say those things to me baby…you’re gonna…Jesus..ruin me” she struggles to get out as she grips your hips, forcing you to roll your hips so that your clit and her clit bumps against each other.

Your eyes flutter shut when you feel it. It’s so fucking wet, and soft, and it’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before. Sure you’d done it with other girls before, but this just feels…it almost feels like….

“Like you were fucking made for me princess” Ellie grits out, her teeth caging her words in as she fucks you down onto her pussy, practically using you for both hers and your pleasure.

You’re too far gone to pick up on it, too indulged in the feeling of Ellie’s strong hands gripping your thighs so deliciously, sure to leave marks in their shape when you both wake up in the morning.

Your back is arching almost painfully, your hand gripping her thigh as you find the rhythm Ellie has set for you, finding the perfect spot and keeping it there as you drive both you and her to your orgasms.

“I’m…Ellie you feel so good…you’re gonna make me cum” you squeak out, eyebrows furrowed as you finally look down at the girl beneath you, only to find that she’s just as much of a mess as you are. Her hair is messy and her lips look so pouty and kissable. It’s hard to make out, but her fanged teeth are pressing into her lips, and you’re sure it’s the sexiest thing you’ve seen in your entire life.

She gives you an encouraging nod, one of her hands coming to your ass and kneading it harshly before giving it a firm spank, the sinful noise echoing off the walls of her pristine bedroom.

“I know baby…I know…come on, want you to cum with me…that’s it…that’s my good girl” her praises make your chest burn, and it leaves knots in your stomach. It only drives you further, your hips moving faster as they roll against Ellie’s, desperately chasing both hers and your orgasm.

“Ellie…Ellie I’m…I’m gonna-“ you cry out, back arching as you grip her thighs quickly, feeling your own shake as your orgasm begins washing over you.

Ellie catches it right before it happens, the girl quickly sitting up and wrapping her arms around your body, pressing your chest against hers as she pulls you down to kiss her passionately, her own orgasm washing over her like a fucking train.

Your bodies are so in tune, so in sync that your moans almost mix to create a symphony that can only be described as love, total and unconditional love as her arms keep you close, as if stopping you from running away from her, from the feeling she gives you. Her lips are working against yours as you breath hard, struggling to catch your breath in the sloppy kiss.

You’re a whining mess, your poor pussy far too sensitive to deal with the amount of pleasure that Ellie brought to you, all of it washing over you like an intense sea of euphoria, nearly drowning you as you held onto the girl with weak hands.

She knows you’re weak, because she’s pulling you down to rest your warm body against her cool sheets, all while keeping her cool body pressed against yours to bring you back down to earth with her.

“That’s it baby…I know….did so good for me…” she sighs softly as she leaves gentle kisses against your cheeks and eyes, watching as the aftermath of your orgasm slowly pulls you to the depths of sleep, all of it too much on your body.

“My beautiful girl…my girl…my girl…” she hums out, almost like a song as she watches you cling to her in your sleep, soft hums and huffs leaving your lips, all of which makes Ellie smile adoringly at you as she holds you while you sleep.

And even while you’re settling into one of the deepest sleeps you’ve ever experienced, you don’t miss the soft kisses against your lips and cheeks, all paired with the constant, non stop praises from Ellie.

You especially don’t miss the way she leans in settles against the pillow next to you, mumbling the softest, sweetest words to you as her hands caressing your naked body.

“I love you, pretty girl..”

[moonlightwritingf1]

The taste of desire | LN4

🥧 summary ━━━━━━━ Y/N and Lando share a flirtatious, passionate moment while cooking, ending with a kiss and a mutual desire to explore their chemistry.

🥧 pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

🥧 word count ━━━━━━━ 4k

🥧 warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content

The sizzle of oil in the pan filled the kitchen, a gentle symphony that masked the undeniable thrum of tension between them. Y/N stood at the counter, her hands moving with precision as she chopped vegetables, the knife gliding effortlessly through carrots and celery. Her focus was sharp, but every now and then, she’d catch Lando out of the corner of her eye—his tall frame leaning casually against the fridge, his arms crossed, his lips twitching into a smirk whenever their gazes met.

He’s watching me. The thought sent a flutter through her chest, quick and insistent, like a hummingbird beating its wings. She shook it off, forcing herself to concentrate on the task at hand. But no matter how hard she tried, the air between them felt charged, crackling with something she couldn’t name but couldn’t ignore either.

“Need some help?” Lando asked, pushing off the fridge and sauntering over. His voice was smooth, casual, but there was an edge to it that made her stomach dip.

“I think I’ve got it,” she replied, not looking up. Her tone was light, but her fingers tightened around the knife handle as he came closer. The warmth of his presence seemed to wrap around her, magnetic and impossible to resist.

“You sure?” He was right behind her now, so close she could feel the heat radiating from his body. “Because I’m pretty handy in the kitchen.”

She glanced over her shoulder at him, arching an eyebrow. “Handy, huh?''

“Totally,” he said, flashing her that grin of his—the one that made her heart skip a beat. “I can chop faster than you can.”

“Oh, really?” She turned fully to face him, tilting her head. “Care to prove it?”

For a moment, he just stared at her, those blue/ green eyes of his glinting with challenge. Then, without warning, he reached past her for the cutting board. His hand brushed against hers, sending a jolt of electricity through her veins. He didn’t pull away. Instead, he leaned in closer, his breath warm against her ear.

“Watch and learn,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

Y/N’s pulse quickened as she watched his hands move with practiced ease, the knife slicing through the vegetables with precision. There was something undeniably captivating about the way he moved, the way he exuded confidence even in something as mundane as chopping carrots. And yet, it wasn’t just his skill that had her captivated. It was the way he looked at her when he thought she wasn’t paying attention, the way his gaze lingered on her lips, the way his touch seemed to linger on her skin long after he pulled away.

“See?” he said after a moment, straightening up and giving her a triumphant smile. “Told you I was handy.”

“Hmm,” she replied, feigning disinterest as she turned back to the stove. But her cheeks burned, and she could still feel the ghost of his touch on her hand.

The rest of dinner prep passed in a blur of playful banter and stolen glances. Every time they reached for the same utensil or passed each other in the narrow space, their bodies would brush, sending sparks flying between them. Lando was relentless, his touches deliberate, his teasing comments loaded with double meanings. And Y/N? Well, she might have been playing it cool, but inside, she was a mess.

By the time they sat down to eat, the atmosphere between them had shifted completely. The air was thick with unspoken desire, the tension so palpable it felt like it could be cut with a knife. They talked and laughed, but every now and then, their eyes would meet, and the world would fall away—just the two of them, locked in a silent exchange that spoke volumes.

When dinner was done, Y/N stood to clear the table, but Lando stopped her with a hand on her wrist. “Let me,” he said, his voice soft but firm.

She hesitated, her gaze flickering to his hand before meeting his eyes. “It’s fine, really.”

“I know,” he replied, his grip tightening slightly. “But I want to.”

There was something in his tone, something raw and unfiltered, that made her pause. She swallowed hard, her breath catching in her throat as she nodded. “Okay.”

As he moved around the table, collecting dishes, Y/N found herself watching him again. He was so different from anyone she’d ever known—confident, charming, with a devil-may-care attitude that somehow only added to his allure. And yet, there was something vulnerable about him too, something hidden beneath the surface that made her want to peel back the layers and see what lay beneath.

When he finished stacking the plates by the sink, he turned to her, his expression unreadable. “You know,” he said slowly, his eyes never leaving hers, “I’ve been trying to keep my distance.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “Have you?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, taking a step toward her. “But it’s getting harder and harder.”

She couldn’t look away from him, her breath hitching as he closed the gap between them. “Why?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Because,” he said, his hands settling on her hips, “you make it impossible.”

Impossible. The word echoed in her mind as she looked up at him, her heart pounding in her chest. His hands were warm against her skin, his touch sending shivers down her spine. And then, before she could say anything, he leaned down, his lips brushing against hers in a kiss so soft, so tender, it took her breath away.

“Lando,” she murmured against his mouth, her hands instinctively reaching up to tangle in his hair.

“Shh,” he whispered, pulling back slightly to look into her eyes. “Just let go.”

Y/N froze, her breath catching in her throat. Every nerve in her body was hyper-aware of him—the warmth of his body against hers, the faint scent of his cologne, the way his fingers felt like they were burning through the thin fabric of her shirt. “Lando,” she whispered, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to keep it steady. ''We should finish our dessert first.''

He laughed softly, a sound that sent vibrations through her entire body. “Dessert will still be there,” he said, his voice dropping even lower. “And so will I.”

Before she could respond, his hands slid higher, his fingertips tracing the underside of her ribs as he pressed a kiss to the side of her neck. Y/N gasped, her legs going weak beneath her. She reached out blindly, grabbing for the edge of the counter to steady herself, but Lando’s grip on her was firm, holding her in place as his lips trailed fire along her skin.

“You’re driving me crazy,” she muttered, half-heartedly trying to push him away. But there was no real force behind the movement, and they both knew it. Her hands lingered on his shoulders, her nails digging into the soft fabric of his shirt as she swayed closer to him.

Lando smirked against her neck, clearly pleased with himself. “Crazy good or crazy bad?” he teased, his voice light but his touch anything but casual. His hands moved again, one sliding up to cup her jaw while the other traced down her spine, sending shivers cascading through her.

“Both,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. Her cheeks flushed as she spoke, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Not when he was looking at her like that, like she was everything he wanted and nothing he could ever have enough of.

“Good,” he said simply, his thumb brushing across her cheekbone before he leaned in to press a kiss to her lips. It was quick, almost chaste, but it left her breathless all the same. When he pulled back, his blue/ green eyes were dark with desire, his smile gone now, replaced by something raw and unguarded.

Y/N swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the heat rising between them, the tension so thick it was almost tangible. And yet, despite the way her body screamed at her to give in, she hesitated. There was something electric about this moment, something dangerous, and she wasn’t sure if she was ready to dive headfirst into whatever this was between them.

But Lando didn’t give her time to think. He was relentless, his hands moving with purpose as he guided her backward, until her thighs hit the edge of the countertop. “Lando—” she started to protest, but he didn’t let her finish. Instead, he kissed her again, harder this time, his tongue sweeping into her mouth with a confidence that left no room for argument.

Y/N moaned against his lips, her hands fisting in his hair as she surrendered to the sensation. She could feel the hardness of the counter digging into her thighs, but it hardly registered amidst the storm of emotions swirling inside her. Lando’s hands were everywhere—on her waist, her hips, her cheeks—his touch searing through her clothes and straight to her core.

“Jesus, Y/N,” he muttered against her mouth, his voice rough with need. “You feel so fucking good.”

His words only fueled her own desire, her body arching toward his as she deepened the kiss. She could feel the evidence of his arousal pressed against her thigh, and it sent a thrill of excitement coursing through her veins. This was reckless, impulsive, but right now, she didn’t care. All that mattered was the way he made her feel, wanted, desired, needed.

Lando broke the kiss then, his breathing heavy as he pulled back just enough to meet her gaze. “Tell me to stop,” he said, his voice hoarse. “And I will.”

But neither of them really believed it. Y/N stared up at him, her chest rising and falling with each shallow breath, and shook her head. “Don’t stop,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Lando’s eyes darkened further at her response, and without another word, he lifted her effortlessly onto the counter. Y/N gasped as her legs parted instinctively, giving him access to where she needed him most. His hands gripped her thighs, his thumbs pressing into the sensitive skin just above her knees as he leaned in closer.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice nearly breaking. His breath was hot against her ear, his lips brushing against the shell as he spoke. “So beautiful.”

Y/N shivered, her hands clutching at his shoulders as she tried to steady herself. But Lando didn’t let her stay still for long. He kissed her again, his tongue delving deep as his hands roamed her body with possessive intent. One hand slid up her side, cupping her breast through the fabric of her shirt, while the other gripped her thigh.

“Fuck,” she gasped, her head falling back as his touch set her alight. She could feel the wetness pooling between her thighs, her body aching for more. “Lando…”

“I know,” he murmured, his voice laced with satisfaction. “I can feel how much you want me.”

She clung to him, her nails digging into his shoulders as she lost herself in the sensation.

“Tell me you want this. Tell me you want me.” he whispered, his voice dripping with possessiveness.

“Yes,” she breathed, her voice breaking as she met his gaze. “Yes, I want you. I need you.”

“You sure about this?” he asked, his voice low and rough, barely more than a whisper. His gaze dropped to her lips, waiting for her response with a patience that suggested he’d give her all the time she needed—though his body pressed closer, demanding otherwise.

She nodded quickly, her cheeks flushed, her voice soft but firm. “Yes. I want you, Lando. Don’t stop.”

His lips curved into a satisfied smile, and he leaned in, brushing his mouth against hers. The kiss was gentle at first, a teasing exploration that made her grip his shoulders harder. But it wasn’t enough. She wanted more—needed more. Her lips parted, inviting him deeper, and he obliged, his tongue sweeping in to tangle with hers in a dance of desire.

God, he tasted incredible. Everything about him felt electric, from the way his his hand was gripping her thigh to the steady beat of his heart against her chest. She could feel the hard length of him through his jeans, pressing insistently against her thigh, and she couldn’t suppress the shiver that ran through her at the realization.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured against her lips, his tone raw with longing. “So open, so ready for me.”

Y/N let out a shaky laugh, her nerves bubbling to the surface despite the growing heat between them. “Open? I’m not exactly in control here, Lando. You’re the one who put me on this counter.”

His eyes darkened, and he pulled back slightly, his hand leaving her breast to cup her cheek. “And you love it, don’t you? Admit it. You love how much I want you.”

The words sent a thrill through her, making her heart race. She did love it—loved the way he looked at her, as though she were the only thing that mattered. Loved the way his touch turned her insides to liquid fire. “Maybe I do,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lando’s grin was predatory, and he moved faster, his hands working her jeans down her legs with practiced efficiency. Y/N lifted her hips to help, her movements unsteady as she tried to balance while he stripped her bare. When she was free of the material, he knelt before her, his hands sliding up her thighs until they reached the fabric of her panties.

“Spread your legs for me,” he commanded, his voice a low growl that made her knees weak.

She obeyed without hesitation, her legs parting as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her underwear and pulled them aside. The cool air hit her skin, and she gasped, her arousal already slick and evident. Lando’s eyes locked onto the sight, his pupils dilating as he drank in every detail.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice thick with awe. “You’re perfect.”

Before she could respond, his mouth descended on her, and the world shattered into a thousand pieces. His tongue swirled around her clit in lazy circles, drawing out her pleasure with agonizing precision. Y/N threw her head back, gripping the edge of the counter for support as waves of ecstasy crashed over her.

“Lando,” she cried out, her voice breaking as his tongue stabbed deeper, hitting that sensitive spot inside her that made her toes curl. “Oh my god, don’t stop!”

He didn’t. If anything, he intensified his efforts, flicking his tongue rapidly against her clit while his fingers probed at her entrance, teasing but not entering. It was pure torture, and Y/N loved every second of it. Her hips bucked against his face, desperate for release, but he held her steady, keeping her right on the edge.

“Please,” she whimpered, her voice pleading. “Please, I need—”

“What do you need, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice muffled against her core but still managing to convey the smug satisfaction of a man in complete control.

“You,” she gasped. “I need you. Inside me. Now.”

Lando pulled back, his eyes glittering with triumph as he stood and stepped closer. Y/N watched as he tugged off his shirt, revealing the smooth, lean muscles of his chest. Her hands itched to touch him, to feel the warmth of his skin beneath her fingertips, but she forced herself to wait, knowing he wouldn’t keep her waiting long.

Sure enough, he was removing his jeans in seconds, kicking them aside with a smirk. Y/N’s breath caught as he stepped between her legs, his erection straining against his boxers. He hovered there for a moment, letting the anticipation build before hooking his thumbs into the fabric and pushing them down.

“Look at you,” she breathed, her voice awestruck as she took in the full length of him. “You’re… incredible.”

Lando chuckled, clearly amused by her reaction. “Only incredible?” he teased, reaching for the condom he’d placed on the counter earlier.

As he rolled it on, Y/N bit her lip, her nerves surging once more. This was it—finally, after weeks of tension and teasing, they were going to cross that line. And honestly? She couldn’t wait.

Lando must have sensed her eagerness because he positioned himself at her entrance without further delay. His eyes locked onto hers, searching for any trace of hesitation, but all he found was hunger. With a groan, he thrust forward, filling her in one smooth motion.

Y/N cried out, her back arching as the sensation overwhelmed her. It had been so long since she’d felt like this—so full, so wanted. Lando kissed her then, swallowing her gasp of pleasure as he began to move, withdrawing slowly before plunging back in with increasing urgency.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he growled against her lips, his thrusts growing rougher as he sought to claim her completely. “You feel so good. So tight around me.”

Her nails dug into his shoulders, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as she clung to him. Every stroke of his hips against hers sent shockwaves of pleasure ricocheting through her body, and she could feel the telltale tingling in her lower belly signaling her approaching orgasm.

“Lando,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I’m close. So close.”

He angled his hips, hitting that perfect spot inside her with ruthless precision. Y/N’s vision blurred as her climax shattered through her, her entire body tensing as she screamed his name. Lando followed soon after, his thrusts stuttering as he spilled himself inside her, his head falling to her shoulder as he panted for breath.

For a moment, they simply stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s arms as their hearts slowed and their breathing returned to normal. Y/N ran her fingers through his hair, marveling at how perfect everything felt—how right.

The kitchen was quiet now, save for the soft hum of the refrigerator and the occasional rattle of a pot handle swaying in the breeze from the open window. The air was thick with the scent of garlic and rosemary, but beneath it all lingered something sweeter—something undeniably intimate.

Y/N lay sprawled across the counter, her legs still wrapped around Lando’s waist, though he had shifted to rest his weight on his elbows beside her. His chest rose and fell heavily, his skin glistening with sweat, while she traced lazy patterns over his back, savoring the warmth of his body against hers. Their breaths mingled, slow and steady now, as if they were both reluctant to break the spell that had just passed between them.

“That…” Lando began, his voice low and rough, “was incredible.”

She laughed softly, a sound that was tinged with disbelief. “You don’t have to say that.”

He propped himself up on one elbow, his eyes searching hers. “I don’t have to, but I want to. You feel amazing, Y/N. You always do.”

Her cheeks flushed at the intensity of his gaze, though she couldn’t help but smile. “Well, you’re not so bad yourself.”

He grinned, that familiar glint of mischief returning to his eyes. “Only when I’m with you.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was no real annoyance behind it. Instead, her fingers found their way to his cheek, her thumb brushing lightly over his stubble. “Lando…”

He leaned into her touch, closing his eyes for a moment before meeting her gaze again. “Yeah?”

“What even is this?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “Between us, I mean.”

His grin faded, replaced by a look of genuine consideration. “What do you want it to be?”

She hesitated, her mind racing. What did she want? She wanted to say everything, to demand he commit to her fully, but the words stuck in her throat. Instead, she settled for honesty. “I don’t know. But right now… it feels like something.”

Lando nodded slowly, his expression softening. “It does. And I think… I think maybe we should figure it out together.”

Her heart skipped a beat, and she swallowed hard. “Together?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice confident yet gentle. “I like being with you, Y/N. A lot. And I don’t want to stop. Not unless you tell me to.”

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, she wasn’t sure what to say. Part of her wanted to ask him what he meant, to press him for more details, but another part of her—the stronger part—just wanted to let it go. To live in this moment and trust that whatever came next would unfold naturally.

“Okay,” she whispered finally, her voice trembling with emotion.

Lando’s lips curved into a slow smile, and he brushed a strand of hair from her face. “Okay.”

They fell silent again, the tension between them shifting from sexual to something deeper, something almost sacred. Y/N felt his hand slide down her side, coming to rest on her thigh, and she shivered at the gentle touch.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” he murmured, his tone laced with awe.

She shook her head, feeling suddenly vulnerable. “No, I’m not. I’m just… me.”

“Exactly,” he said firmly. “And that’s all I need. Just you.”

Her chest tightened, and she looked away, afraid that if she met his gaze, she might burst into tears. Stop it, she scolded herself silently. Don’t ruin this.

“Hey,” Lando said gently, tipping her chin up until their eyes met. “Don’t hide from me, okay? Not now. Not ever.”

“I’m not hiding,” she lied, her voice cracking slightly.

He sighed, clearly unconvinced. “You are. And that’s okay. I get it. Trust me, I do. But I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. So you can take your time. Just… don’t push me away.”

Her heart swelled at his words, and she nodded slowly. “I won’t.”

“Good,” he said, his smile returning. He leaned in, capturing her lips in a kiss that was soft and lingering, a contrast to the intensity of their previous encounter. It was tender, affectionate, and it left her breathless in a completely different way.

When they finally pulled apart, Y/N felt lighter, as if a weight she hadn’t realized she was carrying had been lifted off her shoulders. She glanced around the kitchen, noting the dishes they had abandoned earlier and the flour dusting the counter where they had worked side by side.

“We never finished our dessert ,” she said, her voice tinged with amusement.

Lando chuckled, following her gaze. “I guess not. But honestly, I’m not sure I could eat anything after that.”

“Me neither,” she admitted, blushing slightly. “But we should probably clean up before someone walks in and thinks we’ve gone completely insane.”

He smirked, reaching for a towel. “Insane? Nah. We’re just having a good time.”

She shot him a playful glare. “Right. Because setting the kitchen on fire would be totally normal.”

“Hey, I didn’t set anything on fire,” he protested, draping the towel over his shoulder. “You’re the one who got distracted.”

“Distracted?!” she exclaimed, her voice rising an octave. “Lando, you literally pressed me against the counter and—”

He cut her off with a laugh, shaking his head. “Okay, fair point. My bad.”

As they cleaned up and loaded the dishes into the dishwasher, the banter continued, though now softer and less charged with the heightened energy that had fueled their earlier interactions. There was a new layer to their connection, one that made Y/N feel incredibly seen and understood in ways she hadn’t expected.

When the last dish was put away, Lando turned to her, his hands resting on her hips as he pulled her close. “So… what now?”

She tilted her head, considering his question. “Now… we see where this goes. Together.”

He smiled, his eyes twinkling with satisfaction. “Sounds perfect.”

As his lips descended to meet hers once more, Y/N felt her resolve strengthen. Whatever came next, she knew one thing for certain: she wasn’t ready to walk away from this. Not yet.

[lisasmuts]

Surprise, Surprise!

Lalisa Manoban ( Lisa )

7.1k words counting.

previous part here

( meaty thighs is what they ask for... )

Y/N tugged firmly on the leash, forcing Lisa to craw at a brisk pace to keep up with his stride. The tight collar around her neck made it difficult for her to breathe, but the discomfort only seemed to heighten her excitement.

Lisa’s heart raced as she followed Y/N, blind and helpless, her body trembling with anticipation. The prospect of whatever twisted surprise he had in store for her filled her with a delirious sense of dread and desire.

With each step, the collar dug into her skin, the pressure building until she thought she might pass out. Yet through the haze of her own need, Lisa reveled in the sensations, her pussy dripping with arousal at her complete and utter submission to Y/N’s will.

As Y/N opened the door, he announced in a booming voice,

“The highest breed of bitch, the one and only piece in the whole world – LALISA MANOBAN – is here for service!”

Lisa’ s heart raced, the words sending a shiver of excitement down her spine. Blind and helpless, she crawled into the room, the tight collar around her neck making each breath a struggle.

As she entered, Lisa could sense the presence of others in the room. The thought of being on display, of being used and shared, only heightened he arousal.

With trembling anticipation, Lisa waited to discover what delights Y/N and his guests had in store for her. She knew her role was to serve, to be their obedient pet, and she was more than ready to fulfill her purpose.

Y/N pulled Lisa into his lap, and she let out a noticeable moan as she felt his bulge through his shorts. He left tender kisses along her back as he whispered into her ear.

“Your colleagues who were in the meeting yesterday somehow managed to find out that I was the one behind your shameless act. They asked me to arrange a night with you and your body, as they were too captivated by your slut side.”

Lisa’s heart raced, a mix of fear and excitement coursing through her. The thought of being shared, of being used by multiple men, sent a thrill down her spine. She knew she should be appalled, but the ache between her thighs betrayed her true desires.

Trembling, she pressed herself back against Y/N, her voice dripping with wanton need.

“Then what are we waiting for, daddy? I’m ready to serve them all, to be their obedient little whore.”

She ground her hips against his lap, desperate for any friction to ease the throbbing of her needy pussy.

Y/N’s grip tightened, and Lisa knew there was no turning back. She was his to command, his to share with whomever he pleased. The prospect filled her with a twisted sense of anticipation, her body alive with the promise of depraved delights to come.

Lisa waited with bated breath for Y/N’s reply, but he remained silent, instead leaving a few more tender licks and kisses along her back. Growing more desperate, she spoke up louder, her voice dripping with lust so that everyone could hear.

“Please, daddy, don’t keep me waiting any longer. I need to serve your guests, to be their obedient little slut. Let me show them how much of a shameless whore I can be.”

Her hips ground against Y/N’s lap, the friction barely enough to satisfy the throbbing ache between her thighs. Lisa was consumed by her lust, her entire being focused on pleasing the men who awaited her.

“Use me, all of you. I’ll do anything you desire, no matter how depraved. Just me feel your cocks, stretching and filling up. I need to be debased and defiled until I’m nothing but a trembling, desperate mess.”

Lisa’s words dripped with desperation, her tone laced with a wicked excitement. She was ready to surrender herself completely, to become the plaything of Y/N and his guests, no matter the cost.

Lisa’s eyes went wide with a mix of fear and exhilaration as Y/N yanked her collar roughly, pulling her close.

“Oh daddy, I’ll handle it so well,”

She purred, her voice dripping with wanton need.

“Please, let me prove how much of a shameless slut I can be.”

Trembling with anticipation, she knew her role was to serve, to be their obedient plaything, and she was more than ready to fulfill her purpose.

As Y/N tightened his grip on her collar, Lisa felt a thrill of submission coursing through her. She was powerless to resist, her mind and body surrendered to his twisted desires. With a soft moan, she pressed herself against him, silently begging to be used and defiled.

As the blindfold was removed, Lisa’s eyes widened in surprise at the sight of the seven colleagues gathered before her. To her shock, even the director of her new song was among them. However, her initial surprise quickly morphed into a look of pure, unbridled lust.

Seizing the moment, Lisa began to shamelessly seduce the men with her sultry expression and dirty talk. She ground her hips against Y/N’s clothed cock, eliciting a groan of pleasure from him.

“Look at all of you, so captivated by my shameless side,”

She purred, her voice dripping with wanton need.

“Well, now you get to see just how much of a desperate slut I can be.”

Licking her lips, Lisa gazed hungrily at the men, her eyes filled with a wicked excitement.

“Who wants to be the first to use my needy little holes? I’ll make sure each and every one of you gets to have your fill.”

As she spoke, Lisa continued to bounce on Y/N’s lap, her movements becoming more frantic and desperate with each passing moment. The prospect of being shared and defiled by multiple men had her pussy throbbing with need, her juices soaking through the thin fabric of Y/N’s shorts.

Y/N’s voice boomed with authority as he addressed the gathered men.

“Gentlemen, feel free to use any of her holes. She’s been trained to take it all. But remember, no cumming inside her pussy or ass.”

He paused, a cruel smirk spreading across his face.\

“Now, who wants to see how deep this little whore’s throat goes? Place your bets, gentlemen.”

Lisa’s eyes gleamed with a wicked excitement as she gazed hungrily at the men. Without hesitation, she slid off Y/N’s lap and sank to her knees, her hands reaching out to undo the flies of the nearest man.

“Who’s first??”

She purred, her voice dripping with lust.

“I’m ready to service each and every one of you, however you desire.”

As the men surged forward, eager to claim their prize, Lisa steeled herself, prepared to demonstrate the full extent of her shameless depravity. This was her chance to prove her worth, to show that she was nothing more than a desperate, obedient slut, ready to be used and defiled to the fullest.

As the colleague spoke, that ‘he is so happy seeing Lisa all naked since he saw Lisa shamelessly cum in the meeting moaning Y/N’s name’ Lisa felt a thrill of excitement course through her. She remembered the shameless display in the meeting, how she had shamelessly moaned Y/N’s name as she came, unable to control her wanton desires.

Licking her lips, Lisa gazed up at the man, her eyes filled with a wicked gleam.

“Oh, you saw that, did you? I’m so glad my little display captivated you.’

She reached out, her fingers trailing teasingly along the outline of his straining erection.

Without further hesitation, Lisa tugged down the man’s zipper, freeing his throbbing cock. Leaning in, she flickered her tongue across the tip, savoring the salty pre-cum that beaded there.

“Mmmm, you taste delicious. Now let’s see how much of this I can fit down my throat.”

Gazing up at him with hooded eyes, Lisa parted her lips and slowly engulfed his length, her throat relaxing to accommodate him. She began to bob her head, her tongue swirling and caressing as she worked to please him.

Lisa paused her ministrations, removing the colleague’s cock from her mouth. With a desperate whine, she crawled back to Y/N, tugging on the leash that bound her collar.

“Daddy, please! I need to cum for him. I need to show him how much of a crazy, broken bitch in heat I can be.”

Gazing up at Y/N with pleading eyes.

“Please daddy, let me oblige his demand. I’ll cum so hard, I’ll be nothing but a trembling, wanton mess. Just let me prove how much of a shameless slut I am.”

The ache between her thighs was unbearable, and Lisa knew only Y/N’s touch could provide the relief she craved. She waited with bated breath, her body alive with anticipation, ready to shatter under the weight of her own desperate lust.

Y/N gently spoke to Lisa,

“You can cum, pet,”

However, despite her desperate attempts, Lisa found herself unable to climax. The colleagues looked on in confusion, wondering why the shameless slut before them couldn’t seem to find her release. Sensing their bewilderment, Lisa spoke up, her voice laced with need.

“It’s because daddy has so much control over me. Until he touches my pussy, I won’t be able to cum, no matter how much I try.”

She gazed up at Y/N, her eyes pleading.

“Please daddy, I need you. I need to feel your hand on me, to let me shatter under the weight of my own lust. Only then can I give these men the show they desire.”

Lisa’s body trembled with unfulfilled desire, her pussy throbbing with need. She waited with bated breath, ready to surrender herself, knowing that only then would she be able to provide the depraved display the colleagues craved.

Y/N laughed in cruel triumph as the colleagues questioned whether Lisa’s claim was true. Before he could reply, Lisa spoke up, a hint of frustration in her voice.

“Can’t you see I’m not able to cum, no matter how much I try? It’s the truth – I can’t orgasm without daddy touching my pussy.”

She gazed at the men, her eyes filled with a desperate need.

Shifting on her knees, Lisa pressed her thighs together, trying in vain to find some relief for the ache between them.

“Please, just let him touch me. I need to cum so badly, to shatter under the weight of my own lust. I’ll be such a good, shameless slut for all of you, I promise.”

Her words dripped with wanton need, and she could feel her juices soaking the insides of her thighs. Lisa was consumed by her desire, ready to do whatever it took to earn Y/N’s touch and provide the depraved display the colleagues craved.

Lisa’s eyes gleamed with wicked excitement at Y/N’s words. Without hesitation, she turned her attention to the gathered men, her tongue darting out to teasingly lick her lips.

“As you wish, daddy. I’ll lick every man in this room clean.”

Her voice dripped with sultry promise as she crawled towards the first man, gazing up at him hungrily.

“Who’s first? I’m going to make sure every single one of you is squeaky clean.”

Reaching up, Lisa grasped the man’s shaft, guiding it towards her waiting mouth. Flicking her tongue across the tip, she moaned softly, savoring his taste. Slowly, she began to lower her head, taking him deeper into her throat with each bob of her head.

The other men watched in rapt attention, their own arousals growing as they anticipated their turn. Lisa moved from one to the next, lavishing each cock with her talented mouth, her eyes shining with a depraved delight.

When she had attended to them all, Lisa crawled back to Y/N, her lips glistening with their combined fluids.

“There, daddy. They’re all nice and clean, just like you wanted.”

She gazed up at him, silently pleading for the touch she craved.

Suddenly the colleagues erupted in outrage, accusing Lisa of being a lying bitch who didn’t want to cum.

“Why don’t we test your claim gentlemen?”

Y/N stood up from the couch, his voice booming with authority.

“Gentlemen, get creative - see if you can make her cum without me.”

Lisa’s eyes widened in a mix of fear and excitement as the men surged forward, determined to prove her wrong. She knew she had no choice but to submit, to allow them to do as they pleased.

Trembling, she lowered herself to the floor, spreading her legs in wanton invitation.

“Pleases, do your worst.”

She purred, her voice dripping with sultry need.

“I’ll prove to you all how much of a shameless slut I am.”

As the men began to touch and caress her body, Lisa let out a series of desperate moans, her hips bucking in a futile attempt to find the release she craved. But no matter how they tried, she remained frustratingly unfulfilled, her body betraying her dependence on Y/N’s touch. Finally, exhausted and humiliated, Lisa turned to Y/N, her eyes pleading.

“Daddy, please… I need you. Only you can make me cum like the broken bitch I am.”

One of the men, yanked Lisa between them, yelling in her face.

“Y/N gave us the authority, so you better not go crawling back to him. As of now, we hold all the power over you.”

Lisa’s eyes went wide with a mix of fear and excitement. She knew she had no choice but to submit to their demands. Trembling, she nodded meekly.

“Y-yes, sirs. I’m yours to use as you please.”

The men erupted in triumphant cheers, already reaching out to touch and grope her body. Lisa steeled herself, determined to prove her worth as a shameless, obedient slut. No matter what they had in store for her, she would endure it, desperate to earn the release she craved.

As their hands roamed her curves, Lisa let out a series of wanton moans, her hips bucking in a futile attempt to find friction. She was at their mercy now, ready to be debased and defiled in whatever way they saw fit.

As the two men began to finger Lisa together, she let out an amazed moan, her back arching in pleasure. The sensation of their four fingers stretching and filling her tight pussy was almost too much to bear.

“Oh, fuck!”

She cried out, her voice dripping with wanton need.

“You feel so good inside me. Don’t stop, please!”

Lisa ground her hips against their hands, desperate for more. The men watched in awe as her pussy clenched and fluttered around their probing digits, her juices coating their fingers.

“Damn, she’s so tight!”

One of them exclaimed, his eyes gleaming with lust.

“I can’t wait to see what else this little slut can take.”

Encouraged by their reactions. Lisa continued to moan and whimper, putting on a shameless display of her depraved need. She was determined to prove her worth, to show them just how much of a desperate, obedient whore she could be.

As the other men began groping Lisa’s breasts and torturing her sensitive nipples, she let out a series of agonized yet pleasurable cries. The pain-pleasure sensations were almost too much for her to bear, but she reveled in the depraved attention.

“Yes, yes! Hurt me more!”

She begged, her voice hoarse with desperation

“I can take it, I promise. I’m your shameless little slut!”

Lisa’s body trembled with a mix of fear and ecstasy as the men continued their merciless assault on her most sensitive areas. She arched her back, pressing her chest further into their grasping hands, silently pleading for more.

The men seemed to take great delight in her reactions, pinching and twisting her nipples until she was reduced to a whimpering, quivering mess. Yet through it all, Lisa’s eyes shone with a wicked excitement, her mind consumed by the prospect of being used and debased.

Lisa’s eyes widened in a mix of fear and anticipation as the men began discussing the use of a TENS unit. She knew she was in for an intense experience, but the prospect of being electrified only fueled her growing arousal.

“Yes, please!”

She cried out, her voice dripping with wanton need.

“I can take it, I promise. Shock me, hurt me, do whatever you want.”

As the tens unit was brought forth, Lisa braced herself, her body trembling with a mix of trepidation and excitement. She knew the sensations would be overwhelming, but she was determined to prove her worth, to show them just how much she could endure.

The first jolt of electricity sent a searing wave of pleasure-pain through her body, and Lisa let out a guttural moan, her back arching in response. She craved more, her mind consumed by the prospects of being completely at their mercy.

“Yes, yes, moreee!”

She begged, her eyes wild with lust.

“Make me scream, make me beg.”

The colleagues took turns assaulting Lisa with the tens unit, delivering jolt after jolt of searing electricity. Despite their efforts, Lisa’s moans were not for them, but for Y/N. She writhed and whimpered, her body alive with sensation, but her mind was consumed by thoughts of her true master.

“Daddy!”

She cried out, her voice hoarse from screaming.

“Please, I need you! Only you can make me feel this way.”

The men continued their relentless assault, but Lisa refused to give them the satisfaction. Her orgasm remained stubbornly out of reach without Y/N’s touch, her dependence on Y/N’s touch absolute. She was his, and his alone, no matter how hard they tried to break her.

The colleagues, growing increasingly frustrated by Lisa’s refusal to moan their names, unleashed a relentless barrage of electric shocks across her entire body. The jolts of electricity assaulted every inch of her, causing her to convulse and writhe in agony.

Yet even as she screamed in pain, Lisa’s mind remained steadfast. Through the haze of torment, she defiantly moaned out Y/N’s name, her loyalty to her true master unwavering.

The colleagues, enraged by Lisa’s continued defiance, began targeting her most sensitive areas with the relentless electric shocks. The jolts of electricity assaulted her tender flesh, causing her to erupt in agonized screams.

“Stop, please!”

Lisa begged, her voice hoarse and ragged from her cries.

“I can’t take it anymore! Please, make it stop!”

But the men refused to listen, jeering at her pleas.

“What’s that? We can’t hear you over the sound of you being a filthy slut!”

Lisa’s body convulsed and trembled, the shocks overwhelming her senses. Tears streamed down her face as she continued to beg for mercy.

Trapped in a haze of pain and pleasure, she had to hold out, to prove her worth to Y/N’s shameless, obedient whore.

The men continued to mercilessly shock Lisa, yelling at her to scream louder if she wanted them to stop. Summoning every ounce of her strength, Lisa let out a desperate, agonized scream.

“Please, stop! I can’t take it anymore! I’ll do anything, just make it stop!”

Her voice was raw and ragged, laced with pure terror.

The colleagues paused, realizing they had pushed the sweet, innocent Lisa too far. They didn’t want to truly hurt their precious baby girl. Reluctantly, they relented, the shocks finally ceasing.

Lisa collapsed, her body trembling as she gasped for breath. Tears streamed down her face.

Y/N approached Lisa, gently placing his hand on her face.

“You’re still not allowed to cum, pet. But the gentlemen have paid me a lot of money, so they get to have their fun with you for now.”

He stepped back, settling onto the couch to watch.

Lisa’s eyes lit up with excitement at Y/N’s words.

“Oh, daddy, thank you! I’m so grateful you’re letting them play with me.”

She turned to the colleagues, her voice dripping with wanton need.

“Please, use me however you want. I’m your shameless little slut, ready to serve you all.”

Eagerly, Lisa presented herself to the men, her body trembling with anticipation. She knew her release would have to wait, but the prospect of being their plaything only fueled her growing arousal. With Y/N’s approval, she was free to indulge her deepest, most depraved desires.

The men began touching and feeling Lisa’s curves once more, their hands roaming her body with a newfound gentleness. They murmured apologies for their previous merciless actions, admitting that hearing her desperate screams and pleas had only fueled their lust further.

“We couldn’t help ourselves, darling,”

One of them purred, his fingers tracing the lines of her figure.

“Your cries were just so delicious. But we promise to be more… considerate this time.”

Lisa shivered at their words, her body alive with anticipation. She knew she was at their mercy. Gazing up at the men through hooded eyes, Lisa let out a soft, sultry moan.

“Then please, don’t hold back. Use me however you want. I’m your shameless little slut, ready to serve you all.”

A few of the men continued playing with Lisa’s body, teasing her nipples and pussy, while others turned to Y/N, curious about his methods.

“What did you do to make Lisa like this?”

One of them asked.

“She was such a strong girl, how come she’s reduced to this level where she can’t even cum independently?”

Y/N smirked, basking in the attention.

“Oh, I have my ways of breaking even the strongest women. Lisa is my shameless, obedient slut now – she craves my touch, my control. Without me, she’s just a needy little thing.”

Lisa preened under Y/N’s words, her body trembling with wanton need.

“It’s true, sirs. I’m nothing without daddy.”

Y/N beamed with pride as he praised Lisa, his words filling her with a sense of accomplishment.

“That’s right, pet. Everything that’s happened to you, you deserve it. You’re worth every bit of it.”

Lisa’s face lit up with a bright, triumphant smile. She bounced excitedly, overjoyed at Y/N’s praising.

“Oh, daddy, thank you! I’m so happy.”

Filled with a renewed sense of purpose, Lisa turned to the men, her eyes shining with adoration.

She presented herself to them, her body trembling with anticipation. Lisa knew her release would have to wait, but the prospect of being their plaything only fueled her growing arousal.

Y/N pulled Lisa in for a passionate kiss, his lips claiming hers with fervent need. As they parted, he pushed her forward into the group of seven men who were waiting.

“She’s your now, gentlemen. Do whatever you please, but no fucking in the ass or pussy. Understood?”

Y/N’s gaze then settled on Lisa, his voice low and commanding.

“And you, my pet – seduce these men with your body, your looks, your dirty talk. Show them what a shameless whore you can be.”

In an instant, Lisa’s demeanor shifted. Gone was the meek, obedient girl, replaced by a confident, alluring siren. She sauntered up to the men, her hips swaying with practice grace. Licking her lips, she eyed them hungrily.

“Well, hello there, boys.”

She purred, her voice dripping with sultry promise.

“I’m Lisa, your new favorite slut. Why don’t you come and play with me??”

She reached out, her fingers trailing along one man’s chest as she batted her lashes coyly. Lisa was a proud, shameless whore, and she was ready to put on a show.

The men hungrily descended upon Lisa, their hands and mouths devouring her body. They groped and caresses her curves, their eyes alight with lust as they took in her shameless display.

Lisa reveled in their attention, arching and writhing under their touch. She ran her hands over their chests, her hips grinding against them as she let out sultry moans.

“That’s it, boys,”

She purred, her voice dripping with wanton need.

“Don’t hold back. Use me however you want. I’m your shameless little slut.”

The men not directly engaged with Lisa watches in awe, their minds racing to comprehend how Y/N had managed to transform her into such a wanton, obedient plaything. They could scarcely believe the confident, seductive woman before them was the same girl they had tortured earlier.

Lisa continued to put on a shameless display, reveling in the attention and affection of her new lovers.

The men quickly maneuvered Lisa, making her stand on her legs. In a swift move, one of the men got behind her and smoothly glided his cock between her thighs, starting to dry hump her. As Lisa realized what was happening, she turned her head back and kissed the man passionately. Breaking the kiss, Lisa looked at the man with a coy smile.

“Someone’s really eager, I see,”

She purred, tightening her thighs around his cock.

In front of her, another man yanked her head forward, kissing her roughly. Lisa moaned into the kiss, her body alive with sensations as the men used her.

The men dry humping Lisa from behind continued to lick and nuzzle her neck and backside, feeding her a constant stream of filthy compliments.

“You’re such a good little slut, taking us all like this,”

One man growled against her skin.

“Look at you, so eager for our attention.”

Lisa moaned softly, her focus divided between the man behind her and the ones in front, each vying for her affections. She turned her head, capturing the one man’s lips in a deep, passionate kiss, her tongue tangling with his.

“Mmm, you boys know just how to make a girl feel special.”

She purred, breaking the briefly before diving back in, her hips rolling to match the rhythm of the man grinding against her from behind.

The men dry humping Lisa from behind leaned in close, whispering filthy, degrading praises in her ear.

“That’s right, you dirty little slut. You’re not just any girl – you’re Lisa manoban, the famous BLACKPINK idol. And look at you now, getting used like the shameless whore you are.”

Lisa shuddered at their words, a thrill of humiliation and arousal coursing through her. To be so brazenly degraded, yet treated as something special, only fueled her wanton need.

“Yes, I’m your dirty little idol slut,”

She moaned, grinding her hips back against the man behind her.

“Use me however you want, I deserve it all.”

Lisa’s eyes gleamed with a mixture of pride and debasement. She was living out her most depraved fantasies, and the thought of being so thoroughly debased only made her crave their attention more.

One of the men kissing Lisa in the front suddenly slapped her, then immediately apologized.

“Hey, you should be giving your attention to us up here, not just the ones in the back,”

He said, his voice laced with a hint of possessiveness.

Y/N, seated on the couch, let out a small giggle, amused by the colleagues’ desperate craving for Lisa’s affection.

Lisa’s eyes widened slightly at the unexpected slap, but she quickly recovered, her expression shifting to one of coy submission.

“Of course, sir. Forgive me, I got a little distracted.”

She turned her focus back to the men in front of her, lavishing them with her undivided attention.

Leaning in, Lisa captured one man’s lips in a deep, passionate kiss, her tongue dancing with his. As she pulled away, she gazed up at him through hooded eyes.

“There, is that better? I’m all yours now.”

Lisa knew exactly how to keep all her admirers satisfied, seamlessly shifting her focus to ensure no one felt neglected. Y/N watched the scene unfold, a satisfied smirk on his face as his prized possession put on a captivating display.

Lisa turned her head back again and kissed the man using her thighs, pouring all her passion and love into the embrace. As they parted lips, she gazed up at him with innocent, pleading eyes.

“Please, sir, won’t you let one of the others have a turn?”

She asked softly

“I want to make you all feel so good.”

The man hesitated, clearly reluctant to relinquish his position. He gripped Lisa’s hips tighter, a possessive growl rumbling in his chest.

“No way, sweetheart. You’re mine for now.”

He resumed his relentless grinding, eliciting a shudder of pleasure from Lisa.

Undeterred, Lisa continued to lavish attention on the others, her skilled lips and nimble tongue ensuring no one felt neglected.

Lisa gazed up at the man using her thighs, her eyes shining with need.

“Please, sir, let the others have a turn too,”

She pleaded, her voice soft and imploring.

“I want to make you all feel so good. As many times as you want, I’ll be here for you.”

Placing her free hand on his cheek, Lisa offered him a reassuring smile.

“You don’t have to worry, I’m not going anywhere. Use my thighs as many times as you’d like – twice, thrice, unlimited. I’m yours to command.”

The man’s grip on her hips loosened slightly, his expression softening at Lisa’s words. Sensing an opportunity, Lisa turned her attention to the others, her lips curving into a coy smile.

“There, now everyone can have a turn. Isn’t that better?”

The men switched places, and the one who had been using Lisa’s thighs came forward, pulling her into a deep, searing kiss. Lisa responded with equal passion, pouring all of her love into the embrace as she placed her hands on the sides of his head. Behind her, a new man began dry humping her, using her thighs to pleasure himself.

Lisa moaned into the kiss, her body alive with sensations as the men took their turns using her. She was completely immersed in serving her admirers, determined to prove her worth as their shameless, obedient slut. Lisa knew no bounds when it came to satisfying their every desire.

The new man using Lisa’s thighs leaned in, whispering filthy comments in her ear.

“Look at that, you little slut. Your pussy’s just dripping, making it so easy for me to grind against you.”

He let out a low, guttural moan as he felt the slick warmth of her thighs. Lisa shuddered at his words, a thrill of humiliation and arousal coursing through her.

As the men continued their relentless grinding against Lisa’s thighs, one of them seized the opportunity, seeing her mouth was free from the kiss.

“Hey there, you dirty little slut,”

He growled, leaning in close.

“Tell me, how many cocks do you think you can take at once, huh? Bet you’d love to find out.”

Lisa’s eyes gleamed with wanton delight at the man’s vulgar question. She licked her lips, slowly. She arched her back, pressing her body flush against the man behind her, silently begging for more of their attention and degradation.

The men in the front started to drool and spit onto Lisa’s face, coating her features in a glistening sheen. Lisa giggled delightedly at their handiwork, clearly reveling in their degrading attention.

She reached up, tenderly caressing one of the men’s face.

“Oh, you boys are making me look so pretty.”

She purred, her voice dripping with adoration.

“I love how you’re making me as your own.”

Lisa’s eyes sparkled with genuine joy and contentment. She was in her element, serving as the shameless plaything of these men who craved her body and attention. Every drop of saliva, every debasing act, only fueled her growing arousal and sense of purpose.

Turning her head slightly, Lisa gazed up at the man behind her, grinding against his thick cock.

“Don’t worry, darling, there’s plenty of me to go around. I’m your obedient little slut, after all.”

Lisa was determined to prove her worth, to show these men that she was deserving of their every twisted desire. In her mind, there was no act too depraved, no humiliation too great. She was theirs to command, body and soul.

As a new man slid his cock between Lisa’s thighs, roughly grinding against her, Lisa was momentarily caught off guard. However, her expression quickly shifted to one of wanton lust.

“You boys aren’t really gentlemen at all, are you?”

She purred, her voice teasing and dripping with seduction.

Before she could finish her sentence, Lisa smashed her lips the new men’s, kissing him with unbridled passion. Her body arched back, pressing against his as she lost herself in the sensation of being used.

Lisa was a shameless, obedient slut, and she reveled in the attention and degradation of these men. She craved their twisted affections, determined to prove her worth as their plaything.

One of the men chuckled darkly, eyeing Lisa with predatory hunger.

“Hey boys, who wants to see how many fingers this slut can take?”

Without warning for a response, he pushed his first finger into Lisa’s waiting mouth. She hungrily sucked on it, her tongue swirling around the digit. The other men cheered, encouraging him to add more. Slowly, he pushed in second finger, then a third, until finally his entire hand was buried in Lisa’s mouth. She moaned around the intrusion, her eyes gleaming with wanton delight as tightened her thighs, providing delicious friction for the men ramming against her.

Lisa eagerly sucked on the man’s fingers, her tongue swirling around the digits as if they were a cock. The other men cheered in appreciation, applauding her shameless display.

“That’s it, you dirty slut! You’ve finally proven your worth to us,”

One of them growled, his eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction.

“We’re so fucking happy to have you as our obedient little plaything.”

Lisa moaned around the fingers in her mouth, her body thrumming with a mixture of humiliation and arousal. The men continued to shower her with praise and vulgar compliments.

As the men continued their relentless grinding against Lisa’s thighs, suddenly they felt a warm, gushing flow of liquid. Realizing that Lisa was squirting, one of the men let out a dark chuckle.

“Well, well, look at that, you dirty little slut. Can’t even control your own body, can you?”

He growled, his grip on her hips tightening.

“Squirting all over us like the shameless whore you are.”

Lisa’s face flushed with a mixture of humiliation and arousal at his words. She knew she should be ashamed, but the degradation only fueled her wanton need.

“I-I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it,”

She whimpered, her voice laced with a hint of pride.

“You all just feel so good, I just can’t hold back.”

The men jeered and taunted her, reveling in her debasement. But Lisa welcomed their cruelty, her body alive with sensation as she surrendered completely to their twisted desires.

Lisa ground her hips against the man behind her, his cock sliding between her slick thighs. Turning her head, she captured his lips in a passionate kiss, her tongue tangling with his.

The men surged forward, pushing Lisa down onto her knees as they formed a tight circle around her. She found herself surrounded by their throbbing cocks, her eyes widening with a mixture of trepidation and wanton desire.

One of them purred, caressing her cheek.

“We’re your bestfriends, not just your colleagues. And now you’re going to service all of us, like the good little slut you are.”

Lisa’s tongue darted out, wetting her lips as she gazed up at the men hungrily. Without hesitation, Lisa began lavishing attention on the cocks before her, her skilled mouth and nimble tongue working in tandem to pleasure each of them.

The men pulled out their phones, eagerly recording the debasing scene as they began speaking aloud cuckhold captions for Lisa’s boyfriend.

“Look at this slut, getting passed around by all of us,”

One man sneered.

“Her poor boyfriend has no idea what a whore she is.”

Lisa felt a twinge of guilt at the mention of Eli, but the overwhelming desire to pleases these men quickly drowned it out. She gazed up at them with wide, submissive eyes, her tongue darting out to tease the nearest cock.

The men hovered their throbbing cocks over Lisa’s waiting mouth, speaking in unison.

“Her boyfriend is going to be so ashamed when he sees this, he’s so unlucky to have her as girlfriend.”

A few of the men yanked Lisa up and positioned her into a doggy-style pose on the bed. They exchanged a quick hand gesture, silently announcing that they would now take turns fucking her thighs in this new position.

One of the men, a sweet-faced colleague, stepped forward and slid his cock between Lisa’s slick thighs. He looked down at her, his voice soft and almost pleading.

“Lisa, may I please fuck your thighs?”

He asked tenderly.

Lisa gazed back at him, her eyes shining with wanton need.

“Of course, darling,”

She purred, arching her back to press her thighs against his shaft.

“Use me however you want, I’m yours to command.”

With that, the man began thrusting, his hips rolling in a steady rhythm as he savored the sensation of Lisa’s warm, yielding flesh. The other men watched hungrily, already eagerly anticipating their own turns to claim her.

The men took Lisa’s earlier claim to heart, and one by one, they approached her bent-over form. The first in line stood before her, rubbing his throbbing cock all over her face – across her eyelids, nose, forehead, cheeks, and chin, but deliberately avoiding her lips.

Lisa’s breath caught in her throat as she felt the hot, rigid flesh gliding over her skin. A shiver of anticipation ran through her, and she fought the urge to part her lips, desperate to taste him. But she remained obedient, allowing the man to use her face as he pleased.

“That’s it, you dirty slut,”

He growled, his voice dripping with cruel satisfaction.

“Take it all in. Let us mark you as our own.”

Lisa whimpered softly, her body trembling with arousal.

As the first men stepped aside, a new eager admirer approached Lisa. One by one, they stepped forward, rubbing their throbbing cocks across her face, marking her as their own. Through the haze of her arousal, Lisa gazed up at them, her expression open and vulnerable.

“It feels soo good,”

She murmured, her voice soft and sincere.

“I love being used by all of you.”

Despite the degradation, Lisa felt a genuine sense of contentment. Every touch, every act of defilement, only fueled her growing arousal and sense of purpose.

As the other men came forward gropping and fondling Lisa’s breasts, she kept her attention focused solely on the sweet-faced colleague behind her. With a coy smile, she gazed up at him, her voice dripping with seduction.

“Darling, are you having fun?”

She purred, her eyes sparkling with wanton desire.

“I want to make sure you’re enjoying yourself just as much as I am.”

Lisa arched her back. Despite the other men’s attentions, her sole focus was on pleasing the one who was fucking her thighs.

The sweet-faced colleague hesitated for a moment, his hands roaming gently over Lisa’s hips. A hint of shY/Ness crept into his voice as he spoke.

“Lisa, if it were possible, I would make you my girlfriend and have you all to myself – body, mind, and soul.”

He admitted softly.

“But for now, I’m just enjoying the chance to be with you like this. Would you let me have your thighs a little longer??”

Lisa’s eyes widened slightly at his confession, a flicker of genuine emotion passing through her. She gazed up at him, a coy smile playing on her lips.

“Oh darling, I would be honored to be yours.”

She purred, arching her back to press her thighs against his cock.

“Take me however you want – my body is yours to use as you please.”

Subtly shifting her position a little, she silently invited him to continue his ministrations, eager to please him in whatever way he desired.

Before the sweet-faced colleague could respond, Lisa turned her head and addressed the other men in the room.

“Gentlemen, for the next one and a half hours, this darling man here will have exclusive rights to my thighs,”

She announced, her voice firm yet dripping with seduction.

“The rest of you will have to wait your turn.”

The sweet man’s face lit up with joy at Lisa’s words. He immediately began showering her body with tender kisses – trialing along her back, her spine, the nape of her neck. His touch was reverent, almost worshipful, as he silently thanked for her tis precious gift of time alone.

Lisa basked in the attention, her eyes fluttering closed as she savored the man’s affections. Though the other men grumbled in disappointment, she paid them no mind. In this moment, she belonged to the sweet-faced colleague, and she would do everything in her power to please him.

Leaning back against his chest Lisa let out a soft, contented sigh. She was determined to make this time together truly special, to show him the depths of her devotion. For the next one and a half hours, she would be his and his alone.

As the remaining colleagues bid farewell, Lisa giggled softly, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Well, my darling, it seems the others have had their fill for now,”

She purred, her voice dripping with seduction.

“Which means, for the next one and a half hours, I belong to you and you alone.”

Turning fully to face the sweet-faced man, Lisa reached out to caress his cheek, her touch feather-light.

“I’m all yours, my love.”

She whispered her lips mere inches from his.

“Use me however you desire. My body, my mind, my very soul – they’re yours to command for the next 90 minutes.”

With that, Lisa closed the distance between them, capturing his lips in a searing kiss. Her hands roamed his body, eager to explore every inch of him as she pressed her curves against his firm. In this moment, nothing else mattered but the two of them, lost in a haze of passion and desire.

As Lisa turned around, the sweet guy’s cock slipped out of her thighs. She giggled playfully, gazing up at him with a coy smile.

“Oh, my darling, I think you’ve lost your place,”

She purred, her voice dripping with feigned innocence.

“Don’t you want to put it back where it belongs?”

Slowly, Lisa arched her back, pressing her thighs together to create a warm, inviting space for the man’s shaft. Her eyes sparkled with wanton need as she silently beckoned him to take his rightful place.

“I’m all yours, my love,”

She whispered her tongue darting out to wet her lips.

As the time passed, the sweet-faced colleague tenderly and passionately fucked Lisa's thighs in a variety of positions. Lisa offered herself to him completely, reveling in his affections. She arched her back, pressed her curves against him, and whispered words of encouragement, determined to please him in every way.

When the one and a half hour duration came to an end, Lisa gently pulled away, a coy smile playing on her lips.

“My darling, our time together is almost up,”

She purred, her voice laced with regret.

“But I've cherished every moment with you.”

Leaning in, Lisa placed a soft, lingering kiss on his lips, silently conveying her gratitude and adoration…….

A/N - merry christmas everyone, i hope you guys are loving this seriers. Well I'll be taking a 2 or 3 weeks break so the next chapters will be releasing after 2/3 weeks.

[ddarker-dreams]

Cherubim.

Gojo Satoru x F Reader x Geto Suguru.

Warnings: Implied trauma, Gojo and Geto are both weird + manipulative. Word count: 6k.

-Index-

March 18th, 2006. 

2:26 p.m.

-

Gojo Satoru has found himself embroiled in his greatest turmoil yet. 

Assassination attempts? That’s nothing, he’s waved those off since he was a kid. Jujutsu politics? The higher-ups can yap until they’re blue in the face; they’re all bark, no bite. Curses? Similarly inconsequential. No matter how much power they hold, they're reduced to speckled splatters the instant they cross his path. 

For most, experiencing one of these dilemmas would prove too overwhelming, much less all three. He isn’t like most, though. He’s strong. Incomprehensibly strong. He can weather any storm, shift the tides of any battle in his favor. Has this gone to his head? Absolutely. He can handle ‘too much.’ It’s ‘not enough’ that’s proving to be an issue. 

This is why he’s detailing his recent woes to an uninterested Ieri Shoko, who made the mistake of reading in the dormitory’s common area. 

The scene is as follows:

Satoru’s along the length of the couch, his long, lanky limbs dangling wherever they can. He lays his head against the armrest, snowy hair succumbing to gravity in an avalanche that frames his face. He uses his ability to keep his sunglasses from meeting the same fate. Behind the dark frames, his eyes narrow into a piercing stare. If the ceiling were sentient, it would’ve fled by now. Such is the potency of his miserable mood. 

Parallel to him sits Shoko, the fat of her cheek squished upward from resting on her fist for so long. Books, candy wrappers, and notes from last year’s curriculum yet to be thrown away litter the table’s surface. Suguru’s could put a calligraphist to shame, even if they were written in a Badtz-Maru pencil you won from a gachapon. Your notes stand out as well. They’re bright shades of your favorite colors, organized according to a system of your own devising. Occasionally, the handwriting shifts, taking on Suguru or Shoko’s likeness for trickier kanji. You doodle hearts of gratitude around the yomigana they include for good measure. 

(You complained that his handwriting was ‘indecipherable’ when he tried doing the same. Out of spite, he gave you the cold shoulder… for three minutes. He withers and wilts without your attention). 

He sighs and concludes his monologue. 

“So, that just about sums everything up. Well? What’s the prognosis, Doc?” 

“You’re in desperate need of more friends,” Shoko replies. Satoru lets out an unsatisfied grunt. “And you miss [First].” 

Satoru perks up at your mention, finally giving that poor ceiling a much-needed reprieve. He shuffles around until he’s facing Shoko. 

“But she just headed out yesterday.” 

“I know.” 

“That’d make me really weird and clingy, right?” 

“Glad you’re catching on.” 

While Satoru contemplates the previously unconsidered possibility of him being ‘really weird and clingy,’ Shoko reopens her manga. She’s of the mistaken belief that the issue has resolved itself. Unfortunately for her, the problem extends beyond Satoru’s insatiable hunger for you. The problem is Satoru himself. Until he’s running amuck elsewhere, there’ll be no solace. 

She commends herself for her patience. 

In typical Satoru fashion, he continues testing it. 

“When was the last time you updated your passport?” 

“I’m not flying to her home country with you,” Shoko shuts down what he thought was a brilliant plan. “It’s just two weeks. Wait it out.” 

“What if we fly first class?” 

“Gojo.” 

“Yeah, yeah, it’s still too soon to meet her parents. It’s gotta happen eventually though, right?” 

Shoko doesn’t dignify this with a response. 

Satoru sinks into the cushions. Could there be anything worse than boredom? He has no missions lined up, you and Suguru are visiting family, and the first-years haven’t arrived yet. Pestering Utahime has lost its charm too. He could return home before the school year starts, but he’d rather have his fingers chopped off one by one than suffer that torture. 

“Hey, Shoko.” 

“Mm.” 

“Why aren’t you back home? I thought you got along with your parents.” 

“They’re both busy. I wouldn’t see them much.” 

Satoru doesn’t press the matter. 

It does intrigue him though — the relationship sorcerers have with their non-sorcerer families. Or, to be more specific, yours and Suguru’s familial dynamics intrigue him. Satoru can’t (and doesn’t bother trying) to care for the going-ons of anyone outside his small circle. This is more the hubris of a teenager who has been told he’s special his entire life than anything malicious. To Satoru, the world’s population might as well be stuck at three. 

Regardless, it’s an improvement.

Before meeting Suguru, those in his life consisted almost exclusively of suckups or stuckups. If he was unlucky, it’d be both, rolled into one terrible package. This was his reality. Jujutsu was his reality. He was the first to possess the Limitless and the Six Eyes in generations. The Gojo clan wouldn’t waste such an extraordinary opportunity. He was their pride and joy, personality aside. 

He was born to be the strongest. 

He can’t imagine any other life for himself. 

Then there’s you. 

He could see you leading a normal life. You wouldn’t be top of the class or a varsity athlete, but you’d be well-liked. Boys would nervously ask you out on dates and buy you roses with money they got from mowing lawns. You’d be the first one your friends would call when they experienced heartache. Maybe you’d go to college or land an entry-level job. Some co-worker with a decent sense of humor would win you over. Then you’d get married, rent a property, have a few kids… 

Satoru’s stomach twists. He grimaces, shifting his thoughts elsewhere. Namely, the question that’s bothered him for a while. 

Why did you become a jujutsu sorcerer? 

It was intentional. You chose to leave behind your home, your family. You knew the risks. How the body can break and ache in ways previously unrecorded. And what do you get in return for this thankless crusade? Sleepless nights where you tremble like a leaf beside Shoko? A nimbleness at dressing wounds that could only have come from years of practice? 

You’re open about everything until you aren’t. Fear, mortality, loss — when confronted by these unsightly truths, you retreat to someplace he can’t follow. 

Satoru can’t make sense of it. Neither can Suguru. Shoko says they shouldn’t press the matter. He wants to, though. He needs to know how you break. How else can he ensure that you never will? 

He thinks back to that humid August day. The binding vow eviscerated your insides, shards from fractured bones dug into your organs. Until that point in his life, Satoru prided himself on his immunity to fear. The pathogen never lasted long in his system. After all, fear is born from a lack of control. From having something to lose. If he couldn’t lose, what was there to be afraid of? 

It’s a question he’s been avoiding. 

(“If she dies,” he told Suguru, in a voice he barely recognized as his own, “They die too.”)

His mouth feels dry, his tongue heavy. He’ll drink that tea you’re fond of later to satiate his thirst. He wonders if you share its taste.

“What’re you reading, anyway?” he asks, hoping to take his mind elsewhere.

“Fruits Basket.” 

He laughs, incredulous. 

“Seriously? Didn’t take you for a shoujo type.” 

“I borrowed it from [First]. We’re doing a book exchange over break.” 

A book exchange… three words Satoru never thought would pique his curiosity. However, anything about you demands his undying attention. Even if it’s shoujo manga. Girls who read that genre do it to project onto the heroine, right? So the love interest must have appealed to you. What tropes do you like? Do you want a shy, sensitive soul who blushes and stutters in your presence? A misunderstood bad boy who’s only soft around you? The responsible student council president? 

Oh, he’ll have so much material to tease you with when you return. He can’t wait. 

“How do I enter this exclusive book club?” Satoru demands. 

“You don’t. I don’t trust your taste,” Shoko replies, much to his chagrin. “You can still read it, though. She has all of the volumes in her room.” 

… Your room? 

He grins from ear to ear.

Should he respect your privacy? Probably. Is he going to? Of course not. He never has, there’s no point in starting now. 

This trip of yours might yet redeem itself. 

-

Along the outskirts of Jujutsu High, Geto Suguru spots an odd woman. 

She’s wearing a baggy graphic tee, low-rise jeans, and gaudy bracelets on both arms. Her black hair is tossed up, thick strands sticking in every direction. Even from this distance, he can discern the silver glint of piercings that dot her ear like constellations. The stranger stands slouched, both her hands shoved into her pockets. For her to have gotten this far, she can’t be a civilian. Those unfamiliar with jujutsu can’t find this place. 

He stays still for a spell — watching and waiting. From this distance, she shouldn’t be able to sense his presence. It’s one of the few areas he excels at over Satoru. Satoru’s cursed energy is bright, blindingly so, a thunderous clap that can be heard for miles. Suguru prefers to keep his muted. It coils around his limbs like a serpent, never straying far. This is why you had no difficulty picking out Satoru’s stupefying presence on your first day, whereas he had to make himself known to you. 

Suguru’s lips quirk up. 

He was fated to meet you. 

“Hey! Kiddo!” A deep, somewhat raspy voice exclaims. He blinks rapidly, temporarily thrown off. “This ain’t an art gallery. What’s with the staring?” 

She noticed him? How? 

When the stranger starts slinking his way, he regains his composure. 

“I apologize. It wasn’t my intention to make you uncomfortable,” Suguru’s cadence flows smoother than a river. 

“Hah! ‘Uncomfortable?’ That’s a way of putting it,” she pokes the space beneath her emerald eyes twice. “Even now, I can feel ya picking me apart. Shit’s creepy.” 

His smile tightens. “I’ll be more mindful of my conduct in the future, then.” 

She waves him off. Her golden bracelets clink together as she does so, the sound grating his ears. 

“That’s a lie if I ever heard one. And I should know. Schemers excel at picking out their brothers in arms,” she juts her head up, giving the impression that she’s the one looking down on him, despite the slight height difference. 

“Anyhow, by the looks of it, you must be Sugu-kun.” 

… Did she just call him Sugu-kun? 

“What? Too soon* to be calling you that? Heh, heh…” 

Suguru’s smile tightens. “You can refer to me however you like, so long as I can return the favor.” 

She guffaws.

“Maaan, Goldie sure was gracious in her description of you,” the woman gives him a lopsided grin. “Name’s Akane. There — is the playing field leveled now?” 

“Ishimoto Akane?”

He doesn’t miss the way she winces as her surname is spoken aloud, rather pointedly at that. 

“Ah. S’pose I had that coming.” 

Suguru decides against prolonging her torment. He’s in a generous mood, it isn’t every day he has a chance to learn more about you. This is an opportunity he’ll take full advantage of. 

“And I presume 'Goldie' is [First]?” 

He makes a mental note to figure out the wordplay for your nickname later. 

“Full marks.”

Suguru hums, a sound indicating that he’s drifting deep into thought. 

You don’t mention your mentor often. When you do, it’s normally in the form of endearing (if not mildly concerning) anecdotes.

“She told me that natto is bits of caramel held together by melted marshmallows, like a Rice Krispy Treat. It… it was not like a Rice Krispy Treat…” 

“... For my twelfth birthday, she got me Pokemon Ruby. I remember crying because Roxeanne’s Nosepass took out my Torchic. My cursed energy spiked and the party had to end early…” 

“... Out of curiosity, I drank her stash of Georgia canned coffee. My heart rate was almost high enough to warrant a trip to the ER…” 

Getting anything else relating to her out of you was like trying to wring water from a rock. Suguru didn’t miss the wistful melancholy underpinning your stories. You recalled them with a far-off expression as if mourning that those days of whimsy were over. Initially, he considered it a consequence of growing up. Childhood idols rarely remain highly esteemed as the years pass and maturity accrues. 

His intuition argued that he should examine the issue closer.

(“I met her, y’know,” Satoru mentioned whilst he spun in a rolling chair ‘commandeered’ from Yaga. “Akane. Our girl’s mentor. Former mentor? Whatever the case is.” 

Suguru sat his pencil aside, any investment in his studies gone.

“When?” 

“Last March.” 

Suguru sighed. “And you didn’t bring this up earlier because…?” 

There’s a twinkle in his companion’s sunglasses-covered eyes.

“Must’ve slipped my mind,” Satoru shrugged. 

Liar, Suguru thought, unamused by Satoru’s faux nonchalance. He must’ve had his reasons for neglecting to mention it for so long. Suguru figured your impending trip home had something to do with Satoru’s ‘miraculously’ cured amnesia. 

“What? Don’t tell me you aren’t curious.”

The provocation failed to irk him. Instead, Suguru refocused the conversation.“Tell me your impression of her.”

Satoru stilled, threw his feet atop Suguru’s desk, and placed his hands on his neck. “About what you’d expect from a disgraced daughter of an influential clan. Bad-tempered, tattooed, pierced up… hah! Bet her old man would go into cardiac arrest if he saw her.” 

“Satoru,” he implored. 

“Fine, fine. So impatient,” The white-haired sorcerer complained. “I misread her. She got all mopey after she fessed up about Cursed Technique: Null. I wrote it off as envy. The student exceeding the master, or whatever.” 

Satoru remained silent for a moment. “Post Kaizu, though, I assume the feeling actually gnawing at her… ” 

Kaizu. 

Panicked phone calls. Satoru’s agitated exclamations. His horrified silence. Your breathing faded, theirs accelerated. You looked so small. So human. He scarcely believed the limp girl cradled in his arms just executed such a devastating maneuver. Your cursed energy had exceeded any output he’d felt from you before. It was too much, your body wasn’t ready to endure a spike like that. 

Suguru had never felt so distant from the title ‘strongest.’

At some point later on, in a hospital waiting room, Suguru posed a question. 

Satoru heard him yet offered no response.

“Who taught her how to do that?”

“... was guilt.”)

“You didn’t visit her.” 

Akane blinks. 

“Hah?” 

“You didn’t visit her,” Suguru repeats, his tone firmer. “[First]. Your student.” 

She exhales shakily. Suguru thinks she looks tired. 

“If you have something to say, just come out with it already.” 

He was prepared to wear her down for hours — this willing cooperation saves him time. Although, it doesn’t make navigating the volatile minefield that lies ahead any easier. He knows how to rein Satoru in when he’s going too far. He can fluster you without giving too much of himself away. After rescuing someone from a curse, he knows the exact pitch, timbre, and tempo necessary to pierce through their abject horror. He’s a virtuoso at playing people, a conductor hidden amidst the audience. 

Deceit. Misdirection. Coercion. 

His repertoire is expansive and ever-growing. 

From what he can see — what he can feel — the prodigal daughter before him boasts a similar discography. She returns his unflinching eye contact as if issuing a challenge. Daring him to use dubious methods that might work on anyone else. This obstinate resolve reminds him of you. Once you’ve determined your course, even he struggles to change the route.

He abandons all pretense. 

“You didn’t want her here,” he theorizes. Akane’s face reveals nothing. “You knew something like that was bound to happen.” 

Sorcerers aren’t only at war with curses. No, there’s an inner battle that must be fought as well. The recognition that the next assignment could be your last. And if it is, you won’t be commemorated by the masses; to them, you don’t exist. Your sacrifice will be known to a select few who mourn you, or  a few who don’t. Everything could go right. Everything could go wrong. Engaging in that high risk for such a low reward goes against one’s self-preservation instincts.

How each sorcerer handles this fight is unique to them. 

As for your strategy — you refuse to acknowledge this conflict exists. 

Paradoxically enough, that functions as your self-preservation. 

Akane smiles thinly. She’s almost his reflection, in that regard.

“Full marks.” 

-

Suguru idly observes as Satoru paces back and forth, his troubled figure illuminated by a row of vending machines. 

A nearby street lamp flickers. It’s late, but the local convenience stores glow with artificial light, tempting customers to come inside. Some are weary salarymen grabbing ready-made meals, others are middle schoolers clinking their change together, praying they can afford a sugary treat. The latest group cheers, indicating their triumph. 

The duo receives odd looks — thanks to their school uniforms, no doubt — not that they pay the judgment any mind. No one troubles them. Not even a wandering policeman, who, under normal circumstances, would scold minors out by themselves at night. 

Suguru theorizes that Satoru’s ominous aura is what subconsciously repels them. 

Earlier today, Suguru bid farewell to his parents and boarded a train for Tokyo. As nice as it was to spend time with his family, he’d been looking forward to reuniting with you and Satoru. He amassed quite the phone bill thanks to your frequent correspondence. Nonetheless, he carried the minor debt with pride; it’s a sign you often thought about him. He planned for Satoru to assume the debt by dangling the pictures you sent his way as ransom. 

His encounter with Ishimoto Akane grounded his soaring mood. This was made worse when he entered the dormitory, only to find a tight-lipped Shoko and agitated Satoru. 

Shoko remarked that unlike the two of them, she’d be handling things with ‘tact,’ and retired for the evening, not wanting to catch their ‘stupidity contagion.’ 

It’d been hours since then. That time stretch brought them closer to revealing the complete picture, but a few pieces remained missing or incomplete. 

The frenetic sorcerer stills and rummages around in his pocket.

Suguru takes the opportunity to break the silence. “I—” 

He cuts himself off as Satoru whips out a familiar-looking chapstick. The cutesy design befitting your aesthetic stands out like a sore thumb in Satoru’s large, calloused hands. 

“... Where did you get that?” 

“[First]’s room,” is Satoru’s response, spoken nonchalantly whilst applying it to his lips. “Why?” 

Suguru snorts. Sometimes Satoru’s ungodly strength blinds him to the fact that he’s still a teenage boy. 

“Won’t she notice it’s missing?” 

“I replaced it.” 

“Ah.”

“She has plenty more in the drawer beneath her vanity if you want one.” 

Suguru knows the exact spot Satoru’s referring to. They both helped you assemble it (Satoru got bored fifteen minutes in and fell asleep on your bed but still claims credit). 

After noting this suggestion, he asks, “Have you calmed down?” 

Satoru barks out a ‘hah!’ as if he’d just heard a hilarious joke. “Me? Shouldn’t I be askin’ you that?” 

Suguru massages his temples, sensing the looming headache that awaits him. “Satoru…” 

“We could follow her residuals, you know,” Satoru suggests. He tips his sunglasses down, revealing eyes that gleam with predatory intent. “With the Six Eyes, it’d be a walk in the park.” 

“And then what?” 

“Oh, you know, chat about the weather, latest political scandals, that sort of thing.” 

“You can’t strong-arm yourself through everything in life, Satoru,” Suguru chastises. 

Satoru opens and closes his lips. He folds his arms, scrunches his eyebrows together, and rapidly taps his foot. The shift puts Suguru at ease. Satoru adopts this countenance on the rare occurrence he’s faced with a formidable threat. The serious, almost somber visage speaks to his ironclad resolve. Suguru may have told his companion that he can’t strong-arm himself through everything, but that’s a half-truth; the Gojo clan’s pride can do whatever he pleases. 

It’s consideration of the aftermath that Suguru wishes to instill in his companion. Tempering the arrogance of a God is no easy feat. 

“... She isn’t going anywhere,” Satoru declares, as if any other outcome was blasphemous. 

“She isn’t,” Suguru agrees. Then, he lowers his voice, adding, “We can’t disregard what Ishimoto-san is getting at, though.” 

“Simple — all our girl needs is a good ol’ fashioned intervention.” 

“An ‘intervention,’” Suguru deadpans. “Didn’t you already try that?” 

Satoru smiles in a way Suguru can only describe as dopey, reminiscing on the night you got ‘mad at him for wanting you to be mad at him.’ That’s how Suguru interpreted the detailed account Satoru gave the next morning, anyway. 

(“I wish she would’ve cried, just a little bit; it would’ve made her look extra cute,” Satoru cooed, to which Suguru shot him an exasperated look. “Oh, don’t act so high and mighty. You’d make her cry just so you could wipe her tears away.”)

Suguru shakes his head. “Here’s what I think — the self-sacrifice in and of itself isn’t the problem. Well, the main problem. There has to be a reason, something personal… identifying that takes priority.” 

A gust rips through the narrow street, howling as it terrorizes store signs and doors with weak hinges. The two strongest sorcerers remain oblivious to the drift. What occupies their mind is greater than any force of nature, insignificant or otherwise. They have the means to challenge natural phenomena itself. And they would, should they deem it an obstacle to their goals. This single-minded determination is what elevates them beyond the rest. 

“I guess the old man has a soft spot for us after all,” Satoru says, referring to Yaga, Suguru guesses.

Breathlessly, he chuckles. “Maybe.” 

Studying Satoru from his peripherals, he silently mulls over the far likelier reality—  

—that Yaga understands Satoru’s potential for saving this world is matched only by his capacity to condemn it. 

-

From a young age, Ieri Shoko found irony everywhere she looked.

It’s prevalent in the medical field she wishes to pursue. When stabbed, it’s better to leave the knife in than immediately pull it out. For an immune system to better defend itself from a virus, it must first be exposed to it in trace amounts. If an appendage becomes too infected, removing that piece of the body is better than keeping it whole. It was you who pointed out this theme extends into the world of jujutsu. 

“You’d think fighting to survive a curse instead of defeating it would be an okay alternative, right?” You had said. “But really… that just means someone else gets to foot the bill. All ‘cause you cheaped out.” 

She regrets not asking you to elaborate. At the time, the observation felt so personal, so intimately interwoven with who you are, that she thought it best to leave it alone. 

Watching you now, lounging on the swing beside her, she’s determined not to repeat her previous mistake. 

“Tired?” 

“Well, yeah,” you laugh. It sounds off. “I wasn’t meant for long flights. It takes everything out of me, y’know?” 

Shoko unsuccessfully digs around her pocket for a lighter. The search ceases when she recalls its inopportune location — left behind in her dorm room in the rush to be the one who reaches you first. Not sure what else to do with her hands, she folds them onto her lap. Meanwhile, you pick at a stray thread on your jeans. 

“I didn’t mean from traveling,” she clarifies. 

“Hm?” 

“How many curses did you exorcise back home?” 

Your fingers go still.

“I dunno… a few?” You shrug, stuffing your hands in your pockets. “If I happen across them, I’m not gonna just let them run amuck. That’d be irresponsible.” 

Your nonchalance comes across as forced. You may be keeping your words lighthearted, but she can tell you’ve dialed up your senses, monitoring her closely. It reminds her of a cornered mouse. It’s then that any lingering doubt over her choices leading up to this moment dispels. Resolve strengthened, she swears to make as much progress as she possible before those two catch on. She felt a bit bad lying about your flight’s time, but felt the situation justified the call. 

“It feels different when they’re close to home, doesn’t it?” 

Shoko’s eyes scan over the lively park before them. There’s a group of children playing with one another, some scouring the grass for bugs and others playing tag. Their guardians watch from a distance, chatting amongst themselves, likely discussing the upcoming poor weather or latest neighborhood scandals. Young couples walk hand in hand along the pathways, cheeks flushed from the joy of experiencing their first love. 

“Encountering a curse is draining. Fighting them, even more so. But when they’re on a street you walk every day, or a few blocks over from your house, you can’t help but start thinking. ‘What if I hadn’t come this way? Would it have hurt people I know? People I love and care about?’”

Her eyes find yours. “‘What if it killed them?’”

You look like you’re going to be sick. 

She ignores how your expression contorts her stomach and continues. “Sorcerers are in the minority, it’s true. So… fighting to survive isn’t selfish. It’s strategic.”

In the distance, the rough silhouette of two individuals grows clearer. The spotlight she commandeered grows fainter with their every step. In what remains of the fading limelight, she considers you. The CC cream that conceals the worst of your exhaustion, how your pupils dilate from high caffeine intake, then your fingers. The keys that when steepled just so, open the future for others at the cost of permanently locking yours. 

She reaches over and gently squeezes your hand. 

“Remember — we won’t be much help to anyone if we’re six feet under. So let’s aim to stay above ground.” 

-

The evening sun sinks into the horizon, demanding acknowledgment in its final moments by dousing all in a fiery hue. 

Your uniform absorbs the brunt of this last stand. The dark fabric devours the waning sunlight, heating you from head to toe. It didn’t fully occur to you that you were back when you walked through the torii gates lining the mountainous path. Nor when you unpacked in your dorm, stuffing your passport away until your next break, where it’ll serve you faithfully again. 

Instead, it was the simple act of putting your uniform on again that made home seem far, far away. 

You’d gotten used to your clothes smelling like your mother’s preferred detergent. It’s a brand you couldn’t find in Japan, sold exclusively in your home country. You wondered what meal your parents were having when you straightened out your collar. If your neighbor ever fixed that rumble their old sedan huffed out as you slipped into your tights. Whether your grandpa knew you’d landed safely when you brushed lint off your skirt. 

The campus atmosphere is serene. Tengen’s barrier is a bulwark against curses, insulating you from any potential threats. Without this assurance, some part of you was always on the defensive, anticipating anything when you slept in your childhood bedroom. It siphoned away your vitality, just like Shoko pointed out. 

You sniffle and kick a rock aside. 

How does it always end up like this?

First Akane, now Shoko, you hug yourself. I just want to protect others. What’s so wrong with that? If I don’t, then who will?

You pause abruptly. 

When Akane began mentoring you, the world as you knew it changed. Suddenly, you were given knowledge no one else was privy to, for they lacked the tools to comprehend it. You’d seen those ‘creatures’, but it was Akane that explained their malevolent nature. What they could do, the pain they inflicted, how defenseless the population at large was against them. 

The shadow that this monstrous threat cast could never be outshone by light. The best you could do was create safe pockets the size of pins in the darkness. That was the extent of your hope, the most bitter pill you’ve ever swallowed.

The lingering specter of Shoko’s reassuring touch prickles along your hand. 

It’s easy to forget you’re not alone anymore after fighting by yourself for so long. 

-

Eventually, you happen upon a clearing near the school’s main grounds. 

The steep inclines surround a sizable outdoor track. This area is known colloquially as the school’s training grounds. You prefer to train in a more secluded, wooded area, but not everyone shares your enthusiasm for subtlety. Namely, the two prodigies who have turned the field into a colosseum that’d rival the battles of ancient Rome. 

You take a seat on the grassy hill and watch what unfolds. 

Your eyes can scarcely follow the blows Suguru and Satoru exchange. Their sparring sessions are unreal — blurring the very fabric of reality. Somehow, they manage all this without using cursed energy. The spectacle you’re witnessing is simply hand-to-hand combat. It’s like watching a film with skipping frames. In a matter of seconds, they can travel a hundred meters and return to their original position. Your brain struggles to process the stimuli your senses are feeding it. 

They were already strong when you met them. But now? The nomenclature doesn’t exist to properly classify them. 

And in the future… 

There’s no telling what highs they’ll reach or the ceilings they’ll shatter. 

Their light is the most dazzling you’ve ever seen.

Within a few minutes, they conclude their training session. Satoru instantly beelines toward you, whereas Suguru cycles through stretches. There’s not even a single drop of sweat on Satoru’s body as he plops to your right. He’s wearing his signature sunglasses, despite the night's looming shadow. 

“Shouldn’t you be asleep or something?” Satoru asks. “It’s past your bedtime.”

You punch him lightly on the shoulder. He yelps out an exaggerated ‘ouch!’ rubbing the area to soothe the nonexistent wound. 

Suguru approaches at a far more leisurely pace, sending a wave that you return in kind. 

Satoru, not one to be forgotten, yells out, “Be careful, Suguru! She’s violent!” 

“Only against those who deserve it,” Suguru replies.

Fondness blossoms inside your chest as you laugh. You’d forgotten how simple life feels around them. It’s as if when the three of you are together, you’re swallowed by a pocket dimension, isolated from everyone and everything. Permanently inhabiting this utopia is a temptation. 

Satoru places his hands behind his head and lays onto the ground. “Here I am, potentially out of commission forever, without a single ounce of sympathy to show for it.” 

“We could always settle in court,” you offer. 

Suguru stands before you, hands on his hips. “Or he could finally figure out how to use reverse cursed technique.” 

At this, Satoru shoots back up, his sunglasses falling askew. “Hah? Last I recall, you gave yourself a headache giving it a go. At least I’m not that bad.” 

“Hurdles are necessary to improve. Without any, how do you know you’re truly making progress?” 

Satoru gives him a grossed-out look. “All this philosophizing is gonna turn your hair gray before you hit twenty.” 

“That’s rich, coming from the guy whose hair is already white,” You point out. “What’s that say about you?” 

Suguru muffles his laughter behind his hand. 

Satoru’s quick to overcome his incredulity. “It says that I’m going to spoil the next volume of Inuyasha. Sesshomaru—” 

You cover your ears and sprint off. “Can’t hear you, can’t hear you, can’t hear you…!” 

He chases after you, periodically shouting the names of the main characters right when you think he’s finished. You do your best to block out his voice, running like your life depends on it. He’s hot on your heels, cackling at your expense. After a stretch of silence, you uncover your ears, hesitantly turning around to check if he’s finished his torture. 

You meet Satoru’s gaze. His lips are parted, his eyebrows slightly raised. Your reflection in his dark lenses appears equally perplexed. He straightens his sunglasses and regards you with an unreadable expression. 

“... You’ve gotten faster.” 

The comment is so quiet, you’re unsure if you heard him correctly. 

“Hm?” 

“Nothing,” he dismisses, waving you off. “You shoujo-loving types sure take this stuff seriously. It’s almost cultish.” 

“I don’t wanna hear that from the guy who references Digimon like it’s some sorta scripture!” 

“Honda Tohru is a lame heroine.” 

You audibly gasp. “Wh— you take that back!” 

And so it’s your turn to chase Satoru, who, for reasons unknown, is oddly knowledgeable regarding Fruits Basket. 

-

“Could you guys be honest with me about something?” 

“All depends.” 

“Of course.” 

Satoru and Suguru’s responses come out simultaneously, the contents offering little reassurance. You’re not sure what you expected. Nonetheless, you press past the gnawing discomfort, your conversation with Shoko a fresh memory. 

“Did Akane stop by while I was gone?” 

You scrutinize their countenances for involuntary reactions that might betray their inner thoughts. You begin with Satoru, who was in the middle of cleaning his sunglasses when you posed the question. His eyes, which normally brim with mischief, have an eerie calmness about them; like sheets of ice that were once choppy waters. He smiles softly and slips his lenses back into place, undoubtedly aware of the intent behind your stare. 

Then there’s Suguru. He hums, as if finding your inquiry unexpected and not an inevitable point of contention. He’s a more challenging puzzle to decipher than Satoru. With the latter, you can roughly gauge the greater picture, blurry and incomplete as it may be. Suguru, on the other hand, hasn’t given you enough pieces to attempt a solution. 

Satoru continues mulling over your question while Suguru responds, “Is that what’s been worrying you lately?” 

So they picked up on it too, you think. 

Frowning, you shift in your seat. Blades of grass tickle your thighs and you push your skirt down. 

“Er… not that, specifically,” you admit. You feel like you’re surrounded by walls that know just how far to close in to give the impression you might be crushed. “I just… I’ve been thinking. About why I’m here— what I’ll go on to do. And, well…” 

Much to their surprise, you stand, squeeze your eyes shut, and bow ninety degrees. 

“For so long, I’ve carried this burden. The truth is, when I first learned about Null, I was relieved. I’d always have something to rely on in the worst-case scenario. But at the same time… that meant not using it could also be a mistake. You have no idea how much that scared me.” 

You curl your hands up into fists. “I don’t want to think that way anymore. I see it now — have for a while, actually — strength I couldn’t even imagine before. So, I guess what I’m trying to say is… I’m in your care. If it’s alright, I want to rely on others, starting with you two.” 

Your heart pounds wildly in the silence that follows. 

Maybe this is selfish too, you think. But I don’t want to be alone anymore. 

You hear Suguru speak your name. It isn’t until he repeats it, his tone kind yet firm, that you straighten yourself and face him. 

Satoru stands further back, scratching his neck. Much to your confusion, a red flush has risen to his cheeks, extending up to his ears. Suguru corrects your staring by taking your face in his hands and redirecting your attention to him. Warmth envelops you. Your faces are inches apart, but somehow, the distance feels nonexistent, like he’s peering into your mind unhindered. 

“Surely, you can dream bigger than that,” Suguru chastises.

“... Eh?” 

“Do you think so little of us?” Satoru grumbles. It almost sounds like he’s pouting. Was he not listening to anything you just said? The sincerity behind your every word? Why are they both acting like you insulted them? 

“Eh?!” 

“I’m glad you’ve come to this realization, but… you don’t have to rely on anyone else. Just us,” Suguru takes a step back, though he keeps one hand cupping your cheek. You feel lightheaded. “After all…” 

“... We’re the strongest.” 

notes:

*this pun actually works decently in english ?? but akane is making a reference to how suguru sounds phonetically similar to すぐ, or sugu, which means 'soon.'

[pbaz7]

ONE SHOT: CHASING FOREVER 2

paige x azzk

warning: light sexual content (not much honestly)

word count: 8k

A/N: A few people requested a part 2 of this one with a few different prompts! This one is pretty much like the first one just something cute but it’s kind of a prequel! Hope you enjoy :)

—————————————————————————

Paige pulled into her designated parking spot at the arena, backing in as Azzi glanced down at something on her phone. The car came to a smooth stop, and Paige hopped out, shutting her door quickly. Azzi reached for the handle to get out as well, but the click of the locks caught her off guard.

"Oh my God, Paige!" Azzi called, looking up to see Paige jogging around the front of the car, a grin plastered on her face.

"Hold on, hold on," Paige said dramatically as she unlocked the door and swung it open. "Alright it’s safe to get out now."

Azzi rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the laugh that rolled out. “You’re absolutely ridiculous.”

"Ridiculous or thoughtful? Pick one," Paige said, leaning down to offer her hand like she was escorting royalty.

Azzi took it, though she shook her head. “Baby I'm only 5 months. I’m barely showing. I don’t need you treating me like I’m made of glass.”

Paige ignored her, gently helping Azzi step out of the car. “You are literally carrying the most precious cargo in the world. If I don’t protect you, what kind of wife would I be?”

“I can still walk, you know,” Azzi said, amused. “I didn’t suddenly forget how to use my legs because I’m pregnant.”

“Uh-huh.” Paige wrapped an arm securely around Azzi’s waist as they began walking toward the arena. “And if I let you walk on your own, and you trip over one of those cracks in the concrete, whose fault would it be?”

“Yours, apparently,” Azzi teased. “Because my wife obviously controls the universe.”

“Exactly.” Paige grinned. “Glad we’re on the same page now.”

Azzi gave her a playful shove, though Paige barely budged. “You know this is only going to get worse the further along I get, right? You’re going to be insufferable.”

Paige looked at her with fake seriousness. “You knew what you were signing up for when you married me. It’s in the fine print.”

Azzi smirked. “Oh, I must’ve missed the part where you turn into an insanely overprotective bodyguard slash butler when I’m pregnant.”

“I prefer devoted partner and future mom of the year,” Paige said, brushing off her wife’s sarcasm.

As they reached the entrance to the arena, Azzi paused, looking at Paige with a softer expression. “You know I appreciate everything you do, right? Even if you’re over-the-top about it.”

Paige’s grin softened, her blue eyes sparkling as she leaned in to kiss Azzi’s temple. “I know. And I’m never gonna stop being over-the-top about you.”

Azzi rolled her eyes again despite her heart swelling. “Okay, but just don’t carry me in here or anything. We’re trying to keep this lowkey, remember?”

“Fine, fine,” Paige said, opening the door for her. “But only because I respect your boundaries…For now.”

They both laughed as they made their way toward the locker room, a few teammates glancing up and giving smiles and greeting them. Everyone on the team and within the organization had been sworn to secrecy about Azzi’s pregnancy, but they couldn’t help but admire how Paige hovered over her every chance she got.

As Azzi sat down in her usual spot, Paige grabbed her a water bottle and leaned down to kiss her forehead before heading off to her locker to get ready for the game. Azzi shook her head, smiling to herself.

“Over-the-top,” she muttered, but there was no denying she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Aaliyah strolled into the locker room with a grin, spotting Azzi sitting in the corner. She leaned casually against the bench, tilting her head. "How’s the baby daddy?" she teased.

Azzi laughed, resting a hand lightly on her bump. “The baby’s fine. But your friend is ridiculous,” she said, motioning toward the direction Paige was.

Aaliyah raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “What’d she do now?”

Azzi laughed, shaking her head. “She literally refuses to let me do anything alone. This morning, she followed me to the bathroom because she had just gotten out of the shower and said the floor was too slippery for me to go alone. I keep trying to tell her I’m pregnant, not hopeless but it’s like talking to a brick wall.”

Aaliyah burst out laughing, folding her arms. “I mean, you married Paige. You should’ve known she was going to turn into your personal bodyguard. Remember how she was at UConn? She literally didn’t leave your side if she didn’t have to.”

“True,” Azzi admitted with a smile. “But this is next-level. She offered to carry me to the car last week because she said it was too hot outside with the heatwave.”

Aaliyah laughed again. “She was like this even when you weren’t pregnant though. Remember when you got that stomach bug like your freshman year, and she showed up to the dorm with five different types of soup because she didn’t know which one you’d want that night?”

Azzi groaned, though her smile didn’t fall. “I remember and you were definitely in on it. You and Nika were sitting there hyping her up like it wasn’t already over the top.”

“Guilty,” Aaliyah said with a shrug. “But hey, it worked though, didn’t it? You got yourself a wife out of it.”

Azzi smirked, leaning back. “True. But I feel like it’s only going to get worse when I’m further along.”

Aaliyah grinned. “Absolutely. She’s going to be chasing after you with snacks and water 24/7.” She paused, for a second before she remembered something. “By the way, Nika and Caroline are already fighting over who gets to be the God mom. They’re both dying to come visit and see you guys when the seasons over.”

Azzi laughed. “I’m sure they were. Knowing those two, they’ll probably try to outdo each other with baby gifts.”

“Exactly,” Aaliyah said, shaking her head. “Nika already texted me asking if Paige had set up a baby registry yet because Paige refused to tell her anything.”

Before Azzi could respond, Paige returned with a large bowl of fruit in her hand. She handed it to Azzi with a proud smile. “Here you go, wifey.”

Azzi scrunched her nose at the sight of it, her appetite for acidic things these days fickle at best. “Fruit? Again?”

Paige gave her a pointed look, crossing her arms. “Yes, fruit. It’s good for you and the baby.”

Azzi sighed, already knowing she wasn’t going to win this argument. “Fine,” she muttered, taking the bowl reluctantly. But as soon as she spotted the pineapple and grapes, she wrinkled her nose even more. “You know I can’t eat these.”

Paige tilted her head, looking down at the bowl and immediately knew what Azzi was referring to. “What’s wrong with pineapple and grapes baby?”

Azzi shot her a look. “The pineapple is too acidic, and I just don’t trust grapes right now.”

Paige groaned lightly but grabbed the fork, fishing out the pineapple and grapes with exaggerated care. “You’re so picky these days,” she mumbled as she removed them, dropping some of the pieces onto a napkin and others in her mouth.

Azzi smirked slightly, satisfied now, but as Paige handed the bowl back, Azzi noticed one lonely piece of pineapple and a grape still sitting there with the rest of the fruit. She raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

Paige grinned. “One of each won’t hurt you.”

Azzi rolled her eyes but stabbed the pineapple with her fork, eating it with a dramatic slowness just to make her point. Paige watched, arms crossed, clearly fighting back a laugh.

Aaliyah bit her lip, trying not to laugh as she watched the whole interaction. “You’ve got her trained, P.”

Paige grinned, sliding onto the chair next to Azzi as she watched her eat every piece. “Gotta make sure my wife and baby are taken care of. It’s my job.”

Azzi rolled her eyes but leaned into Paige slightly as she ate. Aaliyah smirked, looking between them. “You two are disgusting, I’m leaving” she joked, though her smile said otherwise as she walked away.

…

Azzi sat on the bench, leaning back casually with her arms draped over the backrest, her legs crossed. Outwardly, she looked just like everyone else on the team, nodding along with the assistant coach’s occasional remarks and clapping when her teammates made a good play. But inwardly, she wasn’t paying as much attention to the game as she probably should have been.

It had all started a few minutes into the second quarter when Paige drove to the basket, got fouled, and managed to finish the layup. The crowd erupted as Paige flexed in front of the other team's bench, her biceps protruding as she looked at them with a smirk before walking to the free throw line. Azzi's heart skipped a beat, her stomach getting warm, and then...a heatwave crashed over her.

Oh God please not now, she thought, shifting uncomfortably as she uncrossed and crossed her legs again and adjusted her posture.

She tried to refocus on the game, but it was hopeless. From that moment on, Paige was the only thing Azzi could focus on. Every time Paige dribbled the ball, Azzi’s eyes were locked on the way her forearms tensed with each movement. When Paige pulled up for a jumper, Azzi found herself mesmerized by the way her shoulders rolled back. And when Paige sprinted down the court on a fast break, the sight of the sweat glistening on her arms made Azzi bite her lip unconsciously.

It was maddening. Azzi silently cursed her pregnancy hormones. She discreetly fanned herself with her hand for a moment and shifted in her seat again, trying to refocus, but every time she glanced at Paige, it got worse.

The worst s ame when Paige dove for a loose ball, her jersey riding up slightly as she scrambled back to her feet. Azzi nearly groaned out loud. She pinched the bridge of her nose and leaned back in her seat, silently begging for halftime to come quickly.

Her fingers tapped lightly on the edge of her seat as she forced herself to clap for another play.

But the way Paige’s muscles flexed as she high-fived a teammate after a timeout made Azzi seriously doubt her ability to make it through the game.

During the third quarter Paige clapped her teammates’ hands as she jogged to the bench, her jersey slightly untucked and her chest rising and falling as she caught her breath. She plopped down in the empty seat next to Azzi, wiping sweat off her brow with her forearm before grabbing her Gatorade bottle from the trainers behind her. Azzi swore her pulse skyrocketed the moment Paige sat down.

Paige took a long sip of her drink before handing it over to Azzi, her silent way of telling her to hydrate. Azzi reluctantly took it, her hands brushing against Paige’s as she grabbed the bottle. That small touch alone made her legs ache, and she immediately scolded herself internally.

“You good?” Paige asked, leaning back against the bench and looking at her wife.

Azzi nodded, as she took a large gulp of the Gatorade trying to cool herself down. Paige started rambling about the game—something about the opposing team’s defense collapsing too easily in transition without a shooter on the wing—but Azzi couldn’t focus on a single word. Her gaze had dropped to Paige’s hands, her eyes tracing the veins that ran along them. They stood out prominently against her skin, glistening slightly with sweat, and Azzi was mesmerized.

“Azzi?” Paige’s voice snapped her out of her daze.

“Hm?” Azzi blinked, trying to play it cool.

“You’re not listening to a word I’m saying, are you?” Paige asked.

“I am!” Azzi insisted, sitting up straighter, but the way she shifted in her seat betrayed her. She bit the inside of her cheek, trying to ease the warmth spreading through her body.

Paige raised an eyebrow, her blue eyes narrowing slightly as if piecing something together. A slow smirk spread across her face, and she leaned a little closer to Azzi, lowering her voice. “Mmm... I see what’s happening.”

Azzi immediately avoided eye contact, crossing her arms in mock defiance. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Leave me alone.”

Paige chuckled, her smile widening as she leaned in closer, her breath brushing against Azzi’s ear so no one else could hear. “It’s the hot flashes, isn’t it?”

Azzi groaned softly, her cheeks flushing as she turned to glare at Paige. “Shut up,” she muttered, trying to fight the grin tugging at her lips.

But Paige only grinned wider, leaning back and resting an arm on the back of Azzi’s seat. “Can’t help it if my wife finds me irresistible,” she teased.

Azzi rolled her eyes, but the heat in her cheeks betrayed her. “You’re actually the most annoying person I’ve ever met.”

“Your fault for marrying someone who’s annoying,” Paige quipped, a glint in her eyes.

Azzi shot her a pointed look, though her lips twitched with a tiny smile. “Clearly, I wasn’t thinking straight,” she fired back, trying to regain the upper hand.

Paige grinned as she watched the game. “Nope, you’re just madly in love.”

Before Azzi could respond, the coach called for a substitution, motioning for Paige to check back into the game. Paige gave Azzi one last smirk as she stood, brushing imaginary dust off her shorts.

“Enjoy the show mama,” she said with a wink.

Azzi rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth flickered as she watched Paige stroll over to the scorer’s table, effortlessly exuding her charisma. She shook her head, muttering under her breath, “I married a narcissist,” though her gaze lingered a little too long on Paige’s retreating figure.

Azzi immediately regretted showing any signs to Paige because, from the moment her wife stepped back onto the court, she carried herself with an almost unbearable level of cockiness that the crowd fed into. It was like Paige knew every little thing that could send Azzi spiraling and turned it into a game of her own.

Every time Paige scored, she celebrated just enough to draw Azzi’s attention. After a three-pointer, she held up three fingers, her hand flexing purposefully as if she knew Azzi’s eyes would lock on the veins running down her arm. On the free-throw line, Paige closed her eyes, took a deep breath and dragged her tongue slowly across her lips before releasing the ball, making it impossible for Azzi to think about anything else.

When Paige got another and-one, she flexed her arms again, turning just slightly toward the bench. Her muscles rippled under her jersey, and the subtle cock of her head as she looked directly at Azzi made it clear she knew exactly what she was doing.

Then there was the jersey wipe. It should’ve been innocent—a player lifting their jersey to wipe sweat from their face—but when Paige did it, exposing the muscles of her stomach, Azzi felt her entire body tense. She crossed her legs tightly and clenched her jaw, desperately willing herself to focus on the game.

Just as Azzi thought she might get a moment of reprieve during a timeout, Paige managed to take it a step further. As she walked past her to sit on the bench, she casually brushed her hand along the small of Azzi’s back. It was brief, barely noticeable to anyone else, but the heat radiating from Paige’s body sent a shiver down Azzi’s spine.

Azzi’s breath hitched, and she instinctively closed her eyes, trying to steady herself. This woman is literally going to give me a heart attack, she thought, exhaling sharply.

When she opened her eyes, Paige was already standing up from the huddle, her smirk practically glowing as she called out over her shoulder, “You’re doing so well.”

Azzi shook her head, biting the inside of her cheek to stop herself from smiling as she sat down.

It was maddening how something so simple—so mundane—could leave her feeling completely needy.

…

After the game, a few players lingered on the court to sign autographs and take pictures with the fans who had stuck around. Azzi, always being generous with her time, was among them, chatting and smiling as she signed jerseys and basketballs. Paige, of course, stayed nearby—not hovering, but never straying out of earshot. She leaned casually against the scorer's table, talking to a few people, occasionally glancing over at Azzi while she talked with fans. She always had that protective instinct about her with Azzi, but it was heightened now that Azzi was pregnant.

As Azzi handed back a signed jersey, a young fan excitedly darted forward, accidentally bumping into her stomach with their elbow in the process. It wasn’t a hard hit—just enough to be uncomfortable—but it was enough to make Paige’s head fully snap in that direction as Azzi’s hand immediately went to her stomach instinctively.

Her relaxed posture vanished instantly as she straightened, her piercing blue eyes narrowing on the scene. Paige took a step forward, already halfway to Azzi before Azzi noticed her.

She turned to meet Paige’s gaze at the same time with a calm expression already knowing her wife was panicking. Her brown eyes softened as she shot Paige a subtle warning look—Relax.

Paige froze in place, jaw tight as her gaze flicked between Azzi and the fans. She knew Azzi didn’t want her to overreact in public, but the protective instinct ringing in her head was almost impossible to suppress.

Azzi, reading Paige like a book, gave her a barely noticeable thumbs-up, her lips curling into a small smile to emphasize she was fine.

Paige exhaled through her nose, her shoulders relaxing slightly, though her eyes still lingered on Azzi for a moment longer as if double-checking. When Azzi turned back to the fan, resuming their conversation without missing a beat, Paige backed off.

Aaliyah, who had been signing things a few feet away, smirked as she walked over to Paige. “You good there, Mama Bear?” she teased under her breath, nudging Paige’s arm.

Paige rolled her eyes, but smiled softly as she crossed her arms. “I’m fine,” she muttered, her eyes still trained on Azzi. “Just...watching.”

Aaliyah chuckled and shook her head, patting Paige’s shoulder. “Yeah, I’ll bet you are.”

Meanwhile, Azzi gave one last signature before walking toward Paige. “You good, protector of all things Azzi?” she teased, her voice quiet as she reached her wife’s side.

Paige shrugged, sliding an arm around Azzi’s waist. “Yup,” she replied, pressing a quick kiss to Azzi’s temple as they started walking towards the locker room.

Azzi sighed but leaned into Paige anyway, unable to resist the warmth of her touch. “You’re going to give yourself a heart attack one of these days if you don’t relax.”

Paige grinned, her blue eyes sparkling. “Maybe but it’ll be worth it .”

…

Azzi sat off to the side in the back, her arms crossed and legs stretched out in front of her as she listened to Paige handle the press conference. Her mind wandered between the questions being asked, her own thoughts, and the swirl of heat she couldn't quite settle. The questions ranged from the usual—about her performance in the game, team dynamics, and upcoming opponents.

Paige, as always, answered everything with ease.

“Paige, how do you feel about your performance tonight? Do you feel like the team is in rhythm as you head deeper into the season?”

Paige nodded, leaning slightly forward. “Definitely. Um, we’ve been working hard in practice, and today was just a reflection of that. The chemistry’s there, and everyone’s stepping up when we need them. It’s just been fun to see it all come together on the court.”

Azzi found herself watching her wife with an almost distracted admiration. Paige had always been good at controlling the narrative, redirecting it as she needed. She answered with confidence and gave just enough without overexplaining. But as much as Azzi tried to focus on the flow of the conference, her body was betraying her again.

The sudden wave of heat hit her like a punch, taking her breath away. Azzi shifted slightly, her arms uncrossing as she tried to fan herself subtly without drawing attention. The flush spread from her neck to her face, and she clenched her jaw, her hands gripping the armrests of her chair. Her pregnancy hormones weren’t just inconvenient—they were relentless when she didn’t listen.

Azzi closed her eyes briefly, focusing on her breathing as Paige answered another question about their strategy tonight. She heard her wife’s steady voice cutting through the heat in her mind like a lifeline.

But then, as she opened her eyes, the question they'd all been dreading came.

“Paige,” one reporter began, leaning forward in his chair, “there have been reports from trusted sources that your wife, Azzi Fudd, is out for the season due to pregnancy. Can you confirm or deny this?”

Azzi froze as she tightened her grip on the armrests. Her stomach clenched, and she had to force herself to not press her hand over her belly as if to shield herself. She glanced at Paige, whose jaw tightened ever so slightly, but she kept her expression professional.

“Azzi is out right now due to an ankle injury,” Paige said. “That’s what the official report says because that’s exactly what it is. She’s taking the time to recover, and she’ll come back when she’s ready.”

The reporter wasn’t satisfied. “Yes, that’s what the official report says, but sources suggest otherwise. Are you saying there’s no truth to the pregnancy rumors?”

Paige let out a slow exhale through her nose, her lips pressing together briefly before she responded. “Um. Unfortunately I don’t think you can really take the words of ‘trusted WNBA sources’ a lot of times,” she said, the edge in her tone subtle. “Um, they have a history of spinning whatever narrative they want to fit the news cycle. We can take my situation coming out of college as an example. Back then I personally stated multiple times that I would be going to the draft after my season ended, but that didn’t stop reporters from writing articles about me trying to force my way out of Dallas with claims of me threatening to stay an extra year.”

The reporter pressed again. “Well, you kind of did eventually force your way out.”

Paige chuckled dryly, shaking her head. “I wouldn’t say forced,” she said, her tone still calm but laced with some sarcasm. “I had a genuine conversation with the front office about not being happy there, and they were able to work with me. We both got something out of the trade and we have a very good relationship to this day.”

Azzi shifted in her seat, trying to quell the heat building inside her. She knew Paige could handle the questions, but the scrutiny felt unbearable. The way the reporter kept pressing, the way her pregnancy was being prodded into the spotlight—it made her stomach churn.

“And as for the claims that your wife, Azzi Fudd, is expecting a child?” the reporter continued, asking the same question he’s already stated.

Paige’s jaw clenched again, her patience clearly thinning. “I’m not Azzi. I’m Paige,” she said firmly. “So I can’t really answer questions about Azzi for you. While yes, I am married to Azzi, we are two different entities. We’re two separate people with separate emotions, thought processes, expectations, you name it. So no, I, Paige Bueckers, cannot answer a question for Azzi Fudd right now.

The silence that followed was heavy, the reporter seemingly unsure how to respond as he sat back down.

Azzi let out a slow breath, her body relaxing slightly as she watched Paige shut down the line of questions.

Paige moved on to the next question with ease, her tone shifting back to a more casual rhythm as the questions transitioned back to basketball. But Azzi wasn’t paying attention anymore. She was too caught up in the way Paige had defended her and protected their privacy.

Azzi leaned back in her chair, exhaling slowly as she tried to focus on calming her body. Focus, Azzi. You survived a whole game, you can survive the rest of this press conference, she told herself. But the way Paige’s eyes kept flickering to the back of the room to her to check on her was making it incredibly difficult.

…

When they finally got home Azzi lay propped up against the headboard, her robe tied loosely around her as she flipped through the pages of her book. She was trying to focus on the words in front of her, but her thoughts kept drifting to the press conference earlier that day, and, more recently, to Paige. The sound of water shutting off in the bathroom made her glance up, her eyes lingering on the closed door.

When Paige finally emerged, a cloud of steam trailed behind her. Paige’s towel was wrapped snugly around her body, her skin glistening with lingering drops of water. Her hair damp around her shoulders. She moved toward the dresser, completely unaware of the effect she was having on Azzi as she sifted through her clothes.

Azzi’s eyes followed every movement, her gaze dragging down the muscles in Paige’s back as they flexed with each small shift. She bit her lip, her book forgotten in her lap. She wanted to focus on something—anything—other than the heat building in her chest, but it was impossible when Paige looked so effortlessly gorgeous.

“Baby,” Azzi said softly, her voice cutting through the quietness of the room.

Paige glanced over her shoulder, eyebrows raised. “Hm?” she replied absently, holding a folded T-shirt in her hand.

Azzi didn’t answer right away. Instead, she motioned with her hand, beckoning Paige to come over..

Paige set the shirt down and walked toward the bed. “What’s up?” she asked, her tone casual. She leaned down, her hand finding its place on Azzi’s stomach, her touch light. “You okay?” she asked softly, her brows knitting together with concern.

Azzi nodded, her hand coming up to rest on Paige’s. “We’re fine,” she assured her.

Paige exhaled in relief, her thumb tracing a soothing circle over Azzi’s stomach. “Why you being so ominous then?”.

Azzi tilted her head, a faint smile tugging at her lips as she watched her wife. Paige didn’t even realize how naturally her protectiveness kicked in, and something about that melted Azzi’s heart.

Azzi’s hand slid up, brushing against Paige’s wrist, and she gave a playful tug. “Sit with me for a second,” she murmured, her voice dipping slightly.

Paige tilted her head, curious but still confused. “You sure you’re okay baby?” she asked again, even as she lowered herself to sit on the edge of the bed beside Azzi.

Azzi nodded again, her hand still holding Paige’s. “I just missed you,” she said simply, her voice soft but laced with something that made Paige pause.

Paige finally looked at her, really looked at her, and something in Azzi’s expression made her eyes narrow slightly. “You’re looking at me funny,” Paige teased, though her own voice dipped slightly, a smirk tugging at her lips.

Azzi chuckled, her hand brushing against Paige’s again. “You’re the one walking around here looking like that,” she responded, her eyes glancing at the towel still wrapped around Paige’s body.

A grin broke across Paige’s face as she leaned closer. “Ohhh, so that’s what this is about,” she teased, as her hand shifted, her fingers gently squeezing Azzi’s side.

Azzi rolled her eyes but didn’t bother denying it. “Can you blame me?” she said as her gaze flickered over Paige’s face. “You’re just... impossible sometimes.”

Paige’s grin softened into something warmer as she leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to Azzi’s lips. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” she murmured against her lips before pulling back, her hand still resting over Azzi’s stomach.

When Paige pulled back to look at her, Azzi’s eyes were dark, her robe slipping just enough to show the soft curve of her collarbone.

Paige smiled, her hand sliding along Azzi’s side but carefully avoiding her stomach. “You miss me, huh?” she teased as her thumb grazed the edge of Azzi’s robe.

Azzi didn’t bother hiding her impatience. “I miss you,” she repeated, her voice firmer now. Her fingers curling around Paige’s forearm, pulling her closer. “You. Not just your company.”

Paige raised an eyebrow at her, amusement flickering in her expression. “You’re cute,” she murmured, but there was no hesitance in her movements as adjusted herself, carefully balancing her weight so she hovered over Azzi without putting any pressure on her stomach.

Azzi’s hands were on her instantly, sliding up Paige’s arms, then into her damp hair. “Come here,” she whispered, and before Paige could respond, Azzi tugged her down into a kiss.

Paige had every intention of starting slow, to take her time, but Azzi had other plans. The kiss was urgent from the start, Azzi’s tongue sliding past Paige’s lips without hesitation, her fingers tangling in Paige’s hair to keep her close. Paige groaned softly, adjusting to Azzi’s pace immediately, her hand sliding down to grip Azzi’s hip. The sound of their breathing filled the room, mingling with the faint rustle of fabric as Paige’s towel began to loosen.

Azzi pulled back just enough to speak, her lips brushing against Paige’s as she murmured, “I don’t need foreplay.” Her voice was breathless, and when Paige pulled back to give her an incredulous look, Azzi’s cheeks flushed. “Please,” Azzi whispered, her tone almost desperate now. “I’ve been dealing with this for hours.”

Paige blinked at her, and then a soft chuckle escaped her lips. “Hours, hm?” she repeated, tilting her head.

Azzi groaned, her hands tightening in Paige’s hair in frustration. “Paige,” she said, her voice a low warning.

Paige hummed, her smirk softening into a smile as she leaned back down, her nose brushing against Azzi’s. “Okay, okay,” she murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of Azzi’s mouth. “Whatever you want, baby.”

With that, Paige obliged, trailing her hand down Azzi’s body undoing her robe gently before finishing her journey and settling in between Azzi’s legs.

As she felt what was going on Paige’s chuckle was soft, and Azzi’s eyes snapped open, narrowing into a glare. “Shut up,” Azzi muttered, tugging lightly at Paige’s damp hair to make her point.

Paige only grinned wider, her lips twitching as she leaned in closer. “Mmm, don’t be embarrassed baby” she teased, slipping her fingers into Azzi easily as she tilted her head to kiss her.

Azzi sighed into the kiss at the feeling, her hands finding their way back into Paige’s hair, tugging her even closer. The kiss deepened quickly, and Paige hummed against Azzi’s lips, loving the warmth and the way her wife clung to her.

Breaking the kiss, Paige trailed her lips down Azzi’s jaw, her kisses soft but knowing exactly where they needed to go. She dipped lower, pressing her lips to the curve of Azzi’s collarbone before murmuring, “I love you, mama.”

Azzi sighed contentedly, her body relaxing against the pillows as she whispered back, “I love you too, baby.”

Paige smiled against her skin, the curve of her lips brushing Azzi’s chest as she moved to the spot just below her collarbone. When Paige nipped lightly at the sensitive area, Azzi let out a soft whimper, her fingers tightening in Paige’s hair to pull her closer.

“I’m not going to last long,” Azzi admitted, her voice breathy as her body reacted almost instantly to Paige’s touch.

Paige laughed, the sound vibrating against Azzi’s skin as she kissed the spot she’d just bitten. “I know, baby,” she murmured. “Something about this pregnancy, huh?”

Azzi groaned, her cheeks flushing embarrassed by how easily Paige unraveled her these days. “Don’t start,” she mumbled, but the way her body arched into Paige’s touch as she curled her fingers betrayed her words.

Paige lifted her head, her eyes meeting Azzi’s with a soft, adoring gaze. “I promise I’m not complaining,” she admitted. “You’re perfect like this, beautiful. I love every version of you.”

Azzi’s breath hitched at the sincerity in Paige’s words, and she reached up to cup her wife’s face, her thumb brushing over Paige’s cheek. “You’re too good to me,” she whispered, pulling her down into another kiss.

Paige hummed softly as she kissed Azzi deeply, her fingers moving exactly the way her wife needed. The way Azzi was arching into her had Paige biting back a smirk. But when Azzi’s hands slid down to grip her lower back, trying to pull her even closer, Paige paused, lifting her head slightly.

“Careful, pretty,” Paige murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair from Azzi’s face as she looked into her eyes.

Azzi’s breath hitched, her jaw clenching as her hands flexed against Paige’s back. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she whispered back, “I am being careful.”

Paige shook her head lightly, amusement flickering in her eyes as she leaned down to kiss Azzi’s jaw. “Mmm, no, you’re being impatient,” she teased as her fingers slowly worked.

Azzi exhaled sharply, gripping Paige tighter. “Can you blame me?” she said breathily, tilting her head back slightly as Paige’s lips wandered. “You’ve been driving me crazy since the moment you walked out of the bathroom.”

“Yeah?” Paige said softly, dragging her lips back up to Azzi’s ear. “Tell me how.”

Azzi groaned as she felt herself getting closer, her fingers tangling in Paige’s hair again. “You standing there with your towel, like you didn’t know exactly what you were doing—”

Paige chuckled, cutting her off with a gentle bite to her earlobe. “I wasn’t doing anything,” she whispered against her ear.

Azzi scoffed lightly, her voice breathy. “You exist, Paige. That’s the problem.”

Paige grinned against her skin, her kisses moving lower again. “I can’t help that, beautiful,” she murmured.

Azzi’s breathing quickened, her hands gripping Paige’s shoulders tighter as her body started to tense beneath her. A soft whimper escaped her lips, her head tilting back into the pillow. “Fuck I’m right there baby,” she whispered shakily, her voice trembling as her body reacted to Paige’s touch.

Paige smiled, leaning back up to brush her lips against Azzi’s ear. Her voice dropped to a soft whisper, speaking directly to the parts of Azzi she knew would unravel at her words. “That’s it, mama,” she murmured. “I can’t wait for you to give me kids baby.”

Azzi gasped, her back arching as her body melted into Paige’s. The combination of Paige’s words, her touch, and the overwhelming sensations rushing through her left her trembling. Paige kissed the side of her neck softly, her hand firm against her hip as she held Azzi in place.

“You’re everything to me,” Paige whispered, her lips brushing against Azzi’s jaw now. “You’re going to be the best mom, baby. I already know it. And I promise I’ll be right there with you every step of the way.”

Azzi’s nails dug into Paige’s shoulders, her body instinctively curling into her wife as a soft moan escaped her lips. Paige tilted her head up slightly, capturing Azzi’s lips in a kiss, their breaths mingling as Azzi came undone under Paige.

As Paige hovered over Azzi, she trailed slow, lingering kisses over her chest and neck, her lips barely grazing the heated skin as Azzi calmed herself down. Between each kiss, she murmured softly.

“I love you,” she whispered, pressing a kiss just below Azzi’s jaw. “You’re everything to me.”

Another kiss, slower this time, just above Azzi’s collarbone. “You’re so gorgeous… so perfect.”

Paige’s lips traced down to the center of Azzi’s chest as her fingers gently brushed over her sides. “I don’t tell you enough how much I appreciate you, how much I need you.”

She kissed just above Azzi’s heart, letting her lips linger as she whispered, “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I swear I’ll spend forever making sure you never doubt how much I love you baby.”

Azzi exhaled softly, her fingers threading into Paige’s damp hair, holding her close as Paige continued her slow worship.

After a long moment, Paige finally sat up, reaching for the towel at the edge of the bed, wiping her hand as she stood up. She moved to head toward the dresser to grab some boxers and a shirt. But as she turned, Azzi playfully reached out and smacked her butt.

Paige froze mid-step, narrowing her eyes as she turned to glare at Azzi, though the corners of her mouth twitched. “Really?”

Azzi smirked, leaning back against the headboard. “What? You walked away. That’s your fault.”

Paige rolled her eyes, shaking her head as she pulled on her boxers and shirt. “You’re a menace,” she mumbled.

Once dressed, she wandered back to the bed, crawling onto the mattress before settling herself between Azzi’s legs. She rested her head on Azzi’s thigh, her cheek pressed close to her stomach. Azzi let out a soft sigh, her hand going to Paige’s back, tracing slow patterns against the fabric of her shirt.

Paige hummed at the soothing motion, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment before opening again. She shifted slightly, tilting her head so she was closer to Azzi’s stomach. “Hey, little one,” she murmured.

Azzi smiled down at her, her fingers continuing their gentle path along Paige’s back.

“I don’t know if you can hear me yet, but just in case,” Paige said, her lips brushing against Azzi’s skin as she spoke, “you have the coolest mom ever. She’s strong, intelligent, and so kind. She’s a little bossy, but we let that slide because she’s also really pretty.”

Azzi laughed, her other hand reaching down to brush through Paige’s damp hair. “Bossy, huh?”

Paige grinned but didn’t look up. “You’re interrupting. I’m talking to my kid.”

Azzi rolled her eyes playfully but said nothing, letting Paige continue.

“I’m gonna make sure you get spoiled, but don’t tell her I said that. She says I have to say no to you sometimes,” Paige whispered conspiratorially, glancing up at Azzi with a smirk.

Paige shifted slightly, nuzzling closer to Azzi’s stomach as she continued to speak softly. “You’re going to be the best basketball player to ever walk the planet. No pressure, though, I promise,” she said with a smile.

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “What if she doesn’t want to play basketball?”

Paige scoffed, her head shifting up to look at Azzi. “What if she doesn’t want to play basketball?” she repeated incredulously, as if the thought was absurd. “You can’t have Paige Bueckers and Azzi Fudd as your moms and not play basketball. That’s illegal. Absolutely not. Non-negotiable.”

Azzi rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her laugh. “You’re ridiculous. What if she wants to do, I don’t know, art? Or music?”

Paige flopped her head back down dramatically. “Fine. She can paint murals or compose symphonies—after she drops a sufficient stateline in a game.”

Azzi shook her head, laughing softly. “You’re crazy.”

Paige smirked but didn’t let up. “And while we’re at it, no dating until you’re 30 baby.”

Azzi snorted. “Thirty? That’s a little extreme, don’t you think?”

“Nope,” Paige said firmly, resting her chin on Azzi’s thigh to look up at her. “You know how people can be. You’ve seen the DMs. Nope. Not happening. She’ll thank me later.”

Azzi chuckled, shaking her head. “Oh, so you’re the strict mom now?”

“Duh,” Paige said, grinning. “Fun but strict. You can have whatever you want, little one. Whatever makes you happy—except dating.” She pressed a kiss to Azzi’s stomach. “And basketball is mandatory.”

Azzi rolled her eyes again, but the smile on her face was huge. “You’re really giving her all the rules already?”

Paige leaned up just slightly, her expression softening as she rubbed her thumb along Azzi’s stomach. “I’m gonna love you more than almost anything, you know that?”

Azzi tilted her head, her smile quirking up into a smirk. “Almost?”

Paige hummed, brushing her lips against Azzi’s stomach before looking up at her. “Mmm, you’ll always come first.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Paige, you can’t put me before our child.”

“Yes, I can,” Paige replied firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. “You’re my wife.”

Azzi let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “And she’s going to be our child.”

Paige nuzzled against Azzi’s stomach, her voice dropping to a mumble as if she were sharing a secret with their unborn baby. “Statistics show children usually end up happier when their parents prioritize each other over anything because it creates a more stable environment for them.”

Azzi couldn’t help the laugh that came out of her. “Oh, really? And where’d you hear that?”

Paige glanced up with a small smirk. “I was reading on the plane. Wanted to make sure I got this parenting thing right.”

Azzi grinned down at her, shaking her head as her fingers gently tangled in Paige’s hair. “You’re so extra sometimes, you know that?”

Paige shrugged as she kissed Azzi’s stomach again. “Maybe, but you married me anyway. Which means you’re stuck with me—and my stable-environment parenting theories.”

Her gaze softened as she looked down at her wife, her heart full. “You’re gonna be such a great mom Paige” she said quietly.

Paige turned her head to look up at Azzi, her face lighting up with a smile. “Only because I have you.”

Azzi leaned down slowly, kissing Paige’s head. “We’ve got this.”

Paige nodded, resting her head back on Azzi’s thigh. “Yeah, we do.” They stayed like that for a while, wrapped in their quiet little moment, the world beyond their room fading into insignificance as Paige talked to Azzi’s stomach and Azzi started to read her book again.

…

It wasn’t until the middle of the night when something exciting happened again. Paige sound asleep, her body completely relaxed against Azzi’s. That was, until she felt her wife nudging her gently. Paige grumbled under her breath, pulling Azzi closer and burying her face in Azzi's chest.

“Baby,” Azzi whispered softly, her tone almost pleading.

Paige hummed, not bothering to lift her head. “Mmm?”

“I really really want some ice cream,” Azzi said.

Paige cracked one eye open, peeking up at Azzi through her lashes. When she saw the look on Azzi's face, she knew her wife wasn’t joking. “Ice cream tonight, hm?” she asked groggily, her voice laced with sleep.

Azzi nodded earnestly. “Mhm. I really want Cold Stone.”

Paige groaned softly, a half-laugh escaping her lips as she shifted onto her back. “You’re so lucky I love you,” she muttered, untangling herself from Azzi. She reached over to turn on the lamp, the soft glow illuminating her sleepy features as she blinked at the clock on her phone. 3:17 AM. Paige couldn’t help but laugh.

Azzi smiled up at her, unbothered by the time. “I don’t want it. Your daughter does,” she said with a grin.

“Righttt blame the other princess,” Paige said, shaking her head as she threw her legs over the side of the bed as she got up to put on some sweats and a hoodie.

Azzi watched her with a warm smile, her heart swelling as Paige pulled on her hoodie. When Paige came back to the bed to grab her phone, Azzi tugged lightly on the hem of her hoodie, pulling her down for a kiss.

Paige let herself melt into it for a moment, the warmth of Azzi’s lips erasing any lingering sleep. “I’ll be back,” she murmured softly as she straightened up.

“I love you, be safe please.” Azzi whispered, her fingers brushing Paige’s wrist as she let her go.

Paige smiled down at her, her expression filled with love. “I love you too, baby momma.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, but the chuckle that followed gave her away. “I am not a baby momma. I’m your wife.”

Paige grinned and shrugged, leaning down to kiss her one last time. Then, with a quiet laugh, she grabbed her keys and walked out of the room.

When Paige returned about 20 minutes later, ice cream in hand, she walked quietly up the stairs. As she entered the bedroom, she found Azzi sound asleep, her phone still loosely clutched in her hand. Paige noticed the screen was open to Life 360, showing her location the entire time.

Paige couldn’t help but laugh softly, shaking her head as she set the Cold Stone on the bedside table. Gently, she took Azzi’s phone from her hand, being careful not to wake her too abruptly.

Leaning down, Paige whispered close to her ear, “Baby, do you still want your ice cream?”

Azzi’s eyes fluttered open immediately at the mention, and she sat up almost on instinct, her drowsiness quickly giving way to excitement. “Mhm,” she mumbled.

Paige grinned, amused at her wife’s antics. “You were just knocked out two seconds ago,” she teased as she slid onto the bed next to her.

Azzi ignored the comment, leaning back against Paige’s chest as she got comfortable on her side. “Can you feed me?” she asked softly, tilting her head up to look at Paige with a small smile.

Paige rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the warmth in her expression. “You’re really milking this pregnancy thing, huh?” she teased, grabbing the ice cream and spoon from the table.

Azzi smirked, resting her hands on Paige’s thighs as Paige opened the spoon. “You offered to go get it, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Paige muttered, scooping some ice cream and holding the spoon to Azzi’s lips.

Azzi hummed happily as she took the bite, leaning further into Paige. “You’re the best wife ever,” she murmured, savoring the sweet treat.

Paige smirked, kissing the top of Azzi’s head. “I know. You’re lucky I love you... and your crazy 3 a.m. cravings.”

Azzi giggled, tilting her head back to glance up at Paige. “Our daughter appreciates it, too.”

Paige laughed again, shaking her head as she scooped another spoonful of ice cream. “Well, you two better remember this when she’s waking us up at 3 a.m. for something someday.”

Azzi smirked. “We both know you’re going to get up.”

Paige narrowed her eyes playfully, holding the spoon to Azzi’s lips. “No, I’m not.”

Azzi, opening her mouth for the spoonful of ice cream before looking up at Paige with a gleam in her eye. “Yes you are. You’re whipped.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, trying to act nonchalant. “No, I’m not.”

Azzi didn’t say anything more, just gave her a look.

Paige sighed dramatically, shaking her head. “I’m not whipped.”

Azzi just tilted her head, the smirk never leaving her face. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

Paige rolled her eyes, leaning back against the headboard.

Azzi chuckled softly before continuing. “We both know you’re going to get up for her when she’s up at 3 a.m., so don’t act like you’re not.”

Paige shot her a mock glare. “No, the hell I’m not. It’ll be your turn.”

Azzi just raised an eyebrow, her silent threat clear in the air.

Paige sighed again, shaking her head as she gave Azzi another spoonful of ice cream. “Fine. I’m whipped. I’ll get up in the middle of the night for our daughter. Happy now?”

Azzi grinned, satisfied with the unspoken victory giving her a soft kiss on the cheek. “Very.

The two of them stayed like that, Paige feeding Azzi spoonfuls of ice cream between quiet laughter and sleepy murmurs. But after a few minutes, Paige noticed Azzi hadn’t opened her mouth for the next bite. She glanced down and smiled, seeing her wife fast asleep.

Paige let out a quiet chuckle, carefully placing the ice cream and spoon on the bedside table before turning off the light. Slowly, she adjusted herself a little lower, mindful not to disturb Azzi, though she didn’t shift too much—Azzi was still laying sideways between her legs, using her as a pillow.

Paige exhaled as tiredness immediately hit her. She was a little uncomfortable at not being able to lay down fully but she didn’t care in the slightest. If this was what Azzi needed to sleep peacefully, she’d stay just like this all night. Her hand found its way to Azzi’s stomach, her thumb tracing slow circles as her eyes fluttered shut.