#this is really the only activity they did out of the studio or what?

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Crawling Back to You (Dieter’s Version)

3.7K / Dieter Bravo x fem!reader

Summary: A moment of weakness could lead to lifetime of regret unless Dieter can set things right with you.

Warnings: Angst, pining. Mention of drug use. Reader has a purposefully vague production/behind the scenes job because I don't know anything about movie production. Eventual HEA. One Friends reference - see if you can find it 😉

A/N: This was written for @happypedrohours’ Bouquets of Pedro Challenge. My Valentine’s prompt for Dieter was PDA. I’ve never written for Dieter before! I know he’s a chaos gremlin (affectionate), but I really like fics I read of him where he just wants to be loved? So, that's the Dieter that I wrote - I hope it's okay 🥹 (Sorry if he’s too OOC 😭) Musical inspiration is Hozier's cover of Artic Monkey's "Do I Wanna Know."

Dividers by @saradika-graphics / Many thanks to @morallyinept for your character and dialogue database to help me try and get into a Bravo state of mind 😘

He considers doing something big and splashy, of course.  And public - very, very public.  Afterall, not being P with his DAs had been what tore the two of you apart. 

Well, part of it, anyways.

Double-paged feature in Variety.  Highway billboards with matching ads on the side of buses.  Live poetry reading on the big screens in Time Square.

But all of that would be very old Dieter Bravo of him and he was no longer that man - in large part because of you, for you.

Dieter had met you many, many moons ago.  Always a friendly face on whatever set or industry event it was where you might cross paths, the two of you had gone from familiar acquaintances, to friends, to someone the other actively sought out for good company or shelter when the bright lights got too hot, the clamouring crowds too loud.

When you first met, Dieter thought you must be an actress - you were too beautiful, too captivating not to be onscreen.  But while you did have a few extra credits to your name, he soon learned that your ambition lay behind the camera.  He remembers the first time he heard your melodic voice ring out across set - like a drunken sailor to a siren’s call, he followed it without question in a semi lucid state (Hey! What’s a little marijuana between a movie star and the teamsters?).  But upon the lifting of his fog, Dieter found not his destruction, but salvation: a sympathetic ally on set, someone with whom he could be a team – a calm in the chaotic storm that was most movie productions,

You worked hard at learning and mastering your trade, and your keen eye and intuitive sense for movie making sang your merits louder than that hypnotic voice of yours that first drew Dieter (and others) to you; that you were easy to get along with and impossible to say no to was no small feat in this business – especially for a woman.  Dieter watched as you dogged forward, paying your dues and solidifying your reputation and resume – whenever he hears your name being bantered about behind the doors of Hollywood’s most coveted meetings, he feels only excessive pride.  He would tell you himself if you were speaking to him. 

Dieter still remembers the night when the two of you crossed that unspoken line for the first time; even now he’s not sure what he would have done if Cupid hadn’t been on his side.  There had been some studio gala, nothing special – or so he thought.  Slipping away from the endless shmoozing and sycophantic hoards that tend to overrun these gatherings, Dieter escaped through the catering entrance in search of some obliging venue service staff (Hollywood hot tip: the wait staff always have the best drugs!).  Instead, he had found you - sitting on a table pushed to the side of the corridor, fancy ballgown fanned out, eating popsicles, legs swinging without a care in the world.

“Dieter!” your cheer was infectious, your smile mischievous and joyful, “I didn’t care for any of those tiny finger desserts they had going out on the trays so I asked the wait staff what they kept in the back for dessert and they gave me a whole box!”  His search for extracurriculars forgotten, Dieter happily joined you, choosing instead to get drunk on your pretty face, happy chatter, and the completely innocent yet salacious way your mouth worked that frozen treat.

About three popsicles in (each) the icy desserts began melting – you managed to save yourself and finish yours just in time, but Dieter’s blue-raspberry concoction was rapidly disintegrating and about to make a guaranteed mess of his dress pants when your hands darted out, catching the slush midair.

Dieter cackled, marveling at your wide-eyed expression and hands, now wet, sticky and blue, “What did you do that for?”

“I don’t know," you crowed, eyes crinkling, still holding your cupped hands out in front of you, "I just didn’t want them to make some kind of 'blue balls' joke about you and your stained crotch in the tabloids tomorrow!”

He clasped his clean hand in yours, adhering himself to you in more ways than one - the two of you giggling and giddy as you re-entered the ballroom.  After finding a free table, some clean napkins and a pitcher of water, you sat as Dieter lovingly washed and cleaned your hands so that they wouldn’t be stained with Blue Dye #1.  He was on his knees, drying and holding your small delicate hands in his much rougher, clumsier ones, when he happened to look up to see you gazing adoringly down at him, eyes grateful and looking at him like he was hanging the moon for you.

Dieter lifted up and unable to help himself, connected his lips to yours – hoping against hope that he wasn’t ruining one of the few precious, genuine connections in his life.  His relief was soon overtaken by desire when you kissed him back – the two of you somehow managing to make your way back to the service hallways, lips crashing together over and over like unstoppable waves of an inevitable ocean.  The kisses were sensual and messy, pure and happy – it made Dieter feel like a teenager again. 

“Is this weird?” he whispered at one point - vulnerable, no bravado.

“Yeah, it’s weird,” you breathed, though your voice was soft, your touch reassuring, “but don’t stop.”  So, he didn’t.  He kissed your lips swollen, pressing you up against the wall and succumbing to the intoxication of your pretty noises and tender affection. 

Nothing else happened that night, and in fact, you had run away!  After getting a text that your friend was currently giving birth, you rushed off to the hospital like Cinderella, ballgown skirts gathered in your careful hands while darting away in the night.  Dieter, dazed and higher than he’s even felt, caught the kiss you blew him, and while pressing it to his slackened, blissed out face, vowed to become your Prince Charming.

He found you on set the following Monday and for the first time in a long time, Dieter Bravo, famously chill Cool Dude™ had felt shy, nervous.  He needn’t have been – you responded to his earnestness with sweet generosity, only ever honest and non-pretentious; it was clear that for the both of you, there was no going back to just friends. 

The rest as they say, was history. 

Except being with you felt completely new to Dieter – for the first time in a long time, maybe ever, he looked forward to waking up to the start of each day, genuinely excited for its possibilities, and even more to coming home every night, grateful for the newfound comfort of life’s simple pleasures.

Grateful, yes.  If there was one thing Dieter wishes he could tell you it’s how grateful he is for you.  While you were blazing your own path to success, you had also helped him redefine his - believing in and supporting the seemingly unflappable Dieter Bravo when he admitted to wanting more.  Hollywood’s unbothered bro, Tinseltown’s perpetually aflame trainwreck darling was capable of and itching for growth, who knew?  You did.

You read scripts with him and talked through his needs and ambitions; finally having a sounding board with no self-serving stake in the financial success of his career choices, Dieter began choosing increasingly more varied and interesting projects with your encouragement and support.  He’s happier now, more fulfilled, challenged, engaged.

And he got sober (Well, he still drinks, but that doesn’t really count, right?  It’s Hollywood).  Detox had been a fucking nightmare but Dieter likes the voices in his head now.  They’re gentler with him, more forgiving, thoughtful.  They sound like you.

Dieter loved you so much, he wanted to climb to the top of the Hollywood sign and shout it all the way across the Pacific; he thought a love such as yours was limitless.

His publicists discouraged it.  The world loved the Dieter they knew: eccentric, sex-crazed, tabloid staple, a spectacle.  They weren’t interested in another middle-aged actor trying too hard to be taken seriously, who had seemingly left his wild days behind for a boring, stable relationship with a non-celebrity.  The public wanted ✨salaciousness✨glitz✨scandal✨.

You had gone along with keeping your relationship hidden, valuing your privacy and preferring to keep the sacredness of your love for one another only.  “I love you, Dieter,” you vowed, “I don’t need everyone to know it, but I don’t ever want to feel like your dirty little secret, okay?”

He promised you without really understanding what that meant.

Your relationship blossomed behind closed doors.  Both of you walked red carpets alone, careful not to get papped together, and on sets, remained cordial and professional until you got behind Dieter’s closed trailer doors where his affection for you knew no bounds, even when contained.  You would tell each other that your love wasn’t a secret, it was private, protected and kept safe from the prying and critical eyes of the public.

When his PR team arranged a fake relationship with the young and upcoming nepo baby starlet with whom he acted opposite in his latest movie as a means to promote the film, Dieter had reservations.  But he hadn’t said no. 

And after several long and serious conversations with his management about his fading relevancy and the exposure that the arrangement would net him, the starlet, the film, Dieter eventually relented and agreed to go along with it.  It seems that fame was the one drug that he hadn’t quite kicked. 

Dieter will never forget the look on your face when he brought up the PR campaign – the way your eyes crinkled in disappointment and the curve of your pretty lips pulling down your entire face haunts him every night. 

“What happens to your real girlfriend when you’re out with your fake girlfriend, Dieter?”

He couldn’t even bring himself to ask you to wait, or stay by his side, but hidden.  It was beneath you, insulting.  And to ask was to break his promise.

Turns out he didn’t even need to ask for you to feel the full weight of his betrayal.

The last words he ever spoke to you had been uttered pathetically to the front door you shut in his face, “Baby, maybe I can fix it.  Let me try.”  Their only registered response was the sound of your sobs getting softer and softer as you walked away, shutting the doors in the house he could no longer call home.

He hadn’t been able to fix it.  By design, Hollywood’s PR machine is a force, the joint efforts of Dieter and the starlet’s teams a runaway train.  Their “relationship” had been Page Six news before Dieter even had the chance to call his publicist to say that he couldn’t go through with it.  The public ate it all up just as predicted:

Dieter Bravo, Hollywood Chaos Prince back at it again, charming and capturing the heart of Tinseltown’s newest princess.

His mind swims of you.  During every press tour interview he does with his pretend girlfriend, Dieter cringes at the fake touches and gestures of affection choreographed for the cameras; all the scripted flirting and empty terms of endearment taste like acid on his tongue (and not the good kind either).  But none of this compares to the shame he feels at having hurt you, the owner of his heart, and that he likely continues to do so with every orchestrated date night photo-op for TMZ, every “happy couple” glambot he poses for on the red carpet.

Dieter finally sees you again six months into his fake relationship.

At the MTV Movie Awards, he’s waiting for the starlet to finish her solo shots, rubbing his temple at the too bright lights, the garish and loud décor, the music that doesn’t even sound like music, when he sees you stroll in on the arm of a man he doesn’t recognize.  But Dieter couldn’t care less who the man is - it’s you he can’t look away from; you’re laughing, radiant, soft.  Unchanged.  Ethereal. 

Dieter thinks he might vomit.  He thinks he might need to do a line.  He can’t let you see him.

Without excusing himself, Dieter leaves the red carpet and locks himself in a bathroom, trying to push down his bubbling panic attack.  He knows his “girlfriend” is probably beside herself, and that his unexplained absence is likely giving rise to new rumours and speculation that he’s on some kind of drug-fuelled spiral, but he can’t bring himself to come out.

Someone slips a KitKat under the door of the bathroom. 

Dieter knows it’s you; only you would be so subtle, so gentle, so reassuring with one simple gesture.  Only you know him and what brings him the most comfort.  He picks up the chocolate bar and stares at it for a while before biting into it, thinking about how he got himself into this mess.

A moment weakness.  A lifetime of regret.

Not if Dieter could help it.

He “breaks up” with the starlet the following week; it would have been handled even sooner if he didn’t have to fight and threaten to fire his entire team, eventually dragging in Legal to help him break the marketing contract he had unknowingly signed in blood.

Immediately Dieter starts planning how he will make things up to you, beg for another chance – apologize; drafting and discarding every over-the-top gesture that pops into his buzzing mind, each more theatrical and outlandish than the last.

He finally settles on a letter – one that Dieter can’t stop writing after he starts and ends up being eighteen pages (front and back).  It begins with an apology – for having hurt you so callously, for breaking his promise to you, and for, even if only a second, ever making you feel like you weren’t important or enough.  Especially when it was his own bruised ego that had needed the stroking – this entire disaster a result of his own weakness, born from a dark place inside where he had been made small by an industry that thrived on the insecurities of its so-called stars, and Dieter’s fear of feeling even smaller.  You made him feel so good while the two of you had been together, he naively thought that your light had eradicated all such voids and pits within him – but it was unfair to heap the responsibility of his growth and self improvement onto you.  And though he knows that he still has work to do, he credits your influence and compassion for the progress he’s made so far.  Around page six of the letter Dieter’s Sorrys transition into Thank Yous. 

Dieter thanks you for every way you’ve made him a better man, made him want to be a better man.  He thanks you for all the times your unparalleled support, kindness, and generosity have gotten him through the day on set, or through his self doubts at night.  Words of gratitude overflow from his pen, pouring out nearly faster than he can write – you, you, you.  He’s thankful for you.

And he misses you.  And not just all the ways you meshed your gentle life with the squishy bits of his, but just you.  Your sweet laugh.  The crinkle of your nose and the watering of your eyes at his farts sarcastic jokes.  And your mouth.  Great Paul Newman, he’s always been obsessed with your mouth – and not just what he knows it can do and how it tastes, but everything that comes out of it.  Dieter could listen to you talk about anything for hours – he might not know a single thing about what you’re talking about, but he understands eloquence, passion, and the artistry of words when he hears it.  Having spent most of his adult life around industry blowhards, Dieter knows that intelligence without pretension is a rarity - fresh air that he longs to breathe in again. 

On page twelve, Dieter tells you he loves you - loves you for everything you are and what you stand for.  He loves how you’ve remained gentle, even though the business of show makes it its mission to sharpen everyone and everything it swallows.  He loves that your default is always thoughtfulness and compassion, that you embody a quiet type of beauty that doesn’t need to be paraded about or loudly lauded in order to shine.  How do you make even the mundane so fascinating?  It must be that confident grace of yours.  Dieter writes an entire two pages on how he just wants to watch you wash dishes again – he tries to describe the meditative calm that comes just from seeing the soapy water bow to your whim, as if it knows the power and majesty of its bender; understanding as he does now the magnanimity it takes to ensure that no small movement is wasted, to make every action purposeful.  He’s enraptured by you.  Admires you. Worships you.  So, so in love with you.

He reads the letter over a hundred times before tying the folded pages together with a bright red bow.  Using his Bravo charm, Dieter sneaks onto the set of your latest movie and leaves it in your trailer on top of a jewelry box that holds an ostentatiously luxurious diamond necklace he bought you before everything had gone to hell.  He had kept it all this time, unable to bring himself to return it, never even considering giving it to anyone but you.

Three weeks pass and Dieter hears nothing back.

He had tried to prepare himself for this possibility – that perhaps you might never forgive him, want nothing more to do with him, but still, it’s with a heavier than expected heart that he gets ready for his movie premiere, the very same film he’d promoted with his fake relationship.  Dieter didn’t expect any drama at the event – he and the starlet spoke last week and agreed that arriving separately but acting like friends was the best way to quell the outrageous reasons for the “breakup” speculated in the gossip rags.  In truth, even though they had grown to become actual friends during the meshugana of the last few months, Dieter can’t help but associate this entire project with his own regret and shame - he can’t wait for this evening to be over.

He goes through the motions of the red carpet.  Greeting his co-stars with boisterous cheers and hard gripping handshakes.  Hitting his marks and smiling almost manically for the cameras.  Waving to the fans and signing every piece of paper shoved towards him (this part he really did not mind; you always said that his fans were the best and they are).  Doing his time in the interview pit.  When he’s near the end of the gauntlet, with only the Entertainment Tonight interview to get through before he can (blessedly) retreat to his seat in the theatre, a vivid glimmer of brilliance catches Dieter’s eye.  Unlike the near blinding flash of a photographer’s camera, this sparkle beckons him, brightly winking – he almost puts up a hand to shield his eyes before he realizes what it is.

It's you.

You’re at his premiere.  Gorgeous, breathtaking, elegant – you’re walking down the arrivals promenade… and you’re wearing the diamond necklace Dieter left with your letter.  Inadvertently tuning out the ET interviewer, he stares, awestruck, mouth agape – hopeful.  The interviewer can’t help but follow Dieter’s gaze and asks him who you are. 

“An angel,” he answers honestly.

At that same moment, you finally spot him and your face breaks into a big smile, the luminosity of which nearly drops Dieter to his knees.  Instead, he breaks out into a sprint, running towards you. 

When you see what he’s doing, you pick up your skirts and start moving towards him as well.  Dieter dodges and weaves between the bodies on the red carpet, trying not to slam into any of the people that stand between him and his everything, only vaguely aware of the Entertainment Tonight interviewer and her cameraman hot on his heels.

Suddenly, the crowd seems to part and there’s a clearing right where the two of you finally meet, stopping only inches from one another.  Dieter’s panting (fuck, he’s out of shape!) but grinning like a fool when you drop the fabric of your dress to bring your hands come up to cup his face, thumbs running lovingly over his unkempt scruff – a familiar gesture that feels better than any high he’s ever experienced.  Your face is flushed bright and content, home.

“You got my letter.”

“I did.”

“You’re wearing the necklace.”

“I am.”  Your eyes twinkle, complimenting the serenity and invitation of your countenance - both saying everything without even a word.  It gives Dieter the boost of confidence he needs.

“May I kiss you?”

“Even though we’re in public?” You’re being cheeky on purpose.

But for once Dieter won’t play - there is nothing except sincerity in his response, “From now on, only ever in public.  No more hiding.”

An orchestral movie score heard only by the two of you swells as you both move to close the remaining distance between your bodies, crushing your mouths together.  The kiss is passionate, deep and heated – leaving no doubt of your feelings for one another; not even the gawking onlookers can deny what you mean to each other.  Camera bulbs pop and bright lights flash all around as your lips settle and mold in a tender slow dance, loathed to be parted ever again.  Your hands card through Dieter’s soft curls, delicate fingers cradling his head soothingly, warm; his hands spread wide to cover your back, covetous and protective.

“No more hiding,” you whisper, face lit with joy at the adoration and promise reflected in Dieter’s mirrored expression.

He nods and tightens his arm around your waist, love and resolution coursing through his veins.  Sharing one last private look, the two of you turn in unison, a team, towards the awestruck Entertainment Tonight interviewer whose microphone is practically shaking with excitement.  Dieter beams his megawatt Bravo smile at her, “Is this what the kids call a hard launch?”

🎶Artic Monkey's "Do I Wanna Know" lyrics (Hozier's version):

Crawlin' back to you Ever thought of callin' when You've had a few? 'Cause I always do Maybe I'm too Busy bein' yours To fall for somebody new Now, I've thought it through Crawlin' back to you 🎶

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

Present day Kirk with a reader 20 years younger. Maybe James and or Lars are unhappy at first and assume she's with him for his fame and money.

This could go one of two ways... either they straight up lie to her and tell her Kirk is bankrupt to test her or try to chase her off but instead she comes up with a plan to help Kirk... Offering to move him in with her, making space for his guitars and other stuff among her own, etc... only to find out from Kirk that she'd been lied to, and understands the reasoning/concern but is also pissed bc they didn't even give her a real chance before judging her.

Or if you want to go fluffier, maybe James/Lars secretly catch reader and Kirk in a private moment and see/hear things that let them figure out that she really does love him.

A/n: I was thinking about this solely during St. Anger like actively in the recording studio and stuff so that's why there's no bassist.

Warnings: angst, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

James let out a heavy sigh through his nose, holding his head in his hand as he sat on the couch in their recording studio. Lars sat on the opposite side to him, watching the scene unfold as well.

Kirk was saying his thanks to your for bringing him his lunch straight to the studio after he forgot it in the kitchen at home.

He held your face in his hands, repeatedly pecking your forehead and cheeks while you giggled out goodbye after goodbye, saying you had somewhere to be and then not making a move to leave.

"She can't..." James trailed.

"She doesn't." Lars agreed, shaking his head.

"We've gotta say something, don't we?" James asked, looking to Lars over over shoulder.

"Nah, that's not enough." Lars replied. "She doesn't want him for anything but his money, we've gotta get her to fuck off."

"Agreed." James held his hand out for Lars to shake. He just stared at James with a look. "Sorry for being the light in your sad, grey life." James said, withdrawing his hand.

Lars scoffed. "My life's not grey."

James snorted. "Yeah, tell that to your hair." Lars smacked the side of his head.

Kirk finally let you go, he still had to record his parts for the song. You left, waving a final goodbye to Kirk and the other two before slipping out the door.

Lars helped Kirk set up in the booth while James headed out of the room to 'go to the bathroom'.

You were walking through the halls, doing your best to not get lost again when you felt a hand on your shoulder, spinning around to see James.

This wasn't the first time you'd met James, or Lars for that matter, you knew they didn't exactly take to you, especially not as a candidate for their friend. They weren't outwardly mean to you, you caught a few off glares here and there but they were cordial.

You smiled politely up at him. "Hi James." You started, waiting to see if he'd say something. When he didn't you just tilted your head to the side and spoke again. "Did you need something?"

James pulled his hand back and looked you over, taking in your outfit. It was winter so you had more layers, including a fur coat Kirk bought you because he knew you'd love it.

"Kirk is..." He trailed, eyes still wandering over you. You crossed your arms over your chest, shifting your weight and hardening your gaze as you watched him stare at you. James was quick to look back to your face when he realized what it must've looked like. "He's bankrupt." He blurted.

He actually didn't have a plan when he went to find you, he was going to try to convince you to leave him, that it was a weird age difference. Saying Kirk was bankrupt was the first thing that came to mind.

Your eyes widened slightly and your demeanor relaxed, arms dropping to your sides. "Kirk's what?" You asked. "He-he's bankrupt? How? How can he be bankrupt, I've been to his house?" You asked, panic setting in.

James nodded slowly. "Yeah, he's bankrupt, no money to his name." He assured, sticking his hands in his pockets. "He didn't want to tell you because he knew you'd leave him." Your brows furrowed at that but James continued. "Lars and I couldn't sit here and watch him lead you on, thinking you'd get that dream life you wanted."

You couldn't believe it. Kirk had been lying to you? For months, all of it was a lie? He'd refused to let you pay even half the bill, adding to his insurmountable debt?

Anything else James had to say was blurred into the fog setting in around you. You drove back to your apartment, doing your best to stay focused but it was hard with this new information.

Getting home was no better. You dropped your bag where you always did and sat on the couch, staring blankly at the TV across from you.

You held a pillow in your lap where Kirk always rest his head for you to play with his long, curly locks. You had to do something, work out something to help him.

He'd live with you, you'd support him with your job, it would work. He'd sell his house and everything else he wouldn't need, though you had to factor in that he wouldn't be selling his surfing gear or guitars, you wouldn't be able to pry that WAH pedal from his cold, dead hands. He'd make sacrifices and you would too, but it would be fine.

Kirk got home later that day and you were extra sweet to him, you didn’t mention what James had told you, he would tell you when he was ready.

Kirk didn’t notice at first, why would he care you’re being sweet? He just sat back and enjoyed it, giving you extra thanks and kisses. However, he got curious when you said you’d drive him to work. You woke up and made him breakfast which wasn’t too weird, but you never offered to drive him because why would you?

You needed gas and didn’t let him pay, even though he always did. He asked you about it but you said nothing and just kept driving to the studio.

You were walking through the halls when you decided to bring up the living arrangements. “Kirk,” you started, “I think we should move in together.”

He brightened up almost instantly. “Really? You’re sure about that?” He asked, hands finding your hips and turning to face you. “I think that’s great! I-I can get movers to come and get your things, we’ll start decorating, it’ll be great!” He seemed so happy and you didn’t want to ruin it but you knew you had to.

“Kirk, we can’t keep your house.” You said, chuckling softly, your own hands landing on his shoulders and giving them a gentle squeeze. His brows furrowed in confusion but you continued. “I mean, don’t you think it would be better to move into my place?”

Kirk stared at you a moment. “No?” He said simply, rubbing circles into your hips with his thumbs. “We wouldn’t be able to fit all my things into your apartment.”

“So we’ll sell some things.”

“Or, and hear me out for a second, we move your things into my house.” He repeated, not seeing the issue.

Your eyes flickered over his face a moment, thinking of what to say before you let out a heavy sigh. “Kirk, I know what your financial situation is.” You said, hanging your head.

Kirk stared at you like you had two heads. You thought he’d be more fascinated with the sight but it didn’t matter.

“My financial situation?” He asked. “Babe, what are you talking about?” He brought his hand up to your face brushing your hair out of your eyes.

“James told me.”

“James told you what?”

“That you were bankrupt!” You kept your voice down and made sure no one else was around to hear. James peaked his head out of the studio a moment later.

“What do you need me for?” He asked, only having heard his name.

Kirk turned around to look at his bandmate. “You told her I was bankrupt?” He asked. James stared at the both of you blankly a moment before stepping out.

“Look, Kirk, Lars and I thought this was insane.” He said simply, gesturing between the two of you. “Seriously, what the fuck? We thought she was using you for your money.”

“You thought I was what?” You asked, eyes wide in disbelief. You looked to Kirk who had pretty much the same expression. “I thought you said they liked me?”

Kirk wrapped an arm around you but you pushed him off. “I thought they did, honest!” He said, reaching for you again.

“Fuck, this is stupid!” You groaned turning around and walking right back out of the studio.

Kirk turned to James, so many things he wanted to say but nothing came out.

[rafecameronssl4t]

Can you please write one where Drew and reader are in a relationship and they have a big fight before an interview with the whole cast. When reader gets there she is really sad and she’s spacing out while fidgeting with her fingers and the others notice and she also skipped her meals and didn’t sleep well since he wasn’t next to her. Maddie Cline pulls her aside and talks to her to ask what’s wrong and she maybe tells her that she hasn’t eaten nor slept well and maybe Drew hears and is concerned. I just want some angst so if you want to write this PLEASE DO! <3

Behind the scenes || Drew Starkey x actress!reader

A/n: love love loveeee this idea tyy!!! keep them coming xx

Warnings: angst!!

Word count: 1,997

MASTERLIST

divider by @h-aewo

The morning light barely peeked through the curtains of the hotel room as the tension from the night before lingered like an unshakable weight. You and Drew had argued—something rare but emotionally exhausting. His words replayed in your mind, harsh in the heat of the moment, and you couldn't help but feel your chest tighten with regret and sadness. He'd stormed out after saying he needed some space, leaving you alone with a hollow ache.

The fight had been about something trivial at first, but it spiralled into uncharted emotional territory—questions of priorities, insecurities, and your relationship's strength. Drew's absence from the bed that night only made things worse, and you barely slept, staring at the ceiling as anxiety gnawed at you.

Morning came all too soon, and the looming cast interview offered no reprieve. You avoided breakfast, your appetite nonexistent as you focused on pulling yourself together for the day. But no amount of makeup could hide the dark circles under your eyes, and your usual spark felt dimmed as you arrived at the studio.

Arriving at the studio, you took a deep breath and stepped inside, your heart heavy and your mind scattered. Maddie spotted you immediately, her face lighting up with a radiant smile. Her enthusiasm was unrelenting as she crossed the room, her arms wide open. “Oh, there you are!” she exclaimed, wrapping you in a warm hug. Her energy was infectious, but you felt yourself faltering as you tried to match her cheerfulness.

“I’m so glad you’re here! The other girls haven’t arrived yet.” You forced a smile, nodding as if to reassure her—and maybe yourself. “Yeah, glad to be here,” you said, your voice softer than usual. Maddie chuckled, looping her arm through yours. “Come on, I brought muffins. Figured we could snack while getting touch-ups,” she said, leading you toward the hair and makeup station.

You followed her, your heart sinking slightly when you caught sight of Drew in the reflection of the mirror. He was across the room with Chase and Austin, laughing softly at something they said. He hadn’t even glanced your way yet, and it stung more than you wanted to admit. Maddie broke you out of your thoughts, nudging you with a muffin in hand. “Want one? They’re fresh—blueberry, your favourite!” You hesitated, glancing at the pastry before offering a polite smile.

“No, thanks. I already ate on my way here,” you lied, hoping she wouldn’t push further. Maddie nodded, accepting your answer without question. “Suit yourself,” she chirped, taking a bite as the stylists began fussing over your hair and makeup. Your eyes wandered back to the mirror, catching another glimpse of Drew. He looked so at ease, as if the fight hadn’t affected him the way it had you.

The longing for some kind of acknowledgment, a sign that he felt as torn as you did, was overwhelming. But instead of confronting those emotions, you turned your attention to Maddie, who was now scrolling through her phone, chatting animatedly with the stylist. You tried to focus on her words, but everything felt distant, your mind weighed down by the unresolved tension between you and Drew. The room buzzed with activity, yet you felt isolated, your usual spark dimmed to a faint flicker.

~

The interview began with its usual lighthearted energy. The host dove into questions about the upcoming season, sparking animated responses from your castmates. Chase cracked jokes that had everyone laughing, while Austin shared a funny behind-the-scenes story that even made the crew chuckle. Madelyn chimed in with her signature enthusiasm, lighting up the room with her vibrant energy.

But you sat quietly, your faint smile barely masking the storm swirling within. The tightness in your chest only grew with every passing moment, your focus slipping further away from the lively discussion. When a laugh rippled through the room, you managed a soft chuckle out of habit, but it lacked conviction. Your hands betrayed your inner turmoil.

They fidgeted endlessly in your lap, fingers twisting your rings, picking at your nails, and smoothing invisible wrinkles in your outfit. The subtle, restless movements didn’t go unnoticed. Madelyn’s eyes darted to your trembling hands, then to your face, where she saw the strain you were trying so hard to conceal. When the cameras cut for a break, she leaned closer, her tone soft but edged with worry.

“Are you okay?” she whispered, her eyes searching yours. You nodded quickly, forcing a weak smile that didn’t reach your eyes. “Just tired,” you murmured, your voice low and unsteady. Madelyn didn’t look convinced, her brow furrowing further as she studied you. But she chose not to press the issue, giving you a reassuring pat on the arm instead. As the cameras rolled again, you tried to centre yourself, to focus on the questions and the easy camaraderie around you.

But your mind wandered. The fight with Drew replayed in fragmented flashes, every word, every sharp look, haunting you. You felt the weight of his absence, the space he used to fill beside you now a gaping void. It wasn’t until the host directed a question at you that you were jolted back into the present. “So, what was your favourite scene to film this season?” There was a beat of silence, then another, as you struggled to process the words.

Your castmates exchanged subtle glances, the pause growing more noticeable by the second. “Obviously all the scenes with me,” Madelyn interjected smoothly, her voice light and playful as she leaned forward to cover for you. The room relaxed, a ripple of laughter breaking the tension, but you felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment. It was then that Drew’s head snapped toward you, his casual demeanour faltering.

His brow creased as he studied you, his eyes narrowing at the pale tone of your skin and the exhaustion etched into your features. His gaze flicked to your hands, noting the nervous tremor and how you played with the ring on your finger. His jaw tightened, and guilt churned in his chest. The easy laughter that had come so naturally to him earlier now felt misplaced, almost cruel. How had he missed it before—the signs that something was wrong, that you weren't okay?

Drew couldn’t stop himself from watching you for the rest of the segment, the concern etched into his features growing more evident with every passing second. His own words from the fight echoed in his mind, and the regret settled in his chest like a stone. He’d been too caught up in his frustration to notice how deeply it had affected you. And now, as he saw the toll it had taken, all he wanted was to fix it.

~

"Okay, we have a 10 minute break," The producer says as you're the first to get out of your seat as the others watch with slight confusion, already undoing your mic. "Y/n!" Maddie calls out as you walk towards your hair and makeup chair. You look at yourself in the mirror, letting out a shaky breathe you touch up your makeup.

Maddie stands behind you, her hands on your shoulder as she studies you. “Alright,” she began, her tone both soft and firm, “spill it. What’s going on? You’ve been acting strange, I know you're not just tired. Talk to me," You hesitated, the weight of her care making the knot in your throat tighten further. Your hands wrung together nervously, fingers fidgeting with your rings as you tried to find the words.

“I…” You paused, your voice trembling. You gaze looks up as you catch a glimpse of Drew. Maddie notices, turning her head to where you were looking. The overwhelming emotions finally bubbled to the surface, your eyes misting with unshed tears. “Drew and I had a fight last night.” Her brows furrowed, but she stayed silent, giving you space to continue.

“It was bad,” you admitted, your gaze dropping to the floor as a tear slipped down your cheek. “He… he left, Maddie. And I couldn’t sleep. I’ve barely eaten. I just—” Your voice broke, and you inhaled shakily, struggling to keep yourself composed. Madelyn’s eyes softened with understanding, and without hesitation, she pulled you into a warm embrace.

Her arms wrapped securely around you as she whispered gently, “Oh, babe… I’m so sorry.” She pulled back just enough to meet your watery gaze. “Whatever happened, I know you two will work it out. You’re good together. But you’ve got to take care of yourself, okay? Skipping meals, losing sleep—it’s not going to help.” Her words struck a chord, grounding you for a moment, but before you could respond, a subtle shift in the air caught Madelyn’s attention.

She glanced over her shoulder and froze briefly, her expression flickering with a mix of surprise and hesitation. Unbeknownst to you, Drew had wandered in. “Hey.” Drew’s voice was low and tentative, cutting through the noise of the studio. Maddie gives your shoulders a light squeeze, giving you an encouraging smile as she leaves the two of you. You glanced up at Drew through the reflection of the mirror in front of you, his presence catching you off guard.

His features were etched with raw concern, and his blue eyes held an apology that words hadn’t yet expressed. “Can we talk? Please?” he asked, his voice laced with vulnerability. You hesitated for only a moment before nodding, unable to resist the weight of emotion in his gaze. You nodded, and Drew quietly pulled a chair close to yours. As he sat down beside you, he extended a hand toward you. Though your fingers trembled slightly, you placed yours in his, the contact sparking an immediate sense of familiarity.

Yet, there was a fragility to it, as if he was holding on to something he feared might slip away. He brought your hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss on your knuckles. The gesture was tender, full of unspoken remorse, and it made you briefly close your eyes against the wave of emotion crashing over you. “I’m sorry,” he began, his voice cracking slightly. The sincerity in his tone tugged at your heart, making your chest tighten. “I shouldn’t have left last night. I shouldn’t have said those things. I was frustrated—but that doesn’t excuse it. You didn’t deserve that.”

You blinked rapidly as tears welled in your eyes, threatening to spill. “It wasn’t just you,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I said things too. I just… I hated the way we left things. It felt so wrong.” The guilt in his expression deepened, and he reached up, his thumb brushing away a tear that escaped and trailed down your cheek.His touch was warm, tender, and familiar, and it made your heart ache with longing and relief all at once.

“I hated it too,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I couldn’t stop thinking about it—or about you. And then hearing Maddie say that you didn’t sleep or eat…” He trailed off, shaking his head in frustration with himself. “You’re too important to me. I can’t stand the thought of you feeling like this because of me.” You inhaled shakily, his words chipping away at the tension that had been building in your chest since the night before. “I don’t want us to fall apart either,” you said softly, your voice trembling but earnest.

You stand up, moving towards him as he moves the chair back to let Without thinking, you stood and moved toward him. Drew instinctively pushed his chair back slightly, giving you room to settle in his lap. You wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in his shoulder, while his arms encircled your waist protectively. He pressed you close, his hand resting against the small of your back as his thumb rubbed soothing circles on your waist. “We’ll be okay,” he murmured into your hair, his voice steady despite the emotion behind it. “I promise.”

[hannieehaee]

pookie i’m so happy your requests are finally open and would like to request when svt gets cuteness aggression bc of their s/o please? tysm pookie 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

them getting cuteness aggression from their s/o

content: established relationship implied, cuteness aggression, fluff, etc.

wc: 721

a/n: so convinced they'd all be victims to cuteness aggression with their s/o lmao hope u enjoy pookie<33

masterlist

seungcheol -

you could probably condition him into reacting whenever you did something cute. he'd be such an easy victim to cuteness aggression, always falling for any cute act of yours and scrunching up his nose, hiding his face in his hands to not give you the reaction he always gave you but always failing.

jeonghan -

that's a 24 hours, seven days a week situation for him. he finds you the cutest thing known to man and is constantly fighting with himself to not constantly express how cute he finds you. physically has to stop himself from poking at your cheeks or booping your nose.

joshua -

the type to just chuckle and shake his head at you whenever you did something extra cute. he'd sometimes even groan about it, tsk'ing at you and claiming he knew your game, he knew you did it on purpose but he would not give you the satisfaction (he would).

jun -

literally squeals and touches at your cheeks, nose, chin, ears, hair, etc. every time he sees you. constantly playing with you like you're a cute little plushie. it's kind of a staple in your relationship. he cant help the cuteness aggression, and grabbing at you is the only way to solve it.

soonyoung -

so loud and annoying about it!!! makes it everyone's business that he's in the trenches about how cute he finds you. annoying in a way where he'll be showing his friends pictures of you, his lockscreen of you, the cute handmade gift you made him, the voice memo you sent him wishing him a good day. all his friends would be victim to his cuteness aggression towards you.

wonwoo -

more lowkey about his reactions. though he does get cuteness aggression at you a lot, he'll mostly just chuckle under his breath or call you cute and adorable as he pats the top of your head or kisses your cheek.

jihoon -

groans to himself any time he catches himself feeling cuteness aggression. needs a little fidget toy to squeeze in his studio bc sometimes you'll show up unannounced wearing one of his sweatshirts or his beanies and you literally destroy his sanity.

seokmin -

cuteness aggression is like 80% of your relationship. he finds you the cutest thing in the entire world and he needs everyone to know it. squeezes at any part of your body available to him and pulls you into him and traps you into bear hugs at least three times a day. squeals and whines and groans bc he cant help himself around you.

mingyu -

you literally kill him. he'll literally whine out loud sometimes as he watches you do literally nothing at all bc he just finds you so cute. his favorite passtime is to watch you but its also torturous bc watching you implies he's not actively touching you and why the hell isnt he hugging and squeezing and kissing you rn??

minghao -

he doesnt get cuteness aggression a lot but he often finds himself watching you as the two of you just lounge around and chuckling to himself as you do literally anything. he specially finds you adorable when you wear his clothes. thinks you're the cutest thing in those moments and needs to give you (at least!!) a hug.

seungkwan -

it's a battle he fights every single day. he would finally understand how his members and fans felt any time they've seen him do something cute. he never really understood cuteness aggression as much as he did when he met you. he'd scrunch up his nose, groan, grimace, unknowing of what to do with this surge of feelings when you did something he just couldn't resist cooing at.

vernon -

the way he deals with is is mostly just chuckling to himself and shaking his head. the issue is that this happens literally every single time he interacts with you. he can be kind of stoic, except with you, you're always drawing some reaction out of him (usually out of cuteness).

chan -

he'd literally go insane any time you did something cute. very extra about it, groaning and huffing and puffing when you did something cute, blaming you because he swears you know how cute he finds you. sometimes even grabs you and holds you in some sort of bear hug, squeezing you as he moans about it.

[5sospenguinqueen]

Lullabies | Max Verstappen x Singer! Reader

Summary: Six months ago, Max walked out of your life after a conversation about your future. When you find out he' ended up in a's dating Kelly - who has a child - you work through your emotions in the best way you know how; revenge music.

Warnings: Swearing. Angst. Miscommunication. End of a relationship. Max doesn’t look great in this.

Female reader with various faceclaims. Takes place in 2021 but timelines have been completely altered. Olivia Rodrigo songs.

Main Masterlist

next.

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Feb

YourUserName just posted

liked by georgerussell63, bestfriend and others

YourUserName 'and i fantasise about a time you're a little fucking sorry'

12,326 comments

User 1 mother is in the studio, ya’ll. i'm smelling a new album

User 2 did their breakup destroy my soul? yes. do i believe the revenge album will heal my soul? absolutely

User 3 the working titles are so unhinged and I’m here for it

→ User 4 hit you with a car is so real

→ User 5 love that she called him evil whilst also saying that she wants him to drive off a cliff. we respect it

francisca.cgomes i’m SO ready for this. sure you can’t give me a little preview?

→ YourUserName stop trying to get me fired

User 6 sis disappears from social media for 6 months only to come back serving cunt

━━━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━━━

2 months before

━━━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━━━

May

redbullracing just posted

liked by YourUserName, maxverstappen1 and others

redbullracing ANOTHER VICTORY FOR MAX VERSTAPPEN 🏆 #AustrianGP tagged: maxverstappen1, kellypiquet

7,445 comments

User 7 omg omg omg y/n liked. this is not a drill

User 8 was that last photo really necessary? she’s just a wag, she’s not actually part of red bull

User 9 not y/n liking 🥺 he broke her heart but she’s still supportive of his career

User 10 that should’ve been Y/N

━━━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━━━

June

YourUserName just posted

liked by maxverstappen1, victoriaverstappen and others

YourUserName 'you’re just a stranger i know everything about'

10,102 comments

User 11 not max liking despite not even following

victoriaverstappen so talented

liked by maxverstappen1

→ YourUserName thank you, vic x

→ User 12 not the former SILs interacting on main

alex_albon what's that sound? oh, it's just my tears

→ YourUserName doofus

→ lilymhe can confirm

User 12 and now my heart is breaking all over again. i miss the two of them so bad

kellypiquet just posted

liked by landonorris, redbullracing and others

kellypiquet summer break with my favourites 🤍 tagged: maxverstappen1

4,387 comments

User 13 so pretty

User 14 goals

User 15 anyone notice max hasn’t been commenting since y/n became active again on socials

→ User 16 delusional

→ User 17 clearly they're fine if she's posting vacay pics with him

→ User 18 except these are clearly old pics because max had stubble at the gp like two days ago so...

→ User 15 @ user16 plus he always used to comment and this time he's not even liked the post

→ User 19 not to add fuel to the fire but they were also spotted arguing after his podium

YourUserName posted a new story

Baby Fever Angst Series

Tag List (I tried to include all those who asked. Sorry if you only wanted to be tagged in Part 2 to Daniel and not the other drivers, it got a bit confusing haha)

@lav3nder-haze @minkyungseokie @callsignwidow @luvrrish @fall-bambi @evans-dejong @sadsierra2 @justdreamersdream @spookystitchery

[the-californicationist]

Solomon's Seal

John Price works hard to maintain his self-discipline, but sometimes he loses his grip on that fiery temper of his. When he needs help to feel in control again, he turns to you and your impeccable rope skills. You try to keep things professional, but that proves challenging for both of you. After all, John is just a friend, one of your best clients… so why do you keep imagining him as more?

TW: rope bondage, femdom, crying, emotional hurt/comfort, female genitals. Please check AO3 link below for full tag list.

Big huge thank you and kudos to the amazing and beautiful @gemmahale for her ideas and support on this one! Love you, bestie.

You had cleared your schedule the moment you hung up the phone with him. His voice had sounded so strained, like he was struggling to say the words. You knew that, sometimes, John Price’s work asked too much of him, but this time, he seemed so far beyond his usual level of need that you decided it was better to play it safe and cancel all of your other clients for the week. 

As you cleaned your studio, you made additional preparations. Something in your gut was telling you to prepare for the worst. You did your best to remember what he liked. No music, low lights, a soft fan for a bit of a breeze, and jute ropes — none of the synthetics in sight. You eyed your collection; eight hanks should have been enough, but you grabbed four more from the back room just to be sure. 

You never really pried into his life during his visits, knowing there was probably much he couldn’t or wouldn’t tell you. He had given you just enough information for you to understand the basics, and you had scoured the internet with those small clues to uncover the rest. At best, he was a soldier, handling the expected dangers and stressors of the job. At worst, he was a literal weapon, aimed and fired at His Majesty’s darkest enemies; a demon hunter meant only for darkness and secrets and pain. 

When he had come to you last November, bruised and battered, craving your particular set of skills, you had surmised that it was the latter. Sometimes, when you caught a glimpse of the news, you looked at the bombed buildings of Urzikstan for a sign of him, hoping you wouldn’t see one. When there was a battle lost or won, plastered across the front page of the news, you wondered if he had been there in the thick of it, protecting the world from the monsters that ravaged that land, keeping them from your privileged doorstep. 

You checked your clock. He’d be in from Heathrow within the hour. You got to work in the wet room, digging around for the soaps he liked best. His favorite bathing oil was a complex, spicy mix of coriander, basil, and bergamot scents. You’d never admit it to him, but you used it when you found yourself thinking about him, unable to get your equally complex, spicy warrior out of your mind.

John was so different from most of your clients. Many people who came to you were usually seeking something other than what you were prepared to give them. Half of your customers came for sex, for which you added them to your blacklist. The other half was a mixed bag seeking humiliation or reassurance, trying to use you and your art as an alternative to counseling or as a way to explore their kinks. They usually didn’t return after they experienced the level of your craft. You did have a handful of repeat clients who appreciated the practice itself, but they usually had their own partners to play with. You were just a novelty to them. An escape. 

Working as a traditional Bakushi was no fleeting hobby, not for you anyway. For you, it was a spiritual calling. John was one of the only clients who understood that and actively wanted to learn more. He had asked for stretching routines, breathing exercises, and advice on meditation. Your soldier was the real deal, even if he couldn’t remember any of the terminology to save his life. You were just happy he had managed to adopt the word shibari into his vocabulary. You could forgive the rest. He didn’t need to know the names of the knots or the positions of the body in order to benefit from his practice. 

Your doorbell rang. You took a breath to calm yourself. You needed to be centered for John. Yes, you were excited to see him, but he needed you to be his rock right now, and you needed to push your own desires out of your mind.

The door cracked open, and there he stood. He was just as you remembered him, but he looked like he’d been through hell. Those bright blue eyes were sporting a dark, purple shiner on his left orbital bone. He had cut his lip across the top and bottom, a red line still marring the sensitive flesh. John had cut down his beard to a more manageable level, but his hair was long and unkempt. What worried you most were the dark red welts he wore around his neck. It looked like ropeburn. 

“John,” you smiled softly, “So good to see you again. Please come in.”

The formalities of such a polite greeting seemed silly to you after what you had been through together. Sessions with John were always… intense. 

He stepped into your foyer, looking at you like he had missed you, but you didn’t allow yourself to give in to the fantasy. He needed you to be professional, and you had a job to do.

You took his hand and led him into your sitting room, offered him a glass of water, and sat beside him. He held your hand in his, refusing to let go, playing with the small bones in your middle finger absentmindedly. You smiled at him, enjoying the quiet of his presence, letting yourself take in these silent moments, unwilling to break the spell of peace until absolutely necessary. 

He seemed content to bask in the tranquility as well, happy to rub your delicate knuckle back and forth with his thumb, letting his eyes explore you, lingering on your long, silk robe, his gaze burning into your sternum at the join of your breasts. 

“How can I help you, John?”

He took a long breath through his nose, his eyes diverting back down to your connected hands; shame, regret. 

“I lost control, again.”

You had heard those words from him before. When he first found you, he told you about his temper. He hadn’t given you any details, but apparently he had hurt an enemy beyond what was necessary. Something he had done had changed him. He wanted to be different, to be more even-keeled, so he’d come to you for help. 

“The same as last time?” You asked, hoping it would be better than you suspected.

“Worse,” he looked up at you and flashed a tight-lipped, bitter smile. 

You squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back. 

“Tell me what you need,” you ran your other hand across his wounded cheek, watching as the shine of his eyes gleamed in the low light. 

His emotions were at war all over his face. His wet lashes, the twitch of his lip, his darting, avoidant eyes; you could almost hear him fighting in his mind. You put a stop to it, scooting closer to him on the deep sofa, holding his stubbled chin in your hand, 

“Hey, you know you can tell me. If it’s within my power to give it to you, you know that I will.”

“I know, love,” he nodded his head, “I think you might try to talk me out of it, is all.”

You stayed silent, waiting for him to work it out. Rebuilding your trust together after some time apart wasn’t something to be rushed. Finally, after a few moments of thought, he studied your face and admitted his desires,

“I want it all. Just like last spring, but more. I need more.”

Your eyes widened before you could stop yourself. You remembered last spring. Vividly. In fact, you had thought about that appointment more times than you would ever admit. He had pushed himself so far, he’d trusted you so deeply, and you’d watched him heal from his wounds. He’d found a new kind of peace. You remember holding him, still bound, both of you sprawled across the floor, sweaty and grinning, your foreheads pressed together, sharing in his joy. 

But, you also knew that him wanting more meant that you would be restraining him from head to toe. He’d done arm and chest bindings with you, and in the spring, you’d put him in a single-leg frog tie. But, you’d never done full body work with him. For all of his progress, John still had issues letting his power be taken from him. He wanted to be in control, almost to the point of obsession, and it was only when he was in your ropes that he was able to practice internal control over himself without threat of judgment or danger. He could examine his temper in your safe setting, testing it like a scientist, finding new strengths within himself, mental hurdles to overcome.

However, you worried about what his mental state would be like when he was fully at your mercy. Had he ever been at anyone’s mercy? You doubted it. 

He could see you rolling over the problem in your mind, watching as you thought it through, imagining the possibilities. 

“What d’ya say, love? Think we can try?” His eyes met yours, and you nodded. 

“Yes, let’s try.”

“I might… uh,” he hesitated, clearly unsure of how his next request might be received, “I’m not sure how to say this, but I might need you… after. I know that’s not what you do, but after last spring, I thought you might make an exception.”

You were fully aware of what he meant. Last spring, laying there sweaty and swimming in euphoria together, you had broken your own rule. You’d let your body slide over John’s naked, tied form, and you’d rubbed his cock across your belly and on top of your pussy, sharing an orgasm together. It was reckless of you, and fully outside of the scope of your role, but it was what was right for you both at the time. He hadn’t asked for a repeat performance, always the perfect gentleman, until now.

You nodded, 

“Thank you for asking. We’ll see how it goes, and I’ll check in again at the end. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You moved to leave the comfort of the sofa, but he caught your hand,

“Can we start now? Just a bit. If that’s alright.”

“Alright,” you agreed, “Any new injuries I should know about?”

His face stretched into a boyish smile,

“Too many to count.”

You shook your head, ducking into your studio to grab one hank of rope,

“You’re the only one who gets a pass on that, you know.”

You watched his eyes dart to your hands as you untied the bundle, looping the rope end over end, making your first bight. His energy was electric, but you could see something dark slithering underneath. 

“I’ll start now, but you need to talk to me. What makes it worse now, John?”

You stood in the middle of the room, watching as he moved into position in front of you. You waited patiently, not needing to give him instructions. John knew what you wanted from him. 

He avoided your question, going through the motions of preparing his body for your work. He tugged off his coat and tee shirt, raking it over his broad back, and you tried to ignore the aching red marks that littered his scarred skin. Then, he unbuckled his belt, letting the metal tip clatter and clang in the quiet room, dropping his jeans and peeling off his shoes and socks. Naked, he folded his clothes and lay them to the side. Then, he found his neutral position, kneeling at your feet, palms flat on his thighs, head bowed as if in prayer. 

“Hands behind your head, palm to palm,” you spoke your first command, listening to the timbre of your voice and knowing it was different. You were changing into the person that he needed; someone strong, unyielding. 

He complied, but he looked a little surprised. You’d never asked him for this position before, but you knew it would get his attention. He would feel the vulnerability of it immediately, his sensitive ribs and armpits exposed. 

You started your work, tying his wrists carefully, making sure to leave the proper amount of room, running the rope, rubbing between the soft jute and his hairy skin to check and double check it for safety. As soon as you had one wrist bound, you moved to the other and heard him begin to talk. 

“I nearly lost one of my men last week. Good bloke. Took a bullet for me, so I broke the rules.”

“Which rules?”

“All of them,” he looked up at you, rueful and yet unrepentant.

“Would you do it differently,” you admired the smoothness of his wrist, watching as his pulse beat just under the thin skin, rushing through blue veins, “If you could go back in time?”

“No,” Price’s voice was like that of a beast. A dragon. It was a short, simple word, but within it, you understood exactly the feeling of vengeance he was carrying within it. No, he would not go back and change his actions. He would repeat them. That much was clear. 

“It doesn’t sound to me like you were out of control, then,” you looped the knots of his wrists around a temporary harness, simple and quick. This was just for now. You had bigger plans for him after you bathed. 

John’s mouth turned up into a wry smile, thinking about your assessment, then he said,

“You might be right, love. But, I’m here. I needed this. Needed you. There must be a reason I feel so bloody lost.”

“Let’s find your way back, then. Stand up.”

You led him by the end of the rope to the wet room. The off-white tiles glowed yellow in the candlelight you had prepared, and as you turned on the tap, the room filled with steam. You watched John’s face become indecipherable as you untied the ribbon of your robe, letting the silk pool at your feet, stepping into the shower before him. 

You pointed to the small stool in the middle of the wide shower, 

“Sit.”

It was a huge installation. During the build process in your renovated space, you’d asked for two large rainshower heads and a massage wand with a flat drain in the center. John knelt in between the two heads, but well within reach of the wand. You switched it on, watching the water jerk and flow through the metal hose, holding it towards your chest and out of his eyes. 

You started with his feet, washing them with only warm water first before moving the wand up his legs, wetting his body in stages. You didn’t use your hands yet, but you were eager to. John was quite the specimen, and you felt yourself flush as your eyes explored his body, lingering on places they really shouldn’t. 

You were adamant that you were a sex worker who didn’t have sex. You tried to make it abundantly clear that your clients were paying for shibari practices only, and that you did not do… happy endings. Other than your encounter with John, your clients orgasmed alone, and you went to great lengths to ensure it remained that way. But, here was your weakness, asking you to wash him while he was in your knots, warning you that he might crave a sensual aftercare scene, that he’d been thinking about you. It made your skin flush, and even though you were comfortable in your own skin, his obvious desire for you in such a carnal way made you hyper-aware of your bare flesh. 

The wand sat back in its hook, water paused, and the only sounds were the quiet drippings against the tile, a slight sucking from the drain, your breathing. You scraped the soap into your palm, making sure to lather it into a rich, thick foam. You stood, walking around him to his back, and began with his bound hands and arms, rubbing his warm, swollen muscles with your palms, spreading the suds over him liberally. 

A long, animalistic groan shuddered through John’s lungs, echoing in the bath. It set your nerves on fire to know that you were giving him such pleasure. You wanted more. 

You moved to his back, massaging the scented soap into his body, working his skin firmly to promote his bloodflow. As you made pass after pass, his moans became steady and breathy, his mouth hanging open, unable to fight the relaxation he was experiencing. 

You washed his legs and feet, needing to bend over him in order to reach the length of his huge thighs. In doing so, your bare breasts came in contact with his back, only light tapping at first, swaying forward as you washed him. You could tell that he could feel you, and he froze, his noises of pleasure turning into hitched breaths, shocked and inaudible. 

Your clients usually washed themselves, but John had asked for special treatment, and this was a new experience for you, too. You tamped down on your excitement, but you couldn’t hide your nature. As you leaned forward to wash his knees and shins, ankles and feet, you had to press your soft tits and contrastingly taut nipples against him, over and over, like two inkless stamps, leaving impressions on his wet skin. 

Standing again, you waited to give yourself a minute to compose your emotions. The tips of your hair were damp, and your chest was shining from his soapy torso. You tried to wipe the shine away, not wanting to draw attention to yourself. He needed to be looking inwardly, finding his deeper meaning. Staring at your gleaming, sensitive tits was not what he was paying for, no matter what your biology might have wanted. 

You stepped around to his front, and you marveled at how big his frame truly was. While sitting, even though the stool was low, his eyes were directly in line with your furry mons. If he only tilted his chin up a little, he could lick…

Your mind clamped down on that thought like a vice. You breathed steady, kneeling before him and reapplying the soap to your hands, trying to refocus yourself on your work. 

That was proving more difficult by the moment. Washing his broad chest was like something out of a dream. His nipples were so responsive, and now you could see the way his face twisted with pleasure as your hands massaged your serums into his skin. Every swipe over his pink nubs make him gasp in a new pitch, his brow furrowed with desperation, but his eyes stayed pinned to the tile, just like he was meant to. You expected all of your subs to avert their gaze, to concentrate on their mind, and you made it clear that the practice would stop if they lacked the discipline to do so. 

You had never been more grateful for that standard, because if John’s sharp, pale blue eyes found yours right now, you might not be able to keep yourself from losing your own control. 

You stepped out of the shower for a moment, grabbing the tie from your robe, slipping it out of its loops. Then, as a way to anchor yourself, you wrapped it tightly around your wrist, twisting the knots you made so that they would face inwardly, the discomfort reminding you of your duties as his dominant. It would work for now, you hoped. 

Already, you could feel yourself coming back online, as if someone had splashed cold water in your face. That was, until you turned back to John and saw the last part of your process.

You peered down into his lap, hands full of creamy suds, ready to wash his belly and his nethers, only to discover that he was as hard as steel. His cock flagged tall and curved, tapping on his abdomen, far beyond his bellybutton, giving you a reminder of what was plaguing your dreams. It was beautiful. The uncut skin of his shaft folded around the rim of his ruddy head, eager to be slicked down so that you could tease the tip of him. His balls were round and full, hanging as he sat on the edge of the bench, and all you could think about was what delight was stored within them, ready to burst.

You focused on your knots, letting your one ribbon keep you grounded, and you finished the job. Your hands rubbed soap along his belly, fingers dancing through the thick happy trail of his lower abs. He was built like a workhorse, and although he was fit, his body was well-fed and wide, his core wide and protruding with his strength, thicker as he sat on the stool. There was no bodybuilder’s trim waist. He was all power, heavy and built for unimaginable destruction. You’d never seen his equal, nor a man even close to his immense form. If someone had told you John was one of Zeus’ many bastards, roaming the earth immortal and inhumanly large, you might have believed them.

“I’m going to wash the rest of your body. Remind me of your safeword so that I know you can use it,” you commanded softly, hearing your own voice bounce around the hollow room. 

John did not meet your eyes, fully committed to his submission, but you could see his cock pulse with anticipation. He spoke quietly but clearly, 

“Red.”

“Louder,” you instructed. 

“Red,” he obeyed. 

“Again.”

“Red.”

“Again.”

“Red.”

“Good. Stand up.”

You needed to make sure he was ready to proceed. John, experienced as he was, could get stuck in his sub-space just like anyone. So, you made him practice, let his mouth feel the word again and again, primed and ready to be used. 

Finally, you reached for his genitals, washing his cock and being mindful of where you spread the soap, scrubbing ever so gently down his ballsack, and then swiping across his cleft, washing through his legs to clean every last bit of him. 

Then, trying to be almost clinical about it, you washed him off, cleansing his lower extremities to ensure his comfort before hosing down the rest of him. 

Finally, you shut off the water and began to towel him dry, wiping at his dripping skin, trying to ignore how his body’s heat seemed to radiate onto your bare body, inviting you to lean just a little closer, to press into that lovely burn. 

But, you didn’t. You discarded the towel and untied your wrist cuff, leaving it with your robe. You reached behind John’s head and unbound the center knot of his ties, allowing him to bring his wrists to the front of his body like handcuffs. You used the end to lead him like a prisoner through your space, parading him to the studio quickly and quietly, eager to begin the main event. 

Once inside the studio space, you finished untying his wrists, setting him free once again. He looked down at them, running his fingertip across the raised ridges left by the ropes before dropping his arms to his sides, waiting for your instruction and guidance. 

You knelt next to your basket of rope, retrieving a hank from the stack and unwinding it. His eyes darted to your hands, watching you prepare it just for him, like a dog expecting a bone. 

“Lay in the center, arms at your sides,” you told him and watched as he followed your instruction. He was less hard now, more relaxed than before, but before long, as he lay there letting his excitement build, he strengthened again, his prick bowing up onto his stomach, flushed and full. 

You got to work. Your first goal was to put each of his legs in an advanced frog tie, turning his body on its side so that you could bind his ankle to his thigh, first one leg and then the other. Once his initial ropes were in place, you checked their tension, moving two fingers around and around, trying not to notice his mounting enthusiasm every time you brushed along his inner thigh. Then, once you were satisfied, you helped him into a kneeling position, pushing a thin buckwheat pillow under his knees for comfort. 

He shook his head, 

“Don’t need it, love. I wanna feel the floor. The pain… helps.”

You eyed him, turning your lips into a soft grin, 

“If this were a normal session, I would give that to you,” your tone got his attention, and he did look at your face now, needing to see your intent, “But, what I’m about to put you through is something different. Trust me, John.”

“I trust you.”

He settled into the pillow, returning to his meditative position. You took his hands in yours and held them between your two palms, squeezing them tight, binding them without rope for a moment. Then, you began to breathe in deep, cyclical patterns, over and over. He breathed with you, and you saw the tension leave his face. Whatever had happened to John on this last tour was plaguing him, and you slowed things down to give him a chance to control himself again. 

He breathed in with you, and his air rushed out with yours, washing over your skin like a summer wind, keeping your body responsive to him. Every now and then, as you meditated together, you caught his eyes fixed on something other than the floor. He was staring into the darkness between your legs, shadowed by your body and covered with curly hair, hidden from him in plain sight. It was hard for you to focus, knowing he had his mind on your body, but eventually, he averted his gaze, focusing inwardly again. 

Finally, when you felt his heart rate slow, you used another hank of rope to create a short waist belt, applying more tension than usual as you fed it along his hips, knowing his thick ass and thighs could take the pressure. Still, you were adamant about safety, watching him every moment for discoloration or discomfort. 

He was fidgeting now that the tighter straps were on him, and you saw him closing off his stance, bringing his knees closer together. You caught him, and used one of the loops on his thigh to pull his legs apart again,

“Spread them. Let the pressure flow through your belly and out of your center.”

“Aye,” he sighed, settling into the pain and doing his best to spread his knees wider, concentrating on the feeling. His cock was leaking now, leaving little dark marks on the canvas of his knee bolster, bobbing between his legs as he spread them wider, shining and wet. 

You grabbed another rope, trying to hone in on your work,

“I’m going to bind you in almost the same style we practiced last spring, but it will be modified to provide more of that challenge you’ve been looking for. Place your hands behind your back, palms on your elbows, if you can.”

Not every sub had the flexibility to obey, but John did. He’d been doing his stretches. As he assumed his position, his arms’ placement made his chest broad and high, stretching his pecs open while his back was pinned, the skin folding in on itself as his shoulder blades folded back like featherless wings. You threaded your rope over his shoulders, centering the bight at the back of his neck for an anchor point. It was essential that no pressure was applied to the front of his throat, and you were ever-mindful of the fresh injuries that marred his neck. 

“What happened here?” You asked, letting your finger pass under a rope that lay on his injured skin, making sure it was loose and gentle. You would give him tightness elsewhere. 

He was hesitant to answer you, but he shrugged,

“Bastard came up behind me. Before I could react, he had the wire around my throat.”

“Did you escape on your own?” You pried, trying to keep him talking as you started the long process of his arm binding. 

“Aye. He was so busy trying to choke me, he forgot I still had free hands and plenty of bloody knives in my belt.”

You praised him for his openness,

“Good.”

“Is it?” Now, you heard the doubt in his tone. It made you pause, but you simply continued with your ties, not allowing him to know that you were challenged by his cynicism or regret or whatever darkness was making him lean on his fear and anger instead of his peace.

You left his question unanswered, allowing it to hang in the air between you, forcing his mind to dwell on it. You needed him to answer it within himself before you went opening more portals to other emotions and struggles. 

You added more and more rope to his binding, and when you finished, you pulled the cord forward across his chest, resting it below his nipples, making sure to graze them as you checked your tension, enjoying the trembling shudder that came from him as your reward. It was the most advanced harness you had performed in a long time. This one was unforgiving. He couldn’t twist left or right. His shoulders were forced down and back, shrugged tight against his body, and his arms were completely powerless. He could pull and heave to try and move his hands away from his back, but there was no escape.

You sat across from John once more, holding his chin up so that he would know you expected him to look at you, and you asked him,

“Do you have any pain or tingling?”

“No.”

“Say your safeword to me one time.”

“Red.” 

“The next step will be the final rope, and then we can sit together for as long as you need. Do you want to continue?”

His eyes stared into yours with a bright clarity, and he answered softly, 

“Yes.”

You could tell that he was slipping deeper into his sub-space. His eyes softened, but his body shivered. If you brushed your fingers along his ribs, his muscles would kick and jerk. Anything harder, like a deep tissue massage against those huge thighs and he whined for you, smokey and gravelly, full of feral need. 

You moved behind him, taking a rope and placing it across his forehead, using your hand to tilt his head back until his eyes were staring at the ceiling. Then, you carefully crafted a face harness, making sure there was not too much pressure on his more delicate bones while still limiting his range of motion so that he was forced to keep his chin pointed up. 

You connected the rig to an anchor point on his wrists, and then you took your position in front of him again, staring at his bearded jaw and injured neck, watching his body struggle to relax into a very uncomfortable pose. 

“Breathe for me, John,” you knew it was a lot. 

Controlling someone’s body was one thing. Even Price had experienced tight knots before, but when you took control over the head, that animal instinct all humans keep deep within themselves tended to come alive. It was a primal fear. You watched John’s chest rise and fall, his stress tumbling around in his breaths as he tried to stay calm. 

You reached out both of your hands and rested them on his chest, feeling the way he jerked at your touch, overstimulated and sensitive. You pet his fur, the thick brown hair that dusted his body, soft from the oils you had used. As he breathed, you felt it moving in his lungs, and you let your fingertips ghost over his nipples, rubbing them with the backs of your knuckles, admiring the way they perked up at your attention, puffy and swollen from the unforgiving rope that made them bulge outwardly.

“Mmf–fuck,” he coughed, his eyes knitted into a worried sort of agony.

You smiled, bringing your own nipples towards his chest, letting your soft peaks brush against his hard ones, moving your breasts up and down, drawing little circles and crosses over his chest. 

You knew he couldn’t see what you were doing, but he could feel it. He knew, instinctively, and it was sending him into a drunken daze. The pleasure of your touch combined with the pain of your ropes pushed him beyond where he had been before, and perhaps it was past where you had dared to go as well. 

“Control your breaths, John. There is nothing else you are responsible for. I’ve taken it all from you. You need to breathe and to spread your peace through your mind. Focus.”

He didn’t respond, but his breathing stilled, and his eyes closed. You removed your touch from him and let him bask in the sensations he was experiencing. 

Minutes passed, then more. It had been almost an hour, and you were admiring the way he stayed strong, at first. You reached out to him to anchor him when he seemed like he needed help, caressing his arms and back, massaging the muscles that must be burning white hot by now. He was much more determined than any other sub you controlled. If anyone could handle this difficult position, it was him. But, he was not invincible. You saw the way his breathing became labored, and his cock, which was losing and regaining its hardness as time went on, throbbed from its struggle. 

“Do you want to continue?” You asked again, touching him as you had before, moving your hands from his chest to his belly, petting him rhythmically, avoiding his phallus but touching everything else around it. You knew it must have been teasing him, forcing him to imagine how your hands might feel if they reached just a little further. 

“Yes,” he admitted, his voice strained due to the position of his jaw, and you watched the bulge in his neck bob up and down.

More time slipped by. Your hands had wandered down his legs and across the soft pads of his feet. His body was buzzing with the energy he was spending in order to stay the course. He must have been far beyond simple pain at this point. You remembered a similar scene you’d experienced, and this was much longer than you ever expected to be in it. If John was anything, he was stubborn. 

But eventually, you heard him speak, 

“We knew it was a trap before we went in. I was reckless, and angry, and I wanted my fuckin’ revenge.”

He paused but you just kept up with your massage, rubbing him down, letting him know you were still there. He continued,

“That bastard was gonna shoot me,” John’s voice cracked from his despair, and you saw shining tears stream down his temples and into his hair, “It was me that he wanted. Then, my… one of my men, he jumped right in front of the gun and took the bullet for me. I thought he was dead. I thought I was, too. But, after… I left my team. Charged in alone. I did things to those men that I'll have to think about for the rest of my bloody days. I became… something else. Something… “

You wiped the tears from his face, petting his cheeks, letting your thumbs brush over his lips gently. He sighed, and you could feel his breath on your fingers,

“It wasn’t right. I knew better, I just wanted them to bloody pay. Wasn’t sure if I was going home with a fuckin’ medal or my papers. Didn’t care.”

There was a long pause, and then, his voice became small. His eyes were still fixed on the ceiling, but they were wide, full of fear and uncertainty,

“Am I a monster? Is that… Is that the real me? Who am I? What am I?”

You leaned forward and planted delicate kisses across John’s stretched neck, licking and sucking at his skin in very light, careful touches, tasting his wounds and trying to heal them.

You sat back, removing yourself from his body, letting him sit alone for a moment before you said,

“You are a human being. You are capable of love and hate, pleasure and pain. You might feel like you need to answer for some of your violence, but your own humanity is not defined by your actions. You believed that was the path you needed to take. You destroyed dangerous men before they destroyed you. That is not a monster. A monster destroys the innocent. Were those men innocent?”

“No,” he snarled, full of spit and ire.

“They made their own choices. They controlled their own lives. Your perception of your own control is too broad, John. You couldn’t save them. They didn’t need saving. You did. It was you who needed to be saved.”

“I should’ve been able to stop… to stop… stop killing. I couldn’t. I needed them to burn for what they did to my fuckin’ soldier. To my friends! Fuck!” 

John was gasping now, too full of emotion to control his breath, releasing his stress in deep, bellowing grunts. You unfastened his head harness immediately, freeing him. The instant he could move, he let his head fall forward and placed his cheek on your breast, stretching himself as far as he could, hoping you would be there to catch him. 

And you were. You held him in your arms, wrapping your own across his many knots, feeling the fibers of his ties and the smooth warmth of his body, separate but unified. You could feel his wet cheek upon your skin, his anger rolling off of him in waves. He was letting out each breath as an exhaled hiss, the fire in his eyes at full peak, a blazing rage that seemed like it would suffocate him. 

You picked up his head in your hands, resting your forehead on his and told him, 

“Let it go. Just like that. Scream. Let it out of you, John. Forgive yourself.”

He let himself go for a moment, howling like a wild boar, full of unnatural rage and pain. You heard his shouts and tucked them away from your heart, keeping them for later, choosing to just let him express it and have his crashing waves of feeling wash over you, but you refused to drown in it. He still needed you. 

“Do you forgive me?” His plea was that of a boy, innocent and achingly pure. 

“I forgive you,” you replied without hesitation, “Forgive yourself, now.”

He shook his head back and forth, rubbing his face on yours, bitter and despondent, 

“I can’t…”

“I’m not asking you to. I’m telling you to,” you barked, grabbing him at the base of his skull by his hair, forcing his head back into that same bent position, holding him by force, “Trust me, John. Say it out loud. I forgive myself. Say it. C’mon.”

“I… forgive...” 

“C’mon. I know you can do this,” you used both hands to hold his head under your control, your chests pressed together, your breathing equal and ragged, both of you pulled to the end of your abilities.

“I forgive myself.”

“Again!” You gasped. You tugged at his nape, forcing him to arch his back with what little movement he still had access to.

He grunted in response, breathing heavy, each exhale a guttural shout,

“I forgive myself.”

“Good. So good. Let it out. Use the pain; let it wash you clean.”

You let his head come forward, and you saw a new man staring back at you. Before you knew what was happening, you felt your lips crash together with John’s, sliding along his mouth, tasting him and being tasted by him. His tongue slipped into the hollow of your palate, folding and twisting for more and more control, taking you into him as much as he could manage. Then, he pulled away abruptly, resting his forehead against yours again,

“I’m sorry. I just… I feel…” You watched him search for the words, “I feel like I’m back. It’s been so long, but I can feel myself again.”

“What do you need?”

“I need you,” he tilted his head, exhausted, sitting back on his heels, his face a serene picture of peace, “I need you to touch me, like this. Please.”

You looked at him for a moment and then moved your hands between his legs, finding his warm rod waiting to be held. As soon as your fingers touched him, his whole body convulsed, and he cried out at the sensation. 

You began to rub his shaft with long, slow strokes, avoiding his head for now, finding a nice, easy rhythm, encouraging John to match your breathing. He did, stealing kisses when your faces were near one another, and eventually, you were nose to nose, sharing your breaths again, listening to the rush of air and the wet slick sound of his tacky precome being spread all over his length. 

You reached behind him and grabbed another bolster, putting the soft pad behind his back. Slowly, you helped him lay down onto it, knowing his arms would be crushed by his weight, but making sure the stress was something he could stand. His legs were spread wide, fully pliant and open to you, and you sat between them, bringing your hands back to his center, working his curved shaft up and down, watching as his belly filled with air, expanding from his breaths, only to collapse again, the muscles within him clenching and releasing in an undulating pattern of lust and need.

“Oh, fuck,” he bit his lip, wrenching his eyes shut, “Please… I need… Bloody hell, I need you, love. Please.”

“Are you sure, John?” You tried to check in with him, ignoring your own desire to immediately fulfill his wish, your pussy swollen and dripping in anticipation. 

“Yes. I want you to take me. Please.”

His eyes looked up at you, his body bent and bowed, sweet and desperate for you, looking to you for his pleasure.

Carefully, you straddled him, feeding his head between your legs, sighing with joy as his tip slotted into the soft divot of your hole. He couldn’t thrust up into you. In fact, he couldn’t participate at all. You were the only one who could bring him pleasure or bring him pain, and that thought made your head rush, making you dizzy with desire, knowing that this man, a ruthless killer, mysterious and brutal, steady and kind, all of what he was — he was helpless beneath you. 

As you sank down onto his girthy tip, your body ached from the stretch. It was an effort to fit him inside of you, and you breathed through it, wanting to push yourself flush to his hips. When you met his warm root, you shared a loud moan together, the relief overwhelming you both. 

Then, you used your hips to make grinding, wide circles, churning his cock within your core, making yourself even more soaked, feeling your movements sending repeated signals to your cunt to make more and more slick come. It seemed endless, and it pooled out of you, matting his hair and drowning his dick in hot, sticky fluid. 

He was grunting softly at the apex of each circle of your hips, his voice hoarse and full of want. You heard him wanting more, wanting you to hump him up and down, to slide yourself along his cock from root to tip. But, you were in charge, and you set the pace. So, you continued, around and around and around in an impossible spiral, using your hands to play with his nipples, pinching them cruelly, positioning them under the tight rope to make them ache to be free. 

“Ungh, fuck! You’re fuckin’ soaked, love. Feels so bloody good.”

You smiled down at him, refusing to take his bait, knowing he was beyond ready for more. 

Sure enough, he began to beg you, his skin flushed and his heart beating hard from being edged by your grinding,

“Will you fuck me… please? Just… I need… fuck, I need more. Fuck me, please! Oh, fuck…”

“Shh. Be good for me, John. Trust me.” 

You stayed the course, rocking your hips around his base, never letting him thrust in and out, just winding yourself around him like a tight spool, pushing him to his breaking point. He felt so good inside of you, and his cock was so deep, you could feel the turgid body of his shaft if you pressed down on your lower belly, your fingers finding his outline through your skin and muscles and fat, your hands making indentions in your flesh, teasing him from the outside. 

“Cut me out,” he snarled, straining against his bindings hard enough to hurt himself.

You peered down at him, slowing your hips to a glacial pace,

“You know your safeword, John.”

“Cut. Me. Out.”

His eyes were vicious when he looked up at you now. He was like a hungry wolf; his gaze held within it a dark promise that — if you cut his leash — he would destroy you. 

On one hand, your body celebrated that realization. It was eager to be devoured by this monster of a man, but you had worked hard to control your primal urges, and you decided to put your hound back in his cage. You let your hand snake around his throat, squeezing where it was safest, digging in your nails for him to feel your threat more vividly, knowing it would hurt him against his healing wounds,

“If you want to stop, say the word.”

You waited, watching his tortured face, panting and wet from tears and sweat, but he remained silent. You licked your lips, 

“You came here for a lesson in self-control, and I am your teacher.”

For the next half hour, you made sure John Price understood who was in control of his pleasure. You sat on his cock, rocking back and forth until you felt his body tense up, and then you pulled yourself off of him, leaving his throbbing prick out in the cold, tapping at your ass cheeks, begging to be let back in. 

You ignored him, touching yourself with your fingers, using the chubby flesh of his lower belly to rub against your cunt, smearing your wetness all over him as you played in your hole. 

Then, you would put him back inside and start the process all over again, grinding and stopping, grinding and stopping, until your mighty sub was whimpering for release, his balls tight against his core, ready to flood you with his come at any moment. 

Finally, when you saw how fuck-drunk he was, coming in and out of consciousness like he’d been drugged, you decided to relieve him of his burden. You caught his eye and made sure he knew what was coming. Immediately, you had his full attention. He began to chant, hoarse and rasping under his breath,

“Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck…”

You let the anticipation build, slipping your pussy over his head in feather-light swipes, letting your folds tickle his cockhead mercilessly. Then, you began to bounce your hips on his cock. 

“Ungh– love, I’m —” he growled, his words breathless and broken, unbridled. 

“I want your come,” you confessed, getting lost in your own pleasure, “I want it in me… Deep. In. Me,” you changed your tone, tightening your grip on the nape of his neck as much as you dared, “And I’m going to take it from you.”

“Holy fuck,” he whispered, his eyes locked onto yours, shining with fresh tears, overstimulated and raw. 

Then, you saw the relief smooth across his brow, and you waited for a breath before you felt it, spearing yourself on him to his hilt, plugging your cunt so that his come would be plugged up inside of you, filling your emptiest parts, making them warm and swollen with his spend. 

You felt him bursting inside of you, his girth stretching you every time he throbbed, spraying inside of you over and over, dumping his load into your soft hole. When you felt him finish, you began your grinding circles again, causing him to roll and twist, aching from the pleasure and pain. 

“Nngh… love, please… can’t… I can’t…” 

You yanked the slip tie out from under his shoulder, and suddenly, he had control of his arms again. You did the same to his legs, freeing him from your ties, ending his captivity. 

Like a flash, he erupted upwards toward you. His hands went to your hips, sitting up to hug himself around your body, crushing you to his chest and forcing you down into his lap, spearing you on his sensitive rod as if you had planned to pull him out. His mouth savaged your breasts, biting them cruelly, his fingers holding you tight enough to leave you bruised. 

You grabbed his face, holding his bristled cheeks in your hands again, bringing him up to kiss you. You pressed your lips to his as delicately as you could manage, trembling from your bliss. He kissed you back, and that’s all you did for what felt like an eon. Your mind swam through a blank, glittering cosmos, and the only thing that was real was the feeling of John’s mouth on your mouth and his sex on your sex, his hands on your body and your hands on his body, his pain and your pain, his love and your love. You and he were muddled together like pigments on a palette, jonquil and fuschia, no longer existing as one or the other and yet both smearing together, mixed and inseparable, ready to paint a bright, endless sun. 

You had melted, it seemed, under John’s sweating, heaving body. His ribs bullied into your belly every time he took a breath, and his cock had softened so that it slipped away from you. Your body ached for its comfort again, every nature-made part of you punishing you for losing it, coaxing you to do anything to get it back, to fill the space left vacant. You were tucked into his chest, folded and hiding beneath his chin, rubbing at the flat of his sternum with the back of your hand. 

His finger brushed a stray curl from your brow, touching your hair with respect, staring down at you in awe,

“My hero,” he purred. 

You smiled, kissing the stubble on his chin,

“Am I, now?”

“My head…” He stared up at the ceiling again, going to it for comfort like a long lost friend, “It’s so quiet. So clear. You’ve done that for me, and I’ll be thanking you for the rest of my days.”

“I’ll always be here for you, John. You are my muse in more ways than I’ll ever admit,” you laughed breathlessly, a little sad. It was bittersweet, falling in love with a man you couldn’t have. But, you found yourself in him and now you would need to work out how to live without that mirrored reflection. You felt linked to him, two unbroken cords looped together like Solomon’s seal, inseparable and yet laid on two disparate paths. 

“Don’t…” He said, his tone sounding even more sorrowful than yours.

You sat up on your elbow, bringing your face up to his to look at him, to see his emotions, 

“What?”

“Don’t make me hope.”

“What do you hope for?” Your voice fell into a whisper, your heart not having the strength to ask your question aloud.

He matched your tone, purring out his confession with a tired but cheeky grin,

“For a woman who can bring me to my knees,” then, his expression turned serious, and his eyes traced his finger as he played with the stray curl he had found, studying its winding path, “For a healer. Someone who can remind me of who I am. Everytime I stop to catch my breath, I’ve been hoping for you.”

Your heart stuttered, knowing that he was not a man to settle down in one place. You looked down at his chest rising and falling with his breath, matching your rhythm, unable to meet his eyes,

“How long can you stay?”

He put a thick finger under your chin, just as you had for him during his session, making you meet his gaze, 

“Let’s start with tonight…”

He planted a soft kiss on your left cheek.

“...then tomorrow…”

His lips kissed your right cheek, dragging hungrily across your skin, 

“...and all the tomorrows that you’ll give me. I’ll take them all, if you let me.”

John placed his final kiss on your open mouth, lips parted, concentrating on what he was saying. You smiled, kissing him back in earnest, 

“Tonight, then. And tomorrow.”

“And tomorrow,” he nodded, smiling brightly, rolling himself over you to shield you from the chill of the room, folding you into his darkness, safe, bound to him without a cord, knotted together without a bight, tangled for however long the strands would hold.

AO3 Link --- Thank you for the kudos!

[fashionteahouse]

out of your league - paul x reader

AN: super glad that you guys still enjoy this series :x i’m gonna try to do a better job at updating it 💜 much love to you all and thanks for the love and support ! <<prev >>next

You stare at Emily’s smile as you whisper out a simple question.

“..Does it hurt?”

She shakes her head.

You agreed to go to lunch with her. She claims it’s been a while since you both have spent some alone time together.

It was huge. It was reddish and it looked fresh. She seemed lighter. Especially in the eyes. She looked even more happier if it were possible.

“Does it hurt to touch?” you ask and reach your hand and she swipes your hand away. Your hand is back in your lap. She was protective over it.

She hides the mark with her hair.

“Did it hurt when you got it?” you ask her.

“A bit….He did it while…We were you know…Climaxing.” she says in a whisper.

“Is that what’s supposed to happen?” you ask.

“Well, I don’t know…Old Quil says it could’ve helped relived the pain better.”

“Wow.” you breathed out.

“You think Paul will do it?” she asks before she takes a sip of her drink.

You shrug, “I don’t know..Maybe. He might.”

“You two are getting married soon. It’s basically the wolf marrying you.” she says. You nod.

“It’s like…I can hear what he’s thinking. He can hear what I’m thinking…It’s so surreal because it’s like imprinting times ten.” she says in a lovesick trance but she seemed very relaxed.

“Does it freak you out?”

“Surprisingly, no. Not at all.” she says with a light laugh.

“I’m happy for you.” you say and she beams with a smile.

Slowly, you walk in the home, closing the door. You hang up your jacket.

You were alone.

You close the door to your personal studio space. As your fingers worked the clay sculpture, your mind was focused on Emily’s mark.

It looked painful to anyone who didn’t know what was going on. Knowing how you felt around Paul and being imprinted to him, you wondered how it would feel when it’s amplified.

You were almost finished and you heard the door creak open.

His hands lift up the window.

“You need some fresh air in here.” Paul says and you pause your activities.

“Hello to you too.”

He grinned and planted a smooch on your face. You chuckled as it was sloppy on purpose.

“I’m hungry. You hungry?”

“Nah…Not really.” you answer.

“You’ve been here all day I bet.” he says.

“No..I went out to lunch with Emily earlier.” you tell him.

“Oh.”

“But, I can still make you something to eat.” you say as you rise up and go to wash your hands.

“You’ll never believe this shit.”

You bust out into a laugh as you plate his food, “What?”

“We have a female shifter.”

You raise your eyebrows.

“But…Why are people still shifting?” you ask thick in confusion.

He says a quick thank you before he digs in, “Who the fuck knows. I guess there’s still nomads out there.”

“So..This has never happened before?”

“No.” he says.

“What’s her name?”

“Leah Clearwater.”

You froze.

She was older than you. You definitely heard of her and seen her around only a handful of times since she was fairly popular. You both had never spoken. Last that you heard, she moved away after a couple years after graduating high school.

“She moved back?”

“Yeah.” he says with a sigh, “She’s a motherfucker to deal with.”

You would’ve laughed but you just couldn’t.

“What…What does she do?” you ask.

“It’s a fucking Sam marathon. I thought Sam was the bad guy as well but he can’t help who he imprints on. Even if it was her cousin.”

Things were starting to make sense.

“So….She feels Emily stole Sam from her.” you state. He confirms.

You sat in silence as you then hear how her little brother Seth, had also shifted.

Damn.

“How old is he?”

“Fifteen.”

“Poor kid”. you say quietly.

The next morning, you and Paul made your way to Emily’s.

Paul pushed open the door and sitting in a chair with her arms crossed, was short haired girl with a mean look that’s permanent on her face.

She looked over at you both. She looked a bit different since the last time you saw her, she had perfect dark long hair. It was cut now.

“What’s up, Paul.”

He nods at her greeting. She turns her head, glaring at Emily’s back. Emily turns around with a slight smile, you could tell she was a bit uncomfortable as she set food on the table.

You have a seat and the tension was so thick, a knife would’ve shredded in half from trying to slice it.

Sam strolls in with the others. They all say hello to you and Paul, a young boy comes in last as he eyes you curiously. You wave and his eyes light up with boyish charm and waves back.

“That’s Seth, Y/N.” Sam tells you.

“Nice to meet you.” you tell him politely.

“Yeah, you too.” Seth says.

Bella and Jacob sits next to you after Bella gives you a quick hug.

You were pleased to see that Angela came as well. She sits next to Embry at the large table. Quil and Jared bicker with each other as Kim sits quietly.

Things were okay until you noticed that Leah didn’t touch any food. Her plate was empty and her arms were still crossed as she glared at Emily. The entire time.

“You’re not gonna eat?” Jared asks her.

“No… Not her food.” Leah says bitterly as she tilted her head to continue to glare at her. Emily’s feelings looked hurt but she tried her best to keep her spirits high.

“Just eat, Lee.” you hear Seth tell his sister quietly. She only looks at her brother and he immediately gets the idea before he gives up on persuading her. She returns her glare back to Emily.

“Me and Jake’s going to the beach after this. Are you coming?” Bella asks you as people fell into other conversation.

“Sure. I’ve been cooped up lately.” you say.

”Y/N, what are you working on?” Emily asks, trying to ignore Leah’s hard pressed look.

“J-just a clay sculpture.” you say.

“You make sculptures?” Seth asks you. You just nod, “Yeah, something like that.” You were feeling the air be heavy. You hurry up to eat so you can leave.

“Slow down.” Paul tells you softly with a chuckle. If only he knew.

Plates were cleared as you rise up to take your plate to the sink.

“Do you want me to take yours?” you heard Kim’s voice. You turn from the sink and see that she was talking to Leah.

“Do whatever you want.” Leah says, still not letting Emily catch a break.

You felt a tap on your arm and see that Jacob was steering Bella out the door with his arm around her shoulder.

You follow them out.

You let out a breath when you both got to the beach.

Jacob cracks up.

“What. Was. That?” Bella asked as you all sat on a fallen log.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, Leah.” Jacob says. Bella chuckles.

“That was so intense.” Bella says.

“Be glad you don’t have to see inside her mind.” Jacob says and grimaced a bit. You look at the waves.

“What did Emily even do? Did they not get along growing up or something?” Bella asks.

“Emily came to town when Sam went missing, she was supposed to help Leah find him. Sam imprinted on Emily. Emily rejected it at first but the pull to each other was too strong she just couldn’t ignore it anymore. Leah thinks Emily was creeping around with Sam the entire time he was missing and..It’s a mess.”

“Jeez.” Bella says.

“I mean…Sam couldn’t help it…Right?” Bella then asks. Jacob nods, “He can’t. Imprinting just happens.”

“I do feel bad. She has to watch her cousin and ex be together like it’s nothing. God, that would kill me.”

“Yeah. They were like sisters too. During the summer Emily would come here or Leah would go to Neah Bay.” Jacob says.

“Her brother is nice.” you say quietly.

“Yeah. He’s a good kid..Too bad he has to deal with this.” Jacob says.

“He’s like the polar opposite of his sister.” Bella replies.

Jacob chuckled at that.

“They were gonna get married too…” Jacob says.

“Damn.” you and Bella say at the same time.

“She’s definitely gonna freak when-” you freeze before shaking your head.

“What?” Jacob asks you.

“Nothing…” regretting that you opened your mouth.

“What? What? Spit it out.” Jacob says.

You breathe in, “You didn’t hear it from me…But…Sam marked Emily.”

“What?!” Jacob asks you in shock and his face showed he heard the biggest piece of gossip known to man.

You motion for him to quiet down.

“Wait, what? What’s marking?” Bella asks, not wanting to feel out of the loop.

“Shhh..” you say.

Jacob chuckles as he tells Bella, “It’s the solidity of the bond between the imprint and wolf. You don’t have to do it, but it’s like taking the imprint a step further. It’s not even a step, it’s just a whole new level.”

Bella eyes are frozen with slight shock, “Yeah, she’s gonna freak.”

“So Emily’s been covering it up.” Jacob observed.

“Yeah. She told and showed me over lunch.”

“When Leah finds out, we have to hide all of the knives.” Jacob says trying not to laugh.

“I don’t think she needs all of that. She will just tear Sam to pieces with her wolf.” Bella says.

Both you and Jacob hum in agreement.

You all make your way back to Emily’s after some time. Many of the others were gone. You heard talking in the living room.

That’s where you went.

“I’m so surprised you haven’t met your match.” you heard Leah’s voice say. You enter and Paul is lounging on the couch as he looked at her, “Nobody can beat me.”

“That cockiness still didn’t leave you.” she says with a grin.

“You call it cockiness, I call it confidence.”

Leah snorts as she looks up for a bit with a soft smile. It was the first time you seen her smile since meeting her. She looked at you when she realized you entered with Bella and Jacob. She didn’t say anything.

You go to sit next to Paul.

She gets up and goes out.

“Where are you going?” Paul asks her.

“Wherever the wind takes me.” she says humorously.

Paul shakes her head at her with a soft grin. He takes a look at you.

“You staying for dinner?”

“Maybe.” you say with a slight shrug. He then lays in your lap. Your hand rest in his hair.

“Jared told us you guys have a pool.” Jacob says.

“Jared needs to keep his freaking mouth shut I swear.” you mutter.

“Hey, what about me?” Bella says as she leans against Jacob.

“You get a pass… Jake still has to earn it.”

“Aw, what?” Jacob says as you and Bella chuckle.

Dinner was slightly better. Leah wasn’t there to make tension. Emily seemed much more relaxed.

Jacob being immature kept giving you and Bella looks. You only subtly shake your head at him.

“What?” Paul asks as he noticed.

“Nothing.” you say.

“So..Did you and Paul get a date yet?” Emily asks.

“Umm…No.” you say.

To be honest, you’ve been so busy with work that you didn’t get started on wedding planning.

“How come? This is exciting.” Bella asks.

“I’m loaded with commissions right now.” you say.

Going independent was supposed to make things easier. Now, it just seemed like people were tugging on your arm, fighting over you almost. The only good thing about it, seemed to be that you could keep all profits to yourself.

“I could help.” Jacob says.

“Yeah, no thanks.” you say. Sam and Paul laughed.

You closed the door to your small studio room, only for it to open again.

“Come on, Y/N.” Paul says.

“I’ll be there in a few.” you say as you sit down on your stool.

“You’re almost finished anyway.”

“I know. So, let me just finish.”

He stands there for a moment before eventually leaving you alone.

By the time you were finished, it was way past midnight. He snored softly in bed and you plant a small kiss on his cheek before laying down right next to him.

Larry invited you to his upcoming birthday bash in LA.

“Bring your fiancé.”

“If he says yes.” you say as you walk around a bit with the phone to your ear.

When he came in from patrol from earlier that morning, you step back from his smooch. He furrowed his eyebrows as he leaned back in. You softly smile.

“I want to ask you something really quick.”

“What?”

You tell him all about going to LA. He sighs. “I can’t. I would sneak out but, Sam put me with Leah for patrols.”

“Oh…Why you and not anyone else?” you ask as he pulled you into his lap as he sat on the couch.

“She doesn’t give me hell as much as she gives the others.” Paul chuckles a bit, “Sam’s words.”

You then chuckle a bit.

“Did you know each other before?”

He paused a bit. He then nods.

“Yeah…We weren’t tight or anything but she was actually cool before all of the Sam and Emily shit.”

You nod.

“Take Bella.”

“As if Jacob would let me.” you joke.

“You both went to Florida. He will be alright.”

You caress his cheek, “But, will you be alright?”

“I will miss you like crazy. But, I would rather you go where there’s sun instead of locking yourself in that damn room.”

“Hey, leave my room alone.” you say and he grins.

Bella looked up at you with excitement.

“Um yes! I would love to go.”

“Okay.” you say with a grin.

You sit down at the table after she placed her dinner for Charlie in the oven.

“What about Jake?”

“He will be alright…It’s LA. Come on.”

You laugh lightly.

“So, I get to meet the infamous godfather. Is he all macho?”

“No.” you say chuckling, “He’s actually really sweet. He will show us great hospitality.”

She’s happy with this.

“He asked me to bring Paul but..”

“Patrol?”

You nod.

“That sucks…Hopefully a time will come when they get travel with us. They’re the ones who really, I mean really, deserve a vacation.” Bella says. You agree.

You came home. Paul was asleep on his stomach. You were about to climb right into bed with him but you instead smooth your hands on his back.

He groaned awake and you stop feeling bad that you had woken him up.

“No, no, no. Keep going.” he says thick with sleep. You continue, applying pressure.

“Did you talk to Bella?” he asks.

“Yes. She said yes without hesitation.”

“That’s good…I did not want you going alone.”

“It’s LA. There’s no vampires.” you say with a soft smile as you climb on him to get a better angle.

“Yeah. But there’s guys who are human.”

You roll your eyes playfully but you wince a bit as you heard pops in his back but he hummed a satisfied noise.

“I have this right here. I don’t need anyone else.” you tell him.

He turns over and you’re still straddling him. His hands are firm on your hips. Your eyes immediately close as he forced them to move against his rock hard length. You open your eyes up to find that he was sleeping naked this entire time.

Soon, you’re pressed against him as he sits up and you’re sinking down on him with a breathy moan. His hands grip your back as you grip his. You felt the nips and open mouth kisses on your neck. He was god as you kept chanting it. He grunted as he asked you if it felt good. You agree with almost incoherent words.

You ate breakfast that he made you in the morning as you looked at him. He stuffed his face which made you chuckle a bit.

“What?”

“…I was just thinking..” you start.

“What?”

“Do you want…To mark me?”

He stops chewing.

He doesn’t answer.

You look at him.

You only resume eating as if you didn’t say anything. He did too. Eventually.

You wait with Bella at Emily’s while she waited for Jacob to get off of patrol.

Leah was there. She ignored Emily.

“I made brownies. You girls want some?” she asks as she entered the living room where you all where.

“Um..Sure.” Bella says. She rises and she looks to you. You rise as she was a bit frightened to walk past Leah by herself.

In the kitchen you both take slow bites. You both hoped that Jacob would hurry up. Sam made things worse by entering the kitchen from his bedroom.

Not even caring that Leah was in the living room, he places kisses over Emily’s face. She smiled a bit before pulling away and pushing a plate of brownies in his direction.

“You’re the best.”

You hung your head.

You heard a scoff. You look up to see Leah in the doorway of the kitchen. Pissed.

“That’s what he used to say by the way.” Leah says bitterly.

Sam sighs a bit as he realized his screwup.

“You’re a great baker as well. I’m sure you didn’t lose your touch.” Sam offered.

“Fuck. You.” she says with such weight.

She stormed out and you didn’t have to guess that she was in her wolf. Jacob comes in and hugs Bella. He takes a look at the environment as he eats the remainder of her brownie.

“What did you say this time?” he asks Sam.

“I just complimented her baking skills.” he says quietly.

It was silent for a moment before Jacob took it upon himself to silently let you and Bella know that you all could leave.

As you both were leaving out, Kim and Jared were entering the home.

“Em baked?” Jared says excitedly as he smelled the air.

“Go nuts.” you say quietly.

He doesn’t open the door but stands on the porch with Kim.

“Wait..Is it safe to go in?” Jared asks with caution.

“Yeah..Leah just left.” Jacob says.

“Oh.” he says with a slight wince as he takes a look at all of your faces.

“Why do you guys act like she’s the devil or something?” Kim asked. It’s quiet for a moment.

“We’re not.” Bella says.

“Please. You guys are. If it were any of you, don’t say you all would be smiles.”

“You ready to go?” Jacob asks Bella impatiently and she nods as she turns and takes his hand.

As you all walk to Jacob’s home, he shakes his head.

“We’re not mean. Right?” Bella asks as you both wheel your bikes.

“No. She’s just been trying to be Leah’s friend for some reason.” Jacob says.

“Really?” you ask.

“Yeah. Leah will be pleased to have a member of her fan club.” he says as he wheeled his own bike.

Coming back to Emily’s to see if Paul got back, you find him in the living room saying goodbyes to Leah.

“Alright see ya, Lee.” Paul tells her. She goes in and gives him a hug and he returns it.

She doesn’t look in your direction as she leaves out.

“You ready?” you finally ask him.

He nods once.

You both decided to walk home but it was silent.

“We should go sit at the beach.” you suggest quietly.

“Nah…”

You nod as you continue walking.

Paul flopped down on the couch as soon as you two came home.

“Come on, watch this with me.” he says as he was happy that his favorite movie was on.

You groan a bit, “I wish I could.”

“Why do you wish?” he asks.

“Deadline. Especially since I have to leave.”

“Oh…Hurry up so you can catch some of this.” he says trying to keep a cheerful attitude. You smile a bit.

Paul was asleep on the couch when you came out. It was very late, almost morning. You shook his thigh gently as you tried to wake him up but he was deep asleep.

“Paul.” you call. He blinks awake.

“What? I’m watching tv.”

You chuckle, “Liar.”

You pull his arm to tug him up and he gets up. He lays his head on your shoulder, almost making you fall but he catches you with a chuckle.

“Would quit acting silly?” you say. He’s still laughing.

His face was neutral as he watched you pack.

“It’s just the weekend right?”

“Yeah.” you say.

“What time again?”

“Sunday morning. I promise.” you say.

He watches you some more.

The day you and Bella touched down, you all went to an interactive art show. Bella made sure to bring her camera.

Larry’s girlfriend then made him a birthday dinner.

“No fucking way.” Larry laughs as he opens his gift from you.

“Happy birthday.” you say with a smile.

“Thank you so much, Y/N.” he says and gives you a big hug.

You sculpted him a piece of decor for him.

You appreciate the intimacy of the dinner because the next day, that’s when his party began.

For it to be Larry’s birthday party, the guests that came and brought people, made it into the own party. You now understood the dinner the day prior.

People who weren’t even in the art scene were there.

You hold Bella’s hand. It was the first time you seen someone snort a line of coke as if it was nothing.

However, things were better as you both unknowingly made funny conversation with a musician.

“Wait that sample came from you?!” Bella asks in surprise.

He nods with a chuckle.

“Are you making new music?” you ask him.

“Yeah. I just have to make the cover but my album is about to drop.” he says.

“Do you need someone? Y/N is an artist.” Bella nudge you with her elbow.

You wave it off but he looks at you.

“For real?” he asks you seriously.

“Yeah but, go with your original plan.”

“No, no. What type of art do you do?” he asks with great interest.

He hands you your phone back after he swiped through photos.

“Before you leave, we have to link up.” he tells you.

Bella came as you talked ideas with him. It was the first time you were in a professional studio.

“You put cool ranch doritos in this?” Bella asks him as she bit and chewed on a baked chocolate chip cookie.

He smiles and nods.

“It works.” she tells him.

He let you and Bella listen to his songs to get the idea.

“Okay…I got it.” you tell him as you set down your pencil.

He nods with a smile when you show him the ideas.

While Bella slept, you stayed up as you worked on the agreed art direction.

You send it to him right when it was an hour before it was time for you and Bella to board the plane to go home.

You came home and Paul made it seem like you were away for twenty years.

“I should go away more, I like this treatment.” you joke and he makes a disapproving noise.

You chuckle.

At the bonfire, you prayed that Leah would understand imprinting. Seth was just happy to be there. You watched as he followed Jacob around when he arrived with Bella.

“I saved you some burgers and hotdogs, Jake!” Seth says happily.

“You’re the best.” Jacob says to him with a grin and ruffled his hair.

Paul tugged your hand to sit next to him.

Leah came, but with something. A hydroflask.

“You want anything?” Paul asks you. You shake your head as you didn’t want to say yes, only to not eat it.

He tells you he will be right back.

Leah sauntered over and you didn’t expect her to sit next to you.

“Hi.”

You look at her, “Hey.”

“Y/N..Right?”

“In the flesh.”

She chuckled.

“So…You’re dating Paul?”

You nod. She nods.

“How long?”

You tell her.

“High school sweethearts…” she says and looks at him, “It does kind of suit him…. I can’t hate on it.”

You nervously smile as you hoped that Bella would hurry up with getting food with Jacob.

She touched your arm.

“Want some of this?” she whispered. Her mischievous grin made you chuckle. You take a sniff. You make a face that made her laugh.

“I don’t really drink all like that.” you say.

“What?” she asks surprisingly.

“If anything, I’ll blow down here and there.” you say. Her eyes lit up.

“You got some right now?” she whispered excitedly.

You chuckle a bit, “Not on me…But hey, maybe we’ll make a day of it.” Her of all people needed it.

She grinned.

“Hey, you’re less annoying than the others.” she says in a hushed tone.

“Um..Thanks.” you say.

“No, seriously…And then…The girls Paul used to entertain used to be all..” and she makes a disgusted face that didn’t make you jealous, but it made you laugh a bit.

“He did tell me you guys like..Seen each other around.”

“Yeah..Yeah..We did..” she says and thinks off and you have questions.

“Did you guys know each other well?”

She laughs. She covers her mouth to muffle her laugh.

“I’m sorry….You seem cool..I wouldn’t want to lay it on you like all….Damn…I really don’t want to be messy.” she sincerely says and it makes you freeze at her. She looked uncomfortable. She only slightly shakes her head as she looked at you.

“What…What do you mean?” you ask trying to keep your voice light.

“I…I mean…We were young and reckless so..” she says trying to brush it off.

“Hm..” you mused.

“I don’t want to make things weird for you…I’m surprised he didn’t like…Warn you or…Tell you, at least.” she says in a hushed tone.

She wasn’t taunting but she takes a drink to stop talking. It was clearly the alcohol. She was spilling out her words.

Paul is coming back over you two and she calls out his name.

“Didn’t we know each other?” Leah asks.

“Leah…Just shut up.” he says.

“Come on, let’s joke about it. It was a long time ago. You’re with her now. I mean..She has the right to-“

“Leah. Shut. The. Fuck. Up.” he snapped at her.

Her smile doesn’t fade.

“Paul.” she said his name in a tone that let him know that it was unnecessary for him. She then looked at your uneasy face and looked back at him.

”We know each other well. Tell her how well we know each other, Paul.” she insists as she hits his arm.

It was one look that made you freeze.

It was the look that showed he was seething.

“How…Well?” you ask with your eyes down.

“….Its….Before we dated.” he says quietly.

You look up at his chagrined face. You felt your heart form cracks.

“He always hung around us older kids and I found out very soon…He was very mature for his age.” Leah joked. She said it low to where nobody looked over in the direction of the conversation.

You still get up and not even daring to look back at him calling your name.

You rest your hands on your knees as you felt sick while you were on your way home. Shaky breaths came and that gave Paul enough time to catch up with you.

“Just tell me the truth…No matter how bad it is.” you whisper.

“Let’s go home first.”

“Just tell me now.” you whispered.

He swallowed.

“It happened when her and Sam was fighting one time…Me and you weren’t even talking to each other yet... They broke up for a brief period of time…Way before the shifting stuff even happened..We were….”

He took too long to explain.

“You had sex with her….Right?” you choked out, interrupting him.

“Yeah….But, it only happened once.”

“Okay.”

He blinked at you.

“So, that’s why she was acting weird towards me…There was plenty of opportunity for you to tell me knowing she was going to be around me.”

He couldn’t say anything as he looked down.

You turn with that and finish walking back home. He was so silent, you didn’t even realize that he was behind you when you went to shut the door behind you and it stopped due to him taking it over and shutting it.

“Y/N…Let’s talk about it.”

“I’d rather just forget it…You had a past…I won’t hold it against you.”

“Yeah but-“

“Just drop it, Paul…..Please?” you whisper. He takes a look at you before looking down. He nods.

“You can go back to the bonfire…I’m just gonna..Work on…” you trail off as your thumb points towards the room you loved to work in.

“I don’t want to go back…Not without you. If you’re not going, I’m not going.”

You’re quiet for a moment.

You just grab his hand.

”You’re my bestfriend. Why are you so afraid to tell me things?”

He relaxed. Shoulders dropped and you almost didn’t recognize him.

“It’s hard Y/N. I don’t want you to be disgusted with me. I was wild.”

His tone alone made you pull him in close and he smothers his body with yours, it made you incredibly but deliciously nervous.

“It was ‘in the moment’ type of thing. It’s why it’s never happened again. I should’ve stayed in my place...” he says.

“How do you feel…When you look at her?” you ask him.

“ I feel..She does deserves better..I never want to experience that..Ever. That’s why I don’t want to lose you. Ask me whatever you want, I will answer.” he says.

“Will you not keep anything else from me? I get you have a past…You didn’t learn those skills from fiddling with your thumbs.” you say and you hear his chuckle.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not going to judge you.” you reassure. He nods.

It was a nice day as you waited for Jacob to pick up the phone.

“Speak.” he greets.

You roll your eyes.

“Trying to go swimming?”

“….You mean like cliff diving?“

“Oh we can do that. I was gonna suggest my pool but-“

“No! Bells is with Angela though.”

“I don’t care, you can still come. I kind of want to talk to you anyways.”

He hangs up and he’s over.

You both float after an ultimate splashing session.

His face is dripping with disapproval, “You're kidding me right? You let him off way too damn easy.”

“Jake, I don’t want to fight with him.”

“I don’t care…If it was the other way around he would’ve popped his lid and you know it.”

“It’s not like he hid the fact that he got around back then anyway.”

“But still.” he says rolling his eyes.

“He was loyal even before the imprint.”

“Is that how you’re looking at it? Seriously Y/N. You give him way too much grace. I’m not hexing you but let a guy give you the smallest, I mean the smallest amount of attention, watch how he acts. I bet the words ‘I won’t judge you’ won’t come out of his mouth.” he says quoting you.

You swim away a bit and you say dismissively, “Yeah, yeah.”

Emily closed her cabinet as she was trying to make everyone a dinner with the help of Angela.

“I can get it for you.” you tell her as you set your sketchbook down.

You get your keys and Leah perks up from the couch.

“You’re going to the store?”

You nod.

“Can I come?”

You freeze a bit before you nod again.

She compliments your car. You say your thanks.

Leah boredly flips through the magazines at the store. You grab what Emily asked to get.

“We don’t have to go straight to Emily’s.”

You look at her.

She walked by you a bit as she played with her light jacket pocket. You knew the smell.

“I hate all of this…I have no friends. No period…A fucking wolf…Who the hell did I piss off so bad?” she asked in a hideout by the beach. It was very easy to miss.

You squint as grey leaves your open mouth as you speak, “No period?”

She takes what you were offering in your hand and she takes her turn, “I don’t even want to celebrate because I don’t even have an imprint..Like you all do.” she frowned.

“You’ll find your person.”

“Do not talk to me about that when you’re the last person to open your mouth.”

“First of all..” you accept your turn again, you blow out the drag after you held it, “Paul was the last person I would ever thought in a billion years, I would ever even talk to.”

“Yeah but..I would kill for that…The only person who could make it all better…Is happy…Free from feeling how I feel…Why can’t he feel…Just a second of how I feel?”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry…I didn’t want to make things weird. I wish it didn’t happen, the post clarity was just…I was drunk when I started running my mouth..” she says.

“I’d rather that to happen than me going all of this time not knowing.”

She doesn’t say anything for a while before asking, “So…Does this mean I still get an invite to the wedding?”

“Sure..Why not.” you say with a grin.

You both made your way back to Emily’s.

Coming in, you set the bag down on the counter. The cooking food smelled so good as it wafted through the home.

You slowly sit down next to Paul as he watched you. He discreetly sniffed and he knew what took you so long. It was faint but, he’s been around you long enough to know. He doesn’t say anything.

“We were gone all of that time and nothing is finished?” Leah asked out loud.

You break into a chuckle. Leah hearing you laugh, eventually made her laugh. You’re laughing together.

Talking surrounded you as you tried to watch what was on tv but you instead watched the colors and zoned out.

You wish you brought a sketchbook.

Emily does finally says that the food is finished. Paul gets up from the couch and takes your hand.

“Oh my god…This is really good.” you tell Emily.

“Aw, thanks.” Emily says.

“Like…So good.” you say. Jared smirked.

“Leah likes it too. She’s almost finished with her plate already.” Jared points out.

“I’m hungry.” she says with her mouth chewing with food.

“You hungry too, Y/N?” Jared asks with humorous glint.

“What?” you ask as you chewed. Jared saw how hooded your eyes were when you looked over at him and he chortled to himself.

“What?” Kim asks him.

“Nothing.” Jared says as he finishes out his laughter.

You only brush it off and continue eating.

“So, when will the work that you did in LA come out?” Sam asks.

“Soon…Real soon.” you say in a lax tone.

“We have to go back. I had such a great time. California changed since the last time I was there.” Bella says with a smile.

“Right? I mean I would live there…But like…Christmas though. What’s a Christmas without snow? I gotta have snow on Christmas.”

“I thought you hated the snow?” Kim asks.

“I appreciate it….It sets the tone.” you halfheartedly say.

“I agree.” Angela speak up with a grin.

“It does. The first time I seen snow was when I started living here. I hate anything cold and wet but Christmas time doesn’t feel like Christmas without the snow.” Bella says to you.

“I made dessert.” Emily then says.

“Oh my god, yes.” you say with a smile as you put your hands together for a moment.

“No way, you’re still hungry.” Jacob tells you. You ate two entire hearty plates. He’s never seen you eat that much. He voiced it out.

“I have.” Paul simply says quietly with his hand still on the back of your chair.

“News to me.” Jacob muttered.

Jared leaned on the counter as he drinks a cup of juice.

Your eyes stayed on the sink.

“Who would’ve thought that was the way to pull Leah in?” he says in a hushed tone.

“Shut up.” you say laughing a bit.

Leah still didn’t speak to Emily during the days you would still come over.

You sat on the couch as Paul was on patrol with Jared.

Kim said hi to Leah. She only waved to her but flops next to you with a grin, “Hey.”

“Hey.” you say.

“What’s that?” she asks as she sees you doodling.

You just let her look at it. She then asks if she can look through the whole book.

You let her. She takes her time with flipping through each page.

As you were washing dishes at home, Bella texts, double texting you to look online. You do.

“Oh, wow.” you say as you stand at the sink, looking at your phone. The water is still running.

Paul shuts the water off as he looks at you, “What?”

“Look! Look!” you say with a smile.

Your artwork was posted.

“Y/N. One of the most talented people I got to meet and I’m so grateful. Without her, this album wouldn’t have been visually made. Making this album cover with you was great and such a magical experience as we were able to go all out with creativity. You have a real gift for capturing beauty and I’m not just talking about the art itself ♥️ Seriously though, I appreciate her and her mind sooo much. Hopefully, you all appreciate this album just as much as I do. OUT NOW!”

He stared at the picture of you two hugging each other tight. He swipes, there’s another picture of you two not being serious and being silly. He swipes over and there are more where you two were sitting close as you both worked on ideas together.

It displayed the fun you had. He took a look at your face and the faint smile you displayed as you looked at the pictures with him.

You watch as his mood change. Your heart beat faster as you his face hardened.

“What is it?” you ask.

He gave you a face that showed he was annoyed. You close your eyes as your smile faded.

“What is it?” you ask again slowly.

“Don’t act dumb.” he says deadpanned.

“I’m not.” you say with slight annoyance. He reads out loud, not hiding his distaste for a section of the text.

“You have a real gift for capturing beauty and I’m not talking-“

“Here we go.” you mutter. But he still finishes reading over your spoken statement.

“What do you mean here we go?….You were just crying the other day about me and Leah and then turn around, you don’t think there’s anything wrong with this. That’s a love letter, not an accolade….It sounds like you rocked his world.”

You glare at him as you snatched your phone back. The audacity of him.

“I can’t relate. You two actually fucked!” you snap at him.

He clenched his jaw before rolling his eyes, “It was a long ass time ago.”

“Aren’t you even happy for me?”

“I am Y/N. I am. What you did was amazing. I’m not happy about his wordplay though.”

“I don’t know. I made something for someone and you’re thinking I opened my legs for him all because he gave me my flowers… That’s totally unfair. You’re thinking every guy wants to hump my leg. Get over yourself.”

“You don’t want to get me started. Remember New York? With Cullen?”

“What. Are. You. Talking. About? You’re not even making sense.” you grit out, feeling so angry that tears were threatening to form.

“Had I not told you to come home, you would’ve stayed longer and I know for a fact you two would’ve started a little fling.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you say as your vision is blurry. You storm out. You shut the door to the bathroom as you sat on the floor with your back against the door.

Your knees were to your chest as you silently sob, mostly due to frustration.

It was as if you two didn’t know each other at all. It was like two strangers in the home. He slept on the couch. It was like that.

“I’m sure…You two will get back.” Bella says quietly.

“I don’t even know…He’s acting stupidly possessive.” you grit out as you threw a seashell in the ocean.

“The message was nice…He will get over it.”

She didn’t know. She didn’t live with him. But you still give her a silent thanks for her trying to support.

You blinked awake as you were used to waking up alone for the past two weeks.

As you showered, your mind wondered why you two were always butting heads. After all, he was your soulmate and it was as if fights were just easy to collect.

Paul came in while you were sitting on the couch with a book. He was heading for the hallway.

“Can we talk?” you ask him.

He opens the hallway closet and grabs a towel.

“About what?”

“Come on, don’t act like a kid.”

“Take your own advice.” he throws back. You glare up at the ceiling before calming yourself down.

“What we’re doing is toxic. We’re always fighting. I just want us to get along.” you carefully say, trying to be the bigger person.

“I want us to get along too. Which is why I don’t get why you’re trying to hold onto old shit that happened a long time ago.” he says and sets the towel in the bathroom.

“You brought up Edward and New York.” you scoff.

“You brought up me and Leah.”

“That’s not fair and you know it. It’s apples to oranges.” you say with frustration.

“Okay.”

“Okay…So..What?” you ask him, not knowing what’s next.

“We talked.”

You move off of the couch as he started walking. You grab his arm to get him to turn around. He peered down at you.

“Say you’re sorry.” you tell him.

He sniggered. You felt yourself get angry. So angry you wanted to slap the smile off of his face.

“For what?”

You step back.

“You know what?… I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. In fact, I give you my deepest apologies.” you tell him calmly. He looked confused.

You slid your ring off.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

You set it on the coffee table.

He barked out your name.

“This isn’t healthy…I said yes to the loving, caring, secure Paul…. Not whatever this is.” you say.

“Put it back on.”

“I will, when things between us get better. We’re not even married yet and you’re sleeping on the couch like we’re about to sign divorce papers.”

“Fuck…Fuck. I’m sorry! Okay?”

You pick your book from the couch and he grabbed your arm as you tried to leave to another room.

“Let go of me, Paul.” you say in defeat.

“No.” he says.

You look at him.

“No. I want to marry you, Y/N. I’m sorry if I’m being an asshole. Okay, I admit I was being an ass but this…This isn’t worth it, okay?”

You look down for a moment.

“Just please put it back on. You don’t have to talk to me ever again. You can scream that you hate me all you want. Just please put it back on…Please?”

He extends his arm to swipe it up in his hand. He takes your hand and you watch as he slid it back to where it belonged. His hand actually shook which made you freeze.

“Do you even believe me?” you ask him quietly.

“Of course I do. Just ignore me being annoying, alright?”

“You’re very annoying.” you say softly. He looked up at your soft smile and softened his anxious face.

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too.” you say quietly.

He lets your arm go. You walk away and entered your art space with the close of your door.

You don’t make anything. You instead rest your head in your hands.

“How did everything become so hard?” you asked in your mind.

Paul opened the door when it was late, you were asleep at your desk with your head down.

Trying his best to not wake you, he scooped you up in his arms and carried you to the bedroom.

It was the best sleep of your life as you both slept pressed together. Little did you know, it was the best sleep of his life as well.

You woke up with a gasp. Your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to have clarity in your brain. You look down with a sigh and it was the most erotic scene you’ve ever seen.

Your head fell back into the pillows as Paul opened your legs wider and you clutch onto his head. Your eyes squeezed shut as you shuddered with a blinding light behind your eyes.

You both sat in the car as you squinted from the morning sun. You held a donut to his mouth as he took a bite that made you widen your eyes with a genuine giggle.

He chewed and you blink. It was weird. You looked through the windshield of the car, peering into the empty parking lot as you wanted to draw fish. The sky had a great blue. You immediately thought of the ocean.

You slump next to him and he had just swallowed.

A burst of bubbles warmth was in the presence of just him. Reaching over with a thumb and slowly graced the poked tongue that slowly made its way out of your mouth on the left over powder.

You sit back as you didn’t know what made you do such thing, only to find him with a lax grin.

He tilts his head back as he leans to tease your mouth with his. You leaned trying to catch his lips but they moved with his movements of not fully capturing yours.

You eventually break into a smile before leaning back into your seat.

Coming home, he seemed to not forget what you did in the car.

You try to lounge on the couch only for him to pull you in a kiss after sitting down next to you. The heated energy went right to your core as you couldn’t help but hook your leg to rest it a bit on his knee as he held your head to continue eating at your mouth.

You both connect on the couch as you both move your naked hips in sync. You squeezed your eyes shut a for a second as your body moved forward and swallowed all of him. Paul groaned deeply as he held your body as he moved his hips. He lost track of what was what. You couldn’t even think beyond the intense emotion of each other’s bodies molding together.

You both weren’t even kissing, but you both sighed out in each other’s mouths.

You climb off of him as he lifts you up in his arms.

Your hands fall onto the bed as he hovered over you and kissed your back and your shoulder blade. He nudged you onto the bed. As you turn and lay on your back, he opened your legs as you look up at him.

You whisper out his name as he started to grow again. His touches seemed to be amplified with desire. The desire licked the deepest parts of you.

He pulled back from the sensual kiss that smacked off of your mouth, he rubbed himself to get hard again against the white spilled substance that was between your legs.

The extra lubrication was making it hard to stop the erotic noises from spilling out of your mouth.

Paul had never experienced something so moist in his life. His hips lazily thrust as your body screamed in satisfactory tingles.

Bella smirked at the joined hands as you both walked into Emily’s.

You join her at the couch with a smile.

“Where’s Jacob?”

“He’s coming with Sam.”

“Alright, I’m off.” Paul tells you and mushed his lips to yours before leaving once Sam and Jacob entered the door.

You and Bella chill in Jacob’s garage as he tinkered on Bella bike.

It was acting like it didn’t want to start.

You sketch out the idea you had while Bella and Jacob fell into conversation.

The passion project made you feel excited because you haven’t made anything for yourself in such a long time.

Paul was worried when you locked yourself in the room but a couple of hours passed before you come out, fingers covered in pigmented paint.

He watched you wash your hands in the bathroom.

“What’s wrong?” you ask him.

“Nothing…Are you alright?”

“Yeah.” you answer and then he saw your smile. You touch his arm.

“Come look.” you encourage him and he follows you into the room.

He was pleased to see the window open.

The picture was vibrant and he moved toward it. He picks it up carefully with such interest.

“Careful. It’s not dry yet.” you say. He nods as he looks at it.

“Who is this for?” he says. He smiled as he held it up with such admiration but delicately.

“No one.” you say shyly but he managed to kiss it away.

“Can I have it?” he asks excitedly.

You nod meekly. He gives you a handsome smile.

“I love this..I love you.”

“I love you too.” you say feeling a burst of warmth inside.

You breathe out trying to be steady but it was hard because your back was pressed against Paul’s chest.

“Thank you.” he says in your neck.

“It’s just a painting.” you say with a light chuckle.

“Yeah but it’s your painting.” he says.

You wake up the next morning and see that Jacob texted you that Bella’s bike was fixed and invited you to ride with them.

You held onto the wall with one hand as you tried to get ready. You felt dizzy. Paul placed a kiss on your neck. His hands are covering you.

You’re lightheaded as you blink and your vision is spotty. You rush to the bathroom.

He heard you emptying your insides as you gagged into the toilet. He knocked with one finger knuckle.

“Y/N…Are you alright?” he asked through the closed door with deep concern. You gagged again. You cough.

“I’m okay.” you say while straining as you flush the toilet.

You clean your mouth and you shiver as you enter the bedroom.

“Are you sure?” Paul asks as he rubbed your arms.

You nod and clear your throat.

“I just need to lay down.” you say with your heart beating. You pull back the covers.

“I can take you to the doctors.” he says.

“Paul, don’t overreact. I’m fine. I promise I will tell you if I feel worse.”

He looked at you as you hurriedly stripped off your clothes. You’re under the covers, feeling extremely tired.

The bed felt like heaven. Paul was pulled in as he looked down at you. He was soon joining you in bed, not caring you weren’t feeling well.

He makes you lay on his chest instead of the pillows. Sleep claimed you fast.

Birds chirped as you look at Paul leaned against a tree. You look and find yourself sitting criss cross in front of him.

”I’m not ready.”

He gave a look of betrayal.

You wait for him to say something.

”What if I am?”

You blink at the sky.

“Paul.” you say. You look at him. He staring at you intently.

“A lot…And I mean a lot goes on with this.”

“I know that…..” he says in a tone that let you know he was offended that you felt he didn’t already know that.

“I can’t…I can’t keep it.”

You look to Paul’s expression as he speaks out, “Y/N.”

You continue to look at him.

“You’re the only person I want to experience this with.” he says. You stand up. He looks up at you trying to convince you.

“We can…Just not now.”

He gives a look of defeat and he then shakes his head.

“Why do our blessings have to wait?” he asked in frustration.

“I’m not ready!”

You blink awake as Paul shook you gently.

“I made you something to eat.” he whispered in your ear.

“O-okay.” you whispered back.

You were petrified as you sat up in bed.

You held your head as he held your hand and sat down at the table.

He put two white pills on the table.

You say a quiet thank you and you swallow them.

”You slept all day yesterday.”

“Yesterday?” you ask after you swallow your food.

“Yeah. Slept the whole day away.” he says as he eats.

You sat back in your chair.

You look on the table and rise up.

“Where are you going?” he asks.

“I need my phone.”

“Well, can you eat first?”

You sit back down. He just stared at you.

“Are you feeling better?”

“Besides my head, my stomach doesn’t feel nauseous anymore.” you say carefully.

He shooed you off from washing the dishes. You sit down in the living room. You don’t move. You instead just listen intently at the actions of dishes being washed.

The water turns off and he walked in, you raise your head.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes.”

“Must’ve been some nasty bug.” he comments.

“Yeah..Thanks for nursing me back to health.” you say quietly.

He bends at kisses your forehead. He sits next to you and you’re lifting into his lap.

You apologize to Jacob for not coming but he knew from Paul that you were sick.

When you were feeling better, Leah invited you over.

As Leah talk, you took a big rip at the tall glass bong that sat on your lips. Your mind wouldn’t stop eating at you as you didn’t know how you would ever tell Paul what you were dreaming about. It seemed so real.

You didn’t panic just yet, your period was coming up soon. You found yourself praying inside as you genuinely hoped you didn’t get late.

It seemed too serious.

You knew you were getting older, but you felt it was the solidarity of becoming an adult adult. It was a hearty piece of responsibility.

“Stop hogging it, greedy.” Leah says and snatches it away.

“What the heck are you even watching?” you ask to change your mindset as the low volume movie showed shenanigans that didn’t make sense.

“Ah, it’s watching me.” she corrects you as the light smoke mixed with the dust of the room.

Walking home felt like you were walking on a cloud. You hated thinking too much so you were grateful for the walk.

You laugh as you both came home at the same time. He flings an arm around you and pushed the front door open.

Over dinner, he tells you to promise not to say anything.

“What happened this time?” you ask.

“Just chill from Leah right now.” he tells you.

“Why?” you ask.

“Sam doesn’t want Leah to know.”

“I’m not gonna say anything. Come on.” you start to grin.

“I don’t trust it. Just please.” he then tilts his head even more, “Please.”

It makes you chuckle.

“Okay. Fine.”

He then relaxed and just extends his arms some and there was a sign of acceptance while he said the next thing.

“Emily’s pregnant.”

“Whoa.” you breathed out. Good or bad, you didn’t know.

You lean forward and so does he.

You both look at each other and you both see the questions that you both were dying to ask.

“Is she happy?” you ask.

“Yeah. But feeling guilty.” Paul admits.

“She didn’t tell me.”

“She told no one. Sam let it slip when I patrolled with him earlier.”

“Is..He happy?”

“He’s through the roof.” he says quietly but with a grin.

“Hopefully I get to be the godmother.” you say with a grin.

He huff out a small chuckle.

You look down from his eyes as you then lean back in your chair.

“I know that before, you said you didn’t know….But what would you do? If you had found out…That you were pregnant?”

You let out a quiet breath as you don’t even dare to look at him. The way he said the word pregnant made you feel a lick of excitement.

“I-I still don’t know.” you whisper. He doesn’t say anything for a moment. It made you peak up due to his silence. It was as if he was waiting for you to look at him.

“You would look so pretty pregnant.” he comments quietly. It was tender, almost like a purr.

“Paul.” you say nervously. You shouldn’t have peaked up at him. His look was darkly heated but it was subtle. He was dead serious.

“What? You would.”

You look down again with nervous chuckle as you slightly shake your head.

“Are you sure you want to take on the dad bod?” you say to joke around but it still came out shaky.

He still gives you a hum of amusement. It made your heart stutter.

“It’s a lot of responsibility.” you whisper.

“So is shape shifting.” he says tenderly.

You both blink at each other. You then nervously chuckle. He leans close to you, forming his own smile, “What?”

“Nothing.” you say shyly to him.

“It’s something.” he encouraged.

You look down.

“I had a dream.”

“About…What?” he asks.

“Us..”

“Did I look okay?”

You crack a smile.

“You did..But…We were talking ..Like this and..We found out I was…”

“Were we happy?” he asks as he caught the idea.

“You were ready….Me..Not so much..”

He doesn’t say anything as he then looks down. It wasn’t in disappointment, it was as if he was thinking about what you said.

The night fell and you yawned as you lie down in bed.

His hand was so hot. To him, you felt like a walking piece of heaven. He was surprised when you take his hand away from your warm and moist center.

“I’m..Tired..” you whisper and you place a peck on his lips.

“I’m not.” he whispers. He brushed a thumb on your bottom lip and gave you a kiss that made you feel shaky.

You breathe out heavy before you pull away from the suction of his lips. You don’t have time to process the loss of his lips when you fall back onto your elbows, you look at him when your mouth crack slightly open.

Your underwear was bawled up in his hand.

“Paul.” you only say in a breathy tone.

He only glides his hands up, your hips only shift a bit as your eyes fluttered closed. His hands were talented as they caressed your chest and slow burned a kiss with you. A shaky and light sound danced out of your throat that muffled into his mouth.

“Let’s just lay together.” he whispered finally.

You slowly blinked open your eyes as he invited you next to him. Before you lie down on your side, he finished lifting your shirt up from behind.

He placed a hand on your side as he smoothed his hand out. He placed an intimate kiss on your back. It made you jerk a bit from the sensation.

You closed your eyes. You felt the small shifts of movements of his body. Mostly because of him breathing. You knew that he was awake. You realized, that right in his presence was just as good as sex. You didn’t want to go to sleep then.

You wanted to savor more moments like that. His hand shifted to your stomach, it felt like butterflies were soaring in your stomach. It was like you were having a crush on him all over again.

The breath of his slowed breathing is what keeps you awake. It drifted on the surface of your neck as you blinked at the darkness. You found yourself counting his breathing.

[merrybloomwrites]

Been Here for Days

Summary: You never thought about the dangers of dating a celebrity. But when you get taken by a man who's after Harry's money you're faced with the jarring reality that you're not as safe as you thought.

Word Count: 3.7K

CW: kidnapping, drugs, violence, attempted sa, hospitals

AN: I've read a few mafia AU stories where reader gets kidnapped because of Harry's dark world. So it gave me the idea for a non-AU story in which the reader gets kidnapped, simply for being the partner of a famous and wealthy popstar. I've had this partially written for a while but it seemed fitting to include in Whumptober so I finally finished it up.

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Dating Harry Styles came with a certain level of attention. This wasn’t a surprise to you, and you learned how to deal with it fairly quickly. Harry also did a lot to protect you and try to keep you out of the public eye as much as possible. 

Whenever he did get overprotective you’d remind him that it’s okay, you knew what you signed up for. But he always reiterated that his personal life should be private, and he didn’t want people trying to get more information about the two of you than he chooses to share.

One thing that’s obvious is that no one really cares about you. Not as an individual. They care that you’re Harry’s girlfriend. There’s not a doubt in your mind that if the two of you ever broke up, you’d never have photos posted of you again. 

And you’re fine with that too. It doesn’t bother you that you’re just seen as the girlfriend, mainly because it means people don’t care to go digging and finding facts about your life. Your family has been left alone for the most part, and you can still go out alone without being bothered.

Occasionally an individual will show deep interest in you, and you’ll find a social media account dedicated to you. Sometimes it’s a fan page, sometimes it’s a hate page. You let them be, since they’re still only posting things that are already released to the public. Even these ‘more enthusiastic’ people aren’t really crossing boundaries, since they’re not trying to find private photos or follow you to get photos of their own. 

Or so you thought.

Since spring began, and the weather turned nice, you’ve been making sure to walk to work each day. Ironically, you’d gotten a job in a local bakery. You wanted a steady job of your own while Harry isn’t touring, and this seemed like a perfect choice. You love getting up early to bake and decorate what’s needed for the day. It’s calm, and therapeutic. You mostly work in the back, doing the actual baking, but occasionally you fill in up front at the register. 

Each morning you walk to work as the sun is just rising, and you get home by early afternoon. This gives you time to run errands, do some chores around the house, or just take some time to relax before Harry gets home. He’s been working more in the studio recently, but still makes it a point to get back by 5PM in order to spend a couple of hours with you every day.

You cook a meal together, talk about your days, and often put on a movie and cuddle. It’s the simple things that bring the two of you joy, just getting to end your days together. 

You wake up on Monday morning, and it starts just like the rest. You get dressed, kiss the cheek of a still sleeping Harry, and begin your walk. You have an odd feeling, but you can’t quite pinpoint what it is. You were up a bit later than usual the night before, enjoying some adult activities with Harry, so maybe you’re just a bit tired.

The same feeling is there on the way home. But you’d had a tough day at work with someone calling out, leaving you to try and continue baking while also working the register. 

This feeling continues the whole week, and you continue to make excuses as to why you’re so anxious during your commute each day. But when the next week is the same, you begin to grow wary. Finally, on Thursday of the second week you realize that it feels as though you’re being followed. This thought does freak you out, and you plan to talk to Harry that night at home.

But you don’t make it home.

The weather on your walk back to the house is perfect, if not even a little warm. But you don’t feel it. You feel chilled, and nervous, and you’re glancing over your shoulder every two seconds. You’re mad at yourself, berating yourself for not calling Harry to have him pick you up. You’d convinced yourself it would be fine, and you didn’t want to bother him. But now as you walk alone, sensing another person might be following you, that logic seems incredibly stupid. 

As you’re pulling out your phone to call Harry you hear a noise in the bush next to you. Instinctively, you turn towards the sound. Everything happens so quickly, yet as though it’s in slow motion. A man rushes at you, covering your mouth so you can’t scream and using his other arm to keep you still. 

You try to fight back, but he’s bigger, stronger. Despite your best efforts, he still manages to get a needle into you. At first you feel the pinch of the needle, and then you feel nothing at all, and your world goes black. 

When you wake up, you’re disoriented. You’re in a bed, and while it’s comfy, it’s not your own. The bedroom you’re in is completely unrecognizable. Slowly, your memories come back. There was a man. Who’d probably been following you for weeks, tracking your schedule, and he’s now taken you. 

And not to some basement, or a warehouse or something creepy that you’d see in movies. No, he took you to his home. To a bed. And that feels even worse. You quickly assess your body, and are relieved to find that you’re still in your same clothes, and all you can feel are a couple minor scrapes and bruises, likely from trying to fight the man. 

There’s a window in the room so you get up and peek out. It’s dark, indicating a lot of time has passed. You can’t see anything outside, no other houses, and hope it’s just because of how dark it is. Because the idea that there’s nothing nearby is causing you to panic even more than you already are. 

You check the door, but of course it’s locked from the outside. The window won’t open either. You’re trapped. 

There is a bathroom attached to the bedroom, but no way to escape from there either. It does mean you can take a sip of water and splash some water on your face which helps calm you briefly. 

Taking deep breaths you begin to pace. Your mind spins, trying to come up with escape scenarios, and hoping that someone is figuring out where you are so they can come get you. The sky turns pink outside and you check your surroundings again. 

There’s nothing but a large open field. No biggie. Maybe there’s civilization out the front of the house. There’s no way you’re locked in a house with a crazy person out in the middle of nowhere. 

Tears spring to your eyes but you refuse to let them fall. There’s got to be a way out of here. A way back home. A way to Harry. 

You’re left alone for what feels like hours. You’re a little hungry, but that’s the least of your concerns at the moment. 

Finally, the door opens. You stand your ground in the middle of the room, not wanting to back yourself into a corner for whatever is about to happen. 

Taking a deep breath, you stand up straight, not showing any weakness to the person who took you. 

“Well good morning sweetheart,” he says. The pleasantries, the nickname, it’s all nauseating to you, but you keep your expression unreadable. 

“My name is Roy. I’ve been watching you and your boyfriend. You make a very cute little couple.”

“What do you want with me?” You ask, ignoring how violated you feel at the confirmation that this strange man has been following you. 

“Isn’t it obvious? Money. I want money. Harry seems to be quite devoted to you. I bet he’ll pay anything to get you back.” 

And it is obvious, really. It shouldn’t come as a surprise at all that people would want Harry’s money. But you never expected anyone to literally kidnap you for it. 

“Don’t worry though, I’ll make sure you have food and water and a safe place to stay. Might rough you up a bit, maybe have some fun,” he says as he steps forward and runs a finger along your cheek, causing you to recoil and bump into the bed behind you. 

He laughs at that, seeming to enjoy your discomfort, and then adds, “Of course that may be some good incentive for your boyfriend. I’m sure he’d hate to see anything bad happen to you.”

Your fear amps up a notch hearing this but you keep your emotions off of your face. You’re determined to stay strong throughout this whole ordeal. This man does not get to overpower you, doesn’t get to see you break like you’re sure he wants. 

He steps back a moment later and says, “Just need a quick picture, you know proof of life, proof I have you, all that.” Before you can register what he’s saying he takes out an old camera and takes your picture, the flash stunning you. 

“I brought you a sandwich and some water. It’s all sealed so you know I haven’t done anything to it. Wouldn’t want you starving yourself or dehydrating,” he says as he hands you the items. You take them, confirming they are in fact unopened. 

“Eat. I’ll be back later,” he says before stepping out of the room. You hear the definitive click of the lock but you still double check, just in case it’s open. 

Of course it isn’t, but you had to try. After examining the food to confirm it hasn’t been tampered with you take a tentative bite. It’s good, and that first bite kick starts your appetite so you quickly eat the rest. 

Roy comes back hours later to drop off dinner. He again leaves you alone to eat, and you’re starting to get lulled into a false sense of security. You think that maybe it won’t be so bad. If he’s just after money, then he might just leave you alone and then he’ll get paid and you’ll be home. 

But of course it can’t be that simple. 

Later that evening he comes back in.

“I’m bored,” he says. Just two words shouldn’t be so bone chilling, but you understand the implication. He’s bored and you’re at his mercy. He’s already drugged and kidnapped you. There’s not telling what else he’s capable of. 

By the time he leaves again you're bruised, and there’s blood running from your split lip. He’d thrown you around, hit you hard enough to send you to the ground where he kicked you repeatedly. It was terrifying and painful. 

But you admit to yourself that it could’ve been worse. You somehow convince yourself that it wasn’t so bad, that you’ll recover quickly once you get home.

After another day and a half with Roy, you’re doubting that will happen. You’re doubting you’ll recover. You’re doubting that you’ll get home. The situation has turned from terrible to terrifying. 

You’ve spent three nights in this room, including the one you were mostly unconscious for. Roy’s violence has grown, and now he seems to be changing plans again. 

“These bruises look lovely on you,” he says. It’s creepy as fuck, and indicates that whatever happens next will be awful. 

“While the violence has been fun, there are other ways to bruise your skin. I think I’ll do that today instead.”

After days of beatings you’re too tired to fight back. You lay there crying as he climbs on top of you and pins you down. His mouth goes to your neck and he begins to suck a mark there. Bile rises in your throat and it takes everything in you not to vomit at the feeling of him so close to you, touching you in this way. 

You’re wondering how you’re going to survive what’s sure to come next when there’s a noise. Suddenly the door slams open and nearly a dozen people enter the room. At first you’re terrified that they’re here to hurt you as well, but then Roy is pulled off of you and handcuffed and you realize that they’re police officers there to save you. 

One comes and talks to you, reassures you that everything is going to be okay, but still, you’re scared. It’s too much. Too much noise, and commotion, and people. You’re overwhelmed.

And then one more person enters the room. He looks different, more frazzled with a longer beard than you’ve ever seen. But as he crouches beside the bed and holds your hand between his, there’s no denying that Harry is here. 

There’s a darkness that’s been pulling at you for a while, and now that Harry’s here and you’re safe, you finally let it pull you under. 

You wake up in an uncomfortable bed wearing an itchy gown. There are bandages wrapped on various parts of your body and tubes and wires attached to you. Everything is still hazy, but you know there’s a hand holding yours. 

You quickly and clumsily pull away, not wanting anyone to touch you right now. 

Slowly the world around you refocuses, and you realize the person next to you is Harry. As much as you want his comfort, you can’t bear to have anyone’s skin touching yours. Not when it only makes you think of Roy and what he did. And what he was planning to do. 

Over the next few hours people come and go from your room. Nurses, doctors, detectives, all sharing information and asking you questions. 

But you say nothing. You don’t respond. You lay there, watching with a blank expression. Someone brings in food for dinner, and you eat just enough to make them happy before pushing away the tray and curling further into your blankets. 

The next day is much the same. They bring in a trauma counselor and though she’s a kind woman, you still say nothing. 

And it’s not that you’re upset with, or mad at these people. They’ve done nothing to you. But there’s this block in your mind right now. You’re so exhausted from the whole ordeal that it’s taking everything in you just to eat food and drink water and get yourself to and from the bathroom. 

Another two days pass and your doctor is in the room talking to Harry. He tried speaking to you but still you’re unable to find your voice. 

“Medically, she’s well enough to go home,” the doctor says. “Her injuries are healing well enough that I’m ready to discharge her.” 

You perk up a bit at this news. You miss home, miss the big comfy bed with the big windows. You miss your garden, and how peaceful it is. Hearing that you might be able to go back to your house with Harry has you more alert than you’ve been in days.

But then the doctor adds, “However, I’m concerned by her mental state. She still hasn’t said anything, and she barely lets anyone touch her. It’s important that her bandages get changed regularly and I’m worried that she won’t allow you to help with that. So until that changes she’ll have to stay here.”

Your heart drops at that. The despair you feel has you finally breaking through and suddenly you say, “No. Home.”

They both look at you and Harry quickly moves to the side of your bed. 

“What was that, baby?” he asks. He looks hopeful and you know that he’s just happy to hear you speak again.

“Home. Please,” you state. It’s hard to talk, full sentences being something you can’t do yet. But you get your point across and Harry looks at the doctor to see what he has to say about this advancement. 

Your doctor comes closer as well and asks, “Will you be okay with Harry helping you at home? He’ll have to touch you to properly clean and bandage your wounds.”

You nod, but you know that alone won’t convince them. Even though it takes a lot of courage to do this, you reach out your hand and grab Harry’s. He gasps at the contact and quickly laces your fingers with his. It feels foreign, and you hate that you no longer feel comfortable holding hands with the person who used to be your safe place. 

Apparently that was the right move, though, because you’re discharged by the end of the day. You get wheeled out, and Harry helps you get from the chair into the car that’s there for you. There’s still an overwhelming part of you that wants to flinch away from his touch, but you tell yourself that he needs this. He needs to be able to help you. 

On the drive, Harry informs you of the updated security the two of you will have. It’s weird to know that there will be people watching the house at all times, but you admit to yourself that it makes you feel better. 

Once you’re finally home you breathe a sigh of relief. And then you get to your room and the exhaustion hits again. 

You sit down on the bed and Harry moves through the house, doing all kinds of things that he thinks will help you. His nervousness is obvious, and you want to tell him you’re okay, that he should relax.

When he focuses on you again he asks, “What can I get for you? What do you need?”

“Bed.” 

“You’re tired? You want to get ready for bed?”

“Yes.” 

“Okay, we can do that. Let me get you some clothes and then we can go brush our teeth together. And I’ll bring up some water and maybe some food in case you wake up hungry since you didn’t eat too much dinner before we left the hospital,” he rambles. It seems that he’s trying to make up for your lack of words by speaking more than usual. 

Harry grabs the clothes and walks over to you. It’s clear that he’s about to help you up and so you quickly stand and walk to the bathroom before he has the chance to touch you. You hate seeing the pain in his eyes at your rejection, but you’re just not ready yet. 

After getting ready you climb into bed. It’s so soft, so comfortable, and so familiar that you quickly fall asleep. 

You wake up with a jolt, your heart racing as the images of your dream race through your mind. The worst part is that it’s not just a made up nightmare, but the memories of the nightmare you actually lived. 

“What’s wrong?” Harry asks and he reaches out a hand to comfort you. He quickly pulls it back when he sees the way you eye it with fear and trepidation. 

“I can go,” he says. “If you’re uncomfortable with me in the bed I can stay in the next room.”

Immediately you panic at the thought of him going anywhere. “No. Stay. Please. Just, don’t touch,” you reply.

He nods and the two of you sit there in bed next to each other. You begin to cry and Harry fights back tears of his own. 

After a few minutes Harry says, “They wouldn’t let me pay the ransom.”

You turn to him, confused for a moment. And then you realize that he’s explaining why it took so long to get you out. 

“When I got the message from…him. I showed it to the detectives who were here and told them I’d pay immediately so I could get you back. But they wouldn’t let me. Said it would set a precedent and put you in even more danger. Make you a target. That if I listened to this crazy person’s demands and gave him what he wanted, more people might try to take you to get money as well. I hated knowing that they were right. That I couldn’t do the one thing in my power to help you without making life riskier for you. And I hated that you being with me put you in that position in the first place. Y/N, I am so sorry that this happened to you, that it happened because of me.” 

His voice breaks and you sit for another moment absorbing what he’d just said. You didn’t realize before, but now you know that you were mad at him. You were mad that it took so long for them to get you. But everything he said makes sense to you.

And as horrible as the experience was for you, it was awful for him as well. He looks just as exhausted as you are, and though he didn’t deal with the pain and terror that you did, he spent days filled with anxiety and fear and guilt. 

You lay down on your back, looking up and trying to silently send him a message. Once he understands he lays down as well. Slowly, one inch at a time, you shift closer to him. Finally, you turn and lay your hand on his chest. He brings up his hand and places it gently on top of yours.

The touch no longer feels foreign to you. It finally feels comforting again. Building up courage, you move again, lifting your head until you can place it on his chest. This time he doesn’t hesitate, but quickly wraps his free arm around your shoulders, holding you close to him.

For a moment you panic, feeling trapped by him. But then you take a deep breath, inhaling Harry’s distinct smell, and you relax into his hold. 

“I forgive you,” you say quietly. Harry lets out a sob and you squeeze his hand reassuringly. After a moment he controls his tears and regulates his breathing. 

“I love you. So much,” he says.

“I love you too,” you reply.

You know that this isn’t the end. There’s a long road of recovery ahead of you. But being able to lean on Harry, to trust him fully again, you know that you’re going to be okay. He’s going to be there, he’ll help you on the bad days and celebrate the good. 

He begins to quietly sing, filling the room with his familiar and comforting voice. He lulls you back to sleep, but stays up for a while just watching you, reveling in the feeling of having you back in his arms, home where you belong. Safe and sound once again.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Thank you for reading!

[catiuskaa]

charcoal, paint, post-its and tape.

SUMMARY: seeing your boyfriend’s messy art studio, you couldn’t help but want to try and surprise him with a painting of the most gorgeous piece of art you knew: him.

REQUESTED! here by my pookie wookie @4ln-stay8, and honey, this was a beautiful idea! i love writing about art and hyunjin and hyunjin and art (and hyunjin) lol, hope you like! <3

CW: hurt/comfort, mentions of anxiety, reader is really hard on herself as a perfectionist (which sadly i can relate), crying and cursing, lots of fluffy comfort in the end!

WC: 1.6k

[☆🌷🖼️🌷☆]

You hate it.

Your hand feels cramped, your head hurts and you’re close to breaking the paper if you keep on erasing the same lines over and over again.

But it’s hideous.

It’s a sad excuse of an attempt in art and you hate it.

You were tempted to kick the sketchbook away, but knowing that it belonged to your boyfriend, to hyunjin, who could actually do art, made you refrain from doing so, opting to just harshly shove it away from your lap.

It wasn’t fair. You’d seen tutorials. You had practiced beforehand. You went as far as to use his anatomy books to study it, wanting to be able to do justice to his ethereal, beautiful self by at least getting proportions right.

But no. Art wasn’t accepting your preposterous attempt to join into it.

Hyunjin entered your shared apartment as he hummed a random melody, happy to come back a bit earlier than usual, his head drifting off to how he could surprise you and what kind of activity the both of you could do with the newly-founded time.

But he froze after he kicked his shoes off at the entrance.

“Angel?” He called, and you cursed, but barely had any time to put anything back into place as he followed the sound of your gentle sobs.

“Hyun…” you started.

“My love.” He crouched down next to you, looking at you as if you held the stars and the moon just for him. “Want to tell me what’s wrong? Mhh?” He hummed shortly, his hands traveling to your face and stroking it sweetly.

You stared at him, your heart troubled, so the only coherent response you could come up was throwing yourself to his arms.

The long-haired artist hugged you tightly in response, a part of him appreciating having the type of trust that allowed you to break before him and let him watch you reasemble with a little helping hand.

You sniffed, then shook your head sideways.

“Are we doing the nod and shake?” He smiled in efforts of making you join him, which you did shortly, and he allowed himself to take that as a win. “We can do that, pretty. Nod if you want to.” He snickered.

But you shook your head, staring down at the forgotten sketchbook.

“I-it’s just th-a-at I… I w-wanted… wanted to surprise you… b-because I-I wa-s trying to paint…”

Hyunjin’s face shined upon your confesion.

“My pretty girl was painting?” He chimed back with a gleeful joy. “But you’re not having fun. What happened?”

You just shrugged, sinking your head in your hands. “It’s horrible.”

“Can I see it?”

Watching you nod, it was only then when Hyunjin separated himself from you just enough to grab the sketch, then sprung back to your side.

A silence only broken by your unsteady breathing clouded the house as he viewed the canvas.

“Do you want my opinion, my advice, or my shoulder to keep crying?” He offered soothingly, and you rolled your eyes at his last mention. “What? My shoulders are very comfortable. I don’t even charge if you leave tears on my shirt, you know.” Hyunjin teased with a smile that you were quick to match. Another win for him.

“I just… I don’t know…” you sighed, melting against him. “It’s… ugh.”

He stared at your piece in silence, which you didn’t, only zoned out, playing with your hands as the silence crept up your spine.

What if he hated it too?

“It’s just like how you do with your post-its.”

He interrupted your spiral of thoughts, and you blinked at him, so Hyunjin repeated himself with a gentle smile. You then sniffed, a small chuckle fighting to get out in the midst of frustated tears. “What are you on about?”

“You have your cute organizing board filled with post it notes, don’t you, lovely?”

You nodded, but scoffed, still submerged in the depth of the painting —or rather lack thereof. “What’s that got to do with anyth-“

You trailed off when his hands, still a bit colder from the weather outside, cradled your face, forcing you to look at him, a beautiful sight you didn’t notice you were evading.

“Listen to me for a second. Please?” He pleaded, eyes soft, and giggled sweetly when you pouted, a petty way of letting him know you were listening. You blushed when he kissed you.

“So. Your post it notes.” Hyunjin smiled. “You stick them on the board, but often, they slip down, right?” He asked, to which you nodded. “And when that happens, I noticed your little trick, brains.” He booped your nose, and you couldn’t help but smile coyly. “Tell me, beauty. What do you do when they don’t stick?”

“I… I put a small piece of tape on the back.” “And it works like magic,” he grinned, beaming in a kind of proudness you had never seen on anyone, not when it came from others aside from themselves. And it mended your frustrated heart to see him like this, his now warmer hands stroking your cheeks.

He took one of your hands, and with a strained groan, reached to his pencil cade, grabbed a piece of charcoal and stained your hand with it, kissing your palm sweetly

“These are now the hands of an artist. And artists, just like you and me, can be quite like those little post it notes of yours. We bend right after taking us out of the package.” He chuckled, and you followed along, letting the sound of his voice lift your spirit. “It won’t matter how, there can always be a crease, or the glue won’t stick right, or the color is too blinding, maybe too dull, perhaps the paper got stained with paint or ink.” He stared at you, deeply so, allowing you to see through him, allowing you to understand.

This wasn’t about post it notes. Not anymore.

He continued. “But, just as your post its, sometimes…” he smiled. “Sometimes all we need is a bit of tape to stick in place.”

He kissed your tears away one by one, allowing your breathing to even out, matching and following his as you relaxed against him.

“Let me help you stick back on the board.” He looked at your lips in a flash, then bashfully went back to your eyes. “Let me be your tape.”

He hugged you tightly, and he showed you the sketch.

“To me it looks fine, beauty.” He started. “It’s a really nice attempt. Would I redo some things? Probably, if I wanted to be really perfectionist, because it doesn’t look bad at all. Or maybe I’d let the color do its magic.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “The thing about drawing is that we cannot let it control us, hoping to achieve perfection. That can’t be achieved, my love.” Hyunjin laughed. “Even what we see sometimes doesn’t look right in real life. There are references and references, and if a drawing’s sketch isn’t quite what we’re looking, sometimes we may need another one.”

You stared at him softly, comforted in his honest commentary.

“I can help you. You know were to find me.” He smiled sweetly.

“I…” you sniffed, staring at your charcoal-stained hand.

“I just want a coffee right now.”

You both giggled as you stood back up, and he engulfed you in a bear hug, picking you up and carrying you to the kitchen, determined to make you the best coffe in the whole year.

It wasn’t until the next morning that you found him puting your first sketch next to his. Only this time, instead of his usual messy tape lines, yours han bits of tape glued to the back.

Little by little, charcoal and paint helped post-its and tape, but even with the smallest things, it could certainly be the other way around.

And Hyunjin loved it any kind of way— Hyunjin loved you, post-its, charcoal stains and all.

[☆🌷🖼️🌷☆]

catiuskaa, may 2024 ©

~kats, who will now go to bed with my own cup of hot milk (not coffee lol, and sadly not made by hyunjin either)

[ghost-proofbaby]

THOUGHT OF CALLING YOU, BUT YOU WON'T PICK UP. ANOTHER FORTNIGHT LOST IN AMERICA.

☆ pairings: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

☆ warnings: no use of y/n, strong language, angst, eddie is only mentioned in passing this chapter i apologize, sugar/r is manipulating people, minors dni

☆ WC: 5.3K+

☆ AN: not an eddie munson in sight this round, but somehow still proud of this chapter? idk. i had a lot of fun exploring and expanding sugar/reader this chapter and where she's at with it all <3

thank you to my love @hellfire--cult for the divider!

masterlist

You try and recall just when, exactly, your weekdays had started to feel like active landmines. When each step about your day had to become feather-light, dancing amongst obstacles only you could apparently see. 

Monday had been tense upon waking up, only to end on a dreary (and boring) note. Tuesday had always been sort of blue to you, but this Tuesday had a particular twang to it that had left your heart uneasy from dawn to dusk. Wednesday had been for the anxieties – worries and memories and the events of the weekends crawling up your spine until you had considered the consequence of tearing your skin away just to let them all go. 

Day, after day, after day. You went through the notions, and you followed the normal script, and you felt it all eat away at you. 

You’re not even quite sure what exactly you were waiting for. A phone call from Eddie? Possibly. A sudden meeting with your boss in which everything unravels from one single pap photo? Certainly. For Eddie’s people to finally contact your people and for that damned contract to finally bite you in the ass? Inevitably. Even if you’re not even sure you have people to begin with. 

It’s not until Thursday, the first day you take a second out of your commute to even feel the morning sun on your face before arriving at work, that something finally happens. 

You’ve hardly sat down at your desk for the day when Romina comes storming over, eyes bright and erratic as she slams a magazine down on your desk, “Care to explain?” 

You focus on her wild smile rather than the flimsy pages that are slow to unstick from her palm, “Explain what?”

“Explain this.” 

“I don’t even know-” you finally let your eyes flicker down to the magazine as her hand slides away, and your heart drops. The same cover that Matt had presented to you and Eddie in the studio. “Oh.”

You’re starting to miss the dreary Monday. Starting to yearn for your blue Tuesday. 

“Oh?” Romina lets out a laugh, a genuine giggle of sorts. She’s not angry; she just seems goddamn ecstatic. “That’s all you have to say for yourself? Young lady, you have some ‘splainin to do-”

“It’s not what it looks like.”

“And what exactly is it supposed to look like?” 

Her sparkling eyes scream that she knows she’s won as you sink back into your chair further, silently begging for it to swallow you whole. 

You take a deep breath, letting the words fall like a sigh, “I just had some private meetings this weekend with him, going over the budget and planning for my contracted work.” 

It’s not entirely a lie, either. Contracted work had certainly been a part of your weekend. 

“You never meet with clients on your weekends,” Romina argues, tapping a pretty and pink fingernail against the glossy paper, “Hell, you won’t even meet with me on the weekends. What gives?” 

As you begin to answer, she’s blindly reaching behind her, tugging her chair over and seating herself as she seemingly decides this is going to be a proper conversation. “What gives is that he’s a high profile client, Ro. If a rockstar demands to meet with you about a project on the weekend, you can’t really say no.” 

“Did he also demand that this meeting be at his pretty boy penthouse?” 

“Yes,” you don’t miss a beat, trying to not give into whatever game she’s playing at. It’s all light-hearted, but your heart feels like it’s actually going to burst. Maybe you should have skinned yourself yesterday; maybe you’d have room, then, for all the pounding that’s shaking your rib cage currently. “He thought it might be a bit more private there, more…. Well, less paparazzi and stuff like this. Clearly, he thought wrong.”

When did you become such a professional liar? You almost wish Eddie was here to witness it – surely he’d be proud. 

Romina grins slowly, beaming face calming a bit, “Sure. And I totally believe you,” you almost sigh in relief before she’s continuing on, “But that doesn’t mean I won’t demand to know everything.” 

You try to recall – did your PR agreement have any subsections regarding an NDA? Maybe the contract in itself, the situation, was enough of an NDA to begin with. 

“What part of contracted work do you not understand?” you sigh, turning towards your computer and clacking away at the keyboard to begin to sign in. Not that you had any intent to do any actual work – you couldn’t even check your emails in fear (and secret hopefulness) that Eddie may have sent you something. “I can’t disclose any private information of any of my clients. That’s something we learn during, like, week one of this job-” 

“Oh, c’mon,” Romina whines, leaning her elbows onto your desk, “Don’t be such a killjoy. Make up a lie. It’s not like I’m running to this sleazy magazine to tell them you said he had a ten inch co-”

“Romina,” you hiss, despite it all being a joke to her, “That’s not funny! Don’t even joke about my client like that – I could lose the account.” 

You still feel your cheeks heat, though. Feel the flush of embarrassment racing through your veins as you stare at your work friend, heart now hammering for an entirely different reason. 

She thinks it’s a joke, and yet you’re very familiar with Eddie. Your head is racing with all your memories of this weekend – of the weight of him between your thighs and the trail of his hot breath down your chest, of his leg slowly sliding to hook beneath the crook of your knee to spread you wide open for him, and his dexterous fingers dancing along your hips. 

You’d be grateful for the fact that mind-readers don’t exist, but you can tell it’s written so plainly across your face when Romina’s eyes widen and her grin is wiped away entirely. 

“Oh my God,” she breathes out in utter shock, “Wait - did you…. Are the two of you…?” 

You never have to answer. The clicking of heels approach, and Romina is swiping away the magazine faster than you can blink. 

Your name is called out from above in a faux-cheery tone, and when you look up, you’re faced with Lydia’s wine-red lips pulled back into a half smile, “Hey, do you have a moment to join me in my office?” 

A look is shared between you and Romina – the kind shared back in school, the type you might have exchanged with Eddie even. Fear, and teasing, and the knowing that someone was about to be in trouble.

That’s what you’ve been reduced back to. Childish glances and secrets stacking upon each other. What joy. 

“Of course,” you agree, standing quickly as Romina pushes herself back to her own desk. 

Lydia doesn’t even lead you to the office. She herds you, motioning for you to walk ahead of her, and following with the haunting echo of her footsteps that can’t be drowned out by the dull chatter around the office. 

The door isn’t even fully clicked shut behind the two of you before you attempt to salvage whatever disaster is about to happen. 

“Listen, if this is about-” you start, but Lydia waves a hand as she rounds her desk.

“Sit, please.” 

I’m fucked. I’m so beyond fucked, it’s unreal. 

You obey as if this might be the principal’s office. As though Lydia has morphed into Higgins and you’re back in the hot seat, having to somehow provide an alibi to get Eddie out of whatever deep shit he’d buried himself in this time. 

Wait.

Wait. 

A light-bulb seemingly goes off for you as you settle into the slightly uncomfortable chair, watching Lydia relax into her leather office throne. The scenery may change, the commander in charge may shift, but you’ve done this before. 

You’ve lied for Eddie a million times before. There’s no harm in one last time. 

Lydia takes a big breath before she looks up at you, but you’re already staring at the magazine on the center of her desk, “Look, it seems you know why I’ve called you in here.” 

How can you spin this in your favor? In Eddie’s favor? He needs this release party planned, and you need to keep your job. How, how, how? 

“A big promotion?” Joke. Throw her off her rhythm. Just like you used to do to Higgins. 

It serves its purpose – a laugh falls from her lips, expression softening, “Not quite, unfortunately.” 

Her perfectly manicured hand pushes the magazine closer to you, even though she had clearly seen you burning holes into it. 

“We need to talk about this, hun,” she’s choosing her words carefully, which is a good sign. It’s why Eddie had always used you as a distraction or alibi when it came to Higgins – authoritative figures were always softer with you. You need to recall how to use this to your advantage, as well, “I don’t want to jump to conclusions, but… well, it doesn’t look good. You know that, right?” 

No, she’s right – it looks terrible. But how can you make it look good? 

You have a crossroads, right here and right now. 

You could go with the story you had told Romina – claim that Eddie had wanted a private meeting, and had tried to offer some help upon finding out you’d been struggling. It wasn’t an entirely novel idea, just outside of how you usually functioned. Plenty of your fellow peers did weekend meetings or would visit with clients outside of the office to discuss planning. It was quick, and it was simple, and it would get you out of trouble for now. 

But you needed to think bigger than just right now, hence your second option. 

Come clean in a strategic way. Soon, the tabloids would be running stories about you and Eddie regardless. You hadn’t memorized the fine-print of your contract – hadn’t even read it to begin with, really – but you had no doubt that public appearances were included in the package. This wouldn’t be the last time you had this difficult conversation now, due to legal obligations outside of these four walls, if you went with your first option. Somehow, you need to get ahead of it. 

Getting involved with clients wasn’t forbidden, but it surely wasn’t smiled upon. Especially when the client was as large as Corroded Coffin. 

So how do you soften the blow? How do you spin a tale that keeps you from sticking within the intricate web? 

“I’m sorry,” you say in a soft tone, a few steady breaths to get into character. Like putting on an old coat, shimmying into a comfortable sweater for the winter. You needed to sell it. Chin down, avoid her gaze just enough, press your lips together. Pick at your nails. Don’t bounce your leg, though – that’s too much. “I… I’ve been trying to figure out a way to come to you about this.” 

You’d laid the bricks for yourself long before Eddie was back in your life. You need to use them to your advantage now. 

The fright of seeing him in the meeting room. The way everyone knew of your supposed distaste for Corroded Coffin. How a year ago, you’d turned down free tickets to a show. 

“Come to me about what?” 

There it is. The soft and sympathetic tone you needed. 

You pause picking at your nail beds long enough to glance up at her, swallowing hard for show, “I mean, I’m sure you knew how I wasn’t a huge fan of Corroded Coffin before all this…” 

“It was why I chose you for the task,” Lydia sighs, starting to look disappointed. Good. Put the worst case scenario in her head, let her spiral a bit, and then offer you an option that will sound golden compared to it. “I figured they’d be more comfortable with someone like yourself rather than a superfan. If I was wrong, by all means, please come clean. I promise you’re not in trouble, yet, but-”

“I’m not a superfan,” you correct with just the right amount of quickness, acting as though you needed to take control of the spiral. As if you hadn’t had the reigns of this entire interaction in your hands this entire time so far, “I just- I…” Pause, sigh, look back down. “It’s hard to be a superfan of your boyfriend when your relationship is meant to be private.” 

Bingo. 

You see a sliver of Lydia’s shock as you look up through your lashes, biting back your small as you put on the act of a lifetime. As though you’ve just had a secret dredged from your soul, whispered of something that was never meant to see the light of day. 

The big B-word. You aren’t sure what sort of public story Matt had wanted to spin for you and Eddie, but you’ve decided to curate one all on your own. 

You and Eddie didn’t start dating due to this project – no, absolutely not. That would be frowned upon, wouldn’t it? But how terrible it would be, for Lydia to realize she had pried your private life right open, exposing you and your beloved partner out of the last shadows of privacy he may have within his grasp these days. A twisted tale of a love just having found its footing, only for unfortunate corporate circumstances to come and shake the foundation of it all. 

It’d make her feel guilty. It’d make the rule-breaking seem insignificant. It’d make all your behavior over the last year simply make sense. 

There was a reason the boys of Corroded Coffin used you as a scapegoat all through high school. You could play people like a violin when you needed to.

When it came to Eddie.

 “I…” Lydia is at a loss for words, just how you wanted her to be, “I had no idea, I’m sorry, I-”

“It’s okay,” you soothe over, having flipped the tables officially. Lydia is no longer waiting on your apologies or your explanations; she’s scrambling to offer up her own, almost as though she’s forgotten the reason for the meeting to begin with. You were in the wrong, but it conveniently slipped her mind, “You asked me at one point, remember?” Bring that up to avoid her weaponizing it, stay several steps ahead. “You gave me a chance to be honest, and I… I wasn’t. We just didn’t know what to do, and thought we might be able to keep it all…. All… separate.”

You wish you could record this interaction for Eddie to witness. It’d probably make him laugh. Or terrify him. Either would be reward enough. 

Every pause in your words, every forcibly shaky breath, is coordinated perfectly within your mind. You wish half your endeavors could go as perfectly as this one is as of right now. Everything was under control; your job was safe and secure, and your legal contract with Eddie was easily being upheld. It was going too perfectly. 

“No, no,” Lydia waves off, face scrunched in deep consideration, “I understand why you didn’t. It’s…. A lot. Relationships like that are always tricky. And we can’t change the past now, only focus on the future.” 

Too easy. Too perfect. 

“Of course,” you nod along in seemingly eager agreement, “Speaking of the future… how do you want me to proceed? I understand if you want to take me off the project.”

And by simply saying that, you’ve secured that that is the exact opposite of what will happen. 

Hook, line, sinker. Eddie Munson owes you his fucking life. 

Predictably, Lydia shakes her head, “That won’t be necessary. There may be some extra paperwork, and possibly another meeting with HR or myself, but it’ll all be technicalities. If you’ve gotten this far in the project and kept it going smoothly considering the… circumstances… you should be able to see it through to the end.”

Lydia will perceive your relaxation into your chair as relief, as a weight finally lifted off your chest. But really, it’s just finally letting go of the character you’d assumed – the character you’d have to continue to play until your PR agreement was through. 

“Thank you,” you lace your voice with unending graciousness, ignoring the small headache beginning to form behind your temples, “And, if it isn’t too much, is there any chance for me to ask for one last favor?” 

“Of course,” Lydia nods ferociously, almost worsening your throbbing temples by proxy, “Anything.” 

You force your sweetest smile, one last huff of the pathetic role you need to perfect over the next few days, “May I have the rest of the day off? To settle this… situation with my boyfriend.”

—

“Pick up your fucking phone, Munson.” 

Your harsh tone earns a couple of side glances from other patrons on the bus, but you couldn’t care less as you reach Eddie’s voicemail again. 

The moment Lydia let you off the hook for the day, you’d gone running for the nearest bus stop. You didn’t have the cash for a taxi right now, and Matt’s office was conveniently right along the path of the bus that ran straight through the city. It would take a bit longer, but getting anywhere in New York took time with the perpetual traffic. 

You consider typing out a text to your fake boyfriend, to your real ex-boyfriend, before sighing and returning to your email. Nothing. No news from Eddie, or from Matt, or from anyone. When Eddie had said his ‘people’ would be in contact, you had assumed that it functioned on a much quicker timeline than an entire week. 

“Where the fuck does a rockstar even vanish to for an entire week?” you grumble under your breath, hearing a scoff from an elderly woman across the aisle at your profanity. You don’t particularly care, but you look up to her with a glare anyways. 

Heading for Matt’s office had felt like the most sensible option, but the closer you get, the more you begin to second-guess yourself. Eddie could be anywhere. The office, the studio, even his own damn home. There’s no guarantee that you’re about to stumble upon Eddie here. It’s entirely possible that your entire afternoon is about to wild goose chase for the world’s sharpest pain in your ass. 

The old lady holds her judgmental gaze against your exhausted one, and you wonder if it would have been better to have taken the subway to 52nd street instead.

Regardless, the bus finally rolls to a stop, and you’re quick to exit the cramped vehicle. You nearly knock over some poor fool who’s taking his time getting up, having sat a few rows ahead of you, and you nearly trip over your shoelaces as you bound down the steps. You should be thanking the Universe, you suppose, that you wore a nice pair of sneakers today rather than heels. 

“Welcome in!” a kind voice greets you as you burst through the double doors facing the street, open windows pouring afternoon light across the minimalist design. Off-white couches, off-white tables, off-white vases holding mostly white flowers and dull green plants – it all feels a bit cold, a bit dull. “How can we help you today?” 

You bound right up to the reception desk, hand flying up to try and fix your hair and face that must have grown messy in your rush, “I, uh, I’m here to see Matt?” 

The receptionist’s head tilts curiously, “Matt?”

At least it isn’t the poor girl from the studio. You don’t know if you’ll ever show your face there again after your meltdown on Sunday. 

“Yeah,” you card through your brain, trying to remember Matt’s last name to no avail, “He- He’s Corroded Coffin’s manager. I’m sorry, I don’t know his last name-”

“Do you have an appointment?” 

“Well, no-”

“Is he expecting you?” 

Another no almost falls from your lips, but you’re growing desperate. 

So you lie. For the second time today. “Yes.”

It’s easier than the studio was, for obvious reasons. All the representatives in this building probably filter through multiple clients a day. Hell, even Matt himself might have more on his plate than just the boys. 

“I see,” she nods, typing at her computer for a few seconds before looking up, “In that case, he should be in his office. Do you know the way up?” 

Should the fact that he’s in his office, likely not in the middle of a meeting, be a sign that Eddie isn’t here?

You can’t afford to think so negatively. 

“I do,” you sort of lie, again, because you do recall at least the floor that his office was on. It shouldn’t take much to jog your memory from there. Hopefully, “Thank you!” 

This time, you’re sure to be polite, enthusiastically friendly to a painful degree. First impressions in the studio may be soiled, but you can at least save face here. 

Your journey upstairs is quiet, monotonous. 

No sign of excitement, no sign of Eddie, even once you’ve exited the elevator on the proper floor. There’s a soft buzz amongst rooms, normal people working normal jobs during their normal days, completely unaware of the day you were having. The week. The month. 

When you make it to the office you believe to be Matt’s, you sigh in relief at the sight of an open door. 

“Matt-” you start, knuckles rapping against his door as you enter the doorway, frantic and optimistic to find Eddie sitting in one of the chairs within. 

No such luck. 

Only Matt sits at his desk, looking up from his computer in surprise at your arrival, “Oh, hello there?” 

Eddie isn’t here. 

“Where’s Eddie?” you breathe out, eyes darting across a fairly barren room as though there’s any chance the man could be hiding amongst the shelves built into the walls. 

“You tell me.”

Your eyes return to Matt, brows furrowing, “Excuse me?” 

“I haven’t heard from Eddie since Sunday,” Matt sighs, leaning back into his chair and disregarded whatever work he’d been attending to. The look on his face spells clear trouble, “I figured you might have. Besides, the radio silence is better than seeing a hundred different headlines about him. Figured you were… well, keeping him under wraps. Like we’d agreed.” 

You stand, stunned in the doorway, milling through a million different emotions as you process what was just said. 

“I’m sorry,” you start in your disbelief, nodding as your eyes survey the room, almost as if looking for an explanation from anyone except the man sitting at the desk before you, “Are you telling me you haven’t heard from your client in nearly four days, and you’ve simply written it off?”

“He gets this way-”

“And?” you take a few brave steps into the office, seemingly on a roll today. Manipulating your boss, lying to your friends, confronting your ex’s manager – your head will surely be spinning by the time it hits your pillow tonight, “He pays you to keep him out of trouble. Your words, not mine.” 

“Yes,” Matt says, suddenly no longer reclining, almost seeming nervous, “But like I said, Eddie will do this from time to time, and radio silence is better than-” 

“If you tell me radio silence is better than headlines for a second time, I’ll put one of your damn chairs through your oversized windows, Matt.” 

That has him startled to his feet, holding up his hands in innocence, “Okay, okay. But I’m not really sure what you want me to do here – he won’t answer my calls, and didn’t answer the door when I stopped by yesterday.”

“What about the rest of the boys?” 

“Have I heard from them?” he laughs, shifting his weight from foot to foot, “Well, yes, but-”

“No – have they heard from Eddie?” 

A grimace crosses his lips, “Erm, no.” 

Maybe it’s residual irritation at Eddie not answering your calls, or the glares from the older woman on the bus. Maybe it’s frustration from the entire situation, this whole predicament, you’ve found yourself in. But words leave your lips faster than you can mull over them. 

“Jesus Christ, what does he even pay you for?” you huff, throwing your hands up, turning in a circle, prepared to leave the office after having your time entirely wasted.

“We don’t even have any events until next week!” Matt tries to defend himself, but you’re no longer listening, “I- Why are you even looking for Eddie now? If anything has gone wrong with the planning of the release party, or with the contract we signed, surely you know you can come straight to me. You are considered my client as well, now.” 

You sort of feel bad for Matt, but you also sort of want to rip him a new one. 

Why would Eddie have gone radio silent? 

“I can solve my own problems well enough without your help,” you snipe, returning to the door frame and turning to face him, “And that includes Eddie.” 

Matt quirks an eyebrow, “Who said that Edie was one of your problems?” 

“You did,” you reach to grab the handle of the door, leveling Matt with an annoyed stare, “The moment you made me sign that stupid fucking contract.” 

He doesn’t get another word out before you’re pulling the door shut with a bit more force than might be necessary. Too closely related to being a slam to even consider saving face now. 

Eddie would be proud of your dramatics. Again.

—

Thank the Universe for top level penthouses without neighbors, it seems. 

And thank the Universe for whatever ice pack you’ll be snatching out of Eddie’s freezer for your sore knuckles once he opens this damn door.

“Eddie!” you call out, pounding on the door three more times for good measure, “I swear to God, I’ll stand out here all night. Just open the door.” 

You’re not even sure how long you’ve wasted knocking on the door at this point. Between that and all your incessant calling of Eddie’s name, you have no doubt that someone is going to hear, even from the level’s below. 

The man behind the door should also hear you, but apparently, that’s not happening. 

“Eddie!” you shout again, slapping an open palm against the door this time. 

Or maybe he’s deliberately ignoring you. 

“I…” you huff, ready to curse again, but not even sure where to begin. You take a few steps back from the door and glance down at your now sore palm, scowling as it throbs from the force of your slap. “This is ridiculous.” 

The elevator dings from behind you, causing you to jump as you glance in that direction. You start to sigh in relief as you see Gareth of all people exit the lift, but all the salvation is overridden with confusion. 

“Hey there, Hellfire,” he greets as if it isn’t odd – you with nearly bruising knuckles and hoarse vocal chords, and him… well, him simply being here. “Heard you might be getting some noise complaints.”

You narrow your eyes at him, “What are you doing here?” 

“What? Can’t I come visit my good old friend?” 

“Last time we spoke, you didn’t seem to be good old friends with Eddie anymore.” 

That shuts him up, almost completely cleaning the friendly smirk off his face. 

You stare a few extra seconds at him before deciding to returning back to the actual battle you cared to win as of right now, fist raised to continue banging on the hollow wood, when Gareth’s hand wraps around your wrist. 

“Hold on,” he urges, tugging your hand down, “Listen-”

“The only person I particularly want to talk to right now is Eddie,” you blandly say, tugging mercilessly back at his hold, refusing to look at him.

“And I get that,” he gives you no choice but to look at him as he twists you all the way around. Facing him, you’re shocked to see him holding a key in his freehand, “Which is why Matt sent me.” 

Your mouth falls slightly agape as you stare at the key, “He’s had a fucking key this entire time?” 

Gareth’s head tilts, eyes scrunched ever so slightly, “What?” 

“Four days,” you slowly enunciate, reaching up to gingerly pluck the key from Gareth’s fingers, “Four goddamn days that no one has heard from Eddie, and you’ve had a key to his literal apartment the entire time.”

“We keep it in case of emergencies,” Gareth shrugs, far too nonchalant for your liking, “Besides, we didn’t have anything scheduled, and this is sort of normal for him-”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” your voice cracks a bit in your distress, “I- Jesus fucking Christ, when did this become normal? You idiots couldn’t go more than twenty four hours without speaking in high school. What the Hell happened?” 

Gareth’s face falls gravely serious, “A lot.” 

You take a heaving breath, biting back angry words that the boy before you has done nothing to deserve. It’s not his fault that this has become routine – it’s not his fault that Eddie has made this a part of the regular agenda. 

Or maybe it is. Who’s to say? It’s not as though you’ve been present the last two years to witness what was and wasn’t normal, what was and wasn’t deserved, amongst all of them. 

You spin on your heel as Gareth finally drops his hold on you, shaking as you shove the key into the door’s lock. 

“Listen, before you go in there, I need to warn you-”

“Don’t give me some pep talk as if he might be dead behind this door,” you grit out, pausing just as you feel the click of door unlocking, “Especially after claiming this is normal.” 

“He’s not dead,” Gareth quickly reassures, “At least, I don’t think so. But we stopped using this key after the first few times for a reason. It’s not always a pretty scene.” 

There’s no need for anyone to physically stop you from opening the door now – you don’t even think you’re capable of moving enough muscles to breathe as he says those words. 

It’s not always a pretty scene. 

You had seen all the headlines, hadn’t you? You’d heard first hand from Matt just how far from grace Eddie had fallen. You’d seen the damage done between him and the Corroded Coffin boys with your own two eyes. Just because Eddie had seemingly cleaned up his act when around you, doesn’t erase what he had become. 

Were you prepared to see that? 

Lousy or legendary, it still keeps you up, his words from Sunday night flutter about your mind. It had stunned you where you’d stood to hear him say those words. Not because they were untrue, but because he said them with one meaning and you heard them with an entirely different one. 

Since reentering your life, Eddie Munson has been haunting you, leaving you reckless, with every love letter you discover veiled as a song. 

No doubt, whatever you were about to find behind this door was going to frustrate you. Or send you spiraling. Or absolutely shatter whatever image you had been curating of Eddie in your mind during this rekindlement. But he had never meant for you to see him as anything besides his worst – he’d said as much within his songs and their haunting lyrics. 

I need you to see me for what I have become. 

Words he had written – words meant only for you, but cursed to be shared with the world. 

“I don’t care,” you finally breathe out, twisting the doorknob harshly and pushing hard, leaving no room for second guessing yourself. 

Show me what you’ve become, Eddie. 

[cordidy]

First night with him...

We are not in the realm of puuuuure smut BUT these are adults activities so please, MDNI 🙏

MC is experienced, fluff, a tiny bit of smut ?, goofiness cuteness and flufiness

Not proofread, I needed to get it out of my head ! Oh and english is not my mothertongue so I take any advice and critics

The others are coming too ;)

It was happening ! Finally !!!!

Rafayel had never been that excited in his whole life as he was getting everything ready. After weeks if not MONTHS of pleading, bargaining even BEGGING on his knees ! (which he complained A LOT about after cause they were hurting !) you had finally agreed to indulge him !

You only had 1 single request, a deal breaker of a sort.

"Not the face".

At first he had been puzzled. Never before had he received such an instruction, especially for this, but he had agreed. These were your bondaries and he would NEVER cross them.

The moment you said yes, he had started the preparations. He wanted this moment to be PERFECT. You were his love, his bride, his Muse, you deserved the best experience ever ! Especially for a first...

"Do we really have to do it here ?" you asked, a bit embarassed.

"Of course ! It's the best place for it !" he had answered, installing everything, focused.

Perfect, it had to be perfect.

Soft lights ? checked

Flowers ? checked

Comfy pillows ? checked

"It's just....I was thinking about somewhere more....private...." Not that you were especially shy but still, a beach ?

"Trust me, you won't regret it" he reassured you with a smile.

"But what if people....hum....see us ?"

"Had Thomas privatize the beach for the night" he was clearly not fully with you as he was arranging the scene "besides, look at that moon ! It sooooo much prettier than the studio and you deserve the best. Go on now, strip !"

Thank God the weather was so nice you thought as you laid on the sea of blankets and pillow under Rafayel's loving gaze, entirely naked.

Perfect...

"And now, let me work my magic love...." he said, sitting behind the canvas, grabbing his palette, ready to imortalize you so the whole world could worship you the way you deserved.

While you loved the guffy idiot you were dating, seeing him so serious, so focused as he started to paint was an entire whole thing and you could feel yourself smiling like an idiot cause that man was YOURS.

After 2 hours of posing though, your body started to ache a bit and, based on the frown on Rafayel's face, he was not satisfied.

"Can we take a break ?" you asked him, startling him. He was painting you and yet it felt like he had forgotten your presence enterily as he often did when he was working.

"Hum ? Yeah sure...I could use a break too" he said absently, still focused on the canvas.

Something was off.

The piece was exquisite. Not that you ever doubted him, of course, but you had mainly seen him paint scenery and seeing yourself on the canvas...

"I know I know....I can't put a finger on it it's frustrating !" clearly, he was not satisfied with his work. "Sorry love, I promised you a masterpiece and you get....this...." Surely you were made at him for butchering your image like this... "It's....lacking" he added, frustrated, rubbing his eyes.

"Maybe the issue is not the painter but the model..." you said teasingly, trying to ease the atmosphere before putting your finger in paint and poking his cheek.

You poked him again, this time with another color, and again, and again and before you knew it, the two of you were litteraly fighting to paint the other, laughing like two idiots.

Paint, paint EVERYWHERE.

On the lights.

On the flowers.

On the comfy pillows.

On your two bodies, intertwined under the moonlight as you were making love for the first time on that beach...

He was already painting when you woke up.

Painting you.

The melancholic painting of a woman, waiting for her lover lost at sea, was now replaced by a colorfull one, your body, covered in paint, laying layzily under the sunlight.

Rafayel was smiling this time.

He finally had his masterpiece.

[bangchansgirlsblog]

Ive been imagining this and ik its weird BUT ot8 skz being perv and so obsessed to fem 9th member.. Like they get super jealous and the fem readed being a people pleaser like she cant say no to her friends and cant stand seeing them sad so when the members started to became sexually touchy w her they used that against her and be like "dont u want to see us happy? We've been tired and we just want to relieve some stress.. I thought u can help us.. I guess not" and they pretend to be sad abt it and the reader just felt guilty for not helping her friends so she lets them touch her which led to smut KDNDJFKDJ its weird but idk i die for these kinds of fics

Hands on me?

Warning: Angst, sexual activity, manipulation?

Pairing: polyOT8 x reader.

Summary: Don’t you wanna see us happy baby? They said as they slowly peeled her clothes off.

AUTHORS NOTE: this has been in my requests for a while and I write this when I first started off SO it’s not good at all BUT I’m going to write another one using this same request cause I have another idea AND this was in my drafts for a while so I’m dropping it to clear it.

I hope whoever requested this, enjoys it 🥰

**

"Baby?!" She heard someone call for her from the living room. 

"I'm in here!" She replied. Her hair was up in a pony tail and she was currently wearing shorts and a croptop with no bra on making her look yummy.

She heard a bunch of voices start piling up in the living room meaning that the boys were back home.

A small smile creeped up on her face as she continued to wash up the dishes she had used to cook dinner. She made a big dinner because at the end of the day she was feeding 8 of her boyfriends who were also MEN. 

"Hey love," Han walked into the kitchen. His hair was in a hat and he had his normal hoodie and cargo pants on. "Are you feelings better?" He asked while taking a few steps towards her until he towering her. His breathing was heavy probably from the flight of stairs.

"Mmm, yeah. Just been a long day that's all." She sighed and looked up at him. He had a pout on his face making her coo at how adorable the boy was.

"I missed you," he said in between kisses. 

"Missed you too momo," he rested his head on her shoulder she continued to finish the dishes.Han was always clingy, not more than Felix but it was more than the other boys, that was for sure.

As she finished up she felt His hands slowly wondering around her body then slowly landing on her ass. oh, makes sense. He was horny.

She did love every interaction with her boys, she really did but today she wasn't in the mood at all. She was tired and she had a horrible headache from work. having sex was not on her to-do list but a nap was.

"Do you want me to take care of you?" He whispered in her ear causing shivers to run down her spine. She was sad because she was going to turn him down and she knew how stressed all the boys were, he just wanted have fun.

"Maybe not right now momo, I'm not in the mood," She told him while finishing the last of the dishes and drying her hands. He pouts and lets out a small whimper.

"Have you eaten yet?" She asked him changing the subject.

"Not yet no," he frowned.

"Okay then sit, let me call the other guys to come eat too," She encourage him, "and don't forget to put your dirty clothes in the laundry basket," She tiptoed and gave him a quick kiss before going to the living room to find only Changbin sat while scrolling through his phone.

He was wearing all black and he had his glasses on. His hair was fluffy and curly meaning today he was in the studio all day.

"Binnie?" She walked and sat by him, "what are you doing?"

"Hey baby," he kisses her temple and then her lips, "I was just lacing up my shoes, what about you? How was your day?"

"I'm tired that's all," she pouted, "and my period is coming soon so I'm breaking out!" she exclaimed and crossed her arms causing him to chuckle.

"I mean atleast you look nice," he dropped his shoe and pulled her close to his body, "you look beautiful, pretty, gorgeous, amazing-"

"Okay, okay I get the point," she roll my eyes playfully.

"Hey? Am I not allowed to praise my beautiful girlfriend?" He playfully frowns.

"You are I geuss," she giggled and he couldnt help but pull her onto his lap.

"Then let me praise you huh?" He kisses her cheek and slowly starts moving down her neck. A small moan leaves her mouth.

"B-Binnie, I'm not in the mood, please," she told him.

"Why not? You're always in the mood," he looks confused.

"Not today, just come have lunch yeah?" she give him a peck on the lips and got off him so he could stand up.

"Fine," he huffs. He makes his way to the dining area as she depart6ed and headed to Felix's room

"Felix?" she called while knocking on his door.

"It's open!"

"Hey sunshine, dinner is ready-"

"Hey! no kisses? No hugs?" He frowned and turned around from his desk.

"Oh-" she giggled when she realized and then walked over to him, "Hey lix," she repeated and  gave him a kiss as he automatically pulled her on his lap.

"How's my baby doing?" He asked as his hands wrapped around her waist and he cuddled her body.

"Mm just tired," she sighed.

"Oh my poor baby, should we watch a movie later?" He was craving her. he wanted to spend more time with her because he felt like he had spent so much time with the boys that he was neglecting her.

"Yeah that would be nice but first go get lunch," she forced herself out of his grip but he let out a soft whine due to the lack of touch and well...the bulge that was now very visible through his pants.

"Look what you've done to me," he whined again causing her to laugh at his distraught state.

"Oh oh, you better fix that before you go down,"

"Help me please!" He frowned.

"I'm not in the mood Felix, please."

"Come on pleaseee, it's been a long day. Don't you want to see me happy?"

His eyes were shiny and hungry, it was obvious.

"Fine after dinner," she lied to him so he could get up and he actually believed it.

"Okay okay, I'm running there now!"

He got up from his sit and rushed out the room.

She followed behind him and checked the dining room to see everyone now sitting down including Chan, I.N, Seungmin and leeknow.

She went around to give them quick kisses before returning to her room and changed into just a  huge shirt (that was probably for one of the boys) and underwear.

She turned off all her room lights and entered bed now being able to have a peaceful sleep. A nice, nice qui-

She felt the bed dip and hands wrap around her body. Her eyes open quickly and she saw familiar hands. Chan.

"Channie?"

"Hey babe, I wanted to cuddles," he pouted.

"Fine but no disturbing my sleep," she scolded him and turned so it was easier for him to wrap his arms around her waist.

Her eyes slowly closed once again and she finally thought she was to get some sleep until the door swung wide open and closed quickly, two more people walking in and making themselves comfortable in her bed. Han and I.N. At this point she was so used to it that she just let them stay as they both argued on who was sleeping where.

"Guys if you're going to be in here, you have to be quiet and sleep," She told all of them off. Even if she was getting a little frustrated she scooted up a little so they could all enter the bed.

Not even a few minutes later all the boys were now in her room on her bed piling onto one another under her fluffy blankets. She knew exactly what they wanted when she felt one of their hands massaging her leg.

She let out a sigh, "Such horny dogs!" she groaned.

"Common baby, it's been a long day. Don't you care about us?" Hyunjin teased her in a manipulative manner.

"Just a little fun. Come on please," Han rubbed her leg once more back and forth causing shivered to run down her spine.

"You look good too," Felix complimented her while tugging at her bra strap, "really good." They were basically already peeling her clothes off with their cold ass hands.

She let out a sigh and finally gave in, "F-fine I geuss so," her eyes wonder to Chan who gives her an assuring nod.

//please idk how to write a smut but just imagine the nastiest thing ever happens//

When they were done and the boys were satisfied as Y/n sat on the bed. Her heart was racing from all the action but she was in her own space. Spaced out.

The constant thoughts of the boys using her for their sexual desires made her enter a depressive episode. Yes she enjoyed the sex and the attention but so many emotions were running through her tiny body that she couldn't handle it anymore.

She felt used like a sex toy and the tears in her eyes slowly started to build as she started to breath rapidly. The air in the room getting suddenly thick. Seungmin was in the bathroom running her bath for her after care. The sound of the water falling was the only sort of noise she could hear.

She held her knees against her chest as she tried to calm down. Han's hand wrapped around her waist. As he kissed her temple. "you did so good for us, you know that right babygirl?" he praised but she didnt even notice him in the first place. Her eyes were hazy and completely black and when Han noticed, he gave chan a look. 

"Hey, are you with us?" Chan asked immediately as he pulled up his sweatpants. "Y/n?"

No response.

She was staring at the wall right in-front of her. She felt unloved. She felt tired. She was in pain.

The boys (some of them were still dressing up) all turned to look at her. Her body was still bare and the bruises on her arms were visible.

"Is she going into a trance?" I.N asked panicked. "Chan do something, please,"

"Hey Y/n? Babygirl? It me. Can you hear me?" He walked over to her and grabbed her tiny hands.

"C-channie?" She chocked as She looked up at him. The tears slowly starting to fall.

"Yes my love, it's me. Can you tell me where you are?"

"I'm alone, I'm all alone," she sobbed. "Why am I like this? Why am I so disgusting?" She cried.

"What do you mean Y/n?" He asked shocked.

"I-I want Binnie, I want Binnie now," she said reaching out for him. Changbin did not hesitate. He was right by her side pulling her onto his lap. The rest of the boys understanding what was going on and quickly taking action.

"I'm here princesses, tell me what's wrong," he had no shirt on and the skin to skin was slowly giving her comfort as his body heat was radiating warmth.

"I-do you love me?" She asked. The panic in her voice was clear. She was soon going to get a panic attack. it was building up.

"Ofcourse I love you babydoll, why would you think otherwise?" He questioned while kissing her forehead.

"i- i dont know, please dont be mad at me," She sobbed in his chest. The view was heartbreaking and the boys knew that if they didnt find a way to cheer her up soon it would end up into a full blown panic attack.

"I'm going to make some brownies for her," Felix said because he knew this was the only way he could comfort her on his part. He quickly leaves the room after hesitating for a bit not wanting to leave her.

"I- are you guys using me? For sex?" She cried harder. Her hands held Changbins chest as She struggled to breathe. Their faces were in absolute shock. was this what they made her think? was this all she thought she was to them? 

"Ofcourse not," leeknow knelt down infront of her. He slowly rubbed her thigh. "Jagi, you need to breathe. Can you do that for me?" He asked her. Her body was shaking still. she tried to gasp for air but failed. 

"Listen to me beuatiful, you need to breathe like me....see," he took a deep breathe to demonstrate to her but it was no use. 

"i- i cant breathe," she gasped and let go of changbin to grab her neck. it felt like it was closing up. Her vision was blurry now and the lack of oxygen was getting to her. 

"C-chan?" she gasped as she slowly she started to pass out. Her body giving up on her due to the many emotions.

"come on baby, stay with me," she heard in the distance.

"Guys! call 119,"

***

This is just a fic no one come for me 😔

[daceydeath]

I Want to Watch (Part 2)

Pairing: Wooyoung x reader x Jongho

Word Count: 2.5K

Genre: Pure Smut 🔞

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Explicit Activities

Wooyoung's brilliant idea has played on his mind even more since San maybe you would be up for more than just that one time...

Wooyoung had been insatiable for the entire fortnight after your night with San, wanting you in every possible way until you just about couldn’t sit down properly you were fucked so raw. It also had unlocked a whole new list of things he wanted to try, well things he wanted you to try with different members. To begin with you had just taken it as just talk as a way for him to let out every fantasy that he could come up with but when he had decided what he wanted to try next there was not much you could do to dissuade him. Even though you didn’t really want to after all you had, had fun with San and you wouldn’t mind in the slightest to do it again.

“Baby, I have an idea I think you will like” Wooyoung started smiling like the Cheshire cat as he wandered out of his bedroom with his phone in his hands. You had been sitting on the couch in one of his shirts and your underwear reading since he had told you that Jongho was out for the whole night and Hongjoong was in the studio and therefore not coming home until at least 3am.

“Uhuh and what would that be?” You rolled your eyes playfully knowing that the pair of you being alone in the dorm meant only one thing.

“I know I sprung the whole San thing on you and I know you loved it but I thought maybe you might want to do it again but we would talk about it first” he smirked knowing you were going to leap at the chance if you were given it.

“Ok” you furrowed your brows “Why would we need to talk about it? San and I have already fucked once”. Kneeling before you he spread your legs slotting himself between them and rubbing his hands teasingly up your thighs, his fingers dancing along the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs giving you goosebumps. 

“Well there were some rules that San broke that I wanted to talk to you about, also perhaps how you would feel about another member joining us” He murmured, placing a kiss on your clothed stomach.

“What rules did you have, Wooyo?” you hummed, closing your eyes as he continued his ministrations.

“No one is to taste you, that is just mine” he continued “and I will also decide what you are doing with who after you have agreed of course”.

“That’s fine” you purred as his hands crept up under his shirt “whatever you want”. You couldn’t help leaning back into the couch spreading your thighs even wider for him.

“I want to watch you suck Jongho’s dick, want to watch him fuck you from behind” he admitted leaning forward to press a kiss to you covered core. “Will you do that for me baby, will you let him fuck you?” 

“Yes” you whined letting him nuzzle his face against your cover core, your fingers threading into his hair as he continued to tease you, chuckling darkly as he felt your wetness beginning to soak through the flimsy fabric.

“Good because he will be home and minute now and he was as enthusiastic as San was” he mumbled against you one of his fingers hooking under the fabric to pull it aside exposing your slick folds to the warmth of his breath. Licking a long lazy stipe through your fold you let your head drop back against the pillows enjoying the feeling of his perfect tongue on you. Sucking your clit between his lips you moaned softly hearing the front door open.

“Well that's a very nice welcome home” Jongho’s honeyed voice filled your ears making your eyes pop open to look at him.

“Thought I should get her ready for you” Wooyoung grinned smugly, pulling away from you his lips shining with your arousal.

“That’s why you are my favorite hyung” Jongho replied, his eyes glued to your exposed slit.

“I’m going to always be your favorite after I let you fuck my girl” Wooyoung laughed getting up from the floor and pulling you forward so he could pull his shirt up over your head to leave you in just your underwear.

“Fuck” Jongho whispered stepping towards you his eyes trailing over your breasts hungrily “So I can kiss her, fuck her and finger her I just can’t taste her?”

“Yep” Wooyoung agreed instantly, looking almost predatory as he sat on the armchair to your right watchin closely as Jongho continued to move closer to you. 

“Can I?” Jongho breathed softly, his eyes finally meeting yours, asking if you would actually let him do what Wooyoung had told him he could do.

“Please Jjongie” you swallowed hard feeling how much slick was pooling between your legs at this point. “I wanna make you feel good”.

Jongho pulled you to your feet gently, his hands almost shaking as he moved to grab your hips before slowly brushing them up your sides to your waist before closing the distance and pressing his lips to yours. His lips were so tentative as he continued to move them against yours, you sighed quietly running your tongue along his bottom lip to encourage him while pulling him in further by his shoulders one hand fisting in his hoodie that he was still wearing. Feeling your enthusiasm Jongho pressed you against him, letting his tongue invade your mouth to suck on your own while you slipped one hand down to squeeze his half hard length.

“Shit, how do you want to do this on your knees or sitting?” he gasped against your lips.

“Sit down, she can show you how good her throat is, can’t you baby? be his perfect little whore” Wooyoung cooed as you couldn’t stop the whine coming from your lips. Jongho sat watching you intensely as you sank to your knees where Wooyoung had been before. You gently ran your fingernails up his thighs leaning forward to grab the zipper between your teeth wiggling your arse as you did to make sure Wooyoung was enjoying the view as much as Jongho was going to enjoy your mouth. Freeing him from his pants you couldn’t help how your eyes widened in surprise at the thick heavy cock that sprang up against the fabric of his clothes, it was almost as pretty as your boyfriends straight, veiny and leaking as your grasped it to lazily stroke it a few times before licking a teasingly slow stripe from his balls to the blushing pink tip. Circling the tip a few times with your tongue you allowed your saliva to pool in your mouth before letting it begin to drip down the hard flesh, Jongho’s breathing was coming out in shallow puffs as you finally looked up to meet his eyes through your lashes and sank your lips down around him as far as you could.

“Oh Fuck” Jongho groaned one hand carding into your hair to cup your head.

“Such a good girl baby. Go on, swallow his whole cock baby” Wooyoung playfully encouraged your desperation.

Working your hand in time with your mouth you worked on relaxing your throat and jaw so you could take as much of his length into you without gagging each bob of your head causing more of your spit to leak from the corners of your mouth. Holding your head Jongho because to carefully thrust his hips his breath coming out in heavy pants now as you swallowed as much as you could of him. 

“So eager to swallow Jongho’s dick, acting like I don’t give you mine” Wooyoung groaned while Jongho began loudly groaning as you hummed around his cock.

“Such a heavenly mouth” he groaned rolling his hips harder and forcing you further onto his length you were almost at your limit your lips stretched around his fat cock the tips bumping the back of your throat with each movement swallowing around him you felt Jongho start to lose his composure forcing your head lower until he was actually fucking into your mouth. Choking slightly you gurgled around him trying to remember to breathe through your nose as he held you still and fucked himself as far as he could into your throat maoning as your throat restricted him with every slight gag tears running down your cheeks.

“Do you want Jongho to cum down your throat baby? Going to drink it all down?” Wooyoung mocked, smirking as you whined pathetically as Jongho continued to use your throat as his own personal cocksleeve. You felt him begin to swell on your tongue, his cock twitching as he got closer and closer to his high.

“Ahh…shit..”Jongho called loudly forcing his cock as far into your mouth as he could your nose brushing his pubic bone as he released thick ropes of hot cum into your throat and mouth as you desperately swallowed so you wouldn’t waste any. Jongho pulled himself from your swollen lips wiping your tears with his thumbs while you licked the last of his seed from your lips, opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue to show him you had swallowed most of it.

“You are incredible” Jongho panted, his voice strained as you preened under his praise.

“Don’t forget your manners baby” Wooyoung scolded half heartedly, his eyebrows raised as he looked at you seriously.

“Thankyou Jjongie” you whispered roughly as you swallowed again trying to clear your throat.

“Come here” Jongho grinned, pulling you off the ground and swinging you over his shoulder taking you to Wooyoung’s room.

“Undress Jongho” Wooyoung ordered making himself comfortable at the end of the bed, stripping himself of most of his clothes.

You helped Jongho pull his hoodie and shirt over his head, dropping it beside you as you worked on shimmying his jeans and boxers down his legs. You had never really seen Jongho without clothes and you couldn’t help but stare at his toned chest and perfect thighs when they were finally exposed to you. He kissed you against his hands groping and squeezing your flesh as his tongue once again plundered your mouth licking into it as you whined against him feeling his hardness against you. Backing you up to the bed, Jongho lowered you to the mattress, kissing his way down your neck to your breasts, pinching and teasing each of your nipples until they were puffy and red before lapping at them with his tongue.

“Please Jongho, more” you whimpered arching into him as he sucked light marks all over both the mounds of flesh, pushing your underwear aside he moaned against your skin as he felt how dripping wet your folds were allowing him to easily push one finger inside you pumping it a few times before adding a second and then a third opening you up ready for him. Fucking you with his fingers the obscene squelch that filled the room made your cheeks flush with embarrassment about how easy it was for Jongho to get you needy for him. Your walls started to tighten, quivering around his digits as you quickly began to feel your orgasm approaching you hips bucking against his hand. Jongho moved back to your face, kissing you deeply as you mewled, arching and rolling your hips until you felt yourself fall over the edge.

“Jongho...ngh…Oh god” you cried, your nectar flooding around his fingers and dripping onto his palm.

“Fuck, you didn’t tell me she squirts” Jongho ground out his eyes watching your hole clenching around his fingers rapidly.

“My girl is a good girl, she loves to squirt on the nice boys who fuck her properly” Wooyoung purred as Jongho slipped his fingers from you giving them to you to suck clean, you licked and suckled them until he was satisfied letting them go with a lewd pop and he manhandled you onto your knees at the edge of the bed. “Be as rough as you want, she won’t break”.

Jongho dragged his leaking cock head against your folds, pressing it against your clit making you jolt, both he and Wooyoung laugh before he sheathed himself completely inside you, bottoming out with a long moan. Even with the prep you could feel him splitting you in half his thick cock stretching your walls almost painfully as he gave you a moment to adjust. Gripping your hips bruisingly he because snapping his hips against your arse rapidly each thrust forcing you forward before he dragged you back against him in a brutal pace bouncing you against him until he pushed your face down towards the bed letting him push even deeper inside you until his cock was almost kissing your cervix. 

“Ah..Ah…Jjongie” You pleaded, bunching the sheets uselessly between your fingers trying to ground yourself.

“Is Jongho fucking you properly baby? Just like Sannie? Wootoung teased making you turn your head towards him, finding him idly stroking himself as he watched Jongho’s cock split you open. 

“Fuck can I cum inside her or not?” Jongho strained not slowing his pace as he partially draped himself over you to kiss between your shoulder blades hitting the gummy spot within your walls the made you see stars.

“Yes Jjongie… fuck please fill me up” you begged between harsh breaths and loud cries.

“Yeah Jongho fuck her full, you would love that wouldn’t you being filled with another man’s cum again?” Wooyoung rasped so deeply you moaned clenching around Jongho, feeling him falter in his pace, his cock twitching inside you. Slipping his arm around your waist he pressed his fingers against your clit rubbing a few tight circles to get you clenching him again.

“Jongho…Jongho” you chanted as you felt fire reignite in your veins and your vision turn white, you would have collapsed completely into the sheets hand Jongho not been holding your hips so tightly as you spasmed around him your walls continuing to flutter as he fucked you through your orgasm trying to milk him of his release. A few thrusts later Jongho stilled inside you the warmth of his cum spreading through your core as he filled you so full it began to leak out around the base of his dick.

“Fuck, you are such a goddess for me” Wooyoung praised leaning forward to sweep your sweaty hair out of your face.

“I second that” Jongho panted, his cock still inside you even though it was starting to soften.

“Can you lay her on the bed?” Wooyoung asked moving towards the bathroom to get a washcloth to clean you up with. Jongho carefully maneuvered you onto your back before lifting you again and laying you in the middle of Wooyoung’s bed stroking your hair and cheeks as you smiled up at him.   

“Thank you Jjongie” you whispered, reaching out to pull him down towards you.

“I should go clean up and let hyung take care of you” he smiled shyly as though he hadn’t just tried to fuck your soul out of you.

“I forgot to mention that she gets super clingy afterwards, it took a full hour before she would let go of San Wooyoung, sniggered as he returned holding the warm cloth and carefully wiping your swollen and used folds.

“I guess a little while won’t hurt, but I’m only doing this for her not you hyung” Jongho smiled his usual gummy smile pulling the sheets up over the pair of you and letting you burrow into the side of his chest.

A/N: Thank you for reading my loveliest loves, all your likes, reblogs and comments continue to encourage me to keep writing xx

Taglist (open): @christopher-bangnaldoskzz @armystay89 @damnyouficc @roamingpolar

@tara-skyhold @bakedlilgoonie @krishastumblernow @mrsseals16 @fawnpeaks

@leeknowinggg @tanzen-ist-gold @taz-97 @ocean-dreamer-sky-chaser @everythingboutkpop

[bad-and-drawn-that-way]

can I request a Vox x reader fluff where they've both been struggling to come to terms with their feelings but when something (you can decide what) happens and the reader gets hurt really badly, he confesses

ANOOOOOOOOON!! YOU. GET ME. SO GOOD. HOW DARE YOU HIT ME UP WITH ONE OF MY FAVORITE TROPES?? Literally, give this trope to me as many times as yall want. I'll find a million ways to write it. Reap the repercussions and enjoy the food you beautiful homie, you!

Star-Crossed Idiots [Vox x Reader]

Vox refused to believe it.

Velvette had been the one to call him out on his shit first. Unlike him, she had a semblance of emotional maturity that meant she was perceptive to shit that flew over his head entirely. While he didn't understand why he found himself going out of his way to spend time with you, Velvette figured it out in a matter of days. The very fact that he had kept his involvement with you a secret was suspicious in itself. Not to mention, Velvette realized before he did. When she discovered his feelings for you, she found it hilarious. And a touch pathetic.

"I mean really Vox, you have zero reason to even know them," Velvette scoffed as she sipped on the frappuccino he had used to buy her silence. Things were already messy enough with Valentino. He had no intention of the pissy moth hearing of this until whatever this was, was sorted.

"Yet you constantly check in on their phone activity, go out of your way to run into them on the streets, and now they're even working for you just because your needy ass wanted an excuse to see them on the regular," Velvette listed as Vox did everything in his power to avoid eye contact.

Vox buried his face in his hands and groaned while Velvette rolled her eyes. "Wouldn't it just be easier to ask them out at this point? I love you, darling, but you're making this so much more complicated than it needs to be."

"No," Vox growled as he looked up and shot her a warning glare. "Do you have any idea how much shit we'd be in if I just started dating some random sinner? And that's only if the feelings were mutual."

He ran his hand down his screen with a huff, turning to look at Vark swimming up to the glass. While Vox had originally had the aquarium extend to the meeting rooms for a sense of looming intimidation, he'd found quite a bit of comfort in his sharks being able to follow him through the tower.

"Look, for all we know, I'm just pent up," Vox tried to reason. It sounded fake, even to his own ears, but he was in denial. There was too much bullshit he'd have to face if he really was as whipped for you as he feared. "It's been a shit couple of weeks. I probably just need a break and a good fuck and this will all be something you make fun of me about next week for ever entertaining in the first place."

Velvette shook her head, sighing as she pulled out her phone and started to scroll.

"Whatever you say."

---

You refused to believe it.

There was no way you fell for Vox of all people. For starters, you told yourself you'd never love again! Every time you'd tried, disaster followed. It didn't help that any potential match was one to be made in Hell. Granted, you knew not everyone in Hell was bad. There were a lot of sinners who you firmly believed belonged in Heaven or some sort of equivalent.

But even so... Vox was definitely not one of those people. Not that that was the important part or truly mattered. You were no saint either, you were also in Hell.

"I don't see what the big deal is toots," Angel Dust sighed as he watched you give Fat Nuggets attention to keep your hands busy through the stress. "There are worse people to have a crush on."

"There's better too," you whined. "I'd rather not have a crush at all," you muttered bitterly as your hand continued the soothing action of petting the teacup pig.

You'd originally been on the production team for one of Valentino's studios. That was how you befriended Angel Dust and why Vox scooped you out from under Valentino to work on his own set. He told you it was because he valued someone who had an ear for audio balance, but Angel said he'd only offered you the new job after the overlord walked in on the cameraman flirting with you right before.

"Why not just fuck the guy and see if it's a matter of heart or a matter of-"

You laughed as you covered Angel's mouth with one of your hands. "Okay, okay! Don't... finish that sentence. I won't let you taint poor little Fat Nuggets ears with your porn language."

Angel snickered as you pulled back your hand. "But you see my point, right?"

"I do," you sighed. "But that's... not really my style. If anything, I think it'd just hurt to see him after something like a casual fling. The idea of him wanting my body, but not me? Yeah no. I'll choose the healthier option of repressing my feelings, thank you very much."

"I'm telling ya, he's into you," Angel groaned. "I've seen the way he is with people he thinks are hot. I've seen him with Val. You're different, toots."

You smile sadly at Angel and put Fat Nuggets down on the bed. It was clear you didn't believe Angel and he was on the verge of ripping out his fur because of it. The two of you were so unbelievably oblivious it was gonna kill him again. "Thanks, Angie but... it's okay. Really, it is."

He sighed and eventually let it go. The two of you talked about other things for a while before Charlie peeked into his room to ask for your help on something. Once you were gone, he rolled over the conversation in his mind as he tried to think of ways to get the ball rolling on your love life.

Angel shook his head with a sigh and pulled out his phone. He scooped up Fat Nuggets and flopped back in his bed as the dialing sound filled the room. The line connected, and he was quick to the point.

"Hey, I know we don't really talk, but I've got an idea."

---

"Really Angie, I don't think this was necessary," You grumbled as you tugged down on the all-too-short skirt of the outfit he'd squeezed you into.

"Oh, but it was and it is," Angel grinned as he took your hand and twirled you in the entry hall to the club. You rolled your eyes and let him spin you in jest. He'd asked you to come with him to one of your old coworkers' birthday parties.

Apparently, one of the rules was to dress like you'd get hired to dance at the club. At least, that had been Angel's excuse when you questioned why he was hovering over you as he did your hair, and makeup and held up several outfits to your body that you doubted would fit.

Despite the discomfort of getting all dolled up, you were happy he'd invited you. It had been a while since you saw your old friends. That being said, it would have been more fun if you weren't tugging down your skirt every two minutes. You weren't the only one hyperaware of how much of your skin was exposed. Nor of the way the fabric hugged your frame tightly. Several of your old friends had suggested you return to the studio with a job in front of the camera instead of in the shadows of the set.

You'd been having a good time, sticking to the corner of the room with some of your old friends to watch the drinks while the rest were out on the dance floor. One of the drunker sinners of the bunch accidentally knocked over some of the drinks while she'd been telling a story about the recent cam show she did. You volunteered to go get more napkins from the bar. One of your friends came with you to reorder the ruined drinks and the two of you had nearly pushed your way through the crowd when you heard a familiar voice call your name through the noise.

Vox didn't have to fight through the crowd the way you had. The second sinners saw the glow of his screen, they were quick to move out of his path. Your friend touched your arm, pulling your attention away from the approaching overlord. They winked at you and told you they had the drink issue handled.

When you turned, you caught Vox's screen flickering from pink to his usual blue. You had never seen any color other than the "You don't get to sleep" blue light, so you assumed it was just a trick of the flashing dance lights above.

"I didn't think you'd be here," you say to break the tension. This wasn't the first time you'd seen him in casual wear, nor was it the first time you'd seen Vox since realizing you had feelings for him. Even so, your heart was beating hard just from the sight of him.

"A-Ah yeah, well," Vox stammered as the music blared through the busy room. "Velvette wanted to drop by. She said something about wanting to check the place out as a potential venue for an upcoming show."

"Just the two of you?" you ask, perking up slightly.

"It was supposed to be," Vox chuckled dryly. His grin was tired and forced as he looked to the side and scanned the room. "Valentino heard we were coming here and tagged along. I don't know why, but Velvette got really heated about it. Something about him fucking up her plans..."

"Oh," your shoulders drop. You cringe internally, wishing you could take back the bitterness in your voice. You hoped it wasn't too obvious, but the way Vox was looking at you like you were some sort of a puzzle told you everything you needed to know.

You actually loved Velevette. She was sassy and cutthroat but had a kind side to her as well. Valentino however... He'd been the source of a lot of suffering for the people you cared about. While the more obvious examples of Angel Dust returning to the hotel looking like shit came to mind, so did the times you had to comfort Vox after being yanked this way and that by the moth emotionally.

That was actually how you'd realized you'd come to care for him as deeply as you do. He'd been standing alone in one of the meeting rooms with a distant look on his face. When you found him and asked him if he was okay, he tried to play it off with his usual bravado, but couldn't. He never cried in front of you, he only vented his frustrations about Valentino and you listened. You sympathized. And eventually, you found yourself wishing you could be the one to treat him better.

Vox opened his mouth to say something, only for Valentino to slip his arm around his shoulder, appearing out of nowhere from the crowd.

"There you are baby," he purred, his fingers immediately slipping under the collar of Vox's vest. You resisted the urge to gag as Valentino took a long puff from his pipe and blew the majority of the smoke in your direction.

"I was wondering where you up and fucked off to," Valentino grinned as he leaned down to nip drunkenly at Vox's shoulder. "You left me all alone with our little fashionista, "Valentino scoffed. "She's in such a bitchy mood."

If it wasn't bad enough that Valentino was practically drooling all over Vox in front of you and pretending you weren't there, insult was only added to injury when Valentino grinned at you with sharp teeth when he called Velvette bitchy.

"Come back and unwind with me," Valentino hummed as he started to kiss up Vox's neck. "Some of my best toys are here tonight. Don't you want to play?"

If Vox had any doubt he was in Hell before, he had every reason to confirm the fact at this moment. He'd fallen out of love with Valentino, but the almost... the almost killed him. To make it worse, he was completely frozen, letting it all happen in front of you. He made no moves to stop Valentino, he made no moves to reciprocate. He simply froze.

Unable to watch any longer as Vox continued to fall for the very same game of tug-o-war he told you he was done with, you bite your lip and turn on your heel. You can't tell if you heard Vox say your name or if it was just a trick of the crowd.

"Anyone else gonna drink this?" You asked as you rejoined your friends still at the table and pointed to one of the more full glasses left on the table. When your friends who were sober enough to answer said you could go for it, you tossed it back in one shot.

You griped to one of your friends who had stayed behind to watch over those too drunk to make good choices. The two of you had been having a damn good venting session about how stupid you felt your feelings were when the entire bar swayed. Your words slurred as your body grew heavy.

One second you were sitting up, wondering why your friend looked so concerned. The next second there was a sharp pain against the temple of your forehead, followed by a heavy thunk, more pain, and darkness.

---

Vox had been desperately searching the dance floor for any sign of you. He'd torn away from Valentino and the moth hadn't bothered to follow. Vox would... handle that another time. For as much as he denied his feelings for you this morning, the second he saw the hurt look in your eyes he knew he had to tell you. There was no way he could ignore the sharp lurch in his chest at the sight of you.

He didn't know what it meant. He couldn't tell if it was just a sense of betrayal after he'd been so open with you about Valentino or if it was something more. Every time he found himself wanting to talk about his true feelings on anything, he wanted to talk to you. Every time he had a rare second alone in the middle of the night, the only touch he craved was yours. Yes, he had a history with Valentino, but he didn't actively want that. He wanted you.

He finally spotted you across the room, sitting at a table with one of the whores he'd seen at Valentino's studio and getting way too close to them for his liking. He made his way through the drunken idiots who were too far gone to notice him, keeping his eyes on you as you started swaying dangerously.

You tried to reach down for something on the table and Vox swore as you lost what little balance you had and fell over. Someone got in his way so he didn't see the impact, but somehow he heard it. Through all the noise he heard the sharp thud and the panicked swearing of the person you were with after.

Vox was suddenly shoving every idiot out of his way, ignoring their shouts as he ran into the small clearing and found you on the ground with blood seeping from your head. He was immediately on his knees, scooping you up as the sinner who'd been with you started freaking out.

The only thing Vox could hear was a high-pitched whine as he pulled you to him and tried to frantically find where you were bleeding from. Half of your head was dripping with blood and he vaguely registered your friend saying your head had hit the edge of the table.

"Just s̴̢̃ḧ̸̺u̸͇͋t̷̯͂ ̷̬̂u̶͖̓p̵̳͗!̶̳͌," Vox snapped as he whipped up and affixed the sinner with a violent glare. He didn't care that half the club was looking at him. For once, he didn't care that he'd made a scene. Logically, he knew something like this couldn't kill you, you were all already dead. But his hands were shaking violently and the buzzing in his head was getting louder because you weren't moving.

Everything around him flashed with bright blue light as he held you close and teleported out of the club without even thinking about it. The two of you reappeared in his room back at the tower and he let out a shaky breath as he placed you down on his bed.

Not knowing what to do, Vox quickly crossed the room and threw his bathroom door open as he searched for anything he could use to stop the bleeding. He was muttering furiously as he nearly ripped the hinges off the cupboard under the sink looking for anything he could use.

Vox let out a loud, angry shout as his body kept glitching. His movements were jerky and he'd hit his head on the sink twice now. Just as he was about to have an absolute meltdown, he heard you groan from his bedroom. His head snapped up and he turned around at the sound of your voice so fast he was surprised he didn't snap his own neck.

Vox yanked a towel off of the wall and scrambled across the nylon tiles as he fell into his room with all the grace of a CEO that he clearly had. He swore, picking himself up and coming over to you as you sat up and clutched your head.

"Shit, that stuff was stronger than I thought," you groaned. "Note to self, don't just chug random alcohol at the club." you tried to laugh, only to hiss as the pain in your head doubled down due to the movement.

"You're a fucking idiot," Vox sighed as he sat down next to you and lifted the towel to your head.

You flinched at the contact, and Vox grabbed your wrist with his free hand. "Stay still," he frowned, pressing again on the wound. "You're still bleeding."

Trying not to do more damage, you stay as still as possible while he tries to stop the bleeding. The silence is heavy between the two of you before you mumble quietly.

"Sorry..."

Vox blinks, frowning down at you. "For what?"

You avoid eye contact the best you can given your current condition and fist your hands on your thighs nervously. "For acting like an idiot. You've told me about how hard it is with Valentino. I should've said or done something and not have gotten..."

"Upset?" Vox finished for you quietly. You flinched, unable to read the tone in his voice. He sighed and slowly lifted the towel from your head, before lowering it. "Why did you?"

"It's stupid," you bite your lip, hand drifting up curiously to see how bad the wound is. Before your fingers could brush against your hair, Vox's hand grabbed your wrists again.

"Try me."

You couldn't say if it was due to the pain, blood loss, or alcohol in your system, but the moment you finally gathered the courage to look him in the eye, you said fuck it. Vox gasped as you surged forward and pressed your lips against his. He'd barely had a chance to process the feeling before you were already turned away from him and rambling some bullshit about how you knew he didn't feel the same.

He took your hand, ignoring the anxious nonsense flowing from your mouth, and lifted it to his lips. Your speech died on your tongue as his lips pressed against the palm of your hand.

"Do you have any idea how much you've been on my mind?" He growled softly, his lips trailing up your arm slowly as he practically worshiped your skin.

If it wasn't for the fact that your blood was still on his hands, Vox would have been so much more rough with you. He would have grabbed you and crashed his lips against yours. He would have torn the fabric that hugged your curves so tightly off of your body and shown you just how badly he'd been needing you.

Instead, he made do with tracing his claw under your chin and guiding you to face him properly. His eyes searched yours for any doubt or sign that you'd acted purely on adrenaline and not something more. When your breath hitched and your cheeks flushed, he knew. As he leaned down and pressed his lips against yours, as his arms snaked down and pulled you flush against him like you'd break, as your fingers found a home in his vest he knew.

You wanted him too. You fell for him too. This wasn't a game of "do they, don't they" like the one he'd played with Valentino for so fucking long.

His breath hitched, his arms tightening around you before he slowly pulled back and laughed breathlessly.

"Does this mean we're dating?" you ask, smiling at him like he'd hung the stars in the sky.

"God that sounds cheesy," Vox grimaced. The phrase felt so... high school bullshit. But it wasn't wrong. He wanted that. He really wanted that with you.

He reached down, hesitating before his clawed hand gently covered yours. "But yeah... I guess it does," he smiled softer than you'd ever seen before.

[py-dreamer]

...um...hi?

so if anyone's concerned, no I'm not dead.

Thankfully the digital studio is intact this year (thank god I would've had another mental breakdown istg-)

to all my lovely marshiemallows, thank y'all so much for your patience omg!!!!

(and to all my mutuals, @furornocturna and @violetjedisylveon in particular I'm so sorry I haven't been responding or active online at all, I'm so sorry-)

But to sum it up:

I'm on holiday in my home country rn and have been having a blast personally. Meeting relatives, childhood friends, the food, familiar places ect.

and I'll admit I do have a lot of free time outside that but honestly I do feel a wee bit burnt out ngl.

And with my spare time, I've jumped down the demon slayer rabbit hole

(huh who would've guessed)

Basically it's all been a huge break for me.

But I will still post lmk stuff dw. Though don't be surprised if you see a kny thingy pop up somewhere in the dreamscape!!

And for those curious about the fic:

I'm sorry I haven't updated at all, the wips are still in my drafts. I have no formal posting schedule but after returning and getting some work sorted out I'll see what I can do! But no promises!

Regardless, about the pic then.

It is a WIP. It's a sketch for a shadowalkers piece (Wooh! Haven't heard of that au in a while eh?)

I have redesigned mostly Bai He's outfit and added a little pouch for Macaca. The change was mostly so I had more freedom to do different top designs for the new members of the fam!

If anyone has suggestions for outfit designs or accessories or jewelery, hair, anything! let me know pls!

This is just the WIP stage and I really want to achieve that semi-wild, untamed but mysterious and refined gypsy look.

(Also its a guilty pleasure of mine to dress up my characters in aus or just for the fun of it lol)

And fun fact: Wukong's the only one in the fam wearing shoes lol.

Another fun fact: That brick pattern rag he's wearing? Was once a part of tripitaka's cassock from their days on the mountain. (see shadowalkers lore summary for context)

I didn't forget their tails this time! Wheeee!!

Oooh! Ooooh! Also the top half of Wukong's body? I did that myself sans references!!! Woooooooh!!!

Not that there's anything wrong with references of course. Pros and beginners use them and I do recommend them for poses, ideas and such.

Though I am proud I could think of something off like memory and make it work! I think...you can tell me otherwise lol

(BTW this is the after of the main plot where shadowpeach reconciles, they escape the town and Bai He gains a new stepbrother!)

SH!T I REALIZED I FORGOT MEI!!!!

UM I'LL ADD HER IN!! PROMISE!!!!

[vikkirosko]

Can I request Alastor, Vox, Valentino, Velvet, Stolas and Stella with a female hell born fox demon reader?

Reader demon form is a giant nine tailed fox with one red eye (like in the song "the good child and the fox spirit").

Despite her tendencies to use people's pain and sadness to manipulate them into making a deal with her, she became attached to a pitiful human child who only wanted a friend and someone who will take care of him.

Reader now take care of the child and make her s/o and the child meet. Saying to the child : "You see him/her? He/she's your dad/mom now.

thanks!

Headcanons Human child

📻 Alastor x hellborn fem!Reader 🎙

Your relationship with Alastor has been the cause of many rumors. You were both strong and engaged in different activities in Hell. Sometimes you even took part in his radio broadcast. You were cruel and often went to the human world to make deals with people. You told him about your travels only in private, not considering it something that should get on the radio, but after your next trip you returned not with a story but with a little boy

You directly told the child that Alastor is his father and that he does not need to be afraid of him. While Alastor, at your request, was preparing food for the boy, you told him that you intended to make a deal with someone from the people, but found the boy. You weren't going to make a deal with him. You just wanted to scare the child, but he wasn't afraid of your demonic appearance, but just asked you if you wanted to become his friend. It seemed strange to you and you asked why he would ask a demon about it. Then the child told you that he had no one and he was left all alone. You felt sorry for the child, so you decided to take the boy under your care and become a mom for him

Alastor was surprised by the story you told, but he wasn't going to judge you. He didn't mind being a father to the boy, since you decided to become a mother. He wasn't sure if raising a child in Hell was a good idea, but he was curious to see what would come of it, so he didn't mind helping you with your little adventure

Unlike you, he knew how to communicate with children who were not born in Hell, so together you coped well with taking care of the boy. In a sense, he really became your son and you and Alastor were ready to protect the boy from the threats that there were quite a lot in Hell

💞 Valentino x hellborn fem!Reader 🚬

You and Valentino were one of the most intimidating couples in Hell. You were both strong and engaged in different activities in Hell, which allowed you to have more influence. However, you preferred to travel to the human world to make deals with people. Valentino did not interfere in this, preferring to do business in Hell. After you went back to Hell, he would come to you and you would discuss what had happened during the time that you had not seen each other

When he came to you again, he wanted to tell you a story about what had recently happened at the studio, but when he came, he saw that you were not alone. There was a child in your apartment. A little girl who didn't look scared. On the contrary, she smiled and played with you. When you noticed Valentino, you pointed him out to the girl and said that he was her father now. The girl waved to him and he looked at you in shock, waiting for an explanation from you

You didn't hide anything from him. You talked about how you went to human world and intended to make a deal with this girl, but everything didn't go according to plan. This child was not afraid of your demonic appearance, which not even all the inhabitants of Hell could withstand. This girl asked you if you could become her friend. She was all alone, she had no family and so you decided to take care of her and become her mom, so you decided that Valentino would be the father of the child. He wasn't sure if it was a reasonable idea, but you weren't going to change your mind

Valentino didn't know how he was supposed to fulfill the role of a father. He didn't get along very well with children, but you didn't have any experience in taking care of children either. You both had to learn how to take care of a girl in the conditions of Hell

❤ Velvette x hellborn fem!Reader 🤍

Velvette really enjoyed spending time with you. Your relationship has been going on for a long time and she loved listening to your stories about how you traveled to human world. Unlike her, you could safely travel there to make deals with people. She liked your cruelty and cunning

When she came to you, she knew for sure that you had returned from the human world, but she did not expect that you would not come alone. You came back with a human child. The little boy who grabbed your hand and looked at Velvette with apprehension. However, when you told the boy that she was now his mother and the kid and Velvette were surprised by your words, but the boy quickly calmed down, completely trusting you

You told Velvette that you were planning to make a deal with this child. You thought that he would be scared when he saw your demonic appearance, but the child was not afraid of you and asked if you could become his friend. You couldn't remain indifferent to such an innocent request, so you decided to take the boy under your care. You sincerely hoped that Velvette would share with you the care of him

She was thrilled that you had become a real family in a sense. You even had a child. She was ready to brag about it in front of her friends, she spent a huge amount of time with you and the boy, as if you really were a family and she intended to do a lot to make it really so

🖥 Vox x hellborn fem!Reader 📱

You and Vox have been together for a long time. Unlike him, you were born in Hell and lived there much longer than he did. You were a powerful demon who often went to the human world to make deals with people. You liked to use people's sorrows and weaknesses to force them to make deals with you, then telling him about their travels. You might not be home for days or even weeks, but you always came back unharmed

When he once again came to your apartment, he heard sounds from the kitchen. He quickly realized that you were at home, so he went to the kitchen. However, there he saw something he did not expect. You were cooking something in the kitchen while a child was sitting at the table. The girl who watched your actions with curiosity. Vox had a lot of questions about what was happening, but you didn't let them ask. You noticed him and told the girl that he was her father now

Your words have baffled Vox. He wasn't going to become someone's parent, but you decided everything for him. He started asking you questions when you finished cooking. You didn't hide the fact that it was a human child and that you originally planned to make a deal with her. But the child's request has put you in a dead end. All she wanted was to have a friend. She wanted someone to take care of her and in the end you couldn't leave the baby and make a deal with her. That's why you took her to Hell and took on the role of her mother

Vox didn't know how long you were going to be the mother of a human child, but after a few weeks in the role of the girl's father, he realized that it wasn't so bad. He became attached to the child, understanding why you decided to take on the role of mother. He didn't know how to protect the child yet, but he wasn't going to stop until he came up with something

🦉 Stolas x hellborn fem!Reader 🎩

You and Stolas started dating a few months after he divorced. You hid your relationship from everyone, and especially from his daughter. You were born in Hell and visited human world quite often to make deals with people. Stolas enjoyed spending time with you. He knew that you often used people's sorrows and pain to force them to make deals with you, but he knew that with those who were dear to you, you were caring and attentive

When he came to you one day, you asked him to help you. He was very worried, you rarely asked for anything, much less for help, but when you brought him into the living room in your apartment, he saw a human girl there. The child was alive, healthy and was not afraid of you or Stolas. However, he was even more surprised when you told the girl that Stolas is now her father. Your words surprised him a lot and he asked you to explain what was going on

As it turned out, you were going to make a deal with this child, but you were surprised that the girl was not afraid of you, even though you took your demonic form in front of her. When you asked the child what she would like, the girl said that she would like to have someone next to her who would take care of her. She wanted to have a friend. For the first time, you didn't know what to do and watched the girl for several days until, eventually, you decided to take her home with you. You managed to get attached to the child and decided to take care of her, but you had absolutely no experience of caring for children, which is why you decided to ask Stolas for help

Stolas gladly agreed to help you. In a sense, you have become a family. He was good at taking care of children, because taking care of his daughter was on his shoulders. Sometimes Stolas thought about offering you and the girl to live with him, but he did not know how Octavia would react to this, so so far he was in no hurry to tell his daughter about it. Next to you, he felt peace and love. Even though you weren't a family yet, that's how he felt

🦉 Stella x hellborn fem!Reader 👑

You and Stella have known each other for a long time. No one ever knew how close you really were. You were a pure-blooded demon and for a long time you were in a secret relationship. She was married and had a daughter, and you were alone and often went to the human world to make deals with people. Only when she officially divorced Stolas did you stop hiding your relationship. No one dared even try to condemn you. However, one day something happened that Stella did not expect

One day when she came to your house, you told her that you had to introduce her to someone. Stella didn't like surprises and walked with you frowning. But her eyes widened when she saw a human child in your kitchen. She finally lost the power of speech when you told the child that now Stella will be his mother like you. Stella quickly dragged you out of the room, with indignation in her voice, starting to ask you what all this means. She doubted that it was your child, but the fact that you decided to keep him with you bothered her. She didn't expect this from you

She knew you as a cruel demon who used human sorrows and pain to manipulate them, but she couldn't understand why you felt sorry for the child. Only in the evening, when you put the child to bed, you told her that you were originally going to sign a contract with this child. However, you couldn't do it. He was the first one who wasn't afraid of your demonic appearance. He didn't ask you for money, power, or anything else that other people usually asked for. This child just wanted a friend, someone who would be there for him and take care of him. You got attached to him and couldn't leave him alone

Stella just sighed heavily, having stopped arguing with you. She knew it was useless to argue with you and she didn't want to spoil your relationship, because her feelings for you were real. She didn't know how seriously you took the child, but as long as you wanted that child to stay by your side, as long as you protected him, Stella was ready to agree to play this strange role of a parent for a human child, since it made you happy