#or my attempt at a rose dress

[s2pdoktopus]

Boudicca in rose dress

[aberooski]

Some sketches of my favorite girl 🥰

[wonryllis]

✶ 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘𝒟𝐎𝐋𝐋? RICH BOY ENHYPEN PINNING AFTER YOU.

目录──────𝗔𝗟𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗡𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗩𝗘𝗟𝗬, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖺𝗆𝗈𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌.

𝓉𝗵𝗲 𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗟𝗗 𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗘 ⋅ enhypen showing that you're not just one of the girls. wordcount total 2882 (approx 0.4k each) ⭑ CONTAINS— female!reader, fluff, suggestive, lots of swearing. % strongly recommend listening to ›› the respective songs while reading! jungwon's is inspired by ␥ kavin and kaning. ( THE ARCHIVE? ) PLS REBLOG ><

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚

ぃ ⏤ now playing. HELLGIRL BY ARI ABDUL

"shit. you gotta wear this one, angel," heeseung groans in satisfaction, ignorant and indifferent to the fact that all the store employees could hear him, someone who never brings over girls to places like these, going insane over one. and the fact that you were unable to wrap your head around this situation just yet.

it was surreal and it was nerve wrecking. but heeseung was adamant that he needed you.

needed you to dress so fucking gorgeous and stand by his side as his date for the night while he paraded around greeting his parents' guests. showing them that he is capable of being committed by bringing along a partner for the first time ever. that's what he tells you—

"is this really fine?" you ask again, hands dusting over the sleek satin hugging your skin in a way that it tickled. heeseung stands up and strides overs to where you stand, arms sliding around your waist to pull you against him. "it's more than fine, absolutely stunning," leaning into your neck to leave kisses, "and so hot," right infront of everyone, no one daring to say a word to him, except you.

you who has been an exception to all his rules, you who has made him want to do things he has never wanted to before. you who has swept him off his feet.

you push against his chest in an attempt to stop him,"we'll be late, should go now," he hums in a low growl, lips nipping right against your ear before he pulls away with much exasperation almost unsated. clicking his tongue in annoyance for the staff to hurry the billing once he's done admiring you. unable to stand that anyone beside him see you dressed so pretty.

"just smile and follow my lead," heeseung tells you once you arrive at the venue. giving you an encouraging look as he instructs the valet to wait until you seem calm enough to step out. that's what he tells you— heart eyes and odd actions speaking for themselves. his hands find your waist when you finally walk up the stairs, breath shaky as you pass the entrance.

"relax angel, 'm right here, we can leave whenever you want," he kisses the side of your head, lips lightly touching your styled hair. never caring about who's looking and who's thinking what. if only you knew it too.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚

ぃ ⏤ now playing. STAY BY ARI ABDUL

"look behind you, princess," the voice incoming from your phone suddenly sounds too loud, paired with faint footsteps coming to a halt. jay's lips break into a wide smile when you turn around in an instant to look at him. your eyes following his hands holding an enormous bouquet of red roses, before you notice anything else.

before you notice the want in his eyes. the want for you.

"jay? i thought you were in— " you speak into the phone, eyes locked with his, but before you can finish he hangs up the call. approaching you with quick steps and immediately pulling you into a kiss. one that's short but deep enough to convey his feelings. "berlin? yeah, but i flew back for you," he breathes out against your lips.

"why?" "you know why love," his fingers twirl the hair falling into face, tucking them away and cupping your cheek as he gives you a smile before stepping away.

he waits for you to say something, to address his feelings but like always you avoid it and like always jay lets you. alas there will come a time when you would no longer be able to deny his love, so until then he will continue to show you all ways you own his heart in. his forever princess."what about that conference you were going to attend with your dad?" you ask, accepting his bouquet.

watching him with a soft giggle as he struggles to pull out a single rose and place it behind your ear. "don't worry about it," in a reassuring tone he leads you to his car. teasing you of a surprise each time you question where you are headed.

asking you to have your eyes closed while he leads you to the rooftop of a high-rise building owned by his family, illuminated by pretty lights and flowery wreaths, and a firework show worth a million.

all just for you.

to pose a smile on your face and to be the one to put it. to be the reason of your happiness and to be the person beside you in your best memories,"happy new year, princess," jay whispers into you ear as you open your eyes to see all of it. "jay this—" you gasp in a trance, gaze hooked on the sky while his is fixated in the way the fireworks shine against your pretty orbs and the gloss on your lips,"it's all for you,"

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡

ぃ ⏤ now playing. MEDDLE ABOUT BY CHASE ATLANTIC

"you owe me. you can't keep avoiding me forever, doll," jake chuckles, noticing how you turn the other way after catching a glimpse of him. finding it adorable how you do everything you can to not cross paths with him.

leaving him no choice but to wait for you outside your university, leaning against his black lykan hypersport; attracting unwanted attention while his eyes only look for your cute panicked figure amidst the crowd.

"i told you it was a mistake—" you refute, throwing a glare at his smug face as he drives right beside you, following your every step, nonchalant about all the stares you both get as long as you agree to him taking you out. "get in the car," or the other way round, he's fine with both. frustrated and knowing you'd never be able to escape him, you decide to give in.

"you owe me lunch," jake grins as his eyes watch you get into the passenger seat just like the passenger princess you are.

his passenger princess. first and last in his beloved car.

"jake this— isn't this too—" your heart skips beats at the sight of the dock and the luxury cruise restaurant closing in, scared and nervous about how much you'd have to spend but jake just shushes you. getting out the car first and coming over to open the door for you; one hand holding yours and the other cushioning your head as you step out.

"just let me have your time and i'll let you off of staining my prada with coffee," he begs, afraid you'd walk out of here if he were to tell you the real reason. if he were to tell you that you have his heart and no matter what you do his feelings are not changing. if he were to tell you he wanted to take you out to all these places and spoil you rotten and occupy your mind like you occupy his.

if he were to tell you it was indeed not your fault for he bumped into you on purpose to find an excuse to talk to you.

"but—" jake shushes you again, fingers rubbing against your lips as he shakes his head before pulling out the chair for you and helping you sit properly,"don't think too much doll, just do as i say, please?" planning to keep you busy until the sun goes down so he can take you to for a ride on his yacht.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗛𝗢𝗢𝗡

ぃ ⏤ now playing. BABYDOLL BY ARI ABDUL

"fuck baby, don't cry like that," sunghoon panics, his fingers grazing under your eyes to gently wipe the tears. afraid if he's not careful enough, he'll break you. "as much as i love the way you look so pretty like this, tears are not for someone like you," he has no idea how to soothe your frantically crying figure, slouched in the passenger seat against the expensive leather of his aston martin.

his hands fumble around in an attempt to think of ways he could just make you feel better and smile for him. those adorable crinkle of your eyes that have him whipped.

fuming each time he thinks of the moron who took that opportunity away from him by making you sad. he swears if he finds him, he'll beat the living daylights out of him. remind him not to linger anywhere around his girl.

sunghoon softly cups your cheek in his palm and leans in to kiss you, lips moving slow and sensual, "forget him, let me make you happy," he whispers into your mouth once he pulls away, foreheads touching and hands caressing your face lovingly. he makes sure your belt is secured before driving off to one of the luxury malls in the city, ones where you need to be of a certain level to enter.

a place you probably could never have the chance to enter if it weren't for him.

"my princess gotta shop her sadness out, hmm?" sunghoon coos as he stops outside the building, watching you gape in surprise, surprised himself that you are yet to realize just how much you mean to him.

"come on, i'll buy you whatever you lay your eyes on," he insists before you have the chance to deny him.

his hands rest at the back of your waist, leading you inside after handing his keys to the valet. dropping a soft kiss on your temple when you watch his vip card being inspected with a nervous breath of how elite this place has to be.

and knowing how new you must feel to all this, sunghoon pulls you closer with the intention of making it known that this is how it's gonna be from now, "get used to it, baby," you're not his yet but he's gonna treat you like you are. after all it's only a matter of time before it happens.

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗪𝗢𝗢

ぃ ⏤ now playing. GOOD GIRL BY THOMAS LAROSA

"good girl, you did a great job," sunoo pats your head teasingly amused at the confusion adorning your features. "sunoo, what were you doing there! you don't even have marketing?" the way you close in, demanding an explanation assures him that you indeed were affect by his presence, by the eye contact he held with you the entire time you were giving your presentation.

walking into the lecture hall in the middle of it as if he owned the place and taking a seat at a spot that directly put him in your line of sight. smirking, raising his brows and pushing his tongue against his cheeks to distract and annoy you.

"would you believe me if i said i came to see you?" his hands took ahold of your wrists playing with your fingers as he waited for you to answer.

"liar," you whisper, suddenly conscious of the implication behind his words and it makes him chuckle, of course what did he expect? you're hard to get, and perhaps that's the reason he feels so attracted, almost crazy over you.

like something he has to have, someone he has to have.

he takes a step closer, his varsity hat poking against the top of your head as his eyes bore into yours just the way they did inside earlier,"see? what do you want me to say then?" he whispers back, tone suddenly changing into a serious one. "you can't just enter any class like that," your innocent claim goes through him from one ear and falls through the other. how naive you are.

"i can if it's my dad's university," he can't help but chuckle at the expression on your face when you put the pieces together and realize it. all those times you came across him in places with strict attendance, it all made sense now.

"as adorably as you scold me, you're gonna see me everywhere you go," sunoo warns, leaning in impossibly close, lips hovering over yours,"you should stop fooling yourself baby,"

his hands move from your wrists to rest against the wall behind, voice dropping an octave,"and you should stop fooling around just because you can," you bite back, pressing your palm into his chest to push him back. "i'm fooling around because i want you, and i will have you," "you—" "we have a party this weekend at our summer villa, come with me?"

𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡

ぃ ⏤ now playing. SINNERS BY ARI ABDUL AND THOMAS LAROSA

"jungwon? what are you doing here? are you okay?" it makes jungwon happy to see you worrying about him, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pant as he watches you walk around the counter to his figure by the door. finding his cerulean blue chevrolet corvette 2lz parked in his usual spot, and him still dressed in the armani and hermès set you saw him in an hour ago when he dropped you off at your uncle's flower shop.

"mhm, just wanted to see my pretty girl again," he grins cockily once you realize there's nothing wrong and he's just trying playing around like always.

albeit to jungwon, it's never been a play and you have never been a toy.

this has been his way of showing you that you're not just another girl he's chasing after; because yang jungwon has never chased as opposed to what you think. and to harbour such deep and honest feelings that compel him to do what he has never done, that should have given you the hint by now. perhaps he'll just have to try a tad bit harder.

"how do you wear this?" he struts inside, passing by you to the space behind the counter you previously stood at, dangling a lone apron by his pinky and raising his brows at you, waiting. "your clothes will get dirty!" your attempts to curb him fall through for jungwon's persistence to stay with you holds like a strong wall, incapable of budging.

"i don't really care," jungwon's hands loop around the strings in a way that has the apron falling off making you giggle as you give in and just step in to help him,"idiot, that's not how you do it," you mumble.

and all he can think of is how he wants to be your idiot.

"how does this look? i think it looks so pretty on you," he says, putting a messy wreath on your head. to jungwon there's always flowers blooming everywhere you go, sweet scent overtaking all his scenes believing that's how you intoxicated him.

you slap away his hands in a shy chuckle that he doesn't understand, did he say something wrong? not aware and quite literally clueless of his own effect. by the time the sun sets down, you're asleep with your head down on the counter, facing him. and jungwon admires the way you looks so pretty, prettier than any flower.

𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜

ぃ ⏤ now playing. STUCKINMYBRAIN BY CHASE ATLANTIC

"riki?" oh. you're here? riki looks up at the sound of your footsteps getting closer, halting a metre away from him, like you always do, not too close, not too far and it drives him crazy. "what are you doing here?" you ask, confused to find him waiting outside your mundane apartment building with his out of place red ferrari sf90.

"uh, you left this in the car last time," he fumbles out a dior liquid blush, clearly brand new and a shade you have never used before.

"that's not mine," giggling, you walk over to the other side, opening the passenger seat door to fish out the gloss you actually did leave and waving it in the air to show him,"this is mine richboy," the soft sounds of laughter, your teasing voice.

his favorite thing in the world as of late.

you who has him smitten with infatuation, unable to get you off his mind no matter how much he tries. you who never gives him the answer he wants but never pushes him away either. you who makes him feel like a pathetic loser, you who makes him want to try as many times as he can to win your heart.

"it's a gift," he quickly improvises, wanting you to accept it, of getting a chance to give you something. "you're gifting me a blush?" you question and it throws him off, blush?,"wait, it's not a lipgloss— i, i had no idea, i have never—" riki swears, he really had no clue,"bought makeup?" he nods and it makes you burst into a fit of laughter again. it warms his heart, leaning against his car and watching you with eyes that speak volumes of his feelings.

feelings that anyone could notice, anyone but you.

he lets you revel in his silly naivety, content to know you are not longer sad as you were a few days ago.

"now this suits you pretty little face," he says once you seem to calm down, bewildered at his sudden compliment while he walks over to you.

cupping your face and caressing your cheeks,"so pretty," mumbling under his breath, loud enought to reach your ears,"it's boring when you cry, baby," his lips hover over your own as both of your heartbeats pick up in sync, breath getting caught up at the shift in the atmosphere. "let's go on a drive, we'll get you a bunch of pretty glosses to wear for me,"

TAGLIST ( open. ) @kangseulgithegreat @s00buwu @lilyuwon @pockyyasii @nctislifue @ashtxrie @miniature-tragedy @jayujus @brachives @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly @eeunoia @nxzz-skz @shawnyle @potato0579 @enhastolemyheart @ro-diaries @aaa-sia @okwonyo @snoopypupp @enhabooks @jjunae @criminalyun

[etfrin]

⤷❝The Study | Coriolanus Snow❞ˎˊ-

⇢☾Warning: NSFW | riding, toxic relationship, arranged marriage, mentions of cheating (no actual cheating occurs), riding, dom sub undertones, degradation (he calls you a slut once), hair pulling, edging if you squint, crying, pinv sex, unprotected sex (wrap it dumbfucks), creampie, dry humping, clothed sex (you were still wearing a dress) | lmk if I forgot anything!

⇢☾Pairing: young president! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader

⇢☾Summary: A video of you flirting with an elitist goes viral and Snow calls you to his study to confront you about it and it ends up in sexy times ;)

⇢☾A/N: btw for those who doesn't get why Snow asked reader to mark him, it's to show the Capitol that despite rumors, they are actually very close. And uhmm I hope you guys like this!

< masterlist > < bc: @cafekitsune >

< tags: @roryzzz @stelleduarte @strengthandstay @skywalker1dream >

The marriage was a facade, a show for the Capitol that the president didn't stand alone. The people in the manor were the only people who knew how fake the marriage was. Some of the elite of the Capitol could also tell. People can fake everything but not love, never love.

You learned early on Snow wasn't capable of love. A lover wouldn't do half of the atrocities Snow committed as he got to power but he had never done anything to you. You didn't exist for him in the manor and he was always respectful when you were by his side.

It was manageable, the life you had, nobody could mistreat you, not as the First Lady of Panem. However mistreatment and flirting are very different things, and the people of Capitol aren't a stranger to wandering hands and lustful eyes.

You didn't think Coriolanus would mind that you sometimes let the hands linger. That you would bask in the attention you were so deprived of from your husband. You were proven wrong as a video of you and an elitist was going viral all over the Capitol.

You didn't cheat on Snow, but you were too close to the stranger. His hand on your waist and your smile too wide. Cheating or not, it wasn't any less inappropriate.

A remainder by your servant made you walk to the study in which Snow spent most of his time. You were wearing a knee-length white dress, something that clings to your curves. It was a desperate, pathetic attempt to distract Snow. A part of you knew it wouldn't work and would make your mistake more obvious but it was an attempt better than none.

You knocked at the door and you could hear him say come in. So you did. Your hands are behind your back, and your eyes look at the floor like it's the most interesting thing in the world.

“Do you know what you have done?” He asked, you still couldn't look up to meet his gaze. Your fingers fumble behind your back as you bite your inner cheek. You give him a nod.

“And what have you done?” He questioned, his voice like the calm before the storm. “I created unnecessary gossip that isn't good for your reputation,” you mummer.

“What else?” He said, his tone suspicious and waiting for the confirmation. That's when you look up at the most beautiful demon you have ever seen. He looked all glorious with his suit and hair slicked back. “I didn't cheat,” you said, firmly, your eyes fierce and reflecting the truth of your words.

When Snow didn't reply, you insisted again, “I. Didn't. Cheat. It's a line I will never cross, Coriolanus.” Again, he didn't say anything, instead, his gaze went up and down your body, his expression unreadable. You flushed from his stare, not sure if wearing this dress was the right move after all. The man had always surrounded himself with those stupid white roses and this was the symbol that you had noticed.

“Come and sit.” You begin to walk towards the chair only to be interrupted by his words, “No, not there, in my lap.” You freeze from his words, but your brain tells you to obey his every word.

You make your way to him, your heels clicking against the marble floor. Your hands are sweaty and your heart is in your throat. You reach him before you straddle him without a word being uttered. Your dress hitching up to your thighs. Your hands around his shoulders as you wait for further instructions from your husband.

“What do you think we should do to make the rumors go away?” He asked, his voice deep and so seductive. You weren't even sure he realized the effect his voice had on you. You let out a small gasp when his hands held your hips, cementing your place in his lap.

His hands were warm and perhaps maybe it was biased but you thought they would be ice cold. Instead, his palm laminated heat against the thin fiber of your dress making your skin warm. Your former flush turns into a deeper shade of red.

“We could…” you couldn't focus, how could you when he was touching you like this? When he was so close. He was never this close to you before. Ever. His touch reminded you of the fact that despite everything he is a man and your husband at that. A demon in human flesh.

“We could do more PR,” you mumbled. He raised an eyebrow at the suggestion. “I mean if we do it right, I am sure it will work,” you fumbled. He gives you a nod.

“Take off my shirt,” he demanded. Your eyes widen and you hesitate. “Do it or I’ll make you.” he threatened and you know not to take his words lightly. With shaky fingers, you unbutton his shirt. The process was slow, meticulously slow. His toned physique comes into complete view, making your breath hitch. Fuck, he was a Greek God of tragedy and sin.

“Mark me up,” he said, his tone emotionless. “What?” you questioned, surprised. “You think you’re acting innocent?” he sneered, “You heard what I said, my wife. It's because of your suggestion. Mark. Me. Up.”

You swallow down your nervousness and bring your lips forward to his cheek. You pressed a soft kiss there and felt him tense underneath you. You drag your lips to his jaw and nip the skin, the tip of your tongue soothing the small teeth mark as he lets out a grunt. It was music to you. A masterpiece of symphony and you needed more, so much more. Snow had you deprived for months and it's time to take.

Your lips continue to nip at his jaw, placing sloppy wet kisses as his breaths get heavy. You moved down to his neck, a moan leaving your lips as you attacked his skin with your teeth. Sucking onto his pulse point and moaning when the salty taste of his skin hits your taste buds. Your hand goes to his neck, tilting his head to give you more access. All the while he lets out quite controlled sounds. You licked his Adam's apple before wrapping your mouth around it to suck a purple bruise. Marking him up just as he wanted.

His hand on your waist gave you a firm squeeze which made you bite harder and made him hiss. You lean back panting, as you admire your artwork of teeth marks and red love bites. You pressed down into him and moaned as his hard bulge pressed right against your clothed cunt. Your panties were soaked by now. “Snow,” you whimper.

“Corio, call me Corio” he whispered. His eyes briefly turned to a white bouquet of roses before he met your gaze. You didn't think much of it and whispered, “Corio.”

“Corio,” you tried the name again on your tongue and watched his eyes darken. You leaned in, your lips brushing against his. “Let me kiss you. Let me make you my husband, please,” you whispered.

You waited for a verbal answer but all you got was another squeeze on your waist. You were desperate enough to take what you could get. You started by grinding against his bulge. The juices that made your panties soaked are now ruining his pants.

You let out a breathless moan as you gained delicious friction against your pussy but it wasn't enough. There's no hell and heaven for which this would be enough. You crashed your lips to his. The kiss was all carnage and desire. Uncoordinated, something so unlike Snow Corio that it made you moan into his mouth. Your hands are in his hair, pulling him closer. Your lips glide against each other perfectly. His tongue took over your mouth, not leaving any place unexplored, untouched by him.

You break the kiss with a gasp. Your hand going towards his pants to unzip. The motion stopped as Corio held your wrist and you looked up at him. “You’re my wife, you're my right,” he said, “but do you deserve it?”

It was more than a question, it was a promise waiting to be made, a bond waiting to be sealed. “I…” you begin to speak, you meet his eyes, sea blue you wanted to drown in, “Never again, Sn- Corio. Never again.” “Please,” you added for extra measure. You had his taste already, no one else could ever compare. He had to know that too because he gave you a sharp nod.

You get up from his lap, taking off your panties first, not bothering with the dress. You knew he liked it now, more than you thought so he would. You find your rightful place in his lap again, his pants and boxers past his knees.

His cock was hard and twitching, the length had an angry tip with its slit profusely leaking pre-cum. It looked painful and it was because of you. You. You wondered if you had power over him now for a brief second but you shake your head clear of these thoughts.

Instead, you catch his lips again, the kiss slower this time. You raise yourself a bit so his cock can align itself to your entrance. Your dress is raised to help you. Even if his cock was on the girthy side with veins on the underside of his cock. You knew your pussy would stretch around him, that your walls would be a splendid fit around his length. You were too impatient for any sort of foreplay, you wanted the stretch, you wanted him to make you dizzy with his cock splitting you apart.

You let out a whimper as you began to sink onto his cock, your eyes flicked to him and his eyes were zeroed down to the place you both were connected now. His hands are on either side of your hip, guiding you down on his length. It was after his cock was fully stuffed in you, that his self-control allowed him to let out a groan.

“I respected you like a lady but sluts don't deserve respect,” he said, his lips parted as he let out a heavy pant. You let out a whimper, your mind hazy as your cunt tries to get used to his length. “I.. am sorry,” you whine, how many times do you need to repeat? When will he be satisfied with your apology?

“Prove it,” he said with a smirk, “Prove that you deserve to be my wife and the First Lady of Panem.”

You follow Corios’ command. Your hands are on his shoulders to support yourself. Your fingers fist his shirt as you begin to ride him. Raising yourself a few inches before slamming down on his cock with a loud moan escaping your lips. He reached the deepest spot inside of you like this. His cockhead grazing your spongy spot as you fucking yourself on his cock. Your arousal and his pre-cum being smeared all over your thighs.

The sight made his breath hitch, something you didn't notice as you were too busy with your eyes closed and taking his cock like a good wife. You looked completely debauched like this, your hair wild, your lips red and swollen, your hands digging into his shoulder. Your nipples are hard and obvious through the white dress.

He wasn't supposed to lose control, this was happening for a reason. No matter how many deem him God or devil in the end he was a man. And no man is perfect. He pulled you closer to him. One of his hands is on your back, pressing you to him. Another of his hands in your hair, tugging the strands without a care about how rough he is being. It makes you moan, your head on his chest now. His hips raise upwards to fuck you as he now lets out more vocal sounds of enjoyment.

His pace was slower than yours. Each thrust of his was made for his indulgence in your velvet walls. The drag of his cock was perfect, his speed however was making you feel insane. You needed him, faster, harder. Used would be a much more correct term. You wanted to be used by your husband. And right now, you were but it wasn't enough.

You let out mewls and whines to make him break his languid pace but Corio gives you no mind. His fingers interlanged in your locks, his hand still pressing you in and his strength made it so you couldn't take control. He was drunk in the pleasure your pussy gave, his head resting on his headrest, his lips parted to let out a grunt with every thrust.

You weren't a person for him, not right now, a fleshlight perhaps. It didn't matter what you felt, it mattered what Snow felt. Snow felt amazing, he felt stupid for denying himself this for months on end. He would never make the same mistake again.

Time passes and you don't know how long Corio has you like this, your nerves raw as your pussy impossibly sensitive. Tears were falling from your eyes and staining his shirt but moans slipped your lips every time he pushed in again.

“Corio, please,” you try to plead, raising your head to look at him. “Please, please can't anymore.” He turns his head to you, his fingers that you seemed to have forgotten were in your hair tugging your strands roughly.

That was it. You gasp out as the pain becomes a trigger to make you cum on his cock, your pussy tightening around his cock like a vice as the orgasm washes over your body. It was intense and you had snapped. “Sorry! Sorry!” You begin to sob, “I won't ever look at a man that's not you! Sn- Corio please!”

His languid thrust had sped up, his arms caging you to his chest. The last thing you heard before he spilled his seed inside of you was, “Snow lands on top.”

[assriels]

honeyed temptations

pairing: azriel x reader 

word count: 2.2k

warnings: some smut and suggestive language (mdni 18+ only pls!!), swearing, azriel is whipped for u but is also very stubborn, domesticity/fluff

summary: despite azriel’s relative indifference to most things, he absolutely, undeniably hates the heat. and fucking loves when you wear sundresses.

a/n: continuation of my ongoing headcanon that azriel is actually kind of a stubborn baby, especially with his mate; i have a summer oneshot for cassian coming out soon! <3

masterlist

banners by @/cafekitsune <3

Azriel was fucking furious. It was like the sun had a personal vendetta against him, determined to steal any and all comfort from him as he baked in the hot morning sun in your shared bedroom.

Peak summer in Velaris was nothing to scoff at. Though the Night Court was hailed for the beauty of its moon and stars, the same could not be said for its seasons. It was a solar court and that meant that its moon waxed and waned through the full dearth of the seasons. And summer just so happened to be Azriel’s least favorite. 

Though he could handle the strikingly cold winters the Night Court had to offer — it snowed quite heavily in Illyria, afterall — the heat of the summer was unbearably oppressive. It didn’t help that his current residence was the House of Wind, built high on a mountain cliff where the heat rose and was entirely too close to the sun. Not even the House’s breeze helped staunch his somewhat over exaggerated agitation at the rising temperatures. 

It was still morning, but it seemed that the sun had decided that it would be especially insufferable today, showboating its prowess even at 9 in the morning. 

“C’mon Az,” you implored, gentle hand poking his bare shoulder. “Rhys is here, we have a meeting.” 

He pouted at you from where he was sprawled out on the bed, not having bothered to get up — or put clothes on — despite having been awake for an hour now. He rolled onto his side to get a better look at you, hoping that if he pouted enough you’d have mercy on him and let him stay naked and as cool as possible; the thought of putting on clothes — most of which he owned were black — made Azriel’s head ache. 

“‘s too hot.” 

You huffed a laugh at his childlike petulance. Who would have guessed the feared Shadowsinger of the Night Court couldn’t handle a little heat? 

“You’re being a baby,” you chuckled, sitting on the edge of the bed as you attempted to negotiate with your mate to get out of bed. 

It was then that he took stock of your appearance. You had always been much less bothered by the heat than he was — and much more functional in it — and so your morning routines were never disrupted. You had already bathed and gotten ready, pretty little sundress skimming your curves as the hem tickled the skin on your legs. 

“You look nice,” Azriel noted with a hum of appreciation. Ordinarily, he would’ve reached over and pulled you on top of him to make both of you late for Rhys’s meeting for an entirely different reason, but he couldn’t fathom getting any more sticky and sweaty than he already was, so he resisted. Instead, he opted for toying with the hem of your dress in contemplation.

“Is this new?” He asked, taking in the sweet honey yellow linen and thin straps. You nodded your head and smoothed your hands down your front, fixing the neckline of your dress in a way that had Azriel’s eyes burning holes through your skin. 

“Do you like it? I bought it when I went out with Feyre the other day.” You intentionally left out that you had bought it with the explicit purpose of using it to tempt your mate out of bed, knowing that he always needed a little bit of incentive in the summer. 

Assessing hazel eyes tracked the familiar planes of your body, face lit with an entirely different kind of heat now, “Yeah, I like it.” 

His gaze lifted to yours and you nearly gave into him. The adoration in his eyes and the blush high on the apples of his cheeks was mesmerizing, “You’re very pretty, you know.” 

Azriel’s unfiltered affections for you always made your heart beat quicken, and your attention shifted to his hand resting comfortably on your thigh, thumb drawing innocent circles on your skin. You bent over to kiss him briefly in thanks before patting his hand and getting up off the bed. 

You could’ve sworn you heard Azriel whine in protest, but it was drowned out by the sound of you sifting through the dresser, no doubt searching for clothes to throw his way.

He watched you from his spot on the bed, eyeing the way the hem of your dress billowed from your waist and just barely covered the curve of your ass. He was convinced that he could stare at you for an eternity and still find new parts of you to marvel at. 

Before he could get too lost in his greedy appreciation of your beauty and the stunning way your dress complimented every curve and dip of your body, you were tossing clothes at his face.

“Stop staring and get dressed!” You laughed, “You know Cass is gonna give you shit for being late. Again.”

It was no secret to those closest to Azriel that he was an absolute terror when the summer rolled around. Though it only took a week or two for him to adjust and become begrudgingly functional again, the days leading up to his revival were always a source of great amusement to the Inner Circle. Ah, the perfect Shadowsinger finally reveals his flaws, Cassian would consistently tease.

He only groaned in response, rolling onto his back once again to stare at the ceiling. 

You sighed. Truthfully, you found this side of him endearing – and quite funny – but you knew he had a job to do and nothing would get done unless he was, at the very least, clothed. Sauntering over to the bed, you looked down at him with your hands on your hips. You were met only with a stubborn look in return; you could’ve sworn you glimpsed the ghost of a defiant smirk curving his lips, “Make me.”

You reeled at his challenge. Fine, you would make him. 

The bed shifted as you straddled him on all fours, careful not to let any part of you touch any part of him. His hands came up instinctively to grasp your hips as he didn’t even try to hide his triumphant smile. But you wouldn’t let him get away with it, at least not now.

You encircled his wrists in your hands, guiding them above his head to pin them to the pillow. Both of you knew he could easily wriggle out of your grasp, but Azriel was aware that this was riling you up just as much as him so he conceded. Allowed his beautiful mate to do whatever she pleased.

“Don’t touch,” you commanded in his ear, punctuating your words with a slow swirl of your tongue along the shell of his ear. “If you listen, I promise I’ll be so, so good for you.”

Unexpected emotion flooded his chest as he resisted the urge to break the tension with his affection for you. You were already so good for him. In more ways than he could have ever wanted, more ways than he ever imagined. But he kept his mouth shut, and focused only on the way he could feel the hem of your dress kissing his skin as your mouth nipped at sucked at all the places that drove him insane. 

“C’mon, Az,” you cooed, licking a sinful path up his neck before you blew on his skin, reveling in the way goosebumps rose on his flesh despite the sweltering weather. “Get up for me, huh?”

He didn’t miss the double entendre as you tracked a scathing wet trail down his body, your tongue — frustratingly — the only part of you touching him. He was being difficult and you were making him pay for it by teasing him in ways only you knew how to. Azriel groaned low and deep when your cool breath hit right beneath his bellybutton, abs flexing as he willed himself to maintain his composure. You still weren’t touching him, and he was already embarrassingly hard, body desperate to feel your skin on his. 

His brow furrowed with concentration and lust as he met your gaze right before your lips puckered and you took the head of his cock – pretty and swollen and throbbing just for you – into your mouth. Azriel’s head flopped back onto his pillow as he loosed a long, deep breath, a cross between a sigh and a moan so pleasing to hear that you nearly forgot your initial intentions. 

One well placed stroke of your tongue had your eyes meeting his yet again, all dark pupils and a thin ring of gorgeous hazel. You were the picture of perfect seduction, pretty lips split open on his cock, bent over him in such a way that gave him an unobstructed view of your cleavage beneath your dress. You released him with a sinfully wet pop! as you pulled back and smiled at him, sweet and teasing before you blew gently on his tip. Azriel shuddered.

Oh, Mother above. He was milliseconds away from flipping you onto your back and tearing your godsforsaken dress right off you — or maybe he’d keep it on — but you were faster, jumping just out of his reach and off the bed, as if you hadn’t just addled his mind with fantasies of all the ways he could fuck you in that dress. 

The wicked smirk of satisfaction curving your lips told him that you’d had your intended effect. Azriel was barely able to recalibrate his bearings in time for him to notice you heading towards the door. He sputtered in disbelief, “Where are you going?”

Before you traipsed out the bedroom door, you turned back to look at him, “To be continued, mate. After you get dressed.”

When you shut the door behind you, Azriel could have sworn he heard your giddy, maniacal laughter echo in time to the sound of your footsteps down the stairs. Now he had two problems: 1) he was still hot as the fires of Hell and 2) he was achingly hard and knew he’d have to make a concerted effort not to look too long at you in that dress all day if he wanted to cling to what little composure he had.

He sighed as his shadows swirled around his ears, barely offering any reprieve from the heat. 

Pretty mate. So, so pretty. Everyone thinks so. 

Make that three problems: 3) Cassian would be making innocent comments about you looking so good in that dress just to irritate him. 

The possession roiling around in his gut – courtesy of the mating bond – was his final straw as he scrubbed a frustrated hand down his face. Fucking fine, he would put the damn clothes on. 

☾𖤓 epilogue ☾𖤓

“Where’s that overgrown child you call a mate, anyway?” Cassian quipped after you made your appearance in the dining room for breakfast. 

“Exactly where you think he is,” you laughed over a bite of toast.

“What’s wrong with Azriel?” Feyre implored innocently, “Is he not feeling well?” 

Rhys chuckled and shook his head, “Azriel is not very fond of the summer—“

“That’s an understatement,” you and Cassian mumbled under your breaths in tandem.

“—and it’s a nightmare getting him to do anything in heat like this. But luckily we have Y/N.”

Before your High Lady could ask the question on the tip of her tongue, Cassian stole a piece of bacon off your plate, ignoring the way you protested, “I mean, you’ve seen how whipped he is Feyre. He’ll do anything if Y/N even suggests she wants him to. Az only gets out of bed in the summer because she asks.”

In retribution for your stolen bacon, you speared the rest of Cassian’s eggs and forked them into your mouth before he could inch away from you. You didn’t respond, knowing all too well that Azriel actually would not get out of bed even if you asked, leaving you to resort to other…tactics. 

“I’m not a child, you know.” Came Azriel’s petulant interruption as he greeted you with a brief kiss to your head and the rest of his family with a grunt of acknowledgement, “I can do things on my own, in case you forgot.”

“We’ll stop calling you one, once you stop acting like it,” Cassian taunted.

Azriel’s scoff was his only response as he sat down next to you at the table, plating two pieces of bacon in front of you to replace the one he knew Cassian had no doubt probably taken. You smiled up at him gratefully, and despite the still sweltering heat that had only seemed to have gotten worse as time progressed, he smiled back. 

Feyre was in awe; it was like the heat had melted away his stony exterior, leaving the real Azriel exposed for everyone to see. Feyre met your gaze across the table, a mischievous glint in her eyes that told you she was more than privy to the extraneous measures you had taken to coax your mate out of bed.

“How do you do it?” Cassian not-so-quietly whispered to you. 

“I have my ways,” you responded cryptically with a smirk as Azriel’s hand ventured beneath the hem of your dress, squeezing your thigh.

You would most definitely be paying for your little shenanigan in the bedroom later.  

[bluelockmaniac]

꒰ WILL YOU MARRY ME? ꒱₊ ⊹

▯ synopsis. how bllk boys propose to you ★ ft. sae, rin, kaiser, nagi x fem!reader

YOU CHOOSE WHETHER OR NOT YOU ACCEPT THEIR PROPOSAL !

itoshi sae. private, no words, & silent romance.

sae taking you out on late-night, fancy dinner dates was a regular occurrence. what was unusual tonight, however, was the way his sharp gaze lingered keenly on your every movement as you slid on your thigh-high stockings.

the mattress dips next to you, and you glance up innocently to see your boyfriend, dressed in a simple yet elegant beige suit. he appeared as calm and composed as ever, yet there was something unfamiliar about his approach that you couldn't quite pinpoint.

to your surprise, he takes your hand, caressing it gently with his thumb before sliding an intricate diamond ring onto your ring finger. your breath hitches as he lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss on your knuckles. he peers up at you through his thick lashes, lacing his fingers through yours, chuckling softly at the sight of your ridiculously wide eyes.

but you feel something else, this time resting in your other hand's palm. two tickets to spain.

PROPOSAL: ACCEPTED or REJECTED?

itoshi rin. also private, but awkward.

it had been an entire hour since rin had asked you to leave your shared bedroom. you had complied without question, assuming that perhaps he needed time to analyze a football game to prepare for an upcoming match, and you perfectly understood how important his career was to him.

suddenly, you heard your boyfriend's peculiar, startling voice calling out to you from the room. you immediately turned off your television, dashing to the sound of his urgent words. you burst open through the door, only to abruptly collide into his firm chest. your hand flew to your face to rub your nose in pain, but you quickly noticed the slight quivering of his fingers as he shut the door behind you.

his eyes take you in with uncharacteristic nervousness, before strangely glancing away as his hand digs into his suit pocket . . . suit?

your mouth hangs open in shock as he fishes out a velvety crimson ring box. however, much to his dismay, his attempt at trying to open the small, lavish box fell short of his expectations as it slipped from his restless grip and hit the ground with a soft thud.

"fuck," he curses under his breath.

the white-gold tapered ring spun in its place momentarily, before coming to a rest in front of you.

PROPOSAL: ACCEPTED or REJECTED?

michael kaiser. semi-public, romantic.

you thought you would never catch kaiser dropping down on one knee to slip a pretty ring onto your finger. and you were right— you wouldn't.

a pair of cerulean eyes were glued to you as you gave your order to the waitress. their owner swirled his glass of champagne, a subtle, persistent smirk resting on his lips. you felt him brazenly intertwine his fingers with yours, gently rubbing your knuckles as you made an effort to quietly ignore his gesture.

kaiser took this opportunity, while your attention was on the waitress, to deftly maneuver a three-stone rose quartz ring onto your finger. you hadn’t even noticed the cold touch of the metal band around your skin, assuming it was just his cool fingertips.

as the waitress left, you glanced back at kaiser and furrowed your brows in embarrassment when you realized he had been staring at you intently this entire time. “what? is there something on my face?" you asked, tilting your head to the side.

he grins, setting his glass on the table before pulling out a red rose and tossing it to where you hand lay. “no, meine liebe,” he teased, pointing to your hand, “but there certainly is something on your finger.”

curious, you glanced down and almost immediately, a loud gasp escaped past your parted lips, drawing the attention of diners around you.

PROPOSAL: ACCEPTED or REJECTED?

seishiro nagi. straight to the point.

"mmh, baby, 'was your ring size?" he mumbles, adjusting his head on his comfortable pillow (your lap) slightly. your hand freezes, halting the pleasant motion of your fingers raking through his snowy white hair.

"heyyy..." he whines, poking your thigh gently, "keep going, don' stop..."

you quickly nudge his head, eliciting a low groan from the large man. "sei... are you planning to propose to me?" you ask, meeting his gaze with hope.

he pushes himself up, sitting cross-legged on the bed, then pulls you onto his lap. he blinks sleepily before sighing, then resting his hands on both of your cheeks. "i thought we were practically married, but reo kept nagging me about buyin' you a ring or something..."

he leans in closer, forehead meeting yours. he strokes your lip with his thumb before taking you by surprise with a lazy kiss. he pulls away and looks back at you, eyes wordlessly demanding answers.

"well?" he tilts his head. "will you marry me?"

PROPOSAL: ACCEPTED or REJECTED?

a/n: me personallyyy . . . all four will be accepted but a girl can dream .

© 2024 bluelockmaniac — do not repost, copy, translate, modify, etc my work on any platform !

[gubsbuubs]

Headache Relief

(18+)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~ 4.5K

Warnings: Sex duh, creampie.

Summary: When Spencer seeks relief for his intense headaches, he finds more than just painkillers in Y/n's room.

A/N: Hi everyone, I've been away... I know... I know. This bar exam prep is kicking my ass. I've got some other works on the way but I had to finish this one and share it with you guys.

English is not my first language. I hope you all enjoy it, and any and all comments are appreciated 🍒

Y/n laid on the bed, her tired eyes scanning the pages of the worn book, the weight of today's concluded case still heavy on her mind. The darkened motel room was softly illuminated by the gentle glow of the muted television, casting faint shadows that danced across the walls. Her peace was abruptly shattered by a knock at her door, soft yet insistent, pulling her away from the comfort of the pages.

Glancing at the bedside clock, the red digits of 1:52 glowed back at her, stirring a sense of urgency.

Could something have happened? Her worry mounted with each passing second. With a quick exhale, she rose from the bed, her heart pounding with apprehension. Her slender fingers fumbled with the lock as she approached the door, anticipation gnawing at her. When it swung open, she was met with a sight that caused her stomach to twist with concern.

There he stood, his appearance disheveled, his exhaustion evident in the lines etched upon his face. The fingers of his left hand pressed firmly against the bridge of his nose, while his right hand leaned heavily against the wall for support. Dressed in a mismatched ensemble of a band shirt and pajama pants, he looked like he had been through a rough night.

"Spence?!" she exclaimed, her voice tinged with worry, the concern evident in her tone.

His bloodshot eyes met hers, "Y/n, I'm sorry... I know it's late," he murmured, his voice hoarse and barely above a whisper.

"Are you okay?" Her hand instinctively reached out to touch his shoulder, feeling the tension in his muscles beneath her fingertips.

"I….I need your help…" His breathing was ragged, and his words came out in a rush, "It´s happening again," he admitted, vulnerability seeping through.

"Come in" Y/n said softly, tugging lightly on his shoulder.

He sat on the end of her bed, the weight of exhaustion evident in every line of his posture. She closed the door behind her, the soft click echoing in the dimly lit room. Turning to face him, she found him hunched over, his hands pressed firmly against the sides of his temples as he massaged his own head, his face contorting in pain.

"I... I know you always carry a pouch of medicine everywhere you go," he began, "I thought... maybe you could help me."

Y/n's heart softened at the vulnerability in his voice, realizing he must be in significant pain to ask for medicine, so without a word, she crossed the room. Rummaging through her bag, her fingers closed around a small pill bottle, and then she grabbed a water bottle from the mini-fridge.

With a sense of urgency, she handed them to Spencer before sitting by his side.

"Here, Spence," she said softly. "Take this. It should help."

Spencer accepted the pill and water with gratitude, his hands trembling slightly as he struggled to open the cap. Taking a deep breath, he swallowed the pill with a gulp of water, placing the bottle on the floor afterward

A moment of silence passed, and Spencer attempted to stand, but his head swam with dizziness. Y/n reacted swiftly, rising faster than anticipated to catch him just as his legs gave way beneath him.

With a gentle yet firm grip, she guided him back down onto the bed, her heart racing as he sat back down.

"Whoa, whoa, Spence, are you okay?" Her voice was filled with worry as she steadied him, her hands offering support and holding him upright. "I think you might need to lie down for a bit," she suggested, concern evident in her eyes.

He opened his mouth to talk, even looked up to lock his eyes with hers, but feeling unsteady he leaned forward, and breath in deeply as his head came to rest against her stomach.

"I'm sorry," he rushed, his voice muffled against her, "The dizziness... it's from the pain" his words tinged with frustration. "It'll pass as soon as the medication kicks in."

As he attempted to lift his head, another wave of dizziness washed over him, causing him to sway once again. Y/n instinctively pulled him closer, stepping between his legs and encouraging him to hug her waist for support. "Hey, it's okay, Spence," she reassured "Just hold on to me until you feel better. I'm here for you."

"I'm sorry," his voice was soft and as low as whisper.

“Shhhhhh” Her right hand met the back of his head, applying gentle pressure to certain points.

"I just… I don't want to impose on your space, I just..." His sentence was interrupted by a relieved sigh, the tension slowly melting away under her comforting touch.

"Spencer, that's what friends are for," Y/n murmured softly, as she continued to massage his head, the tension gradually ebbing away.

As her words reached his ears, Spencer couldn't help but feel grateful for having such a caring friend by his side.

"Friend… right...." he taught to himself.

Amidst the urgency for the relief of mediation and the dizziness that followed, he'd become oblivious to the situation he found himself in. His hands intertwined around her, gripping tighthy on her waist, his head nestled against her stomach, while her gentle touch sought to alleviate his suffering.

In that moment, the intimacy of their position became glaringly apparent. Yes they were just friends, yet here they were, intertwined in a way that transcended mere friendship.

Another sigh of relief left Spencer's lips as he felt her touch soothe his pain and provide a sense of comfort that he hadn't felt in a long time.

"Is this helping?" She asked gently.

"Yeah, it is. Thank you, Y/n," Spencer replied gratefully, lightly nodding his head against her stomach.

She looked down at him, nestled against her, he looked calm, relieved, like he belongs close to her.

She paused the movement of her fingers for a moment, considering how she could further alleviate his discomfort. "Maybe I could massage your head. That could help, right?"

Spencer nodded once again, lightly lifting his chin to grace her with a faint smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. "Actually, head massages can be quite effective for relieving headaches," he said, slipping into his familiar role of sharing facts and statistics. "They help to increase blood flow and reduce muscle tension, which can provide significant relief from pain."

"Well then, let me try something," Slowly, she stepped away, feeling his hands brush against her sides and hips as she moved back. With measured steps, Y/n climbed into the bed behind him, settling against the headboard. Spencer turned his head back slightly to look at her, a hint of confusion evident in his expression.

He watched her as she motioned with her hand, encouraged him, "Come here, lay back." She patted the sheets between her legs, inviting him to find comfort in her embrace.

As Spencer looked at her, the world around him seemed to fade into the background. His gaze traveled up her legs, lingering on the bare skin of her thighs barely covered by her shorts and the oversized shirt that draped over her frame. Despite the pain that throbbed in his head, he couldn't help but appreciate the sight before him. There was a softness in her features, a gentleness in the way she sat against the headboard, her legs spread slightly, inviting him closer.

A wince of pain brought him back to reality, and with a nod, he complied, scooting back onto the bed and laying back into her embrace.

His head found its place between her legs, his head lightly leaning onto her lower stomach, the warmth of the bare skin of her thighs brushing against his cheeks and neck.

Despite the pain, his mind started to wander as he laid there.

As her fingers worked their way through his hair, easing the tension in his temples, Spencer's thoughts began to drift. He couldn't help but be acutely aware of the softness of her skin against his face, and the delicate scent of florals that surrounded her.

As they lingered in the quiet intimacy of the moment, Y/n's gentle massage continued to soothe Spencer's temples. Though the pain started to subsided, the thoughts of her only seemed to intensify, swirling through his mind like a tempestuous storm. Lost in his reverie, Spencer's awareness heightened as he glanced down and noticed … his pants were a little tighter now.

A wave of embarrassment washed over him as he realized the effect she was having on him. Quickly he sat up, his cheeks burning and his breathing picking up speed.

"Is everything okay, Spencer?" she asked, her voice filled with genuine worry. "Did I hurt you?"

Spencer hesitated, his mind racing as he struggled to find the right words. He didn't want to admit that he got hard and now had to leave the room, but the concern in her eyes urged him to speak.

"No, no, you didn't do anything wrong," Spencer stammered, his voice tinged with embarrassment. "You were a real help, but I should leave. I don't want to... You should rest now." As he attempted to get up and leave the bed, Y/n's hand shot out, grabbing his arm firmly. She tried to meet his eyes but his gaze kept shifting away, so Y/n's eyes inadvertently wandered downward, drawn by a curious instinct. And there it was, beneath the fabric of his pijama pants, a subtle but unmistakable tenting. Heat flooded her cheeks as realization dawned on her, and her hand instinctively flew left of his arm to cover her surprised mouth.

"I... I..." Spencer began, his words catching in his throat as he struggled to find the right thing to say. Despite his attempts to speak, the words remained elusive, trapped on the tip of his tongue like a fleeting thought.

"I need to go," he finally muttered getting up. But before he could make a move to leave, Y/n's hand now met his, halting him in his tracks.

"Spencer, wait," she implored, her tone gentle yet firm, her eyes searching for understanding.

"Y/n, I... I'm so sorry," the words tumbled from his lips in a rush of guilt and regret. "You've been such a great friend, and I couldn't help but..." he sighed heavily.

"Oh, you probably think I´m such a pervert..." His voice trailed off, unable to continue, as shame washed over him. He felt like he had crossed a line, making her uncomfortable in a way he had never intended.

"You don't need to apologize," she said, "And you're not a perv, you haven't made me uncomfortable."

"What?" he asked in disbelief, looking up at her with confusion in his eyes.

Y/n smiled softly, "I understand Spencer."

"You understand?" His eyebrows were furrowed, and his heart was racing.

"Humm humm," she nodded her head, looking up in to his eyes.

"What do you mean?" He asked, feeling a mix of emotions swirling inside him.

He watched closely, as she gently took his hand, guiding it down until his fingertips met the warmth of her covered core. His breath caught in his throat as a rush of heat surged through him, his heart pounding with a mixture of shock and desire.

"I understand," she whispered softly, her voice filled with desire.

Spencer's mind reeled with the intensity of the moment, his senses overwhelmed by the heady scent of her arousal and the softness of her touch. He felt a surge of longing flood through him, a primal urge driving him to lean in closer, to explore the depths of her desire.

"Are you sure?" Spencer's voice almost faltered as he felt the wetness seeping through the fabric. His heart pounded in his chest. As he gazed into her eyes, he saw nothing but longing and desire reflected back at him.

She nodded, her lips parted in anticipation of what was to come. With a gentle touch, his hand met her cheek, guiding her closer until their lips met in a passionate kiss.

The intensity of their kiss grew, fueling their desire as Spencer's hand ventured boldly, tracing circles over her covered clit. A small moan escaped her as his tongue brushed her bottom lip asling for enterence.

"Fuck," she gasped, her breath hitching as she felt the bed dip beneath her. Her heart raced with anticipation as Spencer knelt before her, his gaze filled with hunger and desire.

With trembling hands, Spencer reached for the hem of her clothing. Before he peeled away the fabric, he looked up at her, his gaze searching for reassurance.

"Do you want me too keep going, Y/n?" he whispered, his voice tinged with urgency. He needed to be certain that she was ready to take this step with him, to surrender to the passion that burned between them.

Y/n met his gaze with unwavering determination. "Yes... yes... I need you, Spence," she whined.

With a shaky breath, Spencer slowly dragged the fabric of her shorts down her legs, his hands trembling with anticipation as he revealed her nakedness to him. Y/n watched him with bated breath, a flush of heat spreading across her skin as her clothing fell away, leaving her exposed and vulnerable before him. She reached for the hem of her shirt, her fingers fumbling slightly with the fabric before she managed to pull it over her head, tossing it aside with a sense of urgency. Now fully exposed, she stood before him, her body illuminated by the soft glow of the room.

Spencer's gaze trailed over her naked form. He watched intently as the slight chill in the air caused her nipples to harden, standing erect against the smooth curve of her breasts.

Y/n felt utterly exposed, her body laid bare before him.

With a steady hand, Spencer reached out, his touch gentle yet firm as he took her right nipple between his index and middle finger. A gasp escaped her lips as she felt the sensation ripple through her. She arched her back instinctively.

"Fuck... please," Y/n whimpered, her voice laced with desperation as she parted her legs further, inviting him closer. With a sense of urgency, she reached for his hand, guiding it to where she wanted it most.

Feeling her warmth and wetness against his fingers, Spencer's desire surged as he explored her delicate folds. Now there was no fabric between the soft skin of his fingers and the warm, slick slit of her pussy. He moaned at the sigth and teased her with slow, deliberate strokes.

Spencer's breath hitched as he added another finger, the sensation of her tightness and warmth driving him wild with desire. With each movement of his fingers, he couldn't help but marvel at how perfectly she fit around him.

"God, you feel incredible," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "I can't even imagine how good you'll feel wrapped around my cock."

The thought of being buried deep inside her, of feeling her tightness enveloping him completely, sent a shiver of anticipation down his spine.

As Y/n writhed beneath him, lost in a haze of pleasure, her moans filled the room. "Please," she gasped, her voice thick with need. "Fuck me, Spencer. I need you."

Spencer withdrew his fingers from within her, eliciting a soft whimper of protest from Y/n. But before she could voice her longing, he brought his fingers to her parted lips.

"Open," he commanded.

Without hesitation, Y/n obeyed, parting her lips to accept his fingers in to her mouth. With a hunger that mirrored his own, she sucked eagerly, tasting herself on his skin. The raw intensity of the moment sent a thrill coursing through her, igniting a fire of desire that burned hotter with each passing second.

As she eagerly licked and sucked his fingers clean, Spencer's hands moved to the waistband of his pajama pants, his movements urgent and determined. With a quick motion, he undid the strings, discarded his pajama pants and shirt, revealing his throbbing erection that sprang free. Y/n's gaze locked onto his member, her eyes widening with desire as she took in his arousal.

As Spencer lightly stroked himself, his eyes never leaving hers, he whispered, "Imagine how good it will feel inside of you,"

Oh, what a sigth! Her eyebrows furrowed in a plea, and her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

"God, you're so beautiful," he murmured. "I need to be inside you." He positioned himself, aligning his throbbing length with her entrance. With a sense of urgency, she reached behind him, grabbing a handful of his ass, urging him forward as he lowered himself onto her.

With a shared moan, he entered her completely. The sensation of him filling her to the hilt overwhelming their senses.

Spencer began by fucking her slowly, his movements deliberate and passionate, savoring every moment of their intimate connection. As he thrusted into her with a gentle rhythm, he captured her lips in a passionate kiss, seeking to subside her moans of pleasure.

Her hands tangled in the curls at the back of his head, in response Spencer tilted his head back slightly, letting out a throaty moan. "Fuck, Y/n," he groaned. "You're so fucking tight."

"Oh, Spence," she gasped, her breath hitching with pleasure as his movements intensified. "You feel so good, filling me up like this."

"You like that, baby?" Spencer's voice was low and sultry. "You like feeling my cock deep inside you, making you mine?"

"Yes," she moaned. "I want you to take me. I want you to fuck me harder."

Spencer's thrusts grew faster and the bed creaked beneath them, the wooden frame protesting the force of their passion. His right hand gripped her thigh forcefully, his fingers digging into her skin as he sought to anchor himself to her. Meanwhile, the fingers of his left hand found their way to her clit once again, expertly stroking the sensitive nub with each rhythmic movement.

With each thrust, his hips rocked against hers, driving deeper into her. The sensation of him filling her so completely sent waves of pleasure coursing through her body, igniting a fire that burned hotter with each passing moment.

Y/n's hands roamed over his back, her fingers tracing the contours of his muscles as she clung to him for dear life. Her nails dug into his skin with every powerful thrust, leaving crescent-shaped imprints.

"Are you gonna cum for me, pretty girl?" Spencer's voice was low against her ear as he pounded into her, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Oh fuck, yes…" she moaned. "God, yes, I want to cum so badly."

"I'm close, too," he admitted, his voice strained with pleasure.

As Y/n's moans intensified, Spencer continued to pound into her with relentless fervor, his movements synchronized with the rhythm of her impending climax. With each thrust, he felt her walls clenching around him, the tightness driving him to the edge of control.

"Please," he pleaded, his voice strained with desperation, "let me cum inside. I need to feel you come undone around me."

With a fervent nod, Y/n surrendered to the overwhelming sensations coursing through her body, her walls clenching around his cock as she reached her orgasm.

The feeling of her tightness milking him was all it took to push Spencer over the edge. With one final thrust, he buried himself deep inside her, his hips grinding against his own release washing over him in powerful waves as they came together.

They stayed there, tangled together, basking in the aftermath of their shared passion. The room was filled with a hazy, contented silence as they caught their breath.

Eventually, Spencer stirred, untangling himself from Y/n's embrace with a reluctant sigh. "I'll grab us a towel," he murmured, slipping out of bed and padding to the bathroom.

Returning moments later, he set to work cleaning them both up, his movements gentle and unhurried. There was a quiet intimacy to the way he wiped away the remnants of their lovemaking, as if each touch carried a silent promise of care and affection.

Once they were both cleaned up, Spencer rejoined Y/n in bed, pulling her close once again as they settled into the warmth of each other's arms.

"Hey, how's your head feeling now?" She asked softly with genuine care.

Spencer looked into her eyes, a grateful smile spreading across his face. "Much better. Thank you for caring about me and for taking care of me."

"I'm glad you came knocking on my door," she replied warmly.

Spencer chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Well, you know what else helps to increase blood flow and reduce muscle tension?" He quipped with a playful smirk.

"Now we know what to do next time you have a headache." With a smile, Y/n leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on his lips.

[yeollie-plz]

Rendezvous

Benedict Bridgerton x F! Reader

Synopsis: The ball was dreadfully boring, but you know what isn’t boring? Sneaking off to the library with Benedict.

Genre: smut!!, somehow I snuck some fluff in there

Warnings: smut, 18+ content, sneaking around, kissing, oral sex, public sex, handjobs, exhibitionism, choking

All gif credits to owners!

"Ben...please," you moaned out.

Currently the man in question was on his knees, hands bunching your dress up to your hips as his tongue made quick work of your pussy. His hot breath fanned out over your soaked folds as he lapped at your center.

He kept his rhythm as he willed you to your peak, working your bud in quick circles. Both of you knew you didn't have much time. Someone could catch you at any moment and if you weren't so caught up in the moment you might have even been scared of this fact.

Benedict's tongue flicked your clit particularly hard, causing your hips to jerk forward and your hands to grip his hair, roughly. The feeling of you pulling his hair had him moaning, the vibration causing you to grip the follicles once again.

This time his hands gripped onto your thighs. Fingers pushing so deeply into your soft flesh that you were sure they were to leave bruises.

Another moan of his name egged him on, making him move his tongue inhumanly faster. Working it in figure eights in an attempt to push you over your edge, knowing how much you both needed it. And needed to return to the ball...

The library wall you were pushed against almost twenty minutes ago was now lacking some of the books that once lay on its shelves. With the aggressive kisses that had you gripping for anything that could center you and the way Benedict had lifted you up onto one of them just to be able to get even closer to you. A maid was sure to find this in the morning and question the activities that had graced this room the night prior, but you were not one to focus on the future. Not when the present was so, so distracting.

And oh so delicious. How could a tongue feel so good? How did he fell so good?

Your head tossed back as your stomach began to tighten with your impending orgasm. Just as your vision was beginning to turn fuzzy, there was voices from outside the door. Very distinct voices and footsteps coming towards the very room you two currently occupied.

Benedict's head snapped up to meet your eyes. Your orgasm long since forgotten as he quickly pulled away from between your legs. He rose to his feet pushing your dress back down as he did so. The two of you glanced around trying to think of what to do.

Right as your eyes landed on a desk a few steps to your right so did his. It was a large desk and if the two of you were determined, the both of you could fit under there without being seen.

The doorknob turned and you both rushed over to the desk, pushing your bodies under it just in time for the voices to enter the room. The two of you were confined under the desk, your back against his chest as you tried to catch your breath not wanting to give yourselves away.

The group continued to chat across the room. Your breath had finally began evening out just as Benedict leant down to whisper into your ear.

"Compromising position we've found ourselves in, Miss Y/L/N." The statement almost had you letting out a giggle.

"We've been finding ourselves in many compromising positions as of late, Mr. Bridgerton." You whispered back, this statement did have Benedict letting out a low chuckle. The sound resonating in your back, the lift of his chest making you lift forward as well.

That's when you felt it, his hardened member currently sitting very uncomfortably in his tight pants. He knew you had realized too, with how your body stiffened as it rubbed against your hip bone.

"I apologize, my dear, but with our efforts earlier and the way you are close to me now. Well, it might not go away for a minute." His head hung low, almost resting on your shoulder. His lips were dangerously close to that sweet spot between your neck and collarbone.

And as he exhaled, the cold air that ghosted your skin caused a chill to run down your spine. Your ass rubbed against Benedict's boner. His hands gripped onto your hips in warning, head snapping back up as if you could see the cold stare that was surely gracing his face.

"My love..." He warned, as if the knuckles that were now turning white with how tightly he held your body wasn't warning enough.

The voices were clear on the other side of the room so you disregarded his warnings and reached your hand behind you instead. Your hand made contact with his muscular thigh first. Opting for a light touch instead of the rough one he was still currently using on you.

But as your fingers got closer to the buttons of his breeches, all reserves that he might have had were thrown out the window. Instead his own hands were swatting yours away to aid you in undoing his pants.

This satisfied you, a smirk gracing your lips as he laced his fingers with yours and pulled your hand under the flap of his pants. The heat that radiated off of his skin felt like hot candle wax as your smooth fingertips danced along hip. You lifted up ever so slightly, to be able to get a better grip of him and Benedict almost groaned out at the lack of connection. Yet, he bit his tongue and let you get to work. Knowing that if he were to complain, even a little bit, you would stop.

He knew you too well after months of your little rendezvous to ever show his ass or have his ass handed to him instead.

So that’s why Benedict sat on his hands and let you take control. Well, he didn’t actually sit on his hands, no, those were all over you. As soon as your hand made contact with his almost painful member, his were in your hair pulling your head back for easier access to your neck.

He kissed down from your chin, across your collar bone, and so devilishly close to your breasts. As you worked his cock agonizingly slowly. Your hand gripped the base of it working up and down it slowly, teasing the tip as you reached it.

If they were anywhere else, he would’ve asked her to go faster, begged her even. But right here, right now he almost thanked her for taking her time, or else he lose himself.

Footsteps grew even closer to your hiding spot, but you did not stop your motions. Actually, you began to pick up your pace a bit. Benedict who was surprisingly composing himself well only moments before was now forced to cover his mouth with a hand in order to stifle any sounds that might escape him.

The desk shifted slightly, someone was now leaning against it. You almost let out a gasp in shock, your hand ceased its movements. Benedict’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, not even noticing the person just above him. He was way too focused on what he thought was you teasing him. So his hands gripped onto your neck and tightened.

Something that, in normal circumstances, would egg you on. But instead it had you grabbing his wrist in warning, his grip instantly relaxed unsure if he had harmed you. In an effort to calm his nerves and warn him of your new friends, you snapped your head around to look at him. Your finger going back and forth between a shushing motion and pointing above the two of you.

He soon got the hint and nodded slowly. Although, you could tell by how his eyes darken that he didn’t much care for the company.

It was shocking. A man who usually was so plagued with jealously was currently excited by the prospect of getting caught?

But as soon as the company was gained it was stalking off the other side of the room again. You wanted to groan at how long it was taking them to leave. Most people would have returned to the party by now. You should’ve returned to the party by now. Oh, your poor mama would be so worried. Wait, Benedict…

You shook the thoughts of your mama out of your head and returned them to the man under you. Decidedly, you slowly flipped yourself around to face him. You were now on your knees, ass pressed firmly into the wood of the other side of the desk.

Benedict smirked at the look of you bent over for him, hands holding the sides of your face trying to pull your lips up to his. Your obliged and kissed him. It had been much too long since his lips had been on yours. Almost forty minutes now, by your calculations. Much, much too long.

Not too long into the kiss you brought your hand back to his abused cock. He bit your lip as your fingers gathered up the precum that was beading at his tip.

You pulled your lips from his long enough to push your fingers into his mouth. He swirled his tongue around your digits, lapping up all of his essence. Your eyes gleamed at the sight.

With your fingers still in his mouth he smirked, he grabbed your wrist to slowly pull this out, kissing the tips of your fingers before returning your hand to his member. Not too soon after he returned his lips to yours.

He tried to match your rhythm on his dick with the rhythm of his lips. Moaning into your mouth every time your hand wrapped around the head of his cock.

All the teasing of the night was bringing him quickly to his orgasm. So as his hips bucked up into your hand you worked him faster to help him reach his peak.

Benedict’s hips stuttered as you detached your lips from his only to bring them down to his sensitive tip. You licked him quickly before sinking down fully, taking almost his full length inside of your mouth.

This is what sent him over the edge as you pulled your head back and sunk down once again he was coming undone inside of your waiting mouth. You swallowed down all of his seed as he thrust up into your mouth. Hands gripping your hair and pulling at it.

And just as the last shocks of his orgasm were subsiding he let his head knock back into the heavy wooden desk. Your eyes popped up to him in shock as you pulled yourself quickly off of his now spent cock.

He let out a very small whimper at the disregard for his sensitivity and looked at you. The hurt that conveyed his face for a second switched quickly to one of equal concern as he realized what had happened.

The conversation just on the other side of you two stopped in favor of looking over to your hiding place.

“What was that?” A voice said. More grunts of confusion came from some of the others.

You held your breath as the footsteps came closer to you once again. No, no, no this was not how the two of you were supposed to be caught. You would be ruined and forced to marry Benedict. Not that that would be a bad thing, I mean you did love him. But you wanted the proposal to come on your own time, not like this.

Just as the group was about to come around the edge of the desk, the door to the library opened once again and a servant ushered the group to an important matter. They left the room and the door closed behind them.

You took just a second before you were popping your head over the edge of the desk to check to coast was clear. “They are gone.” You said to no one apparently because Benedict was already fully standing up and offering you his hand to help you.

When you both returned to your feet, and clothes were out back into their rightful places, you looked at the man before you. His eyes glowed in the candlelight. His dark hair somehow still perfect even though you were sure you had ruined it. And that jawline…this man was perfect.

He must have felt your eyes on him because in that moment he looked over at you and cocked an eyebrow. You only smiled and shook your head. That’s when he burst out laughing.

“What? What’s so funny?” You tried to question but he just continued laughing and eventually you laughed too.

The two of you laughed for what felt like five minutes before finally running out of breath. Stomachs hurting from the giggle spell.

“I love you.” He said all of a sudden, now overly serious.

“I love you. ” You matched his energy as you replied.

“It’s a wonder they didn’t notice this mess.” Benedict gestured to the pile of books you had knocked over when you had originally came into the room.

“Probably a good thing they didn’t. Wouldn’t want us getting caught.” You didn’t look at him, opting for continuing to stare at the books instead.

“If it’s with you, I wouldn’t mind getting caught.”

Now you looked at him, “You’d so easily sully my reputation?” You questioned, with a hint of jest.

He smiled, “You know that’s not what I meant.”

You nodded. You did know what he meant.

He cleared his throat and closed the distance between the two of you.

“We’ve been gone a while now.” He started as he brought his hands to your hips once again. “Might as well be gone even longer.” He paused again this time to bring his face closer to yours, his breath fanning out over your face.

“Where were we?” He asked as he lifted you up onto the desk you were once hiding under.

“Oh, that’s right.” Benedict said as he brought his lips to yours.

[gguk-n]

Your brother's Oscar Piastri? (Oscar Piastri x Reader)

I've had this idea in my head since I found out Oscar's sister is a K-Pop stan.

{Reader's POV}

Getting tickets to a K-Pop concert got exponentially more difficult as their popularity rose. It took so many attempts and almost losing the hair on my head before I got tickets to the TXT concert in town. I couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief as the confirmation email rolled in.

On the day of the concert, I might have gone all out and dressed up but everyone dresses up for the concert and it was the most exciting day I've had in a while. I love that I get to spend my adult money on stuff I enjoy. At the venue, I got to meet some people I had connected with online and made some new friends.

There was a girl next to me in the seating, who I ended up vibing with. We had a lot of fun as we sang along to all their songs; our voice went hoarse by the end of the night. As we walked out while talking about the concert, "Ugh, my mum won't answer my calls" the girl next to me, who I was introduced to as Hattie groaned. "Is there an issue?" I asked. "My mum's supposed to be my ride back and she won't answer my calls" she whined. "I could drop you" I suggested. "Oh, no. That would be too much to ask for" the girl shook her head to avoid causing any inconvenience . "It'll be fine. We're part of the same fandom so it makes us family" I laughed. She seemed to mull over my suggestion before nodding her head, "OK, but I'll pay for the petrol" she suggested. "Done. Let's go" I said pointing to my car.

The drive to her house was entertaining as we got to know each other better and sang along to the songs. We become concert buddies after that. I didn't really have many friends I could drag along to concerts anymore; having a friend made things much more exciting. She was a joy to have around and we shared the same bias for most groups we liked so it made stuff even more chaotic then they already were.

This went on for a couple more concerts until the latest one where I took the bus to the venue since my car broke down and a non-functioning vehicle was not about to stop me from seeing Enhypen. I met Hattie at the entrance who had been waiting for me. We hugged and grabbed some stuff from the stands outside and walked into the venue. The show was great, the fan service at K-Pop concerts was unmatched.

Hattie knew that my car had broken down and offered to drive me home as a pay back for the favour I had done at the start of our friendship. We were waiting outside for who I assumed was Hattie's mum but instead I was greeted by a tall pale Australian man, I knew more as Oscar Piastri, Formula One driver for McLaren. My jaw almost hit the floor before I caught myself and greeted the man before entering the car. "Hi, I'm Y/N." I said while climbing into the back seat while Hattie sat shot gun. "Hey, I'm Oscar" he said giving me a smile before he started the car.

Hattie kept looking back at me every time I sent a message. As soon as she read the last message, "Oscar, Y/N loves you" she laughed. Man, I hate the friends I have sometimes, I thought. Before my mind could react my body did, "No" I shouted. Oscar turned around to look at me, "no?" he asked. "I mean yes" I stammered. "yes?" he quizzed. "I mean, I love Formula One and since you're a Formula One driver that's why I asked her to ask if could get your autograph" I rambled. If the earth swallowed me whole, I don't think I would mind right now. I could hear Hattie snickering in the background.

The rest of the car ride had me sweating. Oscar dropped me off in front of my building; I bolted out of the door. "Don't you want that autograph?" Oscar shouted. I stopped dead in my tracks with slumped shoulders; if I'm going to embarrass myself, let's leave no stone unturned at this point. "Yeah, sure. I have some merch in my house you could sign" I mumbled walking back to the car. "Maybe you would like to join me for some tea" I offered. Hattie nodded along from inside the car and the three of us headed up. My house, I must've forgotten was not clean enough to be seen by anyone but me; I had to literally stop them, throw everything in the nearest closet and then open the door. I ran a kettle for hot water and asked them to sit on the sofa while I grabbed the Oscar Piastri hat and shirt I had bought recently. He graciously signed it for me and I handed them the cup of tea. "Your house is lovely" Hattie commented while looking around, "I don't see any of the albums or merch" she continued. "they're in my room" I said. "Must be fun explaining to the guys who come over" she spoke more to herself. "It's hilarious watching their reaction" Hattie added at Oscar's quizzical expression. "If you guys are done, would it be harsh to ask you to leave, I have an early shift tomorrow" I asked nervously. "No, thank you for the tea. We'll be leaving" Oscar said while lifting Hattie up. "I'm not leaving yet. I haven't seen your room" Hattie whined trying to get free from Oscar. "You know where she lives, come over at a more acceptable time." Oscar told her and dragged his sister away, "Good night Y/N" he called out as I closed the door.

Thank god she didn't see my room, I don't know how I would explain the Oscar Piastri poster I had above my bed and in my closet. My life got interesting to say the least.

Hattie and I weren't able to meet after since there weren't any concerts for a while but there was a Formula One race in a week. Hattie called me asking if I would like to join her family. I was more than grateful to be going because I got to see the race for free. God knows my saving's are crying.

I got dressed for the race and met them at the venue. It was the race day and the hustle and bustle at the paddock had adrenaline pumping through me. Hattie greeted me and introduced me to her family, 2 sisters and her parents who were very kind and welcoming. "It's nice to finally meet the girl who's accompanying our daughter to concerts and the subject of my child's interest" Nicole chimed extending her arm out. "It's so nice to meet you too Mrs Piastri" I said while shaking her hand. "You make me sound old, call me Nicole" she said. "What did she mean by the subject of my child's interest?" I whispered to Hattie. "Nothing" Hattie answered quickly. We walked in to McLaren to be greeted by Oscar and Lando. Starstruck was an understatement. After exchanging pleasantries and me asking for Lando's autograph and a picture with him and then tripping over the wire on the floor almost discharging vital piece of equipment found my way back to everyone and decided to sit in place. Oscar did ask if I was okay but I couldn't really focus on that since I keep embarrassing myself in front of him, of all the people.

The race ended with a pretty decent finish for Oscar that had all of us cheering. He came back to meet everyone after all the formalities and celebration. After a while we started to pack up to leave; "you should help Oscar pack up" Hattie said while making a quick exit with the family. "What? Why?" I asked but was ignored while everyone left. "Hi" a small voice came. "Hey, Oscar. Great race" I said trying to making things less awkward. "Thanks for coming" Oscar said. "Hattie said you guys had extra tickets and plus I couldn't say no to a race" I rambled. "Umm" he scratched the back of his neck, "there were no extra tickets, Lando lent me one of his so I could invite you" he said. "What? I'm so sorry for the trouble" I apologised. "What? No I mean, I wanted you to come...so I asked Lando for the extra ticket" Oscar corrected me. "You wanted me to come" I repeated. "This is so stupid" he muttered to himself. "Let's go, or we'll be late for dinner" Oscar said packing his stuff. "What dinner?" I asked. I was so lost, what was going on? "We're going out for a family dinner" Oscar stated. "You're going on a family dinner, I'm going home. I'm sure they must be waiting for you in the garage." I said grabbing my stuff. "They're not" Oscar lamented running a hand through his hair.

"I could drop you there if you would like" I offered. "No, I...ugh" Oscar sounded frustrated. "Is something wrong? Maybe I can get help" I suggested. Oscar looked at me with the softest puppy eyes, "I got tickets for you, specifically even though I didn't have one, I was ready to not have one of my sisters attend so that you could have a ticket" he said now staring at me. "I don't" I began. "Fuck, Y/N IthinkIlikeyou" he mumbled. "Oscar, I don't know what you said" I said. Lando peeped in, "This is getting frustrating, I thought it would be fun to watch but it's not. That muppet means he likes you, go out with him." Lando chimed. "You like me?" I asked shocked. Oscar just nodded his head slowly. "Put the kid out of his misery and go out with him. I don't think I can take pining Oscar any more or watch him stalk your Instagram profile" Lando quipped. "Can you shut up Lando?" Oscar glared. "I would love to go out with you Oscar" I cut them off; "really?" Oscar asked. "Yeah, I mean you are my favourite driver on the grid" I stated. "Really" Oscar shouted making me and Lando jump. "Let's go now" Oscar said while holding my hand and dragging me out.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Boy Toys || CarLando

Summary: You invite your boyfriend’s ex-teammate to bed and he is more than willing to be your toy for the night. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, mmf threesome, mxm anal WC: 2.7k

“He wants you, amor,” Carlos teased the shell of your ear. Your boyfriend stood behind you, his hands on your waist and his body flush against yours. “He can’t stop looking at you.”

You looked at Carlos’ ex-teammate and found his blue eyes already watching you from across the bar and heat coursed your veins at the way he held his bottom lip pinched between his teeth. The younger driver had grown more handsome over the years since Carlos left McLaren but he clearly still had it bad for you, and Carlos was enjoying every second of it as his hands trailed up your body before curving over your ribs. Lando’s eyes dropped to the possessive touch that cradled the underside of your breasts and drew his attention to your nipples that were beginning to peak against the thin satin dress you wore.

“Stop bruising the poor guy’s ego,” you chuckled as you pushed his hands back down to your hips. You turned and draped your arms around Carlos’ neck, smiling sweetly as you tipped your head back to meet his eyes. “Or I might just have to go and kiss it better.”

Carlos’ hands spread over your ass and pulled you against him, his growing semi digging into your abdomen. A smirk played on his full lips and dirty thoughts danced across his face that you had always found easy to read. “Hmm, would you really?”

You rose onto your tip toes and nipped at his bottom lip before trailing kisses along his jawline. “Absolutely, I would even let you watch.”

Your ass burned with a sharp smack and he inhaled your moan as he kissed you with a harsh crash of his lips. “Go on then, amor, put him out of his misery.”

You grinned at the permission and slipped out of his hold to cross the room. The duo had been friends long before you started your relationship with Carlos and there had always been an undercurrent of sexual tension when the three of you were in a room together. You hadn’t been able to resist asking Carlos about it one night when your bodies were entangled. He admitted he felt it too but assured you nothing had happened, much to your disappointment. Things started to change after that night and Carlos grew bolder around Lando, playing on his desire and yours.

“You’re looking lonely,” you greeted Lando, draping your arms around his neck in an overly friendly hug. “Dance with me.”

He looked at Carlos, catching the smirk and the nod the Spaniard gave before turning to another friend who had called his name. Letting you drag him to the middle of the crowd where the room felt claustrophobic, Lando easily slipped into the space you made, his arms curving around your waist as the beat of the song echoed in his chest.

You tipped your head back on his shoulder as you swayed your hips to the music, enjoying the feel of his breath on your neck as he grew the courage to brush his lips over your racing pulse. The sweet perfume on your neck seemed more intoxicating than the drinks he had and he brushed his nose along your neck as he inhaled more.

“Make me sweat, make me hotter, make me lose my breath, make me water,” you sang along suggestively to the song and grinned when he groaned quietly.

“I wish…”

You turned in his arms and bit your lip as your hands roamed his body, slipping beneath the cotton shirt and over his abs. “What exactly would you wish for?”

“What?”

“If you had one wish, what would it be?”

Lando dared to dream as his hands slipped down your body to rest on your ass, growing bolder when you made no attempt to stop him. His lips brushed your skin as he dipped his head down to yours, resting cheek to cheek and whispering all the filthy thoughts he had imagined with you. Each one sent heat flaming across your body and your deep breath swelled in your chest, causing your breasts to brush against him. The satin teased your already stiff nipples and a soft moan tumbled out to caress his ear.

“We should get out of here,” you suggested as your heart began to beat between your legs, your core throbbing with need.

“We?” Lando asked, pulling back to catch sight of Carlos casually waiting by the bar still.

“He likes to watch…unless you want him to join.” You watched him swallow deeply, that damn kissable lip catching between his teeth again before he nodded.

“He likes to watch?”

You grazed your nails over his abs and felt them tense at the touch. “He likes to watch me play with my toys. Will you be my toy tonight?”

His hand was already grabbing yours with the need for a quick exit. “Fuck yes.”

You let him lead the way, nodding your head to Carlos and pointing to the corridor that led out of the bar. His swagger was confident as he placed his glass on the bar top and made his way out too.

“Where are we off to in such a hurry?” Carlos asked as he intercepted you by the door, casually leaning across the opening to block Lando. It left their bodies close and dark eyes drank in the younger driver whose hand still gripped yours. Lando froze, his eyes darting between you and Carlos with worry before a grin split your boyfriend’s face. “Relax, cabrón, I mean your hotel or mine.”

“Fuck, man, you gave me a heart attack.” Lando exhaled in relief before getting a little nervous, dropping your hand to scratch the back of his neck. “Uh, I don’t mind.”

“Ours,” you decided. “My toys are in the suitcase.”

Carlos’ eyes lit up at the thought. “You brought them through airport security, amor?”

You winked and ducked under his arm to start making an exit. “It was a private jet. I figured no one would check. Now are we going to have some fun or just me?”

The two drivers looked at each other and smirked.

The hotel door slammed shut and Carlos winced in apology but he was a little too eager to finish what started in the elevator. You could still feel Lando’s kiss on your lips and see Carlos’ eyes darkening with lust. You wanted more.

Lando crashed into you, his hands grabbing your waist to steady your steps as he guided you back to the bed. “You have no idea how long I have wanted this,” he confessed as those strong hands moved to caress your ass. 

A deep groan filled the air and it didn’t come from the man in front of you. “Oh, I know,” Carlos said as he pressed himself to your back and kissed your neck. “I’ve seen the way you watch her, cabròn.”

“The same way you look at each other,” you added, feeling them both stiffen against you. Neither pulled away, Lando’s hands still resting on your ass where Carlos’s front was pressed against them. “I think it’s hot as fuck.”

Lando was no longer looking at you but over your shoulder. “I thought you were just watching…”

Carlos’ heartbeat thrummed rapidly against your back. “If that’s what you want.”

The silent question hung in the air and you held your breath waiting for it to settle. There was no expectation from Carlos because he was absolutely happy to just watch, you could feel it from the large bulge digging into your ass, but you had seen the longing to join as well. 

Lando’s hand moved and you feared he was pulling away until Carlos moaned. Your thighs pressed tight in search of friction as you felt Lando stroking Carlos over his jeans and you felt them both shiver in anticipation.

“How attached are you to this dress?” Lando asked.

“I love it, but I’ll love it more the faster it comes off.” 

His smirk grew and he reached for the thigh split, his strength easily overcoming the sewed join as he ripped it all the way to the top. The material fell open, only kept up by the thin straps over your shoulders, until Carlos brushed them off.

“Dios mio.”

Carlos chuckled at Lando’s poor pronunciation and ran a hand down the curves of your body. “Is that all you have learned from me, carnal?”

“I can’t think of anything when you do that,” he admitted. “You’re so fucking lucky.”

You weren’t quite sure who he was saying it to and you shared a smile with Carlos as you saw the same thought pass across his eyes. “I’m feeling pretty lucky right now,” you teased as you took Carlos’ hand and guided it to the juncture of your thighs. “I have two very handsome men with me, except they are completely overdressed.”

You stepped away from them and climbed onto the bed, taking a seat at the headboard. “You can’t join me until you are naked.”

Lando nearly fell over as his legs tangled in his jeans but he kicked them aside and tore his shirt over his head. Carlos was more content to remove his shirt and unbuckle his belt before taking a seat on the couch in the room. He could see how eager his friend was and was willing to let him have some unbridled fun before he joined in. 

“Go ahead, carnal,” he encouraged when he saw Lando stop and look back.

“Told you he likes to watch,” you said as you rose to your knees and met him in the middle of the bed. You combed your fingers through his hair and looked into his pretty puppy eyes, he was waiting for your guidance. You decided you quite liked looking into his eyes and pushed his chest, forcing him onto his back. “You still wanna be my toy tonight?”

“Yes, fuck yes.” He cradled your ass as you climbed up his body, straddling his chest as you looked down at him. “Use me, baby, I’ll do anything you want.”

You smirked at Carlos as you shifted and felt Lando’s tongue flick out and swipe your slit as you settled over his face. Lando’s moan quickly followed the taste before he gripped your hips and tugged you down on his lips. Like a starving man, he devoured your pussy, licking and sucking you into a frenzy until your moans grew louder, urging him on further.

“Spank her, carnal,” Carlos urged, his voice tense as he gripped his cock tightly and leaned closer in the chair. “Make her come screaming your name.”

You rocked your hips over his face as he fucked you with his tongue and jolted with the sudden flame that kissed your ass. “Harder,” you breathed as your eyes fluttered shut and your thighs clenched around his head. Lando’s hand scorched your cheek again and your head fell back as the heat spread to your cunt, spilling over his lips in waves as you cried out his name.

Then, you were airborne. Lando’s muscles tensed as he sat up with you still riding out your orgasm on his face. He flopped you onto the pillows and chuckled at the fucked out look in your eyes but he wasn’t finished with you as he buried his face back between your legs and added two thick fingers to your cunt. Your back arched as your pussy clamped around the digits, tight from the orgasm that still sent pulses throughout your body.

“Dios mio,” Carlos groaned as he rose from the bed and walked around to the drawer on your side. Your eyes could barely see him as they rolled back into your head but you heard the click of the cap from the bottle of lube. “Keep going, hermoso.”

You hadn’t noticed Lando had stopped, you were too busy watching Carlos kneel onto the bed behind Lando. The younger driver's legs were spread where he lay on his stomach between yours and his toes curled at the touch of the cold gel on his ass.

“I’ll warm it up,” Carlos promised as he gently massaged the lube around Lando’s hole, drawing a low moan from him.

You were glad the pillows held you up because your body was not functioning right as you watched Lando’s eyes close and his teeth bite his bottom lip at the finger Carlos worked inside him. Lando’s breath tickled your thighs as he moaned deeply as you combed your fingers into his curls.

“You like that, baby?” you asked knowingly. “You want Carlos to fuck you?”

“Yes…please,” he whimpered with need, rocking his hips to take it deeper. “I want him.”

Carlos added a second finger and you gasped as Lando buried his teeth in your thigh and pumped his fingers into your cunt at the same pace.

“I want you too,” Lando moaned, peering up from between your legs with dark eyes.

You looked over his shoulder to see Carlos squeezing a generous layer of gel down his thick length, lazily stroking it to spread it evenly. He was ready, and you were more than ready.

“Come on then, handsome, fuck me like you could only imagine. Take me how you want,” you dared, remembering his wish that he whispered in your ear.

“You’re going to fucking kill me,” Lando groaned as he knelt on the bed and flipped you over, pulling you hips up so you were on all fours. “And I’ll die happy.” He snapped his hips forward and buried himself in your pussy, the warm wet walls clenching around him until he bottomed out and you both moaned at how good it felt.

“Ready, hermoso?” Carlos asked as he positioned himself behind Lando, teasing his tip around his hole before gently pushing against the resistance.

Lando didn’t answer out loud. He pulled out of you, pushing himself back onto Carlos’ cock and his breath froze in his lungs as the fullness grew inch by inch. “Fuck…” he moaned breathlessly, stopping for a moment to adjust before he dragged his hips forward again and filled you.

“I’m not sure who is the toy now,” Carlos teased as Lando set himself a steady pace of fucking you and then fucking himself agaisnt Carlos with each thrust and retreat. You didn’t care if he was using you at the point, you were so far gone in your pleasure you weren’t sure you were ever going to come down. “But fuck this feels good. Your ass is perfect, cariño.”

Lando moaned at the praise and sped up, the sounds of bodies slapping together filling the hotel room just as loud as your moans. The bruising grip on your hips tightened and you reached between your legs to press a finger to your puffy clit. The growing tightness in your body surged with the added stimulation and your legs began to tremble before a fresh wave of pleasure rolled over you.

Your orgasm sent your walls pulsing around his cock and he cried out as it triggered his own, the hot ropes of his cum filling your cunt until it dripped down your quaking thighs. Carlos bit his full lip as Lando’s body clamped down around his cock and it was all too much to resist his own release. Spanish tumbled from his lips as he buried himself as deep as he could, the weight of his body pinning you to the mattress beneath Lando. Lando cried out again as he felt Carlos’ cock pulse inside him, the warmth of his seed spilling into him.

Carlos pressed a soft kiss to Lando’s shoulder before gently pulling out and collapsing to the bed panting. The weight lifted and you could breathe fully again as your boyfriend wrapped an arm around Lando, his fingertips dancing on your skin.

“That was…” Carlos couldn’t seem to find the word to describe it, but you understood.

“Yeah, it was,” you giggled.

“Definitely,” Lando confirmed, still panting in recovery as he started to sit up.

“Stay,” Carlos whispered as he pulled him back down between your bodies. “You don’t have to go.”

“Are you sure?”

You rolled over to face him and mirrored Carlos, curling an arm around his waist too so he was cocooned. “Definitely.”

[rafecameronssl4t]

Lunch with the family || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

A/n: been a hot min since I’ve posted dad!rafe and mabel

MASTERLIST (dad!Rafe au masterlist)

"The views are insane," Sarah mutters, her phone raised to capture the breathtaking scenery of Lake Como. The serene lake shimmered under the late afternoon sun, framed by the towering mountains and elegant villas scattered along the shore. "I know, it's so surreal," you respond, adjusting the sunglasses perched on your nose, the warmth of the Italiab sun gently caressing your skin.

The entire Cameron family had gathered here to celebrate Ward and Rose’s wedding anniversary—a grand affair that seemed to fit the lavish surroundings perfectly. Your gaze drifts, inevitably landing on Rafe who was sat on the table in the patio, engrossed in conversation with Ward. His fitted Ralph Lauren shirt accentuated his broad chest and sculpted biceps, clinging perfectly to his figure.

The subtle grown-out buzz cut he now sported framed his face in a way that made him look even more ruggedly handsome, and you couldn’t help but admire the way the soft breeze tousled his hair just so. There was something magnetic about him—something you couldn’t quite shake. He caught you staring, his piercing eyes meeting yours, and a smirk slowly curved onto his lips.

He winked, a playful glint in his gaze, causing your heart to flutter despite yourself. You returned the smile, warmth creeping up your neck, before quickly turning away, focusing instead on Wheezie and Mabel, who were happily playing together in the garden nearby. "Does anyone want any more pizza?" Rose’s voice suddenly cut through the peaceful scene as she stood up from the table, brushing crumbs from her dress.

"We're good, thanks, Rose—" Sarah began to reply, but her words were abruptly cut off by a high-pitched wail. The unmistakable sound of Mabel crying pierced through the air, causing everyone to turn in alarm. Your head whipped around, eyes widening as you saw Mabel sprawled on the grass, tears streaming down her tiny face. Gasps erupted around the table, chairs scraping against the stone patio Rafe, Rose, and Ward stood.

Wheezie stood frozen, her eyes wide with panic. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry. I looked away for just a second—" she stammered, voice shaky with guilt. You moved quickly, bending down to scoop Mabel into your arms. "It’s okay, Wheezie, don’t worry. It was just an accident," you reassured her, offering a soft smile. Gently bouncing Mabel, you inspected her for any signs of injury, "I know, baby, I know. But it’s okay," you cooed, soothing Mabel as she continued to cry softly in your arms.

Rafe was at your side in seconds, his frustration evident. "Wheezie!" he snapped, his tone sharper than intended as Mabel's cries intensified. "Rafe, it’s fine," you interjected quickly, placing a calming hand on his bicep in an attempt to soothe his agitation. He met your gaze briefly before focusing on Mabel, his expression softening as he took her from your arms, holding her protectively against his chest.

"You’re okay, baby. You’re okay," Rafe whispered, kissing Mabel’s tear-streaked cheeks while he rocked her gently. You rested a hand on her back, helping to calm her. Soon enough, Mabel’s eyelids grew heavy, her tiny body relaxing in Rafe’s arms. He continued to hold her close, his movements tender and sleepiness overtook her.

[ohproserpine]

viii. deer dolly

see all chapters here tags: fem! reader, alastor tweaking, VERY heavy warning for violence and blood, overdose, murder, DEATH, hunting, VERY graphic descriptions of injuries, vox being painfully obvious, vox malfunctions (lmao L), drowning, flooding, mentions of glass piercing skin, a gun, threats of death, valentino warning, alastor's demon form

Alastor's head snapped to the side, with a sickening crack accompanying the movement

"Show me," he snarled, his voice taking on an inhuman quality, heavily filtered by radio waves.

Without hesitation, Angel gestured towards the billboard, his expression blank.

"Get in there, and see for ya'self."

.

A few blocks away, at the Vox Tower.

The heavy door before you swung open to reveal a diner. Chandeliers hung from the lofty ceiling, the crystals casting shattered reflections of light across the expanse of golden tables below. The centerpiece of the room was an expansive aquarium, its transparent walls housing sleek, metallic sharks that glided gracefully through the rose-tinted waters.

Vox guided you inside with a hand on your back, leading you towards a secluded booth. He was dressed in a neat, crisp royal blue suit, perfectly matching the attire chosen for you by Velvette. She had dressed you in a stunning cerulean silk dress that hugged your figure in all the right places. The fabric flowed gracefully as you moved, the long skirt sweeping across the floor with every step of your white heels.

"I didn't realize there was a restaurant tucked away in here," you whispered, your eyes widening in awe as you took in the glowing ambiance of the place.

"Well, we at VoxTek are full of surprises, my dear," Vox chuckled smoothly as he moved to pull back the chair at your table. "It's quite a diverse company."

"I see," you murmured, a sense of intrigue coloring your tone. Taking a step closer, you sank into the plush seat, a soft hum of contentment escaping your lips as you settled in. Vox pushed you in before taking his seat across from you. With a snap of his finger, he gestured for a nearby waiter to approach.

Once the menus were presented, Vox glanced over at you expectantly. "Feel free to order whatever you'd like, my dear. Consider it a treat for all your hard work." A waiter slid over a tablet for the bill, and Vox pulled out a sleek black card which he quickly swiped. "Take your time. We have all night to go over your contract."

Grateful for the gesture, you returned a smile before turning your attention to the menu, scanning the options while Vox took a sip from his glass of wine, the scarlet liquid swirling.

Before the moment could continue, however, a sudden wave of static crackled through the room, causing the tables to tremble, drinks spilling and tabletop decor tumbling aside as the lights flickered erratically. Startled, Vox choked on his drink, coughing as he accidentally spilled it on himself.

You looked around in worry, confusion furrowing your brow as you whipped your head around to assess the situation. A few of the patrons were talking amongst themselves in hushed tones, their concern mirroring your own.

"What was that…?" you asked, your voice barely audible above the din of the lingering static.

"Second fucking time," Vox grumbled under his breath as he attempted to wipe the wine off his crisp white dress shirt, but his efforts only seemed to smear the stain further across his chest. The crimson stain stark against the pristine fabric made it look as if he was just mauled.

With a resigned sigh, he abandoned his futile efforts and without a care in the world, tossed the soiled tablecloth back onto the table. Despite the mishap, he flashed you a reassuring smile.

"I'm sure it was nothing, my dear. Just a temporary glitch in the system. I'll have my workers look into it later," he said, waving it off.

Vox clapped his hands with a sharp, authoritative gesture, summoning a few waiters to swiftly clean up your table and retrieve the menus from your hands. They rushed over with a sense of urgency, their movements swift as they began tidying up the contents, the clatter of plates and silverware echoing through the air.

Meanwhile, a tall, slim blonde receptionist approached, her steps slow as she made her way towards Vox. Her slender fingers pushed her slim red glasses up on the bridge of her nose, accentuating the sharpness of her eyes as she addressed you both with a polite nod of her head.

"Mister Vox," she began, tapping a pen along her clipboard. "I have a few tables available for you upstairs. Would you like to transfer while we get the ground floor cleaned up?"

"Do that for us, will you?" Vox nodded, standing from the table with a sigh you couldn’t hear but could see in the slump of his shoulders. Straightening up, he brushed invisible dust off the front of his jacket and suit pants with swift, agitated motions.

"This day has been nothing but shit to me. The hell even was that?" Vox muttered under his breath as he glanced down at his watch, a luxurious 10-million soul bucks carat model he had allowed himself to purchase a few moons ago. "Alright. Time is ticking. Let's not waste any more time and move somewhere else, love."

With a nod, you followed suit and stood up, mirroring his movements as you prepared to leave the table. But before you could take a step, another round of static swept through the room, much stronger this time. The vibrations pulsed through the floor, causing you to stumble and grasp onto the table for support. The lights flickered and dimmed before abruptly going out, enveloping the room in darkness.

"What the fuck?" Vox snarled, the glow of his screen casting eerie shadows in the darkened environment as he turned sharply to the receptionist, the faint illumination of his face acting as a temporary flashlight.

"Get this checked out, will you?" Vox hissed.

"Of course, Mister Vox," the receptionist nodded briskly, maintaining her composure despite the chaos unfolding around her. Her pen scratched against the paper as she made a note of his request. "I'll have someone look into it right away."

"Satan. Alright, come on, doll," Vox called for you and slipped his hand into yours, interlocking them together with a firm grip. Reluctantly, you accepted his hand, feeling a sense of unease creeping over you as you followed him towards the staircase.

Together, you ascended the steps, the lingering sensation of static still hanging heavily in the air like an ominous fog. Another wave swept through the atmosphere, causing your skin to tingle with prickles and sending a shiver coursing up your spine.

Something was off.

The second floor was eerily quiet, devoid of the bustling activity in the ground floor. The subdued murmurs of the remaining patrons echoed faintly against the walls. You noticed that some of the only patrons left were already making their way down the stairs, their hurried footsteps punctuating the hushed atmosphere as they descended the glass steps.

As you scanned the area, your eyes landed on a TV perched high on the wall. Whatever show had been playing before was now reduced to nothing but static and glitches, its wires crackling with electricity like an angry serpent. Thin wisps of smoke curled up from the tangled mess.

"Doll?" Vox turned his head, catching your wandering eyes with a knowing look.

"I apologize for all this trouble, my dear, but worry not, everything will be handled in a jiffy," he reassured you, his thumb tracing soothing circles over your skin as he guided you by the railings.

Leaning his elbows against the metal, he took your hand into both of his, kneading and caressing it as he grumbled to himself. "If I knew this was going to happen, I would have taken you out another night."

"Well, there's no way you could have seen that coming," you muttered as you turned your gaze towards the ground floor. Below, various demons and imps scurried around, attempting to manage the chaos. With a shrug, you moved to lean against the railings, the cool metal soothing against your skin.

Resting your cheek on your free hand, you continued, "I mean, there's always another day. We can even hash out the contract right now."

At your words, Vox visibly deflated, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he cast you a dry look. "Always so professional, are you?"

"Yes?" you replied with a nod, tilting your head in genuine curiosity. "Is that bad?"

"No, not at all," Vox huffed, a barely concealed smile playing at the corners of his lips as he pulled you closer to him. "It's actually quite charming."

With a yelp, you stumbled into his arms, your hands pressing against his chest for balance. Vox leaned in further, his left hand coming to rest on your back, his touch gentle yet firm as he looked deep into your eyes.

"But would it be bad to say I wanted something more?" he murmured, a pinkish gradient tint glowing softly on his screen, casting a warm and inviting glow across his features.

You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden intimacy. "Something more?" you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper.

His gaze softened, his thumb gently tracing the curve of your cheek, his touch tender against your skin.

"Yes, my dear," he murmured, trailing his thumb down to press and part your lips. "Something… personal."

"I-I don't really get what you're telling me," you stammered, your heart pounding in your chest. As Vox leaned in closer and closer, you found yourself backing away until you could no longer retreat, your back arching dangerously over the railings.

"Then perhaps it's best if I show you," he whispered, his voice barely above a breath, as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.

Popping the lid open, a familiar golden band sat inside, glimmering softly in the dim light of the room. Your eyes widened with recognition, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

"My ring," you gasped, your fingers trembling slightly as you reached out to pluck the precious jewelry from its box. However, your hand halted in midair as you noticed an unfamiliar engraving gleaming on its honey-colored surface. A wavy symbol was etched onto it, its silver detailing standing out against the smooth gold of the ring.

"Vox, what's… what's this?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly as your eyes darted back and forth between the two sights. You could feel a hot fire starting to coil in your gut, your skin already slowly cracking. "What'd you do?"

Vox's expression remained impassive for a moment before softening with a touch of vulnerability. "It's a symbol, my dear," he explained, his voice gentle as he slowly took your hand and raised it to his lips. "A symbol of our… partnership."

"Partnership?" you echoed, your eyes tracing the movement of his lips as he pressed a gentle kiss to your fingers.

"You'd make a good wife," he blurted out, catching you off guard. Your gaze shot up to meet his, wide with surprise, as his declaration hung in the air between you. "I could provide for you. I could make you happy. Give you anything, anything you want."

A clawed hand, its digits tipped with sharp, pointed nails, delicately plucked the ring out of its velvet cushion. Taking your hand in his, he gently slipped the ring onto your finger, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. Before you could even process what had just happened, a wave of static washed over the room, crackling through the air like tiny bolts of lightning, causing him to curse under his breath.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" he growled.

The room trembled again as another wave of static hit, this time with greater intensity than any of the past waves. The floors shook beneath your feet, the building groaned in protest, and you stumbled forward with a gasp, your knees buckling under the force of the tremors. Desperately, you reached out to grab onto Vox for support, clinging to him as the world seemed to tilt and sway around you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the receptionist stumbling toward you both. Her calm demeanor had vanished, replaced by frantic movements and panic in her voice.

"Sir, sir!" she huffed, her words punctuated by labored breaths as she stumbled to her feet. Her hair was disheveled, and her clothes were torn. "The building is under attack!"

"Attack?" Vox scoffed out in disbelief, his shoulders shaking from his laughter. "Who in Lucifer's name would even think of crossing me?"

The receptionist shook her head vigorously, her eyes wide with terror, strands of her disheveled hair clinging to her sweaty forehead.

"The radio demon," she rasped out, her voice barely above a whisper, laden with fear.

You froze, your hands shaking as they moved to cover your gaping mouth. Another wave of static shook the building, but your thoughts were scattered, unable to focus amidst the chaos.

Vox's grip tightened on you and the handle of the railings, his claws raking against the metal with a sharp scrape. His expression slowly shifted, the laughter fading as a dangerous seriousness settled over him. He took a deep breath, shutting his eyes briefly before looking back at the receptionist with a dark glint in his eyes, a storm brewing within him.

"What did you just say?"

Before a response could be made, an explosion thundered through the floor, sending debris and dust swirling through the air. In shock, you watched as tendrils of inky shadows began to writhe and thrash, lashing out and slamming into the walls with bone-shaking force.

A particularly powerful tendril crashed against the aquarium, its force shattering the glass and unleashing a deluge of water that flooded down through the ground floor, drowning the patrons below. The sharks were caught in the torrent, their powerful bodies tossed and thrashed about as they were swept away.

Another tendril snaked its way through the dust, wrapping around the receptionist with a vice-like grip before flinging her high into the air like a ragdoll. The desperate cries of the poor woman echoed through the room before abruptly falling silent as she slammed into a wall with a sickening thud.

"Fuck—" Vox cursed, pulling you into him. His arms tightened around you protectively as he scanned the scene, his eyes darting around in search of any functioning piece of technology that could offer an escape and allow him to teleport you both out. However, his efforts proved futile; every piece of tech in the room was malfunctioning, either from the rampant waves of static or the overflow of water from the shattered aquarium.

Creak.

Suddenly, there was a deafening sound, cutting through the air and the chandelier above you both began to tilt dangerously, its crystals catching the flickering light before it started falling. Vox's curses mingled with the din as he swiftly scooped you into his arms, his muscles straining under the weight as he sprinted away just in the nick of time. With a thunderous crash, the chandelier came hurtling down, shattering into a thousand glittering fragments upon impact with the floor.

The glass shrapnel, propelled by the force of the chandelier's collapse, began to ricochet in your direction. Reacting swiftly, Vox made a split-second decision and hurled you over the railing and onto the ground floor. Screaming, you landed with a thud, the shallow water from the shattered aquarium splashing around you, soaking your dress and sending a shiver down your spine. However, Vox's own descent was less fortunate. As he jumped to follow, a few sharp glass shards found their mark, piercing his metallic body, tearing through his frame, and exposing the wires beneath.

"Ah…" Pushing yourself off the floor, you grappled with a moment of hazy confusion before a shock of fiery pain shot up your leg, so intense that your body instinctively recoiled, nails clawing at the flooded floors. A scream threatened to escape your lips, but you bit it back, your breath catching in your throat. Your eyes blinked rapidly against the pain, struggling to adjust to the darkness surrounding you.

Everything blurred together in a mess of shadows and rushing water. Your breaths grew heavy and frantic, your heart pounding in your chest as you began to shake from the sheer intensity of the pain.

"Doll—!" Vox's voice crackled through the darkness, his form glitching and sparking from the water that seeped into his exposed circuits. Before his outstretched hand could reach you, shadowed tendrils snaked around him, yanking him away with a jolt and tossing him aside, sending him skidding into a nearby column.

You watched in horror, the dim light reflecting off the wet floor and casting eerie shadows on your face. Just then, the tendrils, like twisted serpents, slithered towards you, causing you to shut your eyes tight, bracing for the impending danger.

Time seemed to stand still as you lay there, your breaths shallow and rapid, every nerve on edge.

Still, nothing happened.

Slowly, cautiously, you dared to open your eyes, your vision blurred. As your sight cleared, you found yourself face to face with a familiar shadow.

"William?" you croaked out, your voice raspy from the exertion. William, Alastor's loyal shadow, perked up eagerly at the sound of your voice, its form undulating as it slithered around you, enveloping you in a gentle embrace.

With a weak smile, you raised a trembling hand to pat at the comforting darkness. "Hey, buddy…"

Your attention was abruptly torn away as a red blur darted towards the spot where Vox had been slammed into. Shock seized you, freezing you in place as you watched with wide eyes, feeling your pulse pounding against your chest and skull in a frantic rhythm.

William followed your gaze, his form stiffening as he silently scanned the area for any sign of danger. After a tense minute of no one seen nor heard, he turned back to you, his shadowy head tilting in confusion.

With quivering lips you uttered one name that had explained everything, "Alastor."

.

"Mgh!" Vox grunted as he collided with the wall. The sickening crack tore through his body as he crumpled to the floor amidst a splash of sparking wires, debris, and hanging metal. His systems went haywire, his vision obscured by flashes of glitches and static, each burst of light stabbing into his consciousness like searing knives.

Despite the system failures, Vox couldn't miss the sight of a familiar red-clad demon stalking towards him with a menacing grin etched on his face.

"You..."

Struggling to move, the overlord felt his arm pinned under debris, the weight pressing down on him like a vise, squeezing the air from his lungs. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he sucked in a breath. Each inhale felt like fire scorching his insides.

Finding the leverage, with closed eyes and clenched fists, Vox braced himself and pushed with one hand while the other pulled, every movement sending waves of torment shooting through his body like bolts of lightning.

There was a sickening crack, the sound drowned out by the deafening roar of static and electricity that erupted from him. His back arched involuntarily, nerves and sinew spasming, his body instinctively attempting to curl in on itself to shield against the onslaught of pain as he ripped his arm off. Opening his mouth to scream, Vox found no voice escaping, only a glitched, distorted wheeze.

"My, my," Alastor chuckled, his voice dripping with sadistic amusement as he watched Vox dry-heave from the pain, relishing every moment of his torment. "Good show! Ho-ho! It's always such a thrill to witness your suffering."

"Wh-Wh-What the fuck do you want, old man?" Vox's voice glitched out as he shakily got to his knees, beads of water dripping and soaking through his suit, mingling with the blood and grime that coated his skin. The stench of metallic decay hung heavy in the air, mixed with the acrid scent of burning wires.

"You've got some nerve coming for me straight at my base," he shouted out, his screen flashing with a fierce red hue. "I've got you at a disadvantage!"

Alastor raised a brow in mocking surprise, twisting his head side to side to survey the torn-up tower with exaggerated interest. "Who's at a disadvantage?" he quipped with a shrug, his tone laced with derision as he gestured casually at the chaos surrounding them.

"I'm not the one on my knees, old pal," Alastor mused, his tongue dripping with sinister amusement as he tapped his staff against the flooded floors, the sound echoing. In one, swift motion, a shadow shot out, piercing Vox's shoulder and pinning him back against the wall, the tendrils coiling around him like a vice.

"Fuck you!" Vox hissed, his anger boiling over as he shot out wires of his own. Alastor made no attempt to dodge, staying put as the wires struck through his shoulder, flesh and muscle spraying out in a grisly display. Despite the gruesome injury, Alastor seemed unfazed, tilting his head with an audible crack, his grin widening into something unsettling.

"Sloppy," Alastor spat, blood trickling down the side of his mouth and dripping down his chin. With deliberate slowness, he raised a hand to grasp at the wires, his fingers curling around them with a sickening creak as he pulled them out.

"What the fuck are you even here for?!" Vox screamed.

"Funny you should ask," Alastor mused, his empty gaze boring into Vox's screen. Shadows wrapped around his injured shoulder, forming a makeshift bandage, while his other tendrils reached out, snaking towards Vox's ankles and forcibly dragging him forward. The demon fell onto his back, briefly submerged in the water as he was pulled towards Alastor.

Humming, Alastor slammed his foot down on Vox's torn arm, eliciting a scream of pain as sparks shot out. Chuckling, the Radio Delon hand came down hard, driving Vox's own wire into his eye with a sickening crack, causing the screen to fracture in a spiderweb of cracks.

"I'm here for my wife."

"Wife?" Vox narrowed his eye at Alastor in confusion for a moment, his screen flashing with red, blue, and yellow hues, before widening in recognition at the sight of a golden glint on Alastor's mangled, clawed hands.

Immediately, he snarled, his voice barely audible over the glitches and static, "I ain't telling you shit."

"Oh," Alastor drawled slowly, twirling his cane in his hands with a devilish grin. "You will."

Alastor moved with startling speed, lunging forward to grasp Vox's arms with his bare hands. With a vicious snarl, he began to tear at Vox's chest cavity, his claws digging into the metal casing with a sickening screech as he began to pull it off. Vox screamed in pain, his systems protesting against the assault, but he fought back, unleashing a flurry of sparks and glitches in a desperate attempt to break free.

"Old piece of shit!" Vox roared, his words dripping with venom as he punctuated them with a furious pound of his fist against the ground. Leaning up, he lunged forward, his hand shooting out to scratch at Alastor's eye with a scream of rage. "Radio's fucking dead!"

"You've got quite the fight in you, don't you?" Alastor's laughter echoed through the room as he jolted back from Vox's retaliatory strike.

With a casual flick of his hand, he wiped the crimson blood from his cheek, strands of his hair falling over the new scar that marred his face. "But I'm afraid spirit won't be enough to save your worthless life."

Alastor leaned down, his muscles tensing as his fist crashed into Vox's broken eye with a crack, causing the screen to fracture further. Lifting Vox by his collar, Alastor brought him closer to his face with a snarl.

"Radio killed the video star."

Alastor's tendrils coiled like vipers ready to strike, but before he could unleash them, a sudden crash of debris behind him jolted his attention. With a swift twist of his head, he peered over his shoulder.

Against the backdrop of the dark brick wall loomed a disheveled figure, her rosy cheeks and tousled hair framing her big, doll-like eyes. The shimmering of a necklace with a delicate rose pendant around her neck caught his attention, and in an instant, he recognized you.

Your hand pressed firmly against the wall for balance, while his shadow, William, enveloped your waist, supporting your weight. The fabric of your dress clung to your drenched skin, torn in parts, with one heel missing from your sprained foot. Streaks of makeup ran down your face, smudged by tears that threatened to spill from your eyes. You sniffled, your face flushed with warmth as a burning pain spread to your throat, choking back every sob that threatened to escape.

"Al…"

Alastor didn't know what to do with himself.

Every muscle in his body tensed, locking him in place as if he were frozen in time. In his shock, Vox slipped from his grip, crashing to the ground in a heap of metallic clangs and crackling wires.

With cautious steps, he stepped forward, testing the waters, metaphorically and literally. To his surprise, there was no barrier, no force pushing him back, and no contract manifesting before him.

"Cher?" he called out, breathless.

The sobbing wail that escaped your lips was answer enough.

Heart pounding in his chest, Alastor rushed forward and caught you in a desperate hug. His arms enveloped your trembling form tightly, as if he could shield you from the world's horrors just by holding you close. You sobbed against him, your nails digging into his shoulders, your body going limp like a puppet whose strings had just been cut. His hand flew up to cradle the back of your head, his touch both tender and urgent, his claws grazing your skin slightly in his desperation.

The smile on his face long dropped. His muscles tensed as he whispered your name over and over again like a mantra, each repetition a plea to whatever higher power might be listening.

For the first time in decades, Alastor felt fear grip his heart in its grimy claws. His eyes remained wide open, unblinking, as if he feared that closing them would make you vanish before his very eyes.

"Mon cœur," you heard the dark timbre in his voice, the faint crackle of radio static lingering in the air. Your husband drew his head back, and you winced at the loss of touch, but he immediately dove back in, pressing his lips against yours in a long overdue kiss. The taste of his metallic blood flooded your mouth, but you couldn't bring yourself to care.

Sighing against his lips, you tilted your head and pressed yourself further against him and Alastor grunted in response, his clawed hands mapping up the curve of your hips and moving up to your chest, pressing his palm flat against your heart to feel its steady rhythm. It beat for him, raced and throbbed because of him

You trembled beneath his touch, more tears slipping from your eyes, dribbling down your cheeks.

"That’s it, cher," he hushed. "My sweet girl. You’re alright. Everything’s going to be alright."

His hand reached out, cupping both of yours firmly, causing your rings to clink together. His thumb gently traced over the back of your right hand, caressing the golden band.

Alastor paused, his fingertips gliding over the unfamiliar texture of an engraving on the ring, a curious furrow creasing his brow as he moved back in to examine your hands. You hesitantly allowed his inspection, silently noting the subtle twitches on his blank expression.

Despite the tenderness of his touch, Alastor's face remained devoid of his usual smile. His eyes flickered up to meet yours, silently asking for an explanation, and you answered the unspoken question immediately.

"Vox."

With just one word, Alastor immediately understood. A fleeting smile graced his lips as he pressed a final tender kiss to both of your eyelids before his grin returned in full force. he snapped his head back to face Vox, holding you close in his arms, supporting your weight due to your broken ankle. "It seems we have some unfinished business."

"Yeah, we fucking do," a new voice interjected, causing both you and Alastor to whirl around.

Velvette and Valentino made their presence known as they stood stoically by the entrance, their disheveled appearances and visible injuries painting a picture of the struggle that had unfolded. Every bruise, every torn piece of clothing seemed to speak on its own of the relentless assault Alastor had unleashed upon the building. It was clear that they had endured their fair share of the battle.

"Come."

Velvette reached her hand out, and you felt an odd sensation of tugging at your neck. Suddenly, a hot pink collar materialized around you, and before you could react, you were forcefully pulled forward with a sharp yank. The sudden movement caused you to stumble several feet, your injured ankle buckling beneath you with a jolt. A scream ripped from your throat, the intensity of the pain washing your vision with a blaring flash of white.

Valentino immediately grabbed you by the hair, wrenching you up as though you were nothing more than a prize to be claimed. "You want her? Well, we're going to have to make a deal," he taunted.

Something primal gnawed and snarled at Alastor's insides. Even in the brief seconds since you were torn away from him, the ache for your presence already began to consume him, searing through his veins like a wildfire. It cut him deeper than any of the physical wounds he received. He had just gotten you, and now you were being torn away from him once more.

He wanted to scream, to tear at his own flesh in anguish, to rip through the barriers separating him from you until he could hold you close once more.

And if he had to paint the sidewalks of hell with the blood of these vermin to achieve that, then he would stop at nothing to see it through.

"There's not going to be a deal. I doubt anything you can offer would be of any value," Alastor's grin twisted into a snarl, his eyes flashing red. With a swift motion, he slammed his staff against the floor, unleashing a blare of crackling energy and swirling shadows into the air. "I'm going to end your fucking lives."

"Ay, calm down," Valentino snarled, his voice dripping with menace as he spread his wings, casting a shadow over the room. Dipping a hand into his coat pocket, he drew his gun and pressed it tight against your temple, the cold metal sending a shiver down your spine. Sweat beaded on your forehead as the searing burn of the barrel pressed against your skin, a silent threat hanging in the air.

You didn’t realize you were crying until you felt Valentino's thumb run across your cheek, the demon cooing at you as if you were a child. Blinking away the tears, you opened your eyes to find Alastor's figure standing out vividly amidst the chaos, his red suit and hair glowing like fire against the darkness.

Like blood.

Alastor's entire body practically shook with anger, the shadows in the corners of the room writhing and twisting.

Their tainted blood should never dare to soil your skin, nor should the gaze of these wretches ever dare to tarnish your beautiful visage. In his eyes, you were pure and untainted, and above all, you belonged to him.

Only him.

"Now," Valentino chuckled, a twisted smile playing on his lips as he reached out to pet your head with a hand, his fingernails sharp and threatening. "It's really not worth the trouble. So why don't you stop this tantrum, grab your little bitch, and get out? She's not this fucking valuable to us."

"D-D-D-Don't!" Vox's voice crackled from his spot on the floor, his one functional arm trembling as he struggled to rise.

"Oh, shut the fuck up," Velvette scowled, her nails digging into the fabric of her torn dress as she hurled your contract towards Alastor with a vicious flick of her wrist. "Do we have a fucking deal?"

Alastor's hand shot out, snatching the contract mid-air before it could reach the ground. Holding it aloft, he tore it apart with a savage rip, the sound of paper shredding echoing like thunder through the room.

"Deal."

Instantly, the chains restraining you dissolved, and Valentino moved away from you. You felt a gentle tug as Alastor's swirling shadows guided you towards him. His arm enveloped you protectively, pulling you close as if shielding you from any further harm. His wide-eyed gaze remained fixed on Velvette and Valentino, a silent warning in his stance.

"I'll make sure you regret ever crossing us," Alastor declared with a menacing growl, summoning a swirling portal of shadows behind him as he slowly backed away, pulling you along with him. Before departing, he deftly removed your engraved ring from your finger and tossed it in Vox's direction.

"Radio isn't dead," Alastor snarked as the shadowed portals began to envelop you both, their inky tendrils curling around you like a shroud, "but this broadcast is coming to an end."

With that, you and Alastor vanished into the swirling shadows, leaving the three figures standing amidst the aftermath.

The building lay in ruins, reduced to disrepair. Water trickled down from the shattered remnants of the aquarium, its glass now fractured and broken, mingling with the thick dust that hung in the air like a shroud. From top to bottom, no room was left untouched by the devastation wrought on by the Radio Demon.

Velvette stood rigid in the center of the room, her figure shadowed as she bore her intense gaze into Vox. The TV demon scoffed dismissively, his broken screen flickering erratically, casting disjointed shadows across the room.

"I'm killing her," Velvette declared.

"Who?" Vox croaked, doing his best to sit up as Valentino helped him to his feet.

Velvette clenched her teeth, her frustration boiling over as she stepped forward and forcefully slammed her heels down on Vox's legs, sending him slamming back down, the sound echoing in the room. She spat in his fractured screen, her voice dripping with venom.

"I'M FUCKING KILLING HER!"

.

"Don'tcha worry about a thing, sweetheart!" Mimzy chirped cheerfully, her voice ringing out above the din of the crowded bar. Balancing a huge stack of beer in her arms, she maneuvered skillfully through the maze of tables, dodging patrons and obstacles with ease. The dim lights of the bar reflected off the bottles, casting shimmering patterns across the worn wooden surface, while the faint scent of alcohol lingered in the air, mingling with chatter and laughter.

Arriving at the table, a group of men erupted in hollers and cheers. Mimzy giggled in response, her laughter joining the chorus of noise as she shot a playful wink in their direction. With a bit too much force, she shoved the tray onto the table, causing the overflowing glasses to slosh and liquor to spill onto the tabletop.

"Enjoy!"

With a toss of her hair, she sauntered away, her heels echoing against the wooden floorboards as she made her way towards the entrance. The club was delightfully full tonight, and Mimzy could practically taste the mouthwatering green of money already.

But just as she reached the doorway, a hand grabbed her, yanking her out into the darkness beyond. The blonde's cheery demeanor disappeared in an instant as she found herself shoved up against a nearby wall.

The cold grime and mysterious mold clinging to the brick surface sent a shiver down her spine, the dampness seeping through her clothes and chilling her to the bone. The dim light from the bar seemed to fade into obscurity as the darkness of the alley enveloped her, suffocating her senses. Panic surged within her as she struggled against her assailant.

"Hey! What gives—" Mimzy began, but her words caught in her throat as she realized she was face to face with Velvette. The overlord looked disoriented and disheveled in the dimly lit alleyway, her clothes torn and her hair in disarray. Her eyes, usually sharp and calculating, now held a wild, frenzied glint.

"There you are," Velvette's grip on Mimzy's dress tightened, her nails digging deep into the fabric and piercing skin, sending a sharp twinge of pain through the blonde. "I've been looking for you."

The blonde recoiled as Velvette's claws trailed up her throat, leaving a trail of stinging scratches in their wake. The metallic smell of blood flooded her nose as one of Velvette's nails grazed over her skin, catching on the delicate chain of her necklace and tugging it slightly.

With a trembling voice, Mimzy managed to choke out, "Oh! W-What do you need me for, sugar?"

Velvette's lips curled into a sinister smile, the glint of her sharp teeth shining under the alley lights.

"Oh, just a little chat," she replied, her voice dripping with malice. "Aren't you curious about what's been happening in your absence? Some skeletons in a closet got dug up."

The blonde's eyes widened, her heart pounding in her chest as she realized the gig was up.

"I didn't—!" she started, but her protest was cut short by the sickening thud of Velvette's fist against the wall beside her. Cracks spiderwebbed across the brickwork, the crumbling debris cascading to the ground in a cloud of dust.

"Don't lie to me," Velvette hissed, as she leaned down to the blondes height, meeting her face to face. "You knew who she was. And you helped him."

"I-I didn't know," Mimzy lied straight through her teeth, trembling in her heels. "I swear, Velvette. I didn't know anything about his wife."

"Don't play dumb with me, bitch. You knew full well who she was," the overlord snarled.

With a derisive laugh, she threw her head back and added, "But you couldn't even keep it under wraps! You got fucking ratted out in less than 2 days!"

"No! No, I swear on my life, sugar!" Mimzy pleaded, her voice trembling as she shook her head, her golden curls bouncing around her shoulders. "I was just a stray bullet!"

But Velvette's expression remained cold and unforgiving, her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"You fucking liar," she spat, her voice dripping with venom.

A flash of silver caught Mimzy's eye, and she flinched as she saw the dagger in Velvette's hand. The cold metal glinted with a blue glow in the dim light of the alley, its edges sharp and sleek.

It was angelic iron, and the very sight of it sent bile rushing up her throat.

It hurt her eyes to look at the dagger, its presence filling her with a sense of dread she couldn't shake. But despite the fear coursing through her veins, she couldn’t tear her gaze away. She was frozen in place, like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car.

But then, there was a sudden blur of movement.

"Wait!"

A sharp, searing pain shot through Mimzy, causing her to gasp. The sensation of blood trickling down her skin sent waves of nausea through her, and she dry heaved, struggling to keep herself upright.

Her eyes remained locked on the smeared blood on the steel lodged in her, the sight both horrifying and mesmerizing. It was so revolting, so surreal, that she failed to suppress a shudder of dread as she stared at it, transfixed by the grim reality of her impending fate.

Coldness began to envelop her, seeping into her bones as the darkness closed in around her like a suffocating cloak. Dark spots danced at the edges of her vision as the edges of her consciousness blurred and faded. She felt herself slipping away, consumed by the shadows, as the alleyway swallowed her whole.

Velvette let the body drop, the dull thud echoing in the desolate alleyway. A twisted feeling of satisfaction flooded her veins, coursing through her with a sickening thrill.

The harsh glow of the streetlights cast eerie shadows across her features as she surveyed the aftermath of her actions. With a flick of her head, she turned away from the lifeless form, her cracked heels echoing against the cold pavement as she disappeared into the darkness, leaving behind a trail of crimson steps in her wake.

"And so it begins."

.

[endless-ineffabilities]

chemical override (5)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: the support for this fic has been amazing, so trust me when I say that I take no pleasure in all the angst and heartache that follows (or do I?) I'm sorry, readers. I'm sorry, Ewan. We'll sort this out somehow - all my love, Freyja <3

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

A beginning. A first date. Whispers, sightings abound. Falling in love. A necessary lie. Hearts breaking. An end.

Ewan stands in a studio backlot in LA, bouquet of flowers clasped in one hand while the other is nervously stuffed in his tracksuit pocket.

He's itching for a smoke, but he stops himself from doing so, in some lovesick attempt to keep himself as clean and nice-smelling as possible when he sees you again. He already mentally kicked himself for not dressing better, clad in his staple Adidas blacks. But he couldn't wait any longer.

His flight from New York to LA hadn't been the most pleasant. His mind raced for hours, the thought of you being his only consolation. His meeting did not go well.

But enough of it. There is you, here, now.

In this moment, you are all that matters.

The first couple of workers make their way out the studio doors, chatting enthusiastically despite their tired faces. Ewan shuffles on his feet, keeping an eye out for you. Soon enough, your assistant Clara exits, and he waves in an attempt to get her attention.

"Ewan!" she greets brightly. "She'll be out in a while. Are those flowers?" A blush materialises on her face, and she looks so excited Ewan awkwardly thinks she would take them for herself.

"Yeah, do you think she'll like them?" he asks, giving the bouquet a once-over. The classic dozen long-stemmed red roses, kept together with black-dyed muslin wrap.

"She'll love them!" As if perfectly timed, the doors open again, and they spot you walking out with several of your co-stars. Clara smiles to herself as she walks away to give you two some space.

When your eyes land on him, it's like everything falls into place, the ear-splitting smile you give him enough to quell any worries he might have. You meet each other halfway, melding together in an embrace so tight he nearly drops the flowers to the ground.

"Look who it is," you say, still wrapped in his arms, "the internet's babygirl."

"Just your baby, darling." He pulls apart, but only just enough to look at you. "I missed you."

"Mmm, I can see that."

You're about to comment on the flowers, but he can't hold back any longer.

And so your first proper kiss happens behind an LA studio, adjacent to the parking lot and surrounded by prying eyes. The burnt orange haze of the sunset peers from the horizon, casting a glow on the scene. And it's perfect. His lips are gentle as they dance with yours, his warm breath fanning your face when he breaks apart for mere milliseconds, only to resume the kiss as if he can never get enough.

A moment later, there's a couple of woohoos from a distance, your costars oooing and aahing at the sight, making you giggle against Ewan's lips.

"Shall we, then, darling?" Ewan asks.

"Shall we?" Your brows raise, mirroring his question.

"Our first date." He takes a step back, but only to ceremoniously hold his hand out for you to take. "Will you do me the honour?"

"Why, good sir, are we going on a regular date or some super fancy ball?" you laugh, lacing your fingers with his anyway.

He only smiles, planting yet another kiss on the corner of your mouth. "God, I missed you."

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You can't help but cast glances at him every now and then. Ewan, effortlessly cool as he drives the both of you across LA, with one veiny hand gripping the steering wheel while the other envelops yours on your lap.

His thumb draws circles on the back of your hand, and you're thankful for it; you need the comfort because you're growing nervous. A first date.

A first date! And not just with anyone.

"What is it?" he smirks, his eyes finding yours as the car idles at an intersection. There's a smugness there. He caught you staring.

You avert your gaze, a pleasant wave of heat rising to your face.

"Hmm?" he leans across, pecking your cheek and resting his forehead against your hair, eager to get a rise out of you. "I mean, I've been told I'm handsome, darling. You already know, something of a babygirl. But it's even more special that you think so."

The light turns green. You grab his jaw, and lightly push him away, raising your eyebrows. "Careful, baby," you smile knowingly. "Your Aemond is showing."

"Oh, yeah?" The car revs up again, rows of palm trees speeding past in a blur. "Does that - uhh - turn you on?"

Your head snaps to him at his bold insinuation. He gives off an unaffected air, smirking to himself in an undeniably hot what-are-you-gonna-do-about-it way. But you make him nervous too. He swallows, and clears his throat, anticipating your response.

"Maybe," you bite your lip, squeezing his hand harder, "but you don't need to put on your Aemond to turn me on."

"Just me, then?" he chuckles lowly, feeling lighter.

"Yup," you shrug. "But if you ever wanna put on a blonde wig and an eyepatch, I won't stop you."

"For when, darling?" Oh he knows what you meant. It's been a constant on his mind too. He's lost count of the nights when thoughts of you consume him, and what happy news it is that you might have been going through the same.

"Mmm... " You look out the window innocently, but you guide his hand higher up on your thigh, allowing his fingers to splay open and squeeze at the flesh covered only by the material of your jeans.

A minute passes. Driving past a street of exclusively only mansions and expensive cars. Then downtown, low-rise buildings as far as the eye can see. Another minute, slow and steady.

Then he says, "You're going to fucking drive me insane, baby."

A soft sigh escapes your lips. "Well, you started it."

He sneers, accompanied by a humourless shake of his head. "I think you overestimate my self-control." The air is thick, but it's quickly diffused when he pulls into a clearing. You realise you're out of the main road, the car slowly coming to a halt in an empty lot beside a low brick building.

"We're here, darling," he says, but he gives you a look that clearly means this matter isn't over. You have something of his, and he's going to claim it.

He half-jogs over to your side, opening the door for you and taking your hand in his.

"Where are we?" The building is nondescript, with a plain white facade, a small cafe and a laundromat on street level, both of which happen to be closed.

"Had to call in a favour from an old mate of mine. His family moved here from Derby a couple of years ago, and they own that laundromat over there," he explains, leading you inside through a door in the side alley.

You're met with a narrow flight of stairs and he gestures for you to go ahead. "What have you got up your sleeve, Mitchell?" you ask, excitement taking root as you climb up to the very top.

It only takes three floors before you reach the heavy steel door of the roof deck. He shuffles to your side, one hand on your back to keep you steady, and pushes the door open which relents with a loud squeak.

You're met with something you have only seen before on Pinterest boards - the rooftop is softly aglow from hanging string lights. In the far side, a screen projector is set up, and in front of it is a low plush sofa cocooned amidst throw blankets and cushions. There's a wooden tray on one on the blankets, containing treats of all sorts and a bottle of wine glistening in its ice bucket.

You take in the magical ambience of the scene with widened eyes. The haze of faint LA sunlight only serves to make everything more beautiful, though it seems hardly necessary.

"Do you like it, darling?" he asks and what a ludicrous question it is. Do you like it?

He continues, "I admit I didn't have to lot of time to set it up, and I had a bit of help but - mmmpph - "

You lace your hands around his neck, silencing him with a searing kiss. He moans unto you, his tongue dipping past your lips as he nearly relinquishes control. He could forget about the set up, the date he had planned, and just take you here on the rooftop. Would you let him?

"I take it that everything is to your liking?" he purrs, watching you in adoration as your head swivels on its own accord to canvas the scene yet again.

You spot something in the corner - a bouquet of fresh flowers surrounded by some lightweight paper lanterns.

"Oh no!" you moan. "The flowers you gave me... I left them in the car!"

He laughs fondly at the sheer panic on your face. "Don't worry about them, my love. I've got more flowers for you here." He points to the bouquet you just saw.

"But those ones... won't they wilt or something? I don't want them to go to waste."

His heart swells at your genuine concern. The furrow between your brows, the way you chew on your lip in worry, your fingers absentmindedly clutching his wrist - it all makes him fall even harder.

"They'll be fine, darling."

"Are you sure?"

He nods once, pulling you in, "Mhmm, just... come here, please." Another kiss, gentler this time.

This is bliss, he thinks, sweet solace after his days in New York, days he aims on forgetting from now on.

You eventually find yourselves on the velvet seat, the tray of food nestled on your laps. He pours wine into the paper cups as you reach for a chocolate-covered strawberry and bring it to his lips.

"Thanks, love," he mumbles with his mouth full.

"Oh, baby, you've got chocolate on there," you motion to his bottom lip.

He sets the cups of wine on the tray, making a move to wipe it off, but just as his fingers hover, his mind takes on an alternative action.

"You do it, then," he leans close, tilting his jaw.

"Okay." With a smile, you begin to oblige him, but you halt when he playfully says, "Not with your hands, darling."

You feel your heart race at his teasing, and at the way he stares at you with blatant desire. Never mind the fact that you were just making out moments ago. The rush of being with him has not subsided. Maybe it never will.

You kiss him, paying mind to the smudge on his lip, licking your own lips afterward to savour the taste.

You pull back slightly. "All better," you say, patting his cheek lovingly.

"Hmm," he hums, "I suppose I'll just have to make a mess of myself more often."

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Nightfall had already descended when the credits to The Princess Bride start rolling, dotting the sky with twinkling stars.

Ewan has his arm wrapped around your shoulders, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, before he declares, "If they ever do a remake to this film, I'll only take the role if you would be my Buttercup."

"As you wish," you smile, nuzzling closer against his black hoodie. "I remember watching this when I was a kid. Believe it or not, it was one of the films that inspired me to get into acting."

"Did you wanna be Buttercup, my Buttercup?"

"No," you respond. "I wanted to do what Inigo Montoya was doing. He's so insanely cool."

"Of course you did," he says affectionately, "my darling."

"What about you, hmm? Did you always want to be an actor?" you ask. You might have read an interview of his where he explains something to that effect, but he doesn't need to know that now.

"As far as I can remember, yes. It was always going to be acting for me. Even when everyone laughed it off when I brought it up in primary school." He shakes his head, the once bitter memory reduced to an anecdote. "I... I find purpose in what we do, being able to slip inside different skins, different lives. It allows me to explore the human psyche, you know, and to make sense of all this madness."

You listen intently, in awe at his words and his sheer sincerity. The world is made better with Ewan able to live his passions. And you feel fortunate that his life is one he may be willing to share with you, if everything goes well down the line.

"I almost forgot - you have to tell me about how your big meeting went."

He shifts slightly, eyes darting downward as he pouts on instinct. He realises he can no longer keep the subject under wraps.

You sense his reluctance, and immediately try to soften your approach. It could have gone either way, and though rejection is part of an actor's bread and butter - you certainly would know - there are some instances where you just let it get to you.

"Is this producer as scary as they say?" you ask lightly, poking his chest.

He smiles, but his expression is still clouded. "You know those mafia dons in Scorcese's movies? This guy practically inspired them, I'd say."

"Goodness."

"He did try to give off a welcoming air, but there was still something... sinister underneath."

"I suppose when anyone is afforded this much power..."

"Especially in this industry..."

"Mhmm." Face half-burrowed in the soft material of his hoodie, you tilt your head up at him. "So it was a bust, huh?"

He shrugs, "The role just wasn't for me. It's all for the best, I reckon."

You hold his hand tight, eager to soothe any worries he might have. "That's a shame. They would have been damn lucky to have you."

He smiles, flattered by your comment. "I am lucky to just be here with you, darling."

You smile in return, tilting your lips to his, coaxing him to lean in close and seal the kiss.

And he does.

And this is the most perfect first date there ever was or ever will be.

"Darling?"

"Hmm?"

"I think I've fallen in love with you."

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The next few weeks pass blissfully slowly, you and Ewan caught in the euphoria that only a fresh relationship can bring.

Rehearsals for your upcoming movie had ended, and you get a month off before filming begins in Atlanta. Ewan also stays in LA, keen on spending every waking minute with you. His team takes advantage of the situation, booking him for several interviews and a feature with Esquire. You were more than happy to accompany him - or rather, distract him - on these occasions.

Once, the team even jokes that you had to stay in the other room because Ewan keeps looking over at you behind the camera and forgetting what to say. Ewan, of course, quickly protests. "My girl stays with me," he confidently says.

It doesn't take long for news to spread. Rumours, at first. Allegations bred from blurry fan photos and supposed encounters with yourself and Ewan while out in LA.

They were holding hands!

They're not just friends, I swear. He was kissing her the whole time in the restaurant!

What about her and Jacob? I thought they'd been dating all this time?

House of the Dragon stars spotted on a date in Hollywood!

Headlines. Gossip fodder. Statements made by people who claim to have seen you.

Sure, you do meet some of the sweetest and friendliest fans during all this, who only gush at the sight of their favourite actors getting together.

There are others, especially online, who are less pleasant, accusing you of cheating on your supposed lover Jacob Elordi.

Jacob, already used to rolling with the punches, gives you a call so the two of you can laugh it off together.

"I'm happy for you, mate," he expresses, voice muffled from the other line. "You and Ewan... you guys just make sense. Do you remember that night when he stormed in all jealous like? Holy shit..."

As if on cue, Ewan shifts underneath the sheets from behind you, peppering your naked back with soft kisses. "Tell him I said hi," he whispers, his tone doing nothing to mask his possessiveness.

And so the days roll on, and it couldn't be more perfect.

That is, until the first cracks started to show. As they always do.

You're in a meeting with your publicist Mallory, at one of the many quaint hipster cafés in LA, discussing your upcoming filming schedule and the other things you have booked in between.

"You've got a busy few months ahead, but the film is of course top priority," she says. "It's slated to be the top rom-com of next year."

"That's great, Mal."

"I mean, I think you know that Ewan was meant to lead that romance-fantasy franchise? That's a big deal, and people are saying it'll be bigger than Twilight!" she gestures wildly with her hands. "But since he had a falling out with Bruce Haversham - and trust me, if he ever sets up a meeting with you, you do not want to go against him - what was I saying? Oh yeah, the release for that will be delayed so your film will get prime spot for a summer premiere."

You grow apprehensive at her words. Ewan never got into detail about that meeting, and you didn't really want to pry. But if that producer's reputation is indeed accurate, it doesn't bode well for Ewan's career that he might have done anything that displeased him.

With a sickening dread, you realise that Haversham might have something to do with Ewan failing to book the two films he went for in the past month. Despite the fact that the local casting director practically raved about his audition, and stated that he pretty much had both of the roles in the bag.

"Mal, you know Donna right? Ewan's publicist?" you ask, knowing that she and Donna are under the same agency. "Does she talk to you about Ewan at all? About what went down in New York?"

"A little, honey, yes," she admits. "But about that meeting, I thought you would know. He didn't tell you?"

"Not in too many words, no. Just that it didn't work out, and that the film wasn't meant for him."

"Oh, I see," she smiles, almost ruefully, like she feels sorry for you. That look compels you to ask, "What do you know, Mal? Tell me."

Her hand reaches and clutches yours atop the table. "From what I heard, he refused the role because of you."

"What?"

"It's rare with young actors like you guys, to be so devoted so early on."

Growing impatient, you say, "Mal, please, what are you saying?"

"Look, I don't know the details of it. But apparently Haversham wanted him to get into a PR stint with his love interest for the film, and to hide whatever real relationship he has going on with you. This ordeal was going to be more restrictive than the arrangement you have with Jacob, which is more or less over at this point."

"I didn't know that," you whisper hoarsely.

"Honey, don't worry about it," she consoles you, taking a sip of her coffee. "Like I said, I don't know much. I can get you in touch with Donna if you want to speak with her? I'm 100% positive it's not all bad. There's one thing we can be sure of, at least!"

You look at her expectantly, unable to formulate a guess.

"That boy loves you!"

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

With only a few days left before filming, you had begun to make the final preparations before moving to Atlanta.

It's a late night, one laden with anxiety and nervous jitters, and the several shots of whiskey you had just taken do little to keep the walls from closing in.

Although, perhaps, it is better if they do. If they imprison you, even just for tonight, to keep you from whatever it is you plan to do.

It's for the best. I have to do this. I'm doing this for him, you keep telling yourself. You keep repeating the lies, letting them bounce relentlessly in the walls of your mind, until you fool yourself into thinking them to be true.

You had met with Donna a few days prior, and the whole situation was made clear to you. You didn't know for certain when the decision formed in your mind, but it's there, as real as the love you feel for Ewan.

The love you will have to bury.

He picks you up in his rental Rover, after you told him that you wanted to go for a drive. But you ask him to park his car behind the private apartment building where you're staying.

The car grinds to a halt, like a signal for you to get it over with. There is no going back now.

"Ewan... I - " You can't push the words out, more so when he reaches for your hands and squeezes. He looks at you with those eyes, expecting anything but what you're about to say.

"I'm sorry," you try again, and your voice breaks. His face slowly drops, the mood instantly changed, but the worse is yet to come.

"What are you sorry for, darling?" He rubs his thumb along your cheekbone, the sensation willing you to just abandon your plan completely. To abandon the lie.

"Whatever happens..." Just get it over with. "...I want you to know that I'll always be here for you. We are friends first, aren't we?" Peel the bandaid. Rip it off. Let it bleed.

"I'm afraid I don't follow," he says.

You sound robotic, emotionless. But one wrong turn and the floodgates may break. There's a lump in your throat and you push it down. Reminding yourself to act - use your fucking acting skills if you actually have any. Now's the time. "We can't be together, Ewan."

There it is, sounding itself into existence, ruining the love you have in front of you.

His hand drops, as if he recoils back into himself. Away from you. It's cruel, but you know you will have to do more damage. You have to make it stick. This becomes clear when he says, "No", with conviction. "No, darling," he repeats. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Ewan - "

"You're not being funny, darling." He tilts his head, testing you, giving you the chance to retract your words and start laughing at your twisted joke. Darling comes out a mockery, something to say out of spite.

He takes a deep breath, leaning back in the driver's seat. "I don't... I don't accept this." He looks straight ahead, his lips pursed and jaw taut. "Fucking... why ?"

"I just... don't think it's going to work out."

"Bullshit."

Your words come out rushed, "You should take that role. I don't want you to hold back just for me. This could be something really great for you, Ewan. This could be it! Most actors pray for an opportunity like that to come along and I wouldn't want you to - "

"That's the reason?"

" - refuse it because of me. So we should - "

"Stop."

" - end this."

Silence. Not a single sound in the near-empty parking lot. No sirens in the distance, no pedestrian chatter. Just slow, heavy breathing in this rental car, both of you looking out the windshield. It feels stuffy all of a sudden, and not in the heated way when your limbs entwined in a jumble in the backseat a mere week ago.

"Please. I... I don't want to end this," he pleads. His knuckles are bone white, harshly gripping both sides of the steering wheel in an attempt to anchor himself. He shakes his head, and with some sense of hope, he says, "I don't care about that role. Okay? It's not the end of the world if I don't accept it. Have some faith in me, darling. I'll make it work. Surely there are plenty of other things down the line."

"Ewan," you whisper. You knew he would say this, which is why you prepared something worse. If that were even possible. You suck on your teeth, pulling on whatever poison you keep hidden away. You sigh and look away, a gesture that lets him know nothing will change your mind. "This fucking PR relationship business... it gets to you, you know? We don't know any better. I for one never expected to feel this way about - "

"About?" he finally turns to shoot you a look of betrayal, the pain in his eyes clear as day.

"I might have feelings for Jacob," you lie, "or I might not, I don't know. But there's something there, and I... I can't let this - us - go on while I'm conflicted about everything. It wouldn't be right."

Nothing about this is right.

But you go on, "I'll be off filming, with him, for a couple of months. And it's only going to make everything more confusing, and it wouldn't be fair to you, I know that - "

"I love you."

It's the first time he ever utters those three words, completely and without any doubt. He says them, despite everything you said before. And he means it.

A tear falls down your cheek, and you squeeze your eyes shut to keep the rest at bay.

"I'm sorry," you look at him, in finality, and you want nothing more than to passionately kiss him hard on the mouth, to hold on to him tight and plead for him not to let you go. With your quivering form, you amble out of the car. Every step worsens the weight of what just transpired. His side of the car opens, and he calls for you, but you can't bear to look back.

He catches up to you, breathless and with a wild look in his face. His blue eyes swell with tears, but his brows are scrunched down as if he isn't bothered by them.

"I want you to look me right in the eye and tell me we don't matter. I want you to tell me you don't love me," he says, and it's the most vulnerable you've ever seen him. He searches your eyes for something, anything to hold on to. Part of him is still desperate enough to grasp at straws, on the hope that you will change your mind.

But the other hardened part, has become angry. Indignant. Because how could you do this to him? The only girl he has ever loved. So he needs to hear it from you, clearly. He needs you to drive the final nail on the coffin.

"I do love you," you croak, and you do nothing to stop your tears from flowing freely.

"Darling..."

"But I can't be with you," you turn away, one last time. "Goodbye, Ewan."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Some time ago, during the meeting in New York...

The lush office was laden with expensive wooden furniture, one side with built-in shelves displaying film awards and plaques of varying degrees of prestige. A full glass minibar occupied the other side.

The casting director introduced himself as Bruce, insisting that Ewan call him by his first name and not any of that "sir or similar stick-up-the-ass names". Ewan can see him as a mentor or maybe even a friend, Bruce insisted.

After all, they were going to help each other out a lot...

(to be continued)

Taglist: @sprinklesprinkle888 @namelesslosers @skymoonandstardust @valyrianflower @luckyfirebasement @omgsuperstarg @elissanatok @callsignwidow @sinistersnakey49 @darkwriteracademia @yyrzmomo @queenofshinigamis @luvaerina @shamelessblazecrown @mirandastuckinthe80s @elleinex0x0 @pierrotlu @aegonswife @strangersunghoon @lunampacheco @writer-ann-artist @gaiaea @of-swords-and-words @ateliefloresdaprimavera @m00n5t0n3 @helaenaluvr @peachysunrize @annie-ruk @luvly-writer @ananas26t @athenafaes @lovelyteenagebeard @mamawiggers1980 @moongirl27 @katherine93 @barnes70stark @justbelljust @cloudroomblog @somestufftoday @esposadomd @girl-in-the-chairs-void @insideyourimagination @hotdismylife @vyctorya @wildrangers @livcookesgf @dracaryxzs @aemondwhoresworld @aisselasstuff @onlyrealjoy

Update! Read the second bonus chapter here ~

💌 next chapter

HOW DARE YOU, reader. How dare you.

The gif above paints a clear picture of Ewan's heart breaking in the car 🥲 just in case you guys needed a visual aid 🥲🥲

Next chapter - the meeting in New York, the reader's conversation with Donna, and.... we see them move on from each other (?) You know these bloody actors, one relationship in the first half of the year and then another right after...

Feel free to come for me in the comments <3 it was the most heartfelt chapter, after all. Also, let me know what yous want the bonus chapter to be about!

[muwapsturniolo]

✯𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐦 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬✯

IN WHICH...Y/n is tired of Chris and his negligence towards her, so she decides to pull out her Freakum Dress.

WARNINGS.... mentions of cheating (it doesn't happen) drinking, manhandling, hair pulling, slapping, choking, spanking, pussy slapping, titty slapping, sucking on fingers, stomach bulging, raw sex, rough sex, dom! Chris, overstimulation. cum play, cream pie. I think that's it.

"Stop i'm not ready yet!"

Y/n shouts as her friends pose in her body mirror for pictures. She quickly fixes her hair, removing her lace band and running a wide tooth comb through the curls. She smiles at herself in her vanity mirror before snapping her fingers towards her friends.

"Pass me my dress!"

Layla grabs the dress hanging on the hook and passes it to the robe-clad girl. Y/n gawked at the dress, a Cheshire smile on her face. She drops her robe and begins to slip the see-through material over her body.

The dress, if you could call it that, did little to nothing to cover her up. It was her favorite color (baby pink), and completely see-through. The lace material was sewn into roses and the front was held together by a very thin metal bar.

Her boobs were on display, the only thing covering them were the brown pasties on her nipples.

"Girl he is going to beat your ass!" Layla laughed pulling the dress down a bit to cover the girl's ass. Y/n slaps her hand away and smacks her lips.

"I don't care, he should be acting right!" She exclaims in annoyance as she checks herself out in the mirror.

The whole purpose for her going out tonight was because Chris had been neglecting her, and she was fed up. In her opinion she doesn't ask him for much, really just wanting his love and affection, and she hasn't been receiving that. She knows Chris has to work, but he's been brushing her off, ditching her to hang out with his friends, leaving to film and not coming home until 5 am, they haven't even had sex in two weeks! She was tired of being left in the house alone for too long, so she called up her girls, pulled out her freakum dress, and started getting ready.

"Exactly! Since he wants to act up, you should too! It's been a minute since we all went out anyway, the streets are yelling for us!" her friend Thalia proclaimed as she sipped her twisted tea.

After she slips on her Playboy heels and takes a few pictures with her girls, the group leaves the home, ready to take on the night.

The whole ride Y/n was reading Chris's texts, smirking when she saw him frantically asking where she was going. He ended up calling her and she quickly declined the call, putting their messages on DND and turning the music up in the car.

It's not long before the group arrives at the club. Drinks were immediately purchased thanks to a few guys who found the group attractive, wanting to bag at least one of the girls for the night and rock their world.

One of the boys made it a mission to lay it on thick with Y/n, staying close to her and never her go without a drink. She knew what he wanted, with the way he kept looking her up and down licking his lips, the way his eyes lingered on her chest, how he did a double take when he mistook her skin-colored thong as her being underwear-free, it was obvious what he was looking for.

"You know, your outfit is really nice," he whispers in her ear, both his hands planted firmly on her waist. She giggles and rolls her eyes, pulling back to glance at him.

"Yeah?" She questions as she bats her lashes. He nods and leans down, attempting to catch her lips with his. Y/n ducks the kiss, moving her head to the side.

She finds this whole interaction hilarious.

This guy whose name she doesn't even care to know, is trying so hard to get her attention, attempting to lure her into bed with him. little does he know, Chris is going to be the one to tear this dress off of her tonight.

But little did Y/n know, her friends were posting pictures and videos on their privet stories, and Chris saw all of them.

She was only made aware when she felt herself being pulled back into someone's chest, their breath fanning over her ear.

"I suggest you walk your ass out of here and get the fuck in the car."

She smirks to herself and turns around, throwing her arms over Chris's shoulders. "I don't want to leave, derrick is buying me another drink." She purposely whines. She can tell by the way his eyes narrow that he's fed up with her antics.

One of his hands grips her hair while the other grips her jaw, his face inching closer to hers. Before he can open his mouth to put her in her place, another voice is heard.

"Get your hands off my girl bro!"

Y/n is yanked away from Chris and pulled into 'Derricks' hold, a drink being placed in her hands.

Chris's usual bright blue eyes were already a stormy blue, but seeing this asshole touch his girl has his eyes teetering on the edge of grey. "Your girl?" Chris raises a brow and has an angry scowl on his face.

Y/n leisurely sips her drink, watching the heated interaction as if it were a rerun of her favorite show.

"Yeah, my girl!" Derrick exclaims, his grip tightening on Y/n's waist.

"Do you know that your girl bounces on my dick every night?" Chris deadpans. Derricks tenses and Y/n rolls her eyes.

Chris was never one to be afraid of voicing their sex life. If he could give a TED talk about it, he would.

Chris glowers at 'Derrick', daring him to say something. He takes the hint and drops his hand from Y/n's waist, walking away without a word. Chris's eyes land on Y/n, the two holding such an intense gaze, that she results to looking away.

Chris takes a menacing step forward, grabbing her jaw and forcing her to look at him. "Finish your drink, and then we are going home." He demands, his voice penetrating.

"What if I don't want to go home?"

Chris's face becomes choleric, his eyes finally turning grey. He snatches her forward and throws the drink on the ground, not caring about the glass scattering across the club floor.

Y/n breath hitches, as the hand on her jaw travels to her throat, squeezing the sides tightly.

"Get. The Fuck. In. The Car. NOW!" He doesn't even give her a chance to walk herself, simply grabbing her arm in an iron-like grip and dragging her through the club.

She stumbles as he takes long and fast strides, the two of them making it to the car in record timing.

Despite Chris being angry with her, he still opens the door, smacking her ass harshly in the process of her crawling in. She yelps in shock, turning to give him a dirty look, but she's met with the passenger door slamming in her face.

She grumbles to herself as he climbs in the car, quietly starting the engine and driving off.

The ride was quiet for the most part, the only sounds being the busy streets of California.

They soon make it home, y/n stumbling due to the multiple drinks she had. Chris watches with dark and low eyes as she leans against the wall to take her heels off. Y/n can feel his hungry gaze burning into the back of her head, but she ignores it, choosing to walk into the bedroom.

She makes it into the bedroom, walking towards the closet to grab clothes, but she doesn't make it that far. Chris is quick to grab a fistful of her hair, wrapping his hand in the brunette curls as he pushes her down on the bed.

A mix of a yelp and a gasp exits her throat as his hand comes down hard on her ass, leaving a burning sensation on the jiggling flesh. "You think it's funny to go out of the house looking like this? Huh?" He doesn't give her a chance to answer, slapping her ass once again.

"You think it's funny letting another guy touch all over you like you're his? Letting him buy you drinks?" Another smack is given.

"I think I'm hilarious actu-MMPH!" Chris cuts her off by shoving her face into the comforter.

"Shut the fuck up!" He uses his free hand to hike her waist up, her back arched and face still shoved into the blankets. He goes to yank her underwear down, but stops seeing the damp patch seeping through the skin-colored material.

"You're wet sweetheart-" He takes his ring and index finger, using both digits to rub over the damp material, spreading her wetness around even more. Despite her eyes being closed, she still manages to roll her eyes back, letting out a shakey breath at the feeling of finally being touched.

"-listen to yourself." He demands, his fingers still working her through the underwear. The only thing the two can hear is her wetness moving around, making an erotic sloshing noise. "What are you wet from, hm?"

Y/n manages to lift her head, her body still leaning back into his touch,

"Derrick."

Chris is quick to flip her around, Y/n yelping as his hand slaps the folds between her legs. He loops his fingers through the underwear and tears them off of her, flinging the material somewhere in the room. He roughly shoves two fingers into her seeping hole, immediately thrusting and curling them. Y/n moans at the rough pleasure she's receiving, feeling all the built-up sexual frustration finally being taken care of.

"You're such a fucking whore, telling your boyfriend you're wet from another guy. He didn't even touch you. Are you that desperate and touch starved you get wet from a guy smiling at you?"

She whimpers and arches her back from his degrading words.

"Pathetic"

Chris yanks his finger away and slaps her glistening pussy once more before shoving his wet fingers deep into her mouth. Y/n chokes and gags, her eyes clenching shut and burning as tears form in her eyes. She opens her eyes and stares up at Chris as she manages to suck on his fingers.

He pulls his fingers away from her mouth, trailing them down her chest as she pants heavily. Suddenly, he tears the thin lace material from her body.

"Chris-Shut the fuck up!" He slaps her across the face and smashes his lips against hers. His hands find their way to her breasts, tweaking and twisting at her nipples. She whimpers into the kiss, the stimulation of her nipples going right to her core. She bucks her hips, begging for any type of friction. Chris smirks into the kiss, pulling away and hiding his face in her neck, biting and sucking at the warm and salty skin.

"You want me to fuck you? I thought you wanted Derrick?" He teases, using one of his hands to discreetly pull down his sweats and boxers. Y/n mewls pathetically at his words, "You, I want you! Chris ple-" her jaw drops open and her hands fly to his back, digging her nails into his skin.

Chris grunts feeling her warm and wet gummy walls clamp around him. He doesn't waste a single second in snapping his hips against hers, the sound of skin slapping quickly filling the room. He grunts as he sits up on his knees, pulling her closer by her thighs to go deeper.

Chris pulls his bottom lip in between his teeth, his fingers leaving prints on her plush thighs. He watches as Y/n writhers in pleasure, her body jerking with each thrust. He looks down at where their bodies connect, but he notices something, something that unlocks this primal urge in him.

He allows one of his hands to leave her thigh and pick her head up, forcing her into an upright position. He angles her head down, forcing her to look at the bulge in her stomach.

This is a first for both of them. Chris always fucks her deep, but not deep enough to the point where he can see himself in her stomach

"look at the shit-fuck-" he uses his free hand to press down on the mound, grinning wildly as Y/n sobs at the feeling.

He lets go of her, allowing her head to drop back down on the bed. He throws her legs over his shoulder, leaning forward and basically bending her in half. He wraps both hands around her throat, pistoning his hips at a brutal pace.

Y/n is in heaven, this is all she has been wanting for the past two weeks. Due to his hands being wrapped around her throat, the only noises falling from her mouth were small whistling noises mixed with wheezing. Her eyes roll back and Chris lets out a dry laugh.

He lets go of her throat, watching as she gaps for air, but his thrusting never stops. " That jackass-fuck-he can't fuck you like this could he?" Y/n is too cock drunk and busy trying to breathe properly to answer, causing Chris to slap her breast.

"Answer me mama. You were all talk earlier, run your mouth like you always do."

Just like before, Y/n doesn't answer.

Chris growls and pulls out, flipping her on her hands and knees before shoving himself right back inside of her. Her back arches upward, looking like a cat stretching. Chris shoves her back down onto the bed, grabbing both of her hips and yanking her back into his thrusts.

She hasn't even had one orgasm yet and she's already overstimulated. Not being able to handle it, she reaches back and pathetically attempts to slow him down.

"C-Chris wa-Stop fucking running and take it!" He swats her hand away, shoving her head back into the blankets. Her legs kick wildly, almost as if she's throwing a tantrum. The whole bed is shaking and scratching at the floor from the brute force of his thrusts. he's shocked the mattress hasn't fallen through the wooden bed frame yet.

By this point, Y/n is sobbing from the pleasure and pain. Her once flawlessly done makeup was ruined. Her lipstick is smudged all around her mouth, even on the blankets. Her mascara and eyeliner dripped down her face creating a stream of black salty tears.

"C-close!" she sobs out, her body shaking.

Chris grunts and yanks her back by her hair, her hands shakily holding her up.

"fuck- whose pussy is this?" She moans loudly in response, her fingers gripping the white bedding tightly.

"Tell me whose pussy this is, or you're not cumming."

"Yo-fuck!" She yelps as Chris starts swiping along her clit, drawing figure eights. "Tell me baby, you know I always want you to finish, but if I have to leave you hanging I will." He rasps out. Chris is on the brink himself. He knows this is going to be messy, her juices are already running down her thighs and there's a thick white cream sitting on the base of his dick and abdomen.

"Oh fuck, it's yours-Chris Chris Chri-" Y/n shakes violently as her orgasm rips through her, a loud scream falling out of her mouth as her juices splash onto the bed.

Chris moans loudly and finally lets go, filling her up to the brim. He lets go of her hair, allowing her face to fall forward and back into the bed. Both of them stay in place, panting heavily. Chris slowly pulls out, watching with deranged eyes as his dick falls limp and his seed begins to drip out and onto the comforter underneath them. He bites his lip seeing her hole clench around nothing. He takes two fingers and smears the creamy residue around, nothing but love and possessiveness swarming in his chest.

He turns her onto her back, settling between her legs. He wastes no time and dives in, licking and lapping at her folds like a dehydrated dog. Y/n whines, trying to push his head away from her aching folds. eventually, he does pull away, their mess all over his chin and some of it in his mouth.

He moves to hover over her, forcing her mouth open and quickly spitting their mess into her mouth.

"Next time you decide to wear a fucking dress like that, remember this." He shuts her jaw, Y/n immediately swallowing the creamy liquid and spit.

He picks her up and carries her to the bathroom, getting ready to run the both of them a bath.

As his back is turned to her, a small delirious smile makes its way onto her face,

Thank god for her Freakum Dress.

𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 🍑: @mattslolita @thenickgirl @guccifrog @luverboychris @zayyluvz @mrsmiagreer @chrisssluttywaist @78yaz @hoesformatt @freshloveforthefit @3lizaluvs @mattsturniolosgirlfriend @jetaimevous @luxy-nyx @ts-is-my-spirt-animal @iihrtsturniol0 @idontexistman @katw4shereee @madisturn @starlace111 @zivall @adoreindie @imwetforyourmom @sturnsxplr-25 @sturncakez @theyluvme-2315 @moonk1ss3d @@babyalliah-777 @sturniololol @oliviasturniolo21 @ariithereyet @blahbel668

[cordeliawhohung]

the prowl - single dad! Price x teacher! stripper! Reader (fem) taglist

[4] spice

On Monday, Amelia arrives with a bouquet of flowers. 

Gentle steam wafts from your tea — which you had accidentally overheated in the teachers lounge — biting back the oddly cool summer day as rain taps against the windows. Your hands warm around the ceramic cup, making sure to keep an eye on your students as they roam in the play area before the day begins, sheltered from the unforgiving weather. 

When Amelia walks through the door, she brings an accord of something pale, sweet, and earthy with her. When you look up from your cup, you realize she’s holding roses. There’s a dozen of them in her arms at least. Bright, beautiful red petals in full bloom glisten with fresh rain water as tiny hands wrap around their stems. They’re held together by a fat, gold ribbon tied into a pristine bow.  

It isn’t until her blue eyes peek around the florist’s paper that you’re able to recognize the walking floral mess as John’s daughter. Her giggles cut through the chatter of the other students as she trots around your desk, mary jane shoes tapping on the tile floor. 

“Good morning, Miss Lolly,” she says, the grin evident in her voice, yet you have to peer over the bouquet in order to see it yourself. 

Forgetting your tea, you swivel in your chair to face her fully with an awkward smile. “You look like you got your hands full there,” you note. 

Nodding, Amelia carefully maneuvers the flowers so that they’re laying horizontally in her hands. She holds them out for you as if she’s bestowing some great duty upon you; the duty of accepting a gift that’s surely too luxurious for you. 

“They’re for you!” she announces proudly. 

She all but shoves the flowers into your hands where their redolent aroma washes over your nose. You hold them with care, as if they’ll disintegrate in your hands at any moment. Careful fingers brush over the full heads of the flowers. They’re still cold. Fresh out of refrigeration and perfectly crafted. Speechless, you look back at her just as she starts to slide her backpack off her shoulders. 

“Amelia, that’s so —”

��Hold on! I almost forgot!”

Dinosaur fabric morphs as her hand rummages through zippers and pockets. Eventually, she retrieves a cream colored envelope that has the name Miss Lolly written in sloppy, well meaning handwriting. She presents it with both hands, cheeks flushing a bright pink as she wiggles it around. 

“Is this all for me?” you ask, dumbfounded. 

Again, she nods. “It was daddy’s idea. We wanted to say thank you!” 

Resting the bouquet in your lap, you take the envelope from Amelia and quickly open it. It’s unsealed — excited to be read. It’s a decorative card with bright, 70’s flower themed drawings on the front with the words Thank You! written in fat, bubbly, groovy letters. On the inside, you see where an attempt was made at writing your real title, only to be crossed out and quickly replaced with Dear Miss Lolly in neat print handwriting. 

Dear Miss Lolly,

Amelia and I would like to express our gratitude for your work and care. Each day she comes home and tells me what a wonderful time she has in your class. She says she enjoys your pretty dresses and the silly voices you use during reading time. However, I can’t thank you enough for taking care of my little girl after her tumble on Friday. Please accept this as a token of our appreciation. 

Sincerely,

John and Amelia

John’s signature is strong. Demanding. Dark. It looks out of place next to Amelia’s attempt at cursive — which you haven’t quite gone to that section in English yet — but it makes you smile all the same. As you set both the flowers and the card aside, a hint of something catches your nose. A gentle sillage. It’s warm and spiced, but you quickly push it out of your mind as you give your full attention to Amelia. 

“That’s so sweet of you, thank you so, so much Amelia,” you say softly. 

“Do you like them?” she asks, eyes wide and glistening with joy as she attempts to fight back a grin. 

“I love them.” 

It’s not a lie. You do. They’re beautiful, picked with care; not a single bruise or thorn to be seen, but every time you see them, you think of him. How a blessing and a curse can co-exist in the same object baffles you. Lush red catches your attention as you lecture and play games with your students, and you’re reminded of Amelia’s grin and giggles. At the same time, it makes you think of her father: it makes you think of John. 

He’s all you’ve been able to think about since Friday. The image of him sitting on that couch, legs spread wide and powerful as he sips on whiskey like it’s water burns into your mind. Butterflies harass your stomach as you think of that night, curled against his side, losing yourself to the scent of him as you chatted away, just how he told you to. That night, he tipped you enough to cover most of your rent, and a shameful fire burns your heart every time you think about it. 

John’s too kind, and so… lonely. 

You can’t help but feel as if you had taken advantage of him that night. A hidden identity. A fake name. A different mask. Would he have done all those things had he known who you truly were? Would he feel disgusted if he ever found out? You, his precious daughter’s teacher, rubbing up against strange men in your free time? 

That feeling of discomfort only gets worse at the end of the school day when he comes to pick Amelia up. 

A sleek black coat protects him from the incessant rain that’s plagued the city the entire day, but it does nothing to shield his hair. Ebony locks clump together with the troublesome precipitation, weighing them down along his forehead. It irritates him even as he enters your classroom, thick fingers attempting to get the strands to cooperate. Your pulse pounds erratically in your throat, throbbing and unforgiving, dancing just under your skin where it’s ready to burst. 

Swallowing, you look away from him as you continue to sort through papers and hope that he didn’t see you staring. Maybe if you look busy waiting around for parents to grab their children he’ll leave without talking to you. So you crunch. Eyes hyperfocusing on the work in front of you as if it’ll make everything else around you irrelevant. Grading young primary students' projects is always easy. Highly assisted, simple tasks means you’re putting stickers in the corner along with a kind note scrawled in red ink. 

You always save the dinosaur stickers for Amelia. 

“Miss Lolly?” 

Your eyes flutter shut as cologne wafts towards you, and for a moment you’re somewhere else. Bare skin against leather. Against cloth. Pressed against a chest. Arm wrapped around you. That reality doesn’t exist — shouldn’t exist — and it’s fleeting. The moment you open your eyes, it dissolves and morphs into the man in front of you. John Price, with a smile on his face, and his daughter’s hand in his. 

“I see you got our gift,” he notes, nodding to the flowers on your right. 

Trying to keep your eyes off of him as much as possible, you turn to look at the roses. Beautiful haematic flowers sit proudly in a spare vase you were able to scrounge up from the art teacher. It’s handmade — expertly blown glass that casts a blue shadow on the top of your desk as if the room had been submerged in an oceanic wonderland. 

“Amelia was very ecstatic to deliver them this morning,” you chuckle. Your pen clicks in even, consecutive strikes — like heels on marble flooring. 

“I helped pick them out! Oh, and the card, too,” she quickly announces before sheepishly sticking herself to her father’s side. 

“They’re beautiful,” you reiterate to her before anxiously looking up at John. “And… thank you. They do liven up the room a bit.” 

John waves his hand almost dismissively. “It’s nothing. Only fitting considering you took care of my girl.” 

Your legs press together as he speaks, baritone washing over you just like it did on Friday. It’s not as strong. Weaker. Not nearly as vibrant as it was when you were enveloped by him. Shame and desire fight tooth and nail inside of you, wreaking havoc on your gut, splitting apart offals as they fight for dominance. Despite the battle, you smile through it all — pretty and perfect, just the way Miss Lolly should be. 

“Always happy to help,” you chirp. 

As John and Amelia say their farewells, fauve blue eyes inspect you meticulously. You smile through the scrutiny, wave at little Amelia, and share your excitement to see her tomorrow, but you’re wary of his gaze. Is there recognition? Fraying at the edges of your disguise? Or can he see the way his fingerprints still linger on your skin? Maybe your guilty conscience is just eating you alive.

John doesn’t seem to find whatever he was looking for — if anything at all — and both him and Amelia leave with waves and smiles as they venture out into the pouring rain. Their absence doesn’t do anything to ease the feeling in your gut. It’s trepidation on steroids — a raging alarum that sickens you. You’re nothing but a charlatan; a silly pretender who gets off on thoughts of her student’s father. 

Silence settles over the classroom as the last parent comes to retrieve their child, and just like everyone else you send them off with a smile. That facade breaks the moment the door closes behind them, and you’re left solitary in a colorful room with a bouquet of flowers. 

The thought of throwing them into the bin crosses your mind. You’ve become so obsessed with boundaries that you’re terrified of them blurring. A card becomes flowers, which become friendship, which becomes more. As if it already isn’t there. As if you didn’t spend the evening in his arms just to help make rent for the month. 

Shaking your head, you remind yourself that Miss Lolly has no recollection of Friday night. No, she was at home, doing things an upstanding citizen would do. So, you treat the flowers as such — just flowers. A simple token of appreciation you will adoringly keep on the corner of your desk until they wilt and die, lest little Amelia’s heart shatter. As for the card, you have a corkboard for a reason. Adorned with cute art projects, sweet notes, and other trinkets. You reach for it, fingers bracing as if you expect it to burn, and as it rises from the desk, you freeze. 

Gentle sillage. Warm and spiced. For a moment, you think you’ve gone insane. Smelling things that have long since vanished as if you’re chasing ghosts. Jittery eyes glance around your empty classroom as if someone’s waiting for you to slip up. Some judge and executioner hidden in the corner waiting to make you pay for your transgressions.

Deciding to throw caution to the wind, you raise the card up until it’s just under your nose and you inhale slow and deep. Synapses fry, nerves and neurons sparking until the electricity melts your brain — you were right. It’s him. Molecules of cologne soaked into cardstock so faintly you almost didn’t notice it, but the card smells like him. Your mind spins as you push it away, but the scent is so intoxicating your body longs for it. 

John Price is going to be the death of you and he doesn’t even know it. 

It’s then that you decide that you can’t hang the card with the others. That aroma will haunt you if you do. Instead, you open some forgotten drawer in your desk, full of dust and old pencil shavings, and you lock it in the dark. Sealed tight where the scent has no chance of fighting to escape. Your mind wants to wander. Question if this was done on purpose, or if it was some lingering mistake the card gathered off the pocket of his coat. 

You refuse to entertain it. John has no reason to terrorize a simple school teacher.

Miss Lolly has had a very long Monday, and she plans on going home. Home, and well away from any place where John Price might be lurking in the corner, waiting to haunt her. If you’re lucky, the petrichor soaking the pavement outside will have you forget all about him and that stupid card.

[kiesbrainjuice]

— ITS VOLLEYBALL OR ME ! tobio kageyama

➥ syn : too obsessed with volleyball make you nearly loose your wife!

➥ wc : 3.5k

➥ tw : angst to fluff, heated argument, reader cry a lot, comfort

As I sat alone in our quiet apartment, I couldn't help but reflect on the life I shared with my husband, Tobio Kageyama. We'd been married for three years now, and while I loved him deeply, his obsession with volleyball was starting to take its toll on our relationship.

Tobio had always been passionate about the sport, even back in high school when we first met. I found his dedication admirable then, and it was one of the things that drew me to him. But now, as a professional player, his commitment had reached new heights – often at the expense of our time together.

Our days followed a predictable pattern. Tobio would wake up at dawn, go for a run, then head to practice. He'd return home late in the evening, exhausted but still buzzing with energy as he analyzed his performance or watched recordings of matches. Even during meals, his mind was on the court, discussing strategies or areas he wanted to improve.

At first, I tried to involve myself in his world. I attended his matches, learned the intricacies of the game, and even attempted to play a bit myself. But as time went on, I found myself feeling more and more like a spectator in my own marriage.

The loneliness crept in slowly. Weekends that should have been ours were filled with extra training sessions or team-building exercises. Holidays were planned around his tournament schedule. Even on the rare occasions when we did have time together, Tobio's thoughts were often elsewhere, replaying moments from recent games or strategizing for upcoming ones.

I'd tried talking to him about it, of course. Tobio would always apologize, promise to do better, to make more time for us. And for a while, things would improve. But inevitably, the siren call of the volleyball court would draw him back, leaving me alone once again.

Tonight was supposed to be different. We had plans – actual plans – for a date night. Dinner at the new restaurant downtown, followed by a walk in the park. It wasn't much, but I had been looking forward to it all week. A chance to reconnect, to remember why we fell in love in the first place.

But as the hours ticked by and Tobio didn't show up, I felt the familiar ache of disappointment settling in my chest. I knew, without having to call or text, exactly where he was. The gym. Always the gym.

As I sat there, dressed up with nowhere to go, I couldn't help but wonder: was this what the rest of my life would look like? Always coming second to a sport? Always waiting for a man who was more committed to his team than to his wife?

The anger began to build, a slow simmer that gradually rose to a boil. I'd had enough. It was time to go home and have a serious conversation with my husband – whenever he decided to show up.

I stormed into our apartment, tears streaming down my face. The silence that greeted me only fueled my anger and hurt. I slammed the door behind me, not caring about the noise.

With shaking hands, I unzipped my dress - the one I'd carefully chosen for our date - and let it fall to the floor. I didn't bother hanging it up, instead leaving it in a crumpled heap as I made my way to the bathroom.

The hot water of the shower mingled with my tears. I stood there, letting it wash over me, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging inside. Disappointment, frustration, loneliness - they all swirled together, threatening to overwhelm me.

After what felt like hours, I finally stepped out, wrapping myself in a towel. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for another night alone.

But as I walked into the kitchen, I froze. There was Tobio, still in his practice clothes, sweat glistening on his forehead. He was rummaging through the fridge, completely oblivious to the turmoil he'd caused.

"Oh, you're home," he said, glancing up at me with a casual smile. "Practice ran late. Did you eat yet?"

I stared at him, my jaw clenched. The familiar rage bubbled up inside me, but this time, I pushed it down. Instead, I felt a cold detachment settling over me.

"No," I replied, my voice flat. "I haven't eaten."

Tobio raised an eyebrow at my tone but didn't seem to pick up on the tension. "Great, I'm starving. Want to order in?"

I shrugged, not meeting his eyes. "Whatever you want."

He paused, finally seeming to notice something was off. "Are you okay?"

I didn't answer, simply turning away to head to the bedroom. "I'm tired. Order what you like."

As I walked away, I could feel his confused gaze on my back. But for once, I didn't care about explaining or smoothing things over. Let him wonder. Let him figure it out for himself.

I closed the bedroom door behind me, leaving Tobio alone in the kitchen. The wall of silence between us felt impenetrable, and for the first time, I wasn't sure I wanted to break it down.

I slipped into my pajamas mechanically, my movements slow and deliberate. The soft fabric offered little comfort as I climbed into bed, pulling the sheets up to my chin and turning to face the wall. I could hear Tobio moving around in the kitchen, the familiar sounds of his evening routine doing nothing to soothe the ache in my chest.

Minutes later, I heard his footsteps approaching the bedroom. The door creaked open, and I felt the bed dip as he settled in beside me. His arm snaked around my waist, pulling me close. His breath was warm against my neck as he nuzzled into me.

"Hey," he murmured, his voice soft. "Is everything okay? You seem upset."

For a moment, I said nothing, my body rigid in his embrace. Then, something inside me snapped. I took a deep, shuddering breath and spoke, my voice eerily calm despite the storm raging within.

"No, Tobio. Everything is not okay." I didn't turn to face him, keeping my gaze fixed on the wall. "Do you know where I was tonight?"

I felt him tense behind me. "What do you mean?"

"I was at Ristorante Bella. Sitting at a table for two, all alone." My voice remained steady, but each word was laced with hurt. "I waited for you for two hours, Tobio. Two hours of watching other couples enjoy their meals, of pitying glances from the waitstaff, of making excuses for why my husband wasn't there."

I paused, letting the words sink in. "We had plans tonight. Plans we made a week ago. But once again, volleyball took priority."

Tobio's arm loosened around me. "I... I forgot. Practice ran late, and I-"

"You didn't even text," I interrupted, finally rolling over to face him. In the dim light, I could see the shock and guilt etched across his features. "You didn't call. You just... forgot about me. About us."

I watched as realization dawned on his face. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, reaching out to touch my cheek. "I didn't mean to-"

I pulled away from his touch. "That's the problem, Tobio. You never mean to. But it keeps happening. Over and over again." I sighed, feeling suddenly exhausted. "I can't keep doing this. I can't keep coming second to volleyball."

Tobio sat up, running a hand through his hair. "What are you saying?"

I met his gaze, my voice barely above a whisper. "I'm saying that something needs to change. Because right now, I feel like I'm losing you... and I'm not sure how much longer I can hold on."

The silence that fell between us was heavy with unspoken words and uncertain futures. As I turned away from him once more, I wondered if this would be the wake-up call we needed, or if it was the beginning of the end.

I couldn't stand lying there anymore, the tension thick in the air. I abruptly sat up and swung my legs over the side of the bed, standing up.

"Where are you going?" Tobio asked, his voice tinged with confusion and worry.

"I can't do this here," I said, walking out of the bedroom. I heard him scramble to follow me.

In the living room, I whirled to face him. "Do you have any idea how it feels, Tobio? To constantly be an afterthought in your own marriage?"

His face contorted with guilt. "You're not an afterthought. I just got caught up in practice-"

"It's always practice!" I interrupted, my voice rising. "Or a game, or watching tapes, or team bonding. When was the last time we had a real conversation that didn't revolve around volleyball?"

Tobio ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in his posture. "Volleyball is my career. You knew that when you married me."

"I married a man, not a sport!" I shot back. "I love that you're passionate about volleyball, Tobio. I really do. But sometimes it's just... it's too much."

My voice cracked on the last word, and suddenly the tears I'd been holding back spilled over. "Do you know how many nights I spend alone in this apartment? How many dinners I eat by myself? How many times I've had to make excuses to our friends about why you couldn't make it to their events?"

Tobio took a step towards me, his hand outstretched, but I backed away. "I'm trying to support your dreams, but I feel like I'm disappearing. Like I'm fading away, and you don't even notice."

My next words came out as a choked whisper, "Do you even still love me, Tobio? Or am I just... convenient? Someone to come home to when volleyball is done with you for the day?"

Tobio's eyes widened in shock. "Of course I love you! How can you even ask that?"

"Because I don't feel it!" I cried, the dam finally breaking. "I don't feel loved when you forget our plans. I don't feel loved when you'd rather stay late at practice than spend time with me. I don't feel loved when I'm always, always second to volleyball."

I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly feeling very small. "I'm tired, Tobio. I'm so tired of competing with a sport for my husband's attention. And I don't know how much longer I can do this."

The silence that followed was deafening. We stood there, meters apart but feeling like miles, as the weight of my words hung in the air between us.

Tobio's face contorted, a mix of hurt and anger flashing in his eyes. "You think I don't care about you? Everything I do, all the practice, all the games - it's for us! For our future!"

"Our future?" I scoffed, my voice rising. "What future, Tobio? The one where I'm always alone, always waiting for you to remember I exist?"

He took a step forward, his fists clenched at his sides. "That's not fair! You knew how important volleyball was to me when we got married. You can't just decide now that it's too much!"

"I'm not asking you to quit!" I shouted back, my frustration boiling over. "I'm asking you to remember that you have a wife, that you have a life outside of that gym!"

Tobio ran his hands through his hair, tugging at it in frustration. "You don't understand. This is my dream, my passion-"

"And what about my dreams?" I interjected, my voice cracking. "What about my passion for having a real marriage, a real partnership?"

He threw his hands up in exasperation. "What do you want from me? To give up everything I've worked for?"

"I want you to care!" I screamed, tears streaming down my face. "I want you to show up when we have plans! I want you to text me when you're going to be late! Is that really too much to ask?"

Tobio's jaw clenched. "You're being selfish. You knew what you were getting into-"

"Selfish?" I repeated, incredulous. "Selfish is forgetting your wife exists the moment you step onto that court. Selfish is making me feel like I don't matter in my own marriage!"

We stood there, chests heaving, glaring at each other. The silence was deafening, filled with all the hurt and resentment that had been building for months.

"Maybe..." Tobio started, his voice low and dangerous. "Maybe you just don't understand what it takes to be the best. Maybe you never will."

His words hit me like a physical blow. I stumbled back, feeling as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. "Maybe I don't," I whispered, my anger suddenly deflating into a bone-deep weariness. "And maybe that's the problem."

I turned away, unable to look at him anymore. "I can't do this right now. I need... I need some space."

Without waiting for a response, I grabbed my keys and headed for the door, leaving Tobio standing alone in the middle of our living room.

Days had passed since our explosive argument. I'd retreated to our second apartment, a small place we kept for when either of us needed space. The solitude had given me time to think, to process my emotions, and to consider our future.

I was in the kitchen, absently stirring a pot of pasta, when the doorbell rang. Wiping my hands on a dish towel, I made my way to the door, wondering who it could be.

As I opened it, my breath caught in my throat. There stood Tobio, looking more disheveled than I'd ever seen him. His eyes were red and puffy, clear evidence that he'd been crying. In his hands, he clutched a bouquet of my favorite flowers.

Before I could ask why he wasn't at practice, Tobio spoke, his voice hoarse and barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry."

Those two words, filled with such raw emotion, made my heart clench. I stepped back wordlessly, allowing him to enter.

Tobio shuffled in, his usual confident posture replaced by a slump of defeat. He placed the flowers on the nearby table and turned to face me, his eyes filled with guilt and remorse.

"I've been an idiot," he began, his voice shaky. "These past few days... they've been hell. I couldn't focus on practice, couldn't sleep. All I could think about was how much I've hurt you."

I leaned against the wall, crossing my arms protectively over my chest. "Tobio..."

He held up a hand, asking me to let him continue. "You were right. About everything. I've been so caught up in volleyball that I forgot what's truly important. You. Us."

Tobio took a step closer, his eyes never leaving mine. "I love you. More than volleyball, more than anything. And I'm sorry it took me so long to realize how much I've been neglecting you."

Tears welled up in my eyes as he continued. "I've talked to my coach. I'm cutting back on extra practices. I'm going to be home more, be present more. I want to be the husband you deserve."

He reached out, gently taking my hands in his. "I can't promise I'll be perfect. But I can promise that from now on, you'll always come first. No more forgotten dates, no more nights alone. I want to make this work. I need to make this work."

The sincerity in his voice, the pain in his eyes - it was all too much. I felt my resolve crumbling as tears spilled down my cheeks.

"Oh, Tobio," I whispered, my voice thick with emotion.

He pulled me into his arms, holding me tight against his chest. I could feel his heart racing, matching the rapid beat of my own.

"I love you," he murmured into my hair. "Please, give me another chance. Let me show you how much you mean to me."

I pulled back slightly, looking up into his face. The Tobio I saw there wasn't the volleyball-obsessed athlete, but the man I fell in love with - vulnerable, caring, and completely devoted.

"Okay," I said softly, a small smile tugging at my lips. "We'll try again. Together."

Tobio's face lit up with relief and joy. He leaned down, pressing his forehead against mine. "Together," he agreed.

As we stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, I felt hope blooming in my chest. We had a long way to go, but this was a start. A new beginning for us both.

Tobio held me close, his strong arms enveloping me in a comforting embrace. I could feel his chest rise and fall with each deep breath, as if he was trying to memorize this moment.

"I've missed you so much," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. His hands gently stroked my back, soothing away the tension I'd been carrying for days.

I burrowed deeper into his chest, inhaling his familiar scent. "I missed you too," I whispered back, my fingers clutching at his shirt.

We stood like that for a long while, just holding each other, reconnecting without words. Eventually, the timer in the kitchen beeped, reminding me of the dinner I'd been preparing.

"I should check on the pasta," I said, reluctantly starting to pull away.

But Tobio's arms tightened around me. "Let me help," he said, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. "I want to do this together."

Hand in hand, we walked to the kitchen. As I stirred the pasta, Tobio stood behind me, his arms wrapped around my waist, his chin resting on my shoulder. It was as if he couldn't bear to lose physical contact with me, even for a moment.

We moved around the small kitchen, working in tandem to finish preparing the meal. Tobio insisted on helping with every task, from chopping vegetables for the salad to setting the table. All the while, he kept finding excuses to touch me - a gentle hand on my lower back as he reached for plates, fingers brushing mine as he passed me utensils, a quick kiss on my cheek as I plated the food.

As we sat down to eat, Tobio pulled his chair closer to mine, our knees touching under the table. He reached out, taking my hand in his, his thumb gently caressing my knuckles.

"Thank you," he said softly, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity that took my breath away.

"For what?" I asked, squeezing his hand.

"For giving me another chance. For being patient with me. For loving me, even when I didn't deserve it." His voice was low, filled with sincerity.

I felt tears prick at my eyes again, but this time they were tears of happiness. "We're in this together, remember?" I reminded him with a small smile.

Tobio nodded, bringing my hand to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss to my palm. "Together," he agreed.

Throughout dinner, Tobio kept finding ways to maintain physical contact - his foot hooked around my ankle, his hand resting on my knee, our shoulders brushing as we ate. It was as if he was trying to make up for all the lost time, all the moments of disconnection.

After we finished eating, Tobio insisted on doing the dishes, pulling me along with him to the sink. We washed and dried in comfortable silence, stealing glances and soft smiles.

As we finished up, Tobio pulled me into another embrace, nuzzling his face into my neck. "Can we just stay like this for a while?" he murmured against my skin.

I nodded, wrapping my arms around him tightly. "As long as you want," I whispered back.

We stood there in the kitchen, holding each other close, the gentle ticking of the clock the only sound in the apartment.

© kiesbrainjuice all rights reserved. please do not plagiarize, repost, or translate !

tag : @haechansbbg