#once a Foundation girls always a Foundation girl | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nouearth · 1 year

Text

a sticky situation.

peter parker x male reader.

summary: peter has a major crush on his roommate: you. everything unravels when he walks in on you changing.

wc: 4.1k. genre: smut. warnings: holland!peter, sub!top peter, voyeur!peter, college!au, dry-humping, grinding, frotting, handjobs, kissing, peter's first time, dubcon, cumplay, peter and reader are shooters, characters are aged up!

a bite of the cold air shuddered your damp and nude body once you stepped out of the bathroom, cataloguing the tidiness of your shared bedroom after. your shoulders tensed when the heated air and cold draft clashed for an estate of your body. but by the way your muscles eased into the green towel around your waist, you’ve figured which side won the war. a warm cheer to victory buzzed in your head.

god, did i luck out with peter…

you found yourself repeating that observation often these days. it’s only been two months into the semester, but you’ve already concluded that peter was leagues better than your previous roommate. though, the bar was low—he was kind of a homophobe. that guy was a walking proof of evidence that opposites, in fact, do not attract.

on the other hand, peter had proven that similar interests and personalities were the foundation of beautiful, growing relationships: both platonically and romantically. still, relationships were never that black and white—a grey area. a theory that will forever be tested on, only for the outcome to come out vaguer than before, you’ve realized.

peter was like you: friendly, smart, awkward at times, funny to some. you and him basically have the same qualities of a dog, but there was more to it.

you both shared the same liking down to the genre of video games, the magic of fantasy novels, the cleanliness of a room, the color-coded organization of study notes, and more.

from there, the similar line of characteristics began to blur. whereas you’d prefer to learn from experience, peter liked playing by the book—sticking to it if he could. peter liked red, you liked blue. he favored savory snacks, you devoured them, but preferred sweet drinks.

opposites attract—the theory was once again, broad in your honor.

difference and similarities aside, you were lucky to have peter in your life. the bedroom was colder before you went to shower, but now it blossomed with a gentle heat.

he knew you hated the cold after a warm shower.

taking the other towel, you dried off the rest of your body while you checked your phone for notifications: a missed call from a friend and a few emails regarding construction around the building you had your classes in.

seriously? still? it’s been almost a year already…

normally, you wouldn’t have walked into the bedroom like this, baring skin and all. but peter went to get food because you both have become familiarized with what they served as food at parties.

note to self: you cannot get full off alcoholic beverages. you and peter both tried two parties ago, and it ended with you two sharing the toilet bowl, detoxing your insides of that liquid poison the entire night. the only enjoyment that resulted from that night was learning that peter was a drunk-crier, and you, a drunk-dancer. your friendship had only leveled up since.

you slid on your white briefs once you dried off before shuffling to the other side of the room, browsing through your shared closet aimlessly: he took the left side, you took the right. it was always dim at those parties, so a nice outfit would be wasted. also, you somehow became a magnet for other people’s misfortunes. it took hours to get rid of the smell of this one girl’s vomit—you threw it out in the end.

“no, no… it’s going to be cold later…” you cycled through your clothes again, sighing when nothing caught your eye. “guess i can wear this aga-“

“hey!” out of nowhere, peter’s voice sprung out from the side of the room, followed by a quiet thud, and you twisted your bare body towards the source out of fright.

“jesus, you scared me.” the closet door blocked your view of peter, and vice versa, but you presumed he was leaning against the frame—a habit you noted. “i didn’t even hear you come back.”

“sorry- what was i saying..? oh!” his shadow loomed between you and him, growing as he stepped closer to the closet. “did you want to eat now or-“

judging from the volume of his voice, you should’ve expected how close peter was when you shut the closet. “fuck!” you jumped back, eyes widening when he was practically chest to chest with you. “dude, you really gotta stop doing that.”

on a daily basis, you always looked up at him, but you never paid it much thought to how much taller he was.

“sorry! guess everyone’s a little antsy with the- oh.” he paused.

“what?” you curiously looked up at him, catching sight of his wandering gaze. you were quick enough to follow it, flickering between glimpses of your bare body and face several times like a tennis ball. somehow, you didn’t puzzle the pieces between his shock and your curiosity until he backed away, skittish in nature.

you were in your underwear. still in your underwear. the barrier was the captor of your embarrassment, heat rosed your cheeks as you stood frozen. and with it, the barrier was also your savior.

“oh- OH!” the size of your eyes matched his and upon realizing he’s been staring for far too long, peter cowered his gaze to the side, a gentlemanly hand blocking his sight as he further backed to the door frame, then blindly bumped his shoulder into the door. “i’m so sorry-“

“no, no! i should’ve knocked. i-“ he groaned out, pacifying the sting to his shoulder with his palm. “that was stupid of me, i’m gonna-“

that was another similarity that you both valued: privacy.

before you could reply, he scattered off. for a moment, you felt hot in the face, in the neck, even on your chest. but it would only take a few more seconds for your skin to cool, comforted by the fact that you could’ve shown more—you didn’t.

when peter scrambled out of the room, his gaze fixated on the ground, to the stripes of his socks as they shuffled to the kitchen.

but he never made it very far, because he was easily persuaded. either by his hormones, by the shape of your body, or by his closeted feelings about you. in the end, it didn’t matter because a tightening feeling conjured him back to his original spot—it was always going to be about you.

he was silent in his footsteps, treading backwards to the bedroom as his throat ran dry—heartbeat equally.

tonight. i should do it tonight. are my feelings that obvious? god, i hope not. wait, no- they are! they gotta be… who the fuck wipes marshmallow off of your roommate’s lips and calls them cute?!

peter does.

as his thoughts ran rampant, clouded his regularly murky mind, you were in his line of sight, perfectly captured in the middle of his gaze—now stilled—awe-strucked while he watched you change.

quick portraits of your thick thighs and calves came and went before they were completely masked by the slide of your shorts. then your stomach and chest; pliant, moist skin that layered over the contours of your body before being covered by a tee. he exhaled, then inhaled, smelling the scent of your shampoo and body wash, and he was delighted because you own that scent.

enraptured because only peter could have his senses triggered by you on a daily basis.

if peter could frame this moment, it would be an expensive endeavor that would sacrifice all the money in the world to find the most perfect materials that complemented your textured skin. your smooth body. your handsome face.

you. that was all he wanted.

peter had been trapped since the day he saw you unpacking your things into the dorm. sweaty from the sun, and you knew that, because you refused to shake hands with him until you insisted on washing up first. he wished you never did—your thighs looked better sweating under those shorts.

he’s had crushes before. one in middle school, three in high school. but they amounted to nothing, he never had the confidence. rather, he preferred isolating himself and admiring from afar. rejections had already been predicted, and he was used to the feeling of defeat. if someone were to accept his advances one day, then that would lead to a disruption of events—a catastrophic end to humanity—he joked.

you were different to peter. he loved how, for once, he didn’t have to be the one initiating conversation. he also loved how you didn’t use him for answers because instead, you would help him out with his assignments.

oh, is that professor warren’s class? I think i still have the textbook for her class… let me look.

even when it would only take five minutes to grab a drink down the street, you still invited him. not out of pity like everybody once did, but because he was your friend. parties have never been your thing, but you accompanied them with him because it made him feel better—to know someone.

maybe since he’s grown more mature since then, but now that he was off on his own, it was up to him to predict his future. it was an advice you gave him one night, and he’s kept that close to his heart since then. not the hate that had inflicted his mind, not his peers telling he wasn’t good enough for someone—but him.

in his imaginary world, peter could feel the walls shake when he was around you. the buildings would then fall apart, the earth would scorch civilians and planetary life with heat, and the thundering rain would only make it worse. it was a morbid image. yet, if it meant that you truly liked him, then…

aliens, come do your thing. we insist upon an invasion!

peter wanted you. point, blank, period. it wasn’t his preferred way to confess, but intense sentiments of like, love, lust—all at the same time—ate him up on the inside, and he was scared of being devoid of feelings for you.

“i want… you,” peter muttered, and you jolted again, turning back around in case you misheard him. you were bewildered at the sight of him. once again, you didn’t hear his footsteps.

“what?” you shuffled nervously on your feet. the tension in the air was thick and hot now with the way he stared back at you, frightened yet assured.

“i want you.” there was credence in peter’s tone, and he neared to the door now.

your eyes narrowed into the deep abyss of peter’s eyes as you sat on the foot of your bed, putting on socks. somewhere in your endeavors, you found a flicker of that familiar joke. “ha. ha. very funny,” you muttered bitterly.

it haunted you. as soon as you came out, you were taunted by those same exact words by your ‘friends,’ by your previous roommate. what made you different from them became a simple reason to cease empathy and kindness, and you were baffled that this was happening again.

maybe peter was like the others after all.

you avoided peter’s gaze in favor of the floor, the legs of your desk, your rug—anywhere but him—and you could feel the color drain out of your face, out of this room—deja vu. “look, i know it’s funny to you because i like guys and for whatever reason, straight guys like to flirt with gay men to get a reaction out of us,”

the rug cushioned the weight of a familiar pair of feet, and you looked up, a great frown etched in your face when your eyes met peter’s. he towered over you, bewildered. “but it makes me uncomfortable. and it’s not funny to-“

he didn’t know what roused him. the pain in your voice made him want to apologize without any resort to excuses. the pout on your lips made him want to cradle your head, yet kiss you at the same time. the growing tent in his pants made him want to pin you to your bed, and simply ravish you.

it was all a blur.

his impulsive thoughts became a reality once he stole the remaining words left in your distress, and clumsily swallowed them with a kiss. you didn’t have time to process his lips on yours because you were then pushed onto your back, stilted and surprised, as peter applied his weight on top of yours—his broader build shadowed you in welfare.

“pete-“ you groaned into the hot, breathy kiss, and despite the light attempts to push him away, you were compelled to return the wet exchange. breathlessly, you repeated, “stop, this isn’t funny-“ he kissed you again. all this time, you could’ve had him, but you deluded yourself into thinking otherwise.

“i’m not laughing,” peter muttered, and his hips began moving into yours, aimlessly trying to alleviate the stiffness in his pants. “i want you.” his voice lowered—no longer a confession, but a demand. he rocked into you harder once he felt you throb under those tight short, and you slipped out a moan, memorizing the beat of peter that pulsated against you.

you remembered him being bashful when you two talked about your firsts. you weren’t completely inexperienced like he was, but you mentioned that it’s been a while since you’ve done anything remotely intimate. school was your focus, a relationship was your reward.

“peter,” you repeated again, he wasn’t listening. “peter.” he whispered a demand; to keep calling his name, and you couldn’t help but quietly chuckle at the cliché line often heard in soft porn.

then, you cupped your hands around his temples to pull him away. he gazed into you with ardent hunger, almost annoyed that you ruined the trail of kisses he began leaving on your neck. “did you drink without me? because if you did, then i don’t think we should-“

“i didn’t,” he sobered on the softness of your lips, and like a flip switch, he snapped out of his fictional world of you. “fuck- i’m so sorry, i didn’t even ask you if you wanted to- fuck, i even forgot to say that i like you.” he ranted to himself, beginning to pull himself away. “this was not how it was supposed to go.”

infatuation had expanded into something beyond your control, and your feelings for him ignited even more. a wick bursted into powerful flames, and it warmed your body knowing that you two shared the same sentiment.

before he completely peeled himself off your body, you pulled him down by the neck, then pressed your nose to his, grinning. “I like you too.” a peck to the tip of his nose, then the center of his lips. your onslaught of fleeting kisses to his skin drowned him, pacifying every muscle in his body until it became jelly, and also making it all the more easier to roll him under you.

“not exactly how i imagined my first date with you, but,” you straddled his lap, roaming your hands around peter’s chest, an asset of his you’ve frequently daydreamed about. “you sure?”

the applied pressures to your waist, then bottom should’ve been a definite measure of his answer, but he smiled up at you, guiding a steady pace of your hips to his groin. he was easily distracted, suddenly cascading his other palm up your shirt then down to finally feel the bare skin he had spent long showers jerking off to. fantasies had now been served onto a platter before him, and peter planned on devouring you, piece by piece. “please.”

“must have had a lot on your mind if you couldn’t even confess to me.” it was unusual to see him like this—absolutely enthralled by your presence, high off of it. aching for more of you with the way he pushed his groin into you. “how long have you been thinking about this?” being unusual always had negative connotations to it.

you pressed into him harder, rubbing at his print with gallant grinds. not in this moment.

he moaned, “far too long…” then fumbled with the waistband of your shorts before doing the same with the zipper. “you’ve been driving me crazy, especially these days.” it was a simple task, a daily labor that peter was great at, but his hands shook when his finger met metal. you chuckled, and placed a comforting hand to his cheek, stroking the soft skin with the amplest caress.

take your time. i’m not going anywhere.

“mind sharing what you thought about then?” the only time you peel yourself away from peter’s groin was to help him slide your shorts off, then his jeans. peter lifted his hips, and you two were joined together again. aching together. “just curious.” you joked by pulsating your bulge, and he shyly laughed when he saw the restrictive twitch.

felt it.

“well... where do i start?” peter’s warm hand rested on your inner thigh, dangerously close to your erection while delicately exploring your soft skin. “there’s been so many times where i just wanted to…” he was too ashamed to finish his sentence, looking away.

“wanted to…?” your body arced over his, placing a persuading kiss to his cheek, then neck. “what was it?” they lingered, sunk deep into his skin with the utmost affection, and he left the deepest, pleasurable sighs as if you withdrew it from him. you commenced his dilemma. “tell me what you thought when you first saw me. saw that i was your roommate.”

“i...” peter began, and you could tell his nerves got the best of him, so you rocked into him again, begged with your hips. the position made it easier to feel all of him, press into his warmth more, and you couldn’t stop. wouldn’t. “i didn’t know what to feel. i was happy, that i had someone as kind as you…” you gleefully hummed, agreeing as you continued leaving kisses to his neck.

“then i was nervous, because you were so… cute. handsome. beautiful.” he moaned when you began to grind in slow, deep strides. your bulges squeezed and pushed one another, peter did the same, growing impossibly bigger against you. “but when i saw you in those shorts, sweating because move-in day was always on a hot day…”

“yeah?” you beckoned him to finish his sentence because you were closing your eyes now, remembering that very moment because you felt the same. the way peter’s chest, his muscles, were broad and stunning under his own layer of sweat, under his loose shirt, under that naivety that you would never have dreamed to think of him as such a…

“i just wanted to fuck you.”

pervert.

the shy smile he gave you messed with your perception of him. clearly, you’ve underestimated him all this time, and you kissed him again. “so, you only thought about pleasuring yourself.”

he quickly broke the kiss to defend himself. “wait, no! t-that’s not what i meant.”

“peter, relax.” your laugh calmly settled into a comforting smile, and you blindly reached down to his thick print, feeling and squeezing at whatever you can because you were desperate to explore him. “i’m joking.” his chest rose.

for the remainder of time, you spent it stroking peter through his underwear. dryly to his frustration, but he never told you because he wanted to experience you in every way. his lips never left yours, only parted to moan into your mouth when you shoved your hand into his briefs to sate your desire to feel him bare.

peter was big in your small hand. the weight felt suffocating to your palm when you grabbed ahold of his sack, fondling his balls, then stroking his cock again, and you were intoxicated in the way he melted under you, looked into you, begged for you to go faster.

you did. who wouldn’t when he gazed at you with the most puppy-like eyes?

he had complete control of you now, because every action, every stroke, from then on had been a journey to his personal paradise. you didn’t care that you were left abandoned, that you were aching harder than he was. watching him was more than adequate.

both pairs of briefs and shirts have been tossed to the side now, and you maintained your straddle. it was riveting to watch how much bigger peter was when you took both of your cocks together and stroked. he practically enveloped you with the weight of his length, the girth of his shaft, and you wallowed in the fact that he was incredibly bashful about it.

peter’s hand never left your body. he charmed you by his neediness. it was clumsy in execution, but he always squeezed a moan out of you with he felt your ass, your chest, your nipples, your thighs. “fuck, pete.”

everything about you was beautiful, incredibly more so when you caved into him as he dealt kisses to your bare skin and took his own turn at jerking the both of you off.

he was eager. delirious. hard, stiffening hard, against you, and you felt every vein pulsate the harder— the faster—he squeezed and stroked. you leaned back, hands planted to the mattress beneath you, then maneuvered your hips to the rhythm of his fist. you found a pace while peter kept you steady, and fucked into his fist, against his wet cock, sliming your dripping pre-cum together with the utmost fervor.

“wait, (m/n),” he hiccuped, and his hold on you tightened, nails dug into your left waist but you ignored his plea, fucking steadily into his fist. “stop, i’m going to-“ they fell on deaf ears, and mouth agape, peter watched you with incredulity. you can feel his body flex, your balls smushed to his when you grinned up, your pre-cum sticking to his, his to yours, like a sick web. “s-stop, oh god.”

and peter unraveled before you with a guttural moan, finishing the rest of his plea with a blasting of thick and creamy ropes to his chest, like a cannon. the force was strong enough to have a few shots land on his face, then his hair, and then somewhere above because peter was a big shooter—a strong one, you’d passionately testify. “f-fuck, i didn’t mean to cum so-“

“holy shit.” you watched peter in all his glory, then in his embarrassment, while stilted on his lap and sweating, not taking notice of the delay of your climax because it crept up on you quick. a rocket broke the cloud in your thoughts with a boom, and you spilled all over him, shooting like fireworks. “shit!”

peter was your canvas, and it was your duty to paint him. debris of sex splattered everywhere, because you somehow found the strength to continue fucking yourself into the cream of fist, unloading and unloading onto him until you were dry, heaving and dripping.

“fuck- I didn’t mean to ruin your sheets-” he mumbled, a blush stained his cheeks, and you joined in the warmth with a kiss, panting.

“where’s the fun in all of this if you aren’t going to stain at least one thing.” your brows raised at the wet stain on the wall above peter’s head, right below your wall-shelf, and peter’s gazed followed.

he groaned, distressed by the evident he made. “fuck, sorry…” his bashfulness only endeared you even more.

“it’s okay,” you hopped off his lap, stretching your arms into the air. “i’ll clean you up.”

“okay,” peter lay still, his hand cautiously held over his stomach to catch the drips of his cum and yours. it was fascinating to watch the mixture flow together, strands of it melding and un-webbing as he played with the sticky residue. it was the scientist in him. “my towel is on the- fuck-“

without a beat, you took his dripping flaccid cock into your mouth, sucking off any remnants of spunk. an unfamiliar taste you weren’t used to, bitter and salty. it wasn’t until you noticed how peter’s eyes glazed over you, half-lidded because he was in heaven now, that you found the taste of him delectable. peter’s caution for staining your bed sheets was disregarded, because he knew you’d clean the rest of him off.

after you pulled away with a soft pop, he traced your wet lips with the cum on his fingers, then his knuckles, before he pushed one by one into your mouth. one finger at first, then two, then three, you moaned erotically around his digits as peter pumped, marveling in the eagerness of your mouth. he slowly pushed more cum into your mouth. the creamy residue gathered at the corner of your mouth at first but he made sure to scoop it back in, and continued doing so until he was polished clean.

nothing was wasted.

the taste of you and him spread in the warmth of your tongue, and you have never felt more intoxicated.

to peter, you have never looked more beautiful.

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. andif you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x male reader #peter parker x you #peter parker smut #nou.fics

4K notes · View notes

amethystwrytes · 1 month

Text

Of Course, Professor

Pairing: Law Professor!Lee Know x Female Reader

Genre: Smut. Romantic-ish. Basically just porn with a hint of plot tossed in so I don’t just keyboard smash sex stuff on the page and feel bad about myself. 18+.

Summary: The law professor everyone is scared of generously offers to help you with your school work.

Warnings: There is explicit language. There is explicit sex (oral, penetration, teasing, edging, cumshot). There is a Professor/Student relationship, and IRL I do think that’s super inappropriate BUT this isn’t real life and I promise everything is very consensual, there’s no like “give me sex and you’ll get an A” kinda stuff, so, it’s all very much in my own personal scope of comfort. I wouldn’t write anything I felt was yucky. If any of that rubs you the wrong way though, that’s totally fine, and this one isn’t for you which is completely okay.

A/N: So, once upon a time in my undergrad years I was determined to be a lawyer. For a solid academic year I changed my major to Paralegal Studies because I figured that would be a perfect foundation for law school (smart, right?). Except like, three months in I was miserable and hated everything about it and realized that it absolutely couldn’t be me. I ended up having a similar discussion with my academic advisor/professor - except I didn’t end up fucking them - not that professor anyway (kidding). I always wanted to write a story about that awful year, and now I have - kinda…sort of. With a twist of delicious Lee Know and forbidden love. Yum.

“Can you stop please?”

You look at the girl sitting next to you in class. Her name completely escapes you but her eyes are burning lasers at the pen you’ve been clicking nervously in your hands.

“...Sorry…”

You apologize and gently set the pen down on your desk. Professor Lee is taking his sweet time passing back the most recent term papers and you dig your nails into your palm in anticipation of your grade.

To say you’re struggling in his Civil Procedures course is an understatement. In fact, you don’t seem to be doing well in any of the classes you’re taking this semester. The voices of your parents condescendingly telling you “Law School isn’t for everyone and that’s okay,” sound like they’re playing on repeat in an echo chamber.

If you bomb this paper you’re out. You stayed up almost all night last night going over the pros and cons of dropping out. You went back and forth so long fighting with yourself that you fell asleep thinking about it, and when you woke up the only thing you could think of was letting the universe give you a sign.

You had worked on your term paper for weeks, carefully piecing it together, you spent so much time in the library that you now know the TA who works at the help desk on a first name basis. So if you flunk it, there’s your magical sign.

“Ms. ___,” Professor Lee sets your paper face down on the desk - bad sign. He leans down just a tad, “Why don’t we meet in my office after class?” - even worse.

“Yes, Professor,” you nod. You think about not even flipping the stapled monstrosity over, but curiosity gets the better of you.

There it is, a painful 55% staring back at you in thick, blood-red marker. You spare yourself the trouble of pouring over the thinner red notes made in the margins of every page. You can’t help the tears of frustration that pool in your eyes.

“Everyone enjoy your break and the time spent with your families, when we return we’ll begin our discussions on Summary Judgement, so please make sure you complete the reading outlined in the syllabus before we see each other again. Dismissed,” Mr. Lee nods and the ruckus of chairs against linoleum and exasperation fill the room.

Mr. Lee’s office is four floors above the classroom, so you have a few minutes to spare - which you spend in the restroom crying, drying your eyes, then crying again.

You’re dropping out of Law School. All that work, all that trying, all those late nights - and don’t even start on the amount of money spent on coffee and tuition and fucking textbooks and…you start sobbing again.

“How did you do?” Seungmin asks when you emerge from the ladies room, his face immediately contorts into a painful frown at your red, puffy face, “That bad huh?”

“I can’t really talk Seungmin,” you take a deep breath, “I’ve got to go meet Lee in his office before his next class begins.”

“Fuck,” Seungmin frowns even more, “That man scares the shit out of me.”

“Thanks,” you say, “That’s helpful.”

“Sorry. We’re all heading to the Coffee House before everyone starts driving home for the break, do you want to come? After your meeting of course,” he asks.

“Not today,” you shake your head, “but thank you for asking.”

He gives you a sympathetic look and your shoulder a tiny squeeze.

You stand outside Professor Lees office for a few moments, gathering yourself. Professor Lee makes everyone nervous. He’s a hard instructor, emotionless sometimes, so direct it’s painful, and it doesn’t help anyone that he’s also devastatingly attractive. He’s a giant walking slab of intimidation.

You softly knock on the door and he looks up at you from over his glasses as he types something.

“Ah, Ms. ___, there you are. Come, sit down,” he instructs and you slide through the doorframe and slouch in an old green armchair across from his desk.

“Just give me one second,” he says slowly as he continues typing, “alright.”

“I’m sorry sir, for the term paper, I should have done better,” you offer up, electing to go ahead and fall on your own sword.

“There’s no need for apologies Ms. ___, a waste of time in this kind of situation. I would like to speak to you about your grades this semester though. After I graded your term paper, I reached out to some of my colleagues - some of your other professors - and they all had similar reports to give me, can we talk about that?”

You sigh, fanning out your fingers over your thighs, “Please, Professor, you mentioned a moment ago about time wasters - and I don’t want to waste anymore of your time - I’ve decided to drop out of law school.”

The defeat you feel just saying the words out loud to someone is enough to bring tears back, but you fight them off. You will not cry in Professor Lee Minhos office. Absolutely not.

Professor Lee purses his lips and nods, “I think that’s probably for the best.”

Your jaw drops, “Aren’t you supposed to encourage me to do the opposite? To try harder or something?”

“Miss ___, I fear if you tried any harder your hair might burn out from the roots,” he smiles and if you weren’t so shocked, you’d laugh at the first joke you’ve ever heard him utter.

Before you can think of something to say, he produces a file folder from his drawers and smacks it on the table making you jump.

“These are all the papers you’ve written for my class so far this semester. Your papers intrigue me Miss ___.”

Intrigue? That’s a funny word to use for ‘disgusted and disappointed beyond imagination.’

“But you-,” you begin to point out that the highest grade he’s ever given you on a paper was a 68%. Far from intriguing.

“But…as legal writing? They’re all absolute trash,” he tells you. “What intrigues me about them is the way you write, it’s quite good, every time I read one I feel like I’m in the room with a friend who’s trying to sort of explain law to me, the problem is you just don’t think, rationalize, or talk like a lawyer. I noticed in your transcript that your undergraduate degree was in education, and you had a 4.0 GPA. I can’t help but wonder, Miss ___, what career are you looking for?”

“A…a lawyer,” you say in a quiet voice, staring at a knick on his desk.

He looks skeptical as he leans back in his chair, “Why?”

“Because…” oh fuck it all, you may as well just say it, “because my father, my mother, and my older brother are all lawyers, who went here.”

“I see, so one could deduce that you wanted to be a lawyer because they wanted you to be one, they expected it of you?” he concludes.

You smile comically, the truth is much more pathetic.

“No, actually, they all told me I couldn’t do it. They told me I wasn’t smart enough, sharp enough, bold enough. I wanted to teach art to school children, but when that’s exactly what I elected to study, their comments started. I was just a private joke between the three of them, and I hated it, so I wanted to show them that I could be a lawyer.”

“You came here to study law out of stubborn spite?” he reiterates.

“Yes sir, I did,” you look at your lap and play with a rogue string from your sweater cuff.

“That’s quite impressive, Miss ___, to go through all that trouble, strife, and money to do something you have no interest in just to best your family.”

“Well when you say it like that I sound like a psycho,” you laugh timidly, trying to keep the sludge of humiliation down.

“I don’t think you’re a psycho, I think you’re a bright woman who wanted to show her family they were wrong, but just ended up making herself miserable,” his expression is soft, almost understanding. “However, as your professor, I don’t think I could recommend continuing with law school. This is your first year, with first year level studies, and you’re struggling this much all for something you don’t even want, it will only get more difficult from here.”

You nod, “You’re probably right sir,” you stand, “I should get to the admin office before they close for the break, I’m sorry for wasting your time,” you give him a respectful smile and grab your bag.

“Miss ___,” he motions for you to sit back down, “First of all, you’ve not wasted a single second of my time. Second, I don’t recommend dropping out right now, I think you should finish this semester at least.”

“You just said…”

“I said I don’t think you should continue with law school, and I don’t. However, we’re past the official mid-point of the semester, the cut off to withdraw for a full refund of tuition was last week, if you go now you’ll never get that money back.”

You plop back down in the chair, even more defeated, “I didn’t realize that,” you drag your hands down your face in frustration, “shit.”

Professor Lee chuckles, “I do have an alternative plan for you, if you’re willing to hear it and put in the work,” he offers.

You sit up straight, “Yes, of course sir.”

“I suggest you finish this semester, and I will help you - starting with rewriting your latest term paper. I’ll even try to assist you with some of your other courses, if you’d like. If we work diligently enough, you can finish this semester with an acceptable GPA, that keeps your academic record away from probation or academic expulsion,” he explains.

“You would do that?” you ask in disbelief.

“Well, of course, I am a professor after all. What sort would I be if I wasn’t willing to help my students?”

“I don’t know what to say Professor,” you smile, “that’s too generous.”

“It’s not a problem Miss ___. Now, let’s talk strategy, I assume you don’t plan on spending break with your family?” he guesses.

“No sir, they’re too busy anyway, I plan on staying in my apartment off campus during the break,” you answer.

“Splendid. This evening I have a night class to teach, but perhaps we could meet tomorrow? The library will be closed for break, but my students enjoy meeting up together at that coffee place downtown, uh, Coffee Shack or something,” he struggles.

“The Coffee House?” you help him and try to hold back a grin.

“Yes, would you like to meet there, say, 1PM tomorrow afternoon? We can go over some of your papers together and I’ll help you with your legal writing technique,” he asks.

“Yes, I’ll be there sir, I really can’t thank you enough, truly I appreciate this,” you tell him.

“I look forward to it, Miss ___.”

📖 ❤️

You adjust your backpack as you walk towards the Coffee House doors. You packed your laptop, all your text books, notes, and a few other things because you weren’t sure what Professor Lee would want to cover. The weight of it all is dragging you down and you have to hunch over a bit to balance it.

“My goodness, here, let me get that for you Miss ___,” Professor Lee greets you at the door, he seems to have already picked a table near the front and grabs your bag with a grunt. “Did you pack your entire house?” he teases.

“I didn’t know what you’d want me to bring, so I brought all my school things,” you laugh.

“Well, I suppose it won’t matter that the library is closed since you brought it with you,” he chuckles and you take the seat beside him.

“Should we start?” you open your laptop and power on.

“I thought perhaps you’d like a beverage?”

“Oh,” you look behind you at the register, “Yes, I suppose we should caffeinate,” you smile.

“What would you like?” He stands up and brings his wallet out.

“Oh please sir, let me pay, it’s the least I could do for all of your help,” you beg.

“Nonsense, as much as I love to argue Miss ___ I don’t see the point over a cup of coffee, what would you like? Are you hungry?”

“No, I ate lunch before coming, just a latte for me, small,” you concede, “and thank you…again.”

He smiles and departs from the table. You watch him in the line from where you sit. Seeing Professor Lee like this feels…different. In a less formal setting he’s almost approachable, and you’re starting to see things about him that you don’t in class. Like his generosity, and kindness, the man even has a sense of humor and you think of texting Seungmin about it but stop yourself. You want to keep this all a secret. You don’t want anyone knowing that you’re in such desperate need of assistance with your courses, but also you want to keep this side of Professor Lee to yourself.

You could think of worse ways to spend your Saturday afternoon than with an attractive law professor who’s willing to help you pass your classes. You wonder if he’s aware that all his students find him so hot, or if it’s something that’s never occurred to him. He doesn’t wear a ring on any of his fingers, which tells you he isn’t married, but that doesn’t mean he’s single. You can’t imagine that he’s not seeing anyone. In class he’s usually got on some academia aesthetic looking suit on, lots of tweeds and browns - today he wears a fitted pair of jeans, and a navy sweater with a white collared button up fashioned underneath, the sleeves pushed up his forearms. His jet black hair isn’t styled like it usually is in class, and hangs long and loose around his face. He looks like such a boyfriend…

You blush and go back to focusing on your laptop. What the hell was that? He’s your professor. Which is actually kind of enticing…

You press your lips together and roll your eyes at yourself. Stop with the intrusive sexual thoughts about Professor Lee - the man is trying to save your ass, not spank it - having inappropriate daydreams, no matter how justified they may be, is unacceptable.

“Here we go,” he comes back to the table and sets two mugs on the surface as he takes his seat again.

“Thanks,” you smile politely, trying not to look at him. If you don’t look at him, maybe you won’t think about how cute he is and instead focus on what you ought to be: your failing grades.

“So, let’s start with the main issue of your papers. Writing, in the legal sense, is cut and dry. It’s all about facts, findings, and nothing expressive or personal, which is where you seem to have the most trouble,” he begins and you try to absorb the information instead of noticing the way his lips look while sipping his coffee.

This endeavor may be harder for you than just pulling your grades up.

📖 ❤️

“I think that was a very productive first meeting,” he says optimistically as you start piling things back into your backpack.

“I think so too,” you nod. Productive, yes - but now the real work begins and you’ll have to go home and actually re-write the damned thing.

Professor Lee carries your backpack out the door, “Where’s your car?”

“Oh, it’s at home, I just live a few blocks away,” you point in the general direction of your apartment.

“You mean to tell me you carried this while walking from your house?” he holds the backpack with two hands for dramatics and you giggle.

“It’s not that terrible, how long has it been since you were carrying books around, Professor? Surely you remember the struggle,” you tease.

“I suppose it’s been a bit, here,” he reaches in his pocket and the SUV beside you beeps, he opens the passenger door, “I’ll drive you home so you don’t have to endure the struggle.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that sir,” you shake your head.

“It’s fine, it’s a small college town Miss ___, I can get literally anywhere in less than five minutes, especially since the majority of students are gone this week. Let me be chivalrous for you,” he smiles and you melt a little bit.

“Well, if you insist,” you look up at him as you slide into the passenger seat.

“I do,” he closes the door, then places your bag in the backseat before coming around to the drivers side.

“Are you always this difficult, Miss ___? Or are you just trying to be overly polite because I’m your professor?” he asks when you point him down the street towards your apartment.

“Difficult, sir?” you look at him wide-eyed.

“Mmhmm,” he nods, “You didn’t want me to buy your coffee, you nearly refused my ride home electing to carry a small library on your back while you walk,” a look of panicked concern washes over his face and he looks over at you, “This isn’t making you uncomfortable in any way is it? Being alone with me?”

“No! No, absolutely not,” you assure him, though you wager that your thoughts about him would certainly make him uncomfortable. “I’m just so incredibly grateful for your help, and you continue to go out of your way for me. It’s just never something I…” you stop yourself.

“Never something you what?” he presses.

You laugh awkwardly, “It’s just not ever something I expected from you, given your reputation with the other students.”

“Ah, yes,” he sucks his teeth, “My reputation of being an uptight jerk who doesn’t like anyone.”

“I would never use those words sir,” you tell him.

“You might not, but I have the internet too, I’ve seen the threads about me on social medias,” he shares.

“You read those?” your voice raises at least three octaves.

“Of course, I’m only human, curiosity gets the best of me from time to time.”

“I don’t participate in those conversations,” you shake your head, “I understand that it’s only natural for students to want to know about the personalities of their upcoming professors, but the bias that occurs in those threads is absurd.”

“I agree, though sometimes they can be helpful, to my ego at least,” he laughs.

“How so?” you wonder, because you don’t remember seeing anything about his classes online that would feed his ego.

“Some of my students may not like my personality, but they like looking at me,” he grins.

“Professor Lee! That’s scandalous,” you laugh and playfully smack his shoulder.

“What?” he laughs with you, “I’ve got to take something positive from it! 75% of those comments are atrocious, but I’m quite proud that I scored three hot peppers on the professor hotness scale.”

“Oh my God,” you cover your mouth, “I cannot believe I’m sitting in your car having this conversation,” you giggle.

“Is this your building?” he points.

“Yes, it is.”

He parks on the street and you take a deep breath when he exits the car. He knows his students think he’s hot, and now he knows that you know he knows. You pat yourself on the back for indicating you’ve never participated in those threads before the conversation took a turn towards hot peppers. Though you are 100% guilty of voting for his peppers.

He opens your door, hanging your backpack across his shoulder.

“I’ll walk this up for you,” he offers and you swallow hard.

“Sure,” you smile, your heart pounding out of your chest. Professor Lee Minho is about to see the inside of your apartment. You try to recall the state you left the place in. You remember doing your dishes before you left, but that’s about the only productive thing you can remember doing today.

You unlock your door and flip the lights on. Your art supplies are everywhere, and you have a bag of laundry by the door because you plan on hitting the laundromat this evening. In trying to move it out of the way you knock it over, a pair of your underwear spilling out onto the floor right at his feet as he walks through.

“Jesus,” you mutter, humiliated, as he looks down at you grabbing up the black lace thong and shoving it back into the bag.

To your utter relief, he says nothing about your undergarments. He sets your backpack down and looks around.

“Can I offer you anything to eat or drink?”

“Did you do all these?” he walks forward into the room towards the area you dry your paintings in. Canvas after canvas sits up against the wall, some completed, most unfinished.

“Oh, yes,” you say, walking up beside him, “This semester has been really frustrating for me, and painting helps.”

“Well, they’re beautiful, truly - you’re quite talented,” he looks down at you, “I can see why teaching art is a passion for you, you’ve certainly got quite a knack for it.”

“Thank you,” you say quietly.

“Teaching is very rewarding,” he adds, “I think that you should pursue your original dream Miss ___. You’ve clearly got a lot to offer the world,” he smiles down at you and you catch his gaze, a few quiet seconds pass as you look into his dark eyes.

“You could just call me by my first name, ___, if you wanted,” you say softly, “and um, thank you, for complimenting my art.”

“You’re very welcome, ___,” he responds, staring at you again. You watch his eyes flit down to your lips and your heart speeds up again. He suddenly clears his throat and looks back at the paintings, “I think we should make the most of the week, since classes aren’t meeting, this is a perfect time for you to catch up with your studies. Tomorrow is Sunday, which is the day I typically devote to catching up on grading, and I do have midterm grades to enter. Perhaps Monday?” he asks.

“Monday, yeah. That works, um, I have a shift at work on Monday morning, but I’ll be free after 3PM.”

“Perfect, we could meet at the Coffee House again, around 4:30?”

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

“Great,” he begins walking back to the door, “and, um, while we’re together - working on your coursework I mean - feel free to call me Minho. However when classes resume, it’s probably best to address me as Professor Lee.”

“Of course, Professor,” you agree. “Thank you, er…Minho…for everything today.”

“You’re most welcome,” he opens the door then pauses, turning his head slightly in your direction, “Nice panties, by the way. See you Monday!”

You stand there, speechless, staring at the closed door.

📖 ❤️

Monday afternoon you can’t help but notice that Professor Lee - Minho - sits closer to you at the table in the coffee shop as he helps you study for one of your other classes. You don’t blame him, truth be told, you spent over an hour after your shift at the bookstore getting ready, hoping he’d look at you the same way he did Saturday. You are, without a doubt, down bad. To impress him even further you’ve got a surprise for him.

“I re-wrote my term paper,” you blurt as the two of you are clearing up the table after studying.

“Already?” he looks at you.

“I worked on it all night Saturday, and most of the day on Sunday. Do you want me to email it to you?”

“Absolutely,” he smiles, “Good girl.”

Fuck off, he did not just say that. You bite down on your lip and your thighs press together as you bring up your student email. You attach the file and send it to him.

“It should be in your inbox the next time you check,” you say…like a good girl. Swoon.

“Great, um, I was wondering - and just tell me to shut up if you want to - but I was wondering if you had plans this evening?”

Your heart grows wings and begins to fucking fly.

“No,” you shake your head, “I have zero plans for a Monday evening in a town that’s practically shut down.”

He chuckles, “Right. So, would you want to join me for dinner maybe?”

You at least pretend to mull it over instead of just shouting YES in some unflattering, desperate tone.

“Where were you planning on eating?” you ask.

“There’s a really nice place I like, it’s about a twenty minute drive out of town, but the food is impressive, never had a bad dish there,” he shares.

“I am hungry,” you say, “I’d love to.”

“Good, shall we?”

📖 ❤️

“Are we celebrating anything special this evening?” the waiter asks as he sets two glasses of water down, “A first date? An anniversary perhaps?”

“No.”

Both of you answer him at the same time, and try to hold your laughter in when the poor man looks taken back.

“Okay,” he says, “Can I get you all anything to drink from our wine or cocktail menu?”

“I’ll have a glass of this pinot, chilled, please,” you point to the wine and the waiter writes it down.

“I’ll have the same,” Minho smiles.

“I’ll get those right out.”

Minho bites his lip and stares down at the tablecloth, you frown.

“Is everything alright?” you ask.

“Everything’s fine,” he says, “I’m just trying to remind myself that nothing inappropriate is happening here, I’m having dinner with one of my female students, but you are an adult and so am I and it’s fine.”

“I won’t be your student after this semester,” you point out, “I don’t know if that’s helpful or not though.”

“It is,” he nods, then tilts his head, “yet somehow I still feel like I’m misbehaving.”

“It’s only food, how is that misbehaving?”

“It’s not what I’m doing,” he bites his lip again and looks up at you, “It’s what I’m thinking.”

You take a sip of water, your body practically vibrating with curiosity, “What is it that you’re thinking, exactly?”

“Things that I shouldn’t be thinking about my student,” he says quietly.

“This isn’t high school, Professor, this isn’t even undergrad. Don’t be harsh on yourself, I’m sure whatever you’re thinking about isn’t a bad thing,” you point out, hoping you sound cool and collected and not like you’re ready for him to take you right on this table.

“So if I was thinking about fucking you after class in my office, across my desk, that wouldn’t be a bad thing?”

You nearly choke on your water. Before you can respond the waiter returns with your glasses of wine, not a moment too soon.

“I’ll let you guys look over the menu and come back in a few minutes.”

You clear your throat once the waiter is gone, “I think fucking me on your desk would probably be inappropriate,” you smile, “especially to your neighboring colleagues. I have quite a mouth on me,” you say, opening your menu.

You can feel him staring at you. “I’d very much like to hear it.”

“Maybe you will, I guess we’ll see,” you shrug.

The smile that spreads across his face is so dangerously mischievous, your clit throbs where you sit and you shift uncomfortably, only making it worse.

📖 ❤️

The sexual tension between the two of you could be cut with a knife as you make your way back to his car. You reach for the door handle, but he grabs your arm and spins you around, your back pushed up against the door.

His lips crash against yours, arms caging you in which is completely fine by you. You bury your fingers in his hair on either side of his head but he pulls away.

“I want it to be clear I have never had any kind of sexual relationship with a student, ever,” he says quickly, then his lips are against yours again.

“I believe you,” you manage between lips and tongues.

He pulls away again, “And the only reason I’m pursuing this is because I can’t fucking resist you and you’re not going to be my student again after this semester,” he adds, then more kissing.

“Got it,” you mumble into his mouth.

Again he pulls away, “Seriously, even if you don’t quit law school I can never have you in class again, okay?”

“Yes! Fuck that place, I’m done, and even if I wasn’t - I wouldn’t take you again, you’re an uptight jerk of a professor, remember?” you tease him, then desperately pull him back onto your lips.

He shoves you harder against the car, his knee coming between your legs and you press yourself down on his thigh. You moan softly into his mouth and his hand smacks the side of the car.

“Get in, fuck, please get in the fucking car.”

He scrambles around to the drivers side as you jump in.

“Your place or mine?” he asks, turning the ignition.

“Which is closer?” you ask, pulling the seat belt so hard and quick that it locks up.

“Uh…mine… mine I think.”

“Then there’s your answer,” you tell him.

Five minutes of him burning rubber down the highway is too long for you not to be touching him. You reach over and caress his thigh through his jeans, moving higher and higher until you find what you’re looking for in the darkness.

He hisses as you stroke and massage his hard length through the fabric.

You unbuckle your seat belt, “Are you as good a driver as you are a professor?”

“I…why?”

You scoot as far as you can and lean over, undoing the button and zipper of his jeans, sliding your hand through the opening of his boxers until you feel the warm, velvety skin of his cock in your fist.

“Oh fuck…oh my fucking…” he pants, his knuckles turning stark white around the steering wheel.

You unbuckle his seatbelt as well and help him get it out of the way before pulling his cock from the confines of his jeans.

You stroke him a few times, then let a glob of spit drip from your lips onto him so you can continue stroking more comfortably.

“God…”

You take him in your mouth and suck, running your tongue over the tip. The way he’s nearly whimpering, eyes so wide on the road, delights you. You put your mouth on him again, taking him deep in your throat, taking turns stroking and licking.

“I’m going to cum,” he whispers hoarsely after several minutes, “I don’t have anything to…” he looks around frantically but you shake your head, popping your mouth off of him momentarily.

“I can take it,” you whisper, then suck him between your lips once more. You can feel the base of his cock twitch and brace yourself, spurts of hot cum follow seconds later and you take it all from him greedily, swallowing then wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Holy shit,” he says through clenched teeth. “That was so fucking hot.”

“Thank you,” you grin, pulling down the visor so you can fix yourself in the mirror. The “kiss proof” lipstick you wore today is evidently not “road head proof” and you clean up the edges of your mouth.

He reaches over and grabs your hand in his, squeezing and rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb while he speeds down the road.

📖 ❤️

The door to Minhos apartment isn’t even locked before he shoves you against it and presses his mouth to yours.

“I want to make you feel so fucking good,” he whispers, trailing kisses down your neck. He drops to his knees and unbuttons your pants, pulling them down your legs. You kick your shoes off so he can get the pants off completely.

He looks up at you and grins, tracing the lines of the black lace thong that toppled over at your apartment, “I was wishing very much that I’d get to see you in these,” he says, pressing his tongue against the tiny bit of cloth.

You gasp at the way his lips move, teasing and licking through the thin lace, “Are you really going to eat me out against the door?”

“Mmm,” he moans against your clit and your legs jerk, “Yes,” he says hooking his fingers in the strings and pulling the soaking wet cloth down your legs.

“No patience at all Professor, I’m shocked,” you tease.

“So… you can call me Minho,” he smiles, kissing and licking trails back up your legs, “but in class and when I’m fucking your pretty pussy feel free to use Professor.”

“Absolutely Professor Lee,” you rest your head against the door as his tongue wiggles between your slick. “Fuck!”

He finds your clit and wraps his lips around, gently sucking. You lay one of your thighs over his shoulder and try to steady yourself while he laps and sucks you off. You grab his hair with your fingers and move with him, fucking his face and listening to the delightful slurping, wet sounds erupting through the quiet room.

“Oh…just like that, right there,” you whine when he begins to softly lick the perfect spot, “fuckfuckfuck…yes!” you release his hair from your fist and hold yourself against the wall as your legs begin to quake, cunt throbbing in rhythmic spasms as he milks you with his lips.

“Oh my god,” you groan, trying to stand straight. He finally gets around to locking the door then picks you up, carrying you down a hallway. He pours you onto the bed and you watch as he strips himself of clothing, you follow suit, though half your outfit is in his foyer.

You lay back, bottom lip between your teeth as you watch him crawl over you, positioning himself between your legs.

“You’re sure this is okay?” he whispers, pressing his forehead against yours, the head of his cock leaking against your open cunt.

“Yes, fuck, yes I want you,” you assure him, nails digging into his shoulder. He makes a gruff noise deep in his throat and lines himself up with your opening. You wrap your legs around his waist, encouraging him to push into you and he does, slow and deep. You both moan into each other at the sensation of it.

Slowly he begins to move quicker, still deep, but urgently. The sound of skin against skin intoxicating. He sits up a bit, your hips coming with him and he grabs them, using you as an anchor to thrust into you.

“Minho…” his name comes out as a whisper, your eyes screwed shut. “So close…”

“No, no,” he tsks, slowing down and pulling himself out, pushing the head of his cock against your clit. “I’m not done with you yet.”

He slides his cock against you until you start squirming beneath him, your clit still sensitive from his front door excursions. “Please? Fuck…” you whine loudly.

“You want it?” he asks in a growl, stuffing himself inside you then pulling out again.

“Yes! Yes! Please!” you cry, your nails scraping against the sides of his legs.

“Are you sure baby?” he smirks, pushing into you and pulling out slowly several times. Your orgasm begins to build again and you meet his thrusts with your hips, chasing it. Until he pulls out again.

“What are you doing?” you groan, half laughing and out of your mind.

“Beg a little,” he urges, teasing your entrance with the tip of his cock but pulling away every time you try to push against it.

You snap your eyes open, the sight of him looking down at you makes you unhinged. “Please, Professor Lee, please let me cum,” you say it as sweetly and earnestly as you can muster.

His eyes practically roll back in his head as he lines up with you again and pushes in deep, his hands fly back to your hips and he drags you on and off his cock until your vision goes white with the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had.

“Sit up, please,” he begs breathlessly as he pulls away, stroking himself. You do as you’re told and watch as his lips part, his hand stills and shots of pearly strings shoot across your breasts.

“Hold on,” he says when he can move again, then disappears behind a door, emerging a few moments later with a warm damp hand towel. He kisses you deeply as he cleans his cum off your chest.

“That was so fucking good,” you whisper, taking his face in your hands.

“Yes,” he sighs, pulling you down beneath the blankets with him, “Yes it was.”

He holds you close to him, your eyes getting heavier, “I think my books are still in your car. We could go over the paper on tort law I bombed over breakfast tomorrow?”

He chuckles and nods, “It’s a date.”

📖 ❤️

You sit in Professor Lees classroom as he passes back the latest exam. Term is almost over and everyone seems to be reeling with nerves around you.

He slows beside your desk and lays your test down, “Much better, Miss ___, much better.”

Seungmin looks over at your test, “Hey! Not bad,” he smiles cheerfully.

“I’ve had a lot of help this semester,” you smile.

At the bottom of the last page you read the note of thin red ink,

See you at my place tonight?

The End

Endnote:

I am in my Lee Know slut era. I will not be taking questions about my worship of him at this time, thank you. As always, if you made it far enough to read this, please accept my virtual smooch.

Also as always this is unbeta’d bc that’s typically how I roll so it could be absolute trash but that’s okay bc we’re just having fun.

#skz fanfiction #Lee know fanfiction #skz smut #lee know smut #Lee Minho #skz romance #Lee know romance #Lee Know x reader #fanfiction #stray kids

709 notes · View notes

beedalee · 7 months

Text

Once upon a time, there was a duck....🦢👑🩰

July 2023. TMM might be my childhood love, but Princess Tutu might be my favorite magical girl series. I will always tell anyone to give it a watch. (subbed, I have no idea what the dubbed English sounds like. But you do you!) I've always wanted to write a big long gushing review about it but I'd probably want to to watch it again first, hehe....

It's been a long time since I did such a big illustration. I looked at this drawing for far too long and started to overthink everything. I’m really feeling how little foundation my color theory has since I never really properly learned it, so I had to get a lot of help from @dyemelikeasunset for this- bless their whole heart!!! 🥺❤️

I have made prints of this, but I still need to set up an online store. I'll let everyone know when it's available!

(Closeups under the cut)

#princess tutu #I adore this series #please give it a watch.#i highly prefer subs but you do you!#magical girl #magical girls #beedalee art

1K notes · View notes

wroteclassicaly · 4 days

Text

18+

Steve calling you from work, a low rasp curled around that dripping, honey hot tone of his. It slaps you in the belly, finding its home - warm and slick between your legs.

“I need your pussy.”

“Steve,” you make your arguing case, but you can’t deny how you’re already tightening your thighs together, how you’re staring past the living room book-shelve just thinking about it.

“Yeah, honey? Fuck, I’m stocking some tapes in the back. You wanna start touching yourself a little for me?” There’s a breaking pause, a few deep breaths that you can imagine him shrugging into, and then he’s speaking as if his mouth is covering the phone piece in a rather crude manner.

“On second thought, don’t touch yourself. I wanna be the first to feel how wet you’ve gotten.”

“You’re at work, Harrington.” You’re scolding, even unconvinced by how out of it you already sound. You can practically hear that smirk on the other end of the line.

“Lucky for me and you, I just went on my lunch hour.”

You know that you want to, you’re well aware that he needs you to. But it’s fun to play with him a little. “Do you even have a condom on you? Last I checked, you needed to make a drug store trip.”

He doesn’t bite the playful line, instead, he rides in on a mischievous one and delivers you a golden platter offer. You picture him right now, one hand on his hip, breathing heavily, tongue poking from the side of his mouth, one arm elongated to prop against the paneled wall. He speaks with molten precision, making you choke on a whine.

“Let me finger you for a little bit? Please? It’s what I’ve been thinking about all day. Just gotta touch you.” He can tell how shakily your breathing has gotten, images of that wet patch soaking your underwear begin to overtake him. He whines, throat muscles tightening as he tries to hold it back. Licking his lips, he continues. “Make you cum, kiss your pretty little neck. And when I get home, you can use me as your personal trampoline.”

“Oh, god. Steve, I —“

“ — You’ll see me in ten minutes?”

“Five. I’ll meet you in the storage closet.”

It took you approximately four minutes to drive from your home to Family Video, and twenty seconds to get out of your seatbelt and into the building. Steve was waiting to your right, immediately closing in behind you to flip the closed sign, not bothering with the door lock as he guided you with a massive palm to the storage closet. Once you were inside, he lifted you around the waist onto your tiptoes, always strong enough to make you feel as tiny waisted as his former flames. You aren’t a bigger girl, not with him, you are Steve Harrington’s girlfriend, you are a woman, no size in mind, and he can never seem to keep his hands off you. He’s already burrowing into your neck, helping you find purchase against the small table stand, his shoes scuffing across the cheap flooring below.

His cologne blends in with the delicious spice of his work day sweat, stains underneath his arms on his polo. You toss a hand around his neck to hold on, opening your legs as he works with precision to get your jeans and panties down around your knees. His palm glides along the plush over your overflowing belly, giving a soft rub, encouraging by your mouth when it finds his face and leaves wet kisses all across. His jeans are so tight he feels like he’s going to burst, heart in his throat, ready to explode with love confessions and declarations of worship. Everyday with you, like this, trusting and close, Steve didn’t realize sex could be like this — mutual admiration and pure love, built on years of friendship and trust.

He gets emotional half the time you’re both physical, always finding the foundation that brought you two here. He’s completely gone when you’re whispering, “touch me, please?”

Who is Steve to not oblige? He’s met with such a soaked result that he bucks into your mouth at his temple, apologizing. “You’re wetter than I thought you’d be. You sure you didn’t play with yourself already?”

“You know I didn’t.” It’s you whose mouth has found his jawline, spare hand wrapping around the tendons in his wrist, shivering, driving the pathway. You’re fogged, eyes wet with tears of want and raw desire. “Put your fingers in me. You said you wanted to make me cum, so do it, Steve.”

It’s a quick moving dynamic, mouths pressed, touching, only to part, but remaining pressed together seconds later, drunk on trembling breaths as he goes knuckle deep, and you’re already trying to bounce yourself on his hand, sopping wet noises echoing with panting breaths and heaving chests in the expanse of the space you’re in. He coaxes you to slow down, to feel him give you pleasure. But from the way he’s whining, you aren’t so sure he won’t come from this. And that’s what helps you open up to the second finger, elated into desperation. After a few kisses, he finds your throat to lavish with that hot mouth of his, making better than good on his promise.

415 notes · View notes

herrscherofinsanity · 20 days

Text

The Princess and Her Guard: Timeless

Princess y/n and her personal guard, Jimin, have always shared a special bond, nothing has ever been able to come between them.

Fluff.

Childhood friends to lovers

Karina (Yu Jimin) x fem!reader

Word Count: 4.8k

I was watching 'The Princess Diaries' and got this idea.

____________________

The palace gardens were a sight to behold in the summer, a vibrant display of color and life that drew the attention of every visitor. On one particularly warm afternoon, a young Jimin found herself exploring the lush greenery, her family's visit to the palace offering a rare opportunity to wander freely.

As she rounded a corner, she was met with an unexpected sight: a little girl, about her age, sitting in the middle of a flowerbed, covered head to toe in mud. Her hair was disheveled, and her dress, which had once been a pristine white, was now a canvas of dirt and grass stains.

Jimin's eyes widened in surprise. "Are you alright?" she asked, stepping closer.

The girl looked up, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "I'm fine," she declared proudly. "I was trying to catch a frog, but it got away."

Jimin couldn't help but smile at the girl's adventurous spirit. "Do you need help getting cleaned up?"

Before the girl could respond, a flustered retainer came rushing over. "Your Highness! What have you done?" The retainer's voice was a mix of exasperation and concern. "We must get you cleaned up immediately."

Jimin's eyes widened further as she realized the identity of the mud-covered girl. "Your Highness?" she echoed, a bit stunned.

The retainer gave her a quick glance before turning back to the blonde girl. "Princess y/n, you mustn't get yourself into such a state. Come along, let's get you back to your room."

y/n, however, seemed unperturbed by the retainer's scolding. She stood up, mud clinging to her dress, and turned to Jimin with a wide grin. "I'm y/n," she said, extending a dirty hand. "What's your name?"

Jimin hesitated for a moment, then took the offered hand. "I'm Jimin," she replied, a bit shyly.

As the retainer began fussing over y/n, Jimin stood awkwardly to the side, unsure of what to do. y/n, noticing her new friend's discomfort, waved the retainer away. "I want to play with Jimin," she announced. "We'll get cleaned up later."

The retainer looked scandalized. "But, Your Highness—"

y/n cut her off with a firm look. "Please leave us," she said with surprising authority for a child. "I'll come inside soon."

The retainer, realizing there was no arguing with the determined princess, sighed and reluctantly left the two girls alone.

Jimin, still processing the fact that she was in the presence of royalty, tried to curtsy. "It's an honor to meet you, Princess y/n," she said formally.

y/n rolled her eyes and pulled Jimin up from her curtsy. "None of that," she insisted. "You're my friend now. Call me y/n."

Jimin blinked, taken aback by the princess's insistence. "But... you're a princess," she said uncertainly.

y/n shrugged, wiping some mud off her cheek with the back of her hand. "So? Friends don't need to be formal. Besides, it's boring when everyone calls me 'Your Highness' all the time."

Jimin smiled, feeling a bit more at ease. "Okay, y/n."

The two girls spent the rest of the afternoon exploring the gardens together, laughing and talking as if they had known each other for years. y/n's adventurous nature and Jimin's steadying presence complemented each other perfectly, setting the foundation for a lifelong bond.

As the sun began to set, y/n finally allowed herself to be led back to her room to get cleaned up, Jimin walking beside her. The two girls parted ways reluctantly, promising to meet again the next day.

From that moment on, they were inseparable. y/n had found a true friend in Jimin, and Jimin had discovered that beneath the title and the royal trappings, y/n was just a girl who loved adventure and fun. It was the beginning of a relationship that would grow stronger with each passing year, much to the delight and amusement of the royal family.

-------

As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, Jimin's presence at the palace became a regular occurrence. Her parents, dedicated to their roles in protecting the royal family, often brought her along. This meant more opportunities for the young Jimin and Princess y/n to cross paths.

y/n, ever the bold and curious princess, found herself increasingly intrigued by the serious and focused Jimin. She would often seek out Jimin during her training breaks, peppering her with questions about her life, her training, and her family. Jimin, though initially reserved, couldn't help but be drawn to y/n's infectious enthusiasm.

One sunny afternoon, y/n found Jimin practicing her archery skills in a secluded part of the palace gardens. She watched from a distance as Jimin expertly hit target after target, her concentration unbroken.

"Wow, you're really good at that!" y/n called out, stepping into view.

Jimin turned, slightly startled but quickly composed herself. "Thank you, Princess y/n."

"Please, just call me y/n," the young princess insisted with a grin. "Can you teach me how to shoot an arrow like that?"

Jimin hesitated, glancing around to see if any adults were watching. "I'm not sure if that's allowed..."

y/n laughed and grabbed a bow from the rack. "Come on, Jimin. It’ll be fun! Besides, no one will know if you don't tell them."

Reluctantly, Jimin agreed and began to instruct y/n on the basics of archery. They spent the afternoon together, laughing and learning, with y/n showing a surprising amount of talent and determination.

As their friendship grew, so did their shared adventures. y/n would often drag Jimin along on her escapades, from exploring hidden corners of the palace to sneaking into the kitchens for midnight snacks. Jimin, though initially wary, found herself enjoying these moments of carefree fun. She admired y/n's boldness and began to open up, sharing stories of her own life and dreams.

One rainy day, as they sat in y/n's chambers, watching the raindrops race down the window, y/n turned to Jimin with a serious expression. "Jimin, do you ever get tired of all the training and responsibilities?"

Jimin looked thoughtful for a moment before replying, "Sometimes, but I know it's important. My family has always served the royal family. It's our duty."

y/n nodded, her eyes shining with a mix of admiration and determination. "I think it's amazing what you do, but I want you to know, you don't always have to be so serious. You can have fun too, you know?"

Jimin smiled, a rare and genuine smile that lit up her face. "I'll try, y/n. As long as you're around, I think I'll manage to have some fun."

-------

Ten-year-old y/n darted through the palace gardens, her hair catching the sunlight as she giggled. The gardens were her playground, a maze of flowers, hedges, and hidden nooks that she knew better than anyone. Today, she was playing a game of hide-and-seek with her best friend, Jimin, who was a year older but always indulged y/n's playful spirit.

Jimin, with her dark hair neatly tied back, was trying to find y/n. She moved with a quiet grace, her eyes scanning the foliage with a keen focus. y/n, hidden behind a large rosebush, peeked out and stifled a laugh. She watched as Jimin searched, a smile on her face.

Eventually, Jimin spotted a glimpse of perfectly adorned hair. She crept up quietly, then jumped out with a shout. "Got you!"

y/n squealed, jumping up from her hiding spot. "You always find me, Jimin!"

Jimin laughed, brushing dirt off y/n's dress. "That's because you always hide in the same places."

y/n pouted playfully. "Well, it's because they're my favorite spots."

Jimin smiled, her eyes softening. "I know." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a bunch of lilies she had picked earlier. "I got these for you. They're your favorite, right?"

y/n's eyes widened as she took the flowers, her heart doing a little flip. "You remembered..."

"Of course," Jimin said, looking a bit embarrassed but pleased. "I know everything about you."

y/n held the lilies close, her cheeks flushing. "Thank you, Jimin. They're beautiful."

They sat down on the grass, and y/n couldn't help but feel a strange warmth in her chest. She looked at Jimin, who was now lying back, staring up at the sky. The sunlight dappled through the leaves, casting soft shadows on Jimin's face.

In that moment, y/n felt a clarity she hadn't experienced before. It was more than just the friendship she had always known. It was something deeper, something that made her want to be near Jimin all the time, to share everything with her.

"Jimin," y/n said softly, still clutching the lilies. "Do you think we'll always be together?"

Jimin turned her head to look at y/n, her expression serious. "Of course, y/n. I'll always be here for you."

y/n's heart soared at those words. She leaned over and placed a light kiss on Jimin's cheek. "I hope so. Because I don't ever want to be without you."

Jimin blushed, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she smiled and took y/n's hand, squeezing it gently. "I promise."

They sat there, hand in hand, the garden around them buzzing with the sounds of nature. For y/n, this was the moment everything changed. The lilies in her hand were a symbol of something new and beautiful blooming in her heart.

As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the garden, y/n and Jimin knew that their bond was something special, something that would grow and strengthen with time.

-------

Fifteen-year-old Jimin stood in the palace library, her eyes scanning the shelves for a specific book y/n had mentioned wanting to read. The library was quiet, a sanctuary of knowledge and calm, much like Jimin herself. She found solace here, among the countless stories and histories.

y/n had recently developed a keen interest in the history of their kingdom, and Jimin, always eager to support her friend, often accompanied her to the library. Today was no different, though y/n was currently attending a lesson with her tutors. Jimin intended to surprise her with the book she had been searching for.

She finally located the book and pulled it from the shelf, a satisfied smile on her face. As she turned to leave, she nearly bumped into one of the palace maids, who was dusting the nearby shelves.

"Sorry, Yuna," Jimin said, stepping back.

Yuna, an older maid who had been with the palace for years, smiled warmly at Jimin. "No need to apologize, dear. Always busy looking after the young princess, aren't you?"

Jimin nodded, her cheeks flushing slightly. "I like to make sure she has everything she needs."

Yuna chuckled softly. "It's more than that, isn't it?"

Jimin looked at her, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

The maid's eyes twinkled with a knowing look. "I've seen the way you look at her. It's more than just duty."

Jimin's blush deepened, and she glanced away, clutching the book tighter. "I... I care about her a lot."

Yuna patted Jimin's shoulder. "It's alright, dear. Anyone can see how much you care for each other. Just make sure to be true to your feelings."

With those words, Yuna moved on, leaving Jimin standing there, her heart pounding. She knew Yuna was right. Over the years, her feelings for y/n had grown into something deeper, something she hadn't fully understood until recently.

Jimin took a deep breath and left the library, heading towards the courtyard where she knew y/n would be finishing her lesson. As she approached, she saw y/n seated under a large oak tree, her tutor speaking animatedly while y/n took notes.

When y/n looked up and saw Jimin approaching, her face lit up with a smile. "Jimin! Did you find the book?"

Jimin nodded, holding it up. "I did. I thought you might want to read it after your lesson."

y/n's smile widened, and she quickly thanked her tutor before rushing over to Jimin. "You're the best! I can't wait to read it."

Jimin handed her the book, their fingers brushing lightly. The simple touch sent a shiver down her spine, and she had to remind herself to stay composed. "I'm glad you like it."

y/n looked at her with those bright, expressive eyes, and Jimin felt her resolve weakening. She wanted to say so much, to tell y/n how she truly felt, but she hesitated, unsure if it was the right time.

"Hey," y/n said softly, stepping closer. "Are you okay? You seem a bit... distracted."

Jimin forced a smile, shaking her head. "I'm fine. Just happy to see you happy."

y/n's eyes searched Jimin's face, and for a moment, Jimin thought y/n might press her further. But then, y/n simply smiled and took Jimin's hand, leading her towards the garden. "Come on, let's find a nice spot to read together."

As they walked hand in hand, Jimin felt the warmth of y/n's touch and the comfort of her presence. She knew her feelings were growing stronger, and she hoped that, one day, she would find the courage to share them with y/n.

For now, she was content to be by y/n's side, cherishing the moments they shared and the bond that only seemed to deepen with time.

------

The throne room was imposing, its high ceilings and ornate decorations a testament to the kingdom's grandeur. Seventeen-year-old y/n strode confidently through the massive doors, her heart pounding with determination. She knew she had to act fast; Jimin's eighteenth birthday was approaching, and with it, the assignment of her permanent position within the royal guard.

King Alistair and Queen Eleanor sat on their thrones, discussing matters of state. They looked up as y/n approached, her expression resolute.

"Mother, Father, I need to speak with you," y/n said, her voice steady.

Alistair raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Of course, my dear. What is it?"

y/n took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts. "As you know, Jimin is turning eighteen soon, and she'll be assigned her permanent position as a guard. I... I want her to be my personal guard."

The queen exchanged a glance with the king, both intrigued by their daughter's request. "Go on, y/n," Eleanor encouraged.

"Sir Cedric is getting old, and I will need a new guard soon. Jimin has been by my side for as long as I can remember. She's loyal, skilled, and understands me better than anyone else. We've grown up together, and she knows how to keep me safe while also giving me the freedom I need."

Alistair leaned forward, his interest piqued. "And what makes you think Jimin wants this assignment?"

y/n's eyes sparkled with determination. "I know she does. She loves her duty, and she's always taken care of me. I can't imagine anyone else by my side. Please, Father, Mother, I can't lose her."

The king and queen exchanged a thoughtful look, considering their daughter's passionate plea. They had always admired Jimin's dedication and had seen the bond between the two girls grow over the years.

"Your request is well thought out, y/n," Eleanor said softly. "But this decision also affects Jimin. We need to ensure it's what she truly wants."

y/n nodded, her heart hopeful. "I understand. But I believe she'll say yes."

Later that day, Jimin was summoned to the training grounds by the highest-ranking knight, Sir Alden. She arrived, curious and a bit nervous, unsure of what to expect.

"Jimin, thank you for coming," Sir Alden began, his tone formal yet kind. "We have an important matter to discuss. Princess y/n has requested that you be assigned as her personal guard. This is a significant responsibility. Are you willing to accept this position?"

Jimin's heart skipped a beat. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. A life dedicated to protecting and being close to the girl she loved more than anything? It felt like a dream. Her mind raced with excitement and joy, but she maintained her composure.

"Yes, Sir Alden," Jimin replied, her voice filled with genuine gratitude. "It would be an honor to serve as Princess y/n's personal guard."

Sir Alden smiled, seeing the sincerity in Jimin's eyes. "Very well. The decision is made. Report to the princess immediately."

Jimin bowed deeply, her heart soaring. "Thank you, Sir Alden. I won't let you down."

Jimin made her way to y/n's chambers, her steps light with excitement. She knocked softly on the door, and when y/n opened it, her eyes lit up with joy.

"Jimin!" y/n exclaimed, pulling her into a hug. "Did they tell you?"

Jimin nodded, her smile wide. "Yes, they did. I'm officially your personal guard."

y/n's eyes shone with happiness and relief. "I knew they'd agree. I'm so glad, Jimin. I can't imagine anyone else by my side."

Jimin's heart swelled with love and devotion. "I'll always be here for you, my princess. I promise."

From that day forward, their bond grew even stronger. Jimin was not just y/n's guard but her confidante, her protector, and her closest friend. And for Jimin, being by y/n's side was more than a duty—it was a dream come true.

------

The day Jimin turned eighteen was marked by an official ceremony, where she was appointed as Princess y/n's personal guard. The palace courtyard was filled with the royal family, guards, and other dignitaries. y/n watched with bated breath as Jimin, dressed in her formal uniform, took her oath with unwavering dedication.

y/n beamed with pride as Jimin was officially recognized for her new role. Despite her professional exterior, Jimin felt a deep sense of happiness and fulfillment. This was the moment she had been training for her entire life, and to be assigned to y/n, her closest friend, made it even more special.

After the ceremony, y/n and Jimin found themselves in the privacy of y/n's chambers, away from the formalities and prying eyes.

y/n flopped onto her plush bed with a grin. "That was quite the ceremony, wasn't it?"

Jimin stood at attention, her demeanor still formal. "Yes, Your Highness."

y/n raised an eyebrow, her playful side emerging. "Why so formal, Jimin? You've been calling me 'princess' or 'Your Highness' all day."

Jimin straightened even more, if that was possible. "It's protocol, Princess y/n. As your personal guard, I must adhere to proper etiquette."

y/n rolled her eyes and sat up. "Oh, come on, Jimin. We've known each other since we were kids. Can't you drop the formalities, at least when we're alone?"

Jimin hesitated, clearly conflicted. "I have to follow the rules, y/n. It's my duty."

y/n's eyes sparkled with a mischievous idea. "Let me ask you this, Jimin. Do you have to follow orders given to you by me?"

Jimin nodded, her expression serious. "Yes, Princess. I must follow your orders."

A wide grin spread across y/n's face. "Then I order you to drop the formalities when it's just the two of us."

Jimin's eyes widened, and she hesitated, her professional training at odds with y/n's request. "But, y/n—"

y/n cut her off, her tone gentle but firm. "You can be formal when others are around if that's what makes you comfortable. But when it's just us? No formalities. Please, Jimin. I want you to be yourself with me."

Jimin took a deep breath, her resolve wavering. She knew better than to argue with y/n, especially when she had that determined look in her eyes. "Alright, y/n. I'll try."

y/n's face lit up with a triumphant smile. "That's more like it. Thank you, Jimin. It means a lot to me."

Jimin relaxed slightly, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Anything for you, y/n."

y/n reached out and squeezed Jimin's hand. "We're in this together, Jimin. Always."

------

The moon cast a gentle glow over the palace grounds, the stars twinkling in the clear night sky. Eighteen-year-old y/n and nineteen-year-old Jimin walked side by side, the cool night air filled with the sounds of crickets and rustling leaves. They had managed to sneak away from the palace, a skill they had honed over the years, and now found themselves by the tranquil lake.

Jimin, now officially y/n's personal guard, couldn't help but glance around, always alert even in the peaceful setting. y/n, however, was lost in her thoughts, her heart pounding with a mix of excitement and nervousness. She had been waiting for the right moment, and tonight felt like the perfect time.

They found a spot by the water, a place they had claimed as their own over the years. y/n sat down, patting the ground next to her. "Sit with me?"

Jimin nodded, her usual composed demeanor softened by the intimacy of the moment. She sat close to y/n, their shoulders brushing. "It's beautiful out here tonight."

y/n looked at her, the moonlight reflecting in her eyes. "Yeah, it is."

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, just enjoying each other's presence. y/n's mind raced, her heart swelling with emotions she could no longer keep bottled up. She took a deep breath, gathering her courage.

"Jimin," y/n began, her voice soft but steady. "There's something I need to tell you."

Jimin turned to her, concern and curiosity mingling in her gaze. "What is it, my princess?"

y/n bit her lip, her fingers nervously playing with the hem of her dress. "We've known each other for so long. You've always been by my side, through everything. And... and I've realized something important."

Jimin's brow furrowed slightly, her full attention on y/n. "Go on."

y/n took another deep breath, her heart racing. "Jimin, I love you. I don't just mean as a friend. I love you in a way that I can't even put into words. You mean everything to me, and I can't imagine my life without you."

Jimin's eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat. She had always sensed something deeper between them, but hearing y/n's confession made her heart skip a beat. "y/n, I..."

y/n continued, her voice filled with emotion. "I don't want anyone else, Jimin. I've loved you for so long, and I can't keep it to myself anymore. I needed you to know."

For a moment, Jimin was silent, her mind racing with a thousand thoughts. Then, she reached out, gently cupping y/n's face with her hand. "y/n, I've loved you too. For years. I just... I didn't know if you felt the same way. I was afraid of losing you."

y/n's eyes filled with tears of joy, and she leaned into Jimin's touch. "You'll never lose me, Jimin. We're meant to be together."

Jimin smiled, her own eyes glistening with tears. "I love you, y/n. More than anything."

They moved closer, their foreheads touching in a familiar gesture that had always grounded y/n. This time, it was different, charged with the weight of their confessions and the promise of a future together.

As they pulled back slightly, their eyes locked, and y/n whispered, "Kiss me."

Jimin didn't need any further encouragement. She closed the distance between them, their lips meeting in a tender, heartfelt kiss. It was a kiss that spoke of years of unspoken feelings, of love and devotion that had finally been acknowledged.

When they finally broke apart, both were breathless, but their hearts felt lighter than ever. They leaned against each other, gazing out at the moonlit lake, knowing that this moment was just the beginning of their new journey together.

In the stillness of the night, under the watchful eyes of the stars, y/n and Jimin found the courage to embrace their love, ready to face whatever the future held, as long as they were together.

____________________

Bonus:

y/n's eyes sparkled with mischief as she leaned closer to Jimin during the early evening. "Let's sneak out tonight," she whispered, her excitement palpable.

Jimin sighed, knowing full well she couldn't resist her princess's whims. "y/n, you know we could get in trouble for this," she said, trying to sound stern but failing to hide the fondness in her voice.

y/n pouted playfully. "But it'll be fun! We never get to have adventures anymore. Please, Jimin?"

With a resigned smile, Jimin nodded. "Alright, my princess. Midnight it is."

As the clock neared midnight, y/n tiptoed to her window, peering out to see Jimin already waiting below. She could see the worry on her guard's face even from a distance, which only made her grin wider.

She carefully opened the window and started to climb out. "Shhh, Jimin! You're going to wake everyone up with all that pacing," she teased.

Jimin glanced up, her expression a mix of concern and exasperation. "y/n, please be careful. If you fall..."

Just as y/n was about to respond, her foot slipped. She let out a small yelp as she lost her grip. Jimin immediately rushed to catch her. They both tumbled to the ground, y/n landing on top of Jimin.

For a moment, there was silence as they both processed what had just happened. Then, y/n burst into laughter, her giggles echoing through the night. Jimin, after ensuring y/n was unhurt, joined in, their laughter mingling together.

y/n sat up, still chuckling. "Well, that was unexpected. Are you okay, Jimin?"

Jimin smiled up at her, brushing a strand of hair from y/n's face. "I'm fine, as long as you're okay, my love."

y/n's heart fluttered at the endearment. She stood, pulling Jimin up with her. "Come on, let's go before someone hears us."

Hand in hand, they ran through the gardens, the cool night air brushing against their faces. y/n felt a rush of exhilaration, the thrill of the adventure mixed with the warmth of Jimin's hand in hers.

They wandered through the palace grounds, exploring the moonlit gardens and whispering secrets to each other. y/n felt alive, her worries and responsibilities melting away with each step.

As the night began to wane, Jimin gently tugged y/n back towards the palace. "We should head back before we're missed."

y/n pouted but nodded, knowing Jimin was right. They made their way back to y/n's room, Jimin helping her climb back in through the window.

Once inside, y/n turned to Jimin, her eyes softening. "Thank you for tonight, Jimin. I needed this."

Jimin smiled, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to y/n's forehead. "Anything for you, my princess. Sleep well."

As Jimin disappeared into the night, y/n settled into her bed, her heart full and her mind replaying the night's adventure. She knew that no matter what, as long as she had Jimin by her side, every moment would be perfect.

-------

Back at the palace, the royal family gathered for breakfast in the sunlit dining room. The morning light filtered through the tall windows, casting a warm glow over the table. y/n and Liz sat beside each other, with their parents, King Alistair and Queen Eleanor, at the head of the table. Jimin and Aeri were stationed nearby, ready to attend to their respective princesses if needed. The conversation was light and casual, a mix of laughter and updates about the day’s plans.

King Alistair cleared his throat, a sound that immediately drew everyone’s attention. “Something very amusing happened to me at the Yu Estate,” he began, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

Queen Eleanor, sensing the tone, leaned in with interest. “Oh? What happened, dear?”

The king glanced at Liz, who was sipping her drink. “I caught the crown princess sneaking out of her room.”

Liz choked on her drink, eyes widening in surprise. y/n giggled, thoroughly enjoying the moment, while Aeri tensed up, trying to remain composed. Even Jimin let out a quiet laugh, despite her best efforts.

Queen Eleanor’s eyes widened as she turned to her eldest daughter. “Is that true, Liz?” she asked, though the reactions around the table already gave her the answer.

Liz, cheeks burning, nodded slowly. “Yes, Mother.”

Queen Eleanor shook her head, a smile playing on her lips. “Well, at least this one didn’t fall off the balcony.”

y/n let out a loud gasp. “You know about that!?”

This time, it was Jimin’s turn to tense up. She looked at y/n with a mixture of amusement and mild panic.

King Alistair laughed heartily. “What surprises me the most is the fact that Jimin even allowed y/n to be near the balcony like that.”

Queen Eleanor added, “And I’m surprised everyone found out. y/n and Jimin are usually masters at sneaking out.”

All eyes turned to y/n and Jimin, waiting for an explanation. y/n took a deep breath, a sheepish smile on her face. “Well, nothing bad happened. I just slipped, and Jimin caught me.”

Jimin nodded in agreement. “It was a bit chaotic, but yes, I caught her.”

Queen Eleanor chuckled. “I suppose I should be grateful for that. But perhaps you two could avoid balconies in the future?”

y/n laughed, smiling at Jimin from across the room. “We’ll do our best, Mother.”

King Alistair shook his head, still amused. “Just try to be a little more careful next time. Both of you.”

Liz, finally recovering from her initial shock, looked at her younger sister with a mixture of exasperation and admiration. “You really do know how to keep things interesting, y/n.”

y/n winked at Liz. “Of course, big sister. Life is never dull with us around.”

The family continued their breakfast, the mood light and filled with laughter. Despite the playful chiding, there was an undeniable sense of love and understanding at the table, a testament to the bond that held them all together.

____________________

A/N: Hi! How are you guys doing? Honestly, this was supposed to be way longer; I was going to give princess Liz a bigger role along with Aeri as her guard, they were supossed to be an angstier version of y/n and Jimin... I might explore that some other time. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this one! If you have any requests feel free to send them, I read all of them and I'll get to them someday, I promise.

378 notes · View notes

lottiies · 2 months

Text

RESTORING NATURAL BEAUTY

ᡣ𐭩 Pure fluff!! Leon takes your makeup off for you

WC: 700+

NOTE: this is completely self indulgent because i do in fact love doing a full face of makeup it’s so fun (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈) um lowkey think the tags are pretty dead right now but it’s okay idm

MASTERLIST

Putting makeup on is always fun, but laziness sets in whenever the time to wash it all off arrives. You wish you could cover your ears and sing ‘la la la, I can’t hear you’ to the knowledge that sleeping with a full face was in fact harmful to your skin. But you couldn’t. The world is becoming more and more advanced but they still haven’t been able to create products that you can sleep with? What a joke.

You’re cuddling with Leon, smushing yourself against his chest, your dolled up face threatening to smudge foundation and powder all over his shirt.

“I’m so tired, Leon. I wanna go to sleep.”

“And what’s stopping you?”

“This.” You say in a grumpy tone, lifting your face and looking up at him through your false lashes.

“Ah. Don’t pout, I’ll take it off for you.” He smiled fondly at you, holding you as he stood up from the bed. Leon was well aware you didn’t want to get up, so he easily scooped you into his strong arms, carrying you over to the bathroom and setting you down on the closed lid of the toilet. You didn’t even have to move an inch or ask him to do anything. What a man.

Leon hadn’t known much about makeup removal prior to dating you, but he was pretty much an expert now. Micellar water, cleanser, face wash, and then tons of kisses to your face was the solution. He was smart, a quick learner, he was sure he even knew how to apply your makeup just the way you liked it at this point just by observing you. His hands were steady, they had to be in order for him to have a good aim when the world was in peril…surely doing your makeup wouldn’t be too difficult, right?

He washed his hands thoroughly then pat them before going over to you, the scent of soap lingered on his skin.

“Close your eyes, princess.” Once you did, he carefully took your falsies off. He always felt a bit uneasy at this step, what if he hurt you or accidentally pulled your actual lashes off? He’d never hear the end of it.

He put some micellar water onto a cotton pad. One of his hands held onto your jaw oh so gently, making you tilt your head back a bit. He couldn’t resist, leaning down momentarily to steal a kiss from your pouty lips, you were always so sulky when you were tired. But his sweet gesture made you smile.

“There’s my girl, you’re so pretty when you smile.”

“So I’m not pretty when I’m not smiling?”

“You’re cute when you’re sulking and pretty when you smile.”

“What about when I’m mad?”

“Adorable. Like…” He tried to come up with an example. “When a kitten tries to scratch at you but it’s too cute to do any damage.”

Silence followed, you couldn’t make a comeback so you just changed the topic instead. Typical.

“Would you ever let me do your eyeliner?” You asked, relishing the way he tilted your face side to side to ensure he was running the cotton pad over all areas of your face.

“Mm…” He hummed in thought, purposely taking a long time to answer. “Yeah, I would. Why? You wanna make me look all pretty like you?”

“You’re already really pretty, silly. I’ve always told you that you’d totally rock the eyeliner look.”

He would. Eye makeup would look amazing on him. Or maybe having that cute cupid’s bow of his be more pronounced with some lip liner. You secretly hoped he would never ask you to put foundation on him though, maybe you were being a bit hypocritical but you internally couldn’t help it! Leon was crafted with so many dreamy details. You were blessed enough to have the chance to see them up close and adore them. The faint set of wrinkles between his brows from the stress of his job that made him furrow his eyebrows all the time, all the little acne scars and skin imperfections he held. You’d be devastated if he hid them all. But the most he has asked is for you to use concealer on his eye-bags.

“Maybe tomorrow then, if you’re up for it?”

“Okay! Um, I might mess up a bit though…my hand gets all shaky.”

“That’s what this micellar water is for, isn’t it?”

He rubbed off all your makeup, admiring all your natural features that shone through. Leon had always been attracted to your talent of applying makeup, having watched you switch styles and improve over time. He always liked sitting with you as you did your makeup, you always acted like you were doing some type of YouTube tutorial and he found it so fucking cute. Like, he would smooch you over and over if he wouldn’t be putting your routine into jeopardy. The surge of affection that rushed through him when he laid eyes on your bare face was indescribable.

Gorgeous. Cute. Pretty. Beautiful. All of the above, he wished there was a word that combined all of those into one.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x fem reader #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy fluff #resident evil fluff

669 notes · View notes

feralthoughtdump · 10 months

Text

Let Me Wrap My Teeth Around The World

Warnings: minors DNI, small age gap (everyone is 18+), manipulation, love-bombing, possessiveness, social anxiety, the male gaze, financial exploitation, obsessive behavior, ownership, toxic dynamics, moral corruption, smut, virginity loss, coercion, dubcon, dark

Word Count: 4.1K

It’s been a while since Coriolanus found someone as the object of his affection. The last time was a few years ago, and it did no good for him. But this shy, sweet, beautiful Capitol girl was someone who could pose no risk to him and seemed to have wormed her way into the recesses of his mind.

She was the shy girl in one of his University classes. Rumors circulated about her wealth or lack thereof. She was some prodigy who earned her way into the school through merit rather than money, and it left an open inquiry as to who her parents were. He didn’t know what drew him in. The House of Snow had just regained a semblance of wealth and power, and associating with a girl like her could easily create cracks in the foundation.

She wasn’t wealthy enough to come from a district family who bought their way in, but she certainly wasn’t like the other students who took classes with her. Though she wasn’t wealthy, she wasn’t necessarily poor, at least not as poor as his family used to be, but he could recognize the signs of the consistent repair in her uniform, using the same stitches Tigris would use on his old clothing. It turns out she had come from a family of seamstresses and artists.

He also learned that she loved pretty things, not just spotting them but making them. Her apartment was always decorated with little knick-knacks and drawings that covered the walls. Coriolanus would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy spending time in her dingy apartment. It was small, run-down, nothing more than a studio with a bed, desk, kitchenette, and a heat pipe that screeches and clangs at the most ungodly hour. But he loves staring at how her brows furrow as she sketches or how she tucks her lower lip between her teeth in frustration. Despite being unable to help her work, she was always happy to have him around.

This leads him to her small apartment at least once a month with a new pair of pants that were a bit too long or one of his father’s old shirts

Even though he could afford to have his pants hemmed by a tailor or simply ask Tigris, he prefers going to her. After all, she’s become familiar with his preferred inseam length, and Tigris has become colder and colder towards him.

He always insists on paying her even if she refuses.

“We’re friends, Corio,” She said the first time. “You don’t have to pay me.”

“Just this once, let me take care of you.” He insisted, pressing the cash into the palm of her hand.

Just this once turned into every single time. Then, it became buying her meals and small gifts. He got her internships with other high-ranking game makers. Eventually, he convinced her that her old apartment was too small and worn down for a nice girl like her, and he moved her into a spare room in his apartment and turned the other into a studio. Then, he started taking her to parties and events she could never afford to go to, and he always made sure to buy her a dress even if she insisted that it would cost less if she could just make one herself.

When their fellow students would snicker at her, he’d slip poison into their drinks. Never enough to kill them, just to get them sick for a week or so.

Somehow, Coriolanus finds himself taking her under his wing, becoming a mentor to her in some type of way. She maintained that soft and sweet air about her, but with his help, she became someone her peers respected. Once, she was the girl who made other students in the University roll their eyes because she always tried too hard. Now, she was the girl who had connections and handed in exemplary work. She was the carefully created success story of a middle-class Capitol girl who climbed the ladder with hard work and determination. Now, she could spread her wings and fly, but only as far as he would allow.

With the arrival of winter comes the start of planning another year of games, and the Crane family was more than happy to host a commencement gala.

This time, he bought her a pretty red dress she eyed in a store window a few days ago.

The quiet gasp she lets out when he opens the box is music to his ears.

“It’s even more beautiful in person.” She whispers the fabric pooling in her hands like blood. “I can’t let you keep buying me things like this. I can’t take this.”

He fights the urge to roll his eyes. She always opposes, with her voice becoming soft, objections and promises to pay him back, tumbling from her lips. But that wasn’t what he cared about. He cared about how she presented herself. He got her internships and dragged her out of that shoebox of a studio apartment. She was a product of his hard work, and he wanted to show it off. “Think of it as a gift.” He smiles, gently lifting her chin to meet his eyes. “You’ve worked hard these past few months.”

“Corio…”

“Put it on; we have to leave in a few minutes.”

…

She’s stuck to his side whenever they attend these events. Her shy demeanor doesn’t do well in large crowds, and with an endless supply of expensive liquor, Coriolanus doesn’t want her wandering about alone.

Throughout the evening, she’s been good. Smiling, looking pretty. Saying hello to the people he introduces her to, holding onto his arm, and letting him know when she’s feeling overwhelmed so he can rub circles on her back.

People compliment her, telling her how beautiful she looks. Pride thumps against his chest. Of course, she looks beautiful. The dress he picked falls on her body like it was made for her. The red is beautiful against her skin, and the fabric drapes beautifully around her hips, showing off her elegant back.

Eventually, she breaks away from him, needing to use the restroom. But after a while, he realizes something isn't right without her beside him.

He worries when he can’t see her, and he finds himself rushing through small conversations and pushing past people to try and find her in a sea of people.

Eventually, he spots her staring at the city's vast expanse, leaning on the balcony's edge. She’s slowly nursing her third glass of champagne in one hand, and the other picks at the cuticles of her thumb.

That wasn’t a good sign.

“What’s wrong?” He inquires, approaching her with a hand on her back.

She jumps at his touch, but relief crosses her face when she sees him. The last of the champagne is quickly swallowed, and she passes the empty glass to an approaching waiter.

“Nothing, really. I’m okay.”

From the tension in her forehead, he can clearly tell that she isn’t okay. Though he knows she hates it when he pries, he still chooses to do so.

“You aren’t, so tell me what’s wrong.”

There’s a beat of silence, and she sighs.

“I feel out of place, Corio. I feel like I don’t belong here.”

“What do you mean? Of course, you belong here.”

“Everyone here is just so…” She looks down at her heels, trying to find the right words “I don’t know, I’m younger than everyone, and most of the people here have played a part in the games and all I’ve done is get coffee and print papers for them.”

Her lashes flutter as if blinking away tears, and he can’t have that. Not here.

“Hey,” he lifts her chin with his fingers and strokes her flushed cheek with his thumb. “Don’t get all tearful on me. You’re with me. I promise you, you belong here.”

From the frown curling on her lips, his words clearly aren’t working, so he shifts the conversation. “What do you dream of being? What do you want to do?”

She opens her mouth but hesitates.

“Promise you won’t think it’s stupid?”

“I promise.”

“I’d like to be a designer.” A small smile starts to cross her face. “A fashion designer with my own line and everything.”

He could see a future where everyone in the Capitol wore her designs. Or not everyone. She was too good for that. All of his hard work has been put into helping her rise alongside him. If she wanted to do something, she had to be the best.

“I think you would make a great designer.” Without a second thought, he presses a small kiss to her forehead. “I know you will. I’ve seen your work.”

A giggle falls from her lips, and affection blooms in his chest. Nowadays, he wonders if he could ever love someone. But love is so subjective. He had molded her into someone who would be fit to stand by him as he rose in the ranks. Isn’t that the closest thing there is to love?

…

“Here, let me help you.”

The champagne has loosened her up, causing her to stumble on her feet. She leans against him and laughs when his arm hooks under her knees to carry her past the front door.

“Such a gentleman.” She croons. “Always taking care of me.”

“It’s what I do best.”

He sets her down on the edge of his bed so he can bend down to undo her heels. Without much thinking, he gently kisses the inside of her ankle. His eyes gaze up at her, gauging her reaction, and she shyly tells him, “I really want to kiss you right now.”

It’s as if something in him shifts. Coriolanus always harbored an attraction to her. On multiple occasions, he would fuck his fist after their little “tailoring” appointments, thinking about her on her knees, his cock stuffed in her mouth. Ever since she moved in, he’d sneak glances through the crack of her door, catching glimpses of her in stages of undress. He’s never acted upon it. His ego certainly wouldn’t be able to take the rejection, but now that she’s asking him to kiss her with those soft lips and glittering doe eyes, he’s safe to act on his desires.

He surges forward, engulfing her in his hold. Hands cupping her face to keep her lips pressed against his. His teeth graze across her bottom lip,

She smells like vanilla and roses, igniting that deep-seated hunger inside him.

He has always hungered for power within the political spheres of Panem, but right now, his hunger is hyperfocused on her. To own her, to control her.

He wants her to answer every beck and call. If he were to say jump, she would ask, ‘How high?’ If he asked her to crawl to him, she’d drag her delicate knees across whatever surface she stood on. He wants her to belong to him—mind, body, and soul.

Their lips are locked together as her hands fumble to remove her dress. Sensing her struggle, he releases her face to help, undoing the ties around her neck. She carefully lets it fall off her body, letting the vibrant red silk pool around her feet.

“I’ve never done this before.” She murmurs against his lips. “I haven’t done anything past kissing.”

“Really?” He looks down at her and wants to coo in adoration when she shyly glances away. “No one’s ever touched you before?”

“Just… myself… and this one boy from the academy a few years ago but it was over our uniforms.” She hesitates, and he can feel his cock twitch in his pants. Coriolanus already owned most of her clothing, living space, and future career. It was all owed to him. But her virginity? He can truly make her his. His girl.

He crawls on top of her, caging her in his arms.

“I’ll be gentle. I promise.”

His fingers trace her skin, from the line of her neck past her collarbones, dipping under the white lace underwear that clings to her hips.

“These are pretty.” He flicks the rosette sewn to the center of the waistband. “Did you wear these for me?”

“Maybe. I made them myself.”

She lifts her hips, allowing him to slide them down her legs. They part, creating room for him to slot himself in between her knees. Her hands reach to remove his shirt, but he bats them away.

“Just relax. I’ll take care of you.”

As he unbuttons his shirt, he observes the way her chest rises and falls, how her lips are parted, and how her tongue darts out to lick at her lips in anticipation.

His fingers push past her lips, pressing down on her eager tongue, already swirling over them.

“Get them wet. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Her eyes close as she sucks on the digits. Saliva pools in her mouth, dripping past the corners of her lips.

They are released with a pop, and Coriolanus groans, the strain in his pants becoming unbearable.

Two of his wet fingers slide between her folds, teasing at her opening. A gasp slips past her parted lips at the feeling of his fingers pushing in. It was torturous how he managed to curl his fingers just right, eliciting a stifled whine from her lips. She pulls her hips away, overwhelmed by the stretch and the growing pressure inside of her. Though he knows she’s fingered herself before, his fingers must feel foreign, better than what she can do for herself.

He pushes a third inside of her, opening her up, and he can feel how she flexes around him. She wraps her fingers around his wrist, trying to pull his hand away, but he persists, continuing to curl his fingers against that spot inside of her.

“Don’t fight it.” He demands, pistoning his fingers. “I’m just trying to make you feel good.”

Her gasps and whines eventually turn into moans. She clenches around his fingers and bucks her hips forward as if her body is begging him for more.

“I think,” She arches her back, and her voice becomes gaspy as if fighting to fill her lungs with air. “I think I’m close.”

“Already?” He spits onto her clit and presses his thumb against it. Electricity surges through her body as he rubs it in slow circles. She watches him with parted lips and shaky breathing as he fuels her oncoming orgasm. “Oh, you’re making this too easy for me.”

Her head is thrown back, and a strangled moan falls from her lips—sticky arousal floods around his fingers, and her walls spasm around them.

“There you go.” He soothes, pressing kisses to her cheek. “That feels good, huh?”

She’s laid out on the comforter, chest heaving and skin flushed. Coriolanus grabs his stiff cock through his pants, trying to ease the growing tension. But he decides he can’t wait to give her a break.

Her ears perk up at the metallic clink of him undoing his belt.

“Corio, I- I don’t think-”

He shushes her with a kiss.

“It’s alright, you can take it. Yeah? Remember what I promised?”

“That you’d be gentle.”

“That’s right.” He kicks off his pants and frees his cock from the confines of his briefs. “I’ve always been good to you, haven’t I?”

She nods in agreement, eyes widening at the size of him.

He licks his lips as he presses the tip against her cunt, slowly easing his cock inside of her.

As he sheathes himself inside of her, he presses her thighs to her chest, forcing himself deeper into her warmth.

She lets out a sharp cry and grabs his waist, trying to push him back.

“You’re too big, Corio. I don’t think you’ll fit.”

He hurries to kiss away her complaints. To distract her from the pain. He couldn’t wait. He needed to feel her. He needed her. Whispering against her lips, he soothes her. “You’re okay. I’ll go slow. Yeah?”

Broken moans fall from her lips as he bottoms out. He groans in pleasure as her fingernails dig into his back, scrambling for some kind of purchase. She was so tight, so wet, and so warm, gripping onto him like a vice.

Very carefully, he rocks his hips back and forth, letting her adjust to him. The sounds she makes, combined with the slick squelch of her cunt are obscene. Even with his slow movements, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to last long.

He drops his lips to her neck, teeth grazing the fragile skin before biting down.

“Ah- please, don’t leave a mark.”

Disregarding her words, he sucks a slowly blooming bruise onto her neck. He doesn’t care if it’s dark. He wants people to see it and know who left it there.

Maybe he does love her, he thinks. He loves how she complements him, her sweetness dampening his harsher attributes. He loves her creativity, her ambition, and how she always hungers to better herself. She’s perfect. She could be more than just a designer. She could be influential, a figure in the history of Panem.

“I have an idea.” He hums against her neck, stilling his hips.

“Yeah?”

“I want you to be part of the games.”

“What do you mean?” She impatiently shifts her hips, trying to get him to move again.

“You can be a…” he pauses to think, looking into her blown-out pupils, “a stylist. You can design the tributes' looks for the opening ceremony and the interviews. Maybe we can implement uniforms for the actual games.”

She pulls back, but he keeps her locked in place, hands grabbing at the flesh of her hips. Her eyes no longer look glazed over with lust. Instead, there’s a flash of clarity within them.

“No.”

“What do you mean, no?”

“No, Corio.” Her voice is firm. She has her mind made up. “I won’t do it.”

His lust begins to mix with anger. She can’t deny him. Not now, not ever. Not after everything he has done for her.

His hand reaches for her chin, and she whimpers.

“Yes, you will because I’m not asking.”

“You can’t tell me what to do.” She struggles against his hold. “You don’t own me.”

“Don’t bite the hand that feeds you,” He snarls, fingers digging into her jaw. “I gave you this life, and I can easily take it away from you.”

“Let go of me, please.”

Earlier promises of being gentle are tossed away. She’s beginning to let out pained squeaks from the pressure on her cheeks, and the hand on her hip digs into the soft flesh, creating red divots close to drawing blood.

“Look at all that I have given you. All of your nice clothes and these fancy internships were because of me. Without me, you’d be freezing to death in that shed you used to live in.” He pulls his hips back and slams his cock back into her dripping cunt, eliciting a cry from her. “I made you who you are.” He cruelly bullies his cock into her, picking up his speed every time her hands weakly try to push him away. “All you have to do is be good for me, and I’ll give you whatever you want.” He forces her to look at him, to stare into her glassy eyes. “Are you going to be good?”

She doesn’t reply, or rather, she can’t. All she could do was strain against him with dark, mascara-stained tears rolling down her cheeks.

Those eyes that once gazed upon him with fondness are now filled with fear.

“Are you going to be good?” He punctuates his words with a hand to her throat, giving it a light squeeze. It’s enough pressure to establish a threat but not enough to take away her ability to breathe.

Her teary eyes blink, and she nods.

“Yes,” She whispers. “I’ll be good.”

“So,” He slows his movements and brings his lips to her ear, warm breath tickling her skin. “What do you say?

Once again, he circles her sensitive clit with his thumb.

She sobs, clenching around him, and he can tell that she’s close to cumming again.

“You’re not going to cum until you answer me.”

“Please, Corio, don’t make me decide. Not right now.”

“I want-” He groans, feeling himself falling close to the edge. “I need an answer.”

She sobs and tries to look away, but the hand on her face won’t let her.

“Please.”

His face moves closer to hers, her hot breath fanning his cheeks.

“I can feel you clenching around me, and I know you can’t hold it in. Give me an answer now.” More tears stream down her face, and she squeezes her eyes shut. “If you cum before giving me an answer, I’ll ruin this pretty cunt.”

There’s a second of silence, save for the sound of his skin slapping against hers before she nods.

“Yes,” she whispers.

“Yes, what?”

“I’ll do it.”

He quickens his pace, chasing after his own pleasure, and she all but screams.

The fire in his burns, ready to overtake him, but something isn’t right.

“Open your eyes.” He demands. “I want you to look at me when I fill you up.”

She blinks her eyes open, all wide and wet, and he’s unable to hold back. Tightening his hold on her, he forces his hips against her own, burying his cock to the hilt and releasing inside of her. She flutters around him, desperate gasps for air falling from her wanting mouth as she cums with him.

They stay in this position, both trying to catch their breath. Coriolanus is the first to pull away, rubbing her thighs to loosen the tired muscles.

She lays there, surrounded by his fluffy white sheets, saying nothing. He gently kisses her cheek, attempting to pull an answer from her, but when it proves unsuccessful, he leaves to draw a bath.

…

“You don’t have class tomorrow, right?”

The question draws her out of her gaze, now realizing she’s curled up in the tub with her knees drawn to her chest. The water is warm, cloudy, almost milky, and smells like roses. She couldn't bear to look at him right now, but she managed to force an answer from her lips.

“No,” she fights the urge to flinch when his fingers brush her hair away from her neck. “It’s my day off.”

“Good.” Coriolanus dips the washcloth in the tub and gently wipes it against her skin. “You’ll come with me to see Dr. Gaul. Bring your portfolio.”

Her body shudders at the thought of meeting the woman, but more notably, knowing that the man she held so much love for was nothing like the man he portrayed himself to be.

She once thought that he was her patron, but the truth was that he was her owner. All of the riches she had gained this past year meant nothing now. They weren’t hers. They were his. He had given her a life of safety where she could flourish and provide for her family, but it was one separated from the world she once knew. Her parents and friends from the fabric shop were replaced by the same obscenely wealthy elite who would have thumbed their nose at her if it weren’t for the proximity to him.

Every gentle brush of his fingers on her skin reminds her of what he’s done to her. How he now owns her.

Her mind falls to a lecture from a year ago. It was about evolution and apex predators. The boa, she remembers, was nonvenomous but deadly, wrapping themselves around their prey, squeezing their bodies until their circulation stopped and their lungs could no longer pull any oxygen. What’s more chilling, she thinks, is that they know to monitor their heartbeat, waiting for their heart to stop before swallowing them whole.

He’s wrapped himself around her, tightening his hold. She knows she can struggle, but he won’t loosen his grip. He’ll just constrict around her, tighter and tighter, until there’s no more room for her to fight—no more room to breathe.

“I’ve been very sweet on you, and I can keep doing that.” He hums. “But, I can be cruel as well. You and I both know I don’t want to do that.”

Finally, she finds the courage to look at him; those blue eyes are now colder than ever.

She tries to whisper, but when he raises a brow, she clears her throat and meekly responds.

“Thank you, Coriolanus. For everything.”

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow fic #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow x you #dark!coriolanus snow #tbosas #tbosas fic #tbosas fanfiction

2K notes · View notes

missydior · 4 months

Text

cinnamon girl ౨ৎ (part i)

♡: little hints that eventually reveal a long-flourished love.

notes: charles leclerc/singer reader, secret relationship, releasing & soft (?) launching, engagement, i’ve used song & album names from other artists here !

– based on this request ☁️

type: smau ・ face claim: madison beer ᥫ᭡

part ii: here !

a/n: my first smau on this blog </3 honestly not as proud of this one bc i had difficulty trying not to make it too long or awkward but i adore any excuse to look for pretty pics on pinterest, ily all

liked by honeymoon, franciscagomes and 555,116 others

yourusername: “there’s things i wanna say to you, but i’ll just let you live.” cinnamon girl out now ! i had so so much fun producing this song, love from me to you all <3

6,325 comments

user1: will be listening to this song on repeat for the rest of the year now

user2: literally obsessed 🫶🏼

friendusername: you deserve the world

yourusername: i <3 you

user3: can’t wait for your lover era one day, the songs will be lushhh

user4: girl, y/n already produces perfect music & lyricism without a man in her life, she’s doing just fine on her own

3,698 likes

newsofy/n: in a recent interview following the release of her new single ‘cinnamon girl’, y/n said “I am always inspired by those around me […] the support of my friends, family are the foundations of my work, every lyric and song is so personal to me – from experiences or those so dear to my heart…”

913 comments

user1: she is such a sweetheart, we must protect her.

user2: did anybody else notice that smile when the interviewer asked if she has any romantic ‘muses’ or inspiration?

user3: you’re taking it out of context, i’m pretty certain y/n is still as single as all of us </3

user2: ouch true, but you never know

user4: oh to be the muse of one of yourusername’s songs

liked by friendusername and 7,171 others

f1gossip: the monaco grand prix annually attracts all kinds of faces from the glitz & glamour, this year including the music industry’s sweetheart yourusername who had claimed she wanted to “return” to the place she has always adored, in person.

1,311 comments

user1: I wonder who she’s supporting 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

user2: probably charles leclerc, like every single girl who breathes.

user1: be quiet, I wouldn’t blame her anyway

user3: she looks like an angelll, paddock princess here she comes

user4: omg, didn’t she mention once in an interview that her father’s a lover of f1 too?

user5: I think I saw some old pics of her when she was like five with him at the belgian grand prix

user1: my two favourite people ever have MET EACH OTHER? crying inside currently

user2: they would make the most iconic couple

user3: girl bffr, they have just met

user2: let me be delulu, okay?

user4: no he has heart eyes

liked by friendusername, charlesleclerc and 591,132 others

yourusername: monaco, you were a blessing this weekend and i can’t wait to see you again soon, je t’aime <3

5,139 comments

user1: please, please, please come next year too, the paddock needs your fashion sense

user2: not charles lurking in the likes haha

user3: she’s got him interesteddd

user4: y/n and f1 was honestly the collab i never knew that i needed

user5: soon? what other business do you have in monaco?

liked by friendusername and 5,396 others

f1gossip: in a recent interview, when asked, charles leclerc revealed that he has listened to yourusername’s recent single ‘cinnamon girl’: “i’ve heard it a few times on the radio or shuffle, i think whoever is on the receiving end of her love songs now or in the future will be a lucky man, for sure.”

1,111 comments

user1: he’s definitely in love

user2: they’ve literally met once

user1: okay? i’ve never met him and i’m in love with him. anyway, we don’t know what they do away from the cameras and stuff

user3: he knows something we don’t.

user4: y/n’s friends are alwaysss on the gossip and i love it, they probably tell her all about it lol

liked by friendusername, pierregasly and 539,333 others

yourusername: from a secret admirer xoxo

5,692 comments

franciscagomes: finally?

yourusername: don’t pretend this is the first time

user1: y/n what does this meannnn?

user2: do you finally have some chance in your love life?

user3: that sounds so backhanded help

user4: whoever they are, i hope they treat you well y/n <3 our angel

♡ ✧ 。*・.

a/n: this feels a little rushed and awkward but i loved doing it nonetheless with my fun, little aesthetic </3 i’ve decided to divide it into two parts simply because it was getting long lol.

part ii: here <3

#𝜗𝜚 my works #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 smau #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 smau #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fluff #formula one imagine

1K notes · View notes

kelstey · 8 months

Text

who did this to you?

mattheo riddle x reader

warnings : domestic abuse, mentions of disordered eating, toxic relationship (not with mattheo)

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃

"gosh, will you hurry up?" cormac paced back and forth in your dorm as you were getting ready.

"i'm trying," you said trying to control your tears. you quickly set your foundation which was heavily packed on, covering the yellowing bruise underneath.

"fucking finally," he groaned. you got up and placed your robe on before the two of you walked down to the great hall for breakfast. thankfully it was the weekend so you could avoid as many people as possible.

you had tried getting out of the relationship, but he always gaslit and guilt tripped you into coming back. cormac had essentially isolated you from 90% of your friends and anyone you ever came into contact with.

he knew what he was doing, he was limiting your options of people to go to by making you out to be a bad person when you were secretly getting abused physically and mentally by cormac.

at first, he was the sweetest boy you had ever met. you thought you had met the love of your life - the man you would marry. you were terribly

wrong.

as soon as he had you wrapped around his finger, he switched. he constantly picked apart your appearance, belittling you and leaving you with minimal confidence.

he once accidentally slapped you during an argument, he told you he would never do it again. he lied.

at first your friends were concerned, they tried helping you, but cormac threatened you that if you told them, he'd hurt you. you were already hurting enough and you didn't think it was worth the risk.

soon rumours made their way around school that you talked shit about your friends, leading many of your friendships to end. you didn't know it was cormac who has behind all of it.

you spotted matthe staring at you already as you walked into the hall. you absolutely hated him - not for anything in particular, the two of you just never got along and have disliked each other since.

you sat down next to cormac as usual. a plate appeared in front of you, and you began to put bits of breakfast onto the plate. "remember to watch what you eat," he dug a hand into your thigh which caused you to lightly whimper as his nails etched into your skin.

"yes," you looked down at the plate, hardly enough for a baby yet alone a growing teenage girl. you began eating some fruit - filling yet good and cormac always appreciated you eating

'healthy' even though you couldn't give a fuck less what he liked, you would eat whatever when you were alone without him.

you finished and gazed around the hall, your eyes landing onto mattheos again. you sent him daggers, and he rolled his eyes before speaking to his friends.

"i need to go to the bathroom," you leaned into cormac's side. he nodded and you left the hall.

you walked down the hall and to the girl's bathroom, you looked into the mirror, noticing your makeup was slightly smudged and you could see the bruising.

"shit," you panicked, you looked through your bag for some powder and concealer, oblivious to mattheo who just entered the bathroom.

"who did this to you?" you heard a voice say and you jumped, dropping your concealer.

"fucking hell mattheo, do you know how expensive that shit is?" you picked up the concealer, forgetting momentarily about the clear bruise on your face.

"answer the question. who did this to you?" he took a step closer to you.

"no one," you said, it was hardly above a whisper though. you could feel tears well up in your eyes as mattheo observed your face.

"i'll fucking kill him," without a second to spare mattheo turned around and made his way back to the hall.

you followed, quick on his trail. "mattheo, please, don't," you tried to grab onto his arm.

"no - he fucking hurt you! why should he get away with that?!" mattheo was clearly angry, both at himself and cormac.

you didn't say anything and let go of his arm, looking down at the ground. you wanted mattheo to batter the shit out of cormac, but some part of you didn't want to see the guy you were dating get punched to death.

"i'll keep you safe," mattheo's hand reached for your chin, pushing it up slightly so you were looking up at him. "i won't let anyone ever hurt you again."

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃

#mattheo x you #mattheoxreader #mattheo x y/n #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #slytherin #slytherin boys #fanfic

1K notes · View notes

imaginespazzi · 9 days

Text

Part 9: These Moments Of Ours

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8

Just crash, it's our time now (to make this work second time around)

(In which a people-pleasing author gives the people what they've been begging for)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Fluff with a little bit Angst

Words: 7.2K Words

TW: Explicit Sexual Content, Swearing

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 Thank you for being oh so patient with me because I know I really made y'all wait and hopefully it'll be worth the wait. I'm gonna keep this pretty short and sweet today so onto the usual. Please keep sending me your thoughts and theories; they're the best motivation a girl could ask for. I did edit but feel free to point out the inevitable typos/mistakes. As always, let me know what you liked, what you disliked and what you'd like to see going forward. Have a lovely rest of your week my loves :)

April 2030

UConn 84 Notre Dame 82

The blue and white section of the Moda Center crowd erupts in cheers as the final buzzer rings through the stadium. Confetti rains down on the court as the UConn Huskies are crowned national champions once again. Paige’s scream is drowned out by KK’s louder whoop as the two of them excitedly wrap their arms around each other, jumping up and down like they’re college students all over again.

“Oh okay, love the inclusion,” Ice rolls her eyes but it morphs into a grin as her former teammates pull her into their group hug, all three of them making a ruckus that’s drowned out by the crowd around them roaring in excitement.

“Can y’all be a little quieter. I’m tryna mourn my Irish in peace,” Sonia says lousily, glaring at them in irritation as she fiddles with her clover bracelet.

“Oh cheer up Citron,” Paige teases her Wings teammate, “at least y’all finally made it back to the Final Four.”

“Fuck all the way off Bueckers-”

“GO HUSKIES,” a loud voice interrupts Sonia’s grumbling as Jana rushes into their section, the Valkyries center smiling vibrantly as she crashes into her old friends, “BLEED BLUE BABY!”

“Bleed blue!” the three UConn faithful chorus back as Sonia glumly saunters over to Maddy Westbeld who had come over with Jana, the two Fighting Irish alum sharing a commiserating hug.

“This is why everyone finds you Huskies insufferable,” Maddy says with disgust.

“Because we just keep winning? There, there little leprechauns,” Ice taunts, light-heartedly patting Maddy and Sonia’s heads as both of them bristle and flash the Wings forward with a synchronized middle finger, “I’m sure you’ll catch up to us never.”

Paige is about to join in on the ribbing when KK turns to Jana with a frown, “where’s Azzi? I thought all of y’all came together.”

She shouldn’t care this much anymore. It’s been five years and Paige thinks it’s a little ridiculous how quickly her ears perks up at the mention of her girlfriend, thinks it’s a little pathetic how she leans in closer to Jana, embarrassingly eager to hear the answer to KK’s question.

“We did. She wanted to go call her parents to check on Stephie,” Jana explains.

KK rolls her eyes, her face as disappointed as Paige feels, “of course she did.”

“What’s that supposed to mean,” Jana narrows her eyes at the shorter woman, a protective edge to her tone.

“It means that this avoidance bullshit Azzi’s on is pretty fucking tired,” KK sneers.

“KK bro chill,” Ice steps in immediately, looking worriedly between her two friends as Jana’s eyes flash with fire.

“She’s checking on her daughter KK. She’s not trying to avoid anything,” Jana’s quietness is in stark contrast with the loud cheers around them and Paige swallows the guilt clawing at her throat. This is their fault. Her and Azzi’s. They’d caused an earthquake in their own lives and the aftershocks had rippled throughout their friends and families, creating rubble where there had once been solid foundations.

KK laughs bitterly, “she had to check on her daughter right now? The game ended like three fucking seconds ago and she couldn’t just wait?”

“You’re being unfair.”

“Why are you always defending her?”

“Because she’s my teammate and it’s not all her fault,” Jana spits out, eyes briefly darting towards Paige who digs her fingernails into her palm, “it’s not her fault that she doesn’t always feel welcome around certain people.”

“And how about the rest of us people who’d really like to see her once in a while?” hurt tinges in KK’s words, “she can’t put the other shit aside for one fucking second?”

Jana opens her mouth, ready to defend her Azzi again but before she can speak, a calm voice cuts in, “hi guys.”

Goosebumps rush up Paige’s arms as she takes in the sight of the ex-girlfriend. There’s nothing extravagant to Azzi’s outfit, a simple UConn sweatshirt paired with black ripped jeans and minimal jewelry but she looks as radiant as always. There’s an awkward tension in the air as Azzi warily takes in the way KK and Jana are still glaring at each other. Her eyes accidentally lock with Paige and the blonde can see the same guilt of this is our collateral damage reflected back in those dark brown orbs.

“Hi Azzi,” Ice is the first one to break the silence, wrapping the Valkyries shooting guard in a hug, “how’s Stephanie?”

Paige watches as Azzi’s eyes light up at the mention of her daughter's name, all of her previous apprehension gone as she begins to gush about the little girl, “she’s good. Somehow manipulated my dad into letting her stay up past her bedtime but good. She’s only two years old but already such a damn menace,” the brunette’s gaze wanders over to KK, “I guess that was to be expected huh? Any child of mine was bound to be one.”

KK cracks a half smile, bumping her shoulder against Jana’s as a truce sign, “you call it being menace, we call it being smart as hell right El Alfy?”

“Dude that’s what I tell her every time,” Jana immediately accepts the white flag, slinging an arm around the shorter woman, “Azzi just has genius children. Me, you, Nés and now Stephie.”

Ice gawks at the two of them, “seriously?”

“Well you see Ice, statistically she can’t have all genius children. Someone needed to be average,” KK mocks, high-fiving a giggling Jana.

“Are y’all seeing this bullying?” Ice rounds on Paige and Azzi, hands on her hips with dramatically wide eyes, “are y’all really gonna let them bully your favorite child like this?”

“We don’t have favorites,” Paige and Azzi say at the same, pausing abruptly at the resurgence of familiar synchronicity between them. They glance briefly at each other, shuffling nervously, before immediately looking away.

“I hate all of y’all,” Ice pouts, petulantly folding her arms against her chest.

“Aw cheer up Icey,” Jana pats the top of Ice’s head, “how about a round of shots at the hotel bar to cheer you up?” she turns to Maddy and Sonia, who’d been having their own conversation, with a devilish grin, “losing team’s paying.”

“Y’all are sore winners,” Maddy huffs.

Paige’s eyes dart towards Azzi, waiting for the younger woman to come up with a shallow excuse like she usually does to get out of having to spend more time with the blonde than necessary. And she knows that it’s unfair of her, knows that it’s only natural for someone to actively avoid being stuck in the same place as their past -thinks only a fool like her could want to be in their ex’s presence- but every time Azzi escapes being around her, Paige can’t help the disappointment that curls in her stomach.

“Y’all coming,” KK asks, a slight edge to her voice as she twists to look at Paige and Azzi.

“Of course,” Paige grins, locking arms with Sonia who immediately groans, “I’m not passing up free drinks. Especially not when the Irish are paying.”

“Az?” KK’s eyes are hopeful.

Azzi bites her lip and Paige can almost see the cogs turning in her brain before she schools her features into a soft smile, “yeah. I’ll come.”

***

Paige isn’t sure how it happens. Well actually, that’s not quite right. She definitely has an idea of how it happened. She’s not quite sure when KK, Ice and Jana had had time to devise the plan but she’s certain that’s how it happened. Because really, there’s no other reasonable explanation for how she and Azzi have ended up being the only two people, from their previous party of seven, that are still sitting at the bar. Maddy and Sonia had left first, muttering under their breaths about not wanting to be around insufferable winners. Ice had been the next to leave, making up an excuse about how she wanted to call her boyfriend. Then Jana had apparently needed the bathroom. When she hadn’t returned in a solid 15 minutes, it was KK’s turn. A barely disguised grin and a hard-to-believe lie of I think Jana got lost, I should go help her on her lips as she’d excused herself to the sound of Paige and Azzi’s protests.

The two of them sit in awkward silence for a bit until Azzi suddenly bursts out laughing, the corner of her eyes crinkling. Paige regards her with amusement, trying to ignore the way the sound of the younger woman laughing feels like hearing her favorite song come on in the car on a warm summer road trip.

“You’re a little young to be going crazy,” she remarks.

“Shut up,” Azzi rolls her eyes, lightly punching Paige’s shoulder, “it’s just- they’re still all really shitty liars.”

Paige laughs, “and they still come up with the dumbest plans.”

“Do you remember when they locked us in the Werth changing rooms when we had that stupid fight-”

“Hey,” Paige interrupts indignantly, “it wasn’t stupid-”

“It was definitely stupid-”

“You asked Carol to drive you to rehab instead of me.”

“Because you had practice at the same time.”

“I wouldn’t have minded being five minutes late to practice.”

Azzi snorts, “more like half an hour and you sure as shit wouldn’t have been fine when coach would have yelled at you and made you run suicides after.”

“I wouldn’t have cared,” Paige shrugs, “running suicides would have been worth it for an extra hour with you.”

Azzi stares at her, mouth opening and closing several times before she finally looks away, a soft sigh falling from her lips, “you’re doing it again.”

“I’m not doing anything,” Paige says, unable to keep the defensiveness from creeping into her words.

“You are,” Azzi slips off the barstool, “you are and you don’t even know it.”

“Azzi,” Paige curls her hand around the other woman’s bicep, pulling her in to stop her from leaving and it’s a bad idea because now they’re too close and her heartbeat quickens immediately at the fact that if she leaned in just a little bit more, there would be no more space left between them, “what am I doing?”

“You’re- you-” Azzi stutters, gulping as her eyes briefly flicker down to Paige’s lips, “you’re making me feel.”

“Making you feel what?” Paige presses.

For a second, Paige thinks Azzi might just give in to her heart, might just tell the truth but then something hardens in her face, and the next word that slips out of her mouth has both of them going rigid, “how’s your wife Paige?”

“Az-”

“I should go to bed,” Azzi says firmly, trying to wriggle out of Paige’s tightening grip.

“Azzi-”

“I have an early flight and I should probably wake up a little earlier than I normally would cause you know Jana’s gonna need me to wake her up,” Azzi rambles still trying to twist her arm out of Paige’s hold.

“Hold on-”

“Can you just let go of me-”

“I’m trying to tell-”

“I really need to get to bed-’

“Az-”

“I have to go-”

“Azzi I’m getting a divorce,” Paige bursts out; the admission feels light a heavy weight off her chest.

Azzi stops fighting against the blonde’s grip, “oh.”

“We’ve- um-” Paige’s throat feels dry as Azzi’s eyes continue to bore into her, “we’ve been separated for a while and I finally-uh- finally filed the papers a little while ago. So um- to your question- I uh- I don’t know how she is because I- I don’t- there uh- there isn’t- there isn’t a wife.”

There’s silence for a bit as Azzi’s head bops up and down as she processes Paige’s revelation, “I’m um-” she clears her throat, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s not like it’s your fault,” and that’s not completely true -not when Olivia had repeatedly thrown the past back in Paige’s face- but she doesn’t think Azzi needs to know that, doesn’t want the younger woman to feel guilty for things beyond her control. She’s confused when Azzi flinches, like a memory has just pinched her nerves.

“Right,” Azzi bites, “I really should- I really should be going to bed.”

Something gloomy settles across Paige’s heart as she nods at the brunette’s words, slipping out of her own chair as they start walking towards the elevator in the lobby. She feels antsy, like she’s leaving something incomplete. The silence rings loud between them as they wait for the elevator doors to open, keeping as much distance as they can from each other. It feels like ages before the familiar ding! finally rings out around them. Despite the abundance of room inside, the doorway into the elevator is rather condensed and their shoulders brush against each other as they make their way inside. Audible sighs involuntarily roll off of their tongues at the brief second of contact as they both shiver from each other’s familiar touch. There’s enough space now that they could easily move away -they probably should move away- but instead they stay pressed together. The sound of their uneven breathing fills the elevator as the doors close in front of them.

“I’m uh- I’m on the third floor,” Azzi says as she presses the #3 button, “you?”

“Fifth,” Paige breathes out, eyes fixated on the goosebumps that appear on the back of Azzi’s neck as her hands shake while pushing the #5 button.

The elevator jolts up and Paige immediately reaches for Azzi’s hips to steady her, eliciting a small gasp from the other woman. She waits for Azzi to move away but the brunette stays put and Paige doesn’t move her hands.

The doors open on the third floor. Both of them suck in a sharp breath.

Azzi doesn’t get out.

***

Paige wakes up to the dreadful sound of her alarm clock blaring around her room. It takes a second before the memories of last night start pounding against her skull. Her body aches in the best way possible. The room is still dark -just like it had been last night- and she closes her eyes, trying to revisit the feeling of Azzi’s lips pressed against her forehead, right before the younger woman -with her hair disheveled and bitemarks littered across her jawline- had left Paige’s room.

Paige hadn’t asked Azzi to stay. She wonders if she should have; wonders if Azzi would have agreed if she’d asked. But she hadn’t asked and Azzi hadn’t stayed. She regrets it a little bit. She wonders if Azzi does too. And Paige thinks that maybe that’s just the melancholic truth about their tragic story.

Maybe they’re destined to always regret.

***

April 2033

Paige thinks Azzi’s guest room air conditioning must be broken or something. There’s no other explanation for why, despite having kicked off every single blanket, she feels like she’s tossing and turning in red hot lava. She feels restless, like she has a purpose that she’s leaving unfulfilled. All the different scenes from tonight are rushing through her head, but her heart keeps stuttering on the last one; an image of the way Azzi had looked at her before they’d kissed good night.

Azzi had asked her to stay even if she’d hidden it under a lame disguise of it being too late and Paige being too angry to drive home alone. And it’s not completely false that her blood is still boiling, their little encounter with fucking asshole still dangerously lingering in her mind as she thinks of the 101 ways she would have liked to murder him. But they both know that the minute Azzi had run her hand down Paige’s back, the moment she’d called her baby, the moment she’d given her the reassurance she was too scared to ask for but needed desperately, Paige had felt all the anger in her body replaced by that familiar sense of calm only Azzi had ever been able to provide.

And after that had been decided, they’d both hesitated in the hallway, looking back and forth between Azzi’s master bedroom and the guestroom. Paige doesn’t know what had possessed her, why she’d decided tonight of all nights to play this false chivalrous rule-abiding good girl persona when it was the last thing she wanted to do. Because the last couple of weeks had been hell. The stupid rules had been hell. Going slow had been hell. Having to pull away from Azzi and walk out the door every night when all she wanted to was to lose herself in the brunette’s arms had been hell. But she’d done it for Azzi. She’d done it because there isn’t a thing in the world that she wouldn’t do for Azzi. Except tonight had been different. There had been that look on Azzi’s face -the way the younger woman had bitten her lips, the way her eyes had been hooded over, the way her cheeks had been flushed as her gaze roamed over Paige’s body- and it had morphed into one of pure disappointment when Paige had said she’d take the guestroom.

You’re a fucking idiot Paige Bueckers, she thinks to herself as she bolts right up, the image finally burning a little too bright behind her eyelids to continue this façade of trying to sleep. Perhaps it’s pointless. It’s late and Azzi loves her sleep; there’s no way she’s awake. But Paige slides out of bed anyways, breathing unevenly as she turns on the nightlight and walks towards her door. She doesn’t have a plan, doesn’t have any idea what she’d even say if Azzi is, by some miracle of god, even awake. But fuck it, Paige needs to see this through. She pauses at the door, hands wrapping around the cold handle as she gives herself one more chance to back out. Really, she doesn’t even know why she’s so nervous. It’s Azzi. Her Azzi.

Paige twists the handle to tug the door open.

Azzi’s eyes widen in surprise, her fisted hand -that had clearly been raised to knock on the mahogany door- freezing in place as she swallows and Paige is mesmerized by the way it highlights the veins in her neck. Her eyes move downwards, fixating on where Azzi’s oversized t-shirt hangs looser on one-side, leaving her right shoulder and collarbone on display. The shirt right above her thighs, giving Paige the perfect display of Azzi’s toned long legs looming beneath and the blonde gulps at the sight.

“Hi,” Azzi speaks first, the low graveliness in her tone causing a coil of want to wrap itself around Paige’s stomach.

“Hey,” Paige whispers back, “couldn’t sleep?”

Azzi bites her lip, “no- I just uh-, people always say- like when Jana sleeps over or something- she always says that- that the guest room is um- it’s too cold so I just- I wanted to make sure- wanted to ask-” she clears her throat, taking a step forward as she look earnestly at Paige, “are you cold?”

“So cold,” Paige confirms, moving closer to Azzi so their chests are almost touching.

“You could um-” Azzi licks her teeth, “you could stay in Stephie’s room-”

“I could?” Paige asks, pressing herself flush against the younger woman, hands wrapping around her waist. There’s barely space for air between them but she wants to get closer, wants to stitch herself into Azzi’s skin and keep them intertwined forever.

“You could but,” Azzi’s hand trails Paige’s biceps, causing the blonde to shiver, before finally interlocking around her neck, “I think- I think her bed might be a little small for you.”

“Way too small,” Paige breathes against Azzi’s skin as she nips at the brunette’s jawline, before ghosting her lips against her neck, leaving a trail of mine mine mine down her throat.

“Paige,” Azzi’s voice is breathless as she tilts her head, hissing when Paige bites harshly right above her collarbone, immediately soothing it with her tongue, “I think- I think-fuck” she cuts herself with a moan as Paige turns them around, maneuvering them back towards the bed that suddenly looks far more inviting then it had before, “I just think-”

“You think too much,” Paige says softly, finally removing her lips from Azzi’s skin -she misses the taste of it immediately- so she can smile teasingly at the brunette.

“Do I?” Azzi grins dopily.

Paige rolls her eyes, continuing to walk them backwards, “way, way too much.”

They’re forced to a halt when the back of Azzi’s thighs collide against the backframe of the bed. It feels like a turning point, like they could unlock a new chapter or keep themselves on the one they’re already on. And while Paige would really to skip forward, she’ll be okay with whatever happens next as long as the story being written is still theirs, still about her and Azzi.

“Paige,” Azzi whispers again -and Paige loves the way Azzi’s lips curl around the syllable of her name- as she bunches the blonde’s shirt in her hands, “make me stop thinking.”

“Whatever you want baby,” Paige promises before they both go tumbling into the mattress, their lips colliding in a heated kiss. It feels like they’re trying to meld themselves into each other, like their bodies are carving out an indent of you and i just always feel right against the bedsheets.

“I want this off,” Azzi breathes out between kisses, hands lifting the edge of Paige’s shirt, “off, off, off.”

“So bossy,” Paige smirks, leaning up off of Azzi to take off her shirt in a tantalizingly slow manner, enjoying the way the brunette’s eyes darken as they glide across her abs first and then her breasts, “enjoying the sho- fuck Az.”

The words are stolen from her mouth as Azzi swirls her tongue around one erect nipple, her hands cupping Paige’s ass to balance the blonde on top of her. She’s always known exactly how to get Paige to shut the fuck up. Paige groans as Azzi flips them over, shifting herself to press her thigh in between Paige’s legs and the blonde can’t help but grind up against it, desperate for some much needed friction, as Azzi sucks a possessive bruise against her jaw.

“Missed this,” Azzi whispers, as she kisses down Paige’s neck, “and this,” a kiss pressed against her collarbone, “and these,” Azzi presses her lips softly to each breast, “and this,” against Paige’s stomach, “and these,” two featherlight kisses are peppered against her hip bones, “and I really missed these.”

“Azzi,” Paige moans as the brunette’s lips glide across the inside of her thighs, taking her sweet time marking only i could ever make you feel like this against every inch of Paige’s skin.

Azzi stops right above the edge of Paige’s boxers before slowly peeling them off as sparkling brown eyes staring up at her with a myriad of unspoken emotions that Paige could spend a lifetime trying to memorize, “missed all of this. Missed everything about you. Missed you so much baby.”

Vulnerability echoes in Azzi’s voice as she slowly moves herself back up, hands coming to cup Paige’s face as they press their foreheads together. And it’s not like she hadn’t known that Azzi must have missed her in these last couple of years. But there’s a part of Paige that had thought that there was no way Azzi could have missed her as much as she missed Azzi. Because missing Azzi had felt all consuming, like there was a constant noose around her neck that got tighter and tighter with every day that passed by. But there’s something about the way the words reverberate around the room, something about the way Azzi looks like she can finally breathe again after saying it out loud that it hits Paige; it hits her that they’ve both been suffocating without each other.

“I missed you too,” she breathes out, tears pooling at the edge of her eyes, “missed you so fucking much Azzi.”

“Yeah?” Azzi whispers, lips catching the lone tear that falls from Paige’s eyes, “how much?”

Paige shudders as Azzi’s fingers teasingly ghost over her wet folds, “s-so much. Azzi please. Need it so bad. Need you so bad.”

“Whatever you want baby,” Azzi repeats Paige’s own words back to her before she finally gives her what she’s desperately been craving, two fingers rhythmically pumping in and out of her pussy as her thumb rubs circles against Paige’s clit.

“Fuck, fuck, just like that-” a litany of curses waterfall from Paige’s lips as she bucks her hips up against Azzi’s hand, “fuck please.”

“Please what?” Azzi asks coyly, fingers moving at a faster face as she hides a grin against Paige’s neck, “gotta tell me what you want baby.”

“W-want your mouth please- please Azzi-baby please,” Paige begs, writhing underneath her when Azzi immediately complies, lips attaching to her clit as she adds another finger, “fuck Azzi- I’m so close.”

“I know baby,” the words vibrate against Paige’s core, sending another bout of ecstasy shooting up her spine as she feels that familiar buildup in her stomach.

“Azz I’m gonna-”

“I know. Let go baby. I’ve got you. I’m gonna catch you I promise,” Azzi whispers.

And it’s those words, that promise, that sends Paige over the edge, a cry of Azzi’s name falling from her lips. Because she knows Azzi means them for a lot more than just this moment, that those words -the promise- are born out of something deeper than lust. And maybe neither of them are quite ready to acknowledge that yet, not ready to make vows that teeter dangerously close to the ones they watched themselves break in the past, but it lingers between them, like a string made of we’ve always been inevitable connecting their hearts to each other.

Azzi slowly eases her fingers out of Paige, pressing open-mouthed kisses against the older woman’s stomach as she recovers from her high, before looking up at her with a smirk. Never breaking eye contact, Azzi slips her fingers into her own mouth, leisurely sucking at them as she watches Paige’s face contort with desire.

“Was I good?” she asks teasingly and Paige growls.

“How have you gotten better at that? Actually you know what never mind,” Paige shakes her head, “I don’t want to know that.”

Azzi laughs, hiding her face against Paige’s neck, “only that good for you.”

“Good,” Paige tightens her arms around the woman on top of her and then scrunches her face as she feels the material of Azzi’s shirt itch against her wrists, “well this is unfair.”

“What is?” Azzi hum backs.

“I’m fully fucking naked and you haven’t taken a single thing off,” Paige grumbles as she coaxes Azzi’s face out of her neck, hands gripping the edge of her shit, “take this off.”

Azzi stills, her previous serene expression replaced by something more nervous, as she lifts herself up so she’s straddling the older woman’s hips, “Paige-”

“What’s wrong?” Paige’s senses are on high alert immediately as she rises up herself, maneuvering them so Azzi’s fully on her lap.

“I just-,” Azzi draws in a deep breath, looking downwards as she chews her lips.

“Hey,” Paige whispers, lifting the younger woman’s chin back up before pressing their foreheads together, “talk to me baby.”

“Can we just-” Azzi plays with the end of Paige’s hair, “can we maybe just-” she cocks her head towards the nightlight on the desk, “do you think we could turn the light off?”

“What?” Paige asks confusedly, “Azzi I’ve seen you naked-”

“Not since- not since I had Stephie,” Azzi interrupts, cowering under Paige’s intense stare, “the lights- the lights were off that one time and the other time I don't think- I don’t think we were sober enough for me to care or for you to remember so can we just-”

“Azzi,” Paige cups the younger woman’s face, “baby there is no amount of alcohol in the world that could make me forget you. Trust me I’ve tried,” she slips her hand under Azzi’s shirt, caressing the skin underneath, “but every time I see you baby, I memorize every little part of you,” she dances her fingertips across where she remembers those stretch marks -the ones Azzi is so afraid of her seeing again- are littered across her stomach, “and whether I’m sober or drunk or something in between, I always think every little bit of you is perfect.”

“Paige,” Azzi says softly, something akin to awe coating her voice.

“Just wanna make you feel as good as you made me feel baby. Please,” Paige wraps her fingers around the edge of Azzi’s shirt again, “can I?”

“Okay,” Azzi concedes quietly, lifting her arms so Paige can finally tug the offending shirt off.

Paige gives herself a moment to look at the woman in front of her, the woman whose body she’s seen countless times yet she swears that it feels like a different adventure every time. And then she lets herself have a taste, running her tongue lazily across Azzi’s skin, as she slowly maneuvers them so she can hover above the younger woman. A soft smile flitter across her face as she rubs her fingers over the tattoo printed across Azzi’s ribcage. It’s a purple S tattoo, with butterfly wings fanning out on either side. For Stephie.

Keeping her eyes trained on the darker-skinned , she brushes her lips across the stretch marks on the darker-skinned woman’s abdomen and she hopes that Azzi can read the all of your imperfections are still made for me that Paige is spelling out against her skin. She uses her teeth to pull down Azzi’s panties, smirking to herself when she hears the younger woman's breath hitch above her. Eyes still interlocked with Azzi’s, Paige is purposefully slow as she licks a stripe up Azzi’s folds, relishing the way the other woman’s eyes roll back into her head.

“So fucking wet,” she hums, “all for me?”

“You know-” Azzi shudders when Paige’s lips brush against her clit, still teasing, “you know it is.”

Paige smirks, “only for me.”

“Please,” Azzi begs as Paige continues to lazily lap at her pussy, giving her something but not quite enough.

“Say it,” Paige demands, harshly biting against Azzi’s inner thigh as she brings up a hand to rub infinity signs around Azzi’s clit, “say it’s only for me.”

“It’s only for you-” Azzi cuts herself off with a scream as Paige plunges her tongue deep inside her, setting a tempo she knows will have Azzi seeing stars.

“Doing so good for me baby,” Paige coos as she adds two fingers with her tongue, “always so good for me.”

“Fuck,” Azzi fists the bedsheets, trying to gain some semblance of control as she writhes under Paige’s touch, “feels so good. Paige please.”

“I know,” Paige whispers, “I know what you need baby.”

And that’s the thing about them. That’s why it’s good every single time. Because Paige knows every little crevice of Azzi’s body like it’s her own, knows exactly where to touch and how to touch to elicit those little gasps of pleasure that she wishes she could record and listen to on loop. And it doesn’t matter how long they go without each other in between, coming back always feels like home. But as much as she loves the feeling of coming back, Paige never wants to feel it again. Because this time, she hopes there is no in between without each other. She hopes that this time, they both stay.

“Paige,” Azzi moans again, her name falling from her mouth like a prayer.

“I’ve got you,” Paige whispers, capturing Azzi’s lips with her own as she continues her ministrations with her hand, “fall apart for me baby. I swear I’ll put you back together.”

There’s nothing quite like watching Azzi come undone and Paige drinks in the sight of the other woman quivering as she grabs the blonde’s bicep so tight that it’s bound to leave a victory mark. Paige coaxes her through it, nibbling at Azzi’s jawline as the younger woman slowly climbs down from her peak, going limp in Paige’s arms.

They’re quiet for a while, languorously pressing delicate kisses against each other's skin, soft hands exploring all over each other’s familiar bodies as they tangle their legs together; close not being close enough.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Paige whines when Azzi starts to move out of her grasp.

“I got what I came for,” Azzi teases, “so I’m going back to my own bed.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Paige scowls, pulling the younger woman back into her chest.

Azzi laughs, kissing away Paige’s pout as she wriggles out of her grip and slips out of the bed, “relax. I’m just getting something to clean us up with.”

“Well hurry up. I’m already cold,” Paige mewls before letting out a wolf-whistle as her eyes drift over Azzi’s naked retreating form, appreciating the tautness of the brunette’s back muscles down to her perfectly curved ass.

“You’re 31 years old Paige Bueckers,” Azzi chides as she walks into the ensuite bathroom but Paige can hear the blush in her voice.

“And you’re hot as fuck Azzi Fudd,” Paige calls out with a smirk, keeping the and you’re all mine as a secret in her own thoughts.

“You’re not bad yourself Bueckers,” Azzi returns from the bathroom with a smile and a damp cloth as she hops back onto the bed, gently dabbing it between Paige’s thighs.

It’s a simple act but Paige feels tears prickle at the corner of the eyes. Because it signifies so much more than just this moment. For most of her life, Paige had grown accustomed to the idea that no one would take care of her unless she took care of them first. She didn't know it was possible that someone could reach out first, that they could hold her first without any expectation of anything else in return. Until Azzi.

“Baby?” Azzi’s voice is wrapped in concern as she takes notice of Paige’s tears, immediately rising up to brush them away, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing I just-” Paige loops her arms around Azzi’s neck, shuddering slightly at how earnest the younger woman’s face is, “I really fucking missed you.”

Azzi’s eyes soften as she caresses Paige’s cheek before pressing her lips against her forehead, “I really fucking missed you too.”

***

Paige’s eyes flutter awake to sunlight peeking through the blue curtains of Azzi’s guest bedroom. She groans, shifting to bury her face further into the brunette’s stomach, pinching it when Azzi laughs above her. Lifting her head slightly, Paige can’t help but smile at the woman above her. Azzi’s got her glasses on, a book in her hands as she peers down at Paige with nothing but pure fondness. Something aches in Paige’s chest as countless visions of mornings just like this fill her head. She’d resigned herself to believing that she’d never get this back again, that she’d have to rely on memories of the past to fill the empty void that rattled hollowly against her chest every time she’d woken up without Azzi by her side.

“Morning sleepy head,” Azzi says softly, putting her book down to brush her fingers through Paige’s hair, “assuming you slept well considering you didn’t even notice when I left to grab my glasses and a book from my room.”

Paige frowns, “you left me?”

“I was bored,” Azzi defends herself, “you were fast asleep and I had nothing to occupy myself with.”

“I can believe you left me,” Paige petulantly accuses again.

“I didn’t leave-”

“You left me!”

“Okay fine,” Azzi concedes with an eyeroll, “but I came back.”

“Yeah you did,” a soft smile takes over Paige’s features as she leans up to brush her lips against Azzi’s, “you came back.”

“I did,” Azzi whispers against Paige’s mouth, cupping the older woman’s face with her hands.

Paige is about to deepen the kiss, her hands beginning to slip lower, when the sound of a doorbell ruins any chances of putting in motion any of the uncordial ideas that had taken birth in her mind. She groans as Azzi immediately pulls away.

“Shit, I didn’t realize they’d be here so early.” the younger woman curses, hurriedly tossing Paige’s discarded clothes at her, “here, put your clothes on. I’ll go down first while you change.”

“I- I can come down?” Paige asks slowly.

Azzi crinkles her eyes in confusion, “what do you mean? What else would you do?”

“I just. I dunno-” Paige shrugs, “I just assumed you uh- you wouldn’t want Stephie to know I stayed the night. I figured I’d sneak out of the window or something.”

“Paige,” Azzi whispers, walking over to grip the older girl’s hands, “you’re not- you’re not my dirty little secret or anything. I’m not- I’m not quite ready to tell Stephie about us- hell I’m not even really sure what we are yet but I know- I know that I don’t want to hide you from her. Besides,” she nudges Paige humorously, “we’re on the 2nd floor babe. I don’t need you trying to climb out the window and breaking your knee before the season even starts.”

Paige watches quietly as Azzi walks out the door. She doesn’t think the younger woman quite understands how much she had needed to hear those words, how much she had needed to not feel like a secret again. It fills Paige with a sense of hope, hope that maybe things would be different this time. Maybe things would be better this time.

***

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie squeals from Azzi’s arms as she spots Paige descending down the stairs, “you’re already here!”

Paige smiles at the little girl, tapping her nose over Azzi’s shoulder, “I promised you I’d be here bright and early didn’t I?”

“Very bright and early,” Katie cocks an eyebrow as she smirks at Paige and Azzi, “how did you get here so early Paige?”

“Don’t be silly Nanna. She drove of course,” Stephie says matter-of-factly before scrunching up her nose, “but Miss Buecks. How come your car isn’t outside then?”

“That’s a great question Stephie,” Katie says and Paige thinks the woman’s a little bit too peppy for a grandmother, “why isn’t your car outside Paige?”

“Because-” Azzi gives her mother an exasperated look before fixing her eyes on her daughter, “because Paige slept over last night.”

“Miss Buecks slept over last night?” Stephie repeats.

“I did,” Paige confirms, glaring at Katie as she snickers in the corner.

“Mama can you please put me down,” Stephie says finally.

The little girl looks upset and Paige feels her heart constrict with fear. In general, she doesn’t really do well with people being mad at her. But she definitely doesn't think she can take Stephie of all people being mad at her. The little girl has chiseled herself into Paige’s heart and if she ever left, Paige thinks she’d leave a hole so big, her entire heart would cease working.

Azzi shares a nervous look with Paige as she sets her daughter down before crouching down to Stephie’s level, “what’s wrong Stephie-bean?”

Stephie’s bottom lip trembles as she looks between her mother and Paige, “you let Miss Buecks sleepover.”

“I-” Azzi looks helplessly between her own mother and Paige, both of whom look just as tense, “I did but sweetheart why is that upsetting you? You like Miss Buecks.”

“I love Miss Buecks,” Stephie wails and Paige lets out a sigh of relief, the little girl's words wrapping themselves around her like a warm blanket.

Azzi blanches for a second, “I don’t understand then what’s the problem-”

“YOU GUYS HAD A SLEEPOVER WITHOUT ME,” Stephie yells, stomping her tiny feet.

Oh.

“Stephie-” Azzi says softly, unable to keep the smile off of her face.

“I can’t believe you’d do this to me Mama,” Stephie sniffs as she turns to Paige with a betrayed expression, “and you Miss Buecks. How could you guys have a sleepover without me?”

“Oh sweetheart,” Paige falls to her knees beside Azzi, trying not to smile when Stephie dramatically turns her face away from them, “we didn’t mean to. It was just really late when we got back from the party-”

“The party,” Stephie cries out, “first you went to a party without me and then you had a sleepover without me. I can’t bel-ieve you guys would do that to me. Don’t you guys love me at all?”

“We’re really sorry Stephie,” Paige says as seriously as she can, reaching out to fold Stephie’s tiny hands into her much larger one.

“Very, very, sorry,” Azzi echoes.

“I don’t know,” Katie supplies unhelpfully from where she’s watching the whole situation with pure amusement, “they don’t seem that sorry Stephie.”

“Mom!” “Katie!”

Katie raises her hands in mock surrender as both Paige and Azzi glare at her, “just looking out for my granddaughter’s best interest.”

“Stephie-bean,” Paige says again, maneuvering the little girl’s body to face her, “your Mama and I are very, very, sorry for having a sleepover without you. Please forgive us.”

Stephie looks at the adults kneeling in front of her with a contemplative expression, “you promise you’ll never do it again?”

“Never,” Azzi promises as Paige nods along.

“And when we go to the park today I can get three scoops of ice cream?” the little girl asks, the hint of a smile starting to breakthrough her lips.

“I don’t know about that one sweetheart. That’s a lot of ice-”

“Of course you can!”

“Paige!” Azzi hisses.

“And you’ll push me on the swing at the park for twenty minutes?”

“I’ll even push you for thirty minutes if you want,” Paige says and Azzi rolls her eyes.

“Just had to one-up it didn’t you Bueckers,” she mutters under her breath.

“And even though Miss Buecks said she’d get me fries at the park, I can get In-N-Out for dinner too?”

“You’re pushing it Stephie-bean-”

“In-N-Out for dinner sounds perfect,” Paige winks at Stephie as a full smile finally overtakes the little girl’s face.

“You’re hopeless,” Azzi chides the blonde, throwing her hands up exasperatedly but there’s no denying the grin on her face as she looks back at Stephie, “is that all your highness? Are we finally forgiven or did you want to ask us for more unhealthy things?”

“Just one more thing,” Stephie’s eyes twinkle with mischief, “Miss Buecks has to sleepover tonight too.”

Paige and Azzi share a toothy smile with each other before turning to the little girl.

“I think that could be arranged.”

The words are barely out of Paige’s mouth before Stephie goes tumbling into her and Azzi, tiny arms somehow wrapping around both of their necks as she pulls them into a group hug. The two adults laugh, cocooning the little girl in between them as she rambles on about how excited she is. And Paige thinks that when all is said and done, when she looks back on her life, she’ll remember this moment as the one where everything started to finally come together. Right now, with Stephie's arms wrapped around her neck and Azzi’s hands curling around the little girl’s back to intertwine their fingers together, this moment here feels perfect. This moment feels like it belongs to Paige.

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #wcbb

353 notes · View notes

rafeandonlyrafe · 5 months

Text

w for wheezie

words: 1.5k

warnings: very wheezie heavy i stan her, established relationship, physical violence!, descriptions of blood, rafe vs pogues, cameron family drama

“what do you think?” you hold up two letters, each silver with diamonds encrusted in them. “w for wheezie or l for louisa?”

“umm…” wheezie looks at the charms, tapping her chin, eyes flicking back and forth between the two.”

“i would say both, but…” you shrug, leaving the decision up to her.

“i think w because everyone calls me wheezie.” she decides.

“perfect.” you smile, looking at the chain lengths next. you love spending time with wheezie, especially when its shopping days like today where you take her to the mall or whatever store she wants.

usually rafe would accompany you, always hanging back to allow you to gossip, even if it was about him and your relationship. he’d only appear when you headed to the cash register, supplying his credit card to pay for whatever clothes or accessories you got.

“we should stop by sephora next.” you say as the cashier rings up your jewelry, various bracelets and necklaces, along with a chain and ring you bought for rafe (or really he bought for himself as you hand the cashier his card, but at least you picked it out).

“i need a new foundation for the summer.” wheezie says. it makes you pout for a moment, thinking about how grown up she is. you’ve been friends with rafe since middle school and used to play barbies with wheezie and take her to the american girl doll store, and now you’re taking her to buy makeup and try on dresses for homecoming.

“maybe a tinted moisturizer.” you remark, walking with bags in your hand to sephora.

“i would call this a successful haul.” you giggle as you load up your car, having to put bags in the backseat as well once the trunk is full. you turn on a playlist of yours and wheezies favorite songs, having different playlists ready for whoever you’re with.

it’s practical to buy so much at one time since you made the almost two hour drive to norfolk to visit the mall, and probably won’t be back for a long time. you prefer staying in the outer banks to shop, but it’s not always possible with the limited number of stores.

“do you think you have time next week to take me to get my haircut?” wheezie asks, already looking a bit like a mini you, and you have no doubt she’ll ask for a similar haircut.

“of course, wheezie girl!” you nod before letting out a squeal when one of your favorite songs come on, you both belting out the words as you make your way back towards tanneyhill, driving through marshy swamplands, little towns and finally crossing over the bridge.

you pull up the driveway, surprised how eerily quiet it seems to be. usually rafe would be running out the door to make sure you didn’t carry anything in.

“stay in the car for a sec wheezie girl…” you have a strange feeling building, and you always trust your gut. you look back to make sure she doesn’t follow you as you walk into the house to hear muffled grunting.

“rafe?” you call out, your cautious footsteps turning into a run as you make your way further into the house until you see rafe being held up by john b, jjs arm pushing forward to punch him in the gut.

“stop it!” you shout, running in to push jj away, but the second rafe is out of john bs tight hold, he turns to attack them, bravely taking on both in a flair of fists.

“stop it, rafe!” you shout, pulling at his arm. he only pauses when he feels your gentle touch, but john b doesn’t quit, reaching out to hit rafe again, right in the nose as he instantly starts to bleed.

“sarah!” you scream, finally noticing her in the corner of the room, sat with a glazed look in her eye with her knees pulled up to her chest. “stop your freaking attacking dog boyfriend!” you step between the boys, all three of them panting heavily, rafes nose dripping blood down the front of his shirt.

“we are fucking rescuing her!” jj says, puffing his chest up.

“what?” you turn to look at sarah, waiting for an explanation.

“rafe tried to lock me in the house.” she finally says, seeming to shake out of whatever daze she’s in as she stands up. “he tried to stop me from seeing john b.”

“im just trying to do whats best for you, sarah.” rafe says, his voice sounding hoarse from the fight. “he’s a bad guy.”

“no he’s not!” sarah shouts, no doubt going to start in on tirade when you hold your hand up.

“sarah, go with john b. just…” you let out a deep sigh. “get out of here. be back by dark though.” you shoo her away. no way she’s going to actually listen to you and be back by sundown, but at least it gives you time to figure out what’s going on and tend to rafe.

you turn to watch them leave, frown appearing on your face when you see wheezie standing there, looking like a scared little girl you once knew.

“wheeze-” you call to her, but she runs up her stairs into her room, slamming her door loudly. a problem for later, you decide as you turn to rafe.

“come on, baby, lets get you cleaned up.” you say softly, trying to lessen the anger so visible on his features. you lead rafe into the kitchen, wetting a rag with warm water as you gently drag it over his face, feeling tears well up in your eye when you see his busted lip.

“how was shopping? did you have fun?” rafe asks, making you glare at him.

“don’t you dare try to change the topic, rafe cameron. what happened?” you sigh.

“john b and those pogues are fucking criminals. there’s someone who has been robbing houses, and i don’t doubt it’s those fucking-” rafe lets out an angry grunt when you press the washcloth against his cheek, a bruise already forming. “im just trying to protect my family.”

“sarah isn’t a kid anymore, you gotta let her protect herself.” you say softly. “besides, wheezie seeing you all beat up and bloodied isn’t-”

“it was only because it was two against one.” rafe counters.

“baby.” you shake your head. “you’re missing the point. you have no proof that they’re doing anything. trust sarah, alright? i’ll talk to her later.”

“what would we do without you.” rafe smiles, cringing slightly when it stretches his lip, but it doesn't stop him from pressing his mouth against yours, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“you deserve the cameron last name more than sarah does.” rafe says, holding you tight against him, feeling your hands shaking slightly. “gonna marry you one day.”

“alright, buddy.” you giggle, making rafe roll his eyes as you pull away. he loves to talk about your future together despite still being so young. you can’t say you haven’t spent time imagining it yourself. “im gonna go talk to wheeze.”

“okay.” rafe gives you another kiss before watching you walk away.

you walk softly up the stairs, tapping your knuckles against wheezies door before opening it up.

“hey, everyone is okay.” you say softly, seeing her sitting on her bed, phone in hand, no doubt scrolling to distract from anything she’s feeling.

“i’m fine.” wheezie shakes her head. she may look fine, but you can see the look in her eyes. she’s just as shaken as you are, if not more.

“it’s okay to not be, though.” you sit down on the bed next to her. “you saw your brother getting beat up, you’re allowed to not be okay with seeing that.”

“its just…” wheezie sighs. “sarah has been so different lately since she started hanging out with john b. she even lied to me the other day.”

“im sorry, wheezie girl.” you wrap her in a tight hug. “your sister loves you. she’s just a teenager, going through a rebellious phase of life. she doesn’t realize that her actions have consequences and can hurt the people she loves.”

“will you talk to her?” wheezie asks. “you always know what to say.”

“of course.” you nod, pulling away from the hug, forcing a smile on your face. “but hey, let’s go get our shopping bags.”

“okay.” wheezie manages a smile.

you walk downstairs to see rafe has already brought everything in from the car, placing it all throughout the front entrance.

you smile as wheezie instantly goes for the sephora bags as you wrap your arms around rafe, pressing your head against his chest.

“its all gonna be alright.” you tell him.

“as long as you’re with me, you’re right.” rafe presses a kiss to the top of your head, his eyes bulging when he sees the dress wheezie pulls out.

“you are not wearing that-” he begins to argue, finger wagging just like his dad would.

“it’s not for me, its for y/n!” wheezie argues.

“oh.” rafe looks down at you, noting the blush spread across your cheeks. “well, you can wear that but only for me.”

“rafe!” you squeal while wheezie makes a grossed out face.

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @rafeyslove @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid @juniebugg @magicalyoura @cokepewpsii @mysticallystilinski @luvdella @aerangi @vogueprincess @auryyz @raysmayhem-72 @thestarlithideout @marvelfanfics1recs @rafesgiirl @ditzyzombiesblog @chiaraanatra @tobiaslut @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie @drewsephrry

955 notes · View notes

goldfades · 4 months

Text

★ THE HARD DECISIONS LEAD TO THE GREATEST REWARDS ─── prologue

─ pairing | paige bueckers x fem!reader

─ word count | 2.4k words

─ warnings | unedited, some angst, coach misunderstandings and the feeling of being alienated, transfer-talk, nothing else? little r and p content but this is just the foundation, there will be a lot more coming!

─ ev's notes | as you guys know (OBVIOUSLY) my inbox is open for thoughts on this series and i'd love to know what you think so far, and maybe ideas for future chapters or even the plot itself since i don't have everything figured out just yet. anyways, hope you enjoy this prologue! ily all! mwah mwah

⇨ missing out on updates? check out the masterlist for my series!

May 2022

In a surprising turn of events, collegiate basketball powerhouse UConn has just secured a major coup with the addition of Y/N L/N to their roster. Y/N, once hailed as one of the brightest prospects in the 2021 recruiting class, has announced her decision to transfer from Arizona to UConn.

The news of Y/N's transfer from Arizona to UConn has sent shockwaves through the community, sparking speculation and excitement about the impact she will have on her new team. The timing of Y/N's decision, coming just weeks after the Wildcat's loss to UConn in the NCAA tournament, has led some to speculate about the impact of that defeat on her choice to transfer.

At UConn, Y/N will join a storied basketball program led by legendary coach Geno Auriemma. The Huskies, known for their tradition of excellence and strong team culture, offer Y/N the opportunity for a fresh start and a chance to rediscover her passion for the game.

"We're thrilled to welcome Y/N to the UConn family," says head coach Geno Auriemma. "She's a dynamic player with a bright future ahead of her, and we can't wait to see what she brings to the team."

──

March 2022

The buzzer echoed throughout the court and the UConn girls cheered loudly as they ran up to their teammates on the bench. You felt a lump form in your throat as you swallowed back the tears, your emotions threatening to overwhelm you.

Slumping onto the bench, you buried your face in your hands, the sting of tears threatening to overwhelm you. It wasn't just about the loss, though that certainly stung ─ it was the culmination of months of frustration, of feeling like you were fighting an uphill battle with no end in sight.

You had come to the U of A with high hopes and big dreams, but somewhere along the way, it had all started to unravel. Your coach, once a source of inspiration, now felt like an obstacle standing in the way of your growth. And the teammates, once friends and supposed allies, now seemed more like strangers, each focused solely on their own ambitions.

Inside the locker room, the atmosphere was heavy. Players sat in silence, their faces reflecting a mixture of disappointment and frustration. Coach Johnson's voice cut through the silence, his words measured and deliberate as he addressed the team.

"Look, we gave it our all out there," he began, his tone firm. "But sometimes, the game just doesn't go our way. That's fine, there's always next year and we'll come back strong. Practice is still on for tomorrow morning, 5am to 9am"

Coach Johnson's announcement of another early morning practice felt like a punch to the gut. It was a reminder of everything that had gone wrong, of the sacrifices you had made in pursuit of a dream that no longer felt like your own.

As your teammates exchanged weary glances, you felt a surge of frustration rising within you. Was this all there was to it? Endless hours of practice, sacrifices made in pursuit of a goal that felt increasingly out of reach?

As the team dispersed, heading back to their dorms and apartments, you lingered in the locker room, the weight of the decision you had been wrestling with growing heavier with each passing moment. It wasn't just about one tough loss or a grueling practice schedule ─ it was about reclaiming your sense of purpose, your love for the game that had once been your escape.

"Fuck," you grumbled as you felt the tears fall. You sniffled as you got up from the bench, reaching for your backpack as you began walking out of the locker-room.

You heard the court doors open and some laughter, you held your breath as you ignored the annoyance that filled your stomach. You focused on your feet as you walked, not really watching where you were heading until─you collided with someone, jolting you out of your reverie.

"Oh shit, my bad," the blonde's voice echoed as she glanced at her teammates, giving you a thin lipped smile as she recognized you from the game. She was wearing a UConn jersey as she steadied you with a hand on your shoulder. "Sorry,"

You nodded quickly, wiping your eyes and trying to compose yourself. "You're good," you muttered, avoiding her gaze.

The blonde hesitated for a moment before offering a genuine smile. "Hey, you're a good player. We were all impressed out there. Keep your head up."

You managed a small smile in return. "Thanks."

As she rejoined her teammates and they disappeared down the hallway, you felt a strange mixture of emotions ─ regret for the loss, but also a flicker of hope from her unexpected kindness.

──

"What are you suggesting?" You asked as you met Coach Lindsay's gaze, your expression confused as she sighed ─ you knew what she was suggesting. "A transfer?"

Lindsay nodded, her expression somber. "I hate to say it, Y/N, but I think it might be the best option for you," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "It's clear that things haven't been working out here at Arizona. The coach, the team dynamic and now the whole Alyssa thing... it's all been weighing you down."

You let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through your hair. The idea of transferring had been lingering in the back of your mind for weeks now, but hearing it spoken aloud made it feel all too real.

"I just don't know if I can do it," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I've put so much into this program. Leaving feels like admitting defeat."

Lindsay reached out and placed a hand on your shoulder, her touch reassuring. "It's not about admitting defeat, Y/N. It's about taking control of your own happiness. You deserve to be somewhere where you can thrive, where you can be supported and valued for who you are."

Her words struck a chord deep within you. For too long, you had allowed yourself to be consumed by the expectations of others, sacrificing your own well-being in pursuit of a dream that no longer felt attainable.

Lindsay hesitated for a moment before speaking. "I'm not supposed to say anything but I've heard talk about UConn being interested in you. They've got a great program, and Coach Geno is one of the best. All you have to do is agree and just trust in the process, babe."

"UConn?" you repeated, the word feeling foreign yet oddly enticing on your tongue.

Lindsay nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Yeah. I mean, nothing's set in stone, but it could be worth exploring. Just think about it, Y/N. You will get drafted to the WNBA if you are at a powerhouse like UConn, especially with your talent."

You couldn't believe it ─ your own assistant coach was telling you to transfer. Was your situation at Arizona truly as bad as Lindsay seemed to suggest? You glanced around the locker room, the familiar sights and sounds suddenly feeling suffocating. Had it really come to this? Were things truly as toxic as they seemed, or were you just overreacting?

As you thought about her words, memories of the past few months flooded your mind ─ the grueling practices, the weird relationships (if you could even call them that) with teammates, the constant pressure to perform. Each moment felt like a weight dragging you down, sapping away your passion and drive.

And yet, amidst the uncertainty, there was a glimmer of hope. The possibility of a fresh start at UConn, of rediscovering your love for the game and reaching your full potential felt right.

Lindsay's voice broke through your thoughts, pulling you back to the present. "I know it's a lot to take in, Y/N. But sometimes, the hardest decisions lead to the greatest rewards. Just trust in yourself and follow your heart."

"Maybe you're right," you admitted, the words feeling like a weight lifted from your shoulders. "Maybe it's time for a change."

Lindsay smiled, her eyes shining with pride. "I'm proud of you, Y/N. It takes courage to admit when something isn't working and to take steps to change it. Whatever you decide, just know that I'll be here to support you every step of the way."

🚨 ESPN | BREAKING: Top Prospect Y/N L/N Commits to UConn Transfer 🚨 Y/N L/N, widely regarded as one of the most promising players in the 2021 recruiting class, joins UConn with high expectations. With UConn's storied basketball program and renowned head coach Geno Auriemma at the helm, Y/N's transfer promises to shake up the landscape of women's college basketball.

You glanced down at the notification on your phone, a nervous knot forming in the pit of your stomach. The news of your transfer had spread like wildfire, and now, seeing it plastered across the screen of your phone, it felt all too real.

You took a deep breath, reminding yourself of the reasons behind your decision to transfer. The toxic atmosphere at Arizona, the strained relationships with teammates, the relentless pressure from coaches ─ it had all taken its toll, slowly suffocating your love for the game.

But now, with the opportunity to join UConn, you felt a flicker of hope reignite within you. Here was a chance for a fresh start, a chance to rediscover your passion for basketball and thrive in an environment where your talents would be appreciated and nurtured.

──

"Okay, listen up!" Coach Geno's voice echoed throughout the room, earning the attention of the girls on the team. You stood by the shorter man and somehow, you still felt small underneath his towering presence.

"As you all know," Coach Geno continued, his eyes scanning the faces of each player, "we've got a new addition to the team. Y/N, I want you to know that you're not just joining a team here at UConn ─ you're joining a family. We look out for each other, we support each other, and we push each other to be the best we can be."

"You guys all already know who she is, I know you did your research." His lips quirked up into a small smile as the girls exchanged amused glances within the team. A ripple of laughter spread through the room at his remark, breaking the tension and easing the nerves that had been swirling in your stomach.

"As for you, Y/N," Coach Geno continued, turning his attention back to you, "I want you to know that we're thrilled to have you here. Your talent speaks for itself, but what's even more important is your commitment to the team and your willingness to work hard."

As Coach Geno's words sank in, you couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement mixed with a hint of nervousness. Being welcomed into the UConn family by none other than Coach Geno himself was an honor beyond words.

With Coach Geno's words echoing in your mind, you joined your teammates in a huddle, ready to embark on this new chapter of your life. And as the team broke apart with a chant, you couldn't help but feel a surge of anticipation for the season ahead.

──

"And uh, don't eat Azzi's protein bars. She gets angry when she doesn't get her gainz," Paige remarked as Azzi sent her a glare. Everyone at the table giggled at that as you nodded, glancing toward Azzi.

Azzi sighed. "I think that's like common courtesy, P. Y/N knows better than that,"

"Of course, Azzi. I'll make sure to steer clear of your protein bars," you replied with a playful grin, earning a relieved smile from Azzi in return.

"What else..." Paige hummed as she ate chewed on her food, glancing around the table.

"Oh wait, I got one. If Coach tells you to run suicides, just do them without complaining," Aaliyah chimed in, her tone teasing but with a hint of seriousness.

"And make sure you hydrate," Nika added with a smirk, raising her water bottle in emphasis. "Especially during those conditioning drills Coach loves to throw at us."

As laughter erupted around the table, you couldn't help but feel a sense of camaraderie and belonging among your new teammates. "Of course, of course."

"And don't come to practice hungover, Coach will notice and he'll force everyone to run laps," Paige added as she shivered, earning a laugh from Aubrey. "Better for everyone if you just skip,"

"I think you need that advice more than anyone, Paige," Aubrey added as she nudged Paige playfully, eliciting more laughter from the group.

Paige mock-glared at Aubrey before joining in the laughter herself. "Hey, I've learned my lesson the hard way. Trust me, nobody wants to run laps hungover. I'm tryna make sure she doesn't get too carried away, she's from U of A, that's like party central."

You shrugged, a smile playing on your lips. "She's not wrong, if there's one thing I'll miss it'll be the insane parties at Kappa Sigma."

"Ooh, so you're a frat girly?" Aaliyah teased, raising an eyebrow playfully as she leaned in with interest.

You laughed, shaking your head. "Not exactly. Frat boys aren't really my thing," you smiled as you looked down at your plate. "Neither are guys, really."

Paige hummed in response as she smirked, raising her cup in a mock toast as Aaliyah's eyebrows shot up in surprise, but her expression quickly softened into understanding. "Ah, got it. Well, good thing UConn has plenty of other things to offer besides frat parties."

"Yeah, like winning championships," Nika chimed in with a grin, nudging you playfully. "And having the best teammates in the world," she continued, earning a chorus of laughs and "awws".

"Look at Nika getting all sappy," Paige mocked as Nika sent her a glare, earning another round of laughter from the table.

Nika rolled her eyes but couldn't hide the smile tugging at her lips. "Okay, shut up Paige,"

"No, you first."

"I asked first, Paige."

"I don't care, shut up."

"No, you-"

"Okay, that's enough." Azzi sent you a thin-lipped smile as you laughed, enjoying the playful banter between Paige and Nika.

You felt yourself settle into the team more and more with each passing moment, the laughter and camaraderie of your teammates easing any lingering nerves or doubts. As you listened to their stories and shared your own, you couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging wash over you.

These were your teammates, your friends, your family away from home. And as you laughed and joked with them, you knew that you had found a place where you truly belonged.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

#paige bueckers x reader #paige buckets #paige bueckers #paige bueckers fanfiction #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers headcannons #paige bueckers fic #uconn #uconn huskies #uconn wbb #paige bueckers fluff #uconn wbb x reader #uconn women’s basketball #wcbb x reader #wbb x reader #ncaa wbb #ncaaw

433 notes · View notes

ilongfor-the-arts · 1 year

Note

Just read the museum marquis fic and I love it. I wonder what would a fanfic where the marquis de gramont met a ballerina reader?

Poetry in Motion

Pairing: Marquis de Gramont x fem! Reader

Warnings: mild language

Summary: A tall and handsome man has been watching you preform for a while. What will happen when he finally chooses to introduce himself?

Word Count: 2.5k

I got multiple reqs for this! So, here ya go! Enjoy!

“You’re late Y/N!”

I dashed into the locker room, tossing my bag atop the dressing room counter.

“I know! I know! I’m really sorry! My apartment door wouldn’t lock and there was traffic and then-”

My director held up a hand, silencing me.

“I don’t care. Please-just, be ready to go by showtime.”

I nodded vigorously.

“Yes, yes, of course. I will be ready, I promise.”

She quickly turned on her heels and began walking in the opposite direction. Her blue dress swayed gently as the dancers rushed around her. Her spine was straight, her posture rigid.

I don’t blame her. I'm just as nervous as everyone else to see how this performance goes. Unfortunately, I'm a dancer, so rigid posture isn't ideal. I'm forced to keep my anxiety bottled up inside my head.

“Y/N.”

My friend called my name, jolting me from my trance. She was fully dressed, with a full face of makeup. She stared at me, completely stunned.

“Y/N, you better hurry! Everyone else is ready to go!”

I moved rapidly, quickly opening my makeup bag, praying I had enough time.

“What took you so long?”

I slapped my palms against the table, annoyed.

“Oh, Clara, it’s been such an aggravating day.”

I stared at my reflection, watching as the foundation completely coated my face.

“Do tell.”

I took out my eye makeup.

“Well, first my apartment wouldn’t lock.”

I closed one eye and applied eyeshadow as quickly as I could.

“My key wouldn’t work! And of course I couldn’t just leave my apartment unlocked so I had to bother my neighbor to get the spare key I gave her.”

I moved on to the other eye.

“Then there was so much traffic. Then I couldn’t find a good parking spot because I got here so late. Then I had to walk almost six blocks.”

My eye makeup looked... alright. Sure, if I had an extra hour, I could make it look fantastic. But, due to my unfortunate situation, I had to settle for average.

“Wow girl, that’s rough. I’m sorry.”

I pulled out my blush.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I think that cute guy will be here tonight.”

I scoffed loudly.

“He’s always here. If he goes four days without seeing a ballet, just assume he’s dead.”

Oh my goodness, that blush color was really clashing with my eyeshadow. Shit! I didn't have time to remove it and start over. Perhaps I could just add another color to my eyes, creating a strange hybrid color that would blend well with the blush.

“I don’t know Y/N. I’ve been here longer than you, and he only started going regularly once you got here.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Yeah, right. It’s probably just a coincidence. I doubt he’d spend a shit ton of money on fancy ballet tickets just to see some pretty girl dance.”

I watched Clara shrug from the corner of my eye.

“I dunno. He always dresses like he’s ready to meet the queen, and he sits in a box. He doesn’t seem short on funds. He definitely could be the type to buy ballet tickets just to admire you.”

Okay, the blush and eyeshadow looked fine. I could handle "fine." I could work with "fine.”

“I don’t know Clara. You know, when you watch a performance, faces and names blend together because there are so many people on stage. I doubt he picked me out of the crowd and decided I was going to become the object of his affection.”

I put on some red lipstick, trying not to be distracted by the fact that all the dancers I saw in the mirror were fully prepared.

“Besides, a handsome man like that?... he probably has a girlfriend.”

Clara perked up.

“Oh, so you admit you think he’s handsome.”

I rolled my eyes for a second time.

“I mean, come on Clara, look at him!”

Clara let out a loud and obnoxious laugh. My face turned hot. Thankfully, the makeup covered most of the natural pink that had begun to appear on my cheeks.

“Oh my God you have a little crush on him, don’t you!”

I held up my hands in defense.

“I am not having this conversation right now!”

I stood, rushing over to the costume rack.

“I’ve never seen him with a girl Y/N! I think he’s single and ready to mingle!”

Clara’s loud voice drew some attention. I swiveled on my heels and placed a finger to my lips.

“Sh!”

The show was finished, and the final bows were taken.

The roar of the crowd washed over me like a wave. I was moved to know that they were all applauding for this performance. As the entire company gathered for one final bow, I observed the crowd's faces contort into bright smiles. I felt moved knowing that at least one person in the audience was thinking about what a wonderful job I did tonight.

I hoped it was the man whose appearance I had grown accustomed to over the past few weeks.

The gold theater sparkled. The red seats gradually vanished as people rose to pay their respects to the performers.

I was unable to avoid glancing around at the various people in the crowd. I started in the box seats, hoping to spot a tall man with a penchant for fashion.

No luck.

My gaze was drawn to the floor seats. I scanned them all as quickly as I could. Maybe he sat closer? If he truly came to see me, it wouldn't hurt to get the best view possible in the front row.

No luck.

I'm not sure why I was so desperate for him to be here. Nonetheless, I felt my heart sink slightly as I considered the possibility that he missed tonight's performance.

We finished with a company bow. We waved goodbye, and quickly scattered off the stage.

“Y/N!”

Clara exclaimed as we walked back to the dressing rooms.

“You did so well! Jesus, I thought for sure you’d be all scattered from coming in late, but you really pulled it off well!”

I didn't notice her hands cutting through the air as she spoke. I didn't even bother looking at her. I kept my head down, stuffing various cosmetics into my black backpack.

“Thanks Clara.”

I said flatly.

“Alright, what’s going on? Who’s got you bummed?”

I grit my teeth.

“He’s not here tonight.”

Clara leaned in.

“What did you say?”

“I said he’s not here tonight!”

I snapped involuntarily. Clara retreated.

“Woah woah, how do you know this?”

“I didn’t see him in the crowd.”

Clara furrowed her brow.

“Come on Y/N, there’s thousands of people in that crowd! There’s no way you could’ve checked every seat for him!”

My lips were pursed. Clara wrapped her hands around my shoulders, soothing me. She leaned into my ear, lowering her voice to a whisper.

“I bet he showed up tonight. And if he didn’t, it was his loss entirely.”

The cold Paris air bit at my exposed skin. The chill penetrated my tank top, chilling me to the bone. I drew the sides of my peacoat together, attempting to conceal my torso and thighs from the wind.

I began to stroll, trying to enjoy the lovely Paris evening despite the fact that so much was less than ideal.

After about thirty paces, I was struck by an uneasy sense that someone was watching me. I initially ignored it. There were numerous high-rise apartment buildings. I'm sure that feeling came from being a window away from someone's living space, and the possibility that someone was watching me inadvertently.

I couldn't shake the feeling even after another thirty paces. The buildings in this particular neighborhood were completely dark. That is, everyone was sleeping, and if anyone was watching me, it probably would go unnoticed by bystanders.

I took a peek over my shoulder to ensure my intuition was correct.

About thirty feet behind me was a tall, lanky man in a black coat.

Alright, probably just a coincidence-

Wait.

I did a double take.

Holy shit.

It was the guy from the ballet!

This all is just one big coincidence.

I kept my head down, trying to maintain my composure.

His footsteps became audible. I focused on them, noticing that they were becoming slightly louder with every step.

Shit.

Shit!

God, this guy is a total creep! How could I be so stupid?!

I’m about to get totally kidnapped!

I started to move faster, trying to appear calm despite being aware that my heart was pounding in my ears. My blood rushed to my heart, leaving my face pale and cold.

God, he’s getting closer!

Jesus my stomach is in knots!

“Don’t look so frightened, darling.”

The man’s velvety accent pierced the air like a knife. My heart jumped.

I’m fucked.

“Really, I just want to talk with you.”

No way in hell was I stopping. My calves burned. My eyes were wide. My hands trembled within my pockets.

My chest came into contact with something solid. I stumbled back, looking up.

Oh my goodness, he was right in front of me.

How did he get there without me hearing?

The heat left my body.

I stood, wide eyed and perplexed.

The man's neutral gaze softened as he noticed my anxiety.

“I am very sorry to have frightened you, madame. I am simply a fan wishing to pay my respects.”

He placed a hand on his chest.

“I promise, I mean no harm. There is no reason to be frightened.”

He was considerably taller than me. In two seconds, he could pick me up and throw me into the back of a shady white van.

Nonetheless, his luxurious accent and courteous eyes made me believe he was telling the truth. So I allowed myself to relax ever so slightly.

“Did you come and see the show tonight?”

A smirk played on the corners of his lips.

“But of course. It would be foolish of me to disregard the opportunity to observe such talent.”

Wow, I'm going to give credit where credit is due. He’s a smooth talker. He speaks with such elegance. I'm unable to ignore his words. With bated breath, I await each sentence.

“Well, that is very kind of you to say.”

He slipped his hands into the pockets of his black overcoat, shrugging nonchalantly.

“I only convey the complete truth. In my lifetime, I have seen hundreds of ballets, operas, and plays. It is uncommon to find such a passion for the arts in the hearts of the prefromers. Few people allow creativity to encompass every aspect of them. But, I have noticed fire within you.”

He glanced deeply into my eyes, as if he wanted to capture some of the "fire" within me and preserve it for himself.

“I can tell by the way you dance and command the stage.”

The gentle breeze rustled the end of his overcoat as his pale eyes shone in the pale moonlight. He exuded a sense of mystery that beckoned me to embrace the unknown.

“Your blood runs red with creativity.”

He came to a halt, his piercing gaze catching my lips before darting back to my eyes.

“And, your beauty is unmatched.”

Forget about my face being cold; it was now scorching hot. I just hope I kept enough blush on my cheeks to hide the natural pink.

He extends his leg, the buckle of his pricey loafer catching the moonlight. He steps closer, the wonderful aroma of whiskey and bergamot wafting into my nose. The scent cloud muffles my brain, making me dizzy with anticipation.

“How long have you been dancing for?”

I raise my eyebrows.

“Oh, well, my entire life. I started the moment I could walk and I’ve pretty much been in the dance studio everyday since.”

The enigmatic man nodded, pleased with my response. I took my hands from my pockets, as they were sweating despite the chill.

“And… Do you enjoy it?”

I nodded vigorously.

“Yes, I remember, um-.”

I took a deep breath, careful not to trip over my words and reveal that my heart was racing.

“I remember my first official dance class. I was- about four or five.”

I swallowed, a lump forming in my throat.

“All the kids were complaining. I mean, y’know, at that age it basically is just an excuse for the parents to get their obnoxious kids out of the house.”

He chuckled.

Yes!

“But I never complained, not once. I loved it from the start. And, it’s completely consumed my life since then.”

He took another step forward. The distance between us was almost non-existent now. To meet his gaze, I had to almost completely crane my neck back.

“I can tell. You don’t just dance, you float over the stage. It really is beautiful to watch.”

His voice dropped to a sultry whisper.

“You are beautiful to watch.”

My stomach flipped.

My breath caught in my throat as he cupped my face with his hand. His grip was gentle, as if he were coddling a baby bird.

My mind was empty, a void waiting to be filled by him.

He exhaled deeply, a breath fanning over my face. I instinctively leaned into him, craving his warmth, craving his scent, craving…

Him.

He ran his calloused thumb along my cheekbone. My face was burning. I knew he could feel it beneath his palm.

He grinned.

“You have a very bright future in the arts. Paris is only the beginning.”

I could sense the tension rising. I was on the edge of my seat, waiting for something magnificent to unfold.

A hug?

A proclamation of love?

A kiss?

“I hope and pray that you will allow me to be an integral component of your bright future.”

He slipped something into my empty pocket sneakily. He smiled broadly. My heart skipped a beat. His smile was enticing, so simple yet so effective.

“Call me, Ma chère.”

He took a step back, turned, and began to stroll away. My shoulders loosened. My chest gave way. My cheeks had lost their warmth. The tension had been released.

I could breathe.

I could think.

“Wait!”

I shouted. He glanced over his shoulder.

His figure looked very intriguing. Most of his ridges and curves were hidden by his long coat. It enticed one to venture into uncharted territories.

“What’s your name?”

He scoffed.

“When you call, I will tell you.”

1K notes · View notes