#so thank you nonny and happy new year!

[thetarttfuldickhead]

As big an OT3 shipper as I am, I have to admit that both Roy and especially Keeley both would have a bit of a way to go based on how they end the series in order to be fully happy in the OT3. Jamie on the other hand I'm fairly sure has been up for it since s1 ep 1, and up for it without thinking it would be mostly hate sex from Roy since about S2 ep 6.

Hiya, nonny!

Keeley, I think, absolutely need some time alone. Some time voluntarily alone, I should say,

because she was single there for a bit in season 3, but she sure as hell wasn’t happy about it. While there are issues she need to adress in order to function well long-term in a relationship  (I am still rather upset that Roy is the one to apologise in 2x07, for instance), I also believe she just needs to be on her own for a bit; focus on herself, find out who she is outside of her romantic and/or sexual relationships, decide what she wants the balance between her career and her love life to look like… all that. Interestingly, and for all that she’s emotionally competent, I think that Keeley’s the one of them furthest from actually facing her issues face on. She needs to sit with herself for a bit, come to terms with the fact that there’s things she need to work on, and things she need to figure out… (Also, for her own sake, she needs to give Jamie and Roy time to figure out how the two of them can resolve their conflicts without turning her into a mediator; but the risk of that was arguably bigger earlier on.)

Roy now… Once he understands and accepts wanting to be in a relationship with Jamie, I think he would be very happy to be in the OT3 – but that’s when it gets dicey, isn’t it; when he starts to think he’s too happy? Because then he starts to question whether it can last, whether he deserves it, whether his partners will put up with him, and why should they, when he’s suck a fucking useless twat whom they’d be much better off without? Our Roy boy certainly has some way to go yet – but he’s brave and stubborn and has already taken the first step into Dr. Sharon’s office, so I’m confident he’ll get there. (There might be some macho jealousy bullshit for him and Jamie to sort out, too… and they might get so caught up in that they initially completely miss the fact that Keeley gets jealous, too, and feels left out sometimes, just because Jamie and Roy’s thing have grown so intense over the past year when Keeley was busy with other stuff. Then there’s the whole coach/player deal which I think Jamie is very happy to disregard and Roy… might not be so much, especially not when he’s new to the manager gig. And as much as Jamie might get off on Roy being rough with him, and as much as he understands Roy in general, I think Jamie needs Roy to be a bit more expressive with his affection down the road, or Jamie will start to feel insecure and… Well. Jamie doesn’t deal well with feeling insecure.)

And as for Jamie, I agree that Jamie would have been down for a threesome right from the get-go, but I think it’s fair to say that he would not, at that time, have been able to handle a proper triad relationship. The sex? Absolutely. The rest of it… Eh. Our darling prick had a lot of growing up to do, and while you certainly can do the growing while in a relationship, I think that as hot as the hate sex would have been (to Jamie and to me!), it would have been too volatile to last -- even given the fact that Jamie would probably soften a bit with Roy when given the attention (and reluctant admiration) he wants, which would in turn have Roy soften on Jamie a bit. (That said, I adore fic that explore them getting together early, when things are still very tense between Roy and Jamie, because them trying to navigate that is just messy and delightful.)

But Jamie’s spent the last year and a half reflecting and working on his issues, and he’s also been single for that whole time (as far as we know). He is, I should argue, very ready for a relationship; but he’s not gasping for one, desperate to be with someone just to not be alone. That’s a very good place to start from, so yeah, I certainly agree that out of the three Jamie is the one best emotionally equipped for the OT3 to commence at the end of S3. Which isn’t to say that Jamie doesn’t still have issues and work to do. Roy may have been first to escalate the argument in 3x12, but Jamie went right there with him, and Jamie also has shown a tendency to overcorrect when trying to adjust his behaviour, which may well cause some hiccups down the road. Additionally, while Jamie is often very open and forthright and expressive, he also has a habit of lying when he’d rather not delve into his real feelings or reasoning. That’s going to take some dealing with.

All in all, it’s likely to be a bumpier ride than we sometimes allow for – but to me that’s a feature, and not a bug! I like my ships messy – and at the end of the day, Ted Lasso was never about achieving perfection, but about trying, and trying again. And because – I think – of how much these characters love each other and how well they complement each other, they will keep on trying, stubbornly climbing back to their feet each time they fall down, doing better for themselves and for each other, offering support and encouragment and forgiveness – again and again, as they keep moving toward better; together, and so much happier for it.

[therentyoupay]

BROOOOO YOU UPDATED AT THE CENTER???? I just started rereading and was like “I love this fic, I’m so glad the author gave us as much as they did and it’s okay that it hasn’t updated in a while, they may never update it again, and I’ll be happy with what I have—WAIT A MINUTE IT UPDATED???!?!?!” Genuinely THRILLED, SO SO EXCITED, thank you so much!!!! 🤩🤩 idk if this matters much to you…but even if you never updated it again, like if life happened or you just weren’t feeling the fic anymore, I hope you know there’s lots of people out here who love what you’ve written and will always be grateful for what you’ve given us!!! I hope 2024 lets you enjoy writing and creating, and thank you SO MUCH for starting off this new year with a new chapter!!! ❤️❤️❤️ wishing you the best!!!

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭💕💕💕💕🙏🙏🙏🙏✨✨

i'm going to print this out and keep it forever and ever and ever

[wintfleur]

Hiii can I pls request 🌱 childhood home/room with Charles Leclerc or lewis and female reader? Loads of fluff and maybe nsfw?

For Charles like praising but if you write Lewis maybe an age gap, praising, pocessive? Soft but dominant for both and talking the reader through it with an extensive aftercare? Like all giggling and cuddling etc would loveee that

౨ৎ it’s called charm baby !

°. — pairings ( Lewis Hamilton x female! Reader )

°. — summary ( your boyfriend knows how to make you feel better, after dinner with him meeting your family doesn’t go well )

°. — details ( g; fluff & smut. w; smut, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!!!!), cursing, hair pulling, I think that’s all?. wc; 2.7k )

﹕─┈ prompt ~ childhood room

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( I COULD NOT STOP GIGGLING AS I READ THIS NONNIE YOU ARE A GENIUS !!!! This was my first Lewis fic, and I just loved writing for him so thank you for sending in the request, I really hope you enjoy this !!! I’m still kinda new to writing smut so I hope you guys like it <333 )

1k celly masterlist main masterlist f1 masterlist

“Well that went better than i expected” Lewis mused after he heard the sound of you closing the door behind you. His eyes were immediately drawn to your walls, taking in every detail with a fond smile. He always wondered what your childhood room looked like; he'd seen a few pictures of you in the room, but it was different from actually being there. He didn't get a chance of getting a good look earlier when the two of you had brought your shared luggage up, your youngest brother who was only a few years younger than you, whisking him away before he could really take everything in. 

You could hear the slight of sarcasm in his tone making you feel even worse on how your parents ⸺ no how your father treated him at dinner. The two of you decided to finally come visit your parents now that Lewis is on break. You were a little hesitant on coming, knowing how your father could be, but Lewis was convincing. Your mother was as sweet as always, asking questions about his career and giving his family good wishes, your two brothers were eager to talk about his career as well, your niece was absolutely smitten with him, and your father . . . completely uninterested. You knew he wasn't happy with you and Lewis's age-gap with how much he voiced his opinion about it, but still you thought he'd at least try . . . for you. 

“I’m really sorry lew, we shouldn't have come” you frowned as your eyes followed your boyfriend of a year around your room. He was taking in every detail, everything in your room made sense to him, everything was so you. Lewis looked away from your collection of posters over your desk and moved to sit on the edge of your bed facing you, a smile on his lips. “Don't say that baby, i know you really wanted to see your family, and I've had a great time.” 

“Give me a few more days and I'll get your dad to like me” Lewis promised as he leaned back on his hands, a small giggle leaving his lips as he saw the clearly old stuffed bear perfectly sitting on your bed. You feel your heart warm at his words, he was always so selfless, willing to go through anything just so he could see a smile on your pretty face. You swiftly lock your door and walk over to your boyfriend, the corner of your lips twitching up into a smirk when you watch how his eyes immediately drop to your swaying hips. 

“You are quite charming” You whispered as you placed your hands on your boyfriend's shoulders, feeling the smooth silk of his shirt as you climbed up onto his lap, the two of you keeping eye contact as he looked up at you. Lewis smirked as he heard your coquettish tone that he loved so much. The dress he bought you in Brazil riding up your thighs at the new position and he was eager to move his hands to caress your bare thighs, chills decorating your skin at his touch. 

“Oh, am i?” he teasingly asks you even though he was well aware how charming he is with how much you reminded him, a cocky smile on his lips. Lewis watched as you playfully rolled your eyes as you moved your hands to his nape, your breath hitching when you felt him slide his hands under your dress and up your thighs. You playfully chided him with a click of your tongue and a small shake of your head “Cockiness doesn't look good on you Lewis.” 

That's a lie. It looked really good on him . . . 

“Fuck but you do” lewis quickly breathed out as he looked up at you, swiftly moving one of his hands out from under your dress and tangling it in your hair at your nape and pulling you down into a wet kiss he’s wanted to do all day. A small sound of surprise leaves your lip that he's quick to swallow, his lips eagerly moving against yours. You move one of your hands to cup his cheek, the soft caress of your thumb on his jaw was completely different from the passionate kiss the two you were sharing. 

You absentmindedly grinded against your boyfriend's lap, a mix of a moan and a whine leaving your lips at the feeling of the friction against his bulging length and the feeling of his grip tightening on your hair. The two of you were both so desperate for each other's touch, having to be good and keep your hands to yourself all day in front of your family. God it was torture, especially seeing how good he looked. The lingering touches he left on your waist as he walked past you, or the soft touches on your thighs under the table. He knew what he was doing . . . 

You reluctantly pull away from your boyfriend's addictive lips, panting against his lips as you're slow to open your eyes. You lock eyes with lewis darkened ones, your thighs clenching around him when he untangles his fingers out of your hair and uses his thumb to wipe the spit off your tingling lips. “Please” your tone is desperate and whiny. You didn't have to say anything else; he knew what you wanted, and your eyes were begging him to fuck you.

You knew you were playing with fire, but your room was far enough from your parents, and you were too needy to really care. Lewis groaned as he felt you grind your hips impatiently against him, a smirk forming on his lips. He could feel you throbbing even with three layers of clothing between the two of you. Lewis chuckled and rested his hand on your collarbone, his thumb teasingly tracing the column of your throat, knowing that you were just itching to have him wrap his hand around it. His hand under your dress gripped your thigh “You think you can be quite hmm? Be my good girl?” 

“I promise lewis, i'll be your good girl” you promised as you nodded quickly, starting to get impatient as you felt his hand slowly move up and down your thigh, the cold chill of his rings against your warm skin sending a shiver down your spine. You couldn't wait anymore, and he could see that. The look in your eyes, the impatient rolling of your hips, 

“I know baby, you're always my good girl aren't you” Lewis whispered as slowly trailed his hand up the inside of your thigh. You let out a small huff of frustration, just wanting to feel his fingers calm that ache between your thighs. But you were quick to close your mouth and bite your lip at the stern look lewis gave you, he had no problem with you being needy, but he crossed the line at you being bratty. But he’ll take pity on his pretty girl, he moves his hand right to where you were needing him the most. A gasp leaving your lips at his touch while a small chuckle leaves him at how damp your panties were, his pointer finger teasingly rubbing your clit through your panties. 

“Mhm yes lew” you whimpered and leaned down to lay your head on his shoulder, softly biting his silk shirt to keep your moans at bay as he dips his fingers into your panties, covering his fingers in your slick and smoothly slipping two fingers inside your throbbing hole. You wrap your arms around Lewis muscular shoulders, a whine leaving your lips at the sudden stretch. 

Lewis smiles cheekily and looks down at you, your lips parted as sweet and quiet moans left your lips as he continued his slow movement, massaging your tight walls. Leaning down to whisper in your ear, his beard tickling your face, but you were too lost in pleasure to say anything about it “Awe darling, you're just sucking my fingers up, so tight.” 

“Feels so good” You moaned out, tilting your head to start kissing and sucking your boyfriend's godly neck, desperately needing to occupy your mouth so you wouldn't be moaning out praises and curses at the pleasure your boyfriend was giving you. Lewis let out a quiet grunt at the feeling of your lips on his burning skin, sucking and nibbling. And the way you gently rutted against his fingers and the choked-out moan you let out when he curled his fingers up, made him want to lay you across the bed and fuck you until you couldn't take it anymore. 

“Lew i need more ⸺ please fuckkk i need more” you begged, letting out a sharp gasp when he starts rubbing your clit with his thumb, his hand covered in your slick. Lewis smirks and locks eyes with you, your eyes glazed over. His poor baby was already fucked out and he hasn't even taken his cock out. Lewis kisses your forehead and slowly pulls his fingers out of your sopping hole and softly patting your clit as he whispers.

 “Only because you asked so prettily.” 

“Fuck darling, you take me so fucking well” Lewis got out between his grunts, his thumbs dipped into the dimples of your back as he holds tightly onto your waist as he thrusts into you from behind. His eyebrows furrowed and his lips parted as his gaze was fixed on where your bodies connected ⸺ loving how good your pussy swallows him in. He slides his hands down to hold your ass, his fingers sinking into your skin and spreading it open slightly to watch as his dick covered in your slick disappears in your needy cunt. 

A soft chuckle leaves his lips when he notices your trembling thighs “Feels good, huh?” 

“Feels so good” you mewled in pleasure, your arms were stretched under the coolness of your pillows, and the soft fabric of your duvet against your cheek and naked body felt so good against your burning skin. Your face was smushed against your soft pillow, hoping that it would help muffle your uncontrollable moans that only got more frequent the harder his thrusts got. 

Lewis pulls up your hips and adjusts the pillow under your hips, the new angle causing him to pound into you deeper. A loud moan leaving your lips at how deep he was stretching you ⸺ you felt so full. The sound of your skin meeting creates a lewd noise that makes you feel like you were in a trance, being lulled by the rhythmic sound. You pull your pillow closer to you, whines and moans leaving your parted lips as your body jerks forward from the hard thrusts “It's too much!” 

Lewis leans down as he continues fucking into your aching cunt, one of his hands softly rubbing up your back before tangling his hands into your hair and making a makeshift ponytail and pulling you up against his chest. Your back arched and one of your trembling hands moved behind you and dug your fingers into the skin of Lewis thigh so you wouldn't fall, a delicious hiss leaving his lips at the sting he welcomed. “You can take it baby ⸺ we both know you can” he whispered huskily in your ear, trailing off into a taunting coo, both of you thinking back on the countless times of you fucking yourself on his cock. 

“You gonna cum for me love?” Lewis moaned, feeling the way you clenched around him, the feeling bringing him closer to his own peak. “Yes lew!” you whined as you tilted your head back against him. Lewis kept his eyes on you taking in the beauty of your side profile as he continued to fuck you. Your eyebrows were furrowed, and your eyes were glazed over with pleasure, your mouth parted as quiet moans slipped past your lips. 

“I’m gonna cum  ⸺ fuckk” you cried out, but it came out muffled from lewis hand quickly covering your mouth, your head tipping forward as you felt that rope inside you snap, letting you fall into your own desire. Everything went silent for a second and you swore you lost vision as you came undone. And like a chain reaction, Lewis spilled himself deep inside of you, not being able to hold back once he felt you cum around him. Quiet grunts leaving his lips as he tilted his head back in pleasure. 

Your trembling body fell forward on your bed, a whimper leaving your lips at the feeling of him slipping out of you while a hiss left his. You snuggled your face into your unruly sheets as you tried to catch your breath and calm down from the intense orgasm your boyfriend led you to. Lewis’s sweaty chest heaved as he panted and also tried to catch his breath, his eyes closing for a few seconds. 

He looks down at your tired body and places his hands on the bed at the sides of your body, softly kissing your back a few times a smile on his lips at the sight of your sweaty body. You let out a quiet groan as you rolled over in bed, your glazed over eyes looking up at your smiling boyfriend. Lewis leaned down, placing his hands by your head so he wouldn't crush you with his body weight. 

“You did so good f’me” lewis praised you as he placed gentle and soft kisses all over your face. You smiled and shut your eyes at the soft feeling of his lips, one of his hands moving to gently caress your side. His head falling into the crook of your neck to softly kiss. You hum in satisfaction at his soft and sweet touches and whisper “up for a bath?” 

Lewis placed a few more kisses on your shoulder and collarbone before sitting up on his knees between your spread legs. You smile and sit up as well, placing your hand on his abdomen before placing a soft and meaningful kiss over his heart. Lewis looked down at you with such love, taking your hand on his chest into his and placing a kiss on it before whispering “Always with you darling.”

Lewis helps you out of your bed and into your bathroom that was connected to your room, his hands flipping the switch while you were already moving to the shelf in your bathroom, grabbing a few candles and setting them on the edge around your big white bathtub. You would be lying if you said you didn't miss your bathtub the most about your childhood room. 

Lewis rests his hands on your waist as you lean down to turn on the water, hot water soon pouring out and filling the bath. You giggle when you come up, your back coming flush against his chest. Lewis was quick to place a few kisses on your shoulder and whisper in your ear how beautiful you looked. You turn around and playfully scold him with a grin on your face “You're such a flirt.” 

“I prefer to say I'm just charming” Lewis smirked, using your words against you. You bit your lip and nod your head, touché. You let Lewis get into the bath first, and then you. Your body nestling between his legs and his arms wrapped around your waist as you leaned back against his chest. The two of you enjoyed a few minutes of peaceful silence as you relaxed in the warm bath, your muscles relaxing from the cardio. 

“I love you” you broke the silence as you tilted your head to look back at him. He could see the reflection of the candle burning in your eyes, and your lips were so red from all the bruising kisses the two of you shared. He brought his water-soaked hand and cups your cheek, bringing you closer and resting his forehead on the side of your head. Yes, the dinner didn't go the way the both of you wanted, but he wouldn't have changed anything because it brought the two of you here . . . in that soft moment filled with nothing but love and vanilla candles. 

“And i love you “

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( ahhh im nervous about this 🤭 please tell me what you guys think 💋 )

°. — taglist ( @iloveyou3000morgan @copper-boom @cixrosie @partyinpitlane @toasttt11 )

[runa-falls]

Happy new year sweetheart and thank you for making me fall for Miguel over and over 😘

happy new year nonnie! i actually have a miguel-themed gift for you 🙃

obsessed

pairing: miguel o’hara x reader

cw: explicit (18+), mutual masturbation (kinda), reader has a degrading/neglectful kink?, soft!miguel, got theyre so simpy for each other, naked male + partially closed female, m!masturbation, cum eating, no contact orgasm 😀

wc: 1k

a/n: HAPPY NEW YEAR BITCHES!! um. miguel is staying with me for this new year :/ whoops (not beta-read at alll) i finished this right when i was leaving for dinner so idek what it is lol

masterlist

---

Mutual masturbation had never been a regular occurrence in his previous relationships. It always seemed counterintuitive. Why would he jerk off when there’s a willing cunt he could be buried in?

But you’re different. Even though you never said anything, and he never pushes you to, he knows your little secret:

You’re a little voyeur. A closeted masochist.

You have this thing where you want to feel vulnerable and unworthy – hurt – before getting scooped up in his arms and make you feel like you’re the only girl in his world. 

After the first couple of times, you don’t even pretend to watch the porn video with him anymore, seemingly more interested in him and his attention -- or lack thereof-- to your presence in the room as he gets off. 

The way you cream for him as he fucks his hand to the thought of another woman is something else. He can tell that you crave the humiliation and embarrassment it brings. Of course, he isn’t really jerking himself to the porn at all, it’s all you, but you don’t need to know that.  

He squeezes himself at the base, stifling a deep groan. He’s already pulsing in his hand, dangerously close to the edge with how prettily you blink up at him, kneeling in front of the couch, half-naked and wanting. 

Your thighs are straddled over a cute heart-shaped pillow, the only type of stimulation he allows you to have. You bite your bottom lip as your hips move eagerly.

You aren’t supposed to make a sound – as it distracts him from the porn – but a few quiet whimpers still escape your mouth.  He’s just so hot with his heaving chest and lust blown eyes, trying so hard to look like he’s ignoring you when you know he’s just drowning out the overzealous moans and squeals of the TV to hear the shy whines next to him. 

Your rounded eyes, glazed with want and awe, drink in his every movement, not wanting to miss a single detail of the man in front of you. 

Miguel is so meticulous with how he touches himself. Working himself up from trailing a finger along the length of his shaft until he’s twitching with want, just to see how sensitive he is, to massaging the spot right under the tip of his cock because he knows how much you love to watch him drip and leak with precum. 

While he fucks his fist, another large hand will caress his body, over his dark nipples and the rippling muscles of his torso – something you wish you could do yourself. But the no-touching rule is most of the fun. It’s the denial, the knowledge that he really wants it too, but refuses because he knows what you need. 

He’s a generous lover to you, he’d do just about anything for you, but he’s so selfish to himself. 

Even then, he knows you’ll only do as much as he does. 

That means speeding up and grinding hard onto the pillow when he strokes himself generously, or edging yourself when he decides to slow down and let his cock twitch in his hand – so close, yet unbearably unsatisfied.

And he loves to edge, not just because it makes the euphoria of a climax that much better, but he loves to see your trembling body from the corner of his eye, knowing that just one touch, one sweet coo from his lips, could send you spiraling into an endless orgasm.  

You’re just so cute, with your furrowed brows, frustrated from the lack of orgasms he’s allowing himself – and you and the way you’re flushed from your cheeks to the top of your tits, happily humiliated from his lack of attention. It’s taking all of his control not to tackle you to the ground and show you who you belong to — who you’re unconditionally loved by.

He lets out a low groan as his hand speeds up and you can see the tension in his jaw as he clenches his teeth. He’s close and you know it. 

You dutifully scoot closer to the couch, back arched with your hands on your thighs to push out your tits.

This is your favorite part. After all the distance between yourself, Miguel likes to cum on your body, painting you in his lust as another way to show you who you belong to. You wait for him to turn to you, to let you in between his thighs with a soft moan.

But this time he doesn’t.

“Not this time, baby.” His voice is husky and his body tenses. You can barely hold in your pathetic little whimpers when he refuses to finish on you, opting to cum on his stomach just to tease you. 

Beads of milky white splatter onto his abs, trailing down the rippling muscle teasingly. Your mouth waters at the sight.

He swipes a few fingers through it before holding them up in front of you. You don’t have time to admire them before his glistening fingertips tap against your bitten lips, inviting you to have a taste. Your tongue noisily slurps around them, quickly cleaning them off as you let out a moan, begging for more. 

“Such a greedy little baby. You wanna clean up the rest?” Your round eyes drift down his torso to the splatters of cum glazed onto his muscled stomach. You feel your mouth water at the sight, cunt throbbing as you remind yourself who it’s for. Anyone but you. 

You nod frantically, “Yes please.” 

“What an obedient girl. Ok, go on.” You hungrily lean in, licking broad strokes along his stomach, trying to suck up everything that you can. “You like that? Cleaning up the leftovers?” You moan in response, savoring the taste on your tongue. Your desperate little cunt can barely take the humiliation. 

“You wish you were eating it out of a cunt, don’t you? A freshly fucked hole to remind you how pathetic you are.” Your eyes roll to the back of your head as your cunt flutters around nothing. You can’t believe you’re cumming half-clothed without even being touched. 

You can feel the warmth of his stomach against your cheek as you rest your head against him. “Fuck, baby. D-Did you just cum?” Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, thighs still trembling from the overwhelming wave of pleasure. 

“Mhm…”

And he thought he was obsessed with you. 

[fayes-fics]

(Be)Longing

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Mutual rescue, mutual jealousy, longing and belonging.

Warnings: None, really. Angst, jealousy, fluff. Shyness and insecurities. Minor character injuries. Time jumps.

Word Count: 5.2k

Authors Note: This is an anon request fill here (request: Benedict x shy!insecure reader, with some angst, jealousy fluff, and all the good stuff. Happy ending, of course.). Sorry it took so long to get to this Nonny; I have no idea if this is what you wanted, and I'm really not sure about it, but I hope you enjoy <3

I: Saved

“Unhand her at once!” 

The smooth, confident, older voice rings out across the village green, and suddenly the pack of nasty bullies who have your arms in a grip seem to melt away from around you.

You don’t even think to pause and thank the person who broke up the mob. No, your fight-or-flight response is in full-on flight mode. The minute your arms are released, and you see the break in the circle, you run. Run as fast as your legs will carry you. Bolting down the road and into the safety of the churchyard near your house. You do not want to run home upset and worry your mother, so you do the next best thing, the thing you are becoming increasingly good at, hiding. You climb a crabapple tree. And then you let the tears flow—just flooding down your cheeks.

You hate this new village your parents have moved you to. Your father, a doctor, had been offered the position as village physician, and now here you are, moved from Surrey to Kent, but it might as well be the other side of the world. You miss your friends. You miss your old village. You are not the most outgoing of people, and the upheaval in your life has been immense. You yearn to be back in your old, familiar, comfortable home.

You are sniffling, taking deep breaths, angrily wiping tears, and preparing to face your family when he appears. 

“Are you alright?” 

You startle. Beneath you, squinting up into the tree, is the owner of the voice who rescued you. Seeing him now, you feel an odd warmth in your ribs. He looks older, maybe fifteen, if you had to guess. He seems benign with a calm face, and his expression is one of sympathy and concern.

“Yes,” you squeak quietly.

“It is safe for you to come down,” he says gently, “should you wish.”

“Are they gone?” you query, wishing you could hide the tremble in your voice.

“They will not bother you again; I can assure you,” he states with absolute certainty.

Your eyes go wide, “What did you do? I don't want to make it worse for my brother,” you fret.

“I told them if they mess with you again, they will have the Bridgerton brothers to contend with,” he nods, with an air that suggests the name is of some local import.

“Is that you?” you ask timidly, not wanting to get down from the tree just yet.

He chuckles. “You must be new here?”

“Yes… we just moved here two weeks ago. Those boys have been tormenting my brother since his first day at school. They appear to have chosen me to pick on as he is not around,” you frown, dusting a twig from your skirt.

“Well, that ends now. Now, do you need help down?” he asks.

“No,” you sniffle, “I am capable.”

“I wouldn't doubt it,” he nods politely and steps aside to allow you space to jump down.

With a quick swing, you do so, landing neatly on your little brown boots. You unfurl to your full standing height, but even then, you have to crane your neck to look up at him.

“Very impressive,” he smiles warmly. “I am Benedict. Benedict Bridgerton. Welcome to Kent.” he thrusts out a hand to shake and, bemused at the formality, you take it and shake as if a businessman, not a ten-year-old girl.

“Thank you, Benedict. I am y/n y/l/n. My father is the new physician,” you gesture vaguely over the church wall towards your home next to the rectory.

“Ahhh,” he nods in understanding.

“And thank you,” you curtsy.

“Whatever for?” he frowns.

“For rescuing me,” you clarify.

“Oh please, that was nothing,” he waves dismissively. “I cannot abide bullies. Or any injustice really,” his eyes appear briefly unfixed, and he looks thoughtful, as if what he said just occurred to him as truth. Then he shakes his head and brings his attention back to you. “You are alright, though, correct? Able to get home?”

“Yes,” you confirm shyly.

“Then I shall be on my way” he tips an imaginary cap at you that makes you giggle, and he smiles goofily before turning away and walking out of the churchyard.

A little part of your heart yearns to follow him, the boy with the hazy, kind eyes and the pleasing smile, who just made your transition into life in the area much more bearable. 

You and your brother are never bothered by that gang of boys again.

II: Envy

“Y/n, this is Miss Clarissa Worthing.” 

Benedict introduces you to the willowy blonde whose hand is looped through the crook of his arm.

“Clarissa, this is Miss y/n y/l/n. She will beat half of my family at Pall Mall once you can coax her out of her shell,” he teases delicately with a friendly glint in his eye that makes your heart flutter against your ribcage.

Clarissa nods in cool acknowledgement, then cranes her neck to whisper something, her lips brushing his earlobe, her regard for you already gone. You curtsy politely, smile weakly and scurry away, feeling clumsy and out of place, unsure of what else to say to this swan-like beauty. 

It's the summer after your fifteenth birthday, and he is back from his second year of university. It doesn't take much to deduce that this is the lady he is currently courting, accompanying him as she is to a garden party at Aubrey Hall. Jealousy clings to your skin like an invisible oily substance and taints your every thought.

Ever since that fateful day when he chased away your bullies, you have carried a torch for Benedict. The year after that incident, you sadly have to attend his father's funeral. Your own father unable to save the Viscount’s life. The forlornness on Benedict’s face as he stood there in the chilly church made your chest ache. You didn’t fully understand why at the time, but your impulse was to go up and wordlessly hold his hand. He looked so utterly unmoored and sad. You didn't, of course; you would never be so bold, but the impulse was so strong, a tingle on your palm that needed to touch him. It was all you could think about for days.

Over the intervening years, your soft spot for him grew with every encounter, the childish admiration morphing into something stronger, a deep-rooted longing. He always seemed to be the one who cared the most—about his siblings, his mum, and even the problems of the wider world. And as your body started to change and you began to feel differently about boys, your feelings for him had another layer of confusing complexity. His was the first face that popped into your head when your friends giggled about boys and talked of marriage. 

Even now, it seems ridiculous to entertain that he would ever pursue you… you are stuck in small village life, the daughter of a doctor, not from a noble family, and he is off in the world, experiencing things you have no notion of. And yet he is the only man you have ever met who intrigues you that way. The idea of marriage not being entirely abhorrent, provided it is to him.

And so you just watch—the perpetual wallflower. Watch as Benedict and Clarissa make the circuit of the party. Effortlessly chatting among various members of the Ton, looking like the picture-perfect young couple.

“Makes you sick, doesn't it?” Eloise’s dry tone pops over your shoulder. 

You smile at Benedict's little sister, just a couple of years younger than you and a kindred spirit at these events, mostly wanting nothing to do with them.

“She is very beautiful,” you offer politely, sipping your lemonade.

“She steals,” Eloise states plainly, making you splutter your drink all over your face and dress, the little immediate crowd of attention it draws to you mortifying. Luckily Benefict is far enough away and otherwise engaged that he does not see it. You are not sure you could live that down.

“That's a scandalous thing to say,” you hiss softly as you blush under the attention of a few strangers and furtively clean yourself with a serviette as best you can.

“Tell that to mother’s silk gloves,” Eloise volleys back, her disgust evident. Apparently oblivious to your embarrassing predicament or perhaps just uncaring of what others think. “She will be gone before the weekend is out, mark my words.”

You don't doubt it, knowing how spirited Eloise is. And how well she has her brother's ear. You know he will instinctively trust what she says as truth. As she marches up to grab his arm and pull him away, mostly, you wish you had more of her bravado, her fearlessness. While you agree with her outlook on many things, you are not built of the mettle she is—not one who draws attention. Still, you watch with a twisted, guilty, but victorious smile as Eloise pulls Benedict aside and has words with him. 

You never hear of Miss Clarissa Worthing again.

III: Jealousy

“Lord Boswell would be a wonderful match, my dear,” your mother smiles encouragingly, handing you a slice of lemon drizzle cake. 

You can't hide the curl of your lip at the mere thought. 

It's the morning after the first ball of the season, just after your twentieth birthday, and you are in the London townhouse your parents have rented for the season, awaiting any suitors to call. Less than three days into your first season, you want the merry-go-round to stop. A dizzying whirl of social engagements you feel unequipped to deal with, wanting nothing more than to be back in Kent, stealing into the grounds of Aubrey Hall with a good book. Perhaps even spend time with Benedict.

Just the very thought of him causes a flare in your belly. Since his return from his studies in Cambridge, he has seemingly moved to Aubrey Hall full-time, spending his days painting the Kentish countryside with hopes of establishing himself as an artist. You have spent more time together in the last year or so than ever before, often finding yourself reading quietly in the shade with Eloise as he paints nearby, his company always somehow a balm as much as a thrill. And it feels as if there has been a subtle shift in how he regards you, giving you the unbearable lightness of hope. Perhaps he sees you in a different light now that you have come of age, no longer the child you were. There have been some moments where he has looked at you and felt it, like a weight on your skin; even as you doubt many other things about yourself, you don't doubt there is something there—a most wondrous and perplexing development.

Your butler bustles in and announces something that makes your heart leap into your throat.

“Mr Benedict Bridgerton has arrived.”

Your mother's eyebrows shoot up to her hairline, giving you a sideways glance. A Bridgerton, even if not the Viscount, would be more than sufficient in her eyes. Especially one known so well to your family.

“To call on Miss y/l/n?” your mother asks, excitement evident in the breathy question.

“Oh no, ma’am, apologies. To see your husband. His brother, the Viscount, has dispatched him here to talk about some business in Kent,” your butler explains, somewhat apologetic as he realises the misconstrued intent.

Your mother’s disappointed face is only a match for your roiling stomach. 

Your father folds his newspaper and jumps up. “I shall meet with him in my study, Jenkins. Please show him there,” and with a nod to you both, he leaves.

It has been just two days since your presentation to the Queen. That had been a waking nightmare. Parading down a long hallway at the Palace to be presented to her majesty filled you with utter dread. All eyes upon you, your every move and inch of appearance judged, and you are certain you were found lacking. Your status is unknown in the Ton; your parents pushing you into the season, hoping for an advantageous match. But you feel they could tell from one look where you belonged—almost invisible, on the periphery, a wallflower. Quiet, reserved, bookish, watching more than participating.

“Lord Boswell is here,” your butler reenters the room moments later.

Your stomach clenches. Your mother can barely contain her glee. You are so confused; you barely spoke two words to the man as you danced the previous night. Your conversation skills were utterly lacking, and he seemingly could not find an engaging topic to broach. You were keen for the music to end so you could return to standing and observing. You cannot believe that awkward interaction would be enough to propel the man to call on you, having said so little to each other just a few hours earlier. And yet here he is, a bunch of flowers in hand and a slightly vacant smile. The fleeting thought of marrying such a dull person makes you mildly nauseated.

Your mother hurries to the other side of the parlour and leaves you to converse, wearing a happy, hopeful expression that you hate to dash. And so you stumble the best you can through small talk. He talks of the weather, his property, and his interests but never asks anything about you—as if he is a candidate for a job you are interviewing for. In some ways, that is perhaps accurate, but part of you yearns for him to show interest in you, not just talk incessantly of himself.

Just as you give up hope of escaping anytime soon, you startle as he lays a hand on yours on the sofa between you. You don't even hear what he is saying anymore, just staring at where his glove covers yours, not liking the sensation, wanting to claw yourself away and withdraw. 

Motion in the doorway makes you look up; Benedict is with your father. And suddenly, your heart is racing. Benedict looks taken aback; something sour in his expression you have never seen before makes you want to run to him and ask what is wrong. But you don't. You do the polite, reserved thing and smile.

“Mrs y/l/n, Lord Boswell,” he greets politely. “Miss y/l/n,” he adds, and you could swear he uses a different, lower register. Something inside you turns pulpy and ripe, blossoming just for him. 

Before you know it, he has taken a seat on the sofa facing yours, shooting you the tiniest of winks that could be an eye twitch, but you know him better than that—seeing the sparkle of mischief in his eye. Your parents seem to exchange nonplussed glances, uncertain why he has chosen to stay.

“Boswell,” Benedict begins, shooting the man his most impervious glance. “What of your qualities make you an ideal suitor for Miss y/l/n here?” he questions.

Boswell splutters and seems taken aback, clearly not expecting such an interrogation, especially from a man who isn't your father or brother. Benedict’s eyes are back on you as the man stumbles through an inadequate and entirely uninteresting response that you do not even listen to. Your whole focus is on Benedict, feeling unable to breathe.

“Hmmm,” Benedict hums as he ends, “and what have you to say about Miss y/l/n’s interests? Are they perhaps complimentary to yours?”

“I… I did not think to ask,” Boswell falters, his cheeks reddening at the faux pas.

Benedict looks almost disgusted. 

“You claim to be interested in providing your suit but ask nothing of what makes her the wonderful person she is?” he scolds, and your mouth opens into a little O of surprise. “Have you not asked her about her excellent marksmanship? How she can shoot an archery target better than anyone else within ten miles of Aubrey Hall? Have you not asked after her artistic skills? You see that cushion you sit next to? That is the work of her fair hand.”

You barely register as Boswell twists to look at the item and then at you; you have eyes for no one but Benedict as he continues, his voice loud and clear even over the sound of your heart pounding hard in your ears.

“Have you asked her about her love for literature and poetry? How she will correct you that it was, in fact, Guildenstern, not Rosencrantz, who enters first in the first folio version of Hamlet?” 

You duck your head and blush. That is precisely what you did to him last year, surprising even yourself with your boldness. And he remembers. 

He continues. “Have you asked about her love of animals? Perhaps you need to hear the tale of Mr Whiskers and how she was able to nurse the beloved cat of my sister Hyacinth back to health. You have not asked her of any such things?!?” his tone incredulous.

Even from the corner of your eye, you can tell that your parents’ faces are as shocked as Boswell’s. And suddenly, you recognise this as a Benedict Bridgerton you have seen before. It’s the one that comes out when defending those he loves against injustice or an unworthy opponent—the staunch guardian. 

“If you cannot find it in yourself to show such interest, I would hope she will entertain better suitors,” Benedict sniffs dismissively. “As a long-term friend, I cannot in all good conscience allow this young woman to be pursued by anyone unworthy of her,” he concludes cuttingly, his nostrils flare, and his lip curls just a fraction as his eyes flit to where Boswell’s hand still rests upon yours.

Even as you struggle through your jumble of thoughts about everything he has said, one question so singular strikes you. Is this is Benedict….. jealous?? Jealous of your suitor? Finding ways to cut into him with his precise knowledge about you? The thought seems so fanciful that you want to dismiss it, but the sliver of possibility it offers is exhilarating. Just the chance of it being true has you utterly undone.

You barely even listen as your father jumps up and, with some belated sense of defence, agrees with Mr Bridgerton and asks Boswell if perhaps he should take his leave and return another day when he has thought of more engaging things to ask of you. Every fibre of your being yearns to talk to Benedict somewhere private, but he gives excuses to leave as quickly as your chastised suitor is dispatched.

Boswell never darkens your door again.

IV:  Rescue

“Penny, for your thoughts,” Eloise smirks as she catches you staring into space on the terrace. Your cheeks blush, and you do not admit to where your thoughts had wandered—to her older brother.

“Will you come with me for a walk?” you ask, feeling the need to get away before you cross paths with the man who has occupied your thoughts more often than not of late.

It’s the week of the midsummer Hearts & Flowers ball at Aubrey Hall, and you are glad to have escaped the hubbub of the London scene and to be back in Kent for a few days' respite.

“No, I would prefer the company of Mary Shelley this afternoon,” she states airily, waving a book she holds.

So you set off alone, walking the grounds you now know so well. You are half an hour into your stroll, admiring the wildflowers along the eastern fringes of the grounds, not far from the village, when you see him approaching in the distance.

Benedict is riding his trusty horse and looks so majestic your chest constricts. Clothed in just a billowing white shirt and beige britches, you have rarely seen him look so informal. Or so very, very attractive. Your palms feel sweaty, and something stirs deep inside your body as you slink slightly into the treeline, hoping to remain unseen. A chance to merely observe this beautiful man, even knowing it is wrong to do so. To spy on him as such. Just as he draws close enough that you can see the flex of his leg muscles under the material, which causes all sorts of sensations in your body, a startled deer darts across the path and spooks his horse.

Time seems to slow as you watch his horse rear up and make the most terrible whinny of fear. 

And then your heart is in your throat as you watch horrified as Benedict loses his grip on the reins in surprise and is thrown violently backwards to the ground.

Bile rises in your throat as you see how his body hits the dirt path, unable to brace for impact. The air fills with a blood-curdling scream that you belatedly realise is your own, and before you know it, you are sprinting. Sprinting towards him. Your whole focus narrows to his body splayed on the ground, worryingly still, as his horse bolts away. Heart pumping wildly and adrenaline coursing through your veins, you pull up to him and skid to your knees.

He is still conscious but barely. Moaning slightly. 

“Do not move!” You bark, and even in his woozy state, he appears taken aback by your ferocity. “I mean it, Benedict!” you bite out as he attempts to move his arm.

He seems to mumble a noise of ascent as you try your best to assess any injuries, having learned some things from observing your father over the years, but you realise he needs proper medical attention. Where you are on the grounds, it’s closer to your home than Aubrey Hall.

“I am going to get my father,” you explain as calmly as you can, “for the love of God, Benedict, do NOT attempt to move until he gets here.”

A wan smile spreads across his face even as he winces in pain. “Hmm, fine. I promise to stay still,” he sighs, “....prefer to do it for the love of you…,” he mutters slurringly before he appears to pass out.

Knowing he has likely struck his head, you try your darndest to put what he said out of your mind. A head injury would be the only way to explain such a comment, even as you are praying he doesn't have one. 

Heart still beating out of control, and not knowing what possesses you, you lean over and press the quickest shyest of kisses onto his lips—pulling back a few inches before he can even acknowledge it happened.

“Don’t you dare go anywhere on me, Benedict Bridgerton,” you whisper fiercely, just in time to see his eyes pop open, hazy and clouded with something you have never seen before. It’s not the pain he is in, though. And it’s not confusion, amusement or even irritation. It’s something else, so blisteringly intense your legs want to turn to jelly.

“I won’t, I promise,” he attests, his tone rough, ragged.

There are a couple of seconds where all you do is stare wildly at each other, and then, with a reassuring squeeze of his hand, you take off running. You have never run so far and so fast in your life; fear makes your muscles work harder than they ever have before. It’s probably only a few minutes, but it feels like a lifetime.

Your parents almost burst out of their skins in shock as you barrel into the house, panting wildly, wordlessly grabbing your father's medicine bag, and he reflexively springs into action. 

You run to the stables and hurriedly hook up the long cart he uses when he needs to transport patients, and the look he shoots you is filled with concern.

“Who is it?” he asks as you climb aboard and direct him.

“Benedict,” you tremble, and there is a world of understanding in your father's eyes as he cracks the whip, and the horse jolts faster. 

Perhaps your adoration is less concealed than you like to believe, but at this moment, you only care about getting him the help he needs. You are grateful your father doesn’t ask questions as you speed along. 

And it becomes a blur as you reach the site, grateful Benedict laid still as you requested. Your father examines him and fires questions that are answered lucidly, tending to some immediate wounds and bandaging in places. Before you know it, you are helping your father with a canvas stretcher and insisting on sitting with Benedict in the back of the cart as your father takes the patient back to Aubrey Hall. 

Never addressing the fact that you grip each other's hands so tight that both of your knuckles go white.

V: Belonging

“You can come in.”

Benedict’s voice calls out, bemused as you vacillate in the doorway, not realising that he can see you in a mirror reflection. 

So at his invitation, you blush and scuttle into his room. Awkward, unsure what to do after your bold, daring, downright impertinent behaviour when he sustained his injuries. Part of you is hopeful he does not remember it.

It’s been two days, and he has made excellent progress under your father's watchful eye. The minute your father had pulled up at the house, you dropped your hold on his hand. And as word spread, it was a frenzy of activity that you found yourself superfluous to. The last you had seen was Benedict being carried inside for a more thorough examination.

Luckily, it turns out he has no lasting damage; his head was uninjured beyond a mild concussion. He is bruised all over, likely has some cracked ribs and has a sprained wrist, but he will be fine after some rest.

“H.. how are you?” your ask quietly, stilted, fiddling with your dress nervously.

“Much better,” his tone soft, “only because of you.”

You look up and meet his gentle gaze. “I merely did what anyone would have done,” you demure.

“Nonsense,” he counters, “you ordered me to stay still and await the doctor. If you weren’t there, I likely would have done myself additional injury being stubborn,” he points out dryly.

You don’t know what to say in response, so you change tack. “Is your horse alright?”

“Yes. Colin found him wandering around the wildflower meadow, munching on all manner of grasses. Never happier, completely uninjured,” he assures.

You nod, glad to hear the news. Then you allow the room to lapse into silence, unsure how to commence your profuse apology.

“I am very sor….”

He stops you with a bandaged hand held up.

“If you even begin to apologise for saving me, well then I shall be most vexed,” he chides, but there is no heat there, a lopsided grin tugging at his handsome features. “Besides, the more pertinent point of discussion is the fearless woman you can be when needed. The person you are becoming, when you allow yourself to, is quite something,” you bow your head as your cheeks heat at his praise. “I would have injured myself months before now had I known I would meet the creature who sits behind that cloud of shyness. Just look at what you did, taking change so very effectively,” he flatters then there is a pause. “Hell, even being brave enough to kiss me.” 

Your head shoots up, and your mouth falls open.

“Oh yes,” he chuckles, “don’t think I forgot that part,” His voice has lowered to a pitch that buzzes right through your being.

“I… I was worried I… I was going to lose you,” you stutter, “and I-I’m sorry that was terrible of me to take liberties like that. Please, please forgive me?” you beseech.

“It was not in any sense of the word terrible,” he disputes, “the exact opposite. There is nothing to forgive. But there is one way you can make it up to me…?” he hedges.

“Anything, please,” you beg, so hopeful of absolution.

He holds out his hands and gestures for you to perch on the bed beside him. Almost without thought, you do so, even as you feel your pulse speeding up. You have rarely been this close, and now you are transfixed by all the tiny flecks of colour in his iris and the hints of stubble around his jaw.

“Kiss me again,” he requests; a finger trails lightly over the back of your hand. “But properly this time. Give me a chance to kiss you back.”

You just gawp at him in utter shock, heart pounding again, just like it was that day. You don't move away. You can't. Rooted to the spot. Unable to stop staring at his plush bottom lip.

“You cannot mean it…” you stutter when you finally find your tongue, disbelieving.

“Does this seem like I do not mean it?” he argues ardently, and before you know it, he is sitting up and leaning in.

And then warm lips touch yours, and fireworks explode inside your chest. 

You feel like you are drowning in the very best way as your lips move together gently. Everything about the moment is sweet and light, but promising more, something tart that makes you want to climb atop him and crush yourself against him. Just as you feel the instinct to open your mouth to him, he pulls back, looking lost and found all at once.

“I need you to know something,” he begins, grabbing both your hands and placing them between his. “It pains me to see you ever doubting yourself or if you belong. You belong. Everywhere you go. You have so much to give to the world,” he states passionately.

“I… “ you falter, wanting to believe him, the version of you he sees.

“You do. Hell, you give me a reason to get up every day. To try. To be better. I would not be the artist I am now were it not for your words of encouragement as I painted all those afternoons.”

You are dumbstruck. You honestly didn't believe he was taking on board what you said. Mostly just encouraging him to follow his instincts when he seemed to doubt them.

“And now it’s time someone did the same for you. Be the encouragement you need. You deserve everything, y/n. And it would be my greatest honour to try to give it to you?” he adds, a gently loving smile lighting up his face. 

Your heart sings as you realise this is the declaration you have been waiting half of your life to hear. Before you can stop yourself, you launch yourself at him, this time being the one to demand a kiss that he happily obliges. 

“I have a question,” you state as your lips part, your boldness growing with every moment. “Mr Bridgerton, were you jealous when I had a suitor?” you tease, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

He chuckles and nuzzles your cheek. “My god, you have no idea.”  You cant help the victorious giggle, basking in the fizz in your veins.

“I suppose it was payback for Ms Worthing. She of the ironic name. She was never worthy of you,” you state passionately.

He laughs with a headshake. “Perhaps it is our ability to rescue each other that makes us so best suited,” he opines. “I do believe we may belong together,” he adds.

And you couldn't agree more.

In fact, you are never alone again from that day on.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz

[fcthots]

here with some Christmas gus ask 💪💪

when jason sets up the Christmas tree he has to place the decorations of the tree high enough, out of gus's reach, because gus always plays with them and knocks the Christmas decorations if they're within close reach

- 🦇

Merry Christmas nonnie!! Gus is the best present

Tim had a minor injury. Very minor. That was why he collapsed on the fire escape of your apartment. Okay, maybe the blood loss wasn't ideal, but hey. He's not dead yet.

Though he thinks he might die out of spite when he sees the large orange ball of fluff staring at him from the window. Gus's screech of a meow does not help the migraine brewing behind his eyes. Though he supposes he should be thankful when said demon screech alerts you to the bleeding bird on your balcony. He watches the shock and worry on your face as you use one hand to tear open the window and the other to hold the still yelling cat away from his desired escape route.

"Tim, what the fuck??? JASON"

He tries to say "it's fine," but to be completely honest, he's not sure he gets the words out. He sees Jason come barrelling down the hallway, eyes checking over your body for injury until he spots Tim still laying in a pile on his fire escape.

"Hey." He is fairly confident that he managed to get his mouth to move this time. Jason does not respond to his greeting in the same kind manor Tim had opened with. Rude.

Jason manages to pick Tim up and deposit him into a chair. He spends time stitching up the knife wound Tim got from what he swears was "just a lucky hit." Tim takes Jason's mother henning in stride while you make him something to eat, insisting that a granola bar doesn't count as dinner. Gus is not happy about Tim's intrusion into his home, watching his every move. Tim assumes the cat thinks it's being subtle, but all 20 pounds of cat do not hide behind the leg of the kitchen table as well as it may think. Especially when it flops over as Jason passes, heading to grab some spare clothes for Tim who "shouldn't grapple home with a stab wound."

Tim huffs and crosses his arms, only slightly wincing as it tugs at his stitches. It's only then that he notices the tree, the tree that only has the top half decorated. Almost three feet above the ground of this tree has no ornaments. He can find no discernible reason. He knows Jason would have decorated the apartment November first and it is well into December. He's seen the ridiculous number of ornaments that the two of you own. To be honest, he's not sure where you keep all the decorations out of season. The working theory is an extra safe house somewhere, but after working this pet project in his spare time for two years now, he hasn't figured out which one. Regardless, he can think of no reason, nay, negative reasons as to why not all of your tree is decorated. He stares at it so long that he spaces out and loses track of time.

Come to think of it, has your tree always been like this? He's noticed that the bottom of your tree usually has less ornaments, but the no ornaments thing has to be new, right?

"Uh Tim?" He whirls around to face you where you hand him a plate of something that looks like pasta. He briefly looks at you and then back over to the tree. "You good there, bud?"

"I am losing my mind. Why is only half of your tree decorated?"

"Is that why you've been staring at the tree for over a half hour now?"

"It's bothering me. Please. I have to know."

Tim isn't sure why he was expecting it to be some earth shattering secret. He probably should not be disappointed that it wasn't because you were sending an assassin a top secret code using trees. He is only mildly ashamed to report that his mouth hung open with slight judgement and shock as you said, "Gus likes to knock the ornaments off the tree for sport, and while we're usually just glad he's getting exercise, last year he tried to eat the glass of a broken ornament so we're just playing it safe this year."

The cat seems to laugh at Tim's descent into insanity from behind the table's leg. The cat could be an assassin now that he thinks about it.

And now that he thinks about it harder, maybe he lost more blood than he was previously aware of.

[cillianhead]

Hello dear!!! I hope you're having a wonderful day!

Could you please write a piece about Cillian falling for a (younger!) poet? He starts frequenting her reading sessions and that's how they meet. The rest is up to you!

Thank you 🩵

Yes!! Love this, thank you <3

Enjoy my sweet nonny!

This is heavily inspired by the song All Too Well (10-minute version) (Taylor's Version) by Taylor Swift!!

Wind In My Hair, I Was There || Cillian Murphy x Reader

warnings: Smut, angst, age gap (reader is in her mid to late twenties, Cillian is in his forties.), swearing, Cillian is sort of an asshole in this in some parts, so that is a warning, infidelity (Cillian is married), general adult content ahead!!

Minors DNI! 18+

I'd also like to clarify this isn't really based on the real Cillian!! I know he's married and very happy, this is just fiction and fantasy!! Not meant to portray Cillian as a bad person!! I'd also like to clarify that the ready doesn't really know who Cillian is... or maybe like Cillian isn't that famous in this fic universe or something because there are a few plot points that may seem questionable... that's all. Anyway... enjoy!!

The autumn you spent with Cillian Murphy would be one you would always remember, not that you really had a choice in whether or not you could forget him.

Your apartment was small and cozy at the time, with a perfect view of the falling leaves outside. It was sitting across from a small park in New York City; the trees were red and orange, and it felt like the fall was putting on a show just for you. You felt fortunate and privileged to live in such a place.

You lived right up the road from a small cafe with a library. Every Thursday, you meet with like-minded writers and read your work aloud. It helped bring you out of your shell; you felt a sense of pride when you read your poetry out loud and had people praise you for being so brave and how well you wrote. Despite the fact you have been attending these little group meetings for almost two years now and you felt pretty comfortable amongst the people who were there, you felt like you could vomit your pounding heart right up every time you stood at that podium in front of the dozen or so people that attended. But even with the lump in your throat, you'd read with a shaky voice and tears ready to spill, you would receive the same round of applause every time and a pat on the back from some of the attendees you were closer with.

It was September 14th when you first saw him, but it wasn't the first time he had seen you, summer still lingering in the air but barely grasping on as Autumn began to take the reigns. You were standing at that cedar-wood podium, reading aloud as nervously as you always did. You had yet to notice him quietly slip in; you were too busy ensuring you were on the right line.

"-And something beautiful sprouted, something that I am not... something that I never will be." You looked up after reading the last line, biting your lip nervously and stepping back from the speaking podium. There he sat, in a sweater and the most hypnotizing eyes you had ever seen. Maybe love at first sight was real, you thought briefly. People clapped, but the room remained silent and still for you as you two made eye contact; he didn't clap; he just stared at you with a look that told you he was just as taken aback by you as you were by him.

He kept attending the sessions, but he never got up and read anything and never really interacted with anyone else; in fact, you'd see him get up and leave once you had finished reading your poetry. You wondered if anyone else noticed him the way you did, or maybe he was a figment of your imagination... a ghost.

It was October 19th when you first spoke with him. You dreamt about him day and night, and you two had never even spoken before every session; you'd wonder if he'd be there, and he always was. Sitting in the same seat, at the very back, going ultimately unnoticed by almost everyone but you.

"Excuse me, sir!" You yelled out, rushing to follow the man in the plaid shirt and beanie. "You dropped this!" It was a pair of keys you had clutched in your hand, the crisp autumn air meeting the apples of your cheeks.

He turned around, only a foot or two away from you, as he looked at you up and down, taking notice of his keys in your hand. "Oh gosh, thank you, love," He took the keys gently out of your hand, his fingers lingering on yours a little too long for a stranger, fingertips brushing together. "I swear I'd lose my head if it weren't screwed on." You took notice of his Irish accent. It made you even more curious to know him better. "Erm... thank you so much."

"It's no problem..." You trailed off. You're not sure what to say now. He gave you a stiff nod and started to turn around and keep walking, but you just couldn't let him leave. "Wait!" What do you say now?

"Yeah?" He turned around, tilting his head at you, blue eyes staring at you, waiting.

"I... I'm Y/N... by the way... I always see you here... but I never see you read anything..."

"Cillian," He chuckled. "Not interested in reading anything I've written, only here to listen." Cillian's response was short but straight to the point.

"You don't stick around for very long... you always leave after... I've finished reading my writing..."

"Well... your work is the only one I come to listen to. The rest of the lots' poems just go in one ear and out the other," He said honestly. "You've got a charm about you; I've never heard anything like what you write. It's unique and intelligent, cleverly crafted written pieces... It captures my attention, unlike the rest, which all seem like people trying to mimic someone else... you write from your heart... or your head... I can't decide which, really." He notices your silence, Cillian steps a bit closer to you. "Perhaps I've said too much." He mumbles. The proximity of where he stands is close enough that you can feel his warmth, a stark contrast to how cold it was outside. "You've surely captivated me, Y/N." He said your name like it was a sacred prayer.

You felt like your heart was in your throat, looking at him dumbfounded and unsure what to say. "That's... very flattering, I don't know what to say... thank you, Cillian..." You scratch behind your ear, swaying nervously on your feet. Cars honked, and people passed by as you two stood outside the little cafe, which was now closed since the reading sessions had ended. Cillian looked around awkwardly before sucking in a deep breath and exhaling, his breath visible out in the open air due to how cold it was.

"Would you like to go out for dinner with me?" Cillian looked at you, eyes reflecting the city lights. The moment felt like something from a movie or something you'd write a poem about. It felt like something that wasn't quite possible within these depths of reality. "I understand... if not... you're a young beautiful woman... probably got someone waitin' at home for y-" "N-No, I'd love to!" You interrupted him, with your heart racing. "I'd love to go to dinner with you... I don't have anyone at home... waiting for me..."

"Well, aren't I lucky... when are you free?" He gave you a smile, the first you'd ever seen from him. It made his usually sombre face light up; he grinned, making you feel all giddy.

"I'm free any time on the weekends... and on Tuesdays, I have work off, so... I would love to... see you this weekend, maybe?"

"Wonderful, Saturday evening, you and me?"

You nodded. You exchanged numbers and went on your merry way, walking down the streets of New York City with a smile on your face that was purely gleeful. People would give you looks, but you didn't care. You were excited about something for once. You obsessed over it for the next day and a half.

October 21st marked your very first date with Cillian Murphy. At six, you waited patiently outside your apartment building in the cold air. With a red scarf wrapped around your neck your nose runny from the autumnal weather, you looked around like a lost puppy.

"Y/N," Cillian's warm voice startled you from behind you. You jumped but swiftly turned around to look at him, a bashful smile on both of your faces. "You look lovely." You felt your heart pound at the sight of him.

"Thank you. You also look lovely yourself." You replied. He leaned in and kissed your cheek before taking your hand in his and guiding you down the street. The feeling of his hand in yours made the cold weather seem like summer. Your body lit in flames at the idea he wanted you close to him. And the feeling of his lips on your cheek remained there the whole evening, burning its mark into your skin.

The night went on, and you found yourself in a charming Italian restaurant. It was nothing too fancy, but it was nice and romantic for a first date, definitely nicer than any other places other guys have taken you. It was just the two of you sitting towards the back, in a small booth, eating your plates of pasta. You talked, and you talked, and you talked. He spoke about how he was an actor; you could see his eyes light up at his passion for his work. He told you he was in New York for work and was filming a movie for something he couldn't legally disclose yet. Your chemistry was magnetic, and the conversation would weave in and out of different subjects. You talked about anything and everything, things like masculinity, The Beatles, the incident that happened on your 21st Birthday, batman, and everything else there was to discuss. You felt like you had known him forever. He said the same thing and referred to you two as twin flames. When you were about to leave, his phone began to ring.

"Fuckin' hell, what is it now?" He groaned. "Probably just a wrong number... or somethin'... hold on, love." He stepped outside, and you watched him on the phone. Cillian looked angry and frustrated, like he was arguing over the phone with someone. Your heart, which once rode the waves of love and joy, now sank beneath them into the deep dark depths of navy blue and dismay, watching him grow angrier and angrier and yell over the phone. He was seeing red.

When he waved for you to come out, you approached him cautiously. He huffed, puffed, and fidgeted his hands in his pockets, clearly restless. "Who was that? Are you okay?" "It was no one," He replied shortly and coldly. "I'm fine, let's go." You didn't say a word after that. The tension was thicker than the cold. You were afraid of saying anything to further upset him. So silence was the answer as he walked you home. You felt disappointed that this was how the night was ending. You wondered who it was and what they had said that had upset him so badly. The familiar apartment building you called home came closer and closer within sight, the disappointment weighing you down like water in your shoes. The disappointment tracing every inch of your freezing skin.

You stood in your elevator with him. He promised to walk you back to your unit at least, and he kept that promise. "Would you like to come in... Cillian?" You asked. You pulled out your house key and unlocked the door, looking at him hopefully.

"No, I'd better not." He remained cold and rigid with you. He couldn't even bring himself to give you a smile. You felt you'd never see him again; maybe he didn't like you the way you thought he did. Maybe he found you obnoxious and dumb. Perhaps the phone call was from another woman he realized was better than you. Maybe you simply needed to be better for him. "Goodnight, Y/N." He turned and walked away; you couldn't speak as tears welled in your eyes. Sorrow built up within you like some sort of horrible game of Jenga; one wrong move and you'd come crashing down and falling apart all over the place.

"Goodnight..." You whispered, but by then, he'd already stepped into the elevator, and the doors shut, taking him away from you. You cried yourself to sleep that night, both out of self-pity and disappointment.

When you awoke, it was to the sounds of soft raps on your front door. It was eight in the morning. Padding gently down the hallway, floorboards creaking, sleep still in your eyes, and your face puffy from the tears that leaked from your tear ducts the previous night, you opened the door, expecting it to be a neighbor asking you if they could borrow some sugar or something along those lines.

"Good morning," Cillian stood at your door, this time with a big apologetic smile, a complete change from last night's cold demeanour. He held a pink, yellow, and white bouquet and a small paper bag in his other hand. "I came here to apologize... for how I treated you last night." "Come in." You ushered him in.

He noted your knick-knacks, the photos on your walls, and your old, worn-out furniture. The way you decorated the place stood out to him, but the look on your face stood out to him the most. Sad, tired eyes, puffy and glazed over, you looked at him expectantly. "I'm so sorry." He whispered to you.

"What for?" You asked as you sat in your favorite olive green armchair. It was velvet and soft, and you'd spend most of your time writing, reading, or drinking your morning cup of coffee.

"For treating you like I didn't care," He sighed. He sat on the leather sofa beside you, gently placing the flowers on your glass coffee table and the paper bag smelling of freshly baked goods. "I don't want to discuss exactly who it was or what happened on that phone call... but I... I shouldn't have shut you out just because I was upset... that was... wrong of me, and I'm sorry." Your anger and sadness dissipated the way a fire dissipates when it's being smothered: immediately. His big blue eyes were the blanket that hushed that flame out, striking him as immediately forgiven.

"I understand, Cillian..." You mumbled, pulling your knees up to your chest. "Things happen... it's alright... I...." You wanted to confront him and tell him how insignificant and stupid he made you feel, but you swallowed it back and gave him a small smile. You remained the people pleaser you always have been. You spared his feelings over your own. "I understand." You repeated.

"I thought... I would make it up to you," He pushed the small paper bag over to you. "We could spend the day together... if you don't already have plans."

The paper bag contained a chocolate eclair. You had written a poem that mentioned eating a chocolate eclair while in a made-up love affair. The rhyming was cheesy, but it was one of Cillian's favorite poems of yours. It was the first one he had heard from you. Of course, you didn't realize the irony of it at the time. You just grinned and accepted it happily. You didn't know that you were engaging in a relationship with a man who was already married. So you took a bite of the eclair, letting him into your fragile heart, and entered this sad and tragic love affair.

So you spent the whole day together. You walked around New York City, holding hands and laughing your heads off. It felt romantic and intimate, and you got to know each other even deeper than you did before. You kissed under a stop sign and shared sweet nothings. The clouds rolled over, and the sky opened up. The rain watered you down like a pair of leaves in a pot plant, and you both ran through Central Park, trying to find the nearest shelter until you came across a large oak tree. It was something out of a movie, sitting together, soaking wet, staring at each other as lightning strikes in the distance. The wind was in your hair, and his lips were on yours.

You spent pretty much every day together after that. You made love in every room of your apartment, cherishing each other's bodies. Cillian would sit in that cafe, and he would clap after your readings and then reward you with a kiss when you got back down to him. You wrote poetry about him, and he would write some for you. It was a beautiful, quiet, little harmonious relationship you had going on. You found yourself falling in love. You thought he was, too, though you never said it out loud.

He even met your dad. They got along quite well. Your dad didn't seem to mind that Cillian was only a few years younger than him (and much older than you). Your dad just wanted to see you happy and safe. In fact, your dad told you he had never seen you more content. Cillian made your dad laugh, they got along like old friends. Seeing them bonding and getting along made you incredibly happy and excited.

On November 16th, at noon, you got ready to go to where he was staying, wrapping that red scarf around your neck again and stepping out into the living room where Cillian waited for you with eyes full of affection. You had packed a small bag since Cillian told you he was staying at his sister's house in upstate New York. She was away at the moment. "Most beautiful girl I've ever seen." He hummed jollily. You wrapped your arm through his and went down to the lobby.

His car had that new car smell, clearly a rental. "No matter how often I've stayed in America, I never get used to driving on the wrong side of the road." Cillian chuckled, exiting his parking spot and beginning the long drive to his sister's house.

The drive was beautiful. Driving through the city and slowly entering into suburban areas, red and brown trees lining the streets, Halloween decorations on display, and music playing through the radio, you both sang along to the words happily. The drive was surreal and peaceful. You drove down a long country road, and the tall trees created a tunnel above you. Only small slits of the grey sky could be seen through the scarlet leaves.

"We're here, Y/N," Cillian smiled at you, stepping out of the car and walking off without you. You hurriedly got out of the car with your things. "Oh, lock the car for me, the button doesn't work... please, love." He tossed you the car keys, not looking where he was throwing them, and they landed in the dirt before you. You ignored how it made you feel (stupid, insignificant, small), picking up the dirty keys and locking the car manually before rushing over to where he was unlocking the door.

The house was nice and quiet and far from the rest of civilization. It felt like home somehow. It is decorated nicely with photos of his sister and her husband, even some with Cillian when he was younger. It was getting dark by now, and you set your belongings down in the guest bedroom where Cillian was staying. You never asked when he was going back to Ireland. You didn't wanna know. You wanted to appreciate your time together instead of counting down the days.

Cillian cooked you dinner and shared a long, loving kiss to say thanks. You sat cuddled up on the couch together afterwards, your crimson scarf hanging over the stair railing as you rested your head lovingly on his shoulder. An old Western movie played in the background, but you were too busy holding each other and whispering sweet things.

"Cillian..." You whispered, pressing soft kisses along his stubbly jaw. "I'm so happy you brought me here... this feels so special." "I'm so happy to have you here, Y/N." He whispered back. Cillian pulled you into his lap. "This is special, just you and me... here... I'm going to make you my own." You wanted to tell him, 'I'm already yours, Cillian; my heart and soul are yours', but you remained silent, smiling dopily at him.

And with those charming words, you kissed him. Flashes of red played through your mind, fireworks sounding off in your head as your lips danced together. His hands cradled your head as you made out nice and slow. Both in your pyjamas now, warming each other up, hands running up and down his back. Cillian's hands wandered down your back until they rested on the tops of your hips, his thumb fiddling with the waistband of your sweatpants.

"Take them off." You hummed, raising your hips slightly off of his, and he obeyed, sliding your pants off until you were only in your panties. Cillian observed how you sat back down on his lap, the lace scrunched up, showing off the curve of your ass.

"I'm going to ravish you." He growled, eyeing you up and down. The timbre of his voice caused your thighs to tightly squeeze together. He pressed you down onto the couch, slipping his pants down until he was just in his briefs. He slipped your shirt over your tits, breasts bouncing out of their containment and straight into his mouth. He sucked happily on your nipples until you were a panting mess, begging for more. "Let me feel you, sweetheart."

"Please..." You exasperated. "Please... Cillian."

Two nimble fingers slipped under your lace underwear, straight down to where your arousal pooled. "So wet f'me, always so wet, aren't you, baby?" He groaned, fingers teasing your slit before sliding back up to rub circles on your clit.

"You know what you do to me..." You breathed out, biting your cherry red lips and closing your eyes, embracing the pleasure. "Always so wet for you, Cillian..."

The way Cillian cradled you in his strong arms as his fingers caressed you to your peak was the most intimate thing you had ever experienced. His eyes watched your face contort with pleasure, mouth open and spilling sounds of satisfaction as you came on his fingers.

"That's it, baby... doing so good," He whispered, kissing your cheek. "So beautiful."

You lolled your head to the side, panting and looking at him with a dazed grin. "Please fuck me."

Cillian laughed at your words. "Such a dirty mouth!" He teased as he tugged down his pants. "Gonna fuck you nice and slow, gonna show you how much you mean to me, love."

Then, in the dim light of the TV and the moon shining through the window, you made love like it was your last night on Earth. Hands ran up and down each other's bodies, trying to savor every final touch. Lips captured together, your bodies working as one, the love was there, glimmering in the light. No words could explain how you felt then; nothing else existed to you, just him and his hands all over your body. You and him for the rest of eternity, at least; that's how it felt in your heart.

You held each other tight in bed, clinging on for dear life. You listened to his heart slow as he slept and the way he breathed. You wondered if he dreamt about you the way you dreamt of him. Eventually, you fell asleep at midnight after watching his pretty face sleeping.

At three in the morning, you wake to an empty bed. Sitting up with a sweat, where did Cillian go? You slip out from under the covers, wincing at the room's cold air that meets your bare legs. You wore one of Cillian's button-ups, only the middle button holding it together as you slowly creep out of the room, listening to the sound of quiet music from the kitchen.

"Cillian?" You called out, cautious and slightly afraid at how dark the house is. It was a lot quieter than you were used to. You were a city girl, unfamiliar with the countryside silence.

"Y/N?" You heard, which relieved your paranoid mind.

Down the stairs, Cillian stood in the fridge's light, soft music playing through a small radio on the kitchen counter. "What're you doing up, Cillian?" You worriedly walked over to him, arms reached out as he turned to look at you, only in his sleep shorts.

"Just needed a midnight snack. I'm alright, my love," He smiled sleepily, with a sheepish look since he wasn't fully awake yet. "C'mere... dance with me."

"Oh... Cillian..." You giggled, walking over to him, letting him wrap you up in his strong arms and sway you gently. "This is nice."

"Mmmm..." Cillian hummed into the soft skin of your neck.

The refrigerator remained open, the cool-tinted light painting you both as you swayed side to side. You were half asleep, and the rocking motion didn't help your drowsiness. You felt as though this was some strange dream.

"Are you real?" You whispered.

"What do you mean?" Cillian purred back.

"I just feel like I made you up." You muttered, pulling your head back to look up at him with big, sleepy eyes.

Cillian looked back at you with the same look. Your wide-eyed gaze and his sweet blue eyes looked like something out of a romance film or something you'd see in a painting. The love you shared was unanimous... or at least you thought so. A kiss and then another kiss and then another turned into a sleepy yet heated make-out.

"Gonna take you right here," He grumbled into your mouth. "My midnight snack."

You giggled at his words as he pressed you against the kitchen island countertop. Kissing so hard it felt like your lips could bruise. He ripped off your shirt and pulled it off you like it was nothing. Cillian growled at the sight of you, hands groping at your tits and lips trailing down your neck. You whimpered, letting your head hang back as he ground his stiff cock into your clothed cunt.

"Fuck!" You whined, wrapping your legs around his hips even further. You ignored the feeling of the marble countertop digging into your lower back; the feeling of his cock was too delicious, too distracting, to really let it ruin the mood. "Cillian, please, baby, just put it in me... need you so bad."

He gave you a grunt and slipped off his shorts before pulling your panties to the side. Cillian acted like a feral dog as he pushed his cock into you and began fucking you on his sister's countertops at three in the morning. The act was sinful.

"Oh god! Yes!" You wailed. You could be as loud as you wanted to out here. No one else was around to hear, and you knew how Cillian liked to hear you scream for him. His hips pistoned in and out of you, cock fitting perfectly inside you. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head. He had never been so rough with you before, but you were enjoying it.

"Best pussy I've ever had," Cillian groaned, sweat dripping from his forehead. "Fuck... so good... feels so good."

His fingernails dug into your hips, grunting into the dips of your neck and shoulders as he chased his own high. You ran your hands up and down his back, leaving scratch marks across his shoulder blades. The fridge remained open, but right now, you didn't care. All you could think about was how good he was fucking you. Drool spilled down your chin, mind blank, and legs went limp from the euphoria taking over.

"Yeah, is that it?" Cillian muttered, voice gritty and low as his hips sputtered. "You gonna cum for me, baby? Gonna cum on my cock?"

"Yes... oh fuck! Yes!" You moaned. "Gonna cum for you, Cillian..."

"Love the way my name sounds comin' from your mouth," He whispered, letting out a mouth-watering whine straight into your ear. Your pussy clenched around him tighter as Cillian, usually a quiet and stoic man, came undone and let out the most delectable pornographic-sounding moans. "Y'make it sound so dirty..."

"Please cum in me..." You whimpered. "Please... need it so bad."

"Really?" Cillian panted and looked at you incredulously. He had never had the pleasure of getting to cum in you yet. "You sure?"

"Yes!" You threw your head back, panting like a dog. "Please, Cillian! Please... give it to me." "Fuck... alright... gonna fill you up, love."

You pressed your face into the curve of his neck, mewling as you came around him and the feeling of his hot cum beginning to spill into you. "I love you." You gasped out, squeezing your eyes shut as you came around him. You meant it; you did love him. You had never loved anyone the way you had loved him. You could see yourself with him for the rest of your life, having his babies, getting married..., and dying together. He just groaned loudly as he came inside you, not saying a word to your confession. Maybe it wasn't the right time, or he would wait until he was done to say something.

"Fuckin' hell..." Cillian whispered as he slipped his softening length out of you and pulled his shorts back up. "Look at that..." He mumbled with amazement, getting down on his knees in front of your quivering and cum-filled pussy.

"Cillian, I-"

"Shhh..." He hushed before pressing a loving nip to your inner thigh, and then he unhinged his jaw and attached his watering mouth to your cunt. You forgot everything you were about to say at the feeling of his tongue licking you up and sucking on your swollen clit. You came again quickly due to how sensitive you were, and Cillian sucked up your gushing juices and his cum that still dripped out of you. Standing up, he grabbed you by the chin and kissed you, spitting the mixture into your mouth, tongues swirling together. You moaned at the salty taste and the dirty act. "Such a good girl..." Cillian hummed. "Swallow it, baby. Show me how good you can be for me."

He watched you gulp it down before leaning in and rewarding you with a wet and messy kiss, teeth grabbing your bottom lip before pulling away. "Cillian..." You whispered, out of breath and incredibly flustered. "That... was so good... I love-" "Let's go to sleep," He interrupted abruptly, crouching and picking up your discarded clothing. "It's real late, sweetheart."

"Oh..." You mumbled, heart breaking a little. "Okay... let's go then." You didn't get a peep of sleep that night. While Cillian snored beside you, one heavy arm draped across you and his hot breath fanning the back of your neck, you stared at the ticking clock with tears slipping down your face. Why didn't he say it back? Why didn't he at least say something? You knew he heard you. The dread built up within you that night, and daylight didn't seem to get any closer.

At 7:47 AM, you were pulled out of a state between consciousness and sleep by Cillian's phone ringing. "Fuck..." Cillian said groggily, reaching over with a heavy hand to pick up his phone. "Who is it?" You moaned out of dissatisfaction from being pulled out of your slumber.

"It's my sister..." He groaned before answering the call. "Hello?.... Yeah, it's alright... no, I don't have anything on today... you're comin' home today?... I thought you'd be home Monday..." You sat up at this, heart racing. Were you going to have to meet his sister today? You were nervous but also excited. Cillian looked over at you with a horrified look in his eye. "Yeah... alright... see you then... bye."

"...Is everything okay?" You asked cautiously.

"Yeah, I guess we're not sleepin' in..." He grunted as he got up and walked towards the en suite. "Gather yer' things, we're going back to the city." "What? Why?"

"I just don't want my sister to know I had a girl over." That was the last thing he said before shutting the bathroom door, clearly in a bad mood. Your heart sank at his words as if it wasn't already hurting. So you got up, fighting back the tears and gathered your things, shoving them back into your bag as you let out a choked sob.

Half an hour passed, Cillian was still in the shower, and you sat at the bottom of the stairs, feeling sorry for yourself. Your bag sat beside you, and the floorboards creaking behind you caught your attention. You turned and looked up at Cillian, dressed in a lovely blue turtle neck, dress pants, and a grim look on his face.

Begrudgingly, you followed him outside and into the car, then began the drive back in silence.

"You wanna grab some lunch wit' me today?" Cillian asked after about twenty minutes of silence.

"No." You said dryly.

"What? You got plans or somethin'?" Cillian asked with a chuckle. The question felt condescending and rude.

"Because what you said to me earlier really fucking hurt me." You hissed, turning to look at Cillian to see him already looking at you.

"What the fuck are you on about?" He barked back, putting his eyes back on the road and giving you that dry, condescending laugh again.

"You said you didn't want your sister to know about me.... that you didn't want your sister to know about you having a girl over."

"Yeah, and?" Cillian quipped, clearly flustered.

"Is that all I am to you?" You whimpered, trying to keep your composure, trying to seem strong. "Just a girl?" "'Course not, Y/N." He said in a hushed tone.

"Then what the fuck are we?" You raised your voice, a tear slipping down your cheek. "Why can't your sister know about me? About us?"

"B-Because..." He faltered before falling completely silent.

"Why, Cillian?" You cried. "You've met my friends... you've even met my father... for fuck's sake... why can't... why can't I meet your sister and her husband?"

He kept his silence. You could see the tears in his eyes that refused to spill. Those tears were just as stubborn as he was.

"Answer me!" You screamed, tears pouring down your exasperated face. "Say something!"

"Because I'm married!" He screeched back.

That shut you up. You leaned back and just stared at your feet. You felt like you had been winded, like all the air in the car had been sucked out, and you were choking on carbon monoxide. He was married. You sobbed as the shock set in, and Cillian pulled the car over to the side of the road, unbuckling his seatbelt. You fell into a state of despair; your chest felt incredibly heavy, and your brain played a loop of hopeless thoughts.

"Y/N," Cillian said firmly, reaching out and placing a soft hand on your shoulder, which you quickly smacked away. "Y/N... look at me..."

You looked over at him, and you could see him wince at the look on your face. He'd never seen you in so much pain. Never had he seen you look at him so coldly. "What?" You spat. "What is it, Cillian?"

"I... I'm sorry."

"Fuck you," You cried harder, covering your face with your hands and leaning on the dashboard. You cried so hard it felt like you could vomit. You felt like the salty tears were slowly dissolving you away. "Fuck you!" You sobbed.

"Y/N... I am sorry."

"If you were sorry..." You hiccuped, looking back at him with red eyes and tears endlessly slipping down your flustered face. "You never would have... you never would have done this to me... you never would have gotten involved with me!"

Cillian sighed and shook his head, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I... I stumbled into that cafe one night, and I saw you and... I heard the way you spoke... and the words you said... and I couldn't believe you were real... and things haven't been amazing in my marriage lately... and I haven't seen my wife in months..." He was rationalizing with you... with the infidelity. "I... I've never met anyone like you."

"You lied to me."

"How was I supposed to tell you I was married, Y/N?" Cillian snapped at you, looking at you with fangs barred. "What was I supposed to say to you?"

"You didn't have to say anything," You sobbed. "You shouldn't have invited me to dinner... you shouldn't have even... you shouldn't have ever shown up to those reading sessions... you just shouldn't have gotten involved with me in the first place!"

"My wife doesn't have to know."

"That... doesn't make it any better," You bawled. "You have a woman... back in Ireland fucking waiting for you, and I'm here... thinking I'm falling in love with you while you fuck me over!"

"I'm sorry..." He whispered, defeated. "I'm so sorry."

Silence.

"Do you feel anything for me?" "Of course, I feel something for you, Y/N... you're-"

"Do you love me?" You corrected. "Could you say you truly and honestly love me?" "I..." He looked away at that. You scoffed and shook your head, wiping tears off your face. "I don't... I don't know... I just..." "What the fuck was going to happen between us?" You cried. "How was this going to end? This was always going to end tragically... wasn't it? Wasn't it, Cillian?"

"I didn't... I never thought about how I was going to end things... I go back home in December... filming ends in two weeks... I was going to spend the last few weeks with you..." You scoffed again loudly. "Aww... how sweet! Spend your last few days with your mistress, who's twenty years younger than you... and then fuck off back to Ireland and go be with your loving wife and your... oh god... you have kids, don't you?" "Yes... I..." "Fuck!" You screamed. It wasn't like you to be so angry. You weren't usually this loud. But the pain was just too much, and you needed some way to get the pent-up rage within you out. "So this is it... this is going to be the last time I'll ever see you."

"It doesn't have to be that way, love," Cillian whispered, placing a hand on your arm; this time, you let it stay there. The shame of having him touch you made you sob again. "We could... spend this last month together... we could... cherish what we have while we still have it." "What we have is gone," You replied. "It's gone! It's dead! You killed it! You can't even say you love me."

"What good would that do?" He pushed you further over the edge. "I mean... I could lie and say I love you... I could feed into your fantasies that this... this could last... but it's not..."

Those words 'I could lie and say I love you' echoed over and over again in your head.

"I know that!" You yelped.

There was a pause. The silence hanging heavy in the autumn air and your teardrops falling into your lap where your hands lay curled up. Cillian's thumb rubbed circles into your arm, and you only cried harder.

"Maybe... if we had been closer in age... maybe we would have... maybe we would have been fine." Cillian broke the silence with that banger. The words ringing in your ears, you didn't reply. You didn't utter a word. Those words made you want to die. A minute or two went past. You just ignored him, ignored the way his hand lit your skin on fire, and ignored the way his eyes bore holes into the side of your skull. "Y/N?"

"Take me home." You muttered.

"Y/N..." He whispered.

"Take me the fuck home, Cillian."

And so he did. He pulled out of the parking spot, and you spent the next hour in an agonizing silence. At some point, the tears stopped falling, and the stupidity sunk in. You felt stupid and ashamed. You had told everyone about him, how happy you were, how handsome and funny... and how sweet he was. And now you sat in the car of a man you felt like you didn't know.

"We're here, Y/N."

"Goodbye, Cillian."

"Please don't do this." He begged, you looked at him, and he had tears in his eyes. "Please." You sucked in a breath, his eyes pleaded with you, and you wanted to stay so badly... you wanted to give him one last kiss and say, 'I understand,' but you knew you couldn't. You were too heartbroken. It was going to end one way or another... and it might as well end now.

"Goodbye, Cillian." You said once more before stepping out of the car and walking off into your building. Never looking back to see the broken man in the car, crying just as hard as you did, loving you just as hard as you did him.

Three months went by. There wasn't a day where you didn't think of him. Not a day passed when you yearned for his touch and to feel him hold you again. You thought about dancing with him in the refrigerator light. You thought about his hand on your thigh as you drove upstate. The memories all too real and... all too there.

And tonight, as snow fell outside, you stood at that same podium, reading the poem you wrote for him. You could barely utter the words, your heart catching in your throat as you looked around the room and spoke the words written on the page.

"Just between us, I remember it all too well." You finished, and the room clapped, but the applause didn't matter. Your heart still felt just as broken as it did the day you left him.

And as you descended from the podium, people would pat you on the back and murmur praises for how well-written your poem was and how well-spoken you were. But your eyes were focused on the hazy figure outside the cafe, the silhouette all too familiar.

And it was wearing that same red scarf you had left behind.

And you knew it was him, watching you from afar. Loving you from a distance... remembering it the same way as you did...

All too well.

-

hope you enjoyed!! Sorry this was all over the place a bit but I really wanted to write something angsty... anyway... there are lots of little easter eggs and references to the song, did you pick them all up? Okay byeee!

[wonusite]

(Not) A Gentleman

❝ Your boyfriend is the sweetest man alive—a perfect gentleman. However, you’re determined to show him that he doesn’t always have to be a gentleman. ❞

pairing: lee seokmin x female reader

genre: established relationship au, smut

word count: 4.2k

warnings: seokmin literally invented the word simp, big dick!seokmin, daddy kink, slight breeding kink, nipple play, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex, riding, multiple creampies, begging, overstimulation

a/n: this is for brookie and tulip nonny! thank you for making this happen! love you both <3 based on this and this. minors dni!

“Okay, you have to be lying.”

You purse your lips, swiveling the wine glass in your hand to avoid eye contact. “I’m not.”

Embarrassing as it was to admit (even to your best friends), it was true that you hadn’t had sex since you and your boyfriend officially got together. Technically it hadn’t even been that long. It wasn’t unheard of for people to take things slow. But even you had to admit Seokmin had the pace of a snail.

Seungkwan looked completely appalled while Jihoon and Jeonghan could only gawk at you like you’d grown another head. You awkwardly clear your throat and take a large drink of the wine you’d been nursing all night. It’s not like you meant to say anything, but when the conversation of sex lives came up, you were left with no choice.

“Seokmin is literally obsessed with you.” Jeonghan scoffed. “How can you two not have done anything yet?”

“Maybe he’s shy.” Jihoon says with a gentle shrug of his shoulders, eyebrows still twitching with confusion.

“The same guy who told Vernon he was engaged to Y/N so he would stop flirting with her is shy?”

You all laugh at the memory. It happened only a little over a year ago. Seokmin still hadn’t asked you out at the time, but there was something there. He had invited you a party where you met a lot of his friends from back home. The night had gone smoothly until he saw that his old friend was getting a little too comfortable with you.

“What if…” you swallow thickly, the wine forcing out your biggest insecurities. “What if he’s not attracted to me?”

For a moment it’s silent, then your friends let out collective cackles that have you scowling at them. You allow them to act like the drunken fools before demanding to know why they found your insecurities so funny.

“It’s just that—” Seungkwan cuts himself off with an amused wheeze. “There’s no way Seokmin doesn’t find you attractive.”

“He gets hard any time you wear something that shows off your legs.” Jeonghan pointed out as he went to grab the wine bottle on your coffee table.

“It’s true. I’ve seen it.” Jihoon confirms with a drunken giggle.

You furrow your eyebrows. If attraction wasn’t the problem, then what was?

“Okay, so how do I get him to fuck me?”

Jeonghan chokes on his wine while Jihoon lets out another round of giggles. Seungkwan is the only one calm enough to answer you. “I’ll help you, but he can’t know I told you what I’m about to say.”

After making you swear on everything you hold dear, your friend finally tells you the secret to making the gentleman you call your boyfriend snap.

“So, here’s what you do…”

You’ve been out on dates with Seokmin plenty of times, but somehow you still got butterflies as if it was the first time. Everything about dating him feels like new and exciting. You even spend what seems like hours picking out the perfect outfit and getting ready to look just right for him despite knowing that your lovely boyfriend doesn’t care what you wear. He’s just happy to be with you.

The overnight bag you packed rests on your bed, and just the sight of it leaves you feeling giddy. Again, it’s not the first time you’re spending the weekend with Seokmin, but you still feel a jittery excitement whenever you do. It’s packed neatly with all the things you needed. Including some more enticing pajamas.

Part of the reason you also feel these unwavering butterflies is because tonight you were determined to fuck your hot boyfriend. Your lovely friends had helped plan it all out, and they were adamant that you had to keep your cool. It was harder than expected because all you wanted was to get your hands on Seokmin’s cock.

A knock on the door pulls you out of your thoughts. You swallow nervously, hands smoothing over your outfit. The new lingerie set you bought is snugly resting against your skin underneath the pretty dress you chose. Psyching yourself up, you grabbed your things and headed to the door.

Don’t make it obvious like you always do!

Seungkwan's words kept echoing in your head, and you have to force yourself to stay calm as you opened the door. You suck in a breath when you saw Seokmin dressed in a white button down shirt that accentuated how big his upper body was and black fitted dress pants. In that moment, all you could think about was how insanely lucky you are.

“Wow.”

You blink back into reality only for your heart to lurch when you see Seokmin staring at you like you’re some goddess. Which, to be fair, to him you pretty much are.

“You look so gorgeous. I can’t believe you’re all mine.” Seokmin’s voice is so full of awe and affection that your knees nearly buckle.

Seokmin grins when you bashfully touch the underside of your jaw. “I should be saying that to you. You’re so handsome that I just—” Just want to give you the suck of your life. “Just can’t handle it.”

His pretty laugh fills your ears as you suddenly feel your duffel bag being taken out of your hands. You furrow your eyebrows as you boyfriend slings it over his shoulder. “Babe, I can carry my own things—”

“I know, but as long as I’m around you won’t have to.”

You can’t really argue with his sweet words, especially since you know you won’t win. Seokmin has a strange way of getting you to back down with his placating actions, and you still can’t understand how you give in so easily every time.

Seokmin smiles fondly when he sees a pout forming on your face. “If you really want to hold something then here.”

It’s so stupid and corny how he holds out his beefy arm at you, but you’re so disgustingly endeared by him that you grab his arm anyway and follow him out the door. His triumphant grin makes a smile of your own form on his face.

When you get outside, Seokmin stops you before you can open the passenger door. He pulls the door open before unexpectedly lifting you and placing you on the seat. You feel your face burning as he gentle sets you down as if you’re made of glass.

“There’s a puddle.” He explains as he presses a sweet kiss to your temple. “I know those are your favorite heels.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to respond as he closes the door and gets into the driver side. Seokmin places your bag in the backseat before turning on the car and driving off. Your friends had insisted that you act calmly, but they didn’t know what it was like to date the sweetest guy alive. Every one of his sincere actions made you feel like your heart was going to burst.

This feeling hadn’t gone away with time, and you’re pretty sure it never would.

You feel like you’re floating on air by the time you get back to Seokmin’s apartment. He always takes you to these amazing restaurants that you always end up loving and never lets you pay. Every time you two go out you feel like you’re being swept off your feet all over again. It’s a feeling that hasn’t dulled over the course of these past few months, and you hope it never does.

The nerves you felt from the beginning of the night resurface when you enter his bedroom with your bag. You have a plan set out, but now that it’s time to execute it, you feel more nervous than ever.

You only become distracted when you go into the bathroom and see that Seokmin has a whole array of new products on the counter. “Baby?” You call as you inspect the very familiar skin care bottles. “When did you get these?”

Seokmin walks into the bathroom, a subtle blush suffusing his face when he sees what you’re holding. “I… I know you sometimes forget to bring all your products when you stay over or when we don’t plan for you to stay, and I just– I wanted you to always have them.”

The shy look he has on his face is so adorable, and at that moment you think that you won’t ever love anyone as much as you love Lee Seokmin.

You practically pounce on him, lips messily connecting with his own. Seokmin is quick to melt into you as you domineeringly back him onto the bed. He falls on his back with you on top of him. The movements of your lips become rougher and needier by the second. It’s dizzying the way you kiss him like you’re addicted to his taste. Like you won’t ever be able to get enough of him.

The heat in his gut expands up in his chest and spreads through his whole body the second you start to grind down on his hardening cock. As much as it pains him, he has to pull away. “Babe—”

You recognize his tone. It’s the one he gets when he’s about to say something particularly disappointing. But you won’t let him do what he’s been doing since you two became a couple. You’re going to get him to fuck you no matter what.

“I want you.” You say as boldly and confidently as you can. “So stop being a gentleman and fuck me already.”

Seokmin is looking up at you with wide eyes. You can see and feel how much he wants you, but you can also see that he’s hesitating. So you do something you really hope works because if not then it’s going to be super fucking embarrassing.

“Please, daddy?”

Your boyfriend freezes, eyes becoming dark and filled with an unmistakable heat that makes you clench. The way his cock seems to grow even bigger under you makes you want to buy your idiot friends a gift in thanks because in the next second you’re being flipped over on your back with Seokmin’s tongue back in your mouth, his hard cock grinding against you.

He pulls back, swiftly taking his shirt off before he pauses to look at you. Your boyfriend’s eyes seem to shine as he drinks the sight of you laid out for him so prettily. Seokmin licks his lips as his hands gently caress your upper thighs. “You’re so beautiful.”

You suck in a breath because his voice is soft and sincere. The way he’s staring at you makes your heart warm with affection. You’ve never felt so exposed, but you’ve also never felt so desired and wanted. Instead of feeling insecure you feel safe—loved.

“Take my dress off.”

And he does, slowly and carefully. Seokmin feels his heart jump up into his throat when he sees what you’re wearing beneath your dress. The lingerie makes you look like his very own present, and Seokmin is pretty sure he’s on the verge of coming in his pants.

“Angel…” He breathes, pressing his clothed cock against your core.

You bite your lip, feeling like you’re about to burst. “I guess you like it?”

“Fucking love it.” Seokmin groans as he starts to trail his lips down your body, kissing and licking at your exposed skin.

The way he’s taking his time to fully get you naked is making your mind turn into mush. You feel so hot and turned on that you’re pretty sure all Seokmin would need to do is grind down on your cunt and you would come.

Vaguely, you feel him tugging off the lacy bra you were wearing. He wastes no time in swooping down to capture one of the hardened buds in his mouth. You moan his name as he licks and sucks your nipple while his giant hand pinches and pulls the other one. His teeth slightly graze your hardened peak before he soothes over it with his flattened tongue.

Your head is swimming and all you can do is buck you hips up to his covered dick. “Fuck!”

Again, that carnal look appears in his eyes. He gently nips at your nipple before he continues to kiss his way down your body. It feels like forever until he gets to the part where you need him the most. Your aching cunt feels like it’s pulsing with need as Seokmin gently grips the edges of your underwear and slides it off.

Your hot pussy is finally exposed to the cool air, and for a moment Seokmin only stares at you with his smoldering eyes. You lick your lips and spread your legs wider. “Don’t you want a taste, daddy?”

Seokmin groans and places a gentle kiss on your clit before his tongue is splitting through your wet folds, lapping up all your sweet juices. Your boyfriend lets out another deep groan as he indulges himself in your taste, the reverberations sending a burning heat up your body.

“I knew you’d taste good.” Seokmin moans against your cunt, long nose bumping against your clit. “So sweet.”

Another gush of your slick coats his chin and mouth. You feel your eyes roll to the back as his tongue circles your clit, sucking it into his mouth to taste more of you. Seokmin is lapping at you with an ardent hunger that has you digging your hands into his hair. You arch up into his mouth as you let out a loud moan. “Daddy!”

The way you’re tugging his locks paired with the sweet sounds falling from your lips have him grinding his aching cock down on to the mattress. Seokmin fucks his tongue into you until you’re screaming his name and coating his mouth with your orgasm.

You’re breathing heavily by the time Seokmin sits up to look at you. The sight of you completely fucked out and sated is something he’ll engrave in his mind forever. At that moment he knows he’ll never get enough of how you look post orgasm.

Seokmin runs his thumb along his wet lips and sucks the remnants of your essence off his finger. Your cunt clenches at the erotic sight. He’s so hot and you can’t wait until he’s inside of you.

Admittedly, you’ve known Seokmin has a big dick. You’ve seen the imprint of it when he wears sweatpants, not to mention that you can even feel it’s massive size through his pants. Still, nothing can prepare you for how big it actually is when he takes the remainder of his clothes off. Your jaw drops, mouth instinctually salivating at the sight of his literal monster cock.

“Will it fit?” You can’t help but ask because right now as you’re looking at it, fitting all of him seems like it’s next to impossible.

Seokmin laughs as he aims his fat tip at your entrance. “Don’t worry, angel. I’ll be gentle.”

Is it bad that part of you doesn’t want him to be?

You let out a soft mewl of pleasure when the fat head of his cock catches along your puffy lips, gently nudging against your swollen clit. His slit is oozing with beads of his arousal, evidence of just how much he wants you. Seokmin’s long fingers circle your clit, teeth digging into his bottom lip as he watches you writhe in pleasure.

Slowly, Seokmin eases into you, groaning lowly when your cunt clamps down on him like it doesn’t ever want to let go.

By the time he fits half of his cock inside you, you’re already a moaning mess. The stretch stings a little, but ultimately feels so fucking good. You feel entirely full despite him not bottoming out yet. All at the same time, your heart is fluttering as much as your cunt is with the sweet encouragements Seokmin is whispering into your ear as he keeps forcing his cock into your pussy.

Impatient as ever, you wrap your legs around your boyfriend’s waist to shove the rest of him inside you. The loud groan he lets out mixes with your scream of pleasure. Seokmin’s cock throbs where you two are connected, plugging you full of your wetness and his own precum that’s dripping from the fat head of his cock.

“Fuck me, daddy!” You moan as you start to grind up into him.

That’s all the encouragement Seokmin needs to start fucking into you deep and hard. His thrusts knock the air out of your lungs, the thick girth of his cock splitting you open deliciously with every passionate thrust. The amount of pleasure you feel as Seokmin’s large hand spreads your legs so he can fuck you deeper is astronomical. The action stretches you out more, and your boyfriend can’t help but moan loudly as your sweet cunt clamps down on him.

“You’re so damn tight, baby.” Seokmin moans, throwing his head back in pleasure as he continues rolling his hips against you.

He’s already drunk on the feeling of your tight walls suffocating his cock. Your hot cunt is massaging his the entirely of his cock in delicious pleasure that licks up his pelvis and pools in his abdomen. Seokmin’s pace becomes rougher when your loud moans turn into nonsensical babbling.

There’s just something so hot about the sight of you spread out under him, your pretty little cunt barely taking his big cock as you whine for him with those fucked out eyes of yours. His hips are snapping into you without losing pace even as he gently caresses your cheek, practically melting into you. “You’re taking this cock so well, baby. This sweet cunt was made for me.”

It’s insane how his voice can still sound so sweet while he’s balls deep inside you. The loud squelch from your cunt is filling the room, and it just turns you on even more. Seokmin moans when he feels your fluttering cunt clench down on him again.

“You close, angel?” He asks through his groans as he looks down where his cock is sliding in and out of you. “Fuck yeah you are. I can feel you squeezing me real tight.”

“Fuh-Fuck! Make me come, daddy!”

You can’t keep your mouth shut, moaning and whining almost incoherently. It feels like you’re on the verge of coming any second, cunt so sensitive and stretched to the max. The pressure in your lower abdomen builds when Seokmin stars to thumb at your lips.

“Come for me, baby. Cream all over daddy’s cock.” He groans, so fond of you that he feels like his heart might implode.

His coaxing makes the coil in your stomach snap. The intensity of your orgasm is prolonged as Seokmin continues to fuck you through it, never once stopping those snapping hips of his.

Seokmin’s mouth falls open with a loud moan when he looks at your pretty pussy filled with his thick cock, your cream coating his veiny dick. You let out a moan of your own when he hooks his hands underneath your knees and pushes your legs against your chest.

“Pl-Please!” You cry out as he pounds his cock into your hot cunt. “Give me your cum! Fill me up!”

Your aroused pleas trigger something primal in him, and he goes wild at the thought of breeding you. “You want daddy’s cum, angel?”

His heavy balls slap your ass as pathetic mewls tumble from your lips. The way you desperately arch into him as your body trembles has his cock twitching inside your cunt.

“Want it so bad, daddy!” You moan, not caring that you sound needy and pathetic.

Seokmin abruptly releases his cum inside you, orgasm triggered by your neediness. His warm seed fills you as he slowly grinds his dick into you to make sure all his cum stays inside you. “That’s right, baby. Take daddy’s cum like a good girl.”

He goes still for a moment to allow you to gather your senses before he reluctantly pulls out of you. The sight of his cum dripping out of you makes his still hard cock twitch in need. Seokmin is too busy looking at your swollen pussy to see that you’re eyeing his cock hungrily.

You smirk a bit, knowing that the monster between his legs couldn’t possibly satiated with one orgasm. Luckily, you were the same way.

“Daddy.” You whine, fluttering your eyelashes slowly. “Want more.”

It’s so cute the way Seokmin goes red. This was the same man who had fucked your brains out not seconds ago, and you absolutely love it. You bite your lip before coyly speaking again. “Can I be on top this time?”

“Look at my pretty angel.” Seokmin coos, voice dripping with honey as you whimper in his tight hold.

Your boyfriend dragged you along the length of his thick cock, soaking it in your essence. Slick dripped down to his heavy balls before it fell to the sheets between his parted thighs. Seokmin can’t help but to smirk at your needy, fucked out expression as he swirls his wet tongue around your tits. His large hand is pressed flat between your shoulder blades, pressing you closer to him to keep you exactly where he wanted you.

“Daddy, please! Want to ride you!”

His lips gently suckled at your taut bud, slurping around it before he pulled back without releasing you. The wet disconnect and hot pressure from your breasts shot through your body until it was making your pussy clench around nothing but frustrating air.

“Beg me properly, baby. If you want my cock," he shifted his hips to allow the blunt tip of his pulsing cock to catch against your clit. “then say it clearly.”

Your hips rutted with a pathetic mewl. “Please fuck me, daddy. I want your cock so bad!”

Seokmin, ever weak to your desires, slams into you in a toe-curling thrust, forcing your walls apart with an guttural groan. “That’s it, baby. So fucking needy for daddy’s cock, huh?”

Your face is hot against his neck, still trying to get used to his big dick splitting you open. Apparently, your boyfriend is the impatient type.

“What are you waiting for? Fuck yourself on daddy’s cock, angel.”

That’s all it takes for you to start bouncing on his massive cock, lost to a rhythm that was forced upon you. There was no slow up and down, not when your man was in the mood to fuck you completely dumb. Not that you were complaining. This was what you wanted all along.

“So good, daddy.” You moan as you toss your head back.

Seokmin has never felt better than now with your sweet cunt gripping his dick. He thinks he’ll never get enough of you now that he’s had you. That primal thought has him smacking your ass with such force that you rocked forward and fell across his brawny chest. He grips your hips and starte to fuck you up and down on his dick like an animal in heat. The delicious drag of his cock hits directly against your sweet spot that has you seeing stars.

"Daddy, please," you beg in a broken moan.

“What, baby? You wanna come?”

“I, no—yes.” You stutter through your moans and gasps. “But I want daddy’s cum more!”

Seokmin practically growls and starts to fuck his cock up into you at a savage pace. Every clap of his heavy balls on your ass jolts you, forcing you to brace on his strong chest and endure this roughness.

A gentle hand pulled you to his lips where Seokmin devoured you in a lust-fuelled kiss. He swallowed your squeal as his thumb found your aching clit, rubbing at it in precise and fast circles. The wet gush of your orgasm forced past his bullying cock was so intense that the world seemed to spin off its axis as you dived into free fall. You were only dimly aware of the hissed praise from the man still fucking into you.

Sensitive nipples graze across his hard chest, eliciting keening noises as you rutted every time your hips meet Seokmin’s thrusts. Your dripping arousal made the sound of skin slapping utterly carnal in a room that smelled of nothing but sex.

“Daddy’s not done yet, baby.” Seokmin grunts against your lips. “I still have to fill you up.”

You let out a loud moan even though your pussy is fluttering and aching from the overstimulation. You can’t help but buck your hips to meet his thrusts because all you really wanted was him to fuck his cum into you again.

“O-Oh, fuck.” Seokmin moans as he buries his face into the crook of your neck.

His thrusts were getting sloppier by the second, so lost in the feeling of your warm cunt wrapped around him that his mind started to go hazy. “You’re so fucking beautiful, baby. My sweet, perfect angel.”

The grip Seokmin has on your hips is tight as he continues to piston his cock into your hot cunt at a an animalistic speed, relishing in every single centimeter of you. He give you one final harsh thrust before he spills his sticky cum inside you. You two moan together, both loving the feeling of his seed painting your walls white.

“Stay inside me, daddy.” You mewl, clenching down on him when you feel him trying to pull out of you.

He moans when you smash your lips against his in a passionate kiss. You two lay together like that for a moment before Seokmin looks at you with those puppy like eyes of his.

“I wasn’t too rough, was I?”

You snuggle into his chest while shaking your head. “No. You were the perfect gentleman.”

taglist: @duolingofanaccount @felix-3002 @junhui-recs @asjkdk @dani41 @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @ohwonwoo @dokwiyomie

[ki-yomii]

helloo! could you recommend your favorite jungkook and yoongi fics? thank you and have a lovely day ♡

hey there~ 💛

... tbh i haven’t read too many fics for my boys lately 🙈

i've been trying to work through the books sitting on my shelf collecting dust + i got sucked back into fallout now that the show is out lol.

but i do have some all-time favorites!!

please mind the warnings/tags - you're responsible for your own reading consumption. that said, all of these fics are 🔞

i hope you have a great day nonnie and if you have any recs send them my way 🥰!

JUNG KOOK FICS

the crimson shell series by @angelicyoongie

mermaid aus are my lifeblood istg. and this is one of the best one's i've ever read!! it's dark, it's creepy, it's foreboding - and tantalizing. everything i love about mermaid/siren aus crammed into one series.

you had always found comfort in being at the beach, often spending hours just watching the waves lap against the shore. but unbeknowst to you – something had been watching you back.

make you mine two-shot by @colormepurplex2

i'm a sucker for abo, and as such, have read a looot of it over the years. its a genre that's very easy to descend into wtf-how-are-they-still-alive-after-THAT territory but this fic does it very well in a way i haven't seen too often. i loved the world-building and set up.

Alphas might rule the world, but Jungkook finds himself being ruled by the need to make you his. Omegas are rare, precious, and pliant. At least, most are. When you present late, well into your twenties, you're already set in your headstrong ways; a challenge even for a commanding alpha like Jungkook. Add to that the centuries-long feud between your families and the last thing anyone expected was for him to claim you as his soulmate.

a sea of indigo series by @foxymoxynoona this was the first BTS fic i ever read... and is a big reason as to why i got into the fandom in the first place. i had no clue who they were before then. i'd heard of them + listened to agust d without knowing it was yoongi 💀 but this fic made me check out BTS RUN and now here we are 🤪

Pitbull Hybrid Jungkook has finally been freed from the fighting rings, and now finds himself at Marigold Sanctuary & Transition Estate, a place for healing and self-discovery for rescued hybrids. It's stupid, dumb, cheesy, and hell-bent on helping Jungkook "heal" and "find himself" and "decide the course of his life." And right at the center of it is Y/N, a nurse who's got everyone bamboozled that she's like some awesome person. She's not that great. Jungkook hates it here.

YOONGI FICS

witch oneshot by @sailoryooons

this is easily one of my top 3 yoongi fics. the world building, the tension, the relationship between yoongi and reader. it ticks all my boxes and vividly paints a picture of this universe. i adore the concept, and love the way this fic is brought to life through sailoryooons storytelling.

For years, you and Yoongi have played cat and mouse. It’s his duty to rid the world of witches, but he always finds a new excuse to let you slip through his fingers. When you find yourself at his mercy, you wonder if the great witch hunter will finally end your game of chase, or if there’s something that will stay his hand. 

desolate series by @angelicyoongie

one of the first hybrid fics i've read for bts 😭 i love my lil meow meow and the set-up for this fic is amazing. it takes a fresh direction with the hybrid trope and builds a relationship that feels organic and progresses very naturally💛

you just wanted a cute little normal cat to keep you company. so you're not really sure how you ended up with the grumpiest hybrid on earth that seems hellbent on making your life difficult.

ps. i woof you oneshot by @gimmesumsuga

this one is just so so cute and asjhdjsghfjs!! i adored remi and thought about having yoongi and holly as neighbors for days after reading this lol.

The one with a happy accident of the furry, four-legged kind - “Are you calling my dog a slut?!” 

first and last and always oneshot by @floralseokjin

i'm not one for holiday fics/aus usually but there's something about this one that i absolutely adored. it felt very realistic and drew me into the relationship within the first few paragraphs. the angst is so well done and heartfelt, it made me cry lol.

You and Yoongi broke up two months ago. It was mutual, you’re positive, but there’s one teeny tiny issue... You never told your parents, and now they’ve invited you back home for Christmas. Both of you. You can’t say no, but you also can’t bear to go alone, so you do the only thing you can think of, plead with Yoongi to come with you and pretend like everything’s okay...

go send these authors some love!!

[nezuscribe]

I have a lot to say but I don’t know how to phrase any of it so I hope that this will make some semblance of sense.

Firstly, I want to apologize if I ended up spam liking with arranged!Gojo. I came across this universe earlier today and I’ve read as much as I could within the scraps of free time I have today. I think I’m fully caught up and I can’t wait to read more of this in the future! (Assuming that you want to or have interest in continuing to post this universe)

For some reason, your reader deeply resonates with me. She’s someone that I’ve tried to outgrow, (sorry again if this gets too personal) out of fear that I could never have a friend, let alone a group of people that I’ve discovered and be honored to have met them. It pains me to say this, but I think a part deep down inside me has given up on finding the person, a person that I click with and will love more than anyone else — platonic, romantic, or whatever flavor of love it’ll come in. However, after years of trying to shake off (although at times it feels more like hiding) things that I coincidentally have in common with your reader, I think I have the hesitant, terrified hope that maybe something like this could happen to me- that I’m not destined to be alone as cheesy as that sounds… So seeing reader get their person is incredibly inspiring for me and I’m beyond ecstatic that they got their happy ending!!

Your writing with arranged!Gojo is everything and more. I’m afraid that it will haunt me for the rest of my life (in a good way I promise!). It’s so melodic, so realistic and raw and… human?

(If that’s not weird to say, that is if it was and I’ve offended you I apologize again, I’ve- never did something like this before so it’s all unfamiliar to me. Forgive me as I stumble through a forest in the middle of the night with a blizzard with only a thin cloak, a faint lantern to keep me company, and hope that this will be well received.)

I guess I’m trying to say that as I’ve read more and more of your works, I feel… something now and I doubt that I could ever absolutely leave behind. A sense of yearning? Hope? Feeling seen maybe? I’m not- quite sure and I doubt I could ever figure it out, nor do I ever want to.

Man, this is probably a mess to read through and understand so I’ll try to wrap things up to prevent torturing you any further with this nonsensical rambling.

Thank you. Thank you, for sharing your ideas and headcannons with arranged!Gojo. Thank you, for sharing your unique writing, that has happened to resonate with me (I’ll spend eons trying to untangle bits of myself from it and I’ll never be done), and probably others so intensely. Thank you, for providing hope and some confidence that someone (I couldn’t dare hope for many people), could like me for me (shy, scared me instead of the more outgoing personality I act like), for being a moment of calm in a storm I never realized I was drowning in. Thank you for so, so much. It might be a bit too early to say, but I think you might’ve changed my life in a small way, if not a large way. Sincerely, thank you.

- a new supporter

And again, if any of this made you uncomfortable or was too personal or too anything, feel free to ignore and delete this ask! I just- wanted… no needed to try and convey a fraction of what I felt and thought today.

Also, I don’t want to rush you or make you uncomfortable or anything but I would love to have the opportunity to bind everything arranged!Gojo in the future if you’re comfortable with it? I’m happy to talk more details in a private chat, if you would like? (Is that the correct term? I’m not too terribly sure.) I’m also planning on giving you your own personal copy too, if you would like it that is I don’t want to accidentally force you to do anything.

omg thank you so much for sending this in it really made my day <3

and i totally get you nonnie don't apologize. the reason why i write my reader the way i do is because i've lived my entire life believing that something is inherently wrong with me, and that i have to fix myself in order to make somebody like me. and so i get what you're saying and feeling.

i'm so happy that my fics changed your mind, however. i write in hopes that other people can relate and maybe be able to know that they're not alone. and don't apologize for spamming, i get happy knowing people actually read the stuff i write !

and at the end of the day i really hope people take away the simple idea that they'll be loved no matter what. if not with my fics, then with all the other wonderful authors tumblr has. i think we all hope to be loved like that one day, and to know that it's possible and deserving too!

and i would love to see what you have to offer with binding! i've never considered it before but that sounds really cool:)

[captainsophiestark]

The Hard Call

Azriel x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Requeted by Anon! Nonnie, thank you for enabling me to write about Az and Flynn, I absolutely love you for it ❤️ Feel free to drop by any time you want to talk anything SJM-related! Hope you like this, and good news, I have a Flynn fic coming in the next couple days too!

Fandom: A Court of Thorns and Roses

Summary: Azriel made the hard call when he had to, but he's feeling pretty guilty about it.

Word Count: 1,610

Category: Angst, Fluff

WARNING: House of Flame and Shadow spoilers below the cut!

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I swore under my breath as Nesta jammed Ataraxia into the back of the Daglan, the Asteri, whatever it was called. Black blood spurted out of its mouth, but a moment later, the thing—Vesperus—pushed back against the tip of the blade and removed it from her chest. It shouldn't have been possible for something to survive a direct hit like that from Nesta and that sword, but a lot of things from the past few days shouldn't have been possible.

When a fae female had landed in a heap on the River House lawn in front of my mate, I knew we were in for some strange new challenges. But never in a million years could I have predicted the journey she'd led us on through tunnels apparently running all under the Night Court, straight into the heart of the Prison. And now we were facing down one of the most dangerous creatures in the universe, just me, Az, and Nesta, with the female Bryce as an unreliable additional ally.

I tightened my grip on my sword and tried to calm my racing heart as I stood shoulder to shoulder with Azriel. We'd gotten through countless life and death situations together before, but for the first time in a long time, I wasn't sure we'd be able to get out of this one.

Vesperus gave Nesta a horrifying smile as the wound in her chest quickly healed. I glanced to Az, but he kept his eyes locked on the monster before us.

"Ataraxia didn't work," Nesta breathed. "The Trove-"

"Do not summon the Trove," barked my mate. Based on what we knew about this thing before us, I immediately agreed. "Don't bring it near her."

"But-"

"Not even for our lives," he snarled, leaving no room for argument. The same harsh resolve solidified itself in my mind, and I braced myself for the possibility of a last stand. At least if we went down, it would be fighting side by side with my mate.

A flicker of shadows floating softly over my shoulders was the only indication that my mate felt the same. The Daglan grinned, and I got ready to pounce.

****************

Hours later, I sat slumped in my favorite chair in the Velaris townhouse, trying to recover from everything that had happened under the prison. We'd managed to kill the Daglan-Asteri, despite Bryce trying to question it, no matter the risk to our world. But she had gotten away in an impressive display of power, which meant her world's Asteri might have a chance at using her to find us.

Needless to say, when Az, Nesta, and I had made it out of the Prison, we'd had a lot to debrief about with the rest of the Inner Circle.

Nobody was happy about the situation we now found ourselves in, but for the time being, there was also nothing we could do about it. So once we made a basic plan to try to gather information and prepare in case something from that other world came back, we all split off for our separate tasks. Az still had a few things to go over with Rhys, but I was free for the time being, so I'd come to my favorite cozy spot in Velaris to try to come down from the insane adrenaline that had been pumping since Bryce got here.

One perk of Rhys and Feyre building the River House and Nesta keeping Cassian at the House of Wind more often was that the townhouse, my personal favorite location, was often free for Az and I to use as our own. I closed my eyes in my favorite armchair by the fire, still in my fighting leathers, and focused on taking deep breaths to try to get the tension out of my shoulders.

I'd actually almost managed to drift off to sleep when I heard the front door open and shut heavily. I didn't need to look to know Az had just arrived, so with a deep sigh to drag me back from the edge of sleep, I raised my head and turned to look at my mate.

"Everything figured out with Rhys?" I asked. He nodded once, moving into the room with a face like stone. I frowned, sitting up and paying a little better attention as he took a seat on the couch, his gorgeous hazel eyes never leaving mine. "What's wrong?"

A muscle in Az's jaw ticked, and I knew he was mustering a response to my words. Despite his reputation as the unreadable spymaster, all our time together as friends and then as mates had given me a leg up on everyone else who tried to read his expressions.

I stood from my seat in the armchair and moved to sit before Az on the couch instead, taking his hands in mine. His eyes searched my face, and I let a small smile work its way through the exhaustion, trying to put him at ease. He could take however long he needed to, and I'd be ready to listen when he wanted to talk.

"I'm... sorry."

I raised an eyebrow. "For what, exactly?"

That muscle in his jaw was working over time, the rest of his face the same inscrutable mask he'd worked so hard to perfect.

"For what happened in the Prison. For... being willing to let you die down there, rather than risk Nesta summoning the Trove. You deserve a better mate than that."

My jaw dropped, shock preventing me from responding for a few small moments. Az just kept staring at me, and even though his face didn't show it, I could feel the guilt eating him up at his core.

"Az, you have nothing to apologize for!" I finally managed. One of his eyebrows quirked up and he frowned, expressing doubt at my words without speaking one of his own. I huffed and squeezed his hands tighter.

"Listen to me, Azriel. The reason you are my mate is because you made that decision in the Prison. We both know that letting something like that into the world with a weapon like the Mask is an unacceptable option, as long as there is anything in this world we can do to prevent it. If the Daglan or the Asteri or whatever she was had gotten her hands on the mask, it probably would've cost the lives of everyone we've ever cared about, and the rest of this world along with it. Nothing is worth allowing that to happen."

Az ground his jaw, his gaze softening and his eyebrows furrowing as he continued to scan my face.

"Are you... sure? Cassian and Rhys... I think they'd tear the world to shreds for their mates."

I just shrugged. "For what? If the world is gone, if the cost of that choice is absolutely everything else, then what's the point of saving each other in the first place? We'd have nothing left, other than the blood of the world on our hands."

Az grunted, and I shifted closer to him, bringing one hand up to cup his cheek.

"Az. I love you, so much, and a part of that love is because you're not so selfish as to risk throwing the world away for me. Especially since, more likely than not, we'd be dead anyway not long after she got that mask. Neither of us is selfish enough to make a call like that, and I love that about us. The only thing that matters is that we stand together as long as we can, and I knew damn well in the cave that if either of us was going down, we were going down side by side, fighting to our last breath. Obviously I'm happy we both made it out of there, and I'm not saying we shouldn't fight for each other, but that call you made today? I'd be pissed if you'd made a different one."

Az studied me for another second, and I let him see every truth and emotion written in my face. Finally, he sighed, the tension going out of his shoulders as he reached out and pulled me closer to him, arms around my waist. I smiled, wrapping my arms around his neck and tangling my hands in his hair. We'd almost died today, and I wasn't about to take the fact that we were both still here together for granted.

"Have I mentioned lately how happy I am to have you as my mate?" Az asked, his voice a little gravelly as he leaned in closer to me. I smiled, leaning forward and letting my lips ghost over his own.

"Yeah, actually, you have. But I'll never complain about hearing it again."

Az smirked, then gently closed the last of that distance between us, his lips brushing softly against mine. I leaned into the kiss, eager for more contact, and I could feel Az's smirk widening right before I deepened the kiss. He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me as tight to his body as possible, and I tangled my hands in his hair, letting myself get swept up in him.

I'd meant every word I'd said to my mate, about the choice he'd made and how I felt about it. But I was also incredibly happy it hadn't come down to the cost of our lives, and that we'd made it out of there together. And now that Official Night Court Business had been taken care of, I intended to fully celebrate and appreciate Azriel, and the fact that we were still here together. And I knew he intended to do the same.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989

[pinkthrone445]

Heyyy

I’d love a Mel x reader smut where they are enemies to lovers 🥺

Thank you for the request! I hope you like it cute Nonni <3 😊

🎄Happy holidays yall! Smutsanta it's bringing hot requests for naughty people and your names are on my naughty list! Enjoy!🎄

~The Schemmenti Sisters~

Pairing:Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Gender: Smut ⚠️

Warnlings : (+18) strong words, fingering, vulgar language.

Summary:You and Melissa didn't get along very well, you were friends with her sister which instantly made you her enemy, but PECSA weekend helped fix things.

PECSA week, One of the best weekends of the year, Newbies went for lectures, but you and your friend Marie went for the drinks, hot tubs, and free stuff. Even though you worked at a high-paying school, you weren't going to turn down free stuff and a relaxing weekend. Even though you were a relatively new teacher, Marie taught you that the best way to enjoy those lectures was to take advantage of everything you could, not to go to the lectures. That's how you arrived at the edge of a large swimming pool, sitting in a comfortable chair, a piña colada in one of your hands and your favorite book in the other. Marie was next to you, wearing sunglasses and taking the opportunity to get a tan.

Halfway through your book, your glass was already empty, so you got up to get a new drink, taking the opportunity to stretch your legs a little instead of calling the waiter. While waiting for your new drink, you noticed a woman sitting at the bar, a redhead with a beautiful body, wearing a beautiful bikini that hugged her in all the right places and a little transparent dress on top, you could tell she was a few years older but her body couldn't have been in better shape

-"Good morning, enjoying the pool?"-You asked to start a conversation with the beautiful woman. When she turned around, your smile changed to an annoyed grin at seeing who she was-"Schemmenti"-You said with annoyance in your voice, the redhead laughed when she saw you

-"Were you really about to flirt with me?"-She asked you with a mocking smile

-"I wasn't flirting with you" - you replied quickly

-"Please I know the hate that you normally use to speak to me and it wasn't present in your voice, tell me, didn't you realize it was me or did you finally decide to admit your feelings towards me now that my sister is not glued to your hip?"-The redhead laughed, mocking you with her thick accent, and you rolled your eyes

-"Shut up, if there's anyone who has feelings for the other, it's you. Do you think I can't see how you look at my body now that I'm wearing a bikini? Or how you were drooling looking at my ass now that I got to the pool with your sister?"-You answered, and the eldest frowned with her cheeks tinted red. While she was thinking of an answer, you grabbed her drink and took a sip since it was the same as what you had asked for, you smiled with satisfaction and took a few steps away from her with the drink in hand-"Since we have the same drink, I'll take yours and leave you waiting for mine while you think of a response to my comment" - you said going back to your seat and leaving the redhead there at the bar.

You and Melissa have known each other for a couple of years, from the moment you had met, the hurtful and sarcastic comments began. If Barbara was Melissa's work wife, you were her sister's work wife, and that meant being on her side when the two of them fought. Even though you and Melissa had no reason to fight, the fact that you were on her sister's side and working on a private school already put you against the redhead.

That same night, Marie came to your room to pick you up to go for drinks at the special teachers' dinner, your school had everything it needed, so instead of using that opportunity to talk to suppliers, you used it to have as many "matheritas" as possible. It wasn't very often that you could wake up hungover the next day, so you had to take advantage of the opportunity.

The night was young, the alcohol was strong, your dress tight and the music was just right. Everything was fine as it should be, until you returned to your table after looking for more drinks, and Melissa and Barbara were taking your seats while talking to a supplier who was your friend

-"I got our drinks!"-you said handing the drink to your other friend

-"Well, well, well..."-Marie spoke when she saw her sister sitting in your places. The redhead saw you and her sister and got up from the table and took her drink

-"Let's go, this table is busy" - she said before disappearing and taking Barbara with her, whom apologized before getting up.

After a while, Melissa and her friend returned to the table, Barbara immediately took a chair and slumped down very tired and with her feet sore

-"Sorry ladies, would it bother you if we sit with you again?" - The older one asked and your friend nodded her head

-"We would love for you to join us, as soon as Melissa admits that her bragioli is awful"-The blonde said, turning to look at her sister

-"Are you kidding me? I've seen you put regular bacon in your carbonara, you gagootz"-Melissa responded gesticulating a lot with her hands, making a lot of noise with her bracelets and her sister frowned

-"It was a delicious fusion dish!"-Your friend shouted and you laughed when you saw the embarrassed faces Barbara made as she listened to them, meanwhile you ate the snacks on the table watching the discussion as if it were a movie. While the two were arguing, a woman bumped into the blonde and slammed her back, causing the two sisters to team up to fight her. That's how finally, and in a bit of a strange way, the two of them made peace.

The rest of the night the four of you shared the table and a good round of drinks, you were sitting between the two Schemmentis, being very aware of how your knee brushed against the redhead's, or how her hand occasionally rested on your bare thigh every time someone made a joke and she laughed. When your drinks ran out and you got up to get more, the redhead went after you to accompany you using the excuse that you couldn't bring all the glasses alone. But halfway through, what you were going to do took a back seat when some people invited the two of you to a couple competition to see which group could drink the most matheritas.

Ever since Melissa had made up with her sister, her treatment for you changed as well. You felt like she was still aggressive and sarcastic, but with desire for you too, you didn't know if it was really happening or if you were imagining it because of how much you had taken that night.

When the last opponents arrived, Melissa lowered her glass in one gulp, but you were having a bit of a hard time, feeling that if you kept drinking, everything would come out again the same place it went in. The redhead's hands on your shoulders and her breath on your neck distracted you a bit, taking you away from the nauseas you were having

-"Come on hon, if you take this glass, we'll be undefeated champions, please do it for me... Do it for me and I'll let you look at my breasts when we're done, so you don't have to pretend you're not looking at my cleavage every time I turn to look at something else or every time I bend down in front of your face"-The redhead's voice almost made you choke, but with renewed desire and a new motivation, you finished the liquid that was left in your glass. Everyone around shouted in celebration and you got up a little dizzy from your seat, smiling when the redhead hugged you and held you, celebrating the victory with you.

Before you could register much more, the older one started pulling your arm guiding you through the crowd, at first you thought you would go back to the table, but you blushed to see that she locked you along with her in one of the bathrooms that was empty

-"What are you doing Schemmenti?-You asked, stumbling over your own words as you saw how the redhead opened her animal print dress more, generously letting you see her round and tasty breasts. Nervously you looked away to another part of the bathroom, but she grabbed your jaw and made you look into her eyes, unintentionaly, your gaze diverted to her lips and then to her cleavage, she laughed at the sight of you which made her breasts bounce slightly, making your mouth drool

-"I'm a woman who keeps her word, I told you what your reward would be and you delivered, it's my turn to pay you..."-she replied smiling and you licked your lips that suddenly felt dry

-"I thought it was a joke..."-you whispered suddenly shyly, having Melissa so close in such a small space, intimidated you

-"Joke or not, that definitely made you eager... Even in your eyes I could tell that you liked my idea, so stop being shy and take advantage of the opportunity before someone comes looking for us"-She responded with her thick accent and you finally looked at her breasts, the redhead straightened up to let them closer to your face, your hands trembling with the desire to touch them but you didn't know how far she would allow you to go. She took your hands herself and placed them on her breasts, making you squeeze them. A moan escaped from your mouth and hers, you wished to massage them and fill them with marks every inch and every day. Your breathing was ragged and you felt dizzy, wanting to take a step towards her you tripped and she grabbed your waist tightly, laughing. With great skill and speed, the redhead turned you around resting your front against the sink and your back against her crotch, her breasts felt soft against the skin of your back that was exposed thanks to the back neckline of the dress. With her nails she ran gently down your legs, making you tremble a little-"I've barely touched you and you're already clumsy for me... Tell me, all those times you answered me aggressively and fought me, it was because you were really on my sister's side or to test if I put you in your place? Brat..."-Hearing those words from her mouth made you moan again and move your hips over nothing. With one hand, Melissa grabbed your jaw making you look yourself in the mirror and see her too, with the other hand, she squeezed one of your breasts tightly, pinching your nipples through the fabric of your dress-"I asked you a question, it's rude not to answer... Were you never taught manners? Maybe you need to spend more time with me, I'd put you in your place and you'd be obeying every word I say just to please me..."-The redhead reached under your dress and brushed your crotch through your underwear-"Fuck... You ruined your panties... Answer or the next thing ruined will be you"-she bite your neck marking you lightly

-"I had to defend your sister, she's my friend... But I'm much more happy to be a brat just so you can put me in my place"-you replied between moans, seeing yourself in the reflection made you feel ashamed, but seeing the face of possession of the woman behind you, made you very wet. The redhead, happy with your answer, began to move your underwear to the side, with her thumb she parted your outer lips and with her ring finger she went all over your center collecting your juices. Your hips involuntarily began to move against her fingers, which she understood as a signal to start pressing and playing with your clit. Even though you did your best to keep quiet, you were failing miserably, so the woman took your face with her free hand, making you turn your head to one side so she can connect her lips with yours to keep you quiet. While her fingers were doing magic, her mouth took you to another level, her soft and delicate lips kissing you in such a profane and dirty way, her tongue expertly finding its way into your mouth as if she had already kissed you a thousand times and knew what you liked.

You felt like it was just another one of your fantasies where the redhead was mercilessly fucking you in every corner she found you, but the way her fingers were touching you was too real to be a dream. Melissa inserted two of her fingers into you quite easily because of how wet you were. Still kissing you, she started pumping them inside you while her thumb played with your clit. Your walls began to imprison her fingers, but she only pumped them harder. When she noticed that you were close, she bent you a little over tha sink,then she bent her fingers, spread them apart, and played inside you very skillfully, making you come over her fingers and moaning on her lips. Your body relaxed against her, still spasming and already out of breath, you parted your lips from her and leaned against her body, trying to recover. After a few more seconds of pumping, the redhead pulled her fingers out of you and put them in your mouth for you to lick and clean, smiling as she watched through the mirror how, still lost, you sucked her fingers as if your life depended on it. The woman carefully turned you over and gave you one last kiss, moaning as she felt your taste on her lips. She quietly arranged her clothes and yours to look more presentable and not like you had just fucked in a bathroom. She smiled and unlocked the door, she was about to leave when you grabbed her hand, she turned and looked at you curiously

-"Stay, I want to taste you too..."-You begged still agitated and she laughed

-"You can barely breathe hon... You'd better get your breath back and we'll do it another time, because if we don't get back to the table soon, my sister and Barbara will come out looking for us, and my sister will be mad at me again when she sees that I fucked her best friend in a bathroom... And I don't want to fight her because that's going to mean not seeing you again..."-she whispered before kissing your forehead and leaving the bathroom, leaving you there to catch your breath.

The rest of PECSA's remaining time went by normally, as if nothing had happened, except for the discreet glances and touches between you and Melissa.

-Two Weeks Later-

When the last of the children left the classroom, you grabbed your bag ready to leave, but were surprised to see a redhead leaning against the door of your classroom

-"Schemmenti... What are you doing here?" - You asked and she smiled

-"I came to visit my sister..."-She replied simply

-"Well...Her classroom it is the next one, not here..."-You replied a little disappointed, you would be lying if you said that since she had touched you, you hadn't thought of her again eating you out or you licking her pussy. Nights went by begging for her to call you or something, all you wanted was for it to happen again, to be with her again. But she didn´t .

-"I know where her classroom is, but I also came to see my favorite girl at this school and that's not her... It's you... Since you're about to leave, do you want to go eat something at my house?"-The redhead offered and you nodded excitedly closing your classroom to go with her.

[littlexscarletxwitch]

Hiiii i have a request, but dont know if you want to do it.

Flo X reader

Flo and reader have been dating for a while. They have a happy healthy relationship. Reader is getting more famous (dj, traveling the world) and thats hard on their relationship. Flo gets jealous because reader gets alot of female attention and don’t know how to tell reader this bothers her. Also because they dont gave the time for eachother. This takes a toll on their relationship. After some time they decide to break up because they feel like they don’t give each other the time they deserve.

Maybe a year after they “move on” but after seeing each other again, feelings resurface. You can decide the ending

── ༊*·˚⋆ 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗯𝗮𝗰𝗸

paring: florence pugh x fem!reader

tag(s): a bit of fluff, mostly angst, flo and r break up, i almost made myself cry, a little bit of possessive flo but we love her

warning(s): grammatical errors, unedited, not proofread

word count: 2.9k

note: I looooove how this one turned out, I had so much writing this nonnie. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it and I hope you like it, I tried my best lol. Also, she's looong, I love that xd. Also just as I was finishing it I realised you said a year later, well oops, but sometimes 6 months can feel like a whole year. Lots of love M <3

requests are open! + check my rules + masterlist <3

“Guess what?” you popped your head into your and Florence’s shared bedroom.

“What’s up?” she asked, her eyes not leaving the script she was reading. 

“I’ve got you tickets for tonight’s show. VIP for you, Ashley, Toby, Theo, whoever you want,” you said, smiling. 

She finally looked up at you, she saw the brightness in your eyes that she just couldn’t say no nor she wanted to. “That’s great, baby! Thank you,” she said, blowing you a kiss. 

“Yeah, I thought you would like to come since it’s my last show here and then the tour starts,” you said, making your way to the bed and lying next to her.

Florence mentally cursed herself, she was so caught up with her work that she had totally forgotten that you would be touring for the next six months. She felt sick to her stomach knowing you would be that long away from her, but it was your job after all. Being the most recent popular DJ opened up more doors to you, and that included a full world tour. She couldn't be prouder for you, but she also hated to be so far away from you for so long. Still, she plastered a smile on her face for your sake.

“Yeah, I would love nothing more. We will be there, of course,” she said as she pecked your lips.

[...]

With a drink on her hand, Florence was swaying her hips to the rhythm, her eyes fixed on you even from the VIP sector. She had a smile on her face until a girl showed up next to you, and she couldn't help the smile turning into a frown. 

She was well aware of the attention sometimes you would get, especially from other girls, it was no news to her. But that brunette smiling at you was getting on her last nerve.

“Come on, Flo! You love this song,” Theo, Florence’s friend, tried to get her to dance again.

As she looked back at her friend she realised you had played her favourite song, well it was actually a remix of it, a remix you had made specifically for her. She smiled at the thought of you thinking of her, so her eyes settled back on you and much to her annoyance that brunette was still there, now practically grinding on you. She wasn’t having anymore of that

Florence drank the last bit of the glass before muttering ‘I’ll be right back’ to her friends. She made her way toward you, determination written all over her face. 

“Oh, hey!” you said as you watched her from the corner of your eyes. Florence could tell you were having fun playing your songs but she could also see how tense up your shoulders were, how awkward the brunette was making you. 

“Hi,” she said in a low voice as she grabbed your chin, making you face her and smashed her lips against yours. 

You smiled through the kiss as you heard the crowd in front of you cheering, but unaware that Florence sent a death glare to the brunette while roughly and possessively kissing you. She pushed her tongue inside of your mouth, her eyes glued to the brunette as she watched her face shift into awkwardness. 

You backed away from her, pecking her lips one more time before getting back to your console to keep the party going. Florence decided to not leave your side for the rest of the night, she had to make sure to keep what was her untouched from other people. So she spent the rest of the night grinding on you, stealing kisses from time to time and sending death glare to whoever girl got too close to you.

As she swayed her hips, the thought of you alone in different parts of the world unprotected from other prying eyes upset her, she tried her best to push those thoughts away. She had tonight to make sure everyone knew you were taken and she was going to make sure of it. 

[...]

You felt on the top of the highest mountain, three shows in a week, twice a month all over Europe, Asia, and America. You felt like it couldn't get any better, but night after night the people attending would prove you wrong, making each night unique and memorable.

One of the best parts of your job was that you got to party as much as the people in your shows, you had fun along with them, a dream come true really.

After every show you would call Florence and tell her all about it, the atmosphere, the loud cheering, the dancing, the people you met. The first few weeks she had a smile on her face as she listened to you over the phone, but her smile got bitter as she would see the pictures you would post the next day. 

At first she was happy that you were having the time of your life, but that happiness turned into a dark feeling once she saw all the girls all over you. She tried her best to ignore it, expecting you to ease her mind but you never brought the topic up, not even just to reassure her that those girls were nothing.

Truth be told, you didn’t even realise they were hanging out too close to you night after night as you were too caught in doing your job. It was nothing to you, they weren't Florence. You didn’t even look at them, just when your agent would show you the pictures that were going to be posted. 

But Florence couldn’t take it anymore as she saw the last picture you posted and a girl was kissing your cheek, that was the last straw.

“Hi, baby,” you yawned as you picked up her call, too tired after another successful show. “I was just about to call you.”

“Hey,” she could hear the smile on your face and she instantly felt guilty for having thought to scream at you. 

“I just wrapped up in Spain, Barcelona was epic really, we should come here sometime.”

“Yeah?” she sniffed, her emotions being all over the place. Not just jealousy and the anger toward those women, but missing you was taking a toll on her. “If you think so, then we must,” she felt tears burning her eyes. 

“Flor, are you okay?” she heard as you shifted on the other side of the phone, worried in your tone. “You sound upset.”

“I just—,” she sniffed again, she was about to tell you everything, how she felt, the doubt going through her mind. But she just couldn’t. “When are you coming back?” she cleared her throat. 

“Well, it’s been three months, so three months left,” you chuckled, trying to ease the tension. “We are wrapping up in Europe, five more shows I believe and then—.”

“Y/n, I don’t think I can do this,” she cut you off abruptly. 

Your heart dropped, she didn’t mean that, right?

“Do what, my love?” you played dumb, not wanting to hear her next words. 

“Whatever this is,” tears were rolling down her cheeks, but her voice didn’t tremble.

“‘Whatever this is?’ You think this is whatever?” you wanted to be angry at her, but really all you felt was sadness and rejection. You loved her, she loved you. This was not whatever. 

“Long distance just isn't doing it for me,” she just replied, as if you and her hadn’t been dating for almost two and a half years.

“Isn’t doing it for you,” you scoffed. “Really? I’m working, Florence. This is my job. I’m not on sabbatical, okay? I thought you were proud… I thought you were happy about me, world touring is a big thing.”

“I know, Y/n. I–.” 

What am I doing? Florence thought. 

“No,” you cut her off. “You’re not being fair, you are—.”

“I’m not being fair?” you could sense the anger in her voice now. “You left, okay? What did you expect me to do? That I was just going to wait for you at the front door like a puppy?” she finally snapped.

“Not like a puppy, but I thought I meant more… I thought you…” you sniffed. “I guess I was just wrong.”

“I guess we both were,” she said, then silence followed. 

You took a deep breath, pushing back the tears and swallowing the lump on your throat. 

“So this is it,” you waited for her to deny your words, you wanted her to. 

“Yeah, this is it,” she said instead, her angry and irrational self talking. 

You bit down your bottom lip as hard as you could to stop the whimper that threatened to escape your lips. 

“Okay, I… um,” you sniffed. “I’ll text someone to go pick up my things. Not that I have much there anyway…

“Y/n—” she tried, but the damage was already done. 

“Goodbye, Flor,” you said, the nickname finally shattering Florence’s heart into a million pieces.

“Y/n?” she tried again, sobbing, but all she heard was the dead line on the other side. 

[...]

Was it masochist of you to watch your ex’s new movie after having broken up six months ago? Yes, most likely yes.

You told yourself that it was just a coincidence, but you won’t lie to yourself, you knew exactly what you were doing when you decided to play that film.

You weren’t sure how you felt about her, you thought you had moved on from your relationship, that you grieved it and now you were at peace with it. But watching her on the screen, watching her smile, laugh, sure she was playing a character but the resemblance to the real Florence, the Florence you knew was there. 

You huffed in annoyance at yourself as the credits played on the screen. It was enough self pity for a day, you decided to go out and have a coffee, trying your best to get your mind off of your ex and her pretty smile. 

Your legs took you to your usual coffee place without much thought. It was a route you knew by heart, it was the coffee place that was closest to your apartment, and it was also the one you and Florence would usually go to. You dryly laughed at yourself as you opened up the door, could you be any more masochist?

You took your time looking at the menu, even though it was pointless since you always order the same thing. 

“Hello, what can I get for you?” the cute waitress smiled at you. 

“Hi, can I get a black coffee and an avocado toast to go please?” you returned the smile. 

“Sure thing!” Wendy, as it read on her tag name, said. 

You moved aside, waiting for your order as Wendy took new orders from the other clients. “Hi! Can I get a black tea with oat milk and two chocolate cookies to go, please?” you heard someone say to Wendy. 

A sad smile formed on your lips as you remembered that was Florence’s order. But it was silly really to think about her, most brits order tea and you were living in London after all.

“There you go,” the person said once again, probably handling Wendy the money. 

A shiver went up your spine as the stranger’s voice echoed in your mind. That raspy low voice, it sounded so similar to one you used to hear every morning, the one that sent shivers down your spine and caused butterflies in your stomach when it whispered in your ear. You shook your head, pushing away all thoughts related to Florence. 

It cannot be her, Y/n. You told yourself. She is not fucking here. Florence is…

“Y/n?” that sweet raspy low voice asked. 

Painfully slowly you turned around to face her, afraid and excited to meet her eyes. Those soft green eyes you so loved, those gentle green eyes that used to look at you with adoration, those green eyes whose owner broke your heart.

“Hi,” you almost whispered. 

“Hey,” you noticed the corner of her lips slightly pulling upwards.

You weren’t sure what to do next and neither did Florence since her lips gaped like a fish out of water. 

“I… I have to go,” you mumbled quickly, nodding to yourself. “Yeah, I have to—.”

“Y/n, you didn’t even get your order yet,” she sweetly muttered.

“Right,” you cursed yourself mentally. “Yeah, I’ll get my coffee and then I do have to go.”

As if on cue, you heard your name being called. Unlucky for you, so was Florence’s. 

“Sit with me,” she pleaded as you grabbed your coffee and avocado toast. Before you could deny her once again, she said, “Please, Y/n.”

She sounded so sweet, so gentle, so broken and wounded. She sounded nothing like the woman who broke up with you during a phone call. 

You made the mistake to look at her pickle green eyes and there was no way you could say no. 

“Five minutes,” you muttered, making your way to a free table, sure she was following behind you.

“Fifteen tops.”

“Ten,” you countered back.

She cleared her throat as the two of you took a seat opposite of eachother. “How… um.. How have you been?” she stared.

“Busy, really busy,” you took a sip of your coffee, buying yourself some time. A half lie, the tour ended 3 months ago so you weren’t that busy.

“I know it’s been a while and I just…” Florence couldn’t find the right words to say.

She had been waiting for this opportunity ever since you hung up the phone, she wanted to explain herself to you, she wanted to tell you what was going through her mind when she ended the most beautiful relationship she had ever had. She wanted to call you so many times after breaking up, but never found the courage to do so. She knew this was her only chance, she knew she couldn’t mess up. 

“That night…” you felt tears burning in the corner of your eyes, but you refused to let them roll down your cheeks.  “Before you called I was looking at some pictures you posted, and I just couldn’t stop myself from thinking how much fun you were having without me,” she cleared her throat. “And all I could see was all those women around you, touching you, smiling at you,” she humorlessly chuckled. “Fuck, I even remeber one was kissing your cheek or something.”

Your eyes winded as the memory came back, you wanted to tell her what happened: that the girl was beyond drunk, that you were just being polite, that your photographer took the picture without you noticing but you pushed off the girl as soon as her lips touched your cheek. You wanted to tell her when she called you, but she never let you explain it.

“And I just got so jealous and mad… and sad because I missed you,” she sniffed. “My emotions were all over the place and I just didn’t handle the situation how I would have wanted to.”

“That night I was going to tell you. I felt so guilty about that stupid kiss. Nothing happened, she was just really drunk and somehow they snapped a quick picture,” you explained to her nonetheless. “I didn’t want to post that picture, I wanted to delete it, but they thought it was a good picture so I couldn’t have a say in the matter,” you forced yourself to meet her gaze. “I want you to know that nothing ever happened.” 

A weight lifted off of both yours and Florence’s shoulders.

“I should have talked to you about my feelings.”

“I should have forced them out of you,” you chuckled.

“Yeah, maybe…” she said, lost in her own thoughts while a thin smile formed on her lips. “Are you… are you seeing someone?” she cofed, trying to act nonchalant.

You bite your bottom lip, trying to hold back the grin. “I am not,” you licked your lips, suddenly feeling them dry. “Are you?” you almost whispered. 

“No,” she quickly shook her head. “I am not.”

Silence embraced the two of you as yours and Florence’s heart started quickly and loudly beating. 

“So, I…”

“Maybe we…”

You both giggled as you both wanted to speak at the same time.

“You first,” you smiled at her.

“Have dinner with me,” she simply said. 

Once again you took your bottom lip in between your teeth. “Florence, I don’t know if…”

“Please, Billie misses you,” your stomach shrunk at her comment.

“Fuck,” you mumbled under your breath but she still heard you which made her smile. “Just Billie?” you asked teasingly and with a bit of hope. 

“No, not just Billie. I miss you too,” she slowly reached for your hand across the table, scared you were going to pull it away from hers. She let out the breath she was holding when you squeezed her hand, that was progress. “Just the three of us, dinner at mine, please?”

From the moment you saw her at the cafe you knew you were back at her mercy, who were you trying to fool? 

“Fine,” you pretend to sound annoyed, but she knew you were only messing with her since you flashed her a smile. 

You would always come back to her, you knew it and you were sure she knew it as well.

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! <3

-M

[bidisasterevankinard]

Wip Wednesday

do I have the stage where I start new wips but barely write the one's I have because I'm super indecisive and not inspired? yes. let's hope soon I will be fine and work on my wips I want to work on. Anyway meet new wip where bucktommy will have long angst in their relationship because Tommy needs to grief "what ifs" with Sal he never thought about till he sees Sal as Captain of 118 (it's an au where Sal is a captain instead of Gerass)(it's only the start of the fic btw)

thanks to nonny @racerchix21 and this song (the title taken from the song and it's "I tried to go on like I never knew you"

Tommy knows it all should be in the past. In stolen kisses in bars they knew Gerrard and the team would never come too. In usually passionate and wild - almost never tender and sweet - sex. In secrets they shared under sheets, when they both knew that the moment their fabric cover was gone they couldn't talk about those moments of comfort and vulnerability they shared. In breakfast’s Sal made for him and his nonna's lasagna recipe Tommy cooked for the man. In wild dreams Tommy knew could never be a reality. Especially not when Sal changed stations and firstly their meetups were less and less frequent until they stopped after Sal’s wedding. 

And Tommy swears he thought he was over it. Over Sal. Over dreams of the future they could never share. But one look at the man whose appearance barely changed since Tommy last saw him five years ago, staying near 118 trucks the same way he always did, while talking with Chim, and all that got back at him. All the memories of stolen love and painful hope to be happy, proud and loved. Preferably by his “best friend”. By the one of the best men he ever met even if they could be rough with each other or rude or just wrong. Sal always came back with sorry, that Tommy knew was genuine. They were so wrong together, but also so wrongly perfect. So electric. Sal made him feel how almost no one could. Only his first crush Eric from the army, Sal and …

“Hey, handsome, sorry for the delay, Hen needed help to choose a present for Karen,” Evan kissed his cheeks, smiling like thousands of suns.

If Tommy didn’t know and was pretty acquainted with Evan’s quirks and little signs of his fatigue, he would never think the man just ended his 48 hour shift.

“It’s fine, baby.”

Tommy smiles and he hopes his inner turmoil of seeing an old friend is not shown on his face.

“Have you met my new captain yet?”

“No, but I don’t need to.”

Evan adorably tits his head and Tommy wants his heart to be so fast only because of it and the taste of Evan’s lip balm on his cheek, but he swears he can feel the taste of liquor he and Sal were drinking last time they kissed. Right before Sal asked Jennifer out on their first date.

“I worked with Sal. Even more than Chim and Hen,” Tommy says and Evan for a second frowns and then hits his face.

“And they were no less inseparable as you and Eddie,” Chim says, with the loud sound of gum bubbles breaking.

Tommy doesn’t know when he and Sal got closer to them, but he would really happy if they never see that Tommy was there at all. 

“God, of course. In my defense it was so long ago I just haven’t even thought that all three of you were a team.”

“Yeah, I left the station almost a decade ago and it feels like it was in another life, so it’s fine, Buck.” 

Sal smiles at his boyfriend and Tommy wants to make as much room between them as possible. Maybe it will help him to to separate all these feelings of worry and anxiety and love and confusion from the sight of the man he had loved for years, but had never had the opportunity to own his love completely for himself, never feeling that Sal had given him his heart, and a man who he knows is step away from get into his own chest and rip out his heart with all the vessels and give it to Tommy if he just says the word. Sal would never do it even if Tommy would beg

I was tagged by @tizniz @cal-daisies-and-briars @diazheartsbuckley @diazsdimples

Tagging @wikiangela @neverevan @hippolotamus @watchyourbuck @evnnkinard @evansboyfriend @evanbegins @evanbi-ckley @repressedqueen @rogerzsteven @racerchix21 @eddiebabygirldiaz @theotherbuckley @pirrusstuff @saybiwithme @steadfastsaturnsrings @devirnis @giddyupbuck @honestlydarkprincess @kinard-buckley @loveyouanyway @lonelychicago @bigfootsmom @bekkachaos @bi-buckrights @bewilderedbuckley @monsterrae1 and anyone who wants to

[captain-hawks]

Happy spicy sleepover!! I come armed with more snacks and a humble offering of a jealous Shinei Nouzen proving to reader why he’s number one

Thank you as always Dee!! 🩵🩵

i turn into an excited gremlin as soon as i see shin's name i swear. thank you for requesting the best boy, nonnie<3!

shinei nouzen x f!reader

c: jealousy, secret relationship, p in v, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, squirting, set during an undefined period but shin is 18+

It’s different tonight—the way he touches you.

The possessive way his fingers curl around your waist, thumbs pressing into your hip bones before he slides off your underwear, mouthing a kiss against the marred skin from a years-old bullet wound on your abdomen. 

You’ve never quite defined this place where the two of you meet, both of your hearts too tired from years of loss and bloodshed to let the shape of your lips form the words buried in your throat. 

Maybe it’s a lie to call this casual, the familiar indentation of your bodies against his mattress. 

—but self-preservation is all you’ve got left lately, when you wake up not knowing if each sunrise will be your last.

Shinei’s hair brushes across your face while he leans over you and murmurs, “Raiden couldn’t handle you.”

Oh.

That’s what’s got him so worked up.

You’d maybe, possibly, potentially kissed Raiden tonight after the rest of the squadron cajoled you into joining their boredom-fuelled game of spin the bottle. And you’d perhaps only done it after glancing over to see Shin with one hand against his ear, his book long-forgotten on the coffee table, the corner of his mouth curved upward as he carried on his conversation with the new commander.

It was hardly a kiss, despite the fuss the rest of the girls made over it afterward—Kurena even loudly whispered about how good the two of you would look together.

And that was that. 

—until Shin caught you in the dark hallway after everyone else turned in, your body flush against the door to his quarters as he kissed you hard. 

Something hot licks its way through your gut seeing this side of Shin, the jealousy that hangs in the flicker of his eyes, the tick of his jaw. He drags his lips down the side of your neck, stopping to take the tender skin above your collarbone between his teeth.

“Were you jealous, Shin?” you whisper, carding your fingers through his hair, a little gasp escaping your lips when he cups one of your breasts in his hands and runs a thumb over your pebbled nipple.

In turn, you shift your leg, pressing your knee into the flushed length that hangs between his legs, precum smearing over your skin. He groans from where he’s currently closing his lips around your tit, your body arching in pleasure from the vibration. “What do you think?”

“He wasn’t half ba—”

The words die on your lips as Shin’s body presses down into yours, one hand pinning your wrists above your head while he slowly lets his cock slide along your slick folds, your communication dissolving into a litany of whimpering moans with each subsequent, teasing stroke.

“Hm?” he asks, pressing a kiss to the corner of your parted lips.

“You were busy with the commander,” you breathe out, your own jealousy thinly veiled in the wake of your arousal.

“I would have rather been busy with you,” Shin rasps, lips slotting over yours, and he murmurs against the seam of your mouth, “I’d always rather be busy with you.”

(—and two orgasms later, when you’re wrecked and soaked and gasping into Shin’s mouth as he swallows down your hoarse, whimpering moans, his thumb dragging deft circles into your aching, overstimulated clit while you ride him, somehow still begging for more—

—you can’t even begin to fault him for the brief satisfied, smug look that flashes in his eyes when a gush of clear liquid sprays out of you as he fucks you through a climax that nearly has you sobbing.)

[marloree]

hii could u do more hyuka pieces where theyre bffs and the reader isnt aware of his feelings/ cute confession stuff? hehe i love reading those slight angst + fluff pices :33 ty tyy

𝙸 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚎’𝚛𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚍𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 ‘𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎’ 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚘?

Pairing: bff! Huening Kai × Reader

Genre: fluff, romance, friends to lovers, slight angst if you squint, attempt at comedy/crack (?)

Word count: 0.94 k

A/N: thank you so so much for being my first request, whoever you are dear nonnie!! May your life be filled with love and happiness and may all your dreams come true ahh (sorry if I come off as a bit too excited hehe), and feel free to request more in the future if you want to! I hope this matches your expectations <33

Taglist: @babymochibeargyu (feel free to leave an ask/DM me to be added!)

You have been friends with Hyuka since elementary school. Maturing was difficult for both of you, but, despite being in numerous different friend groups and developing opposite interests, you stayed by each other's side through all these years.

Year by year, your bond grew only stronger. Both of you have gone through many hardships during the time, but it only drew you closer. You deemed each other as your comfort person. It really was true: you could vent and tell all your worries to Kai, just as he could do the same.

But, most importantly, you shared your happy moments, too. It was safe to say you two made what people call true friendship.

Or, so you thought it was only a friendship. Hyuka, unbeknownst to you, developed feelings far stronger and more intimate to be considered as just a friend's. A little crush he had on you in elementary now turned into something much bigger.

In Kai's eyes you were a perfect friend, a perfect person, everything he could ever dream of. But, would you feel the same way? The thought always was in the back of Huening's brain. And he, as any lover, wasn't so sure about this. The poor boy definitely didn't want to lose your friendship, but he couldn't completely shut down and bottle up his feelings, either. Especially since you didn't have a partner and, maybe, just maybe, you would feel the same way? Hyuka, despite his attempts to be realistic, always held that tiny hope.

What could be a better way to test the waters than try and gift you something? Of course, as your dear best friend, he would frequently make you presents for special occasions, but he hoped that a little extra gift here and there wouldn't hurt.

A pack of your favourite candies, a new set of pens since he always knew you lose yours, your favourite snack when you would feel down - such little gifts soon turned into another part of your friendship. You weren't completely oblivious to it, but Hyuka always was such a gentle and caring friend, there obviously were no other motives except his sweet and kind nature, or so you thought.

At first, Kai was even glad that you didn't catch on the reason for his gifts. But, as time went by, he couldn't help but wonder, were you really so clueless or was it your way of telling him you're not interested?

Well, you definitely were a little oblivious, even in Hyuka's opinion. You both were rather air-headed, so he couldn't blame you for the trait he himself possessed.

If not for you absent-mindedness, would you get to experience the fun of running as fast as you could to not get late to class since someone forgot to turn on their alarm or mixed the time, or doing the homework 5 minutes before the start of the class because someone was too busy dreaming in class to listen to the teacher?

You definitely would miss many hilarious and ridiculous moments if you both, or at least one out of you, were, or was, a bit more collected. In the end of the day, this is also something that drew you closer.

Hyuka now was in a quite difficult situation, not knowing whether he should cry or laugh at your obliviousness.

As the optimist he was, Huening tried his best to not lose hope and to do something useful instead. Since you were so clueless to gifts, Hyuka, gathering all his courage, decided to actually tell you about his feelings.

The next day, Kai dressed up and prepared some flowers specially for you. You both agreed to meet up at your usual spot. As Hyuka was wiping his sweaty hands with a handkerchief for the millionth time since his arrival, he finally saw you approaching.

Walking closer, you noticed the flowers, but the thought that these were for you never even crossed your mind. What a truly clueless creature you were...

Once you got close enough, Kai got up from the bench, stuffing the wet handkerchief in one of the pockets.

"Hi, Y/N...", his usually cheerful voice now sounded a bit quieter, carrying a certain amount of nervousness.

"Hii, Kai!!", you greeted back, happy to see him. But then something finally clicked in your head, making you realize the presence of the flowers and nervousness that was hanging in the air.

Your smile dropped, a hint of worry visible on your face. "Hey, Hyuka, did something happen? Did you have a bad date? Why do you look so out of the ordinary??"

Your sudden outburst of questions made the poor guy raise an eyebrow. "Sorry, what?" Kai looked so confused.

"Well, you've got these flowers and you look a bit upset, I thought maybe you had a date with someone (why wouldn't you tell me, though?) that didn't end well..."

"What!? Oh my, how could you even think of that," your explanation made Hyuka burst into uncontrollable laughter. "I wanted to confess to you, you silly clueless thing."

"What??" Now it was your turn to ask the question, your lips immediately parting in surprise. "Oh, as in..."

"As in I love you, silly."

It took you a good minute to process this new information; after realizing your mistake, you couldn't help but let out a giggle as well. "I actually love you, too. But how have I never noticed you feel the same way..."

"How have you noticed anything at all, that is the question", Kai chuckled, finally gifting you the flowers you initially thought were from a failed date.