#reading fics is the best thing in the world

[babeyun]

falling alone ✩ l.hs [teaser two]

✩ series m.list | taglist form ✩ synopsis: cold cases were heeseung’s specialty, and he cracked every single one. cold hearts were your specialty, and you have yet to make a single chip in your husband’s. ✩ genre: established relationship au | hurt-comfort ✩ pairing: lieutenant!lhs x housewife!reader ✩ word count: 1.4k | [full fic: tbd] ✩ rating: 18+. minors dni. ✩ warnings: a little more pining between husband!hee & wife!reader, a bit of outsider help. nothing explicit ✩ author's note: hello everyone! i just wanted to let you all know that i am trying my best to get this fic out before the end of the year (and if i don't, i do go on winter break from uni in early december! so we can expect a few fics in that time.) this being said, i will add a taglist link here as well as the series masterlist because i cannot for the life of me keep up with urls at the moment. the people tagged below have already been added to said taglist, but if you wanna jump on and don't see yourself tagged, please fill out the form linked above! thanks!

Heeseung knows that Dr. Bahng told him to leave work at work. However, Dr. Bahng said nothing about bringing home to work. He said nothing about thinking about you at work, or missing you, or daydreaming about you instead of analyzing the reports that a pair of rookies messed up. He also said nothing about reading articles by some sketchy romance columnist on how to keep your relationship alive, which is exactly what Heeseung was scrolling through right now. 

There are things in a relationship that must always be shared in order to avoid, or resolve conflict. How the other person is making you feel, how you are making them feel, and how to tackle both negative checklists properly. It is key to always remember that it must be you and your partner against the problem, not you and your partner against each other.

You make Heeseung feel…alive. You make him feel loved, cherished, and even at some bizarre times, worshiped. You make him appreciate waking up at the ass crack of dawn, your sleeping face relaxed as he peppers kisses across your warm skin – something he's thankful never manages to wake you up, but it adds to all the adoration he holds in his heart for you.

How does he make you feel? Dejected, neglected, rejected. Pushed aside for the true love of his life – work. You never bring it up unless he asks. You never brought it up until last July, when he was slumped in his office chair after drinking half a bottle of sherry whiskey, listening to music and thinking about yet another dead end that deterred him from finding Soyoung. You had approached him with a gentle gaze, a soft touch to his shoulder and asking about taking a shower together. You never questioned him, you never pressured him, you never tried to make him something you assumed he just wasn't – an attentive, doting husband.

And he remembers how he asked you, too. He remembers spinning around in his chair, asking you if he was everything you'd ever wanted. Asking you if he was living up to your expectations, as a husband, as a life partner, as a friend, even.

And he remembers the way you sighed carefully before perching on his desk. "You're everything I've ever wanted, and I'm sure you'll continue to grow and be even more deserving of the love I hold for you." You had smiled, your hand coming to rest on his cheek. "Nothing we can't work through, you know? If I was given a choice in another life, another world – I'd still choose you."

He will never forget it, and he can still feel the warmth of your lips against his as you led him to the bathroom. He can still feel the ache of your love on his skin from the way you held him under the running water, quietly basking in his presence as the mint of your shampoo filled his nose. Nothing is as special to him as you are. 

There are things that should routinely be shared in order to maintain a homeostasis of the calendar. Asking how their day was, if you have any ideas for dinner tonight, or if you'd like to do something this weekend to celebrate the mundane. It shouldn't be difficult to establish a routine with your partner, if you are in tune with them. A kiss goodbye in the morning, a warm embrace in the evenings. A shared meal, a shared bath, a shared bed. 

Heeseung can't remember the last time he fully checked in with you – you always have something to do. You always attempt new creative projects, and his fingers toy with the fabric of his slacks as he remembers that you hand stitched them. He thinks about how you waited for him all night yesterday, and the disappointment you must have felt when he arrived late. He thinks about how he just doesn't make time to tackle the problem that you two are constantly glossing over by being intimate – he knows you don't feel loved. 

He didn't ask you about your day yesterday, or the day before, or last week. He didn't ask you if you were sewing anything new, learning any new pieces on the piano collecting dust in the living room. He hasn't asked about your mother, but at least he knows you don't like to talk about her. 

Heeseung hasn't asked you a single thing about yourself, or your life, and he doesn't know how long it's been. Even last night, your eyes were focused entirely on him – the way his lips twitched when you said you liked the wine he chose, the way he pulled your leg over his in the booth you were sharing. You asked him about work, and he just shook his head as he pointed out the new menu items. 

You love him so selflessly.

Something that works for my partner and I is parallel play. We aren't necessarily doing something together, but we are present in the same room and doing our own thing. Knowing that he is there, and that if I need him, I can reach for him, adds a comfort to our relationship. Aside from this, we also come together every two weeks and address any issues we may be experiencing – both in our relationship and our individual lives. We resolve the issues about us together, and advise the other on our personal issues. Balance!

You do this a lot. If Heeseung is home, you'll wander to wherever he is and sit down where you can, and quietly go about your business. Sometimes it's a new cross-stitch, sometimes it's just putting a headphone in and listening to music. Sometimes you're giving yourself a pedicure, sometimes you're just sitting there staring at his corkboard of paraphernalia while matching your breathing to his. It was subtle, something you thought he'd never notice.

He sighs, exiting out of the tab before grabbing his coat off the back of his chair. Tugging it on, he uses one hand to log out of his computer when he hears three knocks on the door. A lightness of the rapping knuckles similar to yours…and your smiling face appears as you crack open the door. "Surprise?" He hates that he can't bite back his smile, a few of his fellow officers wide-eyed at his expression. He nods silently, and you extend your hand for him when you hear his coworkers whispering about you. With a dejected look, you tuck your hand back into the pocket of your jeans, "Guess we don't want them gossiping, right?" "Right." He mumbles, his own hand twitching around the doorknob as he pulls it shut behind him. He wants to reach for you, embrace the warmth you bring, show you off to the people he often calls his friends. Sunghoon catches his eye, a quizzical look on his face before shaking his head. 

Heeseung reaches for you, but you've already made your way towards the door. Your smile has lessened as you open the door, holding it for him. "How was work?" You ask as he joins you in the cool air, and he wastes no time wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you in close, his nose buried in your hair. You hesitate to wrap your arms around him, instead leaning back to try and meet his eyes. "Hee?" "Don't ask me about work." He mutters, before pressing his lips to yours softly. You let out a noise of surprise, but you can't melt into his touch before he pulls away. "I hate talking about work, let's talk about you. Over lunch." He takes your hand in his, gently pulling you to his side as he makes his way to the car. He doesn't see yours in the parking lot, so he only assumes you got a rideshare before you clear your throat. "Are you okay?" The words are slightly jumbled as he leads you to the passenger side, opening the door for you, helping you step in. "Hm? Why do you ask?"

"Well…you're actually out of the office. And you want to go to lunch…and you don't want to talk about work?" Your voice is meek, and it makes his chest ache as he reaches to buckle your seatbelt in for you. "I just want to spend time with you. Shall we?" His smile is a little forced, until he sees the soft gloss of embarrassment over your eyes. "Okay."

BABEYUN © 2024. no translations, reposting or modifications are allowed. do not claim as your own. viewer discretion is advised. your media consumption is your responsibility.

TAGLIST [those in red could not be tagged] @thesassy-mia @starfallia @ramenoil @hoonieversies @wintabite @shnnzsworld @eneiyri @jjongsha @ilovejungwonandhaechan @oopshee @capri-cuntz @petalsofink @teddybeartaetae @chocminteu @moon0fthenight @delvziion @heeseungthel0ml @bbyjw @marimariiiiiiii @thenastone

[steddiebang2024]

STEVE AND EDDIE MAKE A PORNO  |  Explicit  |  55k

Author: @hitlikehammers

Artist: @hagnoart

Beta Reader: @dontwasteyourchances

[Link to fic]  |  [Link to art]

Pairings: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, (background Robin Buckley/Chrissy Cunningham, Nancy Wheeler/Barbara Holland, Jonathan Byers/Argyle; porn film scene pairings indicated in the relevant chapters)

Characters: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley, Nancy Wheeler, Chrissy Cunningham, Jonathan Byers, Barbara Holland, Argyle

Tags: Friends to Lovers, Nay: oblivious!BEST friends to lovers, Romcom, Porn, Y’know because shooting a porno is the orienting plot device, Humor, General Shenanigans, Coffee-related Innuendos Abound, Platonic Stobin, Happy Ending (not THAT kind), (…okay also a lot of that kind because again: THEY ARE SHOOTING A PORNO)

Trigger Warnings: This fic is inspired by a film where the filming of a porno is a central plot device; sex positivity, orientation positivity, sex-and-pairings-for-aesthetic-appeal-NOT-for-endgame-purposes are the name of the game.

↳ Keep reading below for a summary!

Unlikely but inseparable best-friends-since-middle-school Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson move in together after graduation and, honestly? Lead a semi-stable if generally-uneventful life (or not-entirely uneventful, fine, because Eddie takes personal offense to that characterization of anything involving himself): but they make a decent living as minimum wage grunts and they never starve, which of course counts as a win in late-stage capitalism. So what if it’s always been paycheck to paycheck and they’ve only just made it outside their hometown: they still do earn their paychecks, Eddie’s booking more weekend shows to pad his kinda-pitiful record store wages, the cafe Steve works at is expanding and a promotion to senior manager isn’t wholly out of the question, and they did make it out of their back-assward hometown, no matter how far they got. Most of all, through better or worse, bound thicker than blood: they’ve got each other. It’s not the life Steve was raised to expect, but it’s not one he’s trade for anything in the world. 

Which is still true when, due to a very unfortunate lack of communication—with good intentions! It honestly was all above-board and stupidly well-intentioned—they may have entirely unwittingly paved their way into bills-so-overdue-the-utilities-are-canceled. Like: bye-bye-water-mid-shower-canceled. 

Which: fucking late-stage capitalism. Ruining everything. 

And it is ruined: it’s the holidays, which means there are extra hours but they’re being vied for Hunger Games style, and the lack-of-heating thing’s going to be a real problem with the Midwest winter that’s creeping up quick. Basically: ‘up shit creek without a paddle’ is an understatement. 

But then, opportunity presents itself in the most time-honored of professions when they run into the shocker (or: not-really-a-shocker, dude was hella repressed) partner of a straight-laced douchebag classmate at their ten-year-reunion: an adult film star who reveals $100k could be within their grasps—bills paid, debt cleared, money to spare for the first time in forever—if the form of...well.

Shooting their own porno. 

So umm...fucking late stage capitalism? 

And honestly it’s a solid plan, despite being absolute insanity (though that’s honestly unsurprising because, again: nothing’s uneventful when Eddie Munson’s your best friend), but the question that rears its head ultimately isn’t one of revenue, but one they probably should have thought through a little harder from the get-go: when budget’s tight, cast is limited, and promotional value is crucial—alongside everyone banging everyone? 

You’re also probably gonna have to fuck your best friend on camera for cash in the process.

(Goddamn previously unrealized and unacknowledged feelings late stage capitalism, man. Fucks up everything.)

[muiitoloko]

Hi! I adore your fic. Can you write about Antoine Richis/fem.reader ( nc17,21) ? Please😍🥰😘

Title: A Secret Beneath

Summary: In the shadows of a grand estate, a maid and her master, Antoine Richis, hide their forbidden love, navigating a web of passion, jealousy, and the impossibility of their desires.

Pairing: Antoine Richis × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Smut, Possessiveness, obsession, jealousy.

Author's Notes: Honestly, when I got the request for Antoine, I was totally stumped on what to write. So, I just went with the flow and hoped for the best! 😅 I’ll admit, it’s not my finest masterpiece, but I was satisfied enough to hit that ‘post’ button. Hope you enjoy it anyway!

Also read on Ao3

For months, you had been living a secret life in Antoine Richis' grand estate. To everyone else, you were simply a maid—dutiful, obedient, and invisible in the grand scheme of things. But behind closed doors, when the world was shrouded in darkness and silence, you were something else entirely. You were Antoine's secret, his forbidden indulgence, the woman who had unwittingly breached the walls of his carefully controlled world.

Your relationship with Antoine had started almost innocently—an unspoken tension, stolen glances, a lingering touch that lasted a heartbeat too long. It wasn't long before that tension boiled over into something physical, something neither of you could resist. Antoine was a man of power, of composure, but when it came to you, he was something else—hungry, desperate, and possessive in ways that left you breathless.

It was a dangerous game, one that both thrilled and terrified you. Antoine was not just any man; he was wealthy, influential, and bound by the rigid expectations of his status. He could never acknowledge what you had in the light of day. To the world, you were beneath his notice—a maid, a woman of no consequence. But in the privacy of his study, his chambers, or wherever else he decided to take you, you were everything he desired.

Tonight was no different. You had been summoned to his study under the guise of bringing him his nightly brandy. The heavy oak door had barely closed behind you before Antoine had you pressed against the wall, his lips crashing down on yours with a force that took your breath away. It was a kiss filled with urgency, with the desperation of a man who had denied himself for far too long.

He had stripped you of your dress with practiced ease, his hands rough and impatient as they roamed over your bare skin. There was no tenderness in his touch tonight, only raw, unfiltered need. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous, filled with the hunger that always lurked just beneath his carefully controlled exterior. “You drive me to madness.”

You whimpered under his touch, your body responding instinctively to the roughness of his hands, the heat of his breath against your skin. Antoine was not gentle, not tonight. He was a man on the edge, and you were the only thing that could pull him back. He spun you around, pressing your chest against the cold surface of his desk, his hands gripping your hips with a force that left bruises.

“You’re mine,” he hissed in your ear, his voice laced with a possessiveness that made your heart race. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” you whispered, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and desire. It was a truth you had come to accept, even as you knew that what you had could never last. Antoine would never truly be yours, not in the way you wanted. But in these stolen moments, in the darkness where no one could see, you could pretend that he was.

Antoine’s hands tightened on your hips as he drove into you, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. He was relentless, taking you with a ferocity that left you gasping for breath, your knuckles white as you gripped the edge of the desk to keep yourself steady. He knew exactly how to break you, how to push you to the brink and pull you back just before you fell.

But no matter how much pleasure he gave you, Antoine never allowed himself the same release. He would pull out at the last moment, his hand covering your mouth to muffle your cries as you came undone beneath him. He would finish himself off with quick, efficient strokes, his eyes never leaving yours as he spilled his seed onto the floor or a nearby cloth. It was his way of maintaining control, of keeping you at a distance, even in the most intimate of moments.

He would never risk coming inside you. You had asked him once, in a moment of vulnerability, why he always pulled away. His answer had been cold, calculated, a reminder of the world that separated you. “I can’t afford to take any chances,” he had said, his voice devoid of the warmth you had come to crave. “You’re a secret, nothing more. I won’t risk ruining everything for a few moments of pleasure.”

His words had stung, but you had accepted them because, deep down, you knew they were true. Antoine liked you, perhaps even cared for you in his own way, but he would never admit it. He could never afford to. You were his dirty little secret, the woman he took solace in when the pressures of his world became too much to bear. But once the sun rose, once the world woke up, you would go back to being just a maid, and Antoine would go back to being the man of composure and control, the man who could never acknowledge what you had.

And yet, despite the pain, despite the knowledge that this could never be more than what it was, you couldn’t bring yourself to walk away. Because in those moments, in the darkness of his study, you were his. And that was enough.

As the months passed, your relationship with Antoine continued in secret. The danger of being discovered only heightened the thrill, the forbidden nature of your trysts adding fuel to the fire that burned between you. Antoine’s cold exterior would melt away as soon as the door closed behind you, and he would become the man who craved you, who needed you in ways that neither of you could fully understand.

But as much as you tried to deny it, you knew that you were falling for him. Every touch, every stolen kiss, every whispered word in the dark made you long for more, for something that could never be. You knew it was foolish, that you were setting yourself up for heartbreak, but you couldn’t help it. Antoine was like a drug, and you were hopelessly addicted.

Antoine, for his part, seemed to struggle with his own feelings. He would pull you close one moment, his touch tender and almost loving, only to push you away the next, reminding you both that this was temporary, that you could never be more than what you were. He would never admit that he cared for you, but in those quiet moments, when the world outside ceased to exist, you could see it in his eyes—a flicker of something deeper, something he tried desperately to keep buried.

One night, as you lay tangled in his sheets, the remnants of your passion still lingering in the air, you found the courage to ask him a question that had been gnawing at you for months.

“Antoine,” you began softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you traced lazy patterns on his chest. “What are we doing?”

Antoine stiffened slightly at your words, his gaze turning cold as he looked down at you. “What do you mean?” he asked, his voice guarded, as if he already knew where this conversation was headed.

You hesitated, unsure if you really wanted to hear the answer, but you pressed on anyway. “I mean… this. Us. We’ve been doing this for months now, but… what are we to each other? Am I just a convenience to you?”

For a moment, Antoine said nothing, his gaze fixed on the ceiling as he considered your words. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, devoid of the warmth you had come to crave. “You know what this is, what it has to be. I can’t offer you anything more than what we have now. You’re a maid, and I’m a man of status. This… whatever it is between us… it can never be more than what it is.”

His words cut through you like a knife, the harsh reality of your situation crashing down around you. You had known, deep down, that this was always going to be the answer, but hearing it from his lips still hurt more than you could have imagined.

“I see,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you tried to keep your emotions in check. “So that’s all I am to you? A secret, a… a distraction?”

Antoine turned his head to look at you, his expression softening ever so slightly as he reached out to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tear that had escaped down your face. “You’re more than that,” he admitted quietly, his voice barely audible in the darkness. “But it doesn’t change anything. I can’t give you more, no matter how much I might want to.”

You closed your eyes, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a physical force. You knew he was right, that there was no future for you here, but that didn’t make it any easier to accept. For months, you had been living in a fantasy, pretending that what you had was enough, but now the reality of your situation was impossible to ignore.

And yet, despite the pain, you knew that you couldn’t walk away. Antoine had become a part of you, a piece of your soul that you couldn’t simply discard. You would take whatever he was willing to give you, even if it wasn’t enough, because losing him completely was a thought too unbearable to consider.

“I understand,” you whispered, your voice filled with a sadness that you couldn’t hide. “I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give, Antoine. Even if it’s just for a little while longer.”

Antoine’s grip on your cheek tightened slightly, his gaze searching yours as if trying to find the truth in your words. After a moment, he leaned down to press a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, a kiss that spoke of regret, of longing, of all the things he would never allow himself to say.

And as you lay there in his arms, the world outside forgotten, you couldn’t help but wonder how long you could keep living this lie, how long you could keep pretending that what you had was enough. Because deep down, you knew that one day, this secret life you had built with Antoine would come crashing down around you. And when that day came, you weren’t sure if you would survive the fall.

That night, you found yourself once again in Antoine Richis' study, the familiar tension hanging heavy in the air as the door clicked shut behind you. The soft glow of candlelight cast long shadows across the room, the flickering flames reflecting in Antoine’s hazel eyes as he turned to face you, his expression a mix of desire and restraint.

Without a word, he closed the distance between you, his hand tangling in your hair as he pulled you close, his lips crashing down on yours with an urgency that left you breathless. His kiss was rough, possessive, as if he was trying to claim every part of you in that single moment. You responded eagerly, your hands clutching at his coat, desperate to feel him, to lose yourself in the forbidden pleasure he offered.

Antoine wasted no time, his hands working with practiced ease to strip you of your clothes, his breath coming in short, heavy bursts as he took in the sight of your bare skin.

“Monsieur… please…” you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation.

“Please?” Antoine repeated, a dark chuckle rumbling in his chest as he tightened his grip on your hair, his other hand moving to undo his trousers with practiced ease. “You want this, don’t you? You want me to take you right here, while my daughter sleeps just down the hall? You’re a filthy little thing, aren’t you?”

You nodded, unable to find the words to respond as the need in your core grew unbearable. Antoine wasted no time, spinning you around so that your chest pressed against the cold, hard surface of his desk. The roughness of the wood against your sensitive skin only heightened your arousal, making you gasp as he nudged your legs apart with his knee.

The sound of his trousers hitting the floor was followed by the unmistakable sensation of his hardness pressing against your entrance. You bit your lip, trying to stifle the moan that threatened to escape as he pushed inside you, filling you completely in one powerful thrust.

“God, you’re so tight,” Antoine groaned, his voice rough with lust as he began to move, his hips slamming against yours with a force that sent shockwaves of pleasure through your entire body. His hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he took you with a ferocity that bordered on desperation.

You struggled to keep quiet, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as each thrust drove you closer to the edge. But it was impossible to stay silent when he felt so good inside you, his cock hitting all the right spots with a precision that left you trembling with need.

Antoine sensed your struggle, and with a growl, he reached up to grab your hair, pulling your head back sharply as he leaned down to hiss in your ear. “Be quiet,” he commanded, his voice low and dangerous. “I don’t want Laure to hear you. Do you understand?”

You nodded frantically, biting down on your lip to stifle the moans that threatened to spill out. “I’m sorry, monsieur,” you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll be quiet, I promise…”

But Antoine’s movements were relentless, his thrusts growing harder, faster, each one sending waves of pleasure crashing over you until you were trembling on the brink of release. His balls slapped against your clit with every thrust, the sensation almost too much to bear, and despite your best efforts, a soft whimper escaped your lips.

“Didn’t I tell you to be quiet?” Antoine snarled, his grip on your hair tightening as he slammed into you even harder, the force of his thrusts driving you into the desk. “You’re a dirty little whore, aren’t you? You can’t even keep your mouth shut when I’m fucking you."

Tears of frustration and pleasure welled up in your eyes as you fought to control the sounds threatening to escape, your body shaking with the effort. But it was no use—Antoine felt too good, his cock driving into you with a precision that left you gasping for breath, every nerve in your body on fire.

“I… I can’t…” you whimpered, your voice trembling as you clung to the edge of the desk, your knuckles white with the effort of staying quiet. “Monsieur… please… I’m going to…”

Before you could finish your sentence, Antoine’s hand moved from your hair to cover your mouth, muffling the cry that erupted from your throat as your orgasm tore through you, your body convulsing around him. The force of your release sent you spiraling into oblivion, your vision going white as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you.

Antoine’s breath hitched, a low growl escaping his lips as he felt you tighten around him, the sensation pushing him dangerously close to the edge. But he wasn’t ready to let go just yet—he wanted to savor this, to draw it out for as long as possible.

He slowed his pace, his movements becoming more deliberate, more controlled, as he rode out the aftershocks of your orgasm. You could feel him pulsing inside you, his cock twitching with the effort of holding back, and you knew he was close—so close.

“Please…” you whispered, your voice muffled by his hand as you turned your head to look at him, your eyes filled with a mixture of desperation and need. “Don’t stop… I want to feel you come inside me…”

Antoine’s eyes darkened at your words, a low, dangerous growl rumbling in his chest as he pulled out of you abruptly, his hand still covering your mouth as he spun you around to face him. “You think I’d risk getting you pregnant?” he hissed, his voice low and rough as he held you in place, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. “You’re nothing more than a dirty little maid… a secret… and I can’t afford to have a bastard running around, ruining everything I’ve worked for.”

You stared up at him, your heart pounding in your chest as his words sent a shiver down your spine. “But… I want you…” you whispered, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and longing. “I want all of you, monsieur… even if it’s just for tonight…"

Antoine’s expression softened slightly, a flicker of something—perhaps regret, perhaps something deeper—crossing his features before it was quickly replaced by the cold, calculating mask he always wore. “Maybe one day,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. “But not tonight. Not until I know it’s safe.”

With that, he released you, stepping back to fasten his trousers, his movements quick and efficient as he regained his composure. You stood there, trembling and exposed, your heart aching with a longing you knew could never be fully satisfied.

Antoine glanced at you one last time, his eyes lingering on your flushed, tear-streaked face before he turned and walked toward the door. “Clean yourself up,” he ordered, his voice cold and detached once more. “And remember—this never happened. You’re a maid, nothing more. Do you understand?”

You nodded, your throat too tight to speak as you watched him leave, the door closing behind him with a soft click. The silence that followed was deafening, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a leaden cloak. You knew he was right—there could never be anything more between you. You were a woman of no title, no status, and he was Antoine Richis, a powerful merchant with everything to lose.

But even as you wiped away the tears, even as you gathered your dress and tried to compose yourself, you couldn’t shake the feeling that, for just a moment, you had glimpsed something deeper in him—something that went beyond his cold, controlled exterior. And you couldn’t help but wonder if, one day, he might let that part of himself be known.

Days had passed since your last encounter with Antoine, and life in the Richis household resumed its usual rhythm. You kept to your duties, tending to the daily chores, always aware of Antoine's presence but careful never to overstep the boundaries that had been so painfully drawn between you. The memory of that night still lingered in your mind, the intensity of his touch, the harsh reality of his words. But there was no time for reflection as you had other responsibilities to attend to, including your role in looking after Laure, Antoine’s beloved daughter.

Today, you had accompanied Laure to the local market, a task that was both a pleasure and a burden. Laure, young and full of life, enjoyed these outings, chatting animatedly as you navigated the bustling market stalls. You couldn’t help but smile at her excitement, but there was an undercurrent of tension in you—an awareness of the secrets you harbored, of the forbidden relationship that lay beneath your calm exterior.

As you returned to the Richis estate, Laure wasted no time in running ahead to find her father, eager to share the details of her day. You, meanwhile, carried the groceries inside, your thoughts preoccupied with the need to maintain the facade that had become your life.

Antoine was in the living room, seated on the plush sofa, his sharp eyes skimming the newspaper in his hands. The room was quiet, the soft crackle of the fire in the hearth the only sound. When Laure burst in, her cheeks flushed with excitement, Antoine looked up, a rare smile touching his lips as he set the newspaper aside.

“Papa!” Laure called out, her voice bright and cheerful as she hurried to his side. She sat next to him, her youthful energy filling the room. “Nous avons eu une journée tellement amusante! Il y avait tellement de choses à voir au marché aujourd'hui.”

Antoine chuckled softly, his gaze warm as he listened to his daughter with the attention he always gave her. “Tell me, Laure,” he said in his deep baritone voice, his hand resting affectionately on her arm. “What did you see today that has you so excited?”

Laure’s eyes sparkled as she began to recount their trip to the market. “Oh, Papa, there were so many beautiful things! The flowers were in full bloom, and there was a man playing the violin—his music was so enchanting! But the most exciting part was when the baker’s son came over to us.”

Antoine’s expression remained calm, though his eyes narrowed slightly as he listened, sensing that there was more to the story.

“Laure,” he prompted, his voice gentle but with an edge of curiosity, “what about the baker’s son?”

Laure giggled, leaning closer to her father as if sharing a secret. “He brought flowers, Papa. A whole bouquet of roses! But they weren’t for me—they were for her,” she said, glancing towards the kitchen where you were putting away the groceries.

Antoine’s smile faltered, his expression darkening slightly. “For her?” he repeated, his tone carefully controlled, though a storm began to brew behind his hazel eyes.

“Yes, Papa,” Laure continued, oblivious to the shift in his mood. “He gave them to her with such a charming smile, and you should have seen how she blushed! It was so sweet. He’s been courting her, I think. The other maids at the market were whispering about it too.”

Antoine’s hand tightened around the arm of the sofa, his knuckles whitening as he struggled to maintain his composure. “I see,” he said quietly, his voice now tinged with something darker, something possessive. He forced a smile for Laure’s sake, but his thoughts were already racing, the image of you accepting another man’s attention, another man’s gifts, igniting a fire in his chest.

Laure, completely unaware of the tension building in her father, continued to chatter on, describing the baker’s son with all the enthusiasm of a young woman romanticizing a potential suitor. “He’s quite handsome, Papa, and so polite! Everyone says he’s one of the most eligible young men in the village. Don’t you think it’s wonderful that she might have someone like him?”

Antoine’s jaw clenched, his mind whirling with jealousy and a growing sense of possessiveness. The idea of you with another man, of someone else touching you, courting you, was intolerable. The thought alone was enough to make his blood boil, yet he kept his face carefully neutral as he responded.

“Laure,” he said, his voice carefully measured, “it’s good that you had such an enjoyable day. But sometimes, young men can be… frivolous with their attentions. The world can be a dangerous place, and not every suitor has the best intentions.”

Laure frowned, puzzled by her father’s sudden shift in tone. “But Papa, he seemed so sincere…”

Antoine cut her off gently, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “I’m sure he did, ma chérie. But let’s not rush into any conclusions, especially when it comes to matters of the heart. It’s important to be cautious.”

Laure, sensing the firmness in her father’s voice, nodded, though a hint of disappointment lingered in her eyes. “Yes, Papa. You’re right, of course.”

Antoine offered her a tight-lipped smile, his mind already working on how to deal with this unexpected development. He couldn’t afford to let someone else come between you, to let another man encroach on what he had claimed as his own. His gaze drifted toward the kitchen door, where you were still busy with the groceries, completely unaware of the conversation happening just beyond your hearing.

“Why don’t you go and rest for a while, Laure?” Antoine suggested, his voice returning to its usual warmth. “You’ve had a long day, and you deserve some time to relax.”

Laure nodded, smiling up at her father before leaning in to kiss his cheek. “Thank you, Papa. I think I will.”

As Laure left the room, Antoine remained seated, his thoughts dark and tumultuous. The fire crackled in the hearth, the soft glow of the flames doing little to warm the coldness that had settled in his chest. He knew he had to confront this, had to ensure that you understood your place and the boundaries that came with it.

Rising from the sofa, Antoine made his way to the kitchen, his steps deliberate, his expression unreadable. He found you there, arranging the groceries with the same meticulous care you applied to all your tasks, blissfully unaware of the storm that was about to break.

“Chérie,” Antoine’s voice cut through the silence, causing you to startle slightly as you turned to face him. The intensity in his gaze made your heart skip a beat, your hands freezing mid-motion as you met his eyes.

“Monsieur,” you responded, your voice polite, though the tension in the air was palpable. You could sense that something was wrong, that the easygoing mood from earlier had shifted into something far more serious.

Antoine stepped closer, his presence overwhelming in the small space of the kitchen. “I hear you had an interesting day at the market,” he said quietly, his tone deceptively calm as he took another step toward you.

You swallowed, your mind racing as you tried to decipher his mood. “Yes, Monsieur, it was a pleasant outing with Mademoiselle Laure. The market was lively.”

Antoine’s eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze never leaving yours. “And what about the baker’s son? I hear he was quite… attentive to you.”

You felt a flush creep up your neck, a mixture of embarrassment and apprehension at the mention of the young man. “He… he gave me flowers, Monsieur. It was just a gesture of kindness. Nothing more.”

Antoine’s jaw tightened, the faintest hint of a sneer pulling at his lips. “Kindness,” he repeated, his voice dripping with disdain. “And did you enjoy this kindness? Did you blush for him the way Laure said you did?”

You felt the weight of his gaze, the possessiveness that radiated from him like a tangible force. “It was nothing, Monsieur,” you said softly, trying to keep your voice steady. “I didn’t ask for the flowers. He just… offered them.”

Antoine reached out, his hand cupping your chin with a firm but gentle grip, forcing you to look up at him. “You are mine,” he said, his voice low and dangerous, the words laced with a dark promise. “No one else has the right to court you, to give you flowers, to make you blush. Do you understand?”

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest as his words sent a shiver down your spine. “Yes, Monsieur,” you whispered, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and desire. “I understand.”

Antoine’s gaze softened ever so slightly, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip as he leaned in closer. “Good,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. “Because if anyone ever tries to take you from me, if anyone dares to think they can have what belongs to me, they will regret it. I won’t let anyone else have you.”

His words were both a warning and a vow, the possessiveness in his tone making it clear that he would do whatever it took to keep you under his control. And as you stood there, caught between fear and longing, you realized that there was no escaping Antoine Richis—no matter how dangerous your connection with him became.

In the days following your confrontation with Antoine, a heavy tension settled over the estate. You continued to go about your duties as a maid, but the words he had spoken to you in the kitchen lingered in your mind, like a dark cloud that refused to dissipate. His possessiveness had taken you by surprise, leaving you to grapple with the contradictory nature of his feelings toward you. Antoine had always been a man of control, his emotions carefully contained, his desires tightly reined in. And yet, when it came to you, those reins seemed to slip, revealing a side of him that you were only beginning to understand.

You found yourself in a constant state of confusion, torn between the man who had dismissed you as nothing more than a maid and the one who now claimed you as his own, with a possessiveness that bordered on obsession. How could he say that you were nothing to him one moment, only to turn around and act as if he could never let you go the next? It made no sense, and the more you tried to make sense of it, the more elusive the answers became.

One evening, as you prepared to retire to your small chamber in the servants' quarters, you were summoned once again to Antoine’s study. The request was not unusual; it had become routine for him to call for you late at night, under the guise of needing some trivial task done, when in reality, it was simply an excuse to have you near him. But tonight, as you stood before his door, a sense of dread coiled in your stomach, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on you.

You knocked softly, waiting for his voice to grant you entry. When the command came, you pushed the heavy oak door open and stepped inside, your gaze immediately falling on Antoine, who was seated behind his desk, his eyes shadowed by the dim light of the candles that flickered around the room. He looked up as you entered, his expression unreadable, and gestured for you to approach.

“Close the door,” he ordered, his voice calm but carrying an edge that made your heart skip a beat.

You did as he instructed, the soft click of the door echoing in the silence of the room. The tension in the air was palpable as you walked slowly toward him, your steps tentative, as if you were approaching a lion in his den. Antoine’s gaze never left you, his hazel eyes piercing through the shadows, searching for something in your expression that he had yet to find.

When you reached his desk, he motioned for you to sit in the chair opposite him. You hesitated for a moment, but his eyes were unyielding, and you knew better than to disobey. You lowered yourself into the chair, your hands clasped tightly in your lap as you waited for him to speak.

Antoine leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled beneath his chin as he regarded you with an intensity that made you feel as though he could see right through you, laying bare all the secrets you had tried to keep hidden.

“Tell me,” he began, his voice deceptively soft, “why did you accept those flowers from the baker’s son?”

The question caught you off guard, and you blinked, unsure of how to respond. “I… I didn’t think much of it, Monsieur. It was just a small gesture of kindness. I didn’t want to be rude by refusing.”

Antoine’s eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward slightly, his gaze growing colder. “Kindness? Is that what you seek, then? Kindness from a simple baker’s son? Do you find that more appealing than what I offer you?”

Your breath hitched at the sudden sharpness in his tone, and you shook your head quickly, trying to quell the rising panic in your chest. “No, Monsieur, of course not. It was nothing. I never sought anything from him. I didn’t encourage him, I swear.”

Antoine’s expression remained impassive, but there was a flicker of something darker in his eyes—something dangerous. “And yet, you accepted his gift. You allowed him to think that he could have you. Is that what you want? A simple life with a man who can offer you nothing but bread and flowers?”

You flinched at the harshness of his words, the contempt that dripped from his voice. “No, Monsieur,” you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of your emotions. “I don’t want him… I don’t want anything from him. But I do have desires, like any woman. Desires for a family, a husband to care for, children to raise…”

Your words trailed off as you saw the anger flash in Antoine’s eyes, the tension in his jaw as he clenched his teeth. He stood abruptly, pushing his chair back with a force that made it scrape against the floor, the sound jarring in the quiet of the room. He paced around the desk, coming to a stop in front of you, his presence overwhelming as he loomed over you.

“And you think that baker’s son could give you that?” he hissed, his voice low and dangerous. “You think he could give you a life worth living? A life that I couldn’t provide?”

You looked up at him, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to make sense of the storm of emotions that raged within him. “I… I never said that, Monsieur,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. “I never compared you to him. How could I? You’re a man of status, of power… he’s just a baker’s son.”

“But you did compare us,” Antoine shot back, his eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and hurt. “You think I don’t know what you’re really saying? You’re telling me that you want a simple life, a life that I can’t give you because I’m not the kind of man who can offer you that. You think you would be happier with him, don’t you?”

“No!” you cried, shaking your head vehemently, tears stinging your eyes as you reached out to him, desperate to make him understand. “No, Monsieur, you’re wrong! I never meant that! I don’t want him—I don’t even know him. I’ve only ever wanted you, even if I know it’s foolish.”

Antoine’s gaze softened ever so slightly at your words, the fury in his eyes dimming as he saw the sincerity in your expression, the desperation in your voice. He reached out, his hand trembling slightly as he cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tear that had slipped down your face.

“Then why?” he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. “Why would you talk about desires for a family, for children? Why would you bring that up, knowing full well that I could never give you those things?"

You closed your eyes, the weight of his hand on your cheek grounding you as you tried to find the words to explain the turmoil in your heart. “Because it’s true,” you admitted softly, your voice trembling. “I do have those desires… desires that I know you can’t fulfill. But that doesn’t mean I want anyone else. I don’t want to leave you, Monsieur, but I’m afraid of living a life where I’m always hidden away, always in the shadows. I want more than just stolen moments in the dark. But I know it’s impossible, and that’s what tears me apart.”

Antoine’s expression was one of deep contemplation as he listened to your confession, his hand never leaving your cheek. His anger had subsided, replaced by a sadness that you had never seen in him before—a sadness that spoke of a man who was trapped by his own circumstances, unable to give you what you longed for, no matter how much he might want to.

“I’m a selfish man,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve taken you for myself, knowing full well that I could never give you the life you deserve. I’ve made you my secret, my indulgence, and I’ve kept you in the shadows because that’s where I believed you belonged. But hearing you speak of desires that I can’t fulfill… it makes me realize how much I’ve taken from you.”

You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze, your heart breaking at the sorrow you saw there. “You haven’t taken anything from me, Monsieur,” you whispered, your hand covering his as it rested on your cheek. “You’ve given me something I never thought I could have—your attention, your desire. Even if it’s not enough, it’s more than I ever imagined. But I’m afraid of losing myself in this, of becoming nothing more than a secret, a shadow.”

Antoine closed his eyes, his breath hitching as he fought to control the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. “I can’t lose you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “But I can’t give you what you want either. I’m bound by my status, by the expectations of the world I live in. I can’t risk everything for a few moments of happiness.”

You felt a pang of sadness in your chest as his words confirmed what you had always known deep down—that there could never be a future for you with Antoine, not in the way you desired. But even as you accepted this painful truth, you couldn’t bring yourself to walk away from him, to sever the bond that had formed between you.

“I don’t want to lose you either,” you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of your emotions. “But I don’t know how long I can live like this, always yearning for something more, something that I know I can never have.”

Antoine’s grip on your cheek tightened ever so slightly, as if he was afraid that you would slip away from him, disappear into the night like a dream that could never be recaptured. He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a tender, almost desperate kiss, as if he was trying to convey all the things he could never say.

When he pulled back, his eyes were filled with a deep, abiding sorrow, the weight of his own choices pressing down on him like a leaden shroud. “I wish things could be different,” he murmured, his voice thick with regret. “But they can’t be. You deserve more than I can give you… but I’m too selfish to let you go."

You closed your eyes, tears slipping down your cheeks as you clung to him, the warmth of his body the only thing keeping the darkness at bay. “Then don’t let me go,” you whispered, your voice filled with a quiet desperation. “Keep me close, even if it’s just for a little while longer. I’ll take whatever you can give me, even if it’s not enough.”

Antoine’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you close as he buried his face in your hair, his breath warm against your skin. “I’m not worthy of you,” he murmured, his voice trembling with the weight of his emotions. “But I’ll be damned if I let anyone else have you. You’re mine, and I won’t let anyone take you from me.”

You clung to him, your heart aching with the knowledge that you were both trapped in a web of your own making, bound by desires that could never be fully satisfied. But even as you accepted this painful truth, you knew that you couldn’t let go of him, not yet. The bond between you was too strong, too powerful to be severed so easily.

And so, you remained in his arms, the two of you locked in a silent embrace, each of you grappling with the impossible choices that lay before you. The world outside continued to turn, indifferent to the struggles of two souls caught in a dance of desire and regret.

But for now, in the quiet of Antoine’s study, with the flickering candlelight casting long shadows on the walls, you were his, and he was yours, if only for a little while longer. And in that fleeting moment, you allowed yourself to believe that it was enough.

Translation:

Monsieur - Sir

Nous avons eu une journée tellement amusante! Il y avait tellement de choses à voir au marché aujourd'hui. - We had such a fun day! There were so many things to see at the market today.

Papa - Daddy

Mademoiselle - Miss

Ma chérie - My darling

[jillsandwhichs]

RE Character x Reader Smutshot Collection , Chap 7 , Gentle Mornings

Masterlist

Pairing: F!Reader x Chris Redfield (RE6)

Summary: Chris wakes you up and surprises you with breakfast in bed. And if that wasn't enough, he fucks you against the kitchen counter : D

Status of your guy's relationship in this one shot: Dating

WC: 2.6k

Type: NSFW

Warnings: Kissing, Dirty talk, Clit rubbing, You cum on his fingers, Kitchen sex, Unprotected PiV, Spanking, Hair pulling, He finishes inside of you

A/n: Hi! Hope you all enjoy. Please check out my masterlist, there's a lot of stuff there. You can get to know me, you can see the rules of my blog and then you can see all of my fanfictions. You'll be able to find the previous chapters to this fic and upcoming ones. You'll also be able to find my Wattpad & AO3. Comments, reblogs & likes are appreciated. Thank you

"Wake up beautiful."

You could hear the deep voice faintly, you knew it was Chris. You are so tired though, more sleep'll do you good. You could lay in this comfy bed forever and be content, but alas.

"Sweetheart, get up." Chris said softly.

You could feel his gentle big hand caressing your upper arm-it made you feel all warm inside. Chris is very physically affectionate, which you love. Being touched is something you also enjoy, more-so than being the toucher. Chris is like a bear-he's large and cuddly. "Baby, I'd love for you to open your eyes." At this point, you were being stubborn and you could tell just by his tone that he knew. "Don't make me make you." He teased, patting your butt.

Ultimately, you opened your eyes.

"Hi." You chuckled, sitting up and adjusting to the light in the bedroom. The curtains were spread apart, the light was on and the TV was on too-all so glimmery. "Hey princess, good morning." Chris laughed, stroking a few pieces of loose hair from out of your face. "Did you sleep good?" "I did. I slept very good actually." "Good." Chris smirked, leaning in and kissing your cheek gently. He is in such a good mood, it's odd. Of course, he always tries to be positive but this is just weird, especially considering it's... You checked the clock. Nine in the morning...

Analyzing the room, you noticed a tray of food set on the white dresser the two of you share. You were curious as to what it was.

"What's that baby?" "Oh, the food? Well baby," He stood up and grabbed the tray carefully, scared it may tip over just by one wrong move. "I made you breakfast." Chris said kindly, sitting on the edge of the bed once again. Did he really? How sweet of him. The only other time he's ever done this was on Christmas a few months back. "Sweetie, really?" You spoke in awe-he is truly the best. "Thank you. Why though?" You tittered, picking up the fork-you were ready to dig in. "Just thought you deserved it." He whispered, caressing your lower leg.

The plate had all sorts of goodies on it. Toast, eggs, fruit and sausage, it looked amazing. You were still somewhat confused as to why Chris suddenly decided to do this for you but either way, the gesture is out of this world.

You are excited to eat. Funnily enough, you are starving first thing when you wake up since you don't eat before bed, it's as if he read your mind. "Just eat up honey, I'll be out in the living room, okay?" "Alright." You gave him a quick nod as you took a bite of the steaming, smokey meat. Chris grinned, he was glad you were happy. "Good, love you." Chris pressed a kiss to your small nose before exiting your guy's shared bedroom. "I love you as well." You shouted, making sure he could hear you good.

You'd eat then go see him, that's the plan. You began to eat as fast as you could, you now just wanted to spend your morning with him before he has to leave for work at ten.

-

The breakfast he made you was immaculate. Chris is an amazing cook, definitely better than you are. You finished it rather quickly too, surprisingly. All that was left on your plate was a couple scrambled eggs but other than that, it was totally clean.

You hopped up out of bed with a grunt & a yawn-you were still pretty tired. Plate in hand, you walked out of the bedroom.

Down the hall, you could see Chris. He was just sitting on the couch, checking out one of his stupid man magazines that he gets weekly. He noticed you were done and whistled, seeing you walk out in just your shirt and panties. "Hey hot stuff." He teased, tossing the magazine down and getting up off of the couch. "Hi." You smiled from afar, setting your plate down in the empty sink-he even did the dishes!

Ambling towards you, you couldn't help but let out a soft sigh as he wrapped his arms around you from behind. His face tucked itself into the crook of your neck. He placed soft, warm kisses all along it. "Mmm, I love you." What has him in this type of mood today? "I love you so much but Chris, why are you being like this?" You chortled, setting your hands on top of his, his were resting on your lower tummy. "Because I love you, is that an issue? Can I not love my girlfriend?" Such an ass.

"Babe, don't be dense," You snorted, "Trust me, I love this, you just usually aren't this lovey dovey, that's all." "Well I'm feeling it today." His kisses moved to the back of your ear. You can't deny it, it's turning you on deep down.

As he kissed all over your face from behind, you felt his large hands begin to trail downwards. The shirt you are wearing is oversized and long, but you knew he'd continue. Once his finger tips were just above the waistband of your panties, he stopped and whispered, "Can I?" Um, of course he can.

"Mhm." You mumbled. Your hands were holding onto his wrists, you didn't know where else to place them. With a groan, you felt his hand slide down the outside of your panties. His thick fingers were right above your covered clit. You were wet and you knew he could tell. "So soaked for me, hmm?" He whispered in your kiss, planting more kisses onto it. "Mhm." You giggled, your breath shuttered as he pressed down onto your nub. "I wanna fuck you so hard right now." He growled.

You two literally fucked last night, he is such a teenage boy. "Did you not get it out of your system last night?" "Oh I did, but you build it back up so easily." Chris chuckled. He began to slowly rub your clit through your panties. His fingers are magical. "Oh." You seethed. Your head tossed back as he caressed your clit quickly. "Feels good?" "Yeah..." You whimpered. It was hard to keep your eyes off of his hand. It was fascinating-how he would please you.

"You gonna cum for me baby?" That condescending tone he gets when he knows he is ruining you. "Shut up." You huffed out, earning a snicker out of him. "You know I'm just messing with you."

Chris rubbed it even faster. Your legs were shaking already. Your clit felt like it was going to explode. That inevitable firey feeling in your stomach was evident, it was burning-a burning passion for Chris. The breakfast in bed, the dishes being done and his loveyness? Yeah. It was no surprise he was also going to wind up fucking you.

A few more caresses-and it was your undoing. You loudly moaned, your legs shaking and your back arching automatically. Chris hummed, kissing the back of your head a couple times as you came just by him stroking you. "That's my girl." He commended you, enjoying how fast you finished for him.

Suddenly, you squealed as he bent you over the kitchen counter. You've never fucked in a kitchen before, this is new. "What're you doing?" You questioned him. The sound of his fly being pulled down was heard. "Fucking you, what does it look like?" Chris chuckled, bringing his hand to your ass and squeezing it. You giggled and simply rested your head against the cold, polished counter.

You bit your lip seductively. It's so early in the morning, how could he possibly be in the mood already? You aren't complaining though. You could feel him pulling your panties down your legs til he left them at your ankles-a hard slap then came to your ass. You could hear him pulling his sweatpants down as well, he was wasting absolutely no time. "I'll be gentle, at least at first." Chris teased. You giggled. He knows how to make you laugh.

Chris's hand went to your ass, gripping onto it for support. Chris has a love for your ass, he's always been more of a butt guy. "Mmm." You heard him moan out from behind you. You knew he wasn't going to waste any more time-foreplay was non-existent.

You could hear his hand pumping his cock. He gets turned on so easily. You remember the time you simply walked out in a messy ponytail and a pajama set and not even a minute later, he was deep inside of you. You two fucked very early on into your relationship-its not surprise it happens so often in your relationship.

"You sure I can?" "Yes baby." You chuckled, spread your legs slightly more, wanting him inside of you already. You could hear him whisper something beneath his breath. It sounded like he said "Fuck." But it was hard to tell. Chris is absolutely enthralled by you. He's obsessed with you, just as you are with him. You felt his tip tease your entrance-instantly arousing you furthermore. "Oh." You winced. You were fighting the urge to push yourself into him.

With his hand on your ass, the other around his dick, you moaned softly as he entered you. Your body accepted him with grace. The way you wrapped around him directly after said so much. You were made for him-that is how you feel at least. "My God," Chris hummed, both hands squeezing your rear. "You're so damn tight." Those words are like music to your ears. You didn't really know how to respond. Dirty talk has never necessarily been your forte. "You feel good." You whispered whilst nestling your head against your arms.

Feeling him felt like heaven. He's not too long nor too big, he's just right. You've missed this-despite it only being a literal day since you two made love.

Chris began to pull out of you. He was slow with it. He dragged it out so long. "Chris." You whined. Feeling every single inch slip out of you was tortuous. You just wanted him to rail you-hard. All you got in response was a snicker. He's such a prick sometimes. A sexy one though.

Once his tip was practically out of you, he slammed back into you. Your entire body was shoved into the counter, causing you to wince. Both of his hands held onto your waist firmly. Each thrust was exuberant. You loved how he used you. His pleasure meant everything to you. You can't get enough of the idea of him being fulfilled. He deserves it. His hands caressed your midriff with each movement.

All you could do was relax and let him use your pretty little pussy as he pleases.

Your head was resting against your cold arms-the counter being even cooler. Each time he pounded into you, your hood thrusted against the counter. While it wasn't the most pleasant feeling, the feeling of him being buried inside of you countered it out. He's so good at this. He's always been practically a God at fucking you. He makes you cum way to easily.

"Baby." You moaned, your eyes closing and mouth becoming permanently agape. You felt a wack come to your ass as his speed increased, along with the power of his movements. He is already leaking inside of you. You could feel his member twitching, just begging for that lovely release. Making love like this, oh it'll never get old. "Just keep taking it, princess." He muttered. His fingers were slowly yet surely making their way up your back, trailing ever so slowly.

"I can't..." He stammered. "I cannot get over how good you feel, God, you're soaked." He huffed out. You began to push yourself against him, therefore he wouldn't be the only one working. You heard him grunt & moan. It felt good to know you could please him just as he does with you.

For a moment, you could tell he quit his movements. Now, it was all you. You pushed your ass up against his man hood, moving and twisting in all sorts of ways, just attempting to bring him closer to his peak. You wanted to make him feel all sorts of ways. "You are so sexy." You heard him mumble. His deep, scratchy voice has always been so attractive. "Say more." You moaned. You wish you could be staring at him in this very moment. You wanted to see his face as you made him moan & grunt and overall made him feel perfect.

"I love you."

"I needed this."

"You're so pretty, baby."

Gosh.

Everything he said just made you feel euphoric.

As you felt his hand nuzzle itself into your hair, you whimpered. With a tug and a thrust, he was suddenly fucking you like literally never before. He was holding your hair tightly. Your head being forced backwards, all you could do was let it happen. It felt so good. He was moving so fast now, so hard too. "Good girl." Chris whispered. You could tell just admiring you. Taking the sight of you in. You were his drink and he was dehydrated. He needed this just as much as you did.

You could feel how deep he was inside of you.

Each pump, you felt like he was bruising your insides. His girth brushed against your clenched walls. The movements brought you closer and closer with stroke. You needed to release. It was becoming way too much.

"I'm gonna cum." You panted out. You could feel it-your orgasm stirring up inside of you. "Cum for me baby." Chris grunted. His free hand came down and squeezed your ass before smacking it-that was what finished you off.

Arching your back even more than before, you whimpered quietly as you came all around it. Your fluids coated the entire base of his dick. "Fuck." Chris chuckled, caressing your rear. "Such a dirty girl." The way he spoke, so intense & sexy. "I'm gonna cum too." Chris moaned.

He let go of your hair, allowing you some freedom. You held yourself up now, both arms resting on the counter to uplift you. His head went to the crook of your neck. You could feel his breath on your throat-it was hot and he was close. "Gonna cum so deep inside of you." "Oh." You moaned, tossing your head back slightly, feeling him plunge into you at a non-human rate.

He did not lie.

Shortly after, you felt his semen shoot inside of you. Right as he came, he simply stilled inside of you. It felt so interactive, so pleasurable. "Mmm, dear Lord." He snickered. He kissed your neck a few times, breathing in your intoxicating, feminine scent. "That feel good?" "So good." You giggled.

Chris pulled out of you and immediately grasped you, holding you up. It's like he knew. Your legs were weak & wobbly. You felt like a balloon. "I gotcha sweetheart." He laughed, kissing you gently. The kiss was so sweet. He takes care of you, even after such rough and intimate moments. "We should shower." "Good thinking." Chris whispered.

Your boyfriend picked you up into his arms and off you two were to the restroom.

Hopefully while he's at work, he won't be able to get his mind off of you and it'll be just like this when he arrives home...

[ladykettlechips]

Update Time~

Good evening from the land of kettle chips, crumpets and scones! This update comes to you guys as a way of apologising for my absence in writing lately. Life is a little more hectic right now and, while I have a right to choose to keep you guys out of the loop and update my fics as and when I please, I have stated before that I like transparency. Though I don't reveal everything, I do want you guys to be somewhat aware of why I'm not updating and where I'm at currently in life. First and foremost, I have healed considerably from the work trauma I experienced. Though I am not fully healed from it, I am doing a lot better mentally these days. It has helped me a lot to stay away from work for a little bit and while I definitely worried about money every now and again, I can confidently say that leaving that place was the best thing for me. Secondly, I have a new job. I have been training for said job recently while also working part-time at another job. Do I think this will be a permanent fixture in my life? Not at all, but for the moment it is ideal in regard to earning money to keep me going in life (and fuelling my addiction to perfume, sweets and travel).

Thirdly: Travel. I have some trips coming up, all planned prior to me leaving the Trauma Job. In the past few weeks I have been focusing on sorting those out, hence why you aren't seeing anything from me writing wise lately. It's been a big focus of mine, especially as one of the two trips I'm taking is very soon.

Fourth: I finished editing a book for someone! I won't be displaying the title or author here because of privacy reasons, but this is something I could have only ever dreamed of, but helping others see their stories grow under my editing is something I have desired to do since leaving University. I truly love editing so much. Thankfully, the person I edited for wants me to help with their future books, as well as help to re-edit their previous books (the beauty of self-publishing!). It was hard work, and life kept me from editing for a while, but I'm so happy to see that the author was happy with me as an editor and that they want to work with me again. Hopefully this spurs me on to look into freelancing down the line.

So yes, this is mostly why I've been quiet in writing. I'm doing bits and pieces here and there, but nothing that will finish a chapter or oneshot. I am sorry for not updating anything on AO3 to a point where some of you might think I've left the fandom, but I haven't. I'm just focusing on things that are happening in my own world right now and prioritising myself for a bit.

Finally, before I sign this off, I sincerely hope that you are all happy and well and taking care of yourselves. Though I am less present, I am aware that there's been some frustrations going on within the fandom right now, but please remember to be courteous of one another and to remember that this is simply a fandom, not real life. Please don't get too upset by rumours, and please don't allow it to affect how you function in real life. It's all well and good to love something so much, but when fandom leaks into real life and affects those who aren't within the fandom or the actors portraying our favourite characters, it becomes unhealthy.

Thank you for reading, precious bean hive. I love you all. LKC

[lokigodofsex]

Stede calling Ed sweetheart in Hell or High Water makes me fiavzndbajcbsgshs

I genuinely worry for my well-being if he would call him that in the series. I think my head would spontaneously combust

[clegfly]

“Of course you have an Other Brother,” he says, waving off her denial as he opens some nearby cabinets. “Who else would I be if I wasn’t?”

Small WIP sketch of the Other Brother from IDKSomethingClever99’s fic “Mari in the Pink Palace”!!! OMORI and Coraline are my two biggest interests ever so this fic was like winning the lottery for me. Not to mention how good it is… please go read it ragh

[greenerteacups]

hi GT!

Lionheart had me the moment you kicked it off with “it’s a nice day to start again.” Might i ask why you chose that particular line?

And, if you havent already answered to this emoji:

❄️

P.s: you have my eternal gratitude for creating the most brilliant piece of writing i’ll ever read. I shout about it from the rooftops, share it on my socials, requested my spouse to read it so we may discuss it together (in lieu of a present for my 30th birthday), et cetera.

I see from your URL you are a fellow lad of taste.

There's a couple things going on in the epigraph for Book 1. On one level, it's a lyric from the first muggle song I picture Draco listening to on his walkman at the end of the book, so there's a cute full-circle thing there. The second layer is the theme of change and redemption, which, in Lionheart, doesn't so much come from major moments or self-sacrifice, but from the slow, grueling, everyday work of living, and living better. It's a nice day to start again because every day is. You always have the opportunity to start making better choices, no matter what lies behind you. That's the thesis of any Draco redemption arc, right? You have to imagine that he could have chosen to be better.

And then thirdly, there's the audacity of doing a full Hogwarts canon rewrite, a good 30 years after the original books came out, millions upon millions of words of fanfic later, and basically asking everyone to read the same story they did the first time around, only different. So it's a kind of winking entreaty. It's saying to readers, many of whom are understandably wary of doing it over, zeroing out the characters to starting positions, and starting from the beginning with 11-year-olds all over again. It's going: "hey. That was fun, right? Why not do it again?"

[isekyaaa]

I'm reading a fanfiction currently about a girl that was isekai'd into AoaB with knowledge of everything that's going to happen in the future. It's a very good series of fics, but it's almost painful to get through. Though Myne has so many things going against her, somehow the main character in the fic, Mila, has it worse. Everything she works for she struggles to achieve. Nobody gives her any chances. Nobody is looking out for her. She can escape death and more and nobody will care. It's honestly depressing.

Reading it, I can't help but put myself in Mila's shoes and think how I'd feel if I got isekai'd into a world with knowledge of the future, and despite this, everyone, all the characters I love, treating me like a nuisance and a liability than someone of worth. But at the same time it makes sense. Even if Mila is the main character of the fic, the real main character is Rozemyne. That's who the world circles around. But still, as someone that rooting for Mila reading this, I just want happier things to happen to her.

[necrotic-nephilim]

What do you think about the fab five polycule

(Dick x donna x wally x garth x roy)

i'll be SO honest i wish i had like. insightful interesting opinions on them but i've always been a Young Justice kid and sort of. breezed past consuming Fab Five Teen Titans content-

but of what i *do* know, from the few comics i've read with these characters is this is one of the best ships for Dick, honestly. it always deeply annoys me when fanon content breezes past the Titans as if they're just some distant teammates and not some of Dick's closest friends, if not a second family. *especially* the Fab Five. for most, if not all of them, it's the first time getting to actually connect with other teen heroes. so there's something fun about how sort of terrible they are at it, at first. they all care about each other a lot. but they're kind of chucked into the deep figuring out how to work with each other and get along with *very* different personalities, so it's fun to see where the conflict comes.

as a ship, i do really love it. the Titans are a family. like we call a lot of teams found families, but for the Fab Five, that shit is the truest. they depend on each other and trust each other. when Dick and Bruce are on outs and Bruce fires him, he goes to the Titans.

i also enjoy how, to an extent, all of them are outsiders of some kind. Donna is alone in a new world she's never experienced, the same as Garth. Roy is still new and awkward to living the rich life with Oliver. Wally doesn't connect to his parents well. and of course, Dick has lost his parents and only has Bruce, who isn't the most emotionally available. of course they're going to cling to each other, as the first people they can really develop connections too. they're very clingy with each other and i think that's both cute and *fun* to explore like, codependency issues with them. how protective they can be of each other, how they default to trusting each other over their mentors, etc. it's all very interesting for a polycule, especially since for most of them, it's their first real relationship. i'm a big fan of "none of us know what dating looks like bc we've had such strange childhoods so we don't understand the Rules very well. we're all just going to date each other bc why would i date only one of you. do teamups count as dates now." vibes with teenage polycules. and the Fab Five just. have that on lock. they each fulfill a different "niche" in the group. Garth is the softer, more emotional one you can go to if you're upset. Donna is the one for planning bright fun trips and making sure you don't wallow. Roy is protective and can pretend to be suave, but he shows affection through gift giving and grand gestures where words fail him. Wally can cheer any of them up with jokes and distractions. and of course Dick is the logical one who makes sure they all keep their heads on and don't drown in the responsibility.

overall i think it's a really cute ship and i do wish i just. knew more about them to be able to write them/read fic of it because i do love their dynamic. and i'm just a firm believer in the Titans being Dick's family, just as important to him as the Batfam. they're a disaster and for that you gotta love them.

[rudeflower]

Writing a novel when you're used to writing fic is weird because sometimes I'll write an absolute banger of a line or a scene and be like woooohoooooo they're going to love that one!!!!

But I'm used to fic where typically within a week or less the banger line or scene will be posted and typically eventually thousands of people will read it

But with this novel the banger will MAYBE be seen by one or two people and most likely eventually no one

[orcelito]

Wild that anytime I post an update a lot of people read it and are even excited about it and have their own thoughts and reactions to it that I'll never know.

Comments are only the very tip of the iceberg with it. And I am Very grateful to commenters for letting me in on it. But in the same way that I'll be excited with my friends when a fic we love updates, it's likely that Other people enthuse with Their friends when my fic updates. And it's just so strange. An experience I'll never have access to.

Everyone's relationship with my fic is unique. So many different people with so many different circumstances and preferences... and the number of people that have told me that my fic is one of their favorites, some even saying it's their Favorite favorite... every single one of them have their own relationship with my writing.

It's just interesting to me. I think and think and think on my writing. I have my plans for basically the entire fic, the way I want it to end already thought out, all the major plot beats and the relationship progressions, All of that thought out. I love my writing so very much, but I'm on the inside looking out. This is my mechanical horse, and I'm in here laying out the groundwork and pulling levers and constructing limbs, puttering away making the horse move. Forever and always, my relationship with it will be more intimate than anyone's, and yet more clinical. Because I know it better than the back of my own hand, but I'll never have the experience of reading it fresh. Of reading it without knowing everything that's going to happen from now to the end and beyond. I won't have the thrill of the plot twists I have planned, the delight at seeing things progress, the horror at seeing things go wrong...

This is my mechanical horse, and I'm making it move.

I just always wonder what it must be like to see it from the outside. I hope to others that it's a pretty horse.

[thebest-medicine]

Listen. I have always been a dino kid at heart. I fucking love dinosaurs.

> so I was listening to a dino podcast and they interviewed the author of some dinosaur shapeshifter series.

> I’m like. This sounds ridiculous but I need to see if it’s on my library app.

> got the audiobook which is read by Kirt Graves who does a bunch of excellent MM romance audiobook readings

> just listened to the entire first book of the 5 book series and I honestly fucking loved it. It was like listening to a fanfiction trope romance novel but also with dinosaur animorphs.

> fucking in love with the main two characters.. went onto ao3 and there’s only 1 fic for the entire series / fandom

> I’m about to make it my problem to make more works for this because jesussususjs is the switch / teasing energy strong with these boys

> the series is called RELIC by Maz Maddox and the first book is called Smash & Grab

> for more good dinosaur related recommendations hit me up 😝

[autistic-katara]

reading fanfic was way more fun when i had no standards for stuff being in-character or well-written

[aroaessidhe]

2023 reads // twitter thread

Zombabe

paranormal YA set in a small town in 2003 where weird things happen that mostly get ignored

a boy is resurrected by his best friend after dying just before graduation. but he’s maybe a zombie now and if he ignores his hunger for flesh an ancient evil might start causing bigger problems

thankfully one of his friends’ aunt is a cop who has no problem helping get rid of some of the local nazis

queer teen friend group, m/m

[zincbotted]

one of many problems i encounter trying to find undertale fanfiction is that, in my mind, talkingsoup's 'the scientist' series is 100% canon, so anything that contradicts that just don't feel right