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glossdebut · 17 days ago

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PRICE OF FAME | MYG ★ 01

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

✧ SERIES SUMMARY: You were about ready to give up, your career nowhere near what you dreamed it’d be when you started at eighteen, bright-eyed and naive. Reality for you these past few years has consisted of pouting at a camera, ignoring whispers of your name at company events, and ensuring that the stupid, tiny designer purses they keep forcing on you can at least carry a flask. But now, you’re helping a friend in need. For the first time in a long time, it feels like you’re doing something worthwhile with your life. Too bad Min Yoongi, the newest thorn in your side, seems insistent on stopping you.

✧ SERIES TAGS: enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, smut, fake/pretend relationship (not main couple), rockstar!yoongi, model!reader, guitarist yoongi, singer jungkook, bassist taehyung, drummer jimin, manager namjoon, yoongi & maknae line are in a rock band, reader & seokjin are best friends, yoongi & hoseok are best friends (sope duo ftw), yoongi has a tongue piercing, reader is a brat

✧ CHAPTER WARNINGS: recreational drinking, yoongi is an asshole (see series masterlist for series warnings)

✧ CHAPTER WORDCOUNT: 6.1k words

✧ AUTHOR’S NOTE: NEW ERA NEW ERA NEW ERA! whew!!! i’m excited for this one! this is going to be a loooong ride, so buckle up and enjoy! please note the slow burn tag on this one, because i’m not joking around with it. trust me, it’s going to hurt me just as much as it hurts you.

a HUGE thank you to tanni @yooniivrse for continuing to beta read for me <3 your commentary never fails to make me laugh and your edits save my life.

P.S. everything i know about the korean music industry is informed by my years as a kpop fan. i don’t know much about the rock scene there, so expect inaccuracies galore going forward. i do my due diligence where i can, but that can only help so much.

CH. 01: ALL YOU PEOPLE ARE VAMPIRES!

You aren’t entirely sure when you stopped feeling at home in places like this. There has to be some kind of defining event, some kind of indicator of The Before and The After, but every time you try and figure it out you come up short.

In The Before, not all that long ago, you would be scrounging for the bus fare rattling around in your pockets to get to a place like this as soon as you punched out from your shift at the Speedy Mart.

During your short stint in college, your friends didn’t understand your obsession. Music venues, to them, were fun for a weekend’s night out. The thrill of flashing a fake ID, of flirting with the musicians after their set, of getting said musicians to buy them drinks—it was a satisfying rebellion, a fun story to tell people at school and hide from their parents.

But you were there every day, even after classes and graveyard shifts under fluorescent lights, always racing to the nearest show without even changing out of your polo. It was never a rebellion to you. The lights, the thumping bass, the secondhand smoke—it made every nerve ending in your body light up.

You were born in this smoke, as far as you’re concerned.

Maybe it’s different now because it’s work to be here. But what isn’t work, these days? Your life is micromanaged down to the minutiae—the meals you eat, the products you use in your hair, your goddamn piss breaks. There’s no clocking out for you, no gasp of relief that comes after. Such is life for one of Seoul’s many playthings.

Even in the dead of winter, your stylist, Hyerin, has you in a dress that begs to be pulled down every five minutes like clockwork.

You learned a long time ago to bite your tongue on matters like this. The brands you work for pay you for the exposure you give them, after all. The chill that settles in your bones from the ten steps you take from your paid car to the venue door will be well worth it next time you count the zeroes in your bank account. At least, that’s what Hyerin told you as she pushed you out of the car and into the cold.

Wasteland looks the same as it did the very first night you ever stepped foot inside. Same red, glowing guitar sign above the entrance. Same shitty overpriced drinks. Same sticky floors. It’s nice that some things never change even when you do.

You’ve never been on the balcony, though. You’ve gotta hand it to Jeongguk—he’s really pulling out all the stops. To your knowledge, the balcony is normally reserved for VIPs. Close friends and family of the band, other celebrities, lucky and well-connected fans. Significant others. You suppose you fall under more than one of those categories now.

The crowd gathered on this side of the stage buzzes incessantly around you, waiting for the set to start. The excitement is palpable, and you understand why. It’s the very last show of Burn The Stage’s very first world tour following the release of their third studio album, and they’re ending it here: in Seoul. At Wasteland no less, the venue that housed the show that got them signed in the first place. Of course people are excited.

If you were the same person you were in The Before, you would be, too.

Instead, as the stage lights go down and the crowd roars around you, you down the rest of your drink and pray it’ll do its job and calm your fidgeting. For a split second, the thought that maybe you shouldn’t be drunk tonight passes through your brain, but it disappears as quickly as it comes. Your hopes of making a good first impression were squandered as soon as Hyerin zipped up your dress.

Besides, it’s not as if Jeongguk picked you for your shining reputation. More like the opposite.

With a flash of lights and a cacophony of sound, Burn The Stage launches into their first song on the setlist. The crowd roars around you, but you’re not here as a fan, so you try to remember everything Jeongguk taught you in preparation for tonight.

If you weren’t already close, most everything there is to learn about Jeon Jeongguk himself could easily be found with a simple Naver search.

Not only is Jeongguk the lead vocalist and rhythm guitarist of Burn The Stage, but he’s also the de facto face of the band, and he couldn’t be better suited for the job. He’s beautiful. Like, seriously beautiful. Well-built and knows it, sings songs about love and sex and anger with the sweetest voice known to man, covered in tattoos and piercings that eommas everywhere pretend to disapprove of when they’re actually ogling just as much as their daughters. He’s a teenage girl’s wet dream, and with that comes hordes of them using the deductive skills of the NIS to figure out the last time he took a shit. Very little in his life is a secret, whether he likes it or not.

The rest of the band, in turn, gets the luxury of a little bit of mystery.

Park Jimin, the drummer, and Kim Taehyung, the bassist. Jeongguk’s best friends in the world. You’ve met them both in passing before, at industry events here and there, and they both seemed nice enough.

Jimin has a bit of a reputation for being temperamental, angry, but the way Jeongguk describes him paints him as something gentle. Childhood friends who’ve known each other since scraped knees and runny noses.

It’s public knowledge that Jimin wanted to be a dancer, before this—that when he was in college, he suffered an injury that ended his dancing career before it even started. One moment he was one of the most promising ballet students in Seoul, and the next he was retired at nineteen. He doesn’t like to talk about it, but every time the band is interviewed the question is inevitably asked. Do you have any regrets? You’ve watched the videos, seen the way he shakes with anger even as he answers with a saccharine smile. You have a feeling getting along with Jimin won’t pose any challenges for you. You know a thing or two about regrets.

Taehyung is a bit harder to figure out, but not in any way that sparks concern. He’s just an interesting guy that way.

He was the last to join the band, the first to answer a ‘BASS PLAYER NEEDED’ ad posted around the city. Apparently, he was so good that they didn’t feel the need to call anyone else.

He lives in his own world, does his own thing. Posts very artistic photo dumps on his Instagram with concerningly cryptic captions. He’s quiet when he’s around people he doesn’t know, but when he’s put in a room with Jimin and Jeongguk he becomes the loudest person there. He’s kind, caring, always seems to know the right thing to say even if it’s delivered in the strangest manner possible.

Jimin and Taehyung won’t cause any problems for you. Jeongguk assured you that they’d be easy to win over, that as long as Jeongguk likes you, you’re in with them.

The real wild card is the guitarist. Min Yoongi.

According to Jeongguk, Burn The Stage wouldn’t even exist if it weren’t for Yoongi. When the band formed, they were just dumb kids with a shared dream, but Yoongi was the one to set it all in motion.

When they didn’t have anywhere to practice, Yoongi convinced the ajumma he worked for to let him cram as much equipment as he could fit into a tiny noraebang room. When venues wouldn’t book them without the guarantee that they would draw a crowd, Yoongi burned hundreds of CDs and stood on the streets of Hongdae begging people to listen. When shady entertainment companies started offering them laughable contracts, Yoongi found Namjoon and somehow convinced him to manage them for dirt cheap. When they finally got an offer worth taking, Yoongi made them mull it over for as long as they possibly could. Weigh the pros and cons and decide if it was what they really wanted.

If Jeongguk is the face of the band, Yoongi is the heart. Unfortunately for you, this particular heart is very well-guarded.

Yoongi takes his privacy seriously. He refuses to answer interview questions he deems too personal, he doesn’t use social media. When asked why, his answer is always that he wants the music to speak for him.

Because that’s another thing: every single song that Burn The Stage has ever released has been penned by Yoongi. To his credit, it’s kind of what they’re known for. His lyrics have a raw honesty to them that’s gotten the band into trouble more than once.

You finally tune into the show that’s unfolded below you, the words spilling from Jeongguk’s lips loud and clear in your ears now that you’re paying attention.

Well, I ain't got no dollar signs in my eyes That might be a surprise but it's true Said, "I'm not like you and I don't want your advice Or your praise or to move in the ways you do and I never will" 'Cause all you people are vampires And all your stories are stale And though you pretend to stand by us I know you're certain we'll fail

It’s rock music. It’s polarizing, controversial, edgy. Biting the hand that feeds them—especially in the eyes of the executives lining the band’s pockets, you’re sure. And yet everyone eats it up.

Still, Yoongi wouldn’t get away with half of it if he wasn’t attractive, you’re sure of it.

Because he is. Attractive. They all are, and he’s no exception. He checks all of the boxes annoyingly well. The long hair, the signature smirk, the little silver barbell on a tongue that he seems all too happy to flash at a moment’s notice. Too bad he seems like one of those pretentious, tortured artist types that take themselves way too seriously. That’s never done it for you.

Jeongguk is the one singing Yoongi’s words, and he might as well be Korea’s sweetheart—if it weren’t for all the tattoos. He conveys the message of Yoongi’s songs exactly as intended, but he doesn’t have to act like an egotistical gatekeeper to do it.

Maybe it’s a preference on your part. You’ve always had a thing for sweetness.

★ ★ ★

After the concert, you’re ushered off of the balcony by one of the band’s security guards. It’s the same guy who escorted you up when you arrived, and you note to yourself that he’s very polite. Eunwoo, according to his nametag.

It tracks, given Burn The Stage’s reputation for making sure the women at their concerts feel comfortable in the crowd. You’ve heard stories about them stopping mid-song to have handsy men kicked out, and it’s nice to know their commitment extends to the people they employ for themselves.

Eunwoo offers you his hand palm-up as you descend down the balcony stairs, and you take it with a grateful smile. You’re feeling wobbly in these shoes, and the drinks you’ve downed since your arrival aren’t helping matters. Even with the assistance, you still feel like a baby giraffe as you step down, but thanks to Eunwoo, you don’t eat shit.

Eunwoo dutifully guides you backstage, to a grimy, graffitied hallway housing the dressing rooms for Wasteland’s talent of the night. Jeongguk waits outside of one of them, guzzling down a bottle of water as a female staff member dabs sweat off of his forehead with a pristine white towel. She’s only there for a moment before slipping back through the dressing room door. Finally noticing your approach, Jeongguk turns his head and grins at you, and you feel your nerves ebb away instantly. He’s good at that.

As you get closer to Jeongguk, you turn to smile and nod at Eunwoo in thanks. He smiles back politely, wordlessly falling back to give you some privacy.

“Daaaamn, YN-ah,” Jeongguk says, whistling lowly as you reach him. “You’re going to cause a bloodbath in there.” He nods his head towards the dressing room door, and you roll your eyes despite the heat building in your cheeks.

“I know, I know,” you say, smoothing your hands over your dress. “It’s not exactly a meet-the-family outfit, but I didn’t have a choice.”

“Nah, it’s cool. You look hot,” he says, grabbing your hand and making you do a spin, forcing a surprised laugh out of you as you try not to trip over yourself. Jeongguk keeps you steady, though, with a hand on your shoulder. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you say, although you’re sure your face gives away how terrified you are of what awaits you on the other side of the door. “Maybe you should’ve picked an actress for this, though.”

“I trust you,” he says softly, squeezing your shoulder. “It’s not too late to back out, though. I’ll understand…”

You believe him, of course. Those doe eyes don’t lie, and even so, he’s already told you over and over how bad he feels for asking this of you. But you don’t want to back out. Jeongguk has given you so much since you’ve met—it’s only right to try and repay him for it.

“I want to do this,” you assure him, reaching up to squeeze his hand on your shoulder. “I’m just worried I won’t be able to pull it off.”

“You will,” Jeongguk says, smiling down at you warmly. “Don’t sweat it too much, okay? We’ve got this. It’s not like I have to pretend to like you.”

Right. You wish Jeongguk’s words did what they were meant to and instilled some kind of confidence in you, but what they actually do is make your chest ache uncomfortably. Pull yourself together, you think. Now’s not the time.

You smile good-naturedly, hoping Jeongguk doesn’t notice the way it doesn’t quite meet your eyes. “Let’s get this over with,” you mumble.

“That’s the spirit!” he laughs, sliding the hand on your shoulder around to the other one so his arm is slung around you. You hate the way your heart flutters, despite the fact that you’d prepared for this. Dumb bitch.

Jeongguk cracks the dressing room door open just enough to ensure that all of the men inside are decent, and then he’s guiding you inside, your hands flying down to smooth your dress over again, just in case.

The dressing room is bustling with more people than you expected, people you recognize from the balcony and staff alike. There’s a fast-paced rock song playing over a bluetooth speaker, almost loud enough to drown out the chatter.

Everyone seems to be in celebration mode after the last show of the tour. There’s a large sheet cake on a cart in the middle of the room emblazoned with the band members’ faces in frosting, plastic champagne flutes littered around the room in varying states of fullness. Judging by the bottle in his hand and the way staff members wipe at his face fussily, it seems like Taehyung took the liberty of pouring champagne over his head to cool off.

You’re used to having lots of eyes on you—it comes with the job—but something about the way Jeongguk’s bandmates immediately stop what they’re doing and take notice of your presence startles you, puts you on edge.

“Jeonggukie! You missed the cake,” Jimin calls, standing up from where he sat on the couch. He holds out a slice of the sheet cake to Jeongguk, tilting his head at you as he approaches. “Where do I know you from?”

Jeongguk removes his arm from your shoulders to take the plate, snorting at the image of his decapitated cake-head staring up at him. “Hyungs,” he says, grabbing a plastic fork and digging into the slice. “This is YLN YN.”

“Oh, we’ve met before! The model, right?” Taehyung pipes up from where he’s still being wiped down, and you nod politely. “I saw your Innisfree campaign last month. I couldn’t remember whether your skin was really that nice in person.”

You watch as he extricates himself from the staff, ignoring their protests as he walks away from them.

Taehyung gets close to you, close enough to inspect your pores like he clearly intends to, and you fight the urge to instantly recoil. Jeongguk seems too busy stuffing his face with cake to interfere, and you want to make a good first impression. So much for your personal bubble.

“It is,” he says, nodding sagely to himself.

“Th-thank you?” you stammer. Beside you, Jeongguk finally tunes back in.

“Jeez, hyung,” he says around a mouthful of cake. He chews for a moment, swallowing thickly before continuing. “Let her breathe.”

“Sorry,” Taehyung says sheepishly, backing out of your personal space, and you let go of a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding, shaking your head.

“It’s fine,” you say, mustering a polite smile.

You note that despite his initial (albeit subtle) acknowledgement of your existence when you walked in the door, Yoongi now seems entirely disinterested in interacting with you. He hasn’t moved from where he’s planted on the couch, focused intently on strumming his guitar. How he can even hear what he’s playing over the noise is beyond you. It’s not even plugged into an amp.

You’d be a little annoyed that he hasn’t even bothered to greet you, but you reason that he must be pretty worn out from all of the fanfare surrounding the show tonight. Introvert recognizes introvert. You try not to take it personally.

“Do you know Jeongguk-ah well?” Jimin asks, drawing your attention back to him. His eyes bounce between you and his bandmate. He seems to be putting the pieces together, so you glance at Jeongguk, wordlessly passing the question his way.

Thankfully, Jeongguk seems to get the hint. He tosses his plate in the nearest trash can before sliding over to you again, his arm slipping around your waist easily, betraying nothing.

“Hyungs,” he starts, glancing at you and nodding once. Let the show begin. “YN-ah is actually, um… my girlfriend.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Yoongi sit up. That got his attention, it seems.

A hush falls over the room, even the eyes of the staff members within earshot widening in response to Jeongguk’s announcement. Oh shit, you think. Please let this go well.

“Since when?” Taehyung asks, curiosity piqued. Thankfully, though, he doesn’t seem upset by the new information. At least, not as far as you can tell.

“Well, um,” Jeongguk starts, tonguing nervously at his lip ring. He pulls you closer so you’re practically curled against his chest now, and you silently pray that the way you’re looking at him reads as sweet and not like you’re about to jump out of your skin. “It’s actually been a few months now… Since right before the tour, actually.”

“Right before the tour?” Jimin asks, his brow furrowing in obvious confusion. “So you’ve been doing long distance?”

Jeongguk glances at you, a soft smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, it was bad timing on my part,” he says, his eyes fixed on yours. Damn. If he didn’t have such great pipes, you’d say he should’ve gone into acting. He’s male lead material. “I just couldn’t leave without telling her how I felt.”

You wish that you could do or say literally anything useful instead of just clinging to Jeongguk’s side like a barnacle. This is supposed to be a joint effort, but you feel frozen in place, unable to find your voice. It’s a good thing Jeongguk seems to be pulling it off all on his own.

“So cute,” Taehyung coos, bumping his shoulder against Jimin’s conspiratorially. “Our Jeonggukie’s all grown up and in love.”

“He’s always been a romantic,” Jimin joins in, miming at wiping fake tears as if he’s a proud parent. He reaches out and grabs your hands, startling you. “Please take care of him.”

“Hyuuuungs,” Jeongguk whines, tearing his arm away from you to whack Jimin and Taehyung on their heads simultaneously. “You’re going to scare her away!”

“Doubtful,” Yoongi says from where he’s still seated on the couch. Oh, so he does speak. It’s the first time you’ve heard his voice all night. It’s low, raspier in person than in the videos you’ve seen online. His words are directed at Jeongguk, but when you turn your head to look at him you find that his gaze is fixed on you. Your pulse spikes at the discovery. “I don’t think anything could scare her away from you, Guk-ah.”

The words themselves are innocuous, even supportive, but something about the way he says them makes your gut twist. Nobody else seems put off by it, but you can tell something’s not right. You have to say something, to open your mouth and speak. You have to pull this off, for Jeongguk.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say, forcing a smile. You manage to tear your gaze away from Yoongi, looking back at Jeongguk. He’s grinning down at you, and it’s real, even if the pretense of it isn’t. Your smile becomes a little less forced in return.

★ ★ ★

Jimin and Taehyung are insistent that you stick around and celebrate for a while, so you do. You end up enjoying yourself, despite the weird moment with Yoongi.

Jimin and Taehyung are fun to be around, just like Jeongguk said they would be, although conversation between the three of them becomes a little hard for you to follow sometimes. They just talk so fast.

They ask you questions about your job, your friends, your family. They also tease Jeongguk relentlessly in front of you and seem all too thrilled to find out that you’re their noona. You find it surprising how easily you open up to them, but it just… happens. Just like it did with Jeongguk when you first met.

You relax enough to convince yourself that your perceived pointed nature of Yoongi’s words earlier was all in your head. Surely, he couldn’t have a problem with you when he doesn’t even know you. Jeongguk told you himself that Yoongi’s a quiet guy. Maybe that was his own way of telling you he approves of you. He hasn’t said or done anything since to make you think otherwise. Granted, he hasn’t said or done anything, period.

Once he arrives, you meet Namjoon, Burn The Stage’s manager. Jeongguk told you a little bit about him, but it was mostly just thinly-veiled thirsting. Now you see why.

He clarifies right off the bat that he already knows who you are, which saves you the anxiety of having to go through the whole routine again, and then he apologizes for being late.

“I was talking to reporters. I wanted the guys to be able to celebrate without having to do any interviews,” he explains as he shakes your hand with a dimpled smile. Damn. Yeah, you don’t blame Jeongguk one bit.

After a while, the champagne catches up with you and you have to excuse yourself to the bathroom.

The staff member that was dabbing Jeongguk’s sweat earlier—Minji, you learn—directs you out of the dressing room and to the nearest women’s bathroom further down the hallway.

You try to make it as quick as possible, much tipsier than you thought and all the more unstable in these shoes because of it. After one last check of your hair and makeup in the mirror, you make your exit, focusing down at your feet as you go.

Unfortunately, you run headfirst into someone’s chest in the process. Hands come up to grab your elbows, steadying you before you fall flat on your face. For a second, you think maybe Minji had been waiting to escort you back to the dressing room, but these are not a woman’s hands holding you up. Wait a second, you think. You definitely saw these ring-clad fingers displayed on a huge screen earlier. Strumming at a guitar, perhaps?

In a moment of amazing mental clarity on your part considering the state you’re in, you realize that these are Min Yoongi’s hands, and your head snaps up to look up at him.

“Yoongi-ssi! I’m so sorry!” You quickly right yourself to the best of your ability, pressing your hand to the wall next to you for support.

Once he’s sure you can hold yourself up without his help, Yoongi instantly retracts his hands, crossing his arms over his chest. “I should’ve been looking where I was going,” you add, doing your best to bow in apology without losing your balance again.

Yoongi tilts his head at you as if he’s assessing you, his gaze inscrutable. Man, for a lyricist this guy isn’t big on words. You’re just about to politely say goodbye and head back to the dressing room when he finally speaks.

“I’ve spent the past hour trying to figure out what your angle could possibly be, but I’m coming up short.”

Um. What?

“Huh?” you manage, blinking at Yoongi like he’s suddenly grown a second head.

“It’s not like your career’s in any trouble. Nobody thinks you're Korea’s angel or anything, but your shit reputation hasn’t stopped you from getting brand deals,” Yoongi continues, scoffing to himself. “Are you just bored? Is this what you do to amuse yourself?”

Uh oh. He knows. He knows for sure, and even worse, he thinks that you’re the mastermind.

“I seriously have no idea what you’re talking about,” you say, forcing your voice to remain level. You don’t even try to defend your reputation. It’s not like he’s wrong.

“Right,” Yoongi says, leaning in a little closer, like he’s about to tell you a secret. “Well, a word of advice. If you want people to buy that you’re really in love with Jeongguk, you could try to look less like you’re going to throw up when he touches you.”

FUCK. You thought you pulled it off. You thought you pulled it off, and now here’s Jeongguk’s goddamn hero telling you point-blank that you didn’t. You wrack your brain trying to think of anything you could possibly say to defend yourself, to get this guy off your ass, because this cannot be your fault. You’d never forgive yourself.

“I—”

“Or,” Yoongi starts, cutting you off. “You could just cut the bullshit and leave Jeongguk alone.” He pauses, rubbing his chin as if he’s pretending to think about it and then nodding once. “Yeah, let’s go with that one.”

Jesus Christ he’s a piece of work. You feel your fists clench at your sides, your nails digging painfully into your palms. You just got your nails done, and there’s a strong possibility you’ll draw blood, but it’s all you can do not to strangle this asshole right here and leave Burn The Stage without a guitarist.

“Yoongi-ssi,” you say, your words dripping with fake politeness. Fuck this guy, actually. “I don’t know what I’ve done to give you such a bad impression of me, but I assure you that Jeongguk and I are very much in love.”

“How many times do I have to tell you I don’t buy it?” Yoongi asks, voice tinged with impatience. “You may have everyone else in that room fooled, but not me, and if you hurt Jeongguk I can guarantee it won’t end well for you.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” you snap. “Again, I don’t know what the fuck I’ve done to make you think so poorly of me, but I meant what I said in there. I’m not going anywhere.”

You need to remove yourself from this interaction right now before you do something stupid like burst into tears. You take the opportunity to push past Yoongi before he gets a chance to say anything else, making sure to essentially shoulder check him in the process because again, fuck this guy.

You stalk down the hallway, feeling much more sober now. It’s as if all of the alcohol got forcibly drained from your system in the face of total fucking disaster, and you’re honestly thankful for it, because the last thing you need is this asshole seeing you actually fall.

For a moment, you’re fooled into thinking you’d successfully ended the conversation, but of course he needs the last word.

“I know more about you than you think, dollface.”

Dollface? The fuck?

You chance a glance behind you and you immediately regret it. Yoongi leans against the wall where you left him, an amused smirk spread over his face, and the sight immediately fills you with dread, a type of primal panic you haven’t felt in four years flooding your senses.

He doesn’t… He couldn’t know about that. There’s no possible way. Jeongguk doesn’t even know about that. Nobody does, because you’ve done everything in your meager power to keep it that way.

You whip your head back around to face front, your heels clacking on the crusty linoleum beneath them as you continue down the hallway. Don’t look back, you think. He doesn’t know.

You’re thankful that you brought your bag with you to the bathroom, because you’re very much not in the mood for a party now. Once you’re safely outside, you call your car and send a text to Jeongguk explaining your sudden escape. You felt sick, you tell him.

It’s not like it’s a lie.

Yoongi loves being on stage.

Over the past few years, there’s been a noticeable change in his demeanor. He’s become passive, apathetic to the normal day-to-day that comes with being a celebrity. Nothing really wows him anymore.

He remembers the way he reacted to the accommodations the band received when they first got signed. He was way too scared to ask for things at first, but the label gave it all to him anyway.

For instance, Yoongi’s always been particular about his stationery. The first time he filled a notebook after getting signed, he didn’t even think to consider it a company expense. Why would he? He was fully capable of buying his own shit, even if he had to save up for it. Sure, every time he had to write a lyric down on the back of a receipt his eye would twitch, but it wasn’t anything he hadn’t done before.

But the label guys noticed. Before he even had a chance to buy his next batch of notebooks and pens, he was sat down in a spacious meeting room and asked point-blank what he needed. When Yoongi gave them specifics—Leuchtturm 1917 unlined hardcover pocket journals and a fuckton of Uni-Ball Jetstream Premier pens—they didn’t even bat an eye. When he—rightfully—warned them that he might strangle someone if he’s handed a gel pen instead of a ballpoint, they just assured him that wouldn’t happen.

Ever since then, there’s been an endless supply of exactly what he needs, always within reach. He’s still grateful for that, of course, because he goes through those fuckers fast. But it’s just a fact of his life now. It’s not special to get his fucking Leuchtturms anymore, not when he could douse his entire supply with gasoline and burn it on a whim and still have a fresh one in his hand within mere minutes.

And it’s not just journals and pens.

Namjoon is the band’s representative. Yoongi picked him personally long before there was any contract, or even hope for one, and if everything were to go to shit tomorrow, Namjoon would still be there. But after the single from their second album charted on the Billboard Hot 100, a label-equivalent to Namjoon was hired, as if anybody could ever be equivalent to Namjoon. Park Hyunseok. Park Hyunseok, whose sole duty is to buzz around Yoongi and his bandmates like a pesky fly and “make sure they’re happy.” They quite literally want for nothing.

Yoongi remembers when his skin used to buzz with the emotions simmering just under the surface. He was fiery in his youth, pissed off and ready to prove a point. He felt everything strongly, fully.

Not so much these days. Anger is only marketable for so long, or so he’s been told.

For the past year, Yoongi’s felt numb to the world. And he’s dealt with it, of course. That’s what he does. The album did great, the tour sold out, the boys are happy. That’s really all that matters. He just doesn’t know how he’s going to write another fucking album if he’s got nothing to write about anymore.

Still, he loves being on stage. There’s nothing like it. It never gets old, never gets boring. He still hasn’t gotten used to the feeling of stepping onstage and feeling a crowd scream his name, scream his lyrics right back at him. Lyrics to songs that he wrote in his shoebox apartment when he was eighteen and it felt like nobody gave a fuck about him. Funny how things change.

Nobody can take that feeling away from him, even if they’ve taken all the other ones.

It’s been a good night. It feels good to be back in Seoul after being away for months, feels even better to be on this particular stage again. Yoongi always feels keyed up after a good show, itching to do something with all of the energy thrumming through his body, and tonight is no different. He’s almost giddy with the opportunity to celebrate this tour with his bandmates and Namjoon and then go home and crash. Home. Fuck, it’s a good night. He has a hot date with his king size bed.

But then you.

It’s been years since you’ve even been a thought in Yoongi’s brain, and he liked it that way. Unfortunately, it’s apparently true what they say: all good things must come to an end.

Yoongi sees right through you. He's met so many of your type in his life that even if he hadn’t met you before he would’ve been able to sniff you out the second you walked backstage. Users. Social climbers. The bored and braindead looking for their next toy. The exact kind of person he’s been trying to protect Jeongguk from this whole time, and now you’re on his arm.

And whatever, a hookup is one thing. Yoongi frankly doesn’t give a fuck where Jeongguk decides to stick his dick. The less he knows the better on that front. But a relationship? No, it isn’t real. Yoongi knows that much. Maybe it is for Jeongguk, but not for you. He's never even heard Jeongguk, hopeless romantic extraordinaire, talk about you.

Jeongguk introduces you as his girlfriend, and suddenly it’s like Yoongi’s watching a car crash in slow motion. He prays that he’s not alone, that Jimin and Taehyung have caught on to your piss-poor acting skills—seriously, you look like you’re about to pass out—but it looks like Yoongi’s entirely alone on this one. You have them wrapped around your little finger with minimal effort. He has a feeling that comes as naturally to you as breathing.

Of course, Yoongi has the added displeasure of having met you before, way back when. When you had the chance to be somebody, before you pissed it away, to what? To pout in front of a camera for a living? He thought he’d run out of ways to be wrong about you four years ago, but clearly you just can’t help yourself.

And of course you don’t remember him. Why would you?

Yoongi knows Jeongguk better than anybody. He also knows that thing people say about teenagers is true. If you tell them not to do something, they’ll only want to do it more. Jeongguk may be a grown man now, but he’s stubborn as fuck, and he never grew out of that. If he goes to Jeongguk and flat-out tells him that his girlfriend is a piece of human garbage, Jeongguk will only date her harder.

He tries to control the infection at the source by confronting you directly, but it’s clear the fire that he thought you lacked is, in fact, there, if only to piss Yoongi off.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say.

Okay.

If that’s how you want to play, Yoongi can fucking play. He’s going to make you wish you’d left Jeongguk alone when he gave you the chance.

✧ shoot me a reply or an ask if you enjoyed this chapter! feedback is always appreciated <3 join my taglist if you want to be tagged in future fics!

✧ TAGLIST: @jajabro @pitchblack0309 @sugar-snap @ot72025 @ktownshizzle

@futuristicenemychaos @tea4sykes @sugainmybowl @namjoonsbuspass @wobblewobble822

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sitp-recs · 11 months ago

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My AO3 Wrapped: Drarry Recs

This year I’ve embraced a change of pace and read way less than I intended to. This made me feel a bit disconnected from fandom but also allowed me to put this list together in record time so let’s not complain too much 😂 this is shorter and lacking my usual commentary but I didn’t want to break the tradition of sharing my fave reads of the year! Be it for their creativity or peak romance, these 16 amazing fics made my heart beat faster and got me even more in love with Drarry. I’ve read most of them in the first half of the year and it was interesting to see so many fics over 40k, as my usual sweet spot is 10k - 20k. I love the mix of tropes featured here and am very excited to rec authors I’m reading for the first time. ps: I haven’t included any Erised fics since the fest is still ongoing.

Thank you dear creators for sharing so many brilliant works with us this year! 2023 wasn’t my best year fandom-wise, but life has been so generous in other areas that I can’t help but feel humbled today. I wish everyone a lovely start to the new year! As always, please mind the tags and take some time to shower these authors with the appreciation they deserve. Oh, and stay tuned for a rare pair list sometime soon ;)

🍆 Snug by @moonflower-rose (E, 6k)

8th year | touch-starved Harry | soft cock kink

Potter can't keep his hands off himself. Draco can't look away.

🧩 Muscle Memory by @corvuscrowned (E, 8k)

curse breaking | partners to lovers | memory magic

There's something just beneath the surface, just at the periphery of Harry's mind. They've been here before — they've done this before. If only he could remember it.

👹 draco malfoy's substitute murder service by @oknowkiss (E, 10k)

odd jobs | D/s undertones | open ending

When Harry joins the Curse Breakers shortly after his twenty-fifth birthday, he’s surprised to find himself assigned to the Department of Creatures, Cryptids, and Associated Calamities.

🏰 the earth from a distance by spqr (E, 15k)

time travel | Wizarding history | only one bed

“Well,” Harry said gamely, once they’d managed to find the Leaky Cauldron – still under construction but mercifully open for business – and he’d turned up a few knuts from his pockets, enough to get them a room for the night, “it could be worse.”

🎚️ O Come, All Ye Faithful by @toomuchplor (E, 20k)

vicar Draco | established relationship | Church of England

Aunt Petunia died, that was what began everything. Or rather, Aunt Petunia was dying. In the act of dying. In which Draco finds faith in the church, and Harry finds faith in Draco.

🎄 Waking Up Slow by @sweet-s0rr0w and @ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm (E, 22k)

shop owner Draco | summer romance | light angst

'Twas the night before Christmas, although it’s July / Draco’s a shopkeeper, no-one knows why / There’s hiking and witch caves, freak snowfalls and more / Bad Christmas jumpers, nosy neighbours galore / Narcissa’s here too, but… something’s amiss / And what’s in those chocolates that’s making them kiss?

🚬 Sun Thief by @floydig and BlackRose532 (E, 28k)

slice of life | fast sexual burn | dark humour

It’s 2005, and Draco Malfoy says, “Fuck the Ministry,” Harry works as a handyman in muggle London, and Draco should really stop pissing off the Squib gangs.

🍷 Winner Takes It All by @skeptiquewrites (E, 41k)

break up make up | down & out Draco | hurt/comfort

As with all his friends’ wagers, it starts small. Fifty Galleons for one kiss from Harry Potter is easily done.

🏖️ LA, Who Am I To Love You? by @epitomereally (E, 42k)

Draco in the Muggle World | pining Harry | recreational drug use

Harry’s summer in LA is not going as expected. Pansy Parkinson keeps inviting him to parties in the Hollywood Hills and harassing him to finally go to the physical therapist, Blaise Zabini keeps slipping new strains of his company’s magical weed into Harry’s pockets in hopes of an endorsement, and Draco Malfoy keeps having sex with everyone but Harry.

🫃Shine On, You Crazy Diamond by @lagerloutfic (E, 42k)

fwb to lovers | gay awakening (Harry) | mpreg (Draco)

Harry has probably always wanted Draco, it just took him a few years to figure that out. A story about the joy of discovering exactly who you are and how easy it can be once you do.

🚣‍♀️ Our Objective Remains Unchanged by @citrusses (E, 46k)

rowing AU | enemies to lovers | university setting

Harry Potter, returning member of the Oxford University Boat Club, has two goals for the spring of 2005: beat Cambridge, and beat Draco Malfoy. Perhaps not in that order.

🧶 Polar Night/Midnight Sun by @toomuchplor (E, 54k)

cabin fic | wintery vibes | only one bed

Harry travels to arctic Norway on the trail of dragon egg poachers, only to find he's been assigned to work alongside the only NorMagPol Auror north of sixty: one Draco Malfoy.

🎩 Nights With You by @the-sinking-ship (E, 58k)

holiday fic | fake relationship | mutual pining

Draco is mortified when moments prior to departing for the most anticipated destination wedding of the year, he is cruelly dumped. But when he learns that Harry Potter has, at long last, split with his horrible boyfriend, Draco is certain his luck has changed.

👮🏻‍♂️Rookie Moves + Again And More So by peu_a_peu (E, 75k)

auror partners | slow burn | humour

Aurors Potter and Malfoy crack the case.

🖼️ where all the veins meet by @saxamophone (E, 146k)

sad bois | Grimmauld Place | found family | 8th year

It's the summer of 1998. The battle is over, and Voldemort is dead, but Harry still has more questions than answers. Who is he without a piece of Voldemort's soul in his head? What is he supposed to do now?

📼 Always Already by @aibidil (E, 170k)

time travel | forced proximity | mutual pining

Harry and Draco are perfectly fine, separately minding their business in 2004, when the Unspeakables conscript them into service... in the First War against Voldemort.

#ao3 wrapped 2023 #drarry #Sitp faves

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myosotisa · 1 year ago

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Sex, Love, and Other Crazy Ideas - s.h.

ǁ summary: Steve has always felt like he loves too much. Sometimes it scares him. But it doesn't scare you.

ǁ tags: smut. plot with descriptions of smut. kinda dark!Steve?? obsessive thoughts, possessive behavior, unhealthy attachment, but it's consenual. you accidentally cut your finger, so blood is mentioned. oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v, creampie, hickies galore, body worship, a small amount of bloodplay. no pronouns, no y/n, afab!reader, nickname for you is sweetheart. I... have no reasonable explanation for this. I don't even know what to say. Happy Sunday I guess

ǁ word count: 1.6k

The intensity of love had always been overwhelming to Steve Harrington.

They say love can make you do crazy things. Like throwing yourself in front of someone to protect them. Like a spouse doing something they dislike every day because they know their partner appreciates it. Like a mom suddenly finding the strength to move a car to save her child.

Love made Steve a protective, caring, possessive man.

Most of it was shown through his actions. Acting as a chauffeur for Robin and all the teens he "babysits." Going out of his way to help someone, especially if they are having a bad day. Planning small events for the people he is closest to, so they can all get together and have a good time.

But when you came along, it felt different.

You were kind, selfless, understanding. Compassionate and empathetic, sometimes to your own detriment. At first you actively resisted Steve's desire to wait on you hand and foot, but had learned to accept that it killed him to reject the affection. You told him time and time again that he didn't have to do all these things for you, that you just loved him for who he was. He told you that was just how he showed he loved you too.

Sometimes the intensity of his love for you turned sour. He had a jealous streak – could be paranoid about the intentions of people he didn't know that were with you. He never forced you away from people or kept you from events. Just kept a watchful eye and a mental note, sometimes sought reassurance that you were his and only his, and made sure no one ever got even close to hurting you.

He bought you a little necklace with his initials. Was nervous as hell to give it to you, worried about what you might think. But you were delighted, ecstatic even, and had started to wear it everyday. Even talked about getting him a chain or a bracelet that had your initials on it too.

That night he'd made you come you over and over again until you passed out from exhaustion. Had fucked you into sweet oblivion. And the whole time, that necklace slid across your skin. The only thing you wore. That little piece of metal that said you were his.

He'd fidget it with it sometimes – fixing the chain so the clasp was behind your neck, rubbing the S between the tips of his fingers absentmindedly when you sat in his lap. You thought it was cute. Enjoyed the feeling of being his and how proud he was to be yours.

Sometimes the intensity of his love for you overwhelmed him. He wanted nothing more than to keep you in his bed forever, 24/7 spent with your skin on his. Wrapped up tight in his arms, or your thighs trembling as they pressed into his ears, or his cock buried deep in your warm, wet, perfect pussy until the end of time.

It wasn't a realistic thing to want, of course. But a man could dream.

And he dreamed often. Fucking you until you passed out every night you would let him. Waking up from a dream about you that had him sliding under the sheets, parting your beautiful thighs, and worshipping you awake. Begging you to let him taste you, sometimes on his fucking knees, steady and loving hands squeezing at your waist and hips as he pleaded.

You hardly ever denied him. Tried your hardest to take care of him in return, even when he insisted he wanted nothing more than to make you feel good.

After too many times having to go out into the world with a mosaic of bruises along both sides of your throat, you'd had to put some boundaries up. No hickies in visible places. He'd whined and tried to bargain but you were steadfast.

Fine. He'd litter you with little loving bruises in spots only he would be able to see. Scarlet paintings along your thighs, your collarbones, your tits.

One night, he'd already been sucking and biting bruises into your skin for what felt like hours. Determined to turn your skin into a constellation of pink, red, and purple with his mouth. A devotee that wanted nothing more than to worship every inch of you.

He was hyper focused on a spot on your chest – drawing the skin between his teeth and then soothing it with his tongue. Over and over as blood drew closer to the surface, warming as the blood vessels popped and the mark bloomed.

It was like he could feel your heart beating beneath his lips, like maybe if he used his teeth in just the right way, he could break the surface of your skin. Free some of the blood from your veins, the very life force of your being, and consume it until the wound stops bleeding.

He didn't want to hurt you. No, never wanted to hurt you. But the idea of consuming you, of possessing you so thoroughly, made it seem like a little bit of pain might not be so bad.

It was not an urge he ever acted on. Scared of scaring you, scared of what it meant that he wanted to do that. But he just couldn't help it. He loved you so much that he didn't quite know what to do with himself. It was like he wanted to live beside you at every moment, live inside you. He wanted to crawl under your skin and stay there permanently, or maybe have you crawl under his instead.

The need to possess you entirely sometimes made him act without thinking.

He heard a surprised gasp from the kitchen, followed by a pained hiss. It took mere moments to reach your side, ready to protect you, to make sure you were safe. The kitchen knife was abandoned on the cutting board, your hand cradled to your chest.

"Lemme see, sweetheart," he held out his loving hands with concern. You gingerly showed him the wound – a clean slice on the tip of your index finger. Not too deep, nothing too dangerous, but enough that it was steadily leaking blood on your skin. "Let's go get you cleaned up, okay?"

And you nodded, allowing him to lead you to the bathroom, standing dutifully by as he procured the first aid kit from beneath the sink. He gently took your hand in his own, marveled at the feeling of your skin on his, at the difference in your hands. Still enough to distract him after all this time.

But you were in pain, maybe even a little scared, and he had to focus.

After warning you that it might sting a little, he carefully cleaned the wound, cooing apologies and murmuring how good you were doing as you winced and tried not to pull away from it. Once he was satisfied, he went to retrieve a bandage but was stopped short when he turned back to look at you.

You were looking up at him with reverence, with comfort, with love. Like he was all you wanted and more. Like he was the only one who you trusted to make you feel better, like he was the only one who could heal you.

His breathing hitched in his chest. You were looking up at him with pleading, devoted, wide eyes, your cut had started to bleed just a little bit again in his hands, and he was struck with the overwhelming urge to swallow you whole.

To consume you – body and soul.

He didn't think before he brought your hurt finger up to his lips. At first he pressed a gentle kiss to the wound, loving and apologetic for the pain you had endured. When you melted into a sweet, syrupy smile, and when he licked at his lips and tasted just a touch of iron, he took the tip of your finger into his mouth and sucked.

You gasped, eyes wide and lips parted. He held your finger there, gently, and searched your face for some sign of concern or maybe even disgust. Surprise was there, plain as day, but nothing that looked negative. You didn't pull away, didn't move, barely breathed.

Experimentally, he laved his tongue over the wound. Bursts of metallic blood spreading across his taste buds as he did so. And he thought maybe he was hearing things when you whimpered.

When you made that noise again, his cock throbbed so hard in his jeans he thought he might've spontaneously came in his pants.

And while you had questions, and he had just a little bit of shame circling in his thoughts, it didn't matter right now. Not as he let your finger fall from his mouth, lifted you up onto the edge of the bathroom counter, and fell to his knees between your thighs like a man possessed.

In the following hours, dinner long forgotten, he took you apart thread by thread. Made your body shiver, shake, and seize. Praised you, lovingly degraded you, claimed you, pleaded for you to scream his name. Filled you to the brim with his cum, used his fingers to fuck it back into you until he was ready to go again. Which never took long, not with how you looked up at him like he hung the moon and stars in the sky.

That night, he broke his record for the amount of orgasms he had given you in a single day. And still held you as you passed out in his arms and felt an itch beneath his skin that begged for more.

thanks for reading! please reblog and leave a comment if you liked it, they mean the world to me <3

and yes, I will be bringing this up in therapy tomorrow

#steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington blurbs #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #dark!steve harrington #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington oneshot #myos ideas #myo4harrington

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curioussubjects · 16 days ago

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I just finished Veilguard, and...I'm really not sure how I feel about it?

All in all: good game, had fun, but still didn't quite hit some of the highs it wanted to hit and it's still not as good as DA2

(Spoilers galore below for everything)

The Good:

Pretty game is pretty;

Love the codexes, especially the ones written by companions or with their commentary;

Speaking of, the Mementos had so excellent tid bits of lore flavor to them, as well;

Regrets of the Dread Wolf was a damn good quest;

Some truly funny party banter;

I actually thought it was really easy to figure out who my Rook is as I played the game, which was much harder for me to do for my Lavellan in DAI;

And speaking of Lavellan, she was in character she WOULD say that she WOULD do that. Bless;

Everything about Nevarra and the Mourn Watch, I wish there was more content there because I was so into it;

Orb and dagger mage is really fun to play, which was VERY surprising considering I don't play close range ever;

I also really enjoyed destroying blight boils for some reason lmao;

Petting cats (they PURR WHEN YOU DO);

Assan <3;

Taash being so autistic;

Teia and Viago my beloveds;

✨Friendship✨

The Solavellan of it all;

And Solas, too. Love that sadsack disaster man;

Maybe this is super basic of me but I liked Varric's narration...idk it's comforting;

Honestly, just Varric in general was a bit safety blanket in a nice way for me because the game feels overwhelming at first;

There's no party like an all Dalish party!

Exploring -- loved finding all the fun details in each location, and I know I didn't even do enough in my playthrough;

I'm weak for stories about guilt, fear and regret. And I'm even weaker when those stories are so obviously about forgiveness and moving forward. Also love. Always love.

The Bad:

The pacing. I've said this before but DAtV could've used a more explicit arc structure or have quests note which level they're meant for or SOMETHING because some times it seemed I was doing quests too early or too late for when I was in the main story. I also thought events kept oscillating from happening too fast or too slowly, and it very much did get in the way of immersion;

The romance. Literally what are you doing Dragon Age that you fumble the romance. Granted, I only romanced Davrin so far, but I'm getting the sense from looking through the tag that maybe Lucanis' romance also feels a bit off? Honestly I have so many issues with the romance progression for Davrin that it's its own section;

I hope this is only a Veil Jumpers issue, but I thought Rook was so separate from the faction. I felt very little connection to them;

I've seen some people point out NPCs talk to Rook like they're a child, and while I don't really agree with that I do think Rook doesn't have enough opportunities to be knowledgeable in their own right. Especially annoying with a mage Veil Jumper Rook! I miss the Inquisition perk dialogue options that let my Lavellan be a smarty pants;

Holy overdesigned armors! Yikes!

Not all areas are as well developed as the others: Rivain is the most egregiously empty and underdeveloped, but I actually thought Arlathan Forest was super lifeless too. So was the Lighthouse! You get the early game discovery bit and then nothing ever again and it's like oh that was really it huh (and the stuff we did get was so good please more?);

I hate to say this but BioWare missed the mark with Rook's place in the group. The companions seemed connected to each other, yeah, but Rook was like some cross between group therapist and not-so-undercover boss. There was none of the warmth Hawke got from their companions (or the Inquisitor, for that matter!). The game really needed 1. a lighthearted party hangout cutscene and 2. companions coming together to take care of Rook (the fact this isn't even a thing in the romance is bonkers to me);

Taash's personal quest being about choosing between being Rivain and Qunari as if that's how culture works is Bad Actually;

The worst minimap I've ever seen in a game wow;

Also: give me back my beacon marker;

The gods were in a regret prison but what were their regrets exactly we just don't know.

The Bad (Romance Edition):

Again, the pacing! Incredibly slow to start (and not in a slow burn way, mind!) and then super fast in the last third of the game;

In fact, the romance seemed to be running on a completely different level than the rest of the story. The last romance scene was incredibly out of place tonally, especially.

The first two romance titles for Davrin are "Thrill of the Chase" and "Hot and Bothered"...and like WHERE????

Davrin never writes about Rook as a romantic partner or as if he has any concerns with the relationship...which we later find out he has, but was news to me;

Tbh, the romance felt like an afterthought. There were cutscenes that in any other DA game there would've been flirting options, for instance, but this time there was nothing (what do you mean Rook can't make a flirty comment when Davrin is shirtless working out with Taash? It's low hanging fruit!);

Not nearly enough flirty banter between Rook and Davrin, which is nuts considering their personalities;

I'm really super disappointed with Davrin's romance, which sucks because he's actually perfect for my Rook and I really like his character. There was so much potential for a really fun romance that was both tense and sexy, but also sweet. But no. Secret good Davrin romance that exists in my head save me.

The ???:

Southern Thedas got scorched when the North didn't how?

Please tell me who was catfishing Andraste;

Making enemies super aggro on Rook unless you specifically have companions taunting was very weird.

#dragon age the veilguard #datv spoilers #datv #dragon age #ok there were many thoughts #but they're bullet points it's fine #the lists are also not comprehensible or in any particular order #i think im closer to figuring out why the game isnt quite working for me though #there's just something fundamental missing that i havent been able to put my finger on just yet

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astorythatwritesitself · 7 months ago

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Survivor's Guilt

Read on AO3!

Title: Survivor's Guilt Fandom: Mass Effect Rating: T Length: 2,634 Content notes: Xenophobic (as applied to non-human ME species) rhetoric, general Cerberus bullshittery, Poor Parenting I guess? Summary: A general, an ambassador, and a commander walk into a bar to discuss the most important part of any tragedy: How will this look to the wider galactic scene?

Characters: Hannah Shepard, Donnel Udina, Original Human Character(s)

Tags: Cerberus (Mass Effect), Akuze (Mass Effect), I feel Hannah's whole... Deal here needs a CW but fuck if I know how to describe it, Contempt for your kid? Xenophobia?

Addy's fighting for her life, and I'm raiding the bar in a fucking penthouse.

The situation will be what it is either way, though, so why bother facing it sober? Hannah snatches up a good-looking bourbon and considers the glasses neatly lined up along the counter.

Donnel and Sandra walk in to her taking a swig straight from the bottle.

“Is this… necessary, Shepard?” Don says, while the General takes the nearest stool and buries her face in her hands.

“Oh, absolutely, Ambassador,” Hannah says with a sharp laugh. “We've lost a colony. We've lost a lot of good soldiers, and the one we have left is-”

“Would you care to share, Hannah?” Sandra says, mostly drowning out Don's muttering of something to the effect of ‘political nightmare’.

“Get your own. It's not your kid patched up like a quarian ship out there, is it?”

Her eyes sting.

Her throat burns.

It's just the alcohol, Hannah tells herself.

For a few moments there's nothing but the sounds of Hannah rummaging for a glass and some ice, while Sandra pours herself a healthy dose of wine. Don opts for a bottle of water. Hannah considers doing the same - should do the same, she’s not exactly young anymore, even the one pull there means a hell of a headache awaits her tomorrow.

This entire month has been headache enough already. Raids and pirates and smugglers galore, the Council giving humanity the shaft yet again by refusing to allot the barest of resources, refusing any allowance for more troops in this sector or that one - but being ever so eager to allow the Alliance to push forward on some new class of ship, so long as those plucked-chicken shits were involved in every step, and now -

Hannah pours a double shot and downs it like the crap she used to smuggle onto campus back in Kingston, pointedly ignoring how much of it ends up on her sleeve as she pours one more.

It's Don who finally breaks the silence. “How do we even begin to approach something like this?” he says. The calm in his voice is borderline offensive.

“Carefully?” Sandra replies, removing her glasses and pinching the bridge of her nose. “We start from the top -”

“We lost a colony,” Don shoots back. “That's bad enough - we could have recovered from that. Even the asari have lost colonies in the Traverse. Losing so many soldiers on top of it-”

“To threshers. Everyone is afraid of those things-”

“Which is precisely why they know to look out for them!” Don storms forward, slamming a fist on the countertop, hard enough to make the ice rattle in Hannah's glass. “To avoid them! While we, instead, build a town on top of a nest, without having the slightest idea of their presence! How on Earth must that look?”

God, is that all it's ever going to come back to? Hannah thinks, taking a slow sip and rubbing her temples as Don and Sandra continue bickering. Image - it always comes back to the image. She'd joined the Alliance to advance humanity and leave a legacy to the stars. Joined with the C's after Shanxi turned those dreams into a nightmare of survival, stayed on as they became Cerberus, because it was clear the Alliance wouldn't do enough, not when it could make them look bad to some glorified animals who'd happened to get their first. Days and weeks and years of bureaucratic bullshit, while innocent people got rounded up and branded and sold like cattle-

And yet here you are, sitting pretty in the PR department after all, she thinks, closing her eyes. The other projects advanced humanity, but here were the lucky bastards who had to make sure they looked good doing it; two Alliance grunts and a politician who'd made Hannah genuinely consider snorting her weight in red sand, just to flip him upside down and see if that'd shut him up for a few minutes.

“Do you have anything to contribute, Shepard?”

Speak of the goddamned devil.

“Oh, I think I've contributed plenty to the situation already,” Hannah says through a wretched sort of smile, one that only grows as Donnel's expression sours further.

Sandra, meanwhile, has started pacing. “No matter what, we need to do some damage control - we're not going to come out of this looking good, but something like this could absolutely tank colony enrollment, among other things. Could go as low as after Mindoir. Lower, even, this is the second major hit inside of two years…”

“Exactly. Why in god's name would anyone even want to be a colonist at this point?” Hannah snorts. “Leave the comforts of Sol for a rural pisswater that makes Earth's slums look luxurious in comparison, and if you're lucky, you can assist smugglers and pirates for a few credits! Lord knows the Alliance can't help you, we're spread so thin we can barely hold ourselves together; and the Council won't help us, because god forbid they take some responsibility for bombarding a new species who had no idea they had stumbled into someone else's backyard. Now they tell us we can't make so many ships, can't go here or there without risking interstellar incident; but oh, we're useful guns to take out their fucking four-eyed problems, so they dangle just enough help until the Alliance is in too deep to actually pull out, and we're too damn scared to say fuck them all and strike out on our own.”

“That would be suicide at this point, anyway,” Sandra says, shaking her head. “That's why we need someone in their ranks - they've got a millennia’s head start, but that's all they have on us- god.” She rubs her forehead and leans against the wall. “Can we just blame Anderson for this?”

“Get in line,” Hannah mutters, glancing over at Donnel, who looks rather like he's chewing his own tongue for a moment.

“His being a Spectre wouldn't have made a difference in this situation,” he finally says.

“Might've. Fourteen years is a long time - we could have more weight in decisions. More information. Even if the Alliance's general standing didn't increase, we could have sent him - or another one; I imagine if he'd succeeded, we'd have at least one more by now - in alone, instead of an inexperienced lot-”

“With all due respect, ma'am, shut the fuck up. You know damn well we wouldn't have sent a Spectre even if we had one,” Hannah snaps, raking a hand through her hair. “Yes, the colony went dark, but how the fuck were we supposed to know what was down there? Akuze has never even been targeted by pirates, it was supposed t-” Her breath hitches, and for a moment her voice won't work, and when it does, it's so quiet, there's no hiding how it shakes. “It was supposed to be safe, goddamn it.”

All those families. All those kids.

It's too long before Sandra speaks up again, and Hannah nearly misses the words anyway. Too busy trying to tally up all the names.

“You raise a fair point, Shepard,” the general says in a measured, thoughtful sort of voice. “Udina - you're also right, everyone else knows to keep away from the threshers. That's… likely why Akuze was so quiet, now that I think about it. But do we know what to look for? From orbit, or on the ground? Could we have prevented it in the first place?”

“The most I've ever heard is to be suspicious of flat circles,” Hannah shrugs. “Nothing about how to detect them from orbit, god no. Seismic readings are the most we can get for any lead time.”

“Both the settlement and the unit's camp were on a hill, correct?”

“Yeah.”

“Then we'll work with that,” Sandra says briskly. “It's not much, but it is honest - we genuinely had no idea what to be wary of, and if anyone else did have any clue… well, clearly, they didn't think we needed to know.”

“A tragedy,” Don says, and Hannah wants to throw the watered-down remains of her drink in his face at that tone, that smarmy, holier-than-thou tone all politicians got. “A tragic, fatal mistake. The Alliance, naturally, will do all in its power to prevent such another lapse of information - but will the Council do its part? Will they deign to share their knowledge with the newest additions to the galactic community, or will they show that they simply want us out of the way?” He sighs, shaking his head. “It's as good a start as any, I suppose.”

“Might wanna omit that last part for the masses, but cheers otherwise,” Hannah says, forcing herself to down most of what remained in her glass.

“Then, the next matter-”

Oh, motherfucker, you’d better not-

“Shepard. Do we know yet, if she will pull through?”

“Adrian's stable. It looks like the grafts should take,” Hannah says, staring into her glass and gripping it far tighter than is necessary. Deep, slow breaths, she tells herself, but god it's hard to do that and conjure up her husband's voice as he'd rattled off the assessment. “Damage was. Mild, all things considered. Deepest injuries were to her head and neck, but nothing debilitating, nothing some weaves and metal can't patch up. She inhaled some of it, even, but they're pretty sure she'll be able to breathe on her own, once they can take her off the sedatives, doesn't appear to be any irreparable damage. Just some scarring to her throat.

“By current projection - if there are no surprises, she should be physically fit within a month. Isn’t that lucky? But it's only three days in, who knows what the aftereffects could be? We barely know how to detect those things, much less what happens if anyone survives.”

She stares into the glass, into her own murky reflection, trying to shut out Don's relieved sigh. Trying to shut out the question she knows is coming, trying to shut out the subsequent thought, because it is such a terrible, hideous thing, but -

“Do either of you have any idea what will come down, then?” he asks.

God, it would just be so much easier, if Addy had died as well.

“Still in the air.” Sandra at least has the grace to sound somber. “The reports are still… I'm still going over the data, as it were, and discounting Shepard herself, the three of us are the only ones who know the exact… circumstances…”

“Oh, just fucking spit it out. It looks like Adrian fell asleep on her watch, and then abandoned her fucking unit to the worms, is that so goddamn hard to say?”

“But she did send the distress call before they surfaced-”

“Oh yeah, a whole two minutes before; if she'd been awake and paying attention-"

“- and who in their right mind would blame anyone for running in those conditions? We have provisions for extraordinary, unprecedented, or unforeseen circumstances-”

“Which is great for avoiding a court-martial, but how the fuck is that going to sound to those freaks who've been watching her?!” Hannah pounds the countertop, just barely resisting the urge to shatter the glass instead; god but she just wants to see something break.

Don sinks onto the stool beside her. Slowly, fucking primly, he takes another glass and the bottle, pouring out a drink with shaking hands.

“Fourteen years,” he finally says, barely more than a whisper. “Fourteen years before they even thought to give us another chance. Shepard was our best hope, now…”

Now we're lucky if we get one in our lifetimes, Hannah thinks. The alcohol's finally working, it seems, because the thought conjures nothing but a numb, detached disappointment. At the situation, yes - but mostly, (and she's less loath to admit this to herself) at Adrian. The only child she'd ever have, and goddamn blessed - sturdy, smart, strong. Stellar aim. A human biotic who could make some true use of the skills, and what did she do with it? Tech, medicine and diplomacy; thank god she'd at least found the idea of sabotage as interesting as negotiation, enough to accept those invitations to the villa-

God. Would that still continue, after this?

“Shepard is our best candidate,” Sandra says. The words almost echo, the silence had been so complete. “She saved those aliens during Elysium, when their own kind were willing to let them be collateral damage, the Council loved that. The exact details of Akuze can be sealed - the important question is, would she say anything?”

Hannah closes her eyes, considering - Adrian could be so goddamn stubborn sometimes, but… “I don't think so,” she says. “I’m not positive - but I'm fairly sure, especially if I can talk to her when she wakes up.”

“If she can keep this quiet, then so will the Alliance,” Sandra says. “No demerits. N training remains open. We treat this as nothing more than the tragedy it is. We had no way of knowing the worms were there. There was no time to evacuate, they struck before she could distinguish them from an errant tremor. Circumstances being what they were, Shepard made a call no officer should ever make, let alone one so new to the position, and it ensured there was a survivor to even tell the tale.” The general nods, almost smiling now. “We could even play this nicely to the Council species - at the Alliance's expense, unfortunately, but personally I'd rather one of ours among their ranks, get us into shaping policy instead of being shaped by it. The asari will patronize us no matter what, so why not use that? Shepard's barely more than an infant so far as they're concerned, let them pity her. The salarians might have some respect if we frame it as a tactical retreat, they're always criticizing our refusal to admit defeat.”

“And the turians?” Don asks.

“Oh they'll blame the Alliance no matter what,” Hannah says, surprising even herself with a downright chipper tone. “Hell, we could tell them the whole thing down to the last detail, and those idiots wouldn't put any of the blame on Adrian either way. It's always on the superior officers for not knowing if a recruit isn't ready - now how in the fuck are you supposed to know that before put them out there?”

“Correct, if not the most… eloquently put,” Sandra says, narrowing her eyes slightly as they meet Hannah's. “The Alliance takes the brunt of the blame, and Shepard… well. Everyone's afraid of the thresher maws - even batarians, even the krogan. Yet here's one of ours, alive and fairly well in the grand scheme of things, after being ambushed by a nest of them… quite the angle, isn't it?”

“I suppose,” Don says, though his expression still looks grim. “This is, of course, assuming Shepard recovers, and that she's found mentally sound - “

“This isn’t gonna break my kid, Christ,” Hannah says, heedless of how the words begin to run into each other.

“- what's to say this won’t happen again?”

“I might’ve raised a fool, Donnel, but I didn't raise an idiot.” Hannah pushes away from the counter, getting unsteadily to her feet. It sounds like they've got a handle of things, no sense exhausting herself further, not when there's a hangover in the works. Not when she has more work in store later on. “Adrian knows better than to make the same mistakes twice. Hell, if I were a betting woman? I'd say she'd rather die before let herself fuck up like this again.

“So long as she does it after we've got another candidate or a Council seat- and she doesn’t pull stunts like Harkin in the meantime- I’m content. Now goodnight, Ambassador, General. I’d like to get some rest before heading out to the hospital."

#my writing #mass effect #mass effect fanfic #hannah shepard #happy mother's day weekend lmao my Hannah is uh.#well sometimes the leader of the SSV Daddy Issues can have Mommy Issues instead; as a treat

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thesoulesscollection · 5 months ago

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Beat The Hand That Sins (Thsc Choc Fic)

Heya! Here's a little writer's blurb. I wanted to write a piece depicting the turbulent dynamic between Candy with her grandson, Choc.

By the way, please read the tags, Candy isn't a good person, she's very flawed, traumatized even, and downright abusive, most if not all having it directed at Choc.

Choc ‘fun fact’ is he's ambidextrous, is able to write with both hands fluidly yet naturally born a leftie and has a better preference for it.

Choc's the type of person who will talk about his trauma in a almost positively cheerful way, brushing it off as a joke he could laugh at now while anyone around him is highly uncomfortable and concerned by

^ Although at first, his advice would come out as helpful, if some were to really think deeper into what he says, it's far from so. It's one that's twisted up by trauma under the fatherly guise of ‘knowing what's best’ for people.

Tw/Tags: Heavy Angst, Whump, Graphic Child Abuse/Neglect, Corporal Punnishments, Physical Abuse, Verbal Insults, Dehumanizing Language, Abusive Familial Relationships, & Implied Religious Themes

1967: Choc, 11yo & Candy, 66yo

On the ground, curled up in a tight little ball, Choc's wheezing, his good eye not swollen shut is fixated to the wall ahead. Breathing ragged he stayed still, emotionless, crying won't protect him. Soon thereafter he goes imaging happy thoughts, more a sweetened escape from cruel reality until it breaks apart by the fantastical seams once he hears her voice.

“Get up you inept brat”

It's what kept him relatively sane for the most part. Until his grandmother hovers above his twisted little form with clear disdain. The ugly sneer on her wrinkled face, her strong french accent clipped in impatience at his sorry state, and gloved fists tells him it was far from over.

“G-grammy… Please”

A harsh scoff and her cold hand pinch around the back of his neck, immediately it shuts him up. Choc should've known better than to talk back, past experiences such as this reminds him as only pain will come to him if he chose to be stubborn. When he's made to stand on unsteady feet, nearly buckling under him, he does feel himself sway a little. Though that is when the backhanded slap across his face on the good side, not yet badly bruised such as with the other, elicits a startled gasp.

“How many times do I have to remind you to not be so careless? To not speak unless you are spoken to?”

Wincing at the sting freshly blossoming in his round cheeks, Choc swallowed back the pain, silently nodding along. Best not to show what hurts, always better to tough out, pray that it won't be too bad. Last time around the age of six, stupidly having been brought up through heavy wails, he was in pain and couldn't feel his legs. His grandmother decided to give him a plentiful amount of lashes on his back, on each corresponding limb, and left him to sleep in the mess that's meshed with his tears, snot, and other ungodly bodily fluids.

After a while the punishments, getting severe with each passing year, eventually do tend to blur together. Is it bad he stopped caring or rather no longer felt a thing?

Choc pushed it back to the recess of his mind.

“I shouldn't be expecting anything highly from you, should I?”

Once again the boy responds mutely, keeping his gaze locked on the ground, fingers digs in the old unwashed shirt worn daily, smelling of rotting stink. She barely allows him to clean in the idea he was at fault for his messy disarray so he shouldn't be rewarded with cleanliness or anything remotely caring. Unless he pleads his case to her, pathetically miserable it may be to earn her forgiveness which would never be granted, he still does it and will do chores galore, even if it would last from dawn to dusk to do all. But desperation called upon so, he'll work down to the bone, exhausted terribly he can sleep anywhere.

“You're a freakish imp in disguise of the devil's making. How can I be so blind not to see this. Your underhanded antics and cynical attitude” She rambled in vile anger. “What you wrote to deface me, our family and over what we believe”

This whole (one-sided) argument and physical discourse started because the elderly woman had taken note of his left hand at work, writing in a little journal in his room. A raggedy book yellowing in aged use was his only safe place to scribble away his inner worries. She read it, every page detailing his feelings, his thoughts on her, the family's fight over social standing, and the religion she prayed on her knees so rigorously over. Now it's been torn to shreds and he was beat for it.

“What you wrote was deplorable. Sinful. You don't dare begin to understand and know what I've done for you and your sister to be where we are now” While the woman firmly persists, her wide frame easily shadows his who's back is pressed flat against the wall. “You shall be thankful you are here in the first place, to be at mercy you aren't completely feeble such as with your mother. If it wasn't for our holiness, you wouldn't be a thing”

Choc curled away, his shaky hands clenched to fists, fighting the weak urge to cry, took this as a cue to speak, “I'm sorry”

“And what did I tell you, boy, about using your left hand?”

His right protectively covered the left hand, his cheeks were lit on the fire of shame. “I-I don't like writing with my right hand… It's. It's was un-u-uncomfortable”

“Give me your left hand” She orders, given no room for argument yet Choc resists, laying his left hand deep into his chest. “Now”

“I-I forget! Please!”

No matter what he says or goes to do, she is quicker to grab him by the ear, neck, arm, or in this case, his matted blond hair. Then she went for his left arm and got roughly yanked behind him, Choc for sure heard the bone in his shoulder pop. A pained hiss presses out his clenched teeth when she decides to throw his thin body on the nearest table. He faintly hears past the ringing in his ears, the rattling of a chest drawer open, she's in a desperate search for something. The tingling ache in his limp arm already tells him she dislocated it, he panics over the realization. Breath caught in his throat Choc squeezes his eyes shut.

Though in hesitancy, he cracks one eye open a smidge to see what his grandmother literally brought to the table, being a long slender stick made from smooth metal. Anxiously switching his blurry sight to his left hand as it lays on the table, palm flat on the bumpy oak surface.

“You made me do this. Take this as a learning experience as it hurts me more than it will for you”

Eventually Choc is pulled away from the table, his free hand, his right, the proper respectable one, grips the corner for dear life. In a sudden he was close to doubling over, bruised knees knocking together, almost giving out once the metal hits skin. Not his left hand but instead it is directed at back, likely used as a sly tactic to surprise him to alertness. She knows the boy slips into another state of mind.

“I want you to at least be conscious with me to learn your lesson. So stand up proper, I ask of you to keep your eyes on the wall and repeat to me the number of lashes I give you”

With a shake of the head, tremors is what it's called, Choc simply does what's asked of him, straightens his slumped posture and he blinks away the tears. Arm outstretched, hand ready to take the lashes, he steadies himself to take the punishments given. Rather he should be thankful she's merciful to primarily give his left hand and back the treatment. Although having been beaten to an inch of his life, she can no doubt be crueler about it.

“O-One!”

Voice cracks to an inhuman pitch which Choc grew embarrassed by, biting down at his lips hard enough to bleed. Grandma Candy is at his side, hearing his groggy whines with keen precision, no considerations, and it earns him another hit. This time, probably miscalculated, though it wouldn't really take him by surprise if it wasn't, she aims for his upper arm, a sliver of a long cut slashed across his forearm.

“Two!” He calls out. Then another two right after. “Three! Four!”

Soon he loses count. Mind went cloudy with time and intensity. However she won't lighten up. All Choc knows is how his voice follows in repeating the number of lashes the metal ruler gives him. Musky sweat profusely seeped out cut pores, the sour scent lingers heavy in the air.

In due time, she tires herself out, her old body can't keep up as it once was in her younger years.

Choc heaves a broken sigh, unable to pull his locked gaze from the wall.

Whatever his poor ailing mother had to deal with when she was alive, in her own childhood must've been ten times worse so he doesn't think harder on it. He wanted to do his best to preserve a positive memory of his mother and not sully himself into the idea his treatment was worse than hers.

“Do you apologize and reap for what you sow with bad intentions?”

“Yes, I have” Choc stumbled a little. Left hand was swollen and bruised like a bad fruit. Any movement whether small or big, even with an involuntary twitch caused him to wince. Likely the bruises will last for a couple weeks and he can take it in if it's broken. Either way he isn't looking forward to anything in the future. The side eyed glares and his need to give them half baked excuses.

“Good. You do realize I do this for you to learn that you can't keep biting the hand that feeds and cares for you? One day and it always will return to slap you back down to the fiery pits of hell”

As she dutifully promised he wouldn't be able to write as well as any remaining sinful deeds with said hand. It took a longer period for him to get remotely accustomed to using his right hand; it still was like a chainsaw to butter but he got there to garner less scrutiny.

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regina-del-cielo · 11 months ago

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Fic 20 questions

I was tagged by @bewires, thank you!

1 - How many works do you have on AO3?

13, lucky number.

2 - What's your total AO3 count?

67,881 words. Not bad.

3 - What fandoms do you write for?

Right now, only for The Old Guard (2020). I'm a "one hyperfixation at a time" type of person.

4 - What are your top five fics by kudos?

Celebrated for Their Frankness (P&P)

Kissing a Stranger (P&P)

Galeotto Fu'l Cane (P&P)

hand in hand, we stumble and we fall (then we stand, once and for all) (TOG)

seems like happiness is just a thing called Joe (TOG)

5 - Do you respond to comments?

99.9% of the time, yes, even if it's just to write "thank you for reading" thirty times in a row

6 - What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Uuuuuh I don't actually write angsty endings? Even the sadder ones always have a vision of hope in the end

7 - What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Again, difficult to say. Probably c'est lui pour moi, moi pour lui (dans la vie) because it's Reunion and Fluff Galore. Or A Marriage of True Minds, because of Wedding Fluff and Feelings.

8 - Do you get hate on fics?

Thankfully not, and I hope it never happens

9 - Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

No, not really. Love reading it, but I don't think I'll go that far myself.

10 - Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

No I don't. The thought never really crossed my mind

11 - Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Never, thank goodness

12 - Have you ever had a fic translated?

No - although one could say that I already am doing my own mental translation since English is not my first language lol - but if someone wanted to I wouldn't mind, as long as they asked me first

13 - Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, never happened

14 - What's your all time favourite ship?

Why are you asking me to rank my children?! Darcy/Elizabeth has been around longer, but Joe/Nicky really Hit Different. So I say it's a tie.

15 - What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

All of them? There's a reason I don't post WIPs - inspiration is flighty and cruel. I never say 'never', but knowing myself if I haven't worked on something for longer than a year it's unlikely I'll ever start again

16 - What are your writing strengths?

I'm the wrong person to ask this - Maybe plot coherency and world building? I tend to take a lot of time to make sure that the plot flows well and that things are as accurate I can get them. Also, clearly, writing soft and fluffy things.

17 - What are your writing weaknesses?

I always have the feeling of my writing being clunky and too detail-filled, because I want the readers to see the scene as I see it in my mind. And I've never been able to stay within the number of words I expected to - my one-shots get stupidly long.

18 - Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I literally make Nicky speak in Italian as much as I can get away with it all the time. But also, if it's a language you don't know well and unless you have a human who speaks it that can check it, I wouldn't just trust a translation software. I have seen enough of glaring Italian errors in fic to make me want to go "please just say that they spoke in another language in the dialogue tag I beg of you."

19 - First fandom you wrote for?

Winx Club, a long long time ago, and not in English

20 - Favourite fic you've written?

I think it's a tie between hand in hand and We're Meant to Find Each Other - they're more team-focused than the others; hand in hand was the first I wrote for TOG fandom and a true stroke of inspiration. Meant to Find Each Other is the only multi-chaptered fic I ever managed to finish, it spans through multiple time periods, and the AU it's set in is very close to my heart.

I don't know who has already done this, but I'll tag @ellynneversweet @raedear @gallifreyburning @nicolos @nicolodigenovas and anyone else who feels like it!

#tag game #writing #fanfiction #my fanfiction

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v-anrouge · 7 months ago

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I SAW YOUR TAG FOR CENTAUR TREY AND YOURE A GENOUS OR HOWEVER YOU FUCKING SPELL IT!

I bet he would be like a beautiful race horse, but he isn’t competitive, everyone says it’s a waste to live in the forest and bake when he’s so fast, and handsome! He’s better than some actual derby centaurs! But he just chuckles and says he prefers the simpler things in life.

I bet his dad was a work horse, so Trey is also HUGE. A gentle giant, always super careful of where each hood gets placed so he doesn’t squish any plants or animals. He keeps some extra treats specifically for passing deer, some birds, and even some village kids who sometimes wonder into the forest! He always makes sure to lead them back home, sometimes even carries them on his back if they get tired.

He has a lot of saddle bags he likes to use, tending to his garden he keeps many of the weeds to either eat or fertilize, but he’s gotta separate them, and keep his own tools in reach, and the treats for the kids, and his own lunch! It’s a lot of work but worth it! I bet he bought a special one for when he goes into town from Vil, it’s just a bit nicer than his scuffed up old ones he tends to use.

He has a nice little cottage, single story, with a warm fire that he cooks on, true cottage core man! Jade is jealous! He’s got books galore, and I bet he presses flowers to give to some of the kids and grannies when in town! He’s a heartthrob! Bet he even gives some flowers to Vil for his own work, or just for fun!

Drider Rook totally comes over and helps put up some bug catchers to help protect Trey’s garden from any pests, and Trey repays him with some baked goods. I feel Rook would like potato bread the most, he seems like he would enjoy bland things for some reason…

Picture Centaur Trey getting excited though and clopping his little feet and whinnying, but then he gets all embarrassed and blushy right afterwards!

Help him brush out his tail please? It’s probably hard to reach, Vil sometimes will braid it for him but he’s not around all the time and Trey always feels bad when Vil comes back later and it’s a mess. He gets a flustered if you put flowers in his tail too I bet!

I bet HES scared of horseshoes, he grew up in the forest and the thought of something being nailed into his hood freaks him out, so he’s just extra careful. But when he does get a split hood, you drag him to a furrier, and hold his hand while he gets fitted. Each clang of the hammer makes him jump.

Afterwards you go to a nearby bakery and get him some sweet cakes to make up for it, and don’t tell him you have to return in a few weeks to check on the hoof…

CENTAUR TREY ID SO FUCKKMG CUTE PLEASE ph my god he's literally the village's favorite neighbor i just know he helps everyone carry things if they need it (especially disabled and elderly people) he's so sweet and gentle and the children especially love him. BRAIDING HIS TAIL (#+$2+#+#+ i can totally imagine him laying down on the floor while some of the little neighbors braid flowers and pretty jewel on his tail 😿😿 i love centaurs so much trey would be an amazing one

#✎ ⇣‧₊˚ 【asks #ৎ୭ ⇣‧₊˚ 【stinks #♡ᭂ ⇣‧₊˚ 【 my silly

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ladylannisterxo · 1 year ago

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tagged by @acrossthesestars ; thank youu, love! 💕

01. how many works do you have on ao3? 18

02. what's your total ao3 word count? 62,918

03. what fandoms do you write for? mainly stranger things but have dabbled in writing for twd, true blood, and hotd... hoping to expand to others eventually 🤔

04. what are your top 5 fics by kudos? bad things with you, tell me you love me, flannel and lace, a little bit closer, and lucky me, lucky you

05. do you respond to comments? why or why not? i do my best! i love engagement and hearing everyone's thoughts!

06. what's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? uhhh i actually don't write that much angst (love reading it though) and if i do, it's always angst with a happy ending 😂 but for the sake of this, i would say soaked in sin just because it's my one and only dark!fic and it's all just rather unsettling from start to finish

07. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? see above lol they all end with some sort of a happy ending but let's go with lucky me, lucky you, it's just fluff, fluff, fluff galore!

08. do you get hate on fics? not on fics specifically but i have gotten hate on certain characters i write for 🤷‍♀️ don't like, don't read

09. do you write smut? if so, what kind? oh yeah... i can write anything from implied smut to absolutely explicit smut

10. do you write crossovers? what's the craziest one you've written? no and i most likely won't either

11. have you ever had a fic stolen? ahaaa yeahhh... having one of my fics stolen led me to stop writing for about a year at one point

12. have you ever had a fic translated? no

13. have you ever cowritten a fic before? no

14. what's your all time favorite ship? sighhh... dramione. and yes, i know but it's solely because it was the first ship i ever attached myself to... so like, nostalgia, i guess... but believe me, there are others, i just always kind of find my way back to them...

15. what's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will? definitely let's be alone together, my billy hargrove fic that took place right before the events of S3. i had it all planned out and wrote and posted 2 of the 4 chapters but like mentioned above, another one of my fics was stolen at the time i was writing it and i ended up shelving everything and stopped writing for a time... i still think about this fic though, maybe one day i'll come back to it

16. what are your writing strengths? fluff... but also inner dialogue, inner thoughts, insane descriptions of how someone feels in a moment

17. what are your writing weaknesses? actual dialogue and getting my characters to end up where i want them, either through dialogue or action

18. thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? the only "other language" i've used in a fic was high valyrian for my aemond fic and i used a web translator... it was a poor attempt and maybe not 100% accurate but i did my best 😂

19. first fandom you wrote for? 😬 i'm not telling buuut... if you know, you know sooo for the sake of this, let's just say stranger things

20. favorite fic you've ever written? kiss me deadly... this fic is so special and so important to me. it started off as the simplest thing in my mind and i just kept expanding and expanding as i wrote and it's one of those fics that i always go back and read again when i'm feeling like i'm not so great at being a writer... it's also the longest fic i've ever written so that's cool too 😂

no pressure tags! @inthedayswhenlandswerefew , @valhallaas , @sunlightbabe , @oncasette , @venuslore + anyone else who wants to do it 🙂

#tagged #tag game #'s' speaks

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tmwwriting · 1 year ago

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Title: To be left on earth (yandere Lucas Grey x gender neutral reader) Rating: Mature Word Count: 2.3K Tags/warnings: 18+. MDNI. Yandere!Lucas Grey. Dark!Lucas Grey. Gender neutral reader. No use of Y/N. Dubcon. Noncon. Abusive relationship. Major character death. Stockholm Syndrome. Mental breakdown. No happy ending. No happy beginning or middle either. Angst. A/N: This hurt to write, my god. I wanted a darker Lucas Grey x reader drabble and uhhhh oops? Heed the tags. Dead doves galore.

AO3: (X)

* * * You wonder when it began. Surely you would have noticed the crossing of the Rubicon, just as surely as you know you did not cross it willingly. How many signs have you missed, how many off ramps and escape routes have passed you by? There's a twisting in your stomach, a knife of doubt sliding between your ribs, and you can only hope that it's not too late for you. (You also know, deep down, you'd missed nothing. Not truly. You'd known what Lucas Grey was from the beginning.)

There is (there had always been) a hard, cruel line to the man's mouth and hell itself does not burn as fiercely as the anger in his eyes. He's handsome, but you'd seen handsome men before and never been taken in by it. Pretty smiles go with pretty lies, and you learned a long time ago to steer clear of them. So maybe what had captivated you so much was the quiet, dangerous self-assuredness that oozes from every fiber of Lucas Grey's being, that permeates the air around him and makes everyone avert their eyes (as though that could save them, as though anything could save them from this man). He would gun down everyone in a 100-yard radius if he had to, and wouldn't so much as bat an eye. He is a promise of violence, and it had been so new to you, such an enticing temptation - like finding a cliff over the ocean and taking a running jump off of it. So you had taken the leap. It's only now you see the jagged rocks below the surface. Waiting. * * * Now that he has you he keeps you close, even closer when he knows there's no one to see, when the Cobbs and the rest of their small army of household staff are nowhere nearby. You try in vain to find some breathing room. But he got you this job and its ridiculously, undeservedly high pay, and you owe him. You're always owing him, it seems, and he never has to remind you of the debt. Not with words, anyway - Lucas Grey is a remarkably silent man. He's simply everywhere, always. An arm snakes around your waist, a hand grips you hard enough to bruise. Marking you. You used to like it. It used to make you feel safe, but you know better now: it is the safety of a prison wall, the safety of a cage. You stare out from behind the prison bars of his embrace, trying to pretend you still have your freedom, trying to pretend you still have a choice in the matter - and as though he can read your mind, Lucas tightens his grip, until the last sliver of your hope lies strangled at his feet. * * * Cobb is in the news again - the search for the missing flight has finally been called off, everyone onboard presumed dead. You turn away. You already know the details from the first reports (household staff are a gossipy bunch), and you do not care about the billionaire banker or his watery grave. There's someone else on that plane that a part of you does care about, no matter how desperately you try to deny it, and you know the spectre of Lucas Grey will haunt you forever. The more rational part of you is only full of an aching relief that almost brings you to your knees, and you wonder briefly if it's bad karma to celebrate a bad man's death. But philosophy doesn't suit you, and so you cling to a simple truth like a lifeline: Lucas is gone. You are safe. You ready yourself for bed with a peace you haven't known in ages. Lucas is - was - always consistent in his need for you, and always harsh and demanding when he sated it, leaving you full of his spilled seed and your own unspilled tears. Tonight you tuck yourself under the covers with a little smile, appreciating the cold emptiness beside you. I prefer you this way, Lucas. It's the first time in a long time you think of him fondly and you drift off into sleep with a soft smile. But in your dreams, Lucas Grey is there waiting for you, angry and betrayed, and he ravishes you until you awake sobbing. * * * Your nightmares become reality. The days pass faster and faster now, a tidal wave picking up momentum, and you try desperately to wake up before it comes crashing down. It's no use. There's no hope of rescue now. You stop walking, and turn back to see the white-shuttered farm house amid the sea of trees. You're not allowed too far, but far enough you can pretend this is a normal house on a normal farm with normal people, and not a makeshift mercenary compound filled with murderers and terrorists. Your pretty little illusions shatter like the silence as explosions rend the air. You take a last look at the mountains in the distance and head back to the house, where your pained, heavy steps take you up to the second floor. You just want to get away from all of the men outside with their guns and their violence that poison the cold mountain air. At least the room with the techs is quiet, save for the soft humming of the computers. Olivia is slouched back against the far wall, a laptop perched precariously on her legs, hard at work for this man and his dreams of vengeance. So young. There's no going back for her now, either. Your assigned guards take up positions nearby - for your own safety, Lucas says each time he catches you staring at them, and each time you only nod. No use arguing. He values you too much to leave you unprotected, and you don't want him to lock you up again. You sneak another glance at Olivia. You can never leave, though you often dream about it - about telling Olivia the truth about Lucas, how he terrifies you, how he hurts you. You think she'd help you if she knew. Your mind recoils violently from even that tiny ray of hope - No, it says, you can never leave. Lucas would track you down. Almost laughably easy for a man like him. You've seen too much to be allowed to live, although you wonder if he'd drag you back, kicking and screaming, or if he'd rid himself of his troublesome pet permanently. When he came back for you after the plane crash...you had wanted to run then, too. For a brief, tantalizing second you had thought of running out into the street, screaming, begging, throwing yourself on the mercy of strangers to save you. It would only have doomed any rescuer to the same death that awaited you. So you'd forced out a strangled cry at the sight of him, praying he believed that it was your uncontrollable relief --surely terror and joy did not look quite so different. But the tenuous hold on your own sanity had finally snapped; it had fallen to the floor in a million pieces, and each footstep towards him scattered the pieces to the winds. * * * You call him Lucas when you're alone together. He likes that, you can tell. For everyone else, he's Grey, Mr. Grey, or Sir. Not to you. Lucas. And you know, at this point, that it's not a real name (you know now that nothing about this man is real, except for his anger and his need for you), but it always does something to him when you say it. Whether it's when you're under him, and it's dragged out of you as a soft, pleading moan; or whether it's when you greet him in a good mood, and his name rings out as bright as a church bell in sunny weather - his eyes always grow a little softer, just for a moment. His name brings him back to earth, it makes him more real to you - he seems so above everything, running at the head of a pack of outlaws like in some tale from the Old West, but the scope and scale of his plans are so beyond anything from the stories you know. So you sigh his name as he pulls you to him, and you can almost convince yourself you love him. You just need to close your eyes and pretend you can't see the blood dripping from his hands. He notices your trembling, and chuckles deep in his throat, probably thinking it's pent-up desire and prudish embarrassment that has you acting like a blushing bride in his arms. You’ve never heard anything so menacing. You open your eyes, eventually, when his need and your pain and the suffocating knowledge of the truth become too much. Better to see, better to know. The blood is still there, and on you now, too. You shut your eyes. It’s not better to see after all. * * * You could kill him now. Lucas is entirely spent, and careless in the haze of his bliss - collapsed on top of you, breathing hard in your ear, no weapons to defend himself. You have these thoughts each time he takes you, though it's rare he's this vulnerable, rare you're this sure he is unarmed. Normally it's a fast, rough, animalistic thing - you end up shoved against a wall or bent over the nearest surface and he does barely more than unzip his pants before he's rutting into you. He had been almost romantic this time, almost tender (almost loving), and it had scared you so badly you thought he was going to kill you after he was done. Instead, he'd only pressed a searing kiss to your collarbone before burying his face in your neck. It's because he's getting closer to what he wants, you realize as you stroke his hair. He has his brother back, and so he's closer to Providence, closer to vengeance, closer to the end. Lucas is allowing himself this moment with you, and the thought makes your breath quicken and your traitorous mind soften. You kiss his temple, thoughts of murder forgotten. He does have a heart, you think, feeling it pound faithfully against your skin. How odd. * * * You almost miss Colorado. Now Lucas drags you across the world and leaves you at safe-houses only he knows, and you feel like a plant he has to remember to come home to water. You wonder why he does it. Surely it's easier to just get rid of you at this point. But he doesn't seem to mind, and you enjoy the relative solitude between visits. This safe-house is in France somewhere, and he's going across the Channel on his latest hunt. We've found her, he tells you, (you don't understand who she is, something to do with Providence, you suppose) and he seems almost happy when he steals a goodbye kiss from your mouth. He never comes back. You wait longer than you should. Lucas has told you what to do if he never returns, where to find instructions on how to escape the labyrinth of his underworld (he does care for you, you realize, packing through your panic and tears, although this does not feel like any love you've heard of). So you run. It's the first time in years you're alone (truly, horrifyingly alone), and the world is a more dangerous place than you remember, since now you know there's something out there that killed Lucas Grey. The safe-house in Germany is a no-go - Hirschmüller cannot be trusted. Lucas Grey and Lucas Grey alone held the leash to that mad dog, and you don't plan on finding out whether the bikers' loyalty extends to you. The clone brother you don't know at all, only that he answers to a woman Lucas doesn't trust, and that is an unacceptable risk. Then you think of Olivia, and your heart stutters painfully. But she's a smart girl. Hardy. Resourceful. She'll make it, and you pretend you're certain of that as you disappear. * * * There are no more instructions for you. You had taken the money and the fake passports, done exactly as he had said, maneuvered your way through the legal and financial systems until you no longer existed. It takes a long time for you to stop running like a bat out of hell. It takes a longer time until you trust there's no monster stalking your every move, waiting for one little slip so it can kill you the way it killed Lucas. This new life...it's for you, but it's not yours, and you think Lucas did that intentionally. Everything you do, everything that is supposed to be yours now - the sweet little house with the overflowing garden, the endless hobbies and projects since you don't have to work, the friends he never let you have when he was alive - is because of him. You miss him, just a little, just enough for it to hurt. You cry for him once. Then twice. And then, like he can hear you, he starts appearing at the corners of your mind, shimmering at the edge between dreams and reality. He's with you in the silence of the mornings and in the gray of the dusk. You talk to him sometimes. He appears more often when you do that, and you hate yourself for only lasting a day or two before speaking his name into the soft silence. You swear the wind brings the scent of his aftershave through the open window, and you even run to the door, certain you've heard him coming up the porch stairs, calling for you. But it’s all a lie - you stand there in the doorway, welcoming no one. Now you just want to laugh. Now you just want to cry.

#lucas grey #lucas grey x reader #yandere!Lucas Grey #lucas grey imagine #heed the warnings #fic: to be left on earth

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kitten4sannie · 9 months ago

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ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ + ʀᴏʙᴏᴛꜱ

ꜱᴇᴅᴜᴄᴛɪᴏɴ/ꜱᴇɴꜱᴏʀʏ ᴅᴇᴘʀɪᴠᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ➠ ꜱᴀɴ

pairing: cyber stripper! san x gang leader! reader (fem) feat. gang member! wooyoung and a surprise cameo from matz <3

genre: cyberpunk au, smut

summary: too accustomed to chaos and bloodshed as a hardened gang leader, you need to wind down a bit with the help of san, a popular cyber stripper you always find yourself coming to visit in downtown neo city.

w.c: 4.5k

warnings: 2k words of plot, depictions of blood/violence in the intro, a cute lil cigarette kiss ;; (irl smoking is so bad for you DON’T DO IT 🫵🏼), references to the game cyberpunk, alcohol use, pussydrunk maniac switch! san, subby babygirl switch! reader, cybernetic body parts…..dykwim…., only praise in this one (shocking ik), pet names, dirty talk, use of a tie as a blindfold, oral (receiving), spit play, fingering, san grinds into the bed bc he’s so needy :(, cockwarming, tit play, kissing, dick riding, nipple play (f/m receiving ehehehe), mating press…., creampies galore !!!!

a/n: reuploaded bc tumblr wants to play games…. i hope this ends up in the tags or else i’m gonna be pissed ;; anyways!! this was one of my absolute faves to write i just ADORE cyberpunk stuff so i almost couldn’t stopp >< it makes me wanna turn this into a series or something ;^; so aaaaaaaAAA i can’t believe fff is over *sobs* this was such an amazing journey and i just wanna thank each and every one of you for coming along, supporting me, and leaving me the most wonderful feedback i could ask for 🥹🫶🏼 im thinkinggg about doing kinktober this year sooo see you then? ~~ <3

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ʜᴏɴᴇʏ (ᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴏᴍɪɴɢ?) ʙʏ ᴍᴀɴᴇꜱᴋɪɴ

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ᴘʀᴇᴠ | ꜰꜰꜰ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ɴᴇxᴛ

In Neo City, you had two options: live a life of crime and bloodshed all in the name of the almighty dollar, or be out on the streets, doing whatever necessary to feed yourself, doomed to be forgotten by the cruel sands of time, all while the rich got richer and the poor got poorer. Even in a city that sported the newest advances in technology, highly developed amenities, and shiny, lit-up streets filled with opportunities for material surplus and virtual sin, it all remained the same in the end. It made you feel hopeless the longer you thought about it — not that you ever had much time to think about anything, given your chaotic lifestyle.

Right on cue, a group of enemy gang members filed in through the broken-down garage door that led to your cramped hideout, immediately shouting profanities at you and firing off in all directions, trying to pick off as many of your underlings as they could, only successfully grazing a few of them with hot lead.

“Boss, you better get down here!” Wooyoung, one of your most trusted underlyings, shouted from the bottom floor of the makeshift living space, wiping a bit of sweat from his sharp jaw, nervously licking at the mole on his lip as he slowly dragged one of his injured friends away from the commotion and placed him behind a bullet hole ridden couch.

Still inside your bedroom on the second floor, you went straight for a silver case that you kept underneath your bed and set it down on the mattress, flipping it open. You sighed at its contents, about to shed a tear. Good thing you had picked up something this useful at the last illegal cyber swap meet you attended.

“Boss! Help! Please!” the young underlying called out in a slightly higher pitched tone, now hiding behind the couch, hastily pushing a few bullets into the chamber of his smoking gun, accidentally dropping a few of them onto the concrete floor below.

“Coming!” You pressed a few buttons on your sleek metal arm, eventually sliding a large metallic blade into the open metal seams until it locked in, blue streams of light darting back and forth through the seams to let you know that it was ready to use. You ran down the stairs, the sound of your heavy boots hitting the pavement growing silent upon stepping into something wet.

Seeing the spilled blood of your members, your family, sent you over the deep end. Red rings of light circled around your straining pupils, and a faint ringing overtook your ears, not fully in control of your body when you began to take your enemies head-on, dodging their bullets and slicing them up until your hideout was stained with more crimson.

After the massacre was finally over, you slowly made your way back to one of the couches that had your injured cohorts haphazardly laying on it, either smoking cigarettes or clutching onto their wounds, some doing both at once, their eyes glazed over, the post-fight flood of dopamine hitting their wired brains. You plopped onto the couch where they left you a seat like always, ran your fingers through your damp hair and pulled out a cigarette from your blood-stained jacket, turning your head to face your dear friend, leaning in close to him.

With a lit cigarette in between his lips, Wooyoung quietly closed the space between the two of you, the end of his cig kissing yours until it was lit. You both silently studied each other’s sweaty faces, simply existing in the moment after the chaos.

“What was it about this time…?” you asked softly, after you turned your head to blow out a puff of smoke, leaning your back into the couch.

“It was over some dumb shit…” Wooyoung settled into the couch as well, angling his head up towards the ceiling. He rubbed at the cut on his cheek with his hoodie sleeve, smearing some blood across his tan skin. “One of our guys accidentally sold some dorph on the wrong turf. Then he got a little trigger happy when someone made a big fucking deal about it.”

“Ahh…” You let out a long sigh, taking in a drag of the cigarette, the collective taste of smoke and iron lingering inside your mouth. Whether or not it was wrong to take the lives you did wasn’t up to you to decide. It was your maker’s when your metal ticker finally decided to give up on you.

You lingered there a bit longer, unconsciously reaching over to run your fingers through Wooyoung’s sweaty, disheveled hair, giving his head a few gentle pats, wanting him to know that you were proud of his constant bravery and loyalty to you without actually being able to say it yourself. You could kill in cold blood but shuddered in fear over speaking from the heart. How ironic.

It wasn’t until Wooyoung hesitantly placed his hand over your bruised knuckles and nuzzled the inside of your palm that you pulled away, putting out your cigarette in a full ashtray that was sitting on the messy coffee table in front of you. You reached into one of your jacket pockets and pulled out a stack of Eddies, tossing it into Wooyoung’s lap. “Take anyone injured with you down to Yunho’s shop. Get yourself fixed up for me, okay?”

Wooyoung flipped through the stack, looking up at you with wide eyes as you stood up from the couch and stretched. “Are you sure? This is way more than we need, Boss…”

“I know.” You turned to look down at your beloved cohort, reaching down to caress his cheek with a gentleness you were surprised you still possessed after all those long, violent nights you spent taking lives and accruing their blood-stained cash, briefly licking at your thumb and rubbing the dried blood from his cheek. “Get yourself some upgrades while you’re there. You’ve earned it.”

Wooyoung stayed completely still, like he didn’t want to scare you off, his cheeks growing hotter by the second. Once he saw that you were simply standing there, letting the moment happen, his face softened and his eyes lit up, his lips curling up into a bright smile, wanting to say so much more than, “Thank you, Boss…”

As you made your way back up to your room and into your shower to clean yourself up, you thought about the pretty smile Wooyoung gave you. It reminded you of someone you hadn’t seen in quite a while, his dimpled smile never seeming to leave the partly synthetic confines of your mind. Pressing your metal hand into the tile wall for support, you felt your thumping heart skip a beat, a few beads of sweat dripping past your flushed cheeks, making you wonder if your shower was too hot, or if you were going soft. It’s not like you were in love with him. He was the most sought-after cyber stripper in downtown Neo City, after all. He probably had an army of rich corpo men and women already lined up just waiting to sweep him off his feet. Sure, you had money like them, but theirs wasn’t tainted in the same way. They weren’t tainted like you, doomed to a life of voluntary solitude. You pressed your hot cheek into the cool tile, glancing downwards to watch the red-tinted water swirl around into the drain. None of it mattered, anyways. You just needed a drink and a good fuck. That was all.

࿏࿏࿏

“I want a vodka on the rocks. Don’t give me that cheap shit either,” you told the small robot that rolled up beside your VIP table, tapping lightly against its smooth chrome surface. You looked to the side, spotting a robotic couple that couldn’t keep their hands off of each other on the large dance floor of the crowded club, causing you to sink lower against the soft cushions behind you. “You know what? Just bring me the whole bottle.”

The robot blinked its simple eyes at you through the clear glass, calculating its response. “A full bottle of alcohol is not recommended for consumption by a singular person. Can I perhaps recommend–”

“I recommend you shutting the fuck up, robot.” You snapped a finger in its direction, crossing one leather bound thigh over the other, shoving a few bills into the slot that was placed in the middle of its machinery. “Now, get going.”

You watched the robot slowly roll away into the crowd of patrons, before your attention snapped to the middle stage when people and cyborgs alike began to cheer. No one seemed to notice when two elegant looking men decked out in shades and fur coats that smelled suspiciously of gunpowder made their way across the busy club, especially not once the stage suddenly became bathed in sinful red lighting, the cyber stripper you swore up and down you weren’t in love with taking slow, deliberate steps across it.

Dressed in a form-fitting suit that you’d probably see a stuck-up corpo drone wearing on his way to work, San eventually stood at the edge of the stage and ran his hands slowly up his body as soon as a bass-heavy, seductive track bumped through the large speakers around you, a voice announcing, “It’s the moment you’ve all been waiting for, folks. Our very own hopeless romantic, Choi San, is blessing the stage with his new routine. You better bring out the big bills if you want to see what kind of cyber parts he’s got hiding underneath those tight clothes of his.”

Just as the robot brought you your bottle of alcohol, you took a long swig from it, sinking down a little more into your seat, reaching into one of your pockets just to feel the stacks of cash that still sat inside, unable to take your eyes off of the cyber stripper that turned away from you and the crowd to show off the curves off his ass through his tight work pants, gently pulling his blazer off and revealing just how small his waist looked from behind.

A few people threw money at him, cheering and whistling, as he rolled his body along to the sultry music, leaning his head back dramatically just as he began to tug his tie off, an overtly erotic expression woven into his hypnotically beautiful face.

Just as the music began to come to an intense peak, he dropped to his knees, bringing the tie up into his mouth to bite down onto it, expertly rolling his hips in a fluid motion like he was fucking into someone on the stage floor. The crowd went absolutely apeshit, Eddies floating in the air around San, everyone’s attention on the club’s most beloved stripper — but, like clockwork, his attention was on you. See, San was a sucker for a woman in power, for a femme fatale that could provide him raw, unadulterated excitement, and he simply couldn’t get you out of his mind, couldn’t stop reminiscing about what it felt like to have you underneath him, taking all that he could give you.

His piercing, cat-like eyes never left yours, even as he unbuttoned his vest and tugged it off, revealing an expanse of smooth tan skin and straining muscles, grabbing someone’s hand to run it along the pronounced ridges of his abs, his tongue swiping across his lips.

You took a few more sips of your liquid courage, one hand clutching your thigh, hardly able to handle the blinding heat that blazed away inside your core. It wasn’t until San began to unbuckle his tight pants and gently ease them down just enough to show off the edges of his hips and the neat trail of hair that led to his cock, that you got up onto your feet and made your way up to the main stage, a few patrons taking cautious steps out of your way when they saw your face. It turned up on their holo devices during the evening news too frequently for them to not know who you were.

Quite amused with your presence, San stood directly above you with his hands on his bare hips, giving you a good view of his half-hard cock pressing into the thin material of his pants, his hands slowly running from his hips down to his inner thighs, just barely grazing over his cock each time. “It’s good to see you again, angel. Are you here to have some fun with me?”

Barely able to speak, let alone think, with the way your head, heart, and cunt was pounding, you pulled the stack of bills out of your pocket and reached up to pull the lip of his pants down, revealing his cock to yourself and the enthusiastic crowd just long enough to tuck the stack comfortably inside the hem. “Need to fuck you, San,” you requested softly, but firmly enough that it roused the cyber stripper enough to jump down from the stage and pick you up bridal style.

It wasn’t until San brought you to one of the empty love rooms and sat you down on the edge of the heart-shaped bed that you complained. “You can’t just carry me around like that in front of everyone, San…I have a reputation…”

San stood in front of you, reaching down to run his fingers through your hair, humming softly, rings of light rapidly rushing around the edges of his eyes. “You know your reputation doesn’t matter when you’re here with me, baby…” He reached for the bottom of your chin, tilting it up towards his smiling face, his thumb gently pressing into your bottom lip. “Just your pleasure.”

“My…pleasure…” you repeated in a soft whisper, your hand automatically reaching out to settle on his hips.

“Yes, sweetheart.” San slowly brought himself down to you, pressing his lips lightly against yours, just enough to draw you in. He pulled away teasingly, seeing the desperation inside your fervent gaze, his own eyes creasing with mischievous amusement. “Should I give you a reminder?”

You swallowed hard, not wanting your thumping heart to somehow leap out of your throat and ruin the moment with the cybernetic man you most definitely weren’t in love with. “Yes, please…”

San, who had his tie hanging loosely from his neck, took it off and leaned down, wrapping it around your head to block your vision. Sensing your slight hesitation, he cradled your jaw, pressing a few kisses along it, whispering, “It’ll feel so much better when I put my mouth on you like this…Trust me.”

San wasn’t lying. Since your vision was blacked out, you focused entirely on where he touched you once he discarded your clothes, feeling his strong hands slide along your thighs, his thumbs spreading you apart, his tongue slowly lapping at your cunt, his warm breath and spit hitting your clit when he sucked on it. “Fuck, San….”

Your hands went straight into his styled hair, though he didn’t care one bit when you began to mess it up by tugging on it, simply burying his face deeper into your cunt to drag his tongue rapidly back and forth over your sensitive clit, groaning all the while. When your thighs squeezed around his head, he clutched them tight, holding them in place. “You’ll be good and cum all over my face, won’t you, baby? You’ll let me get a taste of you?”

“Yes, San…I’m so close already…” You nodded weakly, desperately wishing you could see what the man of your dreams looked like in between your thighs, but choosing to be patient, not realizing what his next plan of attack was until you were being filled by two thick fingers, moaning at the feeling of them rubbing eagerly against your pulsing walls. “Oh my god, San…!”

“Baby, won’t you call me by my other name? The one I like to hear?” he sighed against your cunt, giving it one long lick past his thrusting fingers to your clit, pursing his lips to send a wad of spit onto it, before he licked it up once more.

“Sannie…” you moaned out, feeling a familiar heaviness pool within your core, the muscles in your thighs starting to tighten up, your fingers gripping the man’s hair just a little tighter. “Make me cum, please, I’m right there…”

San moaned back just from hearing you call out his name in such a way, starting to desperately thrust his hips forward against the side of the mattress, wanting to get some friction against his large, aching cock. “I’ll make you cum so hard, baby, just like always,” he promised haphazardly with his lips and tongue on your clit, fervently licking at it with his small pink tongue, easily slipping in a third digit into your squelching hole, curling them up just in time to hear you let out a shaky cry. “That’s it, sweetheart, just like that…You’re so good for your Sannie…”

When you came, you came hard, your body fully locking up once the intense waves of pleasure washed over you, unable to keep yourself from tugging the tie from your eyes once you could catch your breath. The already low lights of the room hurt your eyes for a second, having to blink a few times to truly focus on the state of the man who just sent you to cyber heaven. He was looking up at you with his big brown eyes, small digital hearts present within them, his raven hair tousled, a few damp strands clinging to his forehead. His cheeks and arousal-stained lips sported an alluring reddish hue, the flush making its way all the way down to his long, curved cock, the tip of it leaking vast amounts of pre-cum onto the floor below.

“You made me feel so good, Sannie,” you praised him softly, reaching down to caress his warm cheek, running your thumb across the cute mole underneath his eye. “You deserve to feel good too, don’t you?”

“Uh-huhhh…I’m so hard, it hurts…” The dominance San once displayed was instead overcome with submissive neediness, a whimper leaving his lips, once he began to rub his cock against the mattress a bit harder, looking up to you for approval.

“Aww, do you want to rub your cock against my pussy instead of using the bed like that?” you asked teasingly, pressing your thumb into his bottom lip.

“Yes, please…”

That was all it took for you to reach down for his hands, coaxing him onto the bed with you and gently pushing him down onto his back. “You always take such good care of me, Sannie, always take such good care of everyone that visits you…Do you want to be taken care of like that too?” you cooed sweetly, as you straddled him and slowly sank down onto his oversized cock, feeling its sleek, cybernetic curves fill you up just right.

“Yeah, I do…Please take care of me, Y/N…” San moaned loudly when your bodies finally connected, all the synthetic pleasure he felt in his cock going straight to his head, entirely grateful for the recent upgrades he got from his ripperdoc.

You stayed still on his lap, simply cockwarming him until you felt that you should move, leaning down to press kisses onto his neck and along his collarbone, his pre-cum causing a soft squelching sound to escape where your bodies joined together. “You feel so much bigger inside…Did you get a naughty upgrade, Sannie?”

“I got the pleasure package…” San murmured shyly, reaching up to rub his hands along your thighs, slowly making his way up past your waist to your chest to knead your tits against his palms. “It increased my length and width by three inches, gives me longer cumshots, and makes me more sensitive…”

You giggled softly, moving your hips up and lowering them back down just to make San groan out from the sudden slick friction, hovering above him, your faces a few inches away from each other. “Want me to milk you dry, Sannie?” you asked underneath your breath, running your hands up along his abdomen to his chest, feeling his muscles contract slightly underneath your touch.

San bit into his bottom lip, his cock pulsing steadily inside your leaking cunt, wondering if his rapidly beating heart was simply a glitch in his coding. “Yeah…”

That was all it took for you to rest your hands securely on the fullness of his chest, and begin desperately bouncing on his throbbing cock, not wanting to stop until he filled you up so deep with his load, that you’d be willing to survive another day in Neo City.

“Y/N, fuck, you’re so tight,” San whined, squeezing your tits in between his fingers, eventually letting his hands slide down your abdomen until he got to your cunt, taking turns rubbing each of his thumbs into your sensitive clit, causing your hips to stutter. “Come on, baby, don’t you dare stop riding my cock…You’re going to cum just like this…”

“Just like this, Sannie?” you panted out, smiling at the way he desperately nodded back, gently squeezing his chest in a similar fashion, running your own thumbs along the hardness of his nipples, delighted with the way he began to arch his back into your touch. “All of you is so sensitive, huh? Not just your cock…”

“It all feels so good, baby. You make me feel amazing…It drives me crazy…” San jolted suddenly when you pinched one of his nipples, emitting a whiny sound of approval, starting to buck his hips up into you on his own.

“You drive me crazy too, Sannie…I can’t seem to stay away from you…” you admitted, pressing your hands into his pecs, before slowly lowering yourself down to his lips to kiss him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Then, don’t…” San whispered back, before he caught your mouth against his, your lips and tongues meeting in the middle, getting lost in the heat of the moment, reaching for your hips so that he could drive himself further inside you. It didn’t seem to be enough; he needed to be closer to you, needed his cum to reach your womb.

“Sannie…!” you suddenly gasped out, when he rolled onto you and and positioned himself so that he had you in a proper mating press, his throbbing, dripping cock slipping back into you, much deeper this time.

“Need to fuck you full, baby, need you to have my cum so deep in your pretty pussy, it won’t drip out until you get home…” San began to drool into your mouth, sucking gently on your tongue, despite the way he began pounding himself into you so hard, you couldn’t seem to catch your breath, instead having to just take what he gave you.

“Please, Sannie– Please, give it to me!” You began to see stars, unknowingly sending your nails down his broad back from the vast amounts of pleasure surging through your body, unable to keep yourself from whimpering when he suddenly stopped moving completely, his cum beginning to pour inside and coat your pulsing walls with thick globs of white.

“Oh my god, there it is, baby, all for you,” San groaned huskily into your neck, pressing a few kisses into it and along your jaw, smiling sweetly at the hearts present within your own barely open, digitally enhanced eyes. He rubbed your thighs in gentle circles, sliding out for a second to let some of the milkiness spill out of your used cunt and pushed back in, just in time for his cock to twitch, filling you up with a few more pumps of hot cum. “Fuck…how was that, baby?”

“So good, San, you don’t even know…” You could hardly move, filled to the very brim with San’s load, jolts of pleasure still shooting through you, a pleasant fuzziness running along the edges of your brain. “Wish I could feel like this every day.” You bit your bottom lip, wondering if it was the leftover pleasure or the slight buzz that made you want to be honest with San. “Wish I could see you more…”

San’s expression softened, his already pink cheeks sporting a darker hue, his deep desire to see and know more about the mysterious gang leader that visited him once in a blue moon increasing tenfold. However, he didn’t know exactly how to express the myriad of things he was feeling, so he simply replied, “I wish you could too. I never want you to leave…”

“San…” you whispered, your heart just about imploding from hearing his heartfelt words, about to suck it up and tell him how you really felt when a sudden loud boom shook the walls of the club, causing a bit of dust and debris to float into the air, the distinct smell of smoke filling up your noses, the sprinklers inside the room immediately going off, along with the smoke detector.

“What the hell was that?” San gasped, sitting up, but instinctively pulling you into his arms to protect you from any harm, looking around the room for some kind of a clue.

It was then that a shaky, agitated voice came out through the speaker within the room, warning, “For those who are somehow unaware, someone set off a goddamn bomb inside the club. A fire broke out and now we’re fucked. Do you hear me? Fucked. Get out while you still can, motherfuckers.” The man’s voice grew a bit quieter, some feedback sounds ringing out, someone’s hushed voice not legible through the speakers. “No, I don’t have insurance for this shithole. How was I supposed to know some prick would set off a fucking bomb in here? You know what? You’re fired just for that. Get off my dick–”

When the announcement cut off, the both of you stared at each other for a while, slowly getting soaked by the spraying sprinklers. You saw the deep concern in San’s eyes and the sudden loss that he was trying to come to terms with. “San…”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do…This place is all I know…It was all I was programmed to know…” San murmured, not even caring that the water brought his raven bangs into his sad eyes.

You cautiously reached forward to cup his cheeks, holding them tightly. Before you could have the chance to doubt yourself, you blurted out, “Come home with me. I’ll take care of you. I’ll make sure you never have to worry about a thing.”

San’s eyes widened. He wasn’t very used to anyone giving him anything in return. He was the giver. He was always the giver. “You’d do that for me…?”

“Of course, San, I–” You caught yourself. It was too early for that, after all. Instead, you moved his hair out of the way and brought your lips to his forehead, giving it a kiss before looking back into his eyes. “I care about you. I want you to be safe…with me.”

San reached up to cradle your face within his calloused hands, feeling a warmth spread throughout his entire body, making him wonder if he was more human than robot. He smiled brightly, his eyes creasing at the corners. “Then, what are you waiting for, Y/N? Take me home.”

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catch-the-wind · 3 years ago

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when reader is sick hc's

finally posting writing here so true

n e ways okay so i’m brainrotting about the genshin charas taking care of their s/o’s when they’re sick 🥺 and now i'm feeling sick, sigh

ohm and sulien ambros belong to @teyvattherapist! they're such good chara's, i know i'm writing them here but i deffo recommend reading up on them

okay here u go, have some hc's that are kinda sorta long and by that i mean 2.5k- i haven't proofread this bc it's 4am and im going to BED but if i write for any other chara's i'll post a second part <3 mwah

tags: gn!reader, diluc x reader, kaeya x reader, jean x reader, lisa x reader, albedo x reader, dainsleif x reader, tartaglia x reader, ohm ambros x reader, sulien ambros x reader, soft bean hours

diluc

is not working or traveling when his partner is sick

absolutely makes them soup and hot tea and drinks

he’s trying to make them food but he’s not the best cook so he’s asking adelinde for help

absolutely asks jean, barbara, and ohm for help while his partner is sleeping but he’s so awkward LMAO

was absolutely frantic the first day he found out his partner was sick tho, he made them come over to the winery so they could sleep there and he can take care of them <3

absolutely lied about what room was his so they slept in his bed

“hmm this guest room is so furnished diluc are all your rooms like this” and no, no they are not, this room is his, bestie

diluc slept on a sofa in his bedroom and did work on the table that was supposed to be for flowers. kinda stressed over abyss order locations but was more worried ab his partner being okay so he was distracted

he just put the flowers on his nightstand for his partner to see when they woke up <3

gives his partner forehead kisses because they won’t let him kiss them on the lips and he gives them the gentlest cheek kisses while they sleep

also gives his partner his clothes to wear <3

cuddles them and reads to them when they’re awake and TEMPLE KISSES OH MY GOD

kaeya comes over because he’s worried his brother and his brother’s s/o haven’t been seen in a little while

n e way, diluc gets sick after his partner gets better and they nursed each other back to health

kaeya

like diluc, he took off work so he could take care of his s/o i,mediately after he found out they were sick

wouldn’t force them to stay at his place tho, he’d probably let them recover in their own place

but he might make them go to the kof hq or the cathedral just so they can be taken care of by a proper healer

he absolutely soothes their fevers and stuff w cryo and also the man can heal himself w his elem skill ofc he can fix someone if he tries hard enough <3

he gives kisses no matter how much his partner says not to but he’ll also give them butterfly kisses so it’s soft moments too~ sigh, ur too cute alberich

asks ohm and barbara and albedo and lisa for potions and such to help his partner feel better but he’s really lowkey so he doesn’t seem SUPER worried

he just hates seeing his partner not feeling so well </3

refreshes his partner’s vase of flowers at their bedside every day

brings home work so he can watch over his partner. he can’t cook super well either so he asks for help and brings stuff home from good hunter too

jean was okay to let kaeya off of work and diluc would never admit it (man practically swore everyone to secrecy smh) but he helped take up some of kaeya’s duties in his stead

and kae, the alcoholic, didn’t even drink while his partner was sick bc he was lowkey worried they would need his help w smth and he didn’t want to be drunk just in case <3

many cuddles despite protests of getting him sick <3

jean

absolutely uses her healer skills to make her partner feel better

panicked when they were still sick and thought it was her fault </3 she asked barbara and ohm for help and they just told jean to relax a bit bc her partner was sick and it wasn’t going to be a quick fix

wanted to take off work but didn’t, so she just brought her work with her

kaeya and ohm very kindly took up her other duties where she had to leave so she could be w her partner

her partner is staying in the kof hq where they get access to ohm and barbara comes to visit <3 but also so that jean can sleep comfortably enough close by bc you cannot tell me this woman does not sometimes sleep in her office or the library and barely makes it to the kof dormitories sometimes

she’s so worried the entire time, she’s probably got a few gray hairs and a new frown line smh

she has clothes that aren’t her work clothes???? it’s so foreign seeing her in stuff like pajamas. you didn’t even know jean owned pajamas

jean sets them up in her bed at home (yeah she has a place outside of the kof hq??? it’s surprising) but it’s a big bed so they can rest and she’ll have the lamp on her side on while she sits up and does work

absolutely dotes on them. she’s good at making foods that make them feel better, she’s just a good healer that way <3

albedo, klee, venti, kaeya, lisa, and ohm all come over to check on jean and co and make sure everyone is doing okay <3 lots of food brought

if jean was asked to sing to her partner normally, she probably wouldn’t bc she’d probably get embarrassed but i think she probably sounds v good and venti would give her his lyre to try out a musical instrument too. but also she’d read to her partner and they’d probably fall asleep together uwu

lisa

works part time hours at the library so she can go visit her s/o

probably asks them to stay at the kof hq for easier access to medical assistance and plus she’s almost always there

“cutie” but worried and very 🥺 (pleading emoji)

makes soup and potions and reads to her partner until they fall asleep

also super playful omg she’s still got a smile on and is full of affection while she walks her fingers up her partner’s arm to their face so she can cup their cheek

she’ll make her partner laugh and smile and blush even when they’re sick, but she makes them laugh until they cough sometimes and immediately feels so bad

jean, barbara, kaeya, albedo and ohm all come to visit with different foods and soups and medicines and such

klee comes knocking and gives lisa some good fisherman’s toast and asks lisa’s s/o if they want to hug dodoco b/c that always makes klee feel better

purple roses galore, lisa has them in her partner’s room and they’ve got a potion to make the. uh. sniffer? to make the sniffer feel better. don’t ask me how, idk but she would find a way to make them physically feel better with flowers

reads to her partner ofc, and she tells them stories ab her own life and time at sumeru sans the crazies

worried looks when her s/o is sleeping but also the softest smiles when they wake up pls-

albedo

cutest lil frown on his face when he finds out his partner is sick

immediately they are taken home and he’s testing to confirm what’s wrong w them and what he can do to speed up their recovery

he’s more distracted than usual at work but he’s coming over to your place all the time w what paperwork he can do

also sketches his partner while they don’t know. he’s got lots of beautiful candids of his partner sleeping, looking out the window, falling asleep, reading, even drinking water. he’s made the most mundane things look captivating

kaeya and ohm come to check on albedo when he doesn’t show up for work after a few days and it’s bc he’s taking care of his s/o with food and soup and alchemical potions and shit. and when kae and ohm come in, they find his partner opening the door wrapped in a blanket while albedo is asleep cuddling the pillow they left bc he stayed up the night before making soup and reading to them

klee has camped out on his partner’s couch, she helps w the cooking too~ she absolutely lets them hug dodoco and gives them a treasure to feel better too LOL

many kisses from klee and albedo, and they also go out to get treats for albedo’s partner too

domestic albedo cooking in his partner’s kitchen and for once it isn’t some alchemical potion that he might blow up the stove with

tartaglia

takes off work entirely but BOY OH BOY is he stir crazy smh

brings his partner to his apartment to rest <3

he’s so worried ab his s/o that he makes all the sick ppl food the first day, orders from wanmin restaurant when his partner wants smth different, and also gets toys and such to entertain them otherwise

also reads to his partner but, again, he gets stir crazy after a while

absolutely does workouts and katas in the living room and phew shirtless tartaglia working out? gets the heart rate up for sure ahem

rushes to his partner tho omg- need soup? water? a trip to the bathroom? another blanket? he goes to them the MOMENT he hears them moving around. absolutely dotes on them <3

his family knows ab his partner and he’s probably written letters ab them being sick~ his family sent snezhnayan herbs and flowers and medicines and such

zhongli comes around because he wants sugar daddy!tartaglia with tea and medicine from bubu pharmacy. hu tao is in tow with well wishes and a “hope i don’t find you at work!” which is. a little worrying because aren’t you just a little sick-

many kisses from tartaglia because he is Needy and he’ll absolutely get sick from cuddling his partner while they sleep

also he’ll probably just like. envelop his partner while they sleep. they’re all cuddled into him and he’s actually so warm it’s nice bc they’re cold w a fever and he’s living for comforting them

he’s so worried tho, he’s got the frowny face and he’s so adorable but he just doesn’t want his partner to feel sick

dainsleif

the man camps in ruins, he’s going to his partner’s house smh

he doesn’t go into the church either LOL so expect him in his partner’s home making dinner and doing their grocery shopping thanks

he would get ohm and barbara to come over tho <3 “fix them please” but also “how can i fix them”

is so dead set on making sure his partner takes their medicine at the right times, he’s so soft for them and them alone

cooks soup and old recipes he barely remembers from khaenri’ah. he doesn’t really get sick, so he doesn’t remember these ones too clearly. deffo brings back old memories he’d long forgotten

reads to his partner and tells them old stories of how the world used to be, his travels, gives them the gossip on a certain khaenri’ahn but doesn’t give away the name

ohm comes over with medicine and lollipops bc dain is so unlikely to go to the cathedral to get barbara smh

but also dain, so self-sufficient, is unlikely to want to ask for help, so ohm just goes to help anyway

dain with the old khaenri’ahn lullabies and tucking his partner into his arms and singing quietly while he holds them and rocks them to sleep

dain is immortal, he’s giving his partner kisses bc “i’m immortal, ofc i won’t get sick”

he got sick

but his s/o nursed him back to health and then there were smooches the end

ohm ambros

the doctor with his ill lover oh my god

he’s frowny, he’s taking care of his partner at his home in springvale and his home clinic is open to everyone else. but everyone knows his partner is the first priority LOL

kaeya and albedo come over to see if ohm is okay or if his house needs to be checked up on. they’re wondering if he went on a last-minute expedition to sumeru and didnt tell them

diluc comes over too, he’s just checking up on his best friend but he’s also stealing a cherry lollipop smh. he heard from kae that ohm’s partner is sick tho, so he brings some soup and good food over from adelinde. he also brings some of his own specialty food tho, the once upon a time in mondstadt <3

sulien sending letters to his big brother to see if his brother’s s/o is okay

ohm is also just super protective of his partner, there are not many people who come into his life who he loves and lets in in the first place. he’s absolutely trying to heal them with his own vitality, so their recovery is much shorter than initially expected

barbara also comes over w jean to check up on ohm and co, complete w a goody basket of soup, a teddy bear, flowers, and books

ohm reading to his partner <3 he’s got such a soothing voice even if his accent is wack LMAO. he’s reading stories and even his paperwork because just his presence is comforting

he puts his hands on his partner’s forehead to soothe the fever goodbye

ohm will not sing for his s/o simply bc he doesn’t think he sounds v good. and he probably doesn’t but it would be so cute to hear him try and please ohm? 🥺

n e way i want smooches idc if i’m sick KISS ME OHM AMBROS

sulien ambros

when he finds out his partner is sick, the man blinks like twice and then suggests so calmly that they go to his apartment in liyue

man does not sleep normally, he’s just going to nurse his partner back to health and read during their recovery. fruit tart can cover his duties for him <3

sulien cooks for his partner tho, he’s making soup and stuff and getting medicine from bubu’s pharmacy. he’s also picking up books on the way home but some of them are to be read to his partner so it’s okay-

like tartaglia, sulien works out while his partner rests and goes to them if he hears them moving around. he’s reading to his partner and not so frowny, but the slightest furrow of this man’s brow is already such a big expression of his concern <3

sends letters to ohm asking for advice ab how to help his partner feel better. ohm just sends a letter back with “i’m coming” and shows up within the day LMAO

reads to his partner, and the monotony of his voice is soothing and lulls them to sleep. he just looks at them affectionately (well affectionate for him) and presses a kiss to their forehead before finishing the story on his own and in his head

tartagalicious comes over and brings food, flowers and a teddy bear with some of sandrone’s paperwork but he sends a smile to sulien’s partner with some well wishes

scara comes over too just to visit and check to see where sandrone is, but scara is a grumpy bean so he just says “feel better” all brooding and like it’s a command to one of the fatui subordinates LOL

sulien like ohm uses his cold hands to soothe his partner’s fever and also gives them forehead kisses <3

Edit: a link to part 2

#genshin impact x reader #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #jean x reader #lisa x reader #albedo x reader #dainsleif x reader #tartaglia x reader #childe x reader #ohm ambros x reader #sulien ambros x reader #lane's ocs #genshin fluff #hc's #lyz.writes #i'm finally posting here omg #so many tags...#goodNIGHT

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double-hoe-seven · 3 years ago

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AFC Richmond as boyfriends

Here’s a lil headcanon collection of our favorite himbos as boyfriends.

I did it again for the staff (: AFC Richmond Staff as partners

A/N: Definitely didn’t put everyone but these were my top ones and it’s 2 AM so imma leave it here.

Sam Obisanya

The absolute sweetest man you have ever met

Such a softie, very concerned about making sure you’re happy and comfortable with whatever choices you make together.

He always picks the most random times to surprise you with things; showing up at your work randomly for lunch or with coffee/tea, random little souvenirs from his away games.

He’s always putting himself second and sometimes you have to remind him “hey, babe, you can do things for yourself, you deserve nice things too.”

Just, compliments galore with him. He’ll always find a way to compliment you on something.

The most cuddly person ever, he loves public affection (hand holding, piggy backing, hugging, kissing if it’s not raunchy, etc), he really just likes showing you off because he feels like the luckiest man in the world to have you.

He takes his time with your relationship, letting it bloom and grow at it’s own pace.

There aren’t many fights between you, hardly ever, the last “fight” you had was because you couldn’t unanimously decide which dog to rescue. The solution? You adopted both, now you share a one-eyed Jack Russell Terrier named Starro and a three legged German Shepherd puppy named Harry (Pawter. He was so proud at his pun when he showed you the then 3-month old puppy.)

Again, just the sweetest, more romantic man you’ve ever met and ever will meet.

thesexisgoodtoo. hesaverygentleandgivinglover

Isaac McAdoo

Man’s stubborn.

I mean it, he is as stubborn as a mule.

I’M DEAD SERIOUS, he once pouted for 5 days when you accidentally ate the last Rolo in the flat.

But he’s also romantic in a sort of rugged way?

He won’t go shopping with you but he knows what colors look best on you, he knows what styles look good on you, and he has your sizes and shades memorized.

Bear.

Mr. sometimes-crank-teddy-bear over here.

He’ll say he doesn’t want something but he will eat half of your food if given the chance. If you step away from your food to get a drink or something, there will be a good part mission when you get back.

Its a tradition to go on a date the morning of a game, and snuggle up with a movie after the game.

You have had more than a few drunk texts from him, all of them equally funny and full of sexual innuendos.

You don’t address his Rolo addiction. It could be something much worse anyway.

Richard Montlaur

So many visits to the goat farm he was raised on!

He really has to drag you back to London after visiting his parents because you don’t want to leave all the precious goats (and you and his parents get along famously).

You spend alternating holidays with each others families (except for Bastille day, you always spend that either together or with his family.)

There are always roses in your shared flat.

It’s a constant battle over his facial hair.

He has a grudge against the way the English make French pastries.

He has a habit of falling asleep on the couch or in uncomfortable positions and then wondering why his back or neck hurts.

Little spoon.

He’s teaching you French.

This man is a smooth operator, master at flirtation and romance. He’s good at planning romantic dates and outtings.

Dani Rojas

You 100% believe his mom when she says he was born caffeinated.

One of your first dates was a Mumford and Sons concert which was an interesting experience.

Soft boi hours with him. He’s a lil puppy dog.

Does this man ever sleep? Rarely.

He rises with the son and wants to get the day started immediately but he’s mostly letting you sleep in now.

He LOVES trying new things, exploring new places, generally having new experiences.

His absolute favorite thing to do when he’s not training is playing football (or any game, really) with the kids in your neighborhood. They all love him.

He’s a sweet boyfriend, not as sweet as Sam but he’s a close second.

You alternate who plans date night. You split the chores 50/50 but divvy it up if one of you is sick or has more work to do.

There’s so much alcohol in your flat its unreal.

You usually go to sleep before him but he has a bad habit of throwing himself into bed and partially waking you.

He makes the best breakfast most mornings.

And don’t forget the trips back home to visit his family in Guadalajara.

After a long day of training, he loves just laying down with his head on your lap while you run your fingers through his hair.

Jamie Tartt (Season 1)

FUCK NO

Jamie Tartt (Season 2)

On your first date you got drunk and bonded over shitty fathers.

Not that either of you really remembered the next day, you were both too hungover to immediately recall the night.

His love language is kind words.

At the start he needed a lot of reassuring that you did care about him for who he was, warts and all.

He’s slightly awkward when it comes to romantic gestures so most of the date planning falls on you don’t mind.

He still has some high maintenance behavior but he’s working on it and you’re proud of how far he’s come from the prick he used to be.

Your fights are usually over petty shit like where to eat for dinner or what movie to go see.

He will not hesitate to buy your feminine products for you. He knows your preferred brands and sizes and what treats you like when its that time.

He’s good at those rigged carnival games, the many little stuffed animals in your closet can attest to that.

He talks in his sleep. It’s all nonsense.

He has a soft spot for the neighbor’s cat (and cats in general).

Roy Kent

Rugged.

He’s great to snuggle up to.

The man is honest to boot. He doesn’t sugar coat anything at all.

10/10 times he will go down on you if asked. He’s a giver.

He is the heaviest sleeper in the world. You don’t know why he bothers setting alarms.

Phoebe has a room at your flat and spends so much time with you both.

Many nights have been spent reading different books on the couch together.

He has to clean the drains since 75% of it is his.

Fuck is a very versatile word in your home, used daily.

Not the most romantic man alive but he has his moments.

Date nights are usually relaxed and proper but sometimes you can make the old man have a little fun.

He growls at least a dozen times a day, it’s his main response.

Jan Maas

My beloved

My sweet, beloved Jan who can’t/won’t use a filter to save his life.

He’s blunt in everything and sometimes it makes you want to slap him.

Jan is still getting used to English ways and mannerisms.

He has good intentions but sometimes needs a little help with wording.

He likes going on Aquarium dates.

The more tired he is, the clingier he is and it’s too cute.

Once after a game he plopped onto the couch next to you and basically tried to curl up in your lap.

He can make amazing pancakes.

Thats it though.

You’ll do most of the cooking if you value living in a flat that’s not on fire.

He’s a sweetheart though.

Mostly good intentions though.

Doesn’t mind nudity and had to quickly be reined in by the team. Not at home though.

At home he can easily be found lounging in boxers and a t-shirt while he sips coffee.

He knows what he’s doing.

Tag Team: @bdffkierenwalker

#Ted Lasso #Jan Maas #Isaac McAdoo #Dani Rojas #Roy Kent #Jamie Tartt #Sam Obisanya #Richard Montlaur #AFC Richmond Himbos #AFC Richmond #AFC Richmond Greyhounds #Emotional Support Himbos #I love them all your honor #Jan Maas my beloved #Sam Obisanya is baby

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missgeniality · 4 years ago

Text

A Work Of Art (m)

“In our life there is a single color, as on an artist’s palette, which provides the meaning of life and art. It is the color of love.” - Marc Chagall

➺ Banner: The lovely @dee-ehn 💕

➺ Pairing: Jimin x Female Reader

➺ Genre: PWP, Smut, Slightest Angst

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Word Count: 7.3k

➺ Summary: You surprise Jimin with his Filter outfit; and then some.

➺ Warnings: tongues get tired in this fic, dom!jimin, we talk about spit, some biting, jimin loves praise, lingerie n stuff, nipple play, oral sex (m&f receiving), we talk more about spit, some bondage is involved, degrading names, blindfolds, spanking (maybe too much, don’t look @ me), light choking, light face-fucking, cum eating, we talk even more about spit, hickeys galore, some edging?, unprotected sex (don’t do it kids, not even for Jimin)

➺ Author’s Note: (repost bc tags, you know how it is) huge s/o to @ilikemesometaetaes for making time to beta read this monstrosity 💜 thank youuuu! Also thanks to @honeiibeehobi, @kithtaehyung for helping me with the many many details & @ppersonnafor hyping up this idea or else it would have never seen the light of day ;_; lol i will come back to edit this cuz this didnt let me focus on my paper due tonight so if you see a spelling mistake or tense error umm no you didnt 👀

do let me know your thoughts!! the smallest feedback goes a long way! 💛💛

This is the first part of my Dress Down series, find more at it’s masterlist!

Y/N: soooooo, I did a thing. JM: is the dishwasher flooding our kitchen again? Y/N: -_- i’ll give you two more guesses. JM: oh no. you picked up a dog from the street again. Y/N: come onn!! JM: y/n, last time you picked one up, HE HAD AN OWNER Y/N: you’re down to your last try, or else i’m taking this off. JM: … JM: so its something you have on? 😏 Y/N: pic_210124.jpg JM: holy shit JM: wait wait fuck JM: keep the door unlocked.

“You like?”

The bob in his Adam’s apple wordlessly conveys the answer you’re looking for.

A crisp, white, button down shirt, tucked into black trousers, topped off with a panama hat that matches your top half is the view Jimin comes home to. Your dress pays homage to Jimin’s Filter outfit - actually, the exact one - the one that showcased his immaculate dance moves, the one that exposes his delicious collarbones, the one that brings the irresistible urge to bite your way up his neck - the one he eventually rids.

If you had to pick a color, he is a flustered orange, bright and blushing, turned on by the indecent implication of your very decent outfit.

You’re on the counter, one leg crossed over the other, accentuating the swell of your ass. Landing on the pads of your feet, you take a few steps towards the man with the unhinged jaw.

“Babe.” a mellow croak - Jimin can’t get a whole sentence out without saliva pooling and obstructing his speech. “You, in my clothes… fuck.”

Chuckling at his very obvious loss of words, you give him a twirl, allowing him to fully soak in your outfit.

“Was waiting for you.”

Three long strides and you were in his arms, a pair of lips desperate to invade your space and claim you. An Angel on your shoulder tells you to give in; after all, this is the end result - what you both want.

However, the Devil on the other side, no no no. It wants you to make him suffer. To get revenge for all the times you were taken control of. It remembers all the days he turned you on with shoot photographs and all the nights he brought you to the brink only to stop you from tipping over with a cocky smirk and a cheeky wink.

The Devil was created from the moments when you thought you would actually erupt, begging for release, only to be shoved aside with a single growl of ‘don’t you fucking dare.’

Your desire to please him effectively silenced the Devil and kept it at bay. But no more. All those times built up and gave your Devil the power to force its way against your will to restrain it, causing it to rise to the surface.

You will have the upper hand.

So you push him away, keeping him at an arm’s length for your safety to have him on his toes. Forlorn eyes meet your steely ones, and you physically stop yourself from giving in to his puppy gaze - those eyes can turn icy and sultry when nailing you into the bed like his rent depended on it.

“Sit there. I have a-” You turn to switch on some music, “-small present for you.”

“If the small present isn’t me folding you in half and fucking you till sunrise,” He sits with visible reluctance, irises slowly transforming into magma orbs, “I don’t want it.”

“Well, we’ll see… Depends on how you behave.”

On a normal day, this comment would have lit your ass on fire, pronto.

Today isn’t a normal day at all.

You stride on, every noiseless step you take leaving a wreckage of nerves behind, ignoring the smoldering gaze he has locked on you- you are unsure whether he is deciding your punishment or simply admiring how his clothes fit on your body.

You stand on the side, drinking him in.

From your viewpoint, this is ridiculous. Those cursed jeans, vacuumed onto his thighs, ensure your eyes don’t miss a single ridge. His legs are spread out, beckoning you to have a seat, and the Angel once again begs for some reprieve. He knows what he’s doing; knows you inside and out- knows you couldn’t miss a chance to ride him like this. The wicked smirk flashing back at you is confirmation.

But you stymy that thought at its root. Walking behind, you wrap your arms around him to faintly buss his cheek.

“Sooo I was watching Filter…”

Jimin hums against your feeble touch. He wants more. The soft wind of your breath routing through his jeweled ear sends a wave of goosebumps down his spine. From behind, you run your hands over his sinewy biceps, taut in restraint - holding themselves back against the suffering you are putting him through.

“You do know how fucking hot you looked, right?” You playfully let your tongue toy with the hanging ornament, the briefest of flicks causing Jimin’s shoulders to push back, trying to connect with your bosom.

With a crooked finger under his jaw, you bring him to meet your eyes- eyes that are adorned with layered shadows of deep maroons, a variety of colors blending into your skin tone, eyelashes piqued up and ready to reach the clouds.

“So pretty…” He whispers out as you place your hat on its rightful throne - Jimin’s head.

A lone digit traces the lines of art you etched for him, appreciating every single stroke you put in to make a memorable time. Warm merigold rays bloom in your chest in response to his gaze, with him looking at you like you invented the sky. Pupils are dilated, and the only reason you can see each other is because of the practically nonexistent distance between you.

His eyes pick up on your tapering resolve to keep him in line. A light quiver of need passing your lips as you hopelessly vie for dominance is what most likely gives you away.

Grabbing you by the neck, he pulls you into a deep kiss, plunging his tongue into you with reckless abandon like he was a nomad all this while and your mouth has finally claimed him home. Your neck strains at the awkward angle and surely even his is hurting, but the pressure of his hand is unrelenting.

His tongue searches and searches, desperately looking for a part in you he has not yet explored. You’d think the years of togetherness would have diminished this fiery attraction but no, he comes onto you like he has a mission to prove - to validate his love for you, to plead you to be his. You would happily accept this shower of affection, returning it with due interest.

With great difficulty you part, a string of spit still connecting your lips because he has not let you move far enough. “Uh-uh. Be good.” You pout a little, breaking character.

“You’re here. In my clothes. A walking dream. How the fuck am I to be good?” He pulls you back in to continue what you cut short but you break the line of spit and his intention with a hand wedged between your faces.

“I asked you a question, Mister.” Back on your cocky nature, you graze your lips against oh-so-lightly, barely giving him anything to feel, but the tingling on his skin shows he can feel it all.

The adoration moves into a competition, “You tell me, sweetness - how did I look?”

It’s always the praise. He loves it when you struggle to tell him his dick was crafted by the heavens when you’re choking on it, but he still makes you do it. You stutter and stumble your words when his lips smack against your cunt, devouvering and digging for the treasure of your cum, but he forces you to tell him. When you sit on his dick, your brain has no sense of diction or direction, only chasing the high at his mercy, but he makes you scream it out loud, letting everyone beyond the pearly gates know, between moans and wails, that only he can break you down this way.

“This shirt, sweetie.” Your nose trails the path between his collar and the ends of his hair, basking in the sweet vanilla scent, “You’re all covered. Why, pray tell,” You dig your teeth into the point where his shoulder meets his neck, “does this sole patch of skin turn me on so bad?”

He sucks in an inhale through his clenched teeth, his stunning visage devoid of any virtue. His head is thrown back, hat toppling over in the movement and giving you a larger canvas to mark, an opportunity you happily grasp. The mellifluous tones he is producing is recorded in your mind for lonelier nights to come.

“And the red suit? Fuck, your corseted waist?” At the corner of your eye you see his fingers clenching into a fist, your lush voice making it harder and harder for him to breathe.

You slowly stride forward, painfully slow, letting him notice every single muscle of your body curving to his unspoken command, undoing one button at a time until your torso is revealed- and shows the true purpose of your scarlet eye makeup.

A deep burgundy camisole, ribbed at the waist to accentuate the way your hips flow has Jimin salivating to no end. The strappy number, with carmine ribbons flowing into your yet to be removed bottom half- a deed Jimin intends on rectifying very, very soon- calls to him sinfully. The lingerie twists and ties in incomprehensible ways, but the amount of cleavage it gives you is ungodly.

If they weren’t already, Jimin’s eyes are now wide open.

Time comes to a standstill as he checks out your whole figure, taking in every embroidered pattern on the lingerie and every embellishment on your breasts. Before, you were already a five-star meal, but now? An emperor’s feast.

The little flower right on top of your nipple has Jimin’s attention. His thumb comes up to trace the bedecked rose, following the stitched line of stem that takes him to the peak, then drawing over petal by petal. Each time he reaches close to your hardened nub, he abstains from crossing over it, making your nipple hardens imperceptibly under the presentiment of any relief and the disappointment when nothing arrives. His other hand, sitting on your waist, coaxes you to straddle him while he plays gardner on your bust.

“Jimin…” Your nipple, finally finding solace under his thumb, is not faring too well under the attention. Your plan of teasing him is slipping through your fingers like sand.

“Tell me baby, what do you want?” His finger is now tracing the seams of your lingerie cups, admiring the way they frame your ample bosom. Things are progressing too slow for your liking, and you come clean with your ignoble intentions.

“Please, I just want to suck you off.”

A wad of spit lands directly into your cleavage, followed by two thick fingers penetrating the lubed entrance.

“Nope.” His fingers continue to shallowly fuck your cleavage. Neither of you are being touched in the erogenous zone, but why does it feel so good? Your valley is inundated with his dribble, coating your ensemble and shifting shades to a deep cerise. Every pump of his nimble fingers between your breasts is like a promise of what your pussy is going to go through. Will he fuck you hard and fast with your voice echoing across the room, making every neighbor privy of your sexual escapedes? Will he be slow and gentle, penetrate you with utmost care, soft gasps and whines only sounded to the two of you? You can never guess.

In the aphrodisiac moment, you forgot that you were supposed to take charge.

“Please, please, please! I did so much,” You take the guilt route. If Jimin was anything, he was a just and fair man. “Can’t I get that much?”

Jimin’s gaze has not left your wet cleavage. A flit of his eye makes contact with yours and goes back to the fucking - that is enough language for you to understand his needs. You bend low, and spit out a fat glob onto your chest to add to the mess he has already made. The groan that leaves him is ungodly, and he licks the spit you unloaded onto yourself, spreading it all over your expensive wear. He slurps like you released sweetened water to a parched traveller, your bosom holding all the sweetness to itself.

Gathering your thoughts is more difficult than you could ever imagine. The cloth over your nipples is completely soaked, bitten into and sticking to your skin thanks to the vacuum Jimin pulled on them. Your back has had a workout, every vertebrae bent to its maximum possibility. Chiropractors are so last year, you just have your boyfriend ravish your breasts.

“Once I’m done, you can do whatever you want.”

All of your five brain cells had to be put in action to form that sentence. The moment the words left your lips, the pressure your breasts were on had been released, but you could still feel lips against you, stretching into a snarky smirk.

“Whatever?” His grip on your waist tightens, seating you more firmly onto his taut thighs.

Whatever. That stupidly amazing word.

“Saying ‘whatever’ always lands you in trouble. Have you forgotten?” His damp lips are tracing your collarbones, nibbles whenever he felt appropriate. How does he expect you to form a damned sentence like this, the Devil on your shoulder indignantly asks. The Angel on the other has gone back in time to fetch memories filed under the term ‘whatever’, strictly saved for your quality alone-time.

The first time you told him to do ‘whatever he wants’ was fairly early into your relationship. Sex was as vanilla as the ice cream tastebud-less people liked, and none of you ever pushed it too far. A happy, drunken night with a loose-lipped confession from him.

“God, the things I want to do to you…” he had muffled into your hair, maybe not even intended for your ears to pick up.

A cheeky giggle had bubbled out of your tipsy self. “Like what, tie me up?”

If Jimin then were a color, he was a pantone pink. Blushed cheeks from the alcohol and the realization that you had caught him, airbrushed with a depth you weren’t able to put in place that early in the relationship. Wide-eyed horror was shown in its place, possibly exaggerated to add to the denial he had landed himself in.

“No no, of course, I don’t mean it like that, what ar-”

“Why not?”

The animal that awoke after confirming with you fifteen times was a force to be reckoned with. Your bra had turned into rope, wrists bound behind as he roughly squished your helpless cheeks.

“You will tell me when to stop, right?” His tongue peeked lightly, brushing your top lip, taking the perspiration away.

“Uhmf-yufh!”

“God, you’re gonna regret this baby.”

But it was exactly the opposite. You got the railing of a lifetime, heard the filthiest words that could leave the lips of such a courteous man - a side you had not expected at all. You couldn’t possibly recollect every single move he made, but what you can recollect with excruciating detail is every feeling you felt that night. It was filled with lust, with revelations of the new ways your body could bend, a night of puppetry where Jimin played you like the master your body craved. The following day was Jimin taking care of you, big puppy eyes wondering whether he took it too far. In his daze of letting go of control, he couldn’t take in your lidded stare, heaving with satisfaction - so you made sure he could witness them when he took you the next time that morning.

The other time the wretched word was mentioned was during an argument. You’re not jealous of Jimin on stage - it’s his career and you were one of the girls offering one of their kidneys to be able to catch a glimpse of him.

But your workspace? That’s where you draw the line.

She was a random worker. Some third-floor low-lying soul. You were eighth-floor premium material (the floors didn’t decide shit, but no one can tell you what skyscraper semantics you can craft in your brain). A lifeless party that even Jimin’s colorful locks couldn’t color up.

This random worker was very enamored by Jimin (as she should, the man is a whole nine-course meal). Supportive fans are not what get you jealous either.

But the limit is when placed her scrawny fingers on Jimin’s hand, drawing the glass in his grip to her lips and took a sip from it. If her lashes were fanned they could blow a man away (which is probably more than what her puny mouth could possibly do). The fume exiting your ears could have been in bright red for all you care, because every office member had been rightfully annoyed.

The whole car ride back was filled with your drunken blabbers about the different ways you could skin her. The actual victim beside you was not making a nearly big enough deal out of it, intending to let you get rid of your temper.

“She fucking knew!” Your normally clean disposition had taken its leave after the fuming temper took real estate in your brain, and you aimlessly threw your heel at some corner of the house - hungover self shall have to deal with this angry mess you’ve made. Wait, you’re an angry mess too.. “The gall she had, I should jus-”

You march towards the door, in hopes of what, you don’t know. But if you didn’t take action you’ll probably explode. Any action, just anything. You never find out though, because a strong arm slithered around your waist and halted your expedition.

“Calm down, feisty. Where are you going now?” His soothing voice, punctuated with a mocking chuckle almost quelled the fire in you. Almost.

But you’re not done being an idiot.

“To go find her for you. You’d fuck the living daylights out of her, right?”

The loudest silence you have ever encountered. Jimin’s grip on your waist tightened to the point where it could have hurt. Like he was trying to push every iota of that thought out of your body. From behind, you can hear a deep breath dragging, and somewhere in your irate head you knew you had struck a nerve, a bad one. Jimin is forced to expel any anger bubbling in him, trying to use reason with an unreasonable recipient.

“Princess, you don’t actually think I’d do that right?”

“I don’t know!” Your misplaced anger had reached the rooftops. Jimin had done nothing wrong here except try to calm an increasingly livid girlfriend. “Maybe you’d love that. Her itty-bitty waist, that whore’s outfit she had on. You call me a whore right? Maybe she’s more worthy of you!”

“Y/N.”

The timbre of his voice had completely changed. The breathy, airy aura had completely departed from your name he had just called. The lack of nicknames raised some hair at the nape of your neck, but you’re a stubborn one.

“Ugh, I don’t care.”

You tried to walk back to your room, head still reeling in a palace of inferno, burning everything that dares to intrude your path - but somehow, you had been pushed to a wall, and the eyes of the man you loved had turned feral.

If Jimin was a color, he was green - igniting with fury, anger repressed in dark shadows that never made the light of the day until pushed - but you pushed all right. And now released from its shackles, it has surrounded you and slammed you against the wall - and you have nowhere to go.

“You’re my whore. Is that a complaint from my stupid, stupid whore?”

The only joint you’re free to move is your neck, and your gratuitous self decided to rebel with whatever degree of freedom you have. Turning your face away to not meet his seething eyes, you continue your rebel-without-a-cause tantrum.

“Whatever.” you carped out.

Again, with that stupid word, you had signed your fate for the night.

Usually, you can express your feelings. Be it pain or pleasure (sometimes the two packed in one), you could wail it out to the heavens and respite would follow.

Usually, you can see the torments laid out on you. Jimin’s lithe body performing every obscene spell he invoked is a treat for your eyes. He treats your body like an artisan, using any medium to paint his art on you.

But that day, you were stripped of them both, and made to realize what a privilege they were.

Mouth stuffed with your bunched up panties, eyes blinded by his tie of the evening, you could only rely on the sensors on your skin to somehow predict what was going to be done to you. And you failed. Every single time. Every thwack fell on a new area. Every teasing touch tickled you at a new place. Nothing could begin to prepare you for his next move and you couldn’t keep up with his tameless pace.

He made you beg through the makeshift gag, beg to let you come, then beg to stop coming, beg for every orifice of yours to be filled by his seed and then beg to get cleaned by him. With the first rays of morning sunlight, language was an illusion, time was an out-of-reach concept, and all you knew was the worshipping of last night.

Whatever is a word. Whatever is mean. Whatever is filthy. Whatever is nailing you into the bed and rendering you immobile for the entire day. Whatever may just be a word to anyone, but to you it is what has you losing sense of reality, giving in to a phantasm of your wildest dreams.

A wet tap on your cheek brings you back from you imagining the past - the fingers that were fucking your cleavage are squishing your cheeks, bringing your attention back from all your dirty memories to the present - to create another memory to add to your folder.

If Jimin is a color, he is the darkest of all blacks. This is where everything pious comes to meet its sordid end. His sultry gaze is reading your eyes, searching for where you got lost, which shared memories of passed time made you melt into the puddle that you are right now.

“I said, don’t you remember? ‘Whatever’?”

Let’s see. You don’t have work tomorrow. You don’t have any commitments. You don’t have to meet anyone.

So there is no reason for you to be able to move.

“Hmmmmn, I don’t seem to recall - you could remind me.”

Dark, dark chuckles from such a cherubic face. You flounder off his lap to shuck your (his) pants away, revealing the matching maroon garter belt set. The whole outfit is an ode to Jimin’s mid performance transformation, the one that made many people’s hearts skip a quick beat. His slim, cinched waist, the flared pants flowing down his frame were one for the books, and you’d like to think your rendition has its place too.

Giving him a quick spin, you attempt to get down to business - but Jimin pulls you back on his lap. Without the pants, you can feel it - his hard, thick cock straining against the tough jean fabric and still making its presence known.

“Tell me more, baby. What did you like?”

The man was a sucker for your praise.

You were a sucker for the whole man.

But the sucking will probably have to wait.

“I loved your expressions. You’re so sexy on stage, fuck. Going around and giving bedroom eyes to the world.”

His hand gripping you ass gives it a quick pinch, but voice just let out a lazy hum to get you to continue.

“The choreography,”, your whisper is strained, “you dance like you fuck baby. So sensual, so sexy.”

You lick a stripe up his neck, from his artistic collarbones to the back of his ear, the sensitive spot that makes him hiss is arousal. You stay there, wanting to whisper the next few lines. The world didn’t need to know your thirst for this.

“You know my favorite part?”

“Oh, tell me.” His voice is hitting lower and lower in pitch, much like it’s hitting you lower and lower in your body.

You place the hand framing his face on his neck - the same one you want to cover in blooms of purple and red, lightly squeezing, letting him preen under the pressure. The tightness has Jimin’s head falling back on the headrest, and you can feel his pulse hastening to accommodate for the lacking oxygen in his stream.

Letting go of his throat, and pleased to see the lightest indentation on his beautiful pale skin, you snake your hands downward.

“Na, na, na,” Inching slowly towards your end goal, you whisper the tune into his ear, “na na na, na, na na”, covering every part with an indulgent languish, “pick your filter”.

Your hand finally reaches its destination - you grab his bulge and squeeze the hardness, making Jimin buck his hips against your palm.

“Namaneul damabwa.”

It’s a low whisper from his lips, but even in the gravelly sound you can hear how melodious he is, how the song rolls off of his tongue and was made for his vocal color. The whisper is laced with lust, with want, with desire, all the feelings you portrayed for him in his performance.

That, and in life in general.

You shuffle and sit to the side, simultaneously unbuttoning his jeans to get him some relief for the ache he had going on. Finally, you acquiesce and free his dick from its cages.

Every time you see him is a wonder to you. Hard, ridged, the right amount of veins to stimulate the walls of your cunt. Head leaking from the eons of teasing you’ve been doing, right from the text you sent to seconds ago. You bend down to clean him up, tasting the saltiness of his seed that has coated the head. Jimin’s lips are facing the brunt of your deeds - his teeth have found near permanent residence in its plushness, digging deep to keep from moaning too early, from giving you the pleasure. He is going to make you work.

Well, you must get to work.

Slowly, slowly, you dip your head in further, sucking lightly with each move, tongue tracing every vein on his dick. As you move your head back up, Jimin’s hand pushes into your back, making it arch further, and then you go down on his dick. His finger lightly follows the curve of your back, from your upper back all the way to the band of your lace panties.

Hooking a finger underneath the lace fabric of your panty that had disappeared in between your mounds of flesh, he pulls at it - hard. Your throat revolts against the intrusion as you gag, and the fabric presses into your clit. The concentrated abrasion turns into pleasure - he uses it to arch your back further, and bring your ass closer so that he can-

Smack!

The spank sends you forward and you choke on his dick further, throat giving in to his hardness.

“So good for me baby. Look at that ass.” He grabs one cheek, bubbled with the way your panties are now, squeezing and testing the firmness of your glutes.

Your plans of torturing him are shot; the Devil on your shoulder is strangely mute. Awakening the brat, you slip a hand under and toy with his balls, pulling back to provide your throat some recess. Your saliva mixed with his precum is an gushing mess, glistening on his balls and now coating your palms as you play with light squeezes - the existing stiffness caused by your teasing arousal mixed with your playful fingers make Jimin buck into your mouth, releasing a delicious groan in the process.

A second spank is a warning, either you increase your pace or reap some serious consequences. You consider the consequences; they are very compelling. You could end with delicious marks of ownership from this delicious man. But he deserves the best suck of his life, and you’re going to do just that.

Hollowing your mouth, you go further down, till his head is poking an uninvaded point in your throat, and Jimin lets out a surprising note. A groan, no, a roar, but a tinge of whine mixed in it, like the pleasure is too much for him.

You continue to swallow around, hand pumping the length you couldn’t take in, interlarded with swipes on his tight balls, leaving Jimin to be a heaving mess. Your ass is not faring better, bearing the brunt of his replies. You’re positive his fingerprints are imprinted on your asscheek, and one sit on his phone can unlock it. The line of your panties is drenched with your sopping wetness and lodged between the lips.

“God, I’m so close baby, just a little more.”

You would fervently nod in acceptance to whatever demand he places; in this position, he could ask you for the world and you would have it at his disposal. But what stops you are his ringed fingers lodged in your hair, pushing you in further, determined to spill deep in your throat, to the point where you don’t even have to swallow to get everything down.

“Fuck, such a good girl for me.” Jimin appraises how deep he is going, how your throat is accommodating him and quivering around his length. Bunching your hair up into a makeshift ponytail, he stops them from obstructing his vision - the view of you struggling to take him in, toiling to keep the need to breathe at bay while you tend to his needs, worshipping his dick like its the last meal you’ll ever get - your desperate adulation takes him over the brink.

Jimin erupts into your mouth; an ungodly amount at that. It is the hardest he’s come in a while, and given your lifestyle, that’s saying something. Even a cum-hungry whore like you can’t possibly swallow that much in one go, and you are forced to let the globs dribble down his now-softening member. The two of you are heaving, catching a breath - completely different circumstances but the same result.

The way you’re looking at him right now; his dick is already twitching to go for a second lap. Dilated pupils staring back, like you were at the receiving end of the orgasm - you are staring at him like he hung every star in the sky. Strings of cum are leaking out of the corners of your lips, ones he really wants to lap up with his tongue. Instead, you daintily dab it away - as innocent as pecking stray drops of ice cream off your mouth.

You look at him with teasing eyes. “Want a taste baby?”

Running your tongue along the mess you (or he) made, you gather the remnant cum that didn’t go into you, and instead flooded his groin. Straddling back onto his lap, you go in for a kiss but stop halfway.

Jimin is looking, waiting with lust hungry eyes. Slightly pained by the pause, he whines.

“What?”

“Open your mouth.”

From a height, you let his cum and your spit drop into his mouth, a groan of satisfaction emanating as Jimin’s tongue accepts it with great delight. He tastes his juices, they somehow feel sweeter coming from your mouth. He pushes the glob you dropped on his tongue against the roof of his mouth, letting every taste bud bathe in relish. When he’s sucked all flavor out of the globule he swallows it. On opening his eyes and landing back from heaven to earth, he sees you admiring his adam’s apple, the way it bobbed when he swallowed your offering.

Jimin’s eyes trace your current state; you look beautiful. The strappy red lingerie wet from Jimin’s treatment perfectly showcases your peaked nipples, ready for another round of torture. His shirt, through all this has managed to stay hanging on your shoulders. The curves of your sinful waist accentuated by the ribbons of the wear, like roads down a windy path, every ribbon vanishing into their destination, between your curvaceous thighs.

Slipping his fingers under the band, he decides he has not played with the lingerie enough, tugging it up once again - a sharp inhale and you’re moving along with it, upward to balance between the point of pain and pleasure. Jimin makes sure you don’t tip in favor of one. Grabbing you by the neck, Jimin harshly pulls you down into a deep kiss.

He’s done waiting, done watching you take the reins. His tongue tells you that you now can only react to his doings. Deepening the kiss, you let your mind walk places. Back to his performance, his stage presence, the aura he exudes when he is in his element. His sinful body melding to the flow of the beat, like the music was made to his movement - his piercing gaze that could leave an insentient camera with blushed cheeks - but a sharp bite pulls you right back to the present to remind you that this is also Jimin in his complete element. Pillowy lips, incandescent with every brush, sucked and nipped with fervor. But it still didn’t satisfy. It wasn’t nearly enough. Starved, you wanted to scream at every imperceptible air pocket between the two of you - as if you knew in your soul they were guilty of keeping you away.

Jimin pulls away, and his words shut you down before the whine leaves you.

“About that ‘whatever’…” his sinister eyes are a window to his brain churning something unimaginable to close the night - sinister in uppercase. Make it bold. Underline that shit. That’s him.

In the bat of an eye, you are face down on the sofa - Jimin’s rock hard thighs are straddling you, making sure you can handle his weight. In all the coarseness, he takes care of the smallest of things. An untimely smile creeps up on your face at the thought, the tender show of affection amidst the rough push and pull affecting your immersion, but you can’t say you don’t like it.

Feeling a rough jerk on your shoulder, you try to look back, just in time to receive Jimin’s ravenous gaze; he looks at you like he will eat you alive, and by the end of the night you plan on having just that. Pulling back your now-unbuttoned shirt and bunching its ends, he anchors you to the position of his choice by tying your hands behind.

Smelling a line up your neck all the way up to your hair, he briefly pauses to ask “Okay?”

Your tiny nod is enough for Jimin to carry on with whatever godless plan he has chalked out for you.

“I hope you had your fun. Because I’m not going easy on you.”

Light banter could cause no trouble. Atleast, not more than you already have. “When have you ever?”

Flashbacks of the blossoming days of your relationship flicker in Jimin’s mind, their fugacious presence a telling sign of how long it has been. Looking downward, he can only thank his alcohol-induced blabbering of that night as that is the reason he can enjoy the view he has right now.

“Maybe I should take it easy?” His tongue flits across your neck, too soft for your liking, torturous like his liking.

His fingers are playing with the straps and your now exposed upper back. It’s always been a favorite place of his. The whole expanse looks resplendent when he is done tasting you. Maroon and purple florets on your beautiful, glowing skin. And then you purposely wear dresses to show it all off, to show who your heart belongs to. He loves that about you.

You gyrate lightly, snapping him out of his daze, begging him to take you hard and fast. “Jimin, please.” a low drawl leaves you as you try to not slobber all over the cushion.

Jimin shifts lower to straddle your thighs. Snaking his hand between your legs, he finds your clit and plays with it, every press releasing a different sound from different depths of your throat. A particularly low grunt appears when he slips two fingers into your channel with smooth ease, and pushes you up from the inside.

“Ass up for me.”

His fingers stay lodged inside as you raise your hips to obey him, pulling you up further and further till he is satisfied with your position. God, your pussy looks wrecked. With every pump of his fingers you gush our more liquid, and Jimin gathers the escaping drops on this tongue.

“So perfect for me, this hole.” You can feel the cold metal of his rings drawing circles inside you as he prepares you to take his cock. His tongue, drawing completely different characters is too slow for your liking - he seems to be more satisfied in drinking your cum dripping from his fingers instead of paying attention to your throbbing clit. Seconds go by, several hinting moans of dissatisfaction go by, but the Devil on your shoulder seems to have returned and is asking for more. A hip raise, that’s all. His tongue will be right where you want.

What you got instead was a sharp bite on your already battered ass - Devil, hey, where did you go? “Behave.” He grunts against your pussy, and a fresh wave of arousal escapes you with a third finger making its way in. “Don’t like it? Too,” Smack! “Fucking.” Smack! “Bad.”

The last spank hit you hard, leaving your cunt soaked to the core. He is trying to get a rise out of you, and you are falling for it. Your smarting skin is at its breaking point, but let’s not pretend like you don’t want this either.

“Baby please, I’m so close.” You’re close to tears with how long you’ve been this turned on. Maybe Jimin will have a change of heart seeing you like this.

“Don’t.”

Well maybe not.

He’s using your hole like playdough - for his fancy, with no end goal in sight. He doesn’t seem to want you to come anytime soon and it is bothering you to no end. The tightening coil in your belly is almost painful at this point - but he doesn’t seem to want to let up anytime soon.

“You taste so sweet baby, almost don’t want to let you come, so you keep dripping like this.”

His fingers curl into you to hit that spot, and God, you’re seeing stars right now. Curling up your fists into a ball and trying to keep the threatening tsunami at bay, you jerk into his mouth and continue to sway to the tune his fingers play inside you. If desperation had a poster girl, they could take your photo right now.

“If you let me come I -ohhh- I will- I will give you more.” Your words are broken, every push into your cunt halting your flow of speech.

A split second later you are empty. He’s pulled away from you, and you think the finger-fucking torture you were going through was almost better than this. Your walls flutter in empty anguish.

“Better keep your promise then.” Finally, you hear Jimin shuffling behind, but your muscles feel too alive and too dead at the same time. At crossroads, you are unable to get yourself to move, to twist or turn and witness the glory of him, the scrunch of his features, the grit of his pronounced jaw, his lips heaving a sigh as he pushes his girthy self into your leaking hole.

Jimin’s forehead is lined with sweat, jaws hurting from the tight clench he had trying to not nut into you too soon. Now they revolt in pain, ready to pass on their trouble to his dick and release into you the moment he fits himself in. But he held off; he had plans for you - long plans.

As he slowly pulls himself out, you can’t help but mewl at the pleasure your walls are feeling, with every ridge of his cock pressing all the right spots inside you, the snug fit when he’s pulled out all the way only leaving the head inside you. Then, you can’t help but yell, expressing a mixture of anguish and pleasure when his hips snap to push into you in one swoop, hitting deep inside you. With your ass high up in the air, his balls smack your engorged bud, sending shockwaves throughout your body and clenching the hold you have on his dick.

“Fuck baby, you feel fucking tight. You’re so close?” Jimin’s voice is strained as well; the lack of mocking in his tone tells you he is close as well.

“Ki-Kiss me, please.” The voice that leaves you is so foreign, so unknown. The fucked out woman speaking in your stance has no spatial or temporal comprehension. You don’t even realize how you are put on your back, now a lucky witness to Jimin’s nimble figure pushing back into you as he leaned over to slot his lips on yours.

The kiss was explicit, it was rough, it would put to any kiss you’ve shared before to shame. Deep in throes of pleasure, his mouth is chasing yours. Your hands are still bound; a light fight against the restrain tells you you don’t have a chance. Instead, you suck his plush lip in, swiping your tongue across his cherry petals that are rushing with blood because of you. Dormant volcanoes across the world could erupt with the blaze of your merging lips, it is scorching hot.

If Jimin is a color, he is a rich wine - deep and passionate. He puts his one hundred percent into whatever he does, be it skilled singing, adept dancing or simply fervent kissing. He gives it his all.

Jimin’s skillful hips move in every way he wishes - and your pussy is thankful for that. Rolling in deep, he tests the stretch of your walls, before pistoning into you with zeroed-in precision, sole focus to get you to come with him. The effort he was putting in could be seen in his abs - they have tightened with exertion, and with a light sheen on sweat, look absolutely delectable.

Letting your hands roam, you bring Jimin’s face into your neck where you can hear every single breath, every hiss, every groan - that you could record and keep in your memory. With one hand tugging his tresses, and the other hand drawing paths on his back with your nails, you hear the sounds you want to. Jimin sharply bites your ear, and the shockwaves of pleasure send you tipping.

There’s layers to the pleasure you are experiencing right now, your orgasm hitting you in ebbs and flows. Right when you think you can finally return back to ground, the high tide pulls you back into the water for another stream of pleasure. It feels like eternity when you finally hit the land, and even then the loose sand makes you falter, threatens to send you back into the ocean.

Jimin’s pace is faltering, and he spills soon after. Hot, heavy breaths tickle under your ear, as both of you feel the sheer intensity of the orgasm. Him on you, your hearts are aligned, and you can feel the beats fighting each other for dominance until they soften down.

Ripples of energy flow out of the both of you, elevating the temperature around the two of you. If you didn’t have your eyes closed you’d say literal rolls of steam are emanating from the way you both are heaving. You slowly regain your senses, twitching hands trying to remember what it is that hands even do.

A shiver runs through your spine when you hear a grunt so close to your ear, only to realize Jimin is in the same position as you are in. Even without looking, you can guess what his expression is. Void of any edge, the softness of his facial features must have made their return, with crinkled eyes and a light frown on his beautiful pouty lips, he probably looks like an innocent caricature of the man that stood behind you moments ago. Letting your palm rest on his head, you beckon him to get up.

If Jimin is a color, he is the pinkness best portrayed by his puffy cheeks at this moment. A childlike glow, a guileless visage. He looks at you with such adoration, like you are the only desire in his world, and everything else can be damned.

You don’t want to break this silence but you cheekily add, “You didn’t even get me naked. Like this a bit too much eh?”

Dark clouds mar the pink and turn it into a deep, sultry carmine - the shift in his color noticeably brings your temperature down by a few degrees.

“Cute. You think I’m done with you.”

He is the whole palette, and you can pick your filter.

Thank you for making it to the end! Let me know what you think! And you can find more of my writing at my masterlist here!

#bangtansorciere #bangtanhq #bangtancentralstation #ficswithluv #bangtaninn #bts smut #jimin smut #park jimin smut #bts fanfic #jimin fanfic #bangtanuniversity

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afriendlyblackhottie · 4 years ago

Text

Love Galore

Summary: It’s been two years since the last time Andy saw you. Even after all that time he’s still the one you come to when don’t have anyone else to turn to.

Pairings: Andy Barber x Black!Reader

Words: 7.8 K

Warnings: 18+ only, smut, swearing, infidelity, Daddy kink, mentions of abusive relationship, mention of death, breeding kink, missionary, rough sex, squirting, creampie, oral (female receiving), degradation, dirty talk

(A/N: It’s here! I’ve finally done it! I’ve finished my first series EVER! LETS FUCKING GOOOOOO!!!!!! This was a fun complicated run considering this shit was supposed to be a one shot.Then it became two. Now I’m here with this long ass thing not believing that I’ve finally finish something. Honestly this is huge for me. Anyway. I’d like to think everyone that’s read this and enjoyed this little adventure and I hope you like this. Please, like, follow, and reblog. This shit got so long it wouldn’t even let me type on my phone anymore.)

Tagging: @titty-teetee @queenoftheworldisdead @olyvoyl @liquorlaughslove @harrysthiccthighss @mariahthelioness29 @donutloverxo @stargazingfangirl18 @mochamaniacbabe @whiskey-cokenfanfic @iam-laiya @zaddychris @emjayewrites @brattycherubwrites @love-more122 @bvssmob @smuttywriter @bigsisbria @night-of-the-living-shred @blackmissfrizzle @ilieherecharmed-fics2readnrec @atyourbestuareluv-writes @mauvecherie @abcdestinyyyy @helahades @little-baby-vixen

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Andy had told himself he was doing the right thing. Had talked himself into it on the drive home that day. When those words came out of your mouth, he didn’t need to hear ‘you’re over.” When to the two of you, ‘I quit,’ meant the same thing.

He remembered sitting in his office. Head tilted back with his mouth open. Thinking about the way you’d walked away from him before turning back around. For a second he thought you’d come back to him. Maybe you had a change of heart in that split second. Except you’d left and all he could do was slam his door and sit. Thinking about all the things he could have done to stop it from getting to this point.

Looking back, all he could think about were all the things that he could have done differently. How he should have held you tighter that night. Thinking about how he should have kept an eye on you instead of going back to sleep. How he should have just ended things with Laurie after that first I love you.

When he woke up this morning, there was a fleeting thought about you. Just like when he’d go to sleep. Always wondering if you were okay or if you missed him. He’d never been able to stop thinking about you. Always wondering if you were okay or if you missed him. Always thinking about the way your eyes had glazed over that last time he saw you. That at least you told him you loved him back.

Andy went on with his day with you stuck in his mind. Had a lunch meeting with colleagues like any normal Wednesday afternoon. Since the restaurant was across the street from this park, he decided to take a walk. He had to get back to work, but he could take some time to smell the roses. Butterflies fluttering around all the bushes of flowers. It was springtime which always made him think of you. It was your favorite time of year. He remembered how he’d send you a bouquet to your desk almost every day just to see you smile. Fuck he missed shit like that.

He was heading back to his car when he saw those familiar eyes peering up at him. All glazed over and filled with shock. His heart felt like it’d been jump started. Those butterflies dancing around your head like you were part of a dream.

“Y/N...” he trailed off, not even thinking as his legs started moving until he was closer and closer to you. He couldn’t stop himself. Needed to make sure you were really there.

“Andy,” you breathed out. “Hi.”

“Hey.” his chest heaving from how he had to catch up to you. His eyes still sincere like there was still love in them. That same smile he seemed to have reserved for you on his face. “Wow. I can’t believe I’m... how are you?”

You nodded. “Good,” you said taking in a deep breath. Except he knew better. He’d seen the way you’d looked at him. “I’m good.”

“That’s good,” he said, letting it go because he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to pry. “Did that letter of recommendation do you any good?”

“Oh yeah I actually got a job with this publisher last year.”

His smile grew. This pride showing in his face for you. “Seriously? Fuck I knew you could do it.”

“Yeah, I love it, so thank you for that.” You said, offering up a tiny smile.

“You didn’t need me.” He shrugged. “You probably would have gotten it all on your own.”

After two years and still all he could think about was reaching out to touch you. That maybe if he hugged you, you’d spill whatever was bothering you. Hell, even if he was reading too much into things, he still wished he could at least hold you a little.

“Yeah, well it certainly helped.”

“How you been? You look good.”

“Thanks,” you said with a chuckle. “You do, too. I’m okay, I guess. How about you?”

Andy shrugged. “As good as I can be,” he replied. “Can’t complain, I guess.”

You started grabbing your stuff. “I’d love to stay and chat, but my lunch break is almost over.”

“You still have my number?” He asked. “Maybe we can get coffee some time?”

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” you answered. “

“Oh, well, it was good seeing you,” he said, now feeling like his heart had instead dropped to his stomach.

“You, too.” You smiled. “Take care, okay?”

He nodded. “Yeah. You, too. Call me if... if you ever need anything.”

“I will,” you replied, finally standing up. “It was nice seeing you.” There was this look in your face. Like you were hesitating for some reason. He wanted so badly to ask what was wrong, but that wasn’t his right anymore. He’d fucked that up two years ago.

“Yeah, you too,” he said.

He hadn’t been able to get you out of his mind since that day. How you looked. The way your eyes looked. How bad he wished he’d hugged you. It’d been a few weeks since then and he started doing what he always did. Burying himself in work because what else did he have.

Andy didn’t just miss the sex or anything, but he did miss the closeness. Of you surrounding him in your warmth. Sometimes he couldn’t believe how much he missed you. It got so bad he didn’t even move into the apartment when him and Laurie finally separated. That whole place only made him think of you. It was like your scent lingered in every room. It was too much.

This was the last thing he needed right now. To think about you. When the separation finally happened and he’d moved to the city to get away from all the old memories of not just you, but his old life he’d thought about finding you so many times. Instead, he busied himself with work. It was better than walking around moping everywhere he went. At least like this he could keep his mind busy.

He remembered how you used to scold him for working too much which always kept you behind because he’d have you sit in his lap as he finished up. Not that you minded that part. You’d shower him in kisses and love between scrolling through your phone.

As he started to get ready to go home, he thought back to the night you’d hooked up. That office party where Laurie had ditched him to go out. The night he decided to say fuck it because if she could have her fun then he deserved to have his, too. Especially after everything they’d been through.

Honestly, he was surprised they’d lasted as long as they did. Not that everything that happened was their fault or that he even hated Laurie for the things that were. Even though life hadn’t gone in the direction either of them expected it to, holding things against her made him feel even worse.

Except for you. The way she’d barged in that night. After having the nerve to get angry at him. Andy knew he’d crossed a lot of lines in your relationship because ‘I love yous’ and the apartment weren’t part of the deal. That didn’t mean she had any right to intervene.

He tried to push it out of his mind. Instead focusing on the radio as he drove home. He was trying to work passed all of that. It wasn’t good to dwell. Especially on that night.

Or how the last time he saw you. How sad you looked. How he couldn’t help himself as he placed one last kiss to your lips. Or how you’d stormed out of his office after he’d fucked you on his desk. How he thought you were coming back to him only for you to turn and leave for good.

God he’d felt like such a piece of shit. Sitting in his office crying like a fucking baby. It didn’t matter how many times he’d promised that it would be okay. The damage had already been done.

Now he was just sitting in his office thinking about you. Which is what he usually did anyway so what made this any different. He wasn’t even sure what time it was at this point. His assistant had left hours ago. He didn’t have anyone sitting in his lap these days.

Andy sighed, rubbing his eyes as started to pack up. He’d at least never crossed the line of sleeping in his office. That would have been a little too far even for him.

He yawned as his phone started going off, looking back on his desk to see the name plaster on the device. It was a little silly maybe, but he’d never changed his number just in case this happened. Just in case he’d end up seeing your name on it again. Now he’d seen you once and there it was.

“Hello?” He asked.

“Andy?” You whimpered out.

“Y/N? You okay?”

He could hear you sniffling over the phone line and his heart thumped. “I’m sorry I just... I don’t know who else to call,” you whimpered. “I’m kinda scared.”

“Where are you? Do you need me to come get you?” He asked hurrying up to grab his shit.

“Can you? I’m in Boston still.”

He sighed a smile on his face at hearing that. “Of course. Just send me the address and I’ll be right there.”

“Okay, but I don’t wanna hang up. I’m like... not okay.”

“What happened?” He asked softly.

You took another deep breath. “My, um,” then you stopped to take another breath as your voice broke, “can I just tell you when you get here?”

“Okay,” he replied not wanting to mess up his chances. It’d been two years and whatever had upset you, you’d trusted him enough still to be the one to go to. “I’ll see you soon?”

“Please, don’t hang up,” you said so softly. Honestly, he felt like his heart might shatter.

“I won’t. How about we talk about something else for now?” He asked as he finally started to make his way out of the building.

“Like, what?” You asked.

“Watched any football lately?” He asked, chuckling softly.

“No,” you sniffled again, but he could hear a slight change in tone. “I don’t like sports.”

“Really? We used to watch it every Sunday,” he replied.

“Yeah, because you liked it.”

He laughed. “Oh, wow. That’s okay. I remember sitting through all those marathons of Say Yes to the Dress, so I guess we’re even,” he teased.

You chuckled this time. “Yeah, but I liked the way you rated everything.”

Andy smiled and shook his head. “Okay so maybe it was a little fun.”

“Besides I liked watching football with you. I liked wearing the cute little Patriots jersey for you,” you said.

He wasn’t sure if you were trying to flirt with him, but it kind of made him hopeful. “Yeah, that was pretty nice, huh?” He finally got to his car throwing his briefcase into the backseat.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I’m not trying to make things weird.”

“It’s not weird at all, Y/N,” he said with a soft smile on his face. “I should be there in about fifteen minutes.”

“Okay,” you said. “Thanks, Andy.”

“Always,” he replied. He pretty much sped the whole way there. Maintaining conversation with you. Sometimes he could hear your voice quiver. His hands were shaking as he saw you through the glass. “Hey, I’m outside,” he said, making you look up at him with tear-stained eyes.

A small smile appeared on your lips. He waved at you through the window, his heart skipping a beat. Because you were right there dressed to the nines. You looked way too glamorous to be sitting in the booth of some little diner.

One of the things he’d regretted the most was not taking you somewhere when you were all dressed up. Sometimes you’d have cute dates at the apartment where you’d get all pretty for him. He loved it so much. Fuck he should have done better.

The thick smell of coffee and syrup hit him as soon as he walked in, but nothing could prepare him for how your perfume smelled as you hugged him. Fuck he couldn’t believe that he was there and he was touching you and you were crying into his chest.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he said softly, rubbing your back. “It’s okay. I’m here now.” He lifted your chin. “You wanna talk about it?”

You nodded with this quiver in your lip. You looked so damn beautiful even like this. It almost felt like a reflex, but he managed to stop himself from kissing you.

You sat back in your seat and he took a seat beside you. “You want anything else?” He asked, only a cup of coffee was in front of you.

You shook your head and sighed again. “I’m okay.”

“So, what happened?”

That’s when he saw it. The diamond on the ring finger of your left hand. He swallowed this pit formed in his abdomen. You scoffed as you noticed his gaze. “Yeah, I’m engaged.” Then your eyes connected, until you closed them. That’s when another tear drop slid down your cheek. “Andy, it’s been so bad.”

“Hey,” he said, reaching across to grab your hand, ignoring the jolt he’d gotten from touching your soft skin again. “Tell me everything.”

With your free hand, you wiped away your tear. “So, I’ve been with him for about a year,” you started. “He was someone that I knew for a long time, though, because he’s always been a part of our friend group and everything.”

Andy listened intently, hand still in yours. At the same time, he couldn’t help himself as he started to go over your features. That he wanted to hug you again. God, he hated seeing you like this.

“So, then he asked me out and I said no because I just didn’t see him in that way,” you continued. “Everyone else in our friend group thought I was weird for not wanting to date him, but I got weird vibes. I dunno. Then somehow it got back to my mom and you know how she is.”

Andy chuckled. “Oh, do I remember.” How could he forget. There were so many times he’d have to hold you after you’d had a simple conversation with her.

You laughed. “Yeah. Well, she loved herself some Ethan and I’d say between her, my friends, and him constantly asking I gave in.” You wrapped your arms around yourself like you were cold.

“You cold?” He asked.

You nodded and he started taking off his suit jacket so he could give it to you. “You don’t have to,” you said as he got up to wrap it around you.

“It’s okay,” he said, with a soft smile. He sat back down and his breath hitched in his throat, seeing you wearing his jacket. “What happened next?”

“So then, I start dating him,” you said. “It was okay, but I still wasn’t that into it, but I felt like I couldn’t end things when everyone was going on and on about how cute we were together. Everyone was so weirdly invested in our relationship and it was like there were certain things I started to see.”

“Like, what?” Andy asked.

You shook your head. “Like he’d tell me not to wear certain things. Or get mad if I stayed out late with the girls. I’d feel bad because he’d get so emotional over it.” You paused to take a sip of your coffee. “I tried to breakup with him a few times, but then it was like everyone would get in my ear about how much of a nice guy he was and that I had no right being picky after messing around with you.”

“I thought your friends didn’t know about me,” he said.

“They didn’t,” you answered. “He found my old phone and went through our messages. Told everyone. I never deleted them because... I dunno. I liked reading them after he’d throw his tantrums.”

Andy sighed. “Shit, Y/N, this guy sounds like such an asshole.”

You chuckled, raising your eyebrows. “Tell me about it. I dunno it was like things just became worse and worse and worse and then he asked me to marry him and at this point I was too scared to even say no.”

“And, tonight?”

“Our engagement party,” you replied. “Ever since then he won’t stop bringing everything up. We got into a fight earlier, but I just couldn’t do it anymore and if I’m being honest the only person, I know that wouldn’t judge me about something like this was you.”

“Well, I’m glad you called,” he said, smiling softly. “If it makes you feel better, I never deleted our messages either.”

“Laurie didn’t care?”

“Laurie and I are divorced actually.”

“Oh,” you said. “I’m sorry.”

Andy shook his head. “Not your fault. We had way more problems. You weren’t even top five.”

“So, I was the sixth?” You laughed.

“I would place you right at number eight,” he joked.

“I think...” then you paused trying to gather your thoughts, “sometimes I wonder if maybe all of this is happening because of karma. Because of what we did together maybe I deserve it.”

He shook his head. “You didn’t do anything.”

“I mean I know we all messed around that one night so I guess that means she was okay with it, right?”

“It’s not... it’s complicated,” he said. “Do you remember that night of the office party.”

“The one we hooked up at for the first time?” You asked. “Or the one where we got caught?”

“The first one,” he replied, nodding his head. “The reason Laurie wasn’t there that night was because we’d gotten into this pretty bad argument.”

“That’s no excuse for what we did,” you said.

He shrugged. “Except it is because the reason we were arguing was because she picked that night of all nights to go on some date.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” he said with a laugh. “She’d come to me about opening up the relationship because ever since everything happened, we hadn’t really been connecting. That’s she read somewhere that parents going through grief of losing a child, do better after taking a break from each other.”

Your gaze seemed to soften at him. It wasn’t often that he even mentioned what happened with his son so you didn’t say anything.

“I was so mad at first then I said you know what fine, but then when she picked that night of all nights... I don’t know.”

“Is that why we...”

He shrugged. “I mean, yes and no. I was mad at her, but I don’t know if I would have been able to stop myself either way. That’s why I stayed away from you for a little bit after. I got freaked because I realized that I liked you.”

“So, you didn’t actually cheat?” You asked.

Andy laughed, shaking his head. “Oh, I definitely cheated. What we did wasn’t a part of the deal. I crossed every boundary when I told you that I loved you.”

“Was it true, though?” You asked.

“Of course, it was. Hell, I don’t think I’ll ever stop.” He sighed, tapping his fingers against the table.

You smile this time it was you turn to grab his hand. “I wish things had been different.”

“Me, too,” he said. “The next morning when I went home, she was waiting for me. Said she didn’t go on her date since she didn’t like how much it upset me. I’d told her that I’d messed around with someone else, but she said it was okay. That night that she caught us, she knew I’d been messing with someone. Just didn’t know it was you.”

“And?” You asked.

“She had no idea about the apartment. We had our own accounts so she never knew. When she found out, she freaked saying she wanted to know what I was risking it all for and that she wanted to see if you were worth all the trouble.” The whole time he explained, he stroked your knuckles with his thumb. “So, she took my key and came over the way she did.”

“Shit,” you said.

He sighed. “Yeah. So, don’t feel bad or like karma is trying to get you because of it. None of it was your fault.”

“That’s the thing, Andy. It doesn’t matter if she knew or not. I didn’t know that and I still,” you stopped as you started to get a little choked up, “I still did what I did. I didn’t know that so what right do I have to act like that changed things. I knew you were married. I should have stopped it.”

Andy stood up, coming to your side of the booth to sit beside you. He wrapped his arms around you. A part of you thought about how you should pull away from him. That you should fall back into this cycle with him, but it felt so nice to be held by him again. “It’s okay. It really wasn’t your fault,” he whispered into the side of your head. “But I hate that you got hurt because we couldn’t be honest with ourselves and just breakup. The divorce was a long time coming. It’s hard to come back from all the shit that happened.”

“I get it,” you said.

“So, don’t beat yourself up or think that you deserve any of this.” He put his head on top of yours.

“It’s too late, anyway,” you said. “He already told everyone about you being married and all the stuff we used to talk about.”

“Shit...”

You sniffled again. “Yeah. Said I was a slut and a pervert and all this other shit.” You started crying again, you couldn’t help it. “He was screaming at me and it’s like he hasn’t stopped. So tonight, I finally argued back.”

“What the hell happened, Y/N?” He asked, finally getting the hint that there was so much more to the story.

He tucked his finger under your chin again, forcing you to look at him. Your still reddened eyes. Your cheeks stained with tears. Yet you still looked gorgeous to him. “Andy...” you took a deep breath, “he, uh,” you sniffled.

Andy’s eyes welled up with tears now because he got the fucking hint. After being an assistant district attorney for so many years he’d seen women like you too many times. “Did he hurt you?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

You sniffled, your lip trembling as you nodded and Andy didn’t know it was possible, but he pulled you in even closer. Kissing the top of your head as you clung to him now. “I didn’t know who else to go to. No one else would have believed me and I was so scared, Andy. I needed you.”

“It’s okay,” he said into your head between kisses. “It’s okay,” he repeated. “I’m here, Honey. I’m not going anywhere.”

The two of you stayed like that for what felt like ages. Him holding you as he kissed the top of your head. You crying into him until you finally calmed down. He wasn’t going to stop either. He couldn’t stop.

“You know what the worst part is?”

“What?” He asked.

“That I still got ready. That I was going to act like everything was normal cuz I didn’t know what else to do.”

He sighed and kissed your temple this time. “That’s okay. You didn’t want to draw attention,” he replied.

“Yeah, pretty much.” You surprised him when you laughed. “I dunno. I just felt like I had to look as natural as possible. Then I left.”

He’d finally stopped placing kissed all over you, but didn’t let go of you. After a few minutes of silence, he decided to break it. Hoping to lighten the mood a little. “I’m glad you called me. Surprised I didn’t get a speeding ticket on the way over.” He laughed.

You chuckled. “Yeah? Well, thanks for coming to my rescue.”

“I’ll always be there when you need me,” he said. “Hey, you hungry? I’m starving.”

“Pancakes sound kind of nice now.”

“Pancakes it is.” He nudged you.

You tilted your head back as you laughed at another story. Your pancakes half eaten and you leaned your head against his shoulder before stealing one of his fries.

“Still a fry thief I see?”

“Forever and always,” you replied with that giggle he loved so much. It honestly sounded like music to his ears. “Besides yours always taste better.”

He laughed. “Oh, whatever.”

“They do! It’s like they add something special to them.”

Andy shook his head. “You’re lucky I don’t mind.”

“Oh yeah? Not like you’d do anything about it anyway.”

His jaw dropped as you giggled again before taking another French fry. “Still a little brat.”

“Only to you.”

That was when he picked up your fork so he could steal some of your pancake.

“Hey!”

“All’s fair in love and war,” he said with a smirk. That’s when your eyes got all glazed over again. Then you sniffled. Then it was like you couldn’t help yourself as you got emotional all over again. Andy of course noticed and lifted your chin up so you couldn’t hide it. “What’s wrong?” He was back to wiping away a tear.

“I’m sorry for leaving,” you said, letting out a cry before clinging to him. “I’m so so sorry, Andy. I wish I’d never...” you stopped talk to try and hold a sob in.

“Hey,” he said softly, putting his lips against your temple ever so gently. “It’s okay. We’re good. Besides it’s not like you’re the one that fucked it all up.”

You let out a scoff and it kind of broke his heart a little. That you were blaming yourself for any of it. When he could have ended things with her for you when he had the chance. “I wish I’d never...” you trailed off. “I wish I’d listened to you. When you said everything would be okay.”

He shook his head. Wishing there were more words he could use to even begin how to tell you none of it was you. That you’d thought you were protecting yourself by walking away. That if anything he was proud of you for telling him to fuck off when he’d been the one to fuck it up. “No. I should have told you the truth from the beginning. Don’t blame yourself.”

“Did you ever think about me?”

Andy couldn’t help it as he chuckled. “Honey, I never stopped.”

“We’re a mess, aren’t we? This time you’re single and I’m the one in the relationshit.”

Andy laughed. “I know, right. Funny how it all comes back full circle.”

“I’ll say,” you said, before stealing yet another fry.

“Where you going after this?” He asked.

You shrugged and groaned. “I don’t even know. I can’t go back home because he’s gonna be there probably.”

“Well, my apartment is free,” he replied. “If you need some place to crash for a little bit. No strings attached. I promise.”

You smiled. “You’re too nice to me, you know that right.”

“I only treat you how I feel you deserve,” he said. “And, I think you deserve the world.”

You had to stop yourself from making a move so instead you got cozy against him again. “Dare me to take my phone off do not disturb.”

“If that’s what you want,” he said.

“Not really,” you said. “But, I’m gonna have to look at some point.”

“How about we get outta here instead,” he said. “We can watch a movie.”

You nodded. “Okay,” you said. “Yeah. That sounds nice.”

The car ride was filled with more laughter and he was happy that he’d managed to cheer you up. Even though in the back of his mind he wanted to find that asshole. Maybe knock him out.

As he went to shower, you sat on the couch. Looking around at everything. This was different than the old place. You’d made that home. This barely felt lived in. When he came out in pajama pants and a white shirt, you almost salivated over him because he looked so beautiful it didn’t make any sense.

“You wanna shower? I have face wash so you can take off your makeup and you can wear one of my shirts if that’s okay. I don’t think I have a scarf for you to tie your hair, though.”

You smiled. “It’s okay. Thanks, Andy.”

As much as he hated what drove you to him, he still wasn’t going to take this moment for granted. Besides he was having so much fun cheering you up. He could fuck your ex up later.

“You wanna know the worst part of it all,” you said from your spot on the other side of the couch. You were freshly showered and bundled up under a blanket. Somehow more beautiful than you were before.

“What was it?” He asked.

“That the sex was awful,” you answered. “I’d try to tell him what I wanted, but he wouldn’t listen. I couldn’t understand why.”

Andy sighed because fuck this guy was a piece of shit, but it obviously made him perk up a little when you told him you weren’t be satisfied.

“When he read those messages, I think it was more of a blow to his ego. He started calling me a pervert. Reading the stuff, we sent to each other out loud. Called me a slut because he saw I called you Daddy.” You chuckled, rolling your eyes. “Then told my mom that I needed help for all my sick fantasies.”

“Jesus,” he breathed.

“I know right.” You shook your head and laughed. “I don’t know. I’m kind of glad he never took your place, though. He couldn’t do what you did.” You took a deep breath before grabbing your phone. “Anyway, ready to see the chaos?” You asked.

“Always.” Though as you took your phone off do not disturb finally, all he could think about what you’d just said. That this asshole had never taken his place. That was good at least.

The messages and voicemails he’d left where so awful Andy almost couldn’t believe he’d somehow kept up with the whole nice guy thing. Or that everyone else had bought his act.

“Shit,” he said. “This guy’s fucking awful.”

You chuckled, your eyes all glazed over again. “Yeah, I know.”

“You can’t go back,” he said. “I can’t let you.”

“I don’t want to, but I don’t know where else to go. I feel like everyone is gonna choose him over me.”

He sighed. “Hey. I will always choose you. I got you.”

“Andy, I...” you stopped to take a breath, “I’m scared.”

“I know, but you don’t have to be. I’m here, okay. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You have to promise.”

He got closer to you so he could hug you tightly. Sighing into your hair. He hated seeing you like this. Whatever damage he’d done, this was miles above that. “I promise, Honey. I’ll even go with you to get your stuff, okay?”

You nodded and moved away from him so you could wipe your eyes. “Thank you.”

“That’s what I’m here for.” He kissed the top of your head. “I’ll even sleep on the couch.”

You chuckled. “I couldn’t make you do that.”

“It’s okay. Really.”

“No. That wouldn’t be fair,” you said. “You’re already doing so much for me.”

“Because I want to. I told you I’d always be there for you and I meant it.” He wiped away the tear that had fallen once again.

You smiled. “You’re too good to me.”

“I told you, you deserve it.”

There was something behind the look in your eyes this time. They’d softened and his probably had done the same. That old feeling was back in the air. Like you were back to old times.

He was surprised when you’d been the first one to make a move. You lightly pressing your lips to his before pulling away. “I’m sorry, I-“ he cut you off mid apology, smashing his lips to yours.

Your hands to his face. Holding either side of his cheeks. He deepened the kiss because fuck it had been two years and he missed you and he couldn’t believe you were there again.You made out for a while until he pulled away, putting his forehead against yours.

“I never stopped loving you,” he whispered, stroking your soft cheek with his thumb.

Your breath hitched in your throat watching the way his blue eyes had gotten so soft as they looked into yours. “I never stopped loving you either.”

“Nothing’s going to keep us apart this time, okay?”

You smiled and nodded before pecking his lips gently. “Take me to bed, Daddy,” you purred.

He didn’t need to be told twice. He nodded before standing up, lifting you into his arms. Making you wrap your legs around his waist. It was like instinct kicked in with how he started to kiss you on the way to the bed.

His hands gripping your ass. You feeling all up on his shoulders, like you were making sure every muscle was still there. Not even pulling from your embrace as he finally laid you down in his bed. Getting on top of you as he kissed your lips.

You moaned into him, running a hand through his hair. Scratching his scalp and his clawing at his shoulder with the other. Needing his closeness once again. “Andy,” you moaned as he started kissing your neck.

“It’s Daddy, Baby. Remember. I’m your daddy.”

You nodded before moving so he had to kiss you again. Except he pulled away.

“Who’s Daddy, Baby?”

“You,” you replied. “You’re my daddy. No one else.”

“That’s my good girl,” he said getting on his knees so he could start unbuttoning the shirt you were wearing. “Don’t worry, Baby. I’m gonna take care of you, okay?”

You let out a moan as he got down to start kissing your thighs. “Daddy!”

“That’s it. Make all the noise you want,” he said as he started tugging your panties down your legs now that the shirt was mostly undone. “I don’t give a fuck if someone hears.”

When he said that you couldn’t help it as you let out a long whiny moan. Especially from the way he was kissing all up on your lower half before going back up to place kisses on your stilled covered breasts that he’d finally started to unbutton.

“Fuck, I missed you,” he said. “Did you miss me, Baby?”

You nodded, looking at him with those needy eyes. “So much.”

“Never gonna leave me again, huh,” he said before taking one of your nipples into his mouth. Swirling his tongue around it. “Gonna mine forever.”

Your breath hitched in your throat as you closed your eyes to enjoy the feeling of his mouth on you. “God, yes.”

“Gonna be my wife one day. Give me a few babies.” One of his hands creeped down to your thigh, teasing you and making you shiver under his touch. “You gonna do that for me?”

You nodded, your lower half already tingly and he hadn’t even touched your pussy yet. Just the way his hands and mouth felt on you was enough. You had been so worked up for two years. Your vibrator and memories could only do so much. Especially since your soon to be ex had thrown out your toy since apparently you didn’t need one with him around.

“Use your words,” he said.

“Yes, Daddy,” you said.

“You still my slut?” He asked as his fingers finally started creeping up and down your slit. His touch feather-lite.

That’s when you shuddered. Nodding your head before letting out this breathy moan. “Yes,” you gasped. “I’m... I’m-“ you cut yourself off as you did it again.

“Damn. Already?” He smirked, looking up at you. Watching you bite your lip and flutter your eyelashes. Then you did it again and he’d barely even did anything. He was pretty sure that the minute he touched your clit with his tongue or fingers you’d explode. As bad as he wanted to, he was enjoying seeing you squirm over nothing. So needy and desperate for him.

“I haven’t cum in so long,” you said, crying out your words.

“Really? He wasn’t taking care of you at all?” He asked with a frown on his face. You shook your head breathing all heavy as your eyes started to roll back a little your lids all heavy. “That’s okay, Y/N,” he hissed as he parted your slit. “I’ll take really good care of you.” With that he finally decided to lick you up and down like he was tasting the sweetest honey.

Just like that your hips stuttered. A small amount of squirt coming from you.

Andy chuckled because damn he’d barely even done anything and you were already reacting like this. He couldn’t believe you were so pent up. He wondered how you had waited as long as you did tonight. It was like you were dying for this.

Your back was arched off the bed, putting your hands in his hair as he started to really dive in. Lapping at your clit. Your chest moving like you were still crying with no tears coming out.

“Oh god yes I’m still your slut!” You finally whined.

Once again, he chuckled into your clit before rolling over and wrapping his arms around your waist tightly to bring you with him. Perching you on his face. Your hands came down to your breasts, tweaking your nipples. You couldn’t help yourself as you started grinding your hips against his mouth.

He was eating your cunt like it’d be his last meal ever. Like it was the most refreshing glass of water he’d tasted. From there you put your hands in his hair as he held you down. His strong hands gripping your thighs to hold you still. He was trying to bring you to his mercy. Teach you that there really no one else that could do you like this.

As you came, you didn’t even make a noise. Your words stuck in your throat. Lower stomach spasming. Even your head felt like it was malfunctioning. And he didn’t stop what he was doing once.

He tried to keep going, but you scurried off his face. Falling to your side as you took a deep breath. He got closer to you putting his face right next to yours. Watching the way your eyes had blurred out. Like every thought had left your mind.

Andy smiled, quirking a brow. Eyes trained on yours. Finally, he licked his lips. “See, no one else can do you like this,” he said, before sliding his hand between the dampness of your thighs. Making you jump as he rubbed his finger against your opening again. Not even caring to think about how sensitive you must have been as he pushed two fingers inside.

His other hand snaked under you so he could pull you closer. Middle digits stuffing you as they massage your inner walls in a come-hither motion. Directly against your spot.

To be honest he felt pretty triumphant when he got you to this point. Obviously, the distance and lack of even self-inflicted orgasms were making you overly sensitive, but fuck. Neither of you could remember a time he’d been able to get you like this.

Your body felt like it was splitting in half. Then as he kissed you again, smashing his mouth against yours. Making you taste yourself. Practically tongue fucking you.

Even as you moaned, he wouldn’t let you pull away. He was proving a point that he was all you needed. It was true.

Finally, he let you pull away as you orgasmed again. You put your face into his shoulder and let out a scream. Then bit his skin as tears sprung to your eyes. “Daddy!” You’d whimpered.

“That’s my good slut,” he said. “You ready for Daddy’s dick?”

You weren’t sure if he actually wanted you to respond because there still were no thoughts in your brain. You’re pretty sure you’d let him do anything to you right now.

“You good, Baby?” He asked first, rubbing your cheek his thumb.

You wanted to say yes. To even squeak it out, but you were so far gone you were tongue tied. He was pretty much cooing over you as he finally stopped so he could hold you close to him. Waiting for you to come down a little.

He wished he’d gotten naked before this. Craving the feel of your bare skin against his. Wanting to feel those rock-hard nipples against him.

He sat up so he could remove his shirt first then his pajama bottoms and underwear. His hardened dick popping into your move making you pretty much salivate. As he laid back down, you could stop yourself as you reached out to grab it. He moaned under your touch because fuck it had been a long time for him, too. At least he got to use his hand for relief though. He wasn’t as pent up as you.

You kept glancing down at his dick. Standing tall and thick with the tip leaking. Fuck it looked so yummy. He wrapped his arms around you before palming your ass. Letting out a sigh of relief as he finally got to feel you.

You wrapped your legs around his waist. Trying at least feel him against you. Andy pushed you onto your back. Hovering over you before getting on his knees. You were still as sensitive as ever as he started to rub himself up and down your opening.

You tried to shift your hips so he’d get the hint. Maybe finally plunge into you. Fuck you just like you needed. That you’d been craving since you’d broken up, but especially after the way this last year had been going.

“I wanna suck your dick,” you begged, suddenly remembering how you missed tasting him. And the way his dick looked right now with the way he was holding it like he was threatening your pussy. It was too much and yet fuck you wanted him to fuck your throat.

“You will. We got all night,” he said, now holding onto your thighs as he kept you spread wide open. Moving his hips so he could dip into you then take it away. Fuck your pussy was such a mess right now. He couldn’t resist. “For now. I need this pussy.”

With that he pushed into you a little deeper this time, but still not giving you his all. Just enjoying the feel of your tight wetness around his fat dick as entered you inch by inch.

You cried out because fuck. After two years of being without him and a year of someone who didn’t give a fuck if she liked sex or not, he was just too much. “Fuck, that’s it, Baby. Daddy’s gonna take such good care of you and your pussy.”

“Please,” you gasped.

“Don’t worry, Baby. Daddy isn’t gonna be like your shithead boyfriend. Gonna make you cum until you can’t take it anymore.”

With that he finished giving you his all. His hard dick stuffing you to the brim. Dick so thick it was forcing you to accommodate him.

He knew by the way your pussy squeezing him, that you hadn’t been touched properly even if you hadn’t said anything. Your pussy just like velvet. He almost felt bad for what he was about to do to it.

For now, he moved his hips shallowly, at least letting you get used to him. He looked down. Watching the way your pussy clung to his cock every time he inched out of you. “Look at this pretty pussy,” he said, rubbing your clit and making your back arch off the bed again.

“Ah!” You couldn’t help it as you screamed. His poor baby. Too sensitive. This was going to be so much fun.

He chuckled as he looked down at you. How did you already look so blissed out. He put your legs on either shoulder before leaning down to kiss you lightly.

“Daddy,” you whimpered. “Please.”

“Tell me what you want,” he said moving his hips at a slow pace. Savoring how good you felt around him.

“Fuck me hard,” you begged. “Just like you used to.”

Andy didn’t need to be told twice. He’d been waiting for this moment for too long to not give in. So, with that he inched out wanting to tease your hole one more time before slamming it in.

He started kissing you again. Needing to taste you on his tongue again. You gasped into his mouth because now as he was fucking you just as hard as he knew you needed, you couldn’t handle it. All the stimulation was too much but he was too far gone to stop.

“Daddy!” You cried into his mouth. You were clenching around him so damn tight, but that didn’t matter as he started fucking you so damn good.

“That’s it,” he cooed because even though he could tell it was too much you were taking it so good. Andy grabbed your hand to put it above your head. “That’s a good fucking slut.”

“Yes,” you whined. “Fuck yes.”

“Never gonna let another man touch you again, huh. I better not see that shit.” He grabbed your face so you were forced to look up at him. Making his point with the way he was fucking you. This was his pussy. No one else’s.

“No,” you managed to get out. “Never.”

“Only Daddy can fuck you.”

“Yes, Daddy,” you whimpered. “Fuck!” That now familiar feeling again. Of you getting closer and closer to the edge. He did tell you that he was going to keep making you cum. Needed to make up for lost time. “I’m fucking cumming!”

“That’s my good bitch. So good. Cum for your Daddy.” He demanded as your eyes started to roll to the back of your head as you came again. Clenching so hard you forced him out. More of your squirt shooting out of you, to hit his pelvis.

He reached down to rub your clit so he could keep it going. You tried to push his hand away because it just got to be too much. He didn’t give a fuck as he grabbed your wrists before shoving into you again. Making you scream again. His poor neighbors were probably so irritated with you.

He held onto your wrists as he started pounding into you. No mercy just like you knew he would. He didn’t give a fuck this time. Just making you cum over and over again because he could. Making up for all those orgasms he hadn’t given you.

“Andy!” You couldn’t help it. You had to say his name. He’d worked you up so much you had to.

He pushed your arms above your head. Leaning down to kiss you once again, but this time was different because his own orgasm had started creeping up on him.

“Want me to cum in you?” He asked, putting his forehead against yours. “Fill this little pussy up with my cum just like I used to. You on birth control?”

You nodded, no longer able to even form words.

“You better go off that shit. I’m planning to keep you pregnant.” His movement faltered just thinking about it. Warmth spreading inside of him as he finally started to cum deep inside of you. Making sure he was nice and deep, right against your cervix.

Then pulled out only to push it back in so it would be forced in. Your birth control wasn’t going to stop him from at least trying to breed you. Making sure you were completely filled up with his seed before finally coming to lay beside you.

In the short amount of time, it took for him to lay down and pull you into his arms, you’d already fallen asleep. He’d worn you out after all of the nasty things he’d done to you. Especially with all the bullshit you’d had to deal with earlier in the day. All he could do was kiss your forehead before letting himself lull to sleep too.

Because after two years of being alone, that hopeless feeling had disappeared in one night. Just with you there. As he looked down at your sleeping face, he couldn’t help but think that you’d been worth the wait. This time he’d make sure that he did things the right way. That as long as the two of you had each other, nothing else mattered.

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