#tumblr also gets my following count wrong
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
db0xtae · 22 hours ago
Text
Winning the Breakup | Chapter 1
- Minho (Xo Kitty) X Reader
Tumblr media
ᯓ★ Summary : Y/N, a talented and athletic after an intense breakup, Y/N reluctantly agrees to fake date Minho, to make their exes jealous. What begins as a mutual arrangement soon turns complicated when their fake relationship starts to feel all too real. With humor, bickering, and tender moments, Minho and Y/N’s journey proves that sometimes the best way to heal from heartbreak is to allow yourself to fall in love.
ᯓ★ Warnings : None
ᯓ★ Word Count : 876
ᯓ★ A/N : Hi guys!!! Welcome to my first post and story written on Tumblr. It's my first time writing a story for the internet, so if there's anything I can improve on, please let me know. I hope you guys enjoy this story. I also started posting this story on ao3. Hope you enjoy!!!
✮ ⋆ ˚。𖦹 ⋆。°✩
Chapter 1: The Deal
The warm glow of fairy lights strung across the KISS courtyard illuminated the scene. Students milled about, dressed to the nines for the school’s fall social, a semi-formal gathering meant to ease the pressure of midterms. Tables were loaded with snacks, and a DJ played the latest hits while clusters of students swayed on the makeshift dance floor.
Y/N stood off to the side, leaning casually against a column, observing the crowd with her sharp, assessing eyes. A cup of punch rested loosely in her hand as she scanned the room. She wasn’t here to dance or socialize. Her goal was simple: to avoid her ex, Alex, who had been staring at her like she was a piece of art he regretted selling.
“Don’t look now, but lover boy is heading this way,” Kitty whispered, sidling up beside her.
Y/N groaned, tilting her head back dramatically. “Of course he is. Does he think lingering stares and awkward smiles will win me back? Pathetic.”
Kitty stifled a laugh, glancing at Alex, who was indeed making his way toward them with a nervous energy that bordered on embarrassing. “Maybe he’s hoping you’ll forgive him.”
“Not in this lifetime.” Y/N straightened up, smoothing the skirt of her chic black dress. Her posture screamed confidence, but inside, her annoyance was bubbling over. She wasn’t in the mood for fake apologies or shallow attempts to rekindle a relationship.
Before Alex could reach them, another voice cut through the noise.
“Y/N, you’re here. Great.”
She turned to see Minho, who was striding toward her with his signature smirk firmly in place. His tailored suit and easy confidence turned a few heads, but Y/N just rolled her eyes. Minho always knew how to make an entrance.
“Minho,” she greeted dryly. “What do you want?”
“Wow, no ‘hi,’ no compliment on how great I look tonight? I’m hurt.” He placed a hand dramatically over his chest.
Kitty snickered and quickly excused herself, whispering, “Good luck,” as she darted off.
“What do you want?” Y/N repeated, raising an eyebrow.
Minho leaned against the column next to her, his smirk softening slightly. “Let me guess—Alex is being a pain?”
Y/N glanced at Alex, who had stopped mid-step and was now awkwardly talking to someone else, clearly reconsidering his approach. “What gave it away?”
“The way you look like you’d rather be anywhere else,” Minho said with a chuckle.
Y/N shrugged. “Not wrong.”
“Here’s the thing,” Minho began, his tone dropping into something more conspiratorial. “I’ve got a similar problem.”
She crossed her arms. “Let me guess. Hyeri?”
Bingo. The mention of his ex-girlfriend made Minho’s jaw tighten ever so slightly, but he quickly masked it with a smile. “Correct. She’s been parading her new boyfriend around like he’s some kind of prize. It’s getting old.”
“Sounds like a you problem,” Y/N replied coolly.
“It could be an us problem,” Minho countered, his smirk returning.
She narrowed her eyes. “What are you getting at?”
Minho leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “Hear me out. You want Alex to stop following you around like a lost puppy. I want Hyeri to stop acting like she’s winning whatever weird competition she thinks we’re in. Solution? We fake date.”
Y/N stared at him, blinking slowly. “Fake date?”
“Yeah. You and me, the power couple of KISS,” Minho said, gesturing dramatically. “We’ll show them both what they’re missing. It’s perfect.”
“Perfectly insane,” Y/N shot back.
“Think about it,” Minho urged. “We already look good together. People are always talking about how we’re the most attractive students at KISS—”
“Correction: you talk about that,” Y/N interrupted.
“—and it’ll be believable,” Minho continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “We hang out with the same group, so it won’t seem out of nowhere. Plus, I know how to sell a good story.”
Y/N hesitated. As ridiculous as Minho sounded, he wasn’t entirely wrong. Alex would definitely back off if he thought she’d moved on, and it would be satisfying to see his face if she and Minho started “dating.”
“And what happens when the whole thing blows up in our faces?” she asked.
“It won’t,” Minho said confidently. “We’ll set rules, keep it simple. Once they get the message, we ‘break up’ and go back to normal. No harm, no foul.”
Y/N frowned, considering the idea. She didn’t particularly like Minho—his arrogance was exhausting—but she couldn’t deny that he was persuasive.
“Fine,” she said finally. “But we do this my way. No over-the-top stunts or dramatic public displays. Keep it believable.”
Minho grinned, holding out his hand. “Deal.”
She eyed his hand warily before shaking it. “Deal.”
The whispers started almost immediately. By the time the party ended, half the school had seen Minho escorting Y/N to the dance floor for a slow song, his hand resting casually on her waist while they chatted and laughed like old friends.
“You two were…unexpected,” Yuri said the next morning as they sat in the cafeteria.
Y/N shrugged, taking a sip of her coffee. “What can I say? Minho’s not as insufferable as I thought.”
Across the table, Minho smirked, clearly enjoying the attention. “And Y/N’s not as cold as people think.”
Kitty glanced between them, her expression skeptical but amused. “This is going to be interesting.”
37 notes · View notes
lulu2992 · 25 days ago
Text
Thank you, Tumblr, for rectifying my follower count last month and finally removing all those “ghost bots” from October 2019 ♥
The few of you whose names are hidden in the list aren’t included in the displayed number anymore either, unfortunately, but at least I know who you are and that you’re real :)
6 notes · View notes
ssaemilyhotchner · 2 months ago
Text
.
2 notes · View notes
oveliagirlhaditright · 2 years ago
Text
Is Tumblr glitching or something? Because it's, like, telling me I have 300 more followers than I did last night. o_0 And I know that that's not possible.
5 notes · View notes
comfreyhollywings · 2 years ago
Text
about to be a liitttllle bit controversial here but i’m not sure i like how tarot at this point in tumblr spaces mostly cater to 18+ soulmate readings, who will be your soulmate, what will your love life be like, etc etc.
3 notes · View notes
knightyoomyoui · 10 months ago
Text
[SMUT] TWICE Tzuyu x Male Reader - "First Time"
Tumblr media
Here's a Tzuyu smut for 2024, which is the first and one of my two remaining smut fics left before I offically end my TWICE smut anthology series. I guess I can't give that much hint already for what's gonna be the final one, since I feel that you guys know already if I say that it would be my toughest challenge so far on both writing one-shot fanfic and a smut genre respectively. Just noticed that simply my main agenda right now after returning for my hiatus is to finish everything I've left behind that are this close from being complete, and it all starts here. Enjoy reading, you horndogs lol. WARNING: mature content, contains smut, +18 WORD COUNT: 5800+ TAGS: friends with benefits, vanilla sex, masturbation, oral sex, thigh fuck, blowjob, pussy licking, ass eating, fluff, doggystyle, anal, body worship
Here's my Ko-fi account where you can drop your donations or ask for a commission. You can check it out on my Tumblr profile too!  Buy knightyoomyoui a Coffee. ko-fi.com/knightyoomyoui - Ko-fi ❤️ Where creators get support from fans through donations, memberships, shop sales and more! The original 'Buy Me a Coffee' Page.
Tumblr media
You are heavily concentrated on the project that you are currently working on your desktop. It was already 11PM and you haven't had any dinner yet since you're the type of person who wants to finish a work when so invested in just one sitting.
Stretching your back on your swivel chair for a second after you switched to another template in your editing application, you heard your doorbell rang from outside. It surprised you because it's unlikely to have visitors at this rate of time.
Eyeing the heavy long metal beside your door, you carefully made your walk through the door and braced yourself to open it. Gripping the doorknob tight, you slowly turn it. Before you were about to swung it open, a familiar voice spoke from the outside, even surprising you more.
"Y-YN a-are you still there?"
She might have probably seen the lights from your windows still open, and essentially confirming if you are still awake inside or not anymore as she knows that you can sleep on either the lights are off or on, and she's aware also of what time is it already for her to do this.
Any threat or risks that you felt was completely swooped away when you heard her voice. Opening the door wide, there you saw your bestfriend Tzuyu standing in front of you.
As she raises her head, your eyes caught a glimpse of her own... and it doesn't share the same good condition. Her looks baggy, reddish, and... watery.
"Tzuyu, what brings you here?" You asked her curiously. "A-and... did you cried?"
Tzuyu nodded and in a swift moment, she slowly comes up to you and hugged you. You were dumbstrucked at her actions and what happened to her that made her be like this, but what matters first is that this poor lady in your arms definitely needs some comfort.
Raising your arm, you gently patted and rubbed her back as you let her pour all her tears on your shoulder. "Just let it out, Tzuyu. I  don't know what is going on, but I'm here for you okay?"
That's the reason why Tzuyu primarily chose to come right at you whenever she needs help. You were just there all the time for her, and it's so rare for people to make an alloted time for their special someone to accompany them whenever they need to.
"Let's go inside, it's already late." You invited her in to the house. She quickly followed and remove her grasp at you as you paved the way for her to enter.
She stepped inside, and you closed the door. "Let's go there." You pointed at the couch next to your workplace.
Tzuyu silently followed your command before she finally spoke as she got to sit comfortably. "Thanks for this, YN." Her voice was shaky and rough.
"What happened, Tzuyu? Is something wrong going on?" You asked her as you poured some hot glass of milk and cookies for her. "I know you always come by for my help but I didn't expect you to be here in the middle of the night."
"I-it's my parents." She wiped her tears off and clasped her hands together, laying them down on her lap. "They're having another huge miscommunication again. It's been like that for almost a week already, and I can't stand it anymore seeing them like that. I had enough, that's why I decided to run away and come seek for a place to stay in... through you."
You understood her purpose of appearing here immediately. "And you're free to stay here whenever you want, I'll do everything for my friend." Tzuyu smiled at that, but almost sincere as she felt slightly different at that statement. "What was your parents arguing about, if I may ask?"
"It's about my dad going out frequently these days looking for some cash to borrow from. I think he's been into loaning for sometime, much less to our knowledge. He got fired from work when the company he was working in decided not to accept everyone who has a health condition due to safety regulations, and he got both detected that he has acute diabetes and is already middle aged." Tzuyu began to explain.
"My mom was a stylist at a salon but her salary wasn't enough now for just us to sustain because we need it now too for my dad's treatment. Then, just now, they got into an argument when my mom learns that my dad was secretly making loan from most people these days without her permission. You know how loan sharks can be dangerous, right? But my dad just defended that he just want to do something for us to still gain money and he doesn't want to stay at home doing nothing for her family."
Tzuyu started to tear up once again, from the mixed emotions she's having from both of her parent's side in their tough situation. You once again assisted her by giving her a clean cloth to wipe her tears away. "Now I get it. I do understand your father's point though. It's hard for a parent to just find their selves doing nothing when they know the hard time their family must've been going through.
It's their responsibility to take care and provide their daily needs, and not doing that so will ick them uncomfortably. Even if doing loans was also quite not a good idea, atleast you can see how your father loves you and your mom. Your mom was just angry at your fad because she doesn't want him to get in danger once he couldn't be able to pay all his dues in no time."
Tzuyu nodded at you, pinpointing all the comments you have to say regarding her concern, as it makes sense anyway. "I was starting to consider to help them by looking for some job to do to earn money for them, but I'm not that decided yet plus... I don't really feel it yet to engage at work while I'm still studying you know."
"Ahh, the fear that you might be unable to do both of them simulteanously, huh. You don't want to fail your grades, isn't it?"
"Yeah." You were right. You know Tzuyu to be actually a smart girl based from the earlier times when you first met her and your experience of her being your classmate. She has a lot of potential, but what you like about her is that she's careful on using those and avoid the possibility of wasting it on the wrong time.
"You know what, save it for tomorrow. You should go to rest, you look unsettled at the moment. It's already midnight." You mentioned as you looked once again in her droopy eyes and gloomy demeanor. "We can talk about this again for tomorrow."
"T-thank you again, YN." You nodded for her gratitude. "Stay here, okay? You want to watch TV?" She agreed. You opened it for her. "Entertain yourself there with your milk and cookies, I'll be just finish my task here."
She obliged, and she lets you do your thing there on the desktop. Minutes have passed, and with all those glances Tzuyu has been giving on your busy self, she began to get curious at what actually you are doing.
She stood from her seat and approaches you. Peeking at the monitor of your computer, you were shocked when she ducked next to your side, her pretty face almost inches away from you.
Your fingers nervously types from the keyboard and moves the mouse as you just let her observe what you are doing. "What's for the edit?"
"Commission." You simply answered. "Client requested to create a presentation for her upcoming thesis research. She has no other time left because she spent too much researching and revising her topic. Good thing she already has parts prepared for me to input for each slides."
Tzuyu hummed. She continues to watch you do your work while also admiring the fact that you are doing a sideline also apart from your current education. "So you are part-timing too?"
"Freelancing to be exact. I'm the one who looks for clients and offer service. Mostly editing, as you can see."
You started to sense the purpose pf her inquiry. "You know Tzuyu, my only advice about what you're planning is that you are doing right. Don't rush about it. If you don't feel the passion of it then don't head straight. It's hard to do something that you didn't even feel doing in the first place."
Tzuyu keeps that in mind. "Can I put up some suggestions?"
"Sure do. Would love to hear it from you."
She then began to point out some more details she can imagine in her head and you judged it with her by trying it on your work. It almost took half an hour before you finally finish it, saving you some more time of impring your butt too much on the chair for sitting too long and tiring yourself up.
Fortunately, Tzuyu helped you to wrap up early. "Oh wow, I didn't know you were so good at designing. Tzuyu, I swear I see some potential in you."
Tzuyu blushed and became embarassed. "Damn it, YN. Stop fluttering me." You chuckled and awwed at her cuteness. "But thank you."
"You should consider freelancing too, maybe you can attract a client that pays a lot but I hope you can endure the huge assignment."
"I'll take note of it." She nodded. You noticed that she already emptied her milk and cookies. "Cmon, let's get you to your room for tonight."
Tzuyu followed you and both ended up in a bedroom that is cozy and suitable enough for a single person to be used. "You can sleep on the bed, I'll be here on my extra cushion here."
She gasped and became shy at your gentleman act. "B-but, YN... this is y-your room. I'm fine-"
"No buts, no ifs. You are a woman who should be treated with respect. Now please, you can take mine for the night."
You were about to set up the cushion on the floor but Tzuyu tugged your arm. "Yes?"
"C-can you just stay with me on the bed?"
You became speechless at her request. The fact that you are about to sleep with Tzuyu close to you has effectively boosted the blood cursing through your body, creating goosebumps on your skin. You became red and flustered about it.
"W-what? Why?"
"I- I can't sleep without hugging something." Tzuyu pouted.
"I have an extra pillow though."
"I need something big that fits me to cuddle." Her voice became even more softer. You sweared that your heart is about to melt. "I have a life-sized bear that my mom bought for me since I was a kid on my home but I don't want to go back there for now. So... c-can you be my cuddle bear for now, if you might?"
You sighed heavily at how Tzuyu looks so pure and beautiful pleading at you with her puppy eyes and that mellow visuals. This is what's pulling you back: it's your freaking crush and the idea of sleeping with her on the same space, same bed is what's unraveling your lack of composure.
But you don't want your friend to be sad and disappointed because of your stubborness. "Alright, fine. You can hug me in your sleep."
"Yay! Thank you, YN!"
Both of you laid down on the bed you turned around with Tzuyu facing your back, as you can't endure much longer seeing her face too long, although it would be a delight to have such this wonderful sight before you sleep and to wake up in the morning.
She wraps her arms at your waist and hugged you tightly. You blushed when you felt her soft breasts squished on your upper back, sending your heart to race. She buries her face at the crook of your neck before sending a chilling whisper close to your ear.
"Goodnight, YN."
"G-goodnight, Tzu..." You breathily replied before you and her doze off to slumber.
The next morning, Tzuyu woke up first than you. Her eyes slowly opened, regaining her sight, and the first thing she saw was your side-profile. You were now laying flat on your back beside her.
She indulges the pleasant view of your peaceful state, smiling on her own happiness to have such an amazing friend and an irresistable crush like you. Although her frown began to shape from her lips when she remembered the reality that she is still uncertain if you do feel the same for her.
Intaking this moment of you and her in one bed, nothing around but a room filled of silence and being struck by the bright sunlight of the morning. She looked at your bodies laying together until her eyebrows furrow when she spotted something strange under you.
Tzuyu saw a hump-shaped formed onto the blanket that is covering your lower blanket. She was curious to see what it is as she noticed how it almost seemed like it's moving.
Taking off the blanket around you, it had her thinking twice if what she just did is not right at all.
But that doesn't mean she didn't like it at all.
Tzuyu was staring at the source of that hump, and that is coming from your short that is having a tent marked on your crotch.
Unlike from the blanket, what she's looking at was even more obvious at what shape it is. It was long, large and diagonally laying down, measuring it as it reaches down to the upper part of your thigh.
Tzuyu was blushing hard as she realized that she just witnessed you having the most common thing for boys: a morningwood. You have no idea at all that you have a woman beside you who is clearly seeing how hard you can get with whatever reason it may be.
She became so curious, almost deciding if she'll take a touch of it to found out what it feels. Her hands raised up and fidgeting to go forward onto your crotch.
That is, until she got interrupted when she shrieked a little as she saw you moved, and your new position got her swallowing her threat and nervousness crawling inside.
You are now laying sideways, with your front figure now facing her. Tzuyu can feel your morningwood pressing against her bare thighs, and she swear that it's driving her hormones crazy when her skin can feel the warmth of your covered erected cock laying down on her touch.
"He feels so big, oh my goodness." Tzuyu whispered. She even teased it by gently bouncing your cock on her thigh by moving it up and down slowly. Her thighs start to rub with each other as she is beginning to become horny.
"N-no... control yourself, Tzu. You don't want to end up harassing your friend while sleeping. This isn't right." Tzuyu quickly shook her head before carefully removing herself away from your side, standing up from the bed.
As she is now on her feet, she glanced downwards and noticed a wet spot on her shorts. She was shocked to see that she got easily wet thinking about your elongated cock earlier. It had her panicked and rushed quickly at the bathroom to aid this.
Minutes later, you woke up after still in your morning wood, not having any clue that Tzuyu seen that beast earlier. You tried to fixed it by repositioning it on your boxers and hid it under the hem of your shirt.
You exit the bedroom and saw Tzuyu preparing your breakfast on the table. "Wow, Tzuyu I wasn't expecting that you'll be the one to cook." You chuckled as you saw the mouthwatering scrambled eggs and fried rice with the plates.
"Well, I don't want to do nothing while staying here you know. I want to remain productive too." Tzuyu smiled. Her eyes glided down to your shorts and remembering what she just saw almost distracted the stability of her mind. "G-good morn-ning, YN.", she awkwardly greeted you.
"Good morning too, Tzu. Let's eat?"
The two of you began to eat and start some random topics to talk during your breakfast. After both were finished, you volunteered to do some dishes while Tzuyu asks permission to take a shower in which you granted and willingly let her borrow your spare clothes for the meantime.
While you on your way back to the kitchen to grab a new clean rug from your storage area, you heard something that catched your attention from the bathroom door. Your hearing is very sharp and sensitive that's why you can immediately catch on the sounds around you.
And this one is a bit surprising and... enticing. You pressed your ear closer at the door and there you heard loud and clear the sound of someone moaning inside. It definitely is coming from Tzuyu and judging from the noise she's creating, you probably guessed that she must be doing something to satisfy her needs: and you cannot believe it that you have your girl bestfriend masturbating in the bathroom of your own freaking house.
You quickly rushed away out of the door when you noticed that the noise stopped. As you returned to the kitchen, you gently massaged your cock getting hard from that sultry noise.
Is s-she... Fuck, I'm getting turned on with my friend masturbating. Goddamn, control it YN. You don't want her to caught you acting lewd." You hissed yourself before continuing with your dishes.
Tzuyu emerged from the bathroom, just as time you finished washing dishes. You sheepishly avoided her by quickly grabbing your towel and take your turn next at the bathroom to shower.
 As you stepped inside after closing the door to see Tzuyu sitting on the couch and looking at her phone, you looked around your bathroom and had you imagined Tzuyu doing her own business earlier in this exact spot.
It made you rush quickly on taking a bath while fighting with the urge to masturbate by squeezing and massaging your cock and balls with soap, basically edging yourself away from doing so.
It was then you finished, you realized that you forgot to bring your clothes with you at your rush. "I have to be quick."
You opened the door and was about to dash outside when it shocked you that Tzuyu was walking at the same direction as you, emerging out from the kitchen, resulting in her to collide at your naked body. Her feet accidentally pulled your towel after she slumped backwards to control her balance, causing your towel to unveil your lower part.
Both became speechless and flustered as you realized that your largened cock has now exposed to Tzuyu's innocent eyes. You tried to cover it with your hands despite it's massive size. "O-OH SHIT,  TZUYU DON'T LOOK!"
You exclaimed to her but instead she remained staring, gawking at it's size. "Oh my god please turn around, i'll take back my towel. I'm so s-"
"You don't have to, I've seen it already."
"Huh?"
Your face crumpled in confusion at what Tzuyu said. "I-I've seen your thing a while ago after I woke up and I noticed that it's... h-hard. It's bulging on your boxers that I was concerned it might break it by itself."
"And I-I felt bad about it, I- I almost want to help it..." Tzuyu slowly steps forwards, removes your hands from blocking it and returns her sight at your cock now pointing at her, she inspects how it throbs everytime her eyes stare longer at it. "T-Tzuyu wait..."
"Does it give you difficulty right now, YN? I-I'm willing to help you, if you d-don't mind." Tzuyu looked at you with her mischievous soft demeanor. You gasped at her offer.
"But Tzuyu, are you sure about that? This is so embarassing but..."
"Hmm?"
"I don't have a problem w-with it, it's just that... oh God I can't form my words coming out of my mouth well!"
"Don't stress yourself, you said it already." Tzuyu shushed you as she patted your chest. She leaned at your face and landed a surprise kiss on you, making your eyes widen and jaw drop more at her action. "For now, just let me repay you in return for helping me by doing t-the same for you~"
She slowly lowered herself down to her knees, now kneeling in front of you. Her eyes and now leveled equally with your cock facing at her. She bit her lips and viewed at it with mesmerizing gazes. "I've only seeing these from the internet, and I was so right that to see this in personal is a much better deal to admire. I might get addicted with this."
Her hands surrounded the thickness of your cock. She slowly pulls it and bends it upwards, tightening her grip before she starts pumping it in a dangerously slow pace. She heard your deep sigh and looked upwards to see your face floating in cloud nine.
"Does it feel good, YN?"
"Y-yeah, it does. God, it's so much better than using my own hand."
Tzuyu smiled at that compliment. She started to stroke you even more, her fist kept that grip before her other available hand started to come to play too, targeting your testicles.
Your hanging huge balls got fondled with care. "It feels so full and heavy, YN." She pointed out. "Are you even doing it?"
"Y-yeah..." you said as you started to hold her hair and rub it gently.
"How often?"
"J-just... two times in a week, sometimes months." Your breath became raggy as she began increasing the speed of her fists jacking off your thick meat. "Oh god, Tzu..."
"Are you ready, YN?"
"For what?"
She didn't had to reply verbally, but instead gave you the answer orally by circling your mushroom head leaking pre-cum already with her tongue.
"S-shit! I'm sensitive t-there, oh!" You gasped loud as Tzuyu continues to do foreplay on your helpless cock, licking the entire length and juggling each of your balls with her puckered mouth.
After feeling satisfied, she now puts your entire meat inside her mouth and starts bobbing her head off. She fucked herself with an increasing force until her nose is now touching your groin.
Tzuyu pointed at her head and hair to signal you something in which you understood right away. You gripped it and started doing the favor on your own by fucking her mouth with your own choosing of speed.
Your desire on having such lustful act with Tzuyu is making you overwhelm, urging you to participate further in this with her. With the tightening of your groin, you mercilessly pounded her face to race through the end.
"I'm cumming, Tzuyu. Where do you want me in?"
Tzuyu just pointed at her throat. Few pumps and that's all it took for you to blast off your warm seed, filling up her mouth with your load that was saved up for months of your inactivity to ejaculate.
She slowly lets go of your cock with a loud pop before cleaning her lips with the remaining traces of cum left. "We can do it right here, but my pussy is unavailable for now. I-I don't want to get pregnant y-yet..."
"It's fine, Tzuyu. I respect that." You got her point. She must be fearing that she might cause additional stress for her parents in the middle of their financial crisis just to assist her on supporting her pregnancy and the child's needs once she gave birth to it.
You took a mental note that now you're having sex with her, a necessary caution would be required first to perform to ensure the safety.
"But that doesn't mean we can't pleasure ourselves anymore without that. You can still use my body... wear condoms, but only for this another hole I got behind me." She said as she stood up and turned her back on you, making her posture upright as she presents you her ass and rubbing it on your cock.
You had enough of her teasing, you lifted her shirt up and pulled her through her torso. Your hands climbed up to her bra-covered boobs. They are average sized at it's finest, perfect enough to fit in your palm.
You unclasped her bra and removed it around her, now playing on her naked tits while you devoured her neck with supple kisses. She purred and yelped at the sensation she's getting from you pleasing her.
Your fingers pinched and twirling her nipples before you turned her around and made her kiss you. You carried her body and brought her on the couch while she is wrapped around you.
You sat on the couch with her on your lap. Letting go of her lips, you then head on to her breasts by give the attention it deserves, sucking and licking the light-brown delectable areolas and nipples that she have while massaging each it to intensify the pleasure.
Tzuyu was just moaning at your active mouth running around her sensitive area. Your hands then moved around her ass as you kneaded her cheeks from her short before you hooked on the waistband and removed it from her legs.
Her now exposed underwear is the only garment she has left. She crawled on the bed and went all fours. You switched behind her and kneeled, facing her alluring ass as you removed her underwear and took a sniff on it.
Her asshole and the outline of her restricted pussy is now visible to your hungry eyes. Without no more hesitation, you rubbed yourself around her cheeks, making her gasp at the air that you blew from your nose and mouth having in contact with her private areas, tickling her into goosebumps.
You start licking her pussy, wiggling her outer walls before you spreaded it with your fingers then inserted it inside, making Tzuyu scream in surprise. Your mouth then worked next on her hole and sucked on each of her cheeks to grab a taste of her cake.
"Mmmhhmmphhh yeah you're so good at this, YN oh fuck~" she said while grinding her ass across your face and feel your fingers pumping back and forth in her pussy. She started to shiver when you quickened your movement, leaving her in a screaming, groaning mess.
"Ughhh yes fuck fuck fuck YN i'm so close, keep that fingers deep within me~" Tzuyu purred as she gripped tight at the back of the couch, enduring the huge pleasure being provided to her by her dear bestfriend.
"I'm cumming, i'm cumming on your face YN!" Tzuyu yelled before she squirted her love nectar straight to your awaiting face and mouth, tasting and slurping her juices as you slowly rode her orgasm out with slow fingering.
You didn't let Tzuyu to recover some more time as you stood up and jerked your cock at the gaps of her ass. "Are you ready, Tzu?"
"Yes, please. I can take it. I want it to be you, YN. You're the only one I trust."
"I'm glad so, Tzuyu. Tell me if I need to stop okay?"
She nodded. You directed your tip to her entrance and slowly entered. You heard Tzuyu groaned as each inch are now pressing her hole.
"A-ah wait, YN let me adjust." Tzuyu hissed and fixed her position in all fours. "Alright, continue."
You gently pushed deeper and now your cock is inside her ass. You started to move, and you gasped at how tight her ass feels around you, feeling the way she clench when your crotch bumps at her ass.
Sensing that this makes it even feel much better fucking her, you started clapping her ass as you feel like it. Tzuyu just continues to blabber random words of praises and constant moans while your speed changes from rough to vanilla.
Her sultry, sexy voice has reduced to a hum when she felt another splash of wamrth inside of her, but this time in her hole as you shoot another load of cum on her ass with regards to safety of commiting sex with her.
As you pulled out, you saw some few overflow out of her asshole. You gritted your teeth in guilt. "I-i'm sorry, I think I may have done it too much."
Tzuyu giggled and sighed at your considerate behavior. "Don't feel too bad about it, YN. It just means that you really gave it all... which is what I really want from you." She winked.
You blushed before standing back up. "I'm gonna go grab some tissue." You said as you left her for a while before going back to wipe the remaining cum on her ass to keep the couch left unstained with the smell of sex.
"Want to go for one more round?" She challenged you with a smirk as she sat properly beside you, crossing her legs.
"I'm in. What do you want next?"
"Hmm, I think it's time for you to decide for this one. I'm already satisfied with my own cravings, now it's your turn." Tzuyu said, posing herself like she's in deep thoughts. "May I ask you one? What part of my body do you actually admire?"
You traced her naked body but there's this one specific part that drives you crazy whenever you get hynoptized at it's perfect shape and thickness. "If i'm going to be honest, your best gift that was sculpted by the gods for you is your heavenly thighs, Tzu." You swayed your head while whistling at how magnificent it looks.
"Tell me more about it." She flirtatiously whispered at you while playing with your hair.
"I love your ass, those cute tits and that talented mouth too, but your thighs are just too immaculate. Too unmatchable. It's so jiggly..." You started to ran your hands around her well-built thighs. "So smooth, so thick... I would be really honored to be suffocated in these damn pillows."
"Now you gave me an idea to show me what more of these can do." Tzuyu winked. She reaches for your semi-limp cock, awakening it back to it's full size by flicking her fingers around the bulbous head. Her legs shifted above your lap, with your cock sandwiched between those voluptuous thighs to die for.
"And you are very lucky to experience such a rare service coming from such Thighwanese beauty." She smirks before she squishes your hardened cock and strokes its skin with her thighs by lifting both her legs up and down.
"Ugh... mmmphh oh~" You moaned at the relaxing feeling of her thick thighs pumping off your shaft, eager to empty your remaining load you got. Tzuyu was enjoying the sight of yourself trapped and savoring the sensation of her strongest exual appeal.
"How does it feel having my thighs wrapped around your big cock, YN?"
"It's amazing..." You shut your eyes and gasped heavily at the feeling. "Shit, I can't hold much longer if you're doing like this to me Tzu!"
"Cum. Cum for me, YN. Let it out."
You assisted her legs on stroking you by holding her ankles while you buckle your hips, banging her juicy thighs smeared with your pre-cum as it ripples from the impact until you shoot another stream of sticky cum all over it including her knees.
Tzuyu lets you rest as she removes her legs from you and scooped all your cum on her fingers before eating it. She also cleaned your softening cock in payback to what you did to her ass a while ago, sucking it off until no drops are left.
She laid her head beside your arm and cuddled at your body. "I'm sorry if this is too sudden, YN. I got carried away that I started to act like this."
"It's fine, Tzu. You just wanted to destress, let's say in such different way." You nodded. "But it doesn't matter, as long as I get to make you happy and satisfied, I'm always open to accompany you."  You smiled at her and caressed her hair. However, it disappointed when you changed from becoming serious.
"And also, I should be thanking you too Tzuyu for this moment. I've only done this for the first time with a woman, and... to be honest I have to dare myself saying this to you that... you are my ideal girl. The one that I admire for months now. The one that my heart only prefers." Your confession was heard in such clear and simple statement by Tzuyu, and she was very strucked and touched listening at your words.
"And what we did means so much to me because I get to do it with the girl that I love, although it saddens me to think if do you even feel the same as mine. I know I could've confessed to you in a much better setting and better time but I just want to express it all right now to clarify that these isn't just driven from lust, but through my sincere admiration for you that is swirling inside my heart. I love you, Tzuyu."
Tzuyu pursed her lower lip and smiled sweetly at your message. She holds your hands and looked dearly at you. "I'm relieved to know that this is both our first-time having sex together. I was a bit nervous and shy at first but I just let my desire and desperate need of your touch control me, and I'm also glad that it has to be you too, YN. I couldn't imagine other deserving man than only you who I can allow take my virginity."
She went forward and turned your face at her to perform another passionate kiss. "Because I love you too, YN and I will cherish this moment that we did."
"Through that, I must take responsibility for this too. Now shall I ask you something then?" You said.
"Go on." She chuckled.
"Will you be my girlfriend, Tzuyu?"
She grinned brightly at your initiation. "I would be very willing to."
After your heated session with Tzuyu, both of you went to wash yourselves again while doing another quickie session after can't stop getting enough yet with your insatiable bodies.
Now back on getting dressed up, you and Tzuyu proceeded to discuss about her family problem story where you have finally lended some advices for her that might be helpful about their current situation.
More than a week later, you helped her to return back on their home after saving enough courage to confront her parents. When they saw her made her heading back to their home, the married Chou couple welcomed their daughter as they have now settled into peace.
Tzuyu and you then decided to maintain their relationship secret for the meantime as they start to date and explore their affection for each other further. You are also planning to accompany her on looking for a part-time job after she decided that she really needs it, as she prepares herself to balance it with her studies. Not forgetting this kind of relationship you established with her, you and Tzuyu would proceed to fulfill more of your fantasies together mostly taken place at your home like pleasuring yourselves in other various positions that involves rimming, entertaining yourself when one of you is bored by feasting on her pussy, boobs and your cock, or even your most favorite of them all: compressing your face in between her flawless ass and thighs until you end up unconscious.
Tumblr media
820 notes · View notes
lo1k-diamonds · 10 months ago
Text
Closer 💜
Tumblr media
GIF by namchyoon
SX Seoul Series | Namjoon's Entry
PAIRING: Namjoon x Reader (You can also read it on AO3)
SUMMARY: Namjoon and you were friends for years — he was your confidant, protector, and haven. You didn’t want to risk it, no matter what, but some things can’t be kept in the dark.
WORD COUNT: 8.2k
GENRE: friends to lovers, smut (it's lovemaking tbh)
RATING: R (explicit)
WARNINGS: reader is shy and introverted, mentions of anxiety, being in the dark in an agitated crowd (reader is safe w/ NJ), fear of losing a friendship, porn w/ plot (lovemaking, or my version of it), unprotected sex (wrap it up), dry humping, riding, they're both shy and idiots in love but they make it 💜
A.N. Is this a slow burn? Am I searingly slowly taking you all on the journey that is kissing and feeling Kim Namjoon? Some could say there was no need to describe it in such detail. They would be wrong 💜
Masterlist | Masterpost | Scroll my stories on Tumblr | Schedule and WIPs
Tumblr media
Someone called your name and you looked up.
“Come on! Don’t fall behind!”
You gasped mutely and rushed in between the ever-growing crowd to join your friends and coworkers atop the stairs. The line wasn’t too big tonight but you still preferred to stay close to them — no way you wanted to be left alone in a bar street in Itaewon in the middle of the night. You pressed your hands nervously, looking around while your friends laughed about something you didn’t hear. No, you didn’t want that. There could be weird people and drunk people, and you were the designated driver anyway—
“Hey!” 
You blinked at Juhyun through your eyeglasses with big wide brown eyes like a deer caught in headlights.
“Come along!” She sighed, extending her hand so you’d grab it, and you did with relief.
You gave your coat at the reception with a polite head bow, following closely after everyone. The noise hit your ribcage with the force of an alarm, making you grin with gritted teeth but you took a deep breath and hurried along. It wasn’t like you never went out, or had never been there before. SX Seoul had become the preferred club of people working in the industry, and so you found yourself with a vibrating ribcage and sweaty hands every once in a while. However, you did get anxious in crowded loud places like bars and clubs. An elbow sank into your side as you followed after Juhyun and despite the person’s apology and head bow, which you returned, you smiled with a hint of tiredness. The night had just begun.
You got set on the couches, saying hi to everyone you knew who was already there, and smoothly offered to help everyone get drinks. That was an easy way for you to get an alcohol-free drink early on and successfully avoid being offered drinks for a long while.
“Look who’s DJing tonight!”
You had sat near Juhyun after handing her a drink and smiled happily, engaging in light conversation.
“Didn’t you write his breakout music video?”
“Yeah, I did!” 
You smiled politely, a warm fuzzy feeling settling in your stomach — you might have not liked the constant background house beat that had you all screaming to be heard, but you did feel proud of your work. Of every concept you had written, every storyboard you had designed, and every screening you helped with that led you to where you were now — in a creative atmosphere surrounded by like-minded people who just wanted to bring joy and artistry to the world.
As the night continued, you were more and more comfortable, surrounded by people you knew. You didn’t think it could get better, but as soon as Namjoon arrived, you grinned from ear to ear and chuckled at your silliness.
“Hi everyone!” You instantly scooted over and made space for him to sit beside you and join in the conversation, yet as you tried to keep up, he leaned in, “Driving?”
You turned to him and smiled sheepishly, something he returned with a sweetness of his own. You had been friends forever; he knew the answer to his own question.
“Your hair,” he added. 
You blinked then felt for it over your shoulders and chest, trying to see in between psychedelic blinding lights if something had happened to it or something. 
“No! Just— It’s loose!”
You blinked again, pressing your eyeglasses up the bridge of your nose, “Well, yeah.”
He smirked briefly, looking down before facing you again with a gentle puff, “It looks good!”
Your lashes batted once before someone asked for his attention, and just in time. You could feel the heat spreading from your chest to your cheeks and turned to sip at your drink seemingly absentmindedly.
He noticed? You didn’t know why it surprised you so much; Namjoon was an attentive friend. Caring too, he always noticed when something was going wrong or a project was difficult. He always offered to help you out, and you did the same. You had that kind of relationship — friendly and supportive. Of course, that didn’t mean he had to notice your hairstyle for tonight. You had just let go of your usual braids for something more casual — just loose over your shoulders. And now there you were, playing with the long hair locks over your chest like your heart wasn’t fluttering at the simplest interaction.
“Hey! Let’s dance!”
You nodded at Juhyun and got up with a smile that crumbled just a little when Namjoon got up too. He scratched the back of his neck, sheepishly smiling at you and Juhyun.
“You don’t mind if I join you, right?”
“Of course not!”
She had answered for you because yet again you were pressing your lips. Namjoon wasn’t half as bad a dancer as he thought he was and you had all danced together before. Had you blushed then as you did now? You wondered as you beelined to the center of the dancefloor; you couldn’t remember. In the end, it didn’t matter. You smiled as you turned to Namjoon in that circle of people just randomly facing each other in turns. It didn’t have to be anything much, you were just having fun. All of you. It was absolutely fine.
He grabbed your hand and wiggled it for you to pivot and move around and you just laughed and did as told because it was fun. And not a big deal if he didn’t do it to the others, they were busy shouting in each other’s ears anyway.
You felt light and didn’t think it could get better than this when all of a sudden everything became pitch black. The music shut down and suddenly all you could hear was your ears ringing annoyingly and people either shouting or wondering a bit louder than usual about what was going on. It took you a couple of seconds to realize that it couldn’t be normal for a club to just abruptly shut down like that, and it was enough for your anxiety to instantly spike and sting your chest. Yet a pair of arms circled you lightening fast, pressing you safely to a firm chest.
Your cheeks were squished against his pectorals and you could hear a heart racing equally to yours under your ear. A question never formed itself, you knew exactly who was hugging you. It was safe now. You hugged him back and closed your eyes, using his body like an anchor to keep your anxiety from releasing you into the rowdy sea.
Namjoon could hear people getting agitated all around you two, making him squeeze you harder against him. People got nervous in situations like those. They could start running for the exit, pushing and stepping over people without a care if the panic was big enough. And as the absence of music and light continued, mere seconds felt like minutes cracking under the pressure as people became agitated.
He knew crowded places made you anxious. That was how you justified the way he was pressing his lips to the top of your head. It made your already racing heart jump with a foreign feeling, which mixed with his musky cologne had you sweating and not out of nervousness.
A louder shout not so far from you startled you into pressing your fingertips into his lower back and he immediately hugged you tighter. His lips brushed the top of your head again but the agitation around you was too loud, making it impossible to discern what he had said. Yet, regardless, you were safe. You could feel people shifting around you, voices becoming louder, and the occasional glimpse from people's phones. A wave of appreciation and gratitude flooded you, flowing over your anxiety and you unglued your cheek from his shirt to tell him.
His lips pressed lightly atop your cheekbone and your breath caught. His nose had tapped against your eyeglasses and you instinctively squinted though you couldn’t see. None of it bothered you though, on the contrary. Your lips parted in surprise, his thumb dragging across your jawline as if to make sure of where you were in the dark.
You forgot about the world around you. You were suspended in the air, in a trance, waiting for what would happen next, and it happened unexpectedly. His forehead touched yours and you closed your eyes, letting him cradle you sweetly. Little did he know that you could feel no anxiousness now, you were a blank page waiting to be written on.
Or maybe he knew. He didn’t force your chin but he did mutter something while his lips brushed your jawline, and you turned your head. Curiosity, it was all it was. Because you hadn’t heard him, but as your skins brushed, your lips caught the subtle hint of something plush and wet for the tiniest of moments.
You became dizzy and gripped his shirt at the end of his back. Was that what you thought it was? Was that—?
All it took was a millimeter for him to give you the hint that you took without hesitation. His lips pressed to the corner of your mouth and you sighed, eyes scrunching with the tension inside your chest. You were no mind and all instinct when you parted your lips further to get more, just a bit more. All you were ready to do was react, so when it felt like he was about to break away, you closed in.
You were incredibly aware of everything that involved Namjoon. The way his long fingers supported your jawline with a feather-like touch, his short hair falling just above his eyes tickling you where it got to your skin around your eyeglasses, the softest touch of his plush lips as even his breath eased, the gentlest breeze caressing your face whenever you tentatively parted and rejoined like waves kissing the shore.
You were aware of everything, and yet when the lights and music came back on, you were helpless. Namjoon straightened up to look around, trying to figure out what was going on, while you were just looking up at him, gripping him still, trying to figure things out on your own. What was that? What—
“Are you okay?” Juhyun asked right behind you and you jumped in place, startled. You let go of Namjoon, and it was he who answered.
“Yeah, we stayed cool. Are you?”
“Yeah, they pushed around a bit though, geez,” she complained, running a hand through her hair. “What do you think happened?”
“Good question, I don’t know.”
You didn’t hear anything anymore, you were just staring up at him as he talked. Good question. You had no idea either. What happened? Did you really just kiss—
“Listen, if you’re bummed out, that’s okay,” Juhyun shouted above the music, pressing your arm gently. She looked concerned and you tried a smile.
You could guess you looked as befuddled as you felt, “Yeah, I kind of— But I’m your driver!” You shouted instead, remembering your responsibility with a firm shake of your head.
“It’s okay, we’ll catch a taxi!” She shouted with a nod. She knew you were usually anxious; something unnerving like that was surely too much for you. “I’m just worried about you going alone!”
“I’ll go with her,” Namjoon nodded, unwavering, and before you got to say something, Juhyun agreed.
“Take care, text me when you’re home,” she asked you, squeezing your hand once.
You were frowning, about to suggest staying a bit more so you could take her home too when a firmer hand replaced hers. Namjoon returned your gaze, said a quick goodbye with a wave to everyone else, and then pulled you behind him as he made your way out.
Your mind slowly got back on track with every step you took. His hand was firmly wrapped around yours, and despite his wide shoulders in front of you, sheltering you from the chaos, your anxiety guided your thoughts back to the surface with a forced gasp.
What were you doing? Maybe this would turn awkward. You and Namjoon had been good friends for years, you had always counted on him. Maybe that was a mistake, maybe he would be uncomfortable around you now. You didn’t want things to change, you didn’t want to lose his joyful grins, relaxing bicycle rides, and long quiet reading sessions back at his place.
You bowed as you took your coat at the reception and put it on before stepping out into the cold. He was no longer holding your hand, which was holding the coat’s collar to your neck instead. You swallowed and looked down, freezing atop the stairs while you ran by the options and he stepped down ahead of you. You don’t have to leave earlier because of me. I can get home safely by myself. I’m sorry if that was awkward, I—
“Where’s your car?”
You sucked in a breath and told him before turning to walk intently as quickly as possible. The cold was rough on your cheeks, despite the big round lenses of your eyeglasses. You gritted your teeth not to quiver as you stepped carefully over the slippery sidewalk.
When you got to your car, you got in quickly and turned it on to give it time to warm up a bit. Namjoon had followed you inside in silence and was so quiet that his presence could have been buried under your anxiety.
You brushed your flushed cheeks and tried pulling your long hair free, realizing it was trapped between your blouse and the coat. You were so used to having braids that you forgot you needed to tend to your hair properly whenever you put your coat on and now you were stiff and stuck and—
“Easy,” he rasped, reaching to help you and you froze. You glanced up at him and stayed still as he alleviated the tension of the fabric over your shoulders to gently pull your hair out before leaning to repeat the same action on the other side. By then your eyes had lowered to his hands. The way he was handling your dark threads of hair as if it was the most precious silk, worthy of care and attention. “There.”
Your eyes jumped up in time to see him leaning back, a perfectly blank expression making your chest pang in nervousness. You were overthinking again.
“Thanks!” You squeaked, clearing your voice immediately as you leaned forward to reach the GPS screen, “Now, to Joonie’s…”
The drive was easier than you thought it would be. He commented on the cold, and then on what happened at the bar. He had never seen something like that at a bar, only at festivals or concerts. He wondered if the whole street had a power outage or if it was just that room. You mused that if it had been more than just the room, you’d surely hear about it in the news. 
And just like that the car became quiet. Seoul always had traffic, even at 2:52 AM, it was nothing new. So while you comfortably focused on taking him home safely, your thoughts wandered elsewhere.
His lips were the softest thing you had ever touched in your life. Just the delicateness with which you had kissed, you didn’t think you had it in you. Weren’t kisses supposed to be messy? Powerful and passionate? Then how had you touched the pillowy clouds above?
Just remembering it had your guts burning in excitement, and you pressed your lips. Were you making any sense? But you had really done that; hiddenly in the dark, yes, but really. You had acted on your instinct for the first time and gotten a glimpse of the sky. 
You wondered why now. Your friendship was old and comfortable, and he had always been a gentleman, protective but never overbearing. You thought he saw you as a colleague initially and then a friend with similar tastes. You pressed your lips right as you stopped the car in front of his apartment building. One glance at him and you knew that was the same old Namjoon you were used to. Maybe you had dreamed it. Maybe it was supposed to stay a dream.
“Would you like to come up?”
Your eyes jumped and widened, the shock as evident in your expression as a flashing billboard sign.
“I finished the new Murakami,” he continued swiftly, “so you can take it if you want. Or any other book.”
Your lips instantly twitched into a smile, “You finally finished it, then.”
He smirked as you turned off the engine and reached to get your bag, “Finally. You know how I am with his books.”
You nodded and got out of the car, the negative temperature clashing with your blushing cheeks. Yet you only smiled, locked the car, and teased him while you both went inside. Even the ride up the elevator was lighter; you two were back to your eased friendship where you got to poke fun at his annoyance with the repetitiveness of Murakami’s plotlines while enjoying every other detailed introspection he had to offer.
So when you passed the threshold of his apartment, you were as always. You both got your shoes off, though you kept your coat because you weren’t going to stay long. He offered you a drink despite you insisting that it was a quick visit, and as he disappeared into the kitchen to see what he could offer, you beelined to his reading corner.
That space always brought a smile to your face and comfort to your heart. That corner of the living room had a bookshelf from floor to ceiling separated by squared compartments that combined books and small plant pots in a myriad of colors. His most cherished one, however, was the bonsai on the small table next to the gray reading chair and ottoman. He'd let you take up the chair whenever you would read or work at his place, with him preferring the couch so he could stretch his legs more comfortably. You preferred the reading chair because the setting was a mood changer for you and you could use the different shelves to place your open books, especially when designing or writing ideas. Each square was organized in a particular way: some by authors, others by category, or type of work.
“I don’t have much,” you could hear him returning to you. “But I can make tea.”
You shook your head while you crouched, taking a look at your favorite section, “It’s okay, I won’t stay long. Where’s the Murakami?”
“Right here,” his voice sounded from above your head, and you glanced up to see him towering over you, reaching for the book lying by the ledge on the appropriate shelf. He eyed you and you smirked, pushing your eyeglasses up your nose bridge before looking back down. The corners of his lips twitched as he gripped the book inside his hands; he knew you were just happily skimming through your favorite shelf, and that wasn’t the issue. You weren’t the issue, you were— He took a deep shaky breath, “Oh, right, I have another one.”
He placed the Murakami book on the small table and left your side in the direction of his bedroom, you noticed. You pressed your lips and got up, grabbing the book he was holding just now. Blood was rushing to your cheeks and you took a short breath to ease yourself. You were there just to grab that book. You were alone at Namjoon’s, and that had happened hundreds of times before. Not that you had ever kissed before, but you could be cool. It was in the dark anyway. Conceptually, if you were thinking of the outline of a music video, that meant it was a secret. You could keep a secret. You could pretend it never happened.
Overhearing his steps pulled you from the depths of your thoughts to check what he had in his hands.
“Here,” he grinned, showing it to you. 
It was a book and you gasped before you grabbed it. The cover had the digital drawing of a little girl on her bed, not lying down, but facing the wall behind her that had become an ocean with sparkling rays floating above. The title read, ‘Windows to Worlds: The Art of Devin Elle Kurtz’. You thought the name rang a bell as you opened and skimmed through it. 
“I thought of you,” he smiled, dimples sinking sweetly into his cheeks at your interested demeanor.
“Woah, her use of color and lighting looks absolutely astounding,” you breathed, alternating between gasping and stopping your breath altogether with each new page.
“I’m glad you like it.”
“But why did you get it?” You finally caught up, looking up at him. “Because I was struggling with lighting?”
Your tone was appreciative and almost savvy as if you knew you had guessed his intent correctly. Yet he shook his head once, “Because of the braids.”
You lowered your eyes to the cover again and indeed, the little girl had two braids, much like you usually sported. You smiled, “Do you think she has eyeglasses too?”
“Maybe,” he acceded, nodding with ease.
You looked back down at the cover — the girl had her palms against the glass as if she was staring into a new magical world. It brought warmth to your chest. Not just because it was beautiful or because it was going to help you, but because Namjoon saw some of it in you.
You pressed the books to your chest, facing him to thank him when your smile fell. His expression had lost some of its casualness and you were immediately flooded with apprehension.
“Are we going to talk about it?”
His tone was so gentle it brought tears to your eyes. It was Namjoon. All of it, all of your doubts and anxiety were about one of the most important people in your life. Who cared how you might have felt; you absolutely could not jeopardize your friendship.
“I’m sorry,” you breathed so sincerely your voice shook.
“Oh.”
“I… It was…”
Your gaze was on the floor around his feet on the white carpet as you tried to find words. You half expected him to move or make things less awkward with his spirited humor, but he waited.
So you said what came to mind, “An accident. Right? It was an accident,” you repeated, ignoring the heat making your eyeglasses fog ever so slightly. “It was dark and…”
You sucked in a breath and pushed your eyeglasses up your nose bridge to soothe yourself, and froze when he nodded slowly.
“I… can’t call it an accident.”
Your eyes widened impossibly, “But— But then— I mean,” you blinked, “that would mean…”
You were just stammering and he smiled, “Yes. I don’t just— I wouldn’t just—” He smirked, scratching the back of his head, “I’d be lying if I said—”
His voice got caught inside his throat. You were looking up at him with eyes so big he feared they’d pop or something. He thought he was ready to talk about it and get it out in the open but— Were you even breathing?
“You know what? Never mind,” he shrugged, with a smile that pressed his plush lips too thin.
Your eyes widened even more, “No—” You almost choked from your impulse and instinctively stepped back, and everything went dark.
You held your breath as if you had been caught in a trap. You could have been back at the club, but there was no crowd, no fear, and no pressure. There was light still shining from his bedroom, reassuringly outlining his silhouette. You were safe, just like then. And it formed the words out of your mouth.
“I can't call it an accident either,” you confessed, and instantly your shoulders relaxed. He didn’t move and you couldn’t see him, but you knew him. You knew of his presence and the way he would never judge or hurt you. “I kissed you back.”
The silence continued between you but you found comfort in it. It was as though you had time to process, to put yourself back in your shoes moments earlier when exactly like that, in the dark, you let something from deep within surface.
“I was… curious,” you voiced quietly.
“Curious?”
“What would you… feel like? How would you…” you were getting lost and closed your eyes. You could almost feel him again, his warmth, his scent, the firmness of his arms around you, helping you levitate safely into the clouds. Your eyes opened at the sound of a footstep and you instantly flushed, “I mean, I— I’m sorry, I—”
“No, don't say sorry.” His outline drew closer until he stopped right in front of you. “You were curious about that?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
Why was your heart racing so fast? You were so hot that you knew for a fact your eyeglasses were fogging, despite not being able to see it. You swallowed and fanned your face a little, self-conscious about your hands becoming sweaty and dirtying the books.
Yet as you tried to calm down, you realized silence was stretching. He was waiting, of course, gentlemanly as he was. And you were embarrassed but in the dark, you also wanted to be brave.
“I liked it.”
You left it there, your sincere answer to his question. Your heart was thrumming wildly but you were not half as nervous as you thought you’d be.
“I liked it too.”
Your breath caught as you looked up despite barely seeing a silhouette. What?
“Would you do it again?”
“Now?” Your voice pitched.
“Yes.”
“Yes?” Your tone was inquisitive, but it was more out of shock that he said yes. You were heating up so much you didn’t think you were processing thoughts logically, and you weren’t. Your head was blank, “Yes.”
It felt like an eternity, but you knew that wasn’t true. You were just too eager to see what happened next, to feel him again and check if your head would be caught spinning as you floated away to the clouds again.
The books in your hands disappeared quickly, only the sound of them hitting the table told you their fate, and not that you cared. His breath was fanning your face and your head instantly fell back, tapping the wall as your lips parted and you waited for what you wanted most.
When it didn’t instantly come, you had no issues soothing his hesitation by guiding his hands to your jaw. You wanted him to know where you were; exactly there, between the wall and his safe embrace, waiting. 
Finally, his breath was so close it fully stopped when your lips locked together in a feather-like touch, and you moved. You pressed yourself closer, brushing his lips so you’d match completely. Your mouth dove into a sweeter taste, fingers tracing up his neck tentatively to grasp that feeling. And he let you, falling in with you, leaning into you as far as you’d let him.
Your lips parted in an invitation that he took promptly, leaving a wet trace on your bottom lip before he committed. You sighed into his mouth, gripping his shirt to pull him closer. He could reach into you and all around you; you were falling. There was an expanse behind and all around you and it reminded you of free falling; it was probably what skydiving felt like. Only you weren’t nearing the ground but going further from it. That sky was about to catch you; a sweet, soft, endearing sky about to clasp you affectionately and carry you into a dream.
You only stopped because he pulled back, kissing the tip of your nose before pressing his lips to your cheek. It was when you noticed that you two fit together like puzzle pieces, with your fingers buried in the nape of his neck, his into your lower back, your breaths mixing as your legs intertwined.
His breath was heavy against your warm cheek, “This can stay here. In the dark. If you want.”
You were too far to recognize the concern in his voice, “Is that what you want?”
“No,” his reply was instant, a subtle shake of his head as his lips dragged over your heated skin. “No, I'm curious about way more than this.”
You opened your eyes, eager to see in him what he meant, but the darkness hid his expression. It protected you, yes, but now, it made you uneasy. There was a moment when it had soothed your fears, maybe even made you brave, but now it was enough.
“Would turning the light on bother you?”
You felt his smile before he pulled away, “Not at all.”
His hands were still supporting your waist as you felt the wall behind you until you flipped the switch. You shut your eyes instantly with a grimace and knew he had done the same.
“Sorry,” you whispered.
You couldn’t see it, but he smirked, “I told you you could.”
His eyes opened first, eager to bypass the sudden sensibility so he could look at you as soon as possible. Your eyes and nose were still scrunched, your eyeglasses had fallen lower on your nose than you liked normally, and the top of your cheeks was beautifully blushed. He didn’t resist cupping your cheek to brush his thumb over the red hue and your eyes opened, looking up at him over your eyeglasses. You were so close to each other but you couldn’t look or move away.
“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed, eyes set on yours as if he were seeing stars.
“How can you see anything, we’re so close,” you whined with a huff.
He chuckled, “Yeah?”
You pouted; your eyeglasses were falling down your nose bridge again, and he grinned. He was so unbelievably happy right now, and as you pressed the eyeglasses further up, he wished it would never end.
“Is it…” you were quiet, “better like this?”
“Much better,” he assured confidently, looking into your eyes intently. 
Every time you blinked, wherever you glanced, he kept his cool and tried holding his fear in check — what if you suddenly pushed him away, became uneasy, or regretted this? 
Yet your eyes fixed on his as your hand returned gently to the side of his neck, “You said… you’re curious about more?”
He couldn’t breathe, “Yes.”
“What… does that mean?”
Your voice was a thread and he swore he became dizzy, “You. I—” His lips twitched as he found words, “I want to be with you.”
He settled on that simple fact and shushed his racing heart. It was too soon to confess how long he had been thinking about this, how far he had fallen, and how deeply sure he was that there was no one else he wanted. Nowhere else he wanted to go, no other person who could be home, no other soul he wanted to share his time with. Shit, this was not the time for a love confession.
“Not in the dark,” you mused, thinking back. “But here,” you searched his eyes with a light line between your eyebrows. “Do you want that? To be… a moment of—”
“No,” he interrupted firmly, making sure that every point you touched each other conveyed that. “I want more than a moment, than one night, than a place, than— No,” he breathed. “I want so much more.”
You weren’t sure there was any reaction you could have given because you were floating again. His arms were around you, his mouth speaking words you had long wished to hear, and you waited. It felt like the right thing to do; you just waited for him to become so much more.
“And you?” He asked after waiting to hear your thoughts. “How far would you take this?”
You almost choked with your instant answer, “All the way.”
His eyebrows jumped before his expression scrunched into a rapturous smile, and you filled your chest with air. You needed it, you needed a big deep breath before the dive. When his forehead touched yours, you stayed close, eyes half-hooding, waiting, and ready. You had been ready for a while, all there was left to do now was fly.
You were waiting for his kiss when he grabbed your head, both of you eager and gentle in your grip on the other. His lips were as soft as before but now he was pressing harder, searching for something in the depths of your kiss, and you met him halfway. There was the passion you had thought of before, making your skin pucker as your breathing dragged. It was curious how you were so focused on every little detail of his — his jawline moving under your fingertips, the soft skin at the column of his neck, his wide shoulders where your arms found support to press him closer to you — but had no actual thoughts. Every brush of his lips had you sinking further, every lick of his tongue had you immersed until his hands were pulling you to him and barely letting you touch the ground.
When your feet did touch the ground you lost your balance a little and inadvertently fell into him, which had him feeling behind him to make sure he could sit down. Your lips parted and he looked up at you, hands supportive but not pressuring you. He waited for you to decide if you’d follow him or not, and you didn’t hesitate. You raised a knee to his outer thigh and he instantly supported it, helping you to straddle him effortlessly before he leaned back into the reading chair.
You towered over him a little bit and as he hugged you close, you couldn’t help remembering how many times you had sat in that same chair just to read. Now he was there with you, under you, kissing your neck gently, and you kissed his head with the excitement bubbling under your skin. This was really happening, you could barely contain yourself.
He pressed you to sit closer to him and you guided him to look up just so you could dive into his kiss again. His skin was so soft, his touch so gentle as he let you steer your mouths until your head started spinning. You went deeper with every kiss, and with every sparkle, you became daring. Your fingers laced around his hair, your breaths one and the same as your hips moved on their own accord to fuse you two in any way possible. Your instinct was taking over, regardless of how you ground against him or leaned into him as if it would merge you two together.
You were hot and breathless when you felt a hint of his fingertips brushing the skin at your lower back, and instinctively you pulled back. He looked up at you, instantly wary of mistakenly crossing a line, but in a rustle of clothes, your blouse went up and away, thrown on the floor.
You faced him then, the goosebumps forming on your skin wherever his fingertips brushed your back as you seemed to exude heat. Not even for a moment did you wonder if you were going too far, despite being in a bra only in front of him. Rather you eyed his shirt and pouted, and he got it; in a second it was gone too.
Your lips twitched as you stroked down his neck, over his clavicles, and to his wide shoulders. You knew he’d be perfect, you knew you’d go well beyond liking every inch of him, but reality was far sweeter than your imagination. Before you could lean in and kiss every inch, he beat you to it. His pillowy lips grazed over the expanse of your neck before lowering down your chest and you sank your nails on his shoulders. It was the lightness of his touch, the warmth of his breath contrasting with his tongue as he explored everything until he dared lower. He moved slowly, maybe hesitated, and your hand darting to the back of his head to support him eased him.
He kissed and nuzzled every inch of your chest then settled over your sternum, breathing you in between your breasts just above the center gore. You knew why he stopped, but you were riding the shivers and throbs his every breath drew out of you, and you didn’t want it to stop. You reached behind you and unclasped the bra, letting the straps slide off your arms while you held his gaze. Yes, you wanted to do this. Yes, you wanted him to touch you, to know how he—
His hands over your waist raised to cup your breasts and rub your nipples and you shivered, goosebumps covering you from head to toe. The more he brushed over the hardened tips, the less control you had over a deep whine wanting to escape your lips.
You were biting your lip in this sweet struggle when he glanced up at you before leaning in to take one inside his mouth, and you whined. Your hips bucked over him, drawing closer while your cries grew and expanded with every lick of his tongue. You were grinding hard on him now, unaware of how unruly you were being. Your cries just needed to be heard, your hunger satiated as you searched for friction and wondered why it wasn’t as intense as it should be.
Your chest was wet by the time he parted his mouth from the delicate skin, but you didn’t have time to think about it. His hands gripped your hips to press you closer, and you jumped out of his arms in a mix of outrage and eagerness. 
So that was why you couldn’t feel him properly, you concluded, as you unbuttoned your jeans. Of course, how stupid. At least it was easily fixed.
You only stopped when your clothes hit the floor. His eyes locked with yours and you hesitated. You were totally naked in your eagerness, maybe you were going too fast. But his hands guiding yours to his shoulders before he leaned in to kiss over your tummy made you realize you were being silly. His eyes were glistening, looking up at you before closing to enjoy the taste of your skin, his cheeks were red, and despite his pants, the tent was very visible. 
You wanted to be close so you raised your knee again, and once more he guided you to straddle him. He kissed quickly up your chest before eying your mouth, and you obliged. Kissing him like this was more vulnerable, open, and raw, but you wanted to. His fingertips stroked your sides softly downwards and you sighed into his mouth, gripping him closer. You wanted so much more.
His hands settled atop your hips and it made you whine and wiggle so they would move. It didn’t occur to you to separate your mouths and tell him to touch you; in fact, no thoughts were occurring to you. He seemed to hesitate on where to go while palming your hips, and in the end, it was your hand that guided him to where you wanted him. You froze amidst your kiss, mouth agape as your eyes opened when his fingers skimmed your sex. A shiver ran down your spine, your breath halting as you waited for him. His eyes were set on you, carefully taking in your expression as he dared to brush lower, exploring down your mound, around your hooded clit, and gently over your folds before retracing his steps.
A strangled quiet moan had you closing your eyes to get lost. His fingers were drawing circles over your clit, ever so gently, prodding how to please you without hurting you, and you sank your nails into the back of his neck. You could worship that man now — it was all you knew as you looked at him between half-hooded eyes. Every circle brought a spark, a throb, a buck of your hips until the tension inside you made you jump away from his touch. You kissed him hard then, grabbing his head desperately — you wanted him, not just his hand.
You reached between your bodies to cup his bulge and he choked in your kiss. You pressed harder, too curious to let him breathe or get away, and searched for a way to open his pants, but it was difficult without looking. Fortunately, he understood perfectly what you wanted and got to it.
He raised you off his lap for the single moment it took him to squirm and slide his clothes down his legs before settling you over him again. His skin was burning hot against your inner thighs and as you kissed him, you imagined it was because he wanted you the same way.
You reached again for him and this time there were no barriers. You felt his hard length gently, caressing its soft skin carefully before stroking him against your palm.
He grunted into your cheek; your lips had parted so you both could focus on those new sensations. Something wet was making it easier to stroke him and press the head gently, with every movement earning you something, whether a groan, a sigh, a twitch of his fingers over your hips, or more precum.
You loved seeing and hearing every reaction, but you didn’t want to wait. You were tense and overheating, and that hard cock in your hand belonged somewhere else.
You moved on your knees to straddle him closer, positioning yourself with nothing but the intention to feel him, but you paused. Before the sight of the pink swollen tip at your entrance could steal your logic, you looked at him with an implied question. He nodded with glistening eyes, hands gripping a bit more of your ass to convey just how much he wanted this. And so you leaned to touch your foreheads before you guided him inside you.
You were unbelievably wet but still, it took a moment for him to become coated enough to slide in without any attrition. It felt like a trial and error; every time you tried sitting lower, there was resistance, and so you raised yourself and tried again. And again and again, with his fingers sinking into your skin as he hid his scrunched-up expression. Your eyebrows were knitted too, especially when he hit a particular spot, and soon he bottomed out.
You wiggled a little to make room, your tension gripping him inside you so hard that both of you groaned. You bucked your hips over him and sighed before reaching back, taking support on his legs. The hunger in his glistening eyes as he observed you taking your pleasure from him was like straight out of a dream, except he was really there, stretching you to the edge, bubbling a tension up your spine so good you knew you wouldn’t last a minute.
So you leaned forward again, palming the expanse of his chest as you let the fluttering subside for a bit. A smile bloomed on your lips as he reached to kiss your skin, supporting you closely while he grazed up your neck. Yet as it had blossomed, your smile faded when your eyebrows knitted further and your pleasure sunk in your gut. He had taken a firmer grip of you and used his leverage to thrust his hips up and into you, successfully crumbling whatever excuse of a restraint you had.
You moaned unreservedly and as he pulled away to face you without relenting, you met him with glistening eyes. It wasn’t a betrayal but because of him, you couldn’t hold back. He understood; he told you with a nod as he tried keeping the rhythm steady for you. So you hugged him to you and let the pleasure spike once, twice, until a moan burst out of you with the knot in your lower gut releasing the tension.
However long it lasted, it was long. It left you powerless and radiating heat like a furnace, only he was even hotter than you. He was sweaty under your arms and legs as you embraced him, and it mixed with your wetness and cum, but you didn’t care.
He waited for you to pull away and kiss his humid forehead before he asked, “Can I take you to bed?”
“Yes,” you sighed, still up high in your haze.
He could tell how languid you were so he picked you up carefully, hugging your legs around his waist and supporting your lower back. His heart was racing as he carried you, not because he was afraid of dropping you — no way in hell that would ever happen — but because this was really happening. He was really carrying your naked body across his apartment, your sweaty bodies pressed together after you reached your pleasure in his arms only for him to take you to bed and continue to show you how much he cared for you. He sighted the bed when your limbs squeezed him more firmly and he smiled from ear to ear. It was like carrying a koala bear who didn’t want to let go of him, and he loved that.
He sat on the bed with you on his lap before carefully supporting your back so he could lay you down gently while hovering over you and you finally blinked. 
Your senses were coming back; Namjoon was over you, caging you between his biceps while your legs laced around him. He was inside you, and even if you had forgotten, he reminded you when he moved tentatively. Your eyes were set on his, and that was how you saw the concern crossing them, and you blinked again. You and him were connected like you had only ever dreamed, and it was good. You reached to cup his cheeks and guide his mouth to yours; you wanted him to know that. That you knew what you were doing, with whom, and how, and your heart was completely in it.
If he wasn’t kissing your lips, then he was pecking the tip of your nose, grazing your cheeks, or brushing down the column of your neck as his hips gained speed. You raised yours to feel him as deep as possible, and as you held onto him, you let the emotions flood you. The safety of his arms, the completeness as he filled up all the gaps, the nurture of every tender kiss, the shared warmth, tension, and torture of your bodies rocking together. You were meshed inextricably in an ascent that you had never dared to imagine, and you grabbed him even harder, in case the intensity had you floating away.
Your voice had a life of its own; every time he sank further into you, your soul expanded. Every time he buried himself inside you, your moan released into his ear, and over and over again as he hid in your neck, revering you in all the ways he could.
“You feel so good,” he rasped against your throat, and against all odds you heard it in between moans. Maybe because he was slowing down. He pulled away to face you so closely you saw him blurred despite your eyeglasses, “I don't want it to end.”
Your eyes widened and watered but no words came out in time; he pressed your lips sweetly and you buried your fingers in his hair, feeling your heart swelling with every beat. He restarted his hips, guided by your legs pressing him into you, and you thought that nothing else mattered than him knowing. You also didn’t want it to end, you wanted to stay with him forever, linked, safe, accepted, hidden from anything that wasn’t blissful peace, and happiness.
His hips snapping into yours brought groans, moans, and whines out of the both of you, with wet sloppy sounds echoing in the bedroom along with the slaps of skins colliding. It became fast, forcing you to wrap your limbs around him firmly to never miss any sensation he could give you until you tensed unbelievably.
You surrendered to your climax immediately, letting it wash over you as you throbbed and reveled in scream-inducing spasms. He grunted and swore into your neck, but to your surprise, he didn’t come with you. On the contrary, suddenly you could feel his intent to pull out so you crossed your legs behind him and searched for his ear so you could tell him, “Inside me. Stay inside me.”
He groaned and you rocked with him, keen on extending both your pleasure as much as possible when he twitched inside you. You closed your eyes and his lips immediately caught yours. He kissed you with every peak, groaning into your mouth at every turn, making you shudder.
He stilled and you kept petting his damp hair at the back of his head, slowly waiting for both your hearts to calm down. You couldn’t believe what just happened yet at the same time it was as natural as breathing.
Finally, he moved from the crook of your neck and faced you. A single drop of sweat dripped along his nose to the tip and you caught it with your fingertip. He nuzzled you then, recovering his breath with a tender smile, and you smiled back.
673 notes · View notes
httpsserene · 8 months ago
Note
Gosh please please please can you write something daniel x reader maybe inspired by too sweet by hozier when he thinks(some internal turmoil cuz he can't stay away from her) she's too sweet/innocent for him or something like but it turns out to be further from the truth?? I love love love your writing, i think about please's and thank you's at least three times a day since i read it. You're so immensely talented!!!
I'd really really appreciate it.
(i don't mind age gap(like up to 10years), some kinky smut or even a bit of morally grey characters as long as there are no explicit mentions of past relationships or cheating and etc., happy ending plss, and I won't mind if you add a pinch of "who did this to you")
Ly ly ly
𝖍𝖙𝖙𝖕𝖘𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖊'𝖘 2𝕶 𝕾𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖑 | 𝕿𝖍�� 𝕯𝖆𝖓𝖎𝖊𝖑 𝕽𝖎𝖈𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖗𝖉𝖔 𝕰𝖉𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓
Tumblr media
𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐝𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐯𝐞: 𝐓𝐒𝐀
Summary: She’s too pure for him. She hasn’t been damaged by life like he has and he hopes you never will be. So, that’s why Daniel can never allow himself to be with her. He knows she’s convinced herself that she can fix him, but he knows that the longer he sticks around, the more he’s ruining her. He finds it cynical: their relationship (or lack of a relationship) reads like one of the books she’s obsessed with: right person wrong time or forbidden love. Daniel learns that it might be a little darker of a trope—like one of her books that she never allows him to see a page of. Content Warning: 18+ only. mdni. implied sexual content. mild!yandere!reader. stalking. sabotage. angst with a happy ending. lando and max are here. not edited at all. mentioned alcoholism. pov switch. fights? idk danny gets his ass beat. possessive!reader. can you find the hozier inspo in here? probably. Pairing: daniel ricciardo x fem!reader (black-coded? but not mentioned in the fic, i think) Word Count: 2.7k words.
Author’s Notes: okay! this is past me (6/11) hoping that the tumblr queue doesn’t do me dirty! this should be posted on thursday, because i won’t be able to manually post it on my own as i’ll be hiking in san diego the whole day :p
this was formatted on mobile so please ignore how ugly it looks :( and also ignore the ugly writing i’ve never written dark/morally gray characters so i’m pretty sure i did your request like terribly LMAO. um also i couldn’t find a way to write smut into it? so again i apologize for that :/
anyways, please bare with me. i’ll make it pretty when i get back to my computer…on sunday 🥴
Tumblr media
prev 2k special join taglist feedback & requests table of contents next ↻
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Daniel meets you in the elevator. At first, he thought you were a Formula One fan who snuck into the condo trying to get a glimpse of your favorite driver (himself, obviously) but, he learned that you’re his new next-door neighbor. It was awkward; he accused you of following him to his room and felt like the world’s worst person when you—dressed in the cutest pink dress and matching flowy bow tied in your hair—stared at him terrified, before you unlocked the door to your flat and slammed the door behind you quickly without a word.
He sent you a bouquet of pink orchids the next morning, along with a hand written card apologizing for his rude behavior and that he hoped the two of you could become good neighbors and friends. It seemed all was fixed, as the next time he ran into you, you greeted him softly, like nothing had happened. It was 5 A.M: you were starting your day and Daniel was ending his night.
Daniel was on his third drunken attempt of shoving his key vaguely in the direction of his lock on the door, when you exited your flat with a yoga mat over your shoulder and a water bottle that was comically large. With a hushed ‘good morning,’ you kindly helped Daniel into his apartment, telling him to drink a big glass of water and have pain killers ready when he wakes up; there was no judgment in your wide brown eyes, only tenderness, and a slight hint of worry. He woke up after twelve at the sound of a knock, his head pulsing with pressure and his sight slightly blurry from not quite sleeping all the drunk away.
He eventually made it to his front door and found that you ordered him lunch: a chicken wrap and sweet potato chips, from one of his favorite brunch cafés—Daniel figured you have good taste, as he doesn’t recall ever telling you about this meal in either of the two interactions you’ve had. So, he ate, drank plenty of water, freshened up, and debated if he should go over and express his gratitude, or whatever. He decided he will, and found himself putting on a nice watch and a few too many sprays of his expensive smelling cologne. Daniel didn’t let any thoughts of why he was prettying himself up cross his mind; he’s simply thanking you; a girl far too young, and probably far too sweet for his tastes.
You brushed off his thanks shyly, hidden behind your door with a blush strong enough Daniel saw it paint your dimpled cheeks and he knew he wouldn’t be able to stay away. Thinking quick enough to rival his reflexes, he offered to exchange phone numbers so the two of you could meet up and he could buy you a coffee. You entered your name in his phone with a yellow heart next to it.
The coffee meet-up had to wait due to Daniel’s hectic schedule, yet the texting flourished. He initiated the beginning of your text thread the next day, mindlessly texting you about how he overheard Emilio (another neighbor) arguing with his wife on the phone; Daniel said she’s probably going to mail him divorce papers within the next week. You replied that it was mean to eavesdrop and gossip. Daniel followed up saying it’s not eavesdropping if said person was screaming into his phone in the hallway, and he wasn’t gossiping, he’s merely keeping you informed.
Daniel laughed in the middle of his motorhome listening to the voice message you sent four days later, eagerly telling him about how you saw Emilio in the lobby with a couple boxes and without a wedding ring on his finger.
It was a warm morning, when you and Daniel finally managed to meet for coffee. You scrunched your nose in distaste when he ordered plain black coffee; Daniel did the same when you ordered a drink that was mainly milk and sugar. Daniel chuckled when you claimed the amount of coffee in your drink had you wired for the rest of the day. He decided to let you believe that, and not inform you that it was most likely the sugar content that had you crashing hours later.
Daniel invited you over for burgers one night and you comment that his home looks like a mix of a “mojo dojo casa house” and a “minimalistic hell.” You gifted him a throw blanket and a potted plant the next day, and continued to text him reminders about watering it.
Around 10 P.M. on another night, he’s yelling at Max for cheating at fifa. Max laughed around the lip of his beer bottle before the two of them paused at the sound of a knock. Daniel checked the door and opened it to see you: fuzzy slippers, eye-mask on your forehead, bonnet, matching pajama set, and pout on your lips with a sleepy tilt to your eyebrows. He apologized for the noise and promised to quiet down. Daniel threatened to kick the Dutchman out when he teased him for having a “crush.” He doesn’t get crushes, he’s a grown man.
Daniel spends less time in night clubs and more time with you. You took him to sip and paint nights, pottery classes, hiking, even bookstores. You order him to not open any of the books he’s holding for you; Daniel tries to take a peek when you scan through one and you slam the book shut, saying it’s too dark for your liking. He doesn’t comment when you end up getting it (Daniel paid).
He kissed you in your apartment, halfway through Howl’s Moving Castle. He proceeded to tell you it was a mistake. You teared up when he said you were too pure for him, arguing back that you weren’t a child. The tears fell when Daniel claimed he’s too old for you, that he’d only hurt you. He returned to his apartment, figurative tail tucked between his legs, and heard you crying through the wall. He fell asleep hating himself.
Daniel distanced himself from you; he misses your shared adventures and condo gossip, but he never forgets to water your potted plant, even without your texts. He fell back into the clubs, bringing home various women but never manages to get them in bed due to various things going wrong. He gets stuck in the elevator with Stephanie who happened to claustrophobic for hours, locked in the stairwell with Sofia who sprains her ankle in five-inch heels, the fire-alarm interrupts him and Kiana just as he unlocks the door, and his kitchen sink burst when he lifted Laura on the counter.
He tries to console Laura, who runs from his flat in drenched clothes, and sees you staring at her in confusion from your doorway as she rushes past. Daniel apologizes for waking you again, and you shrug, ignoring his words, murmuring that he should call maintenance before he floods the entire floor and shutting your door in his face.
Your potted plant starts to wilt, no matter if Daniel moves it in or out of direct sunlight, if he waters it less or more, or if he changes the soil, or adds fertilizer. The universe has it out for Daniel.
He finds himself in an ultra-private lounge, dim-lighting, sultry piano, and dark decor enhancing his dramatics as he reveals how he ruined his life to Max, Lando, and the bartender who will be tipped handsomely for pretending to care. The piano fades to the end of the piece just as Daniel wraps up his lament.
“It sounds like you deserve it, honestly,” Max stated bluntly, Lando nodding agreeably at his side.
Daniel groans into his hands, lifting his head to say that he’s already aware of that, but freezes when he sees you rise from the seat of the piano. Your figure is snug within a floor length, backless, black dress, complemented with gold jewelry, and makeup that opposes your angelic nature. You bow your head slightly in the direction of the tables clapping at your performance, stumbling briefly when your eyes meet Daniel’s. You smile softly and begin to make your way over to him.
“Oh, fuck,” Daniel shrinks into his seat, as the other two drivers stare at him in confusion.
“Hi, neighbor,” you start airily, before turning to smile at Lando and Max, “Hello.”
“You didn’t tell me you worked here,” Daniel mentions.
“You never asked,” you narrow your eyes at him, before relaxing, “I also don’t work here—this is my brother’s bar. The pianist suddenly fell sick and I offered to fill in.”
“Oh,” Daniel hums, “This doesn’t seem like your type of scene.”
You snort, rolling your eyes, “You should know better than to tell me where, what, or who I do or do not belong with.”
“Okay!” Lando claps, kicking Daniel’s shin under the table, everyone ignores his muffled groan of pain, “Sit with us for a minute, if you can take a break. Danny is seriously obsessed with you.”
You take the offered chair next to Max and sigh, “Really? I couldn’t tell,” all three men wince at your dig, but you continue, “Did he tell you that he almost flooded the entire floor last week?”
Daniel watches as you charm his friends, the three of you chattering happily over his demise, and ignoring him as you do so. He can’t find it in himself to be annoyed, only thankful, as this is the first time in weeks that you’ve been in his presence for more than five minutes. You smell so good. Is that weird of Daniel to think?
Unfortunately, the four of you are interrupted far too soon. Your brother calls you over from behind the bar; his expression is less than pleased, jaw tensed with irritation, and Daniel thinks the look in his eyes has a hint of crazy. He wonders if you told your brother about him. Hopefully not—the man looks like he could fold Daniel like a lawn chair without breaking a sweat. The three men watch as you argue with your brother; it doesn’t seem like it’s going in your favor.
Lando calls Daniel’s name, “Mate—she’s good for you.”
“Nah, mate. I’ll only ruin her.”
“Daniel,” Max scolds, “The few months you were ditching us for her were the happiest I’ve seen you. I wasn’t worried that you would be passed out in a random club or yacht after giving yourself alcohol poisoning.”
“She’s sweet, Danny. I think she’s exactly what you need,” Lando adds, “You've convinced yourself that you don’t deserve anything good. She’s trying to prove you wrong and you need to let her.”
He doesn’t answer verbally, he chooses to shake his head and remain silent. You make your way over to the table again and stand in front of them with a pout.
“It’s past my bedtime, apparently,” you huff, turning your head to glare at your brother, “Don’t worry about paying tonight, it’s on the house.” You exchange polite goodbyes with Lando and Max, Daniel gets a soft smile. He watches you leave the bar with a sad tilt to his lips, then orders a shot of whiskey.
You’re sat on your couch, freshly showered and ready for bed. It’s 1 A.M. and Daniel usually doesn’t end his nights out for another hour. So, it makes sense for you to be worried when you see his location nearing your shared condo building an hour early. Did you sneakily (his phone password is his birthday, it wasn’t that hard) use his phone and share his own location with you? Yes. But, you did it with good intentions. You worry about him when he’s not with you.
You decide to go down to the lobby and pretend to ask if you received any packages in hopes of intercepting Daniel when he walks in. You don’t manage to step out of the elevator when you suddenly have an armful of a bruised-up Australian. His lip is busted and you can see a bruise blooming high on his right cheekbone. You start to shake with anger.
Furiously pressing the button of your floor and slamming the ‘close door’ button, you frantically question Daniel, “What the hell? I left you not even two hours ago, and you look like a mess. Did you get into a fight, did you get mugged, did you—“
“Did your brother beat my ass for hurting you?” Daniel groans, not fighting your motions as you tug him out of the elevator and into your flat, “Yes, he did.”
You pause and grumble angrily, forcing Daniel to take a seat on your couch. You rush into your kitchen for ice, then to the bathroom for a first aid kit. He doesn’t fight when you order him to ice his cheek, and lets you hold his face to tilt his head at every angle possible, as if it’ll expose any more damage. Eventually, you end up looking into his eyes, pretending that you have the knowledge to know what a possible concussion looks like, even though you really just wanted an excuse to look at him.
Unconsciously, your thumb rubs soothingly along his temple, Daniel leans further into your hand. His tongue flicks out for a brief second, and he flinches when it disturbs the cut on his bottom lip. Blinking rapidly, you clear the haze from your eyes and frown as you turn to rifle through the first aid kit.
“I can’t believe he put his hands on you,” you bite out angrily, finding a disinfectant cloth to clean his lip, “I don’t know why I tell him anything anymore.”
Daniel winces at the sting of alcohol, remaining quiet as he watches the focus that covers your expression.
“I apologize for him,” you mumble, “He doesn’t think clearly when it comes to me, he thinks he’s like my guard dog or something,” you dispose of the wipe and grab an ointment, “I promise you I told him that the only thing you did was waste my time and hurt my feelings,” Daniel deflates under your hands, “It’s not like you physically hurt me…or anything. He’s just an idiot. I’ll kill him.”
At that, Daniel laughs quietly, dropping the ice from his cheek so you can clean that too, “Don’t say that. You’re such a sweetheart, you couldn’t hurt your own brother. Also—I’m not sure if he hoped this would make me stay away from you, because if you keep rubbing my face like that, I might fall in love.”
You hum, pleased you have him eating out of the palm of your hand, “Have some decorum, Daniel. You sound desperate. Also, he knows that I don’t like people touching what’s mine.”
“Oh? You’re possessive,” Daniel teases, “Is it bad if I kinda like that?”
Your heart flutters, he’s really the best for you. He doesn’t need to know about the lengths you went to ensure any of the girls he tried to bring home didn't make it into his bed. It's a shame Sofia sprained her ankle; that was not intentional on your part.
You shrug lightly, “No, it’s not bad. I think it makes you perfect for me. As long as you don’t mind a little crazy. And—don’t think you’re off the hook. You still have to apologize for making me cry.”
Daniel nods seriously, “I’ll fall to my knees and beg right now, if that’s what it takes.”
Sticking a plaster over his cheek, you stand and gesture for him to do so too, “Okay. Kneel.”
“Huh,” he chokes, eyes wide with disbelief, “You’re serious?”
“If you beg well enough, I’ll let you eat me out.”
The sound of his knees hitting the floor echoes.
2k special taglist: @saintslewis @cherry2stems @lorarri @inloveallthetime @barnestatic @my-ylenia @katekipshidze @darleneslane @mindless-rock @lovingaphroditesworld @smoothopz @vetteltea @tallrock35 @riveristhebest1 @iloveyou3000morgan @smartstupyd @spideybv28 @lh383 @hiireadstuff @namgification @gg-trini @whatamidoingwithmylife-random @multi-fandom-rando @dreamingofautopia @megatrilss1885 @nanamilkbread @userlandonorris @starfusionsworld @hangmandruigandmav @itsmiamalfoy @ineedafictionalman @everythingabby101 @valent1na-ferrari @dark-night-sky-99 @svinzlec @angelfreckless @sweatrevenge5436-blog @bokutos-babyowl @oliviah-25
Tumblr media
© httpsserene2024
426 notes · View notes
milksnake-tea · 1 month ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
✩ CHAPTER SUMMARY : The spar between you and Sunday goes in an unexpected direction - well, at least for Sunday. Life as a Hunter has taught you to almost always expect unexpected directions.
✩ SERIES SYNOPSIS : Following the catastrophe of the Charmony Festival, rather than in one of Penacony's hospitals or prisons, Sunday awakens right in the base of one of the most notorious criminals in the galaxies. With nowhere else to go, he's left to follow you, the Stellaron Hunters' medic, in his attempts to become accustomed to his new life.
✩ WORD COUNT : 6.5k
✩ TAGLIST : @felibrary, @vxnuslogy, @https-mika, @greyrain23, @red-ninja15, @arienic , @immahuman , @sund4ykisser , @mysteriaqueen , @kiopanxp , @isa-l0v3r , @hesper-houkai-kat , @gamekillera , @nayukiyukihira , @randomidk-123 , @universetrash , @forevernyeong , @thedepartedcryptid , @heyhazelnut101 , @1000-leaves , @lowkeyren , @zhayur , @jellofishuu , @kascar-chronicle , @azaleaflowerr , @neigee , @fallintothechasm , @veritusratio , @astolary , @xphantasmagoriax , @semi-orangeapple , @ezra1yn , @xynthevoid , @apinu , @crysangria , @shenwi , @louchive , @mave-in , @mutiachan , @meerpea , @fxngtasy , @emiken-070907 , @tragedy-of-commons , @boothills-usbport , @mikashisus , @lunaegrl , @cakechase , @keirenny , @romyoia , @bunnihunnii , @insomniac-hours ( TAGLIST IS CLOSED )
✩ ADDITIONAL NOTES : hey bitches. guess who's back. FUN FACT THIS BROKE THE IMG LIMIT FOR POSTS ON TUMBLR BYE I HAVE NO IDEA IF ITS GOING TO HOLD UP ON WATTPAD (probably not. sniffles) BUT OMLLLL I REALLY YAPPED TOO MUCH W THE CHATS.... ALSO !! CHAT MSG ICON FOR SUNDAY CREDIT GOES TO THE LOVELY BUNNYCARROT ON TWT. ALSO KNOWN AS MY REASON FOR LIVING. also howre we feeling abt sunday release. IK I WAS GONE THAT ENTIRE TIME HE WAS DRIP MARKETED AND EVERYTHING BUT IN MY DEFENSE. i had to rewrite the sparring scene like 5 different times and the chat msgs like 3 times. so. erm. yeah ALSO ILL GET TO THE ALT TEXTS TMRW I SWEAR ITS JUST MIDNIGHT RN AND IM SCARED (of my mom) AND TIRED
ADDITIONALLY, I'VE HIRED BETA READERS !!! SAY HELLO TO GWEN AKA @tragedy-of-commons , VICTORIA AKA @theother-victoria , VISARA AKA @rainswept , AND MHIE AKA @iceunhie. GO CHECK THEM OUT THEY WRITE TOO and more consistently too sneezes BUT YEAH THEY'RE GOING TO BE MY VICTIMS I MEAN TEAM TO WHICH I YAP AND HAVE THEM EDIT MY SHIT <333 LOVE YALL
<< previous || series masterlist || next chapter >>
Tumblr media
In and out.
Inhale through the nose.
Hold.
Exhale through the mouth.
Again.
Sunday closes his eyes and breathes. He adjusts his grip on his rapier, making sure that his grip is firm and that its tip points away from him. Alone in the training room, the silence is more than enough for him to think, and force away the voices the best he can.
He reaches, he calls, and he tunes into the very roots that govern the universe. The Imaginary Tree is life and reality itself. It illuminates, it breathes, and it grows. It curls around his fingers, and it gives. Life flows into his veins, strings of pure energy lying right beneath his fingertips, and he pulls.
Imaginary manifests in melodies and staffs, guided by his rapier and weaving into a somber song. He lifts his hand, drawing the sheets and forming the beginnings of a symphony.
His brow furrows.
Even now, with years of practice and honing his technique, there's something pulling at his chest, a strain on his halo that tells him that this is wrong. Even if the Tree accepts his call and responds in turn, he can never fully accept its embrace. It is suffocating, its hold, and it is oppressing.
It swallows him as though it were the Voracity, engulfing him in its jaws and consuming him, draining him of all that he is. It forces itself upon him - it eats away at him, and his breath is almost taken, almost snuffed, save for the small sliver of mercy that keeps him alive. It dominates the once carefully balanced conversation, and it commands him, trust me, accept me, join me, become me.
And Sunday has never been one to like being commanded.
A pleasant conversation morphs into a spiteful argument, a battle for the upper hand, venom dripping from each of their tongues as each tries to take control. As Sunday struggles against the roots, the orchestra becomes strained, the tempo becoming faster and faster, and all of the strings crescendo until it's loud, far too loud.
The strain in his mind transfers to the physical realm, and the staffs so carefully penned by his sword flicker and waver while his halo begins to glow in the effort to keep it all under control. His brow furrows and his movements become frenzied, frantic, until the Tree rebels yet again, and he's had enough.
Frustration flares and he brings down his hand and cuts off his connection with the Tree, tearing through the melody and ending the performance there. But then he realizes what he's done, and shame floods out his annoyance.
A sigh leaves him.
Losing his composure... how unbecoming of him. He forces himself to pay attention to his breath, and the hand that isn't holding the rapier curls into his palms, the familiar prick grounding him.
He should know better than to be so easily moved. He inhales deeply, raising his gaze to the ceiling, and exhales.
There we go.
If the orchestra won't obey, he will command them. They are forged from his very blood and tied to his veins. They are him, in a sense, and he will not stand for a civil war.
He raises his sword once more, and to the orchestra, he speaks - Again.
And this time, he leaves no room for argument.
His rapier is a guide and a scripture as Imaginary drips from it once again. With the orchestra in toe, he begins to move.
Combat to him is not unlike a dance, in which the participants are himself, his opponent, and his sword. He has learned the hard way that brute strength, as much as it would be useful, is not his forte (spending one's life asleep does wonders to their physical state), and so he must rely on precision and observation to gain the upper hand.
He steps, swiftly and with purpose, and the Tree is his partner. Wisps and streaks rise from where his feet had once touched the ground, and with every stab at a fictitious enemy, the Tree strikes with him in the form of diamond stars and sound waves. Sweat beads at the back of his neck and his hand trembles with the strain of keeping the Tree under control, but he stands firm nevertheless.
But then he hears a squeak - an awfully familiar squeak, belonging to a companion he hasn't seen since the fall - a companion that only appears on two conditions: if they are called upon, or if he is in danger.
And he didn't call upon anyone.
There's a tingle on the back of his neck, and he swerves and narrowly avoids a stab towards his eyes. His Echoes rush to his defense, swarming his assailant and driving them back in a storm of gold lights.
He hears his attacker splutter with surprised laughter as the Echoes bat at their face angrily, some even ramming into their sides with their heads or tugging at their clothes with what little strength they have. It takes him a second before he realizes just who his companions are attacking.
"Enough," he commands. The symphony dissolves as his rapier lowers and his other hand raises to placate the swarm. Immediately the Echoes retreat to his side, keeping their nonexistent eyes on the person before him, to which he lets out an exasperated sigh. "Was that really necessary?"
You bat away at one last belligerent Echo that was particularly keen on head-butting your cheek (it does absolutely no damage) before turning to him with that smile of yours.
"Just testing your reflexes, princess."
In your hand is the sword that nearly stole his sight. A thin taper of obsidian steel, it lies loosely in your grip. Veins of neon blood ran through its blade, its color far too bright for Sunday's liking.
But the hue seemed paler than from when you briefly fought with Blade; it isn't as acidic nor as blinding as back then, but it still unnerves him nevertheless.
You throw his Echoes a brief glance with a chuckle. "I've yet to see those before. Are they new?"
"No." Sunday shakes his head. He pets one with his finger to calm it down, as the majority were still baring their metaphorical teeth towards you. "For as long as I can remember, these little ones have been by my side. They're... rather protective."
"I can tell," you hum a laugh. Taking a step forward, you test your luck with the strange creatures. Many back away defensively as you approach, although one or two linger curiously. "Aw, aren't you the cutest?"
Sunday sighs as you pinch one of the Echoes. The doll unleashes a flurry of squeaks as you toy with it, stretching and squishing it like a stuffed animal while its siblings squeak furiously and swarm you again.
Reaching into the crowd, his arm parts the figurative sea and grabs you by the scruff of your neck. With a tug and a pointed look, he pulls you out of the mob's fury.
"Please refrain from teasing them, doctor," Sunday reprimands softly. "I'm afraid they can only take so much before they become overwhelmed with anger."
"How terrifying," you reply cheekily, shrugging off his grip. "But that's a tough request. Just look at them; can you really blame me?"
To further prove your point, you reach out and scratch a nearby Echo under where its chin should be, your smile widening as it struggles to decide between squeaking in indignation and purring in content. Eventually, however, it gives in and leans into your touch, vibrating happily as you scratch it.
After a few minutes of this, Sunday clears his throat. Last time he checked, you were here to spar, not play with his familiars, even if the sight was admittedly endearing.
You spare him a glance, he returns it with a pointed look and raised brows. Thankfully, you get the message and release the Echo without any objections.
Sunday glances to the Echo as it returns dazedly to his side. Raising his hand, he allows it to hover just above his palm.
A silent conversation unfolds between the two of them, with Sunday raising a brow and the Echo assuring him that it was fine - even if he can sense its content, it never hurts to make sure. His halo glows momentarily, before he lowers his hand and dismisses his familiars.
"Are you satisfied now?" he asks in mild amusement, turning back to you.
"Mhm," you hum with a smile, eyes still lingering on the spot where the Echo used to be. "How about you? Ready?"
Imaginary sparks on his rapier, but Sunday pays it little mind. "As ready as I can be, I suppose. But shouldn't you warm up?"
You shake your head. "It isn't necessary. You'll see when on your first mission: You have to be ready to fight at any time and place. Warming up is a luxury reserved for beginners and athletes."
And then, as if to prove your point, Sunday sees you move before a flash of black cuts through his vision, and only by instinct is Sunday able to dodge. Only this time, you don't stop with just one strike, no, it's one after the other and Sunday curses internally and meets you with his rapier.
If Blade is a raging torrent, then you are a lightning storm. You move with the speed and viciousness of a viper, never staying in one place for too long and focusing the majority of your power into swift, seemingly never-ending stabs. It's methodical and almost surgical, the way you jab and twist and cut away at him with terrifying precision, but it's a dance Sunday can get behind.
Strike, shift, dodge, parry, strike again.
It's a rhythm that Sunday eventually falls into once the initial shock ebbs away into an afterthought. He grits his teeth and pushes through, his feet never setting on the ground for more than a second before he's forced to jump aside once more.
And for a moment, his gaze locks with yours, and a brief smile slips onto his lips as he finally finds his figurative footing. Slowly, the dance turns into his favor, and he begins to push back, daring to strike back and attempt at hitting you - but you are too quick, too experienced, and like Blade, he is unsuccessful.
But he's keeping up, surprisingly, and that is enough for him. For now.
At least, that's what he thought.
Once you see that he's acclimated, you switch up the tempo. What was once a waltz morphs into a violent tango. You duck under his arm and jab and then-
He hears a pop. And for a second, there is nothing.
But then comes fire. It burns and stings and eats away at his flesh, and he feels it travel from his extremities all the way to his abdomen, circling, concentrating, enveloping that specific spot.
Sunday gasps and lurches back, hand already clutching his wound before he registers what has happened. He looks down, expecting the worst - he expects blood warming his hand, he expects flesh and ripped skin, he expects a gruesome scene.
But when he tentatively removes his hand, breath rattling his chest, there is almost nothing. There is blood, yes, but not much - only the slightest bit beading at the miniscule incision you've made in his stomach.
He furrows his brows, his mind running at impossible speeds to comprehend what had just happened. First is shock, then there is bewilderment, and then betrayal and then anger and then bewilderment again.
There is not a single hint of remorse on your face. No, your face is an undisturbed lake, already poised to strike again - and you do. This time you scrape his shoulder - but Sunday doesn't let you hit a third time.
The gold of his eyes gleams, and the next time he swings, Imaginary coats his blade and a slash of sound fires. With the shock from being stabbed still lingering, the attacks aren't as strong as he'd like, but they are enough to fend you off until he's recovered.
At least, that was the plan.
Just when he thinks the fire is over, lightning strikes. His body seizes up and he doubles over, coughing hideously into his already sullied hand. His rapier dematerializes. The glow snaps away from his halo and his eyes and his powers are deemed null. Every nerve is set alight, frenzied and panicked, as the rest of his body locks into stone.
"Wha-" Sunday clamps his mouth shut, appalled by his own voice. It slurs and sounds as if it'd been passed through a filter, nothing like what he is meant to sound like.
If you have an answer, he doesn't hear it. But he sees you, he sees your lips moving, and then it's your shoes scrunching up against the floor, and then it's your sword, and he realizes-
Panic seizes him, and then dark violet floods his vision, tinged by hints of the sun but bespeckled by the stars. He can't see, he won't see, his mind racing too fast to process whatever his eyes are telling him. His heart pounds in his ears, and all he can hear is the sound of his own breath.
It's quiet - too quiet.
Is he dying? It seems so. But he doesn't want to die, he can't die, not without the dream, not without that paradise, not without seeing Robin one last time.
And with that thought, the paralysis breaks. Sunday gasps as strength surges into him and he regains control of his body, and he nearly topples over as his knees almost give in from under him. But he manages to catch himself in time and avoids yet another humiliation.
He clutches at his chest, catching his breath. His body still quivers, and yet, he can stand just fine. The venom's sting begins to subside - although not completely, but enough strength has returned so that he can push it to the back of his mind.
But most importantly, he's alive. His hand, the one that isn't dirtied, trails up from his chest to his throat, feeling at where the edge of your sword should've cut. But there is nothing to be found. His skin is intact, with no sign of blade or cut.
"Wow, you've been holding out on me. I'm almost offended."
Sunday flinches at the sound of your voice and he whirls, only to not find you anywhere. His brows furrow in confusion, before you speak again-
"Up here, princess."
Sunday turns, and immediately his mind blanks. He blinks. Then he rubs his eyes. Then he blinks again.
"What in the world...?" he mutters.
At least you seem to be as confused as he is, although fond pride graces your smile despite it all. But that's not the confusing part - or at least, it isn't the most confusing part.
You hang upside-down from the ceiling, dark, vivid indigo thorns binding your feet together and your arms to your side. Your damned sword is still in your hand, but with the vines wrapping around you, you can't make any use of it.
"You tell me," you quip back, shaking your body slightly so that you can swing around like a punching bag. Sunday leans back to avoid you smacking into him. "I mean, they're yours, aren't they?"
What? Sunday shakes his head. "That can't be right. I've never even seen these before. Are you sure you didn't accidentally self-sabotage?"
Your face falls flat into a deadpan. "If I were that sloppy, I wouldn't be here anymore. These vines are yours."
"No," Sunday insists. "My abilities lie solely in the Imaginary, never Quantum. I've never..."
But he has,Sunday suddenly remembers, trailing off. You raise a brow.
"You do know that people aren't confined to one single element, right?" With a flick of your wrist, your sword slashes through the vines, the shreds of Quantum falling to the ground. You land on your feet and catch the handle of your sword in one fluid motion. "Take me for example. When using my sword, I'm of the Physical element. But any other time, I'm of Quantum."
You bend down and pick up a stray vine from the ground. It flickers and warps in your hold, a new constellation shining in its branches whenever you move.
"Webs's got something similar going on - She's both Lightning and Fire," you say idly as you come up to him. "So I'm not sure what you're worried about."
"That's not the issue," Sunday sighs. He steps back when you offer him that stray vine. "I have always been Imaginary. That other element- No, those powers, I have avoided using them for a reason."
As much as he wants to tear his gaze away from those vines, he can't. They glimmer back at him, inviting but patient.
No.
"So you have seen these before." Twirling the vine around your finger, you raise a brow at him. "They're pretty decent, especially to have caught me off guard. Why don't you use them more?"
Sunday sighs.
"They originate from the Harmony. And, well," he breathes an awkward laugh that doesn't quite meet his eyes, "my relationship with Xipe isn't the greatest as of right now. It wouldn't be wise to call upon THEIR blessing. Not unless I want to provoke the wrath of an Aeon."
It isn't the complete truth, but it is enough to get the message across.
And besides, he thinks, Xipe is... weak. Strong for the many, but weak for the few. If Sunday wants to survive in the kind of environment that the Hunters call their norm, he can't rely on such a Path.
No matter how right it feels.
And yet, despite that thought, there's that little nagging voice in the back of his mind. The memories of his earlier practice resurface briefly in his mind.
"If that's what you want," you hum. You let the vine fall from your wrist and dissipate into flickers of light. "But if you ever need help with controlling those things-"
His clipped tone comes out harsher than he intends. "No. You've helped me enough."
But you hardly react. "Suit yourself."
Sunday blinks. He straightens, expecting something more, but all you do is start playing around with your sword, presumably readying yourself for another round.
"Aren't you going to attempt to persuade me otherwise?" he can't help but question.
You snort, flipping your sword into the air. "You're not a child; I'm not going to make your decisions for you."
Catching the dark handle as it falls, you point your blade at him once more, and Sunday instinctively takes upon a defensive stance, rapier poised to protect.
"But, if you want advice," you say, "there's a saying we often go by: 'When you have the chance to make a choice, make one you know you won't regret.'"
Sunday stills.
A choice?
His mind flashes back to the script Elio had given him.
At 22:38:10 system time, the reigning kingdom of Alfeasa-VIII will fall. [Name] will dispense multiple gas bombs at the banquet. They will give you one gas mask to give to a person of your choosing. Whoever you choose will become the next ruler of Alfeasa-VIII. I trust that you will choose wisely.
Always with the choices, it seems - ironic, considering that he never had much of a choice when it came to joining the Hunters. His options were them and the IPC - it didn't take a genius to see which was the safe option.
But... No, that wasn't fair. Up until Elio had spoken to him, he had been completely willing to lay his head beneath the guillotine, to atone for his sins and to accept his punishment.
He had chosen this path.
And Elio had chosen him.
And soon, he must choose a fate for an entire planet.
That's why he is here, after all.
He doesn't need a weak Path such as Harmony - he won't need it. He refuses to.
And with that, his mind is set.
Seeing how he straightens, tosses aside his dirtied glove for a clean one, and brandishes his rapier towards you once more, you smile approvingly.
"Ready for another round?"
You needn't ask. A step, a lunge, and a swing of his wrist, and the dance begins once again.
Unfortunately, you never did stop with the stabbing (something about him just "having to get used to it", which he isn't happy about). His entire body is littered with the smallest of scratches, cuts, and punctures from where you've nicked him, and he's pretty sure that half of what runs in his veins is venom instead of blood.
Movement spurs in the corner of his vision. Kicking off of a nearby exercise machine, you leap into the air and bring your sword down upon him in a one-handed strike, but unlike before, Sunday is ready for it.
He jumps out of the way and summons his Echoes at the same time. With their support, strength returns to him, and the Imaginary tree's whispers fear his ears once more. The orchestra sings, and their tune shoots out in sharp flickering missiles towards your landing figure.
But you are quick on your feet and easily maneuver around the projectiles, slipping and swerving like an otter does through water as they shattered around you. The veins of your sword glow, and so does the outline of your form.
His Echoes squeak in warning and he just barely manages to tilt his head in just the right direction before he hears the wall crack behind him.
With a start, he realizes that you'd thrown your sword. Blood beads at his cheek at where it had grazed him. But that's the least of his problems. You're still running at him, after all.
You jump and aim a kick towards his head. Sunday's wings unfold rapidly and he winces as pain slams his joints, but he manages to propel himself out of the way so that you hit the wall instead. Without so much as missing a beat, you grab and wrench out your sword and kick off the wall towards him.
Obsidian meets silver in a fierce clash. Sunday grunts as you press forward, having to use both of his hands to keep his rapier steady against your attack. Rapiers were never meant for blocking, but you leave him little choice.
The standstill persists for a short while, and Sunday realizes you're waiting - waiting for more of that godforsaken poison to kick in. And just as that thought passes through his mind, lightning attacks again, and he jolts, tasting iron.
And that is enough for you to quickly change the tune of the dance.
Maintaining full eye contact, your blade slips from the clash and throws him off balance. Instead it comes up from under, and its handle scrapes against his palm just enough so that you can once again knock his rapier out of his hands and off clattering against the floor. There is a cold sensation against his chin, and Sunday realizes that it's your sword.
He sighs, raising his hands in yet another defeat. With a hum, you step back, and with you goes your sword.
"That makes five now," you hum, fishing out a vial of concerningly colored liquid and tossing it to him. Sunday sighs as he catches it.
"I can hardly call this fair," he mutters, unscrewing the vial and downing it like a shot of vodka. The antidote burns similarly to the alcohol, but rather than being bitter it is sweet like fruit tea - which he appreciates; alcohol was never his favorite beverage, and will never be. "You know, most would call using poison dishonorable."
"Good thing I'm not most people. Wanted criminal, remember?"
Sunday rolls his eyes as the cuts and aftershocks from the poison ebb away. You will never stop bringing that up, will you?
Before he can retort, both of your phones ping. At first, you elect to ignore it, pushing it to the side in favor of opening your mouth to speak. But then it pings again, and again, and again until you get the point and let out a frustrated groan.
"I swear, if it's Elio telling us to buy ink again," you mutter, fishing out your phone. Your brows raise. "Nope, it's worse."
"Who is it?" Sunday asks, grimacing as he flexes one of his hindwings. He must've opened them too quickly back then and pulled something in the process.
"Webs," you reply, already typing out a response. Your sword dematerializes and you walk off to sit down on a nearby bench against the wall. "Let's take a break - oh, and let me see your wing while we're at it."
Pausing, Sunday blinks at you. Was he being too obvious about it?
His phone vibrates in his pocket as he makes his way over to you. This time, however, the pings are more frequent and somehow, more heated, if that makes sense. You're probably arguing with Kafka, or... whatever the two of you do. You're fine enough on your own, and Kafka is... eerie, at best, but put you two in the same room, and Sunday wants nothing more than to bolt.
And to think he's going on a mission with the both of you in a week or two.
He sits down with the injured wing hanging limply towards you, already dreading his future. Almost instantaneously your hand is upon it. A gentle swipe of your thumb over where he's pulled a muscle or two, mending the fibers there, and the lazy yet methodical sifting through his feathers in search of other injuries, and Sunday instantly relaxes, a dull hum thrumming in his chest as he moves to get his phone.
But then, because apparently this universe wouldn't be happy if Sunday didn't suffer at least once every day, he catches sight of the hand he'd coughed into a while ago, and he freezes.
Technically speaking, he knows that his hand had been protected from the grime, and the only dirty thing is the glove sitting in his inventory. He has already replaced the sullied glove, there is nothing diseased on his person anymore.
But it doesn't stop his irrationality from suddenly pulling the already clean glove tight against his fingers.
It's not tight enough - yes, it is, Sunday, you can see the outline of your hands, you can feel it, it's tight enough, you're fine, nothing touched you- But what if it did? What if he coughed something out and it seeped through the glove and it touched his skin and now he's dirty and he should wash his hands- No, calm down, you are fine- but he doesn't know that, should he check? He should check.
Sunday nearly pulls up the wrist of his glove, until his thoughts assault him again- What are you doing, Sunday? Are you crazy? What if they see? You're dirty, you don't need to-
He pulls the glove back on so harshly it might've torn. But it doesn't - he makes sure of that, adjusting it yet again until the voices begin to quiet down enough for him to think properly.
"You okay over there?" you ask suddenly, glancing up from your phone. Sunday's mind starts running again, but Sunday himself appears to be calm.
"I'm fine," he assures, customer service voice resurfacing unconsciously. You raise a brow.
"If you say so," you say, clearly not convinced. Sunday prepares himself for an interrogation, but you return to your phone and drop your hand from his wing, evidently done with your treatment.
Sunday flaps his wing reflexively, pleased to find that the ache is no longer there. His phone vibrates in his hand, reminding him of why the two of you were sitting down and not sparring in the first place.
The second he opens the group chat, he's immediately assaulted with spam messages that make him regret opening it in the first place, and all thoughts of his gloves meld into the background noise of his mind.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Sunday lets out an exasperated sigh along with a shake of his head.
He can already feel his brain cells shriveling and withering away. Who was it that said that the Stellaron Hunters were a terrifying terrorist group, each capable of destroying entire empires with a mere pull of their finger?
Especially Kafka - she was the Hunter with the highest bounty and the most infamous out of all of them. Sunday had already long lost any expectations he had about you, but at least he still had some respect left for the quite frankly, creepy enigma that was Kafka.
Now, he isn't so sure.
Still, he can't deny the amused smile that was slowly creeping up upon his lips. He sneaks a look behind him, no longer feeling your hands on his wings, and he finds a similar grin on your face, a snort escaping you every so often as you play up this charade with Kafka.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
A sharp pain smacks his shin. Sunday hisses and glares at you, to which you only smile at him from the corner of your eye.
"Hey, you're supposed to defend me," you chastised, shaking your head in mock disappointment. "Not give the local pyromaniac a reason to attack me."
Sunday rolls his eyes with a smile.
"I'll defend you when you replace this shirt," he says, tugging at the high-necked collar that hugs his form. At least, it did. Now it was littered with cuts and tears in the fabric, all done in by a certain medic. "I'm afraid I won't be able to make much use of it now."
"Hold on, pyromaniac's yelling at me." You quickly type out a few paragraphs in your defense.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Once you've (somewhat) escaped Firefly's wrath, you set the phone down and assess the damage you've done to Sunday's attire. Even if his wounds were now healed and the poison neutralized, fabric wasn't something you could heal.
You raise a brow. "How many of those did I get for you?"
"Five," Sunday answers automatically.
"And the old man has never torn up a single one? I find that hard to believe, considering how rough he can get."
Sunday cringes, his abdomen aching from the mere memory of all the times Blade has drop kicked him there. "To be honest, I'm just as surprised as you are."
You squint at that, before your phone pings again and you check it. Thankfully, it isn't another onslaught of messages from Firefly that you need to defend yourself from, and so you don't pay it much attention.
"I'll ask Webs to stitch it up for you," you say, patting him on the shoulder. "Unless you want me to head back to Euphrosyne and raid them of their entire stock."
Much to his horror, Sunday almost considers it. But then he comes to his senses and shakes his head. "That won't be necessary."
"Are you sure?" You prop your elbow on his shoulder, leaning into him. "It's doable, just give me ten minutes, a couple of bombs, and-"
Sunday pushes your face away with his finger, his ear wing coming up to act as a shield between you and his face. "We are not committing bioterrorism on an innocent planet."
"Who's we? Technically, it's only me, and that planet isn't exactly innocent, if you know what I mean-"
"[Name]."
You raise your hands in surrender as he narrows his eyes. "Alright, point taken. Oh, also, Webs's talking to you. Might want to answer before she starts calling you a homewrecker again."
"We can't have that," Sunday chuckles.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
...What did he just get himself into? Sunday slowly turns to gauge your reaction, to which you only shrug, which isn't helpful at all.
"You'll be fine," you say. "Probably. Most likely. 50-50. Depends on the hour. Depends on how much she's had to drink."
He raises a brow. "How comforting," he says dryly.
You pat him deftly on the back before standing up and stretching. "It is what it is. We should go, though. Wouldn't want to keep the good lady waiting."
He moves to follow you, but before he can stand up, his hand comes to touch his throat, and he remembers the shirt, the shirt ruined by your hands.
Panic takes him by storm. He can't be seen like this. You are one thing - you've seen his wings at their worst, mangled and messy, but Kafka is another. Kafka is a higher up. Kafka is a senior. Kafka, in a way, is his boss outside of Elio.
And if she sees him like this, untidy and messy, he'd throw himself out into the cosmos and accept his death there.
But he doesn't have time to go into his room and grab a jacket, does he? Not if you're to head in at the same time, and he refuses to be late or have you wait outside his room while he changes into something more suitable. But what other choice does he have?
He begins to dig at his palms again, but this time, the pain fails to ground him. If anything, it makes his raging thoughts even worse as he thinks, thinks, and thinks of what he can do, what he could do- By THEM, this is why he always made sure everything was in order before he left the room. But you had to ruin-
His fingers dig harder at that thought. Irrational anger is swallowing him, and he tries to drive it down- It's a spar, Sunday.A spar with real swords, no less. He should've expected this. He knew what he was getting into- But for you to stab him? Wait, why is he still sitting down? Stand up, move, already, you idiot- Why did you have to ruin him like this?
He looks up, halo beginning to glow despite his rational telling him to step back and just breathe, only to get smacked in the face by a ball of thick fabric.
"Wha-" He sputters and takes a step back, indignance and pure, utter, bafflement replacing his anger at record speed. Catching the fabric as it falls down, Sunday's eyes widen as he realizes what it is.
"Are you done freaking out?" you ask dryly. Your sword has reappeared in your hand and there's tatters of cloth on the ground by your feet. "Put that on if you're so worried about looking decent."
Sunday turns the hoodie around apprehensively. It isn't the one you bought for him - it's too bright in color for that, and Sunday wasn't one to wear this color if he could help it. Not only that, but the fresh cut where the back is supposed to be is ragged, making it obvious that the hoodie wasn't tailored this way.
You didn't have to... His brows furrow. Why did you do this? For him, of all people- and what you said, before, did you notice yet again?
That won't do. He's never been this bad before. He needs to relearn what made him Sunday, Head of the Oak Family. He needs to relearn the art of performance, needs to remember how to push down weakness and cover it with expensive paint.
"Did you wash this?" he blurts out, tearing his gaze away from the hoodie. You snort.
"Just the fact that you asked me that tells me a lot about how you view me. What the hell. After I just cut it up for you, too?"
"I apologize. It's-" Sunday inhales, wondering how in the world he was going to word this without sounding paranoid. "It's a habit of mine."
You shake your head with a smile, crossing your arms. "Yes, I washed it. It's straight from the inventory, so don't worry, you won't catch anything."
"I didn't mean it like that-"
"I know," you chuckle, "no need to get all worked up. Now are you coming or what?"
Sunday hastens to throw the hoodie over his head, patting his hair into shape as he follows you out of the training room. With his body still admittedly warm from the sparring, it's uncomfortable and admittedly disgusting to have such a thick sweater over all of it, but he'd rather melt covered up as opposed to being exposed in such a disheveled manner.
"Are you sure about this?" he still asks as you step into the hallway. "With all this sweat-"
"I don't care, princess," you sigh. "You don't even have to return the thing. Mercy knows how many hoodies I've got in my wardrobe - letting go of one isn't an issue to me."
Sunday's hand comes to grasp at the neck of the hoodie, feeling the fabric. He looks away from you, his gaze falling to the constant motion of his feet.
"I appreciate it," he murmurs, wings coming up to cover some of his face. You hum.
"Don't mention it. That's what friends are for."
Sunday feels his cheeks warm slightly. His wings shift further up his face. "Friends... That is what we are, isn't it?"
"Yeah," you say as if it were obvious. "What else would we be?"
He shakes his head, his wings unfurling to reveal his soft smile. "No, this is enough. I was simply caught off guard, that's all."
You furrow your brows. "To be called a friend? That's... concerning."
"Don't look too far into it."
"I'll tell Elio to ring you up with a psychiatrist."
"Please don't," he sighs. You snicker.
"No promises."
The conversation fades into a comfortable silence after this, with the only sounds being the gentle pit-pat and tapping of your footsteps. Sunday spots a new graffiti on the wall that separates your door from Silver Wolf's. This one is of a raccoon, one that oddly looks similar to that one grey-haired Trailblazer with the baseball bat. Beside it is an Origami Bird that resembles Silver Wolf. As the two of you pass, a vividly orange flower snaps playfully at him, but unlike the one he's yet to replace, it doesn't seem hungry. It placates under your touch.
"I wasn't lying, by the way," you say suddenly. Sunday glances at you with a tilt of his head. "About what I said in the group chat. You're doing better than any of us expected."
"Thank you?" Sunday isn't sure whether to take it as an insult or a compliment. The corners of your eyes crinkle.
"I'm being serious. I'm surprised you were able to fight through my poison at all, even if it was a mild one. Any other person would've given up the second the paralysis hit. But you managed, somehow. So good on you."
Sunday stiffens. Not knowing what to say, he merely gives you a nod of appreciation. His footsteps slow slightly as you come up to Kafka's mahogany door so that he stands behind you. As you raise your hand to knock, he feels a slight prick at his wrist - and this time, it isn't of his own doing.
As subtle as he can, he risks a glance down at that hand.
The pointed edge of a thorny vine peeks out from under his sleeve, the dark purple taunting as it sways ever-so slightly.
Tumblr media
<< previous || series masterlist || next chapter >>
Tumblr media
reblogs w comments are appreciated !!
295 notes · View notes
soo0hee · 4 months ago
Text
Flu & Fluff
Tumblr media
Pairing — Yoon Jeonghan x Reader
Summary — Arriving home to pick something up, Jeonghan finds a good reson to just stay home with his angel.
Genre — fluff, established relationship, idol!au
Warnings — none
Word Count — 0.7k
Rating — sfw
Disclaimer: this fic is written and copyrighted by ©soo0hee on tumblr. do not rewrite or repost on any other plattforms without my permission.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED!
Tumblr media
 When Jeonghan set foot into the apartment he shared with you, he was startled quite a bit. It was around midday and he only came home already because he had forgotten something on the kitchen table he was not coming to get from home.
It wasn't the cup still half filled with your favorite tea that was still placed on the counter or the plate next to it. It wasn't even the throw blanket that was bundled together from your movie night yesterday. No, it was your jacket being thrown carelessly over the back of the couch together with the bag you use to go do work with.
Were you home already? If so, then why?
It was barely even 1pm and he knew that it was far from the time you usually got home so to say he was confused wouldn't be a lie.
"Angel? Are you home?" he called out into the silent apartment but was only greeted by the disgruntled meow of your cat Loki who was not at all impressed at the prospect of having his sleep disturbed.
Loki stretched thoroughly before winding himself around Jeonghans legs; the man frowning at the fur left behind on fabric of his pants. "Where's your momma, hm? Is she here?"
He received another meow, this time softer while enjoying the pets he got before sauntering away with his tail held high as he vanished in the gap the door to the bedroom was left open. He followed the cat and flinched almost when the sound of coughing cut through the silence of the apartment.
Jeonghan threw his hand over his chest where his heart felt like it had stopped beating in shock. Letting out a curse he continued into the bedroom where he stopped in his tracks as he processed the sight that greeted him.
Sniffling and buried underneath the blankets was you, trying to get some air into your lungs between coughing and a stuffed nose while also getting some shut eye. If that and the cup with chamomile tea wasn't a dead give away to what was wrong, then
"Aigoo-ya," he coed at you. "Why didn't you tell me you were sick, pabo?"
You grumbled, not having realized you were being talked to. The idol smiled and came closer. Shrugging his shoes off he crawled onto the bed and underneath the blanket. Unconsciously you clung to your boyfriends body, searching for the comfort he brought you every time without fail.
"Hannie?" you mumbled out deliriously.
Jeonghan had immediately noticed the immense head coming from your body, indicating the fever you seemed to have.
"Yes angel, I'm home. How are you feeling?"
"Like I got hit by a bus." You grimaced slightly at the tension behind your forehead before Iooking up at the man beside you. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you by at the company?"
"I forgot something in the kitchen,"
"The lyric sheets?"
"Exactly those. Now," he started with a pout  and his hand pressed to your forehead do check your temperature. Definitly a fever. "Care do tell my why you didn't call me and told me you weren't feeling well?"
You shrugged and answered while coughing. "The boys need you!"
"Right now, I think you need me more, don't you think?"
Jeonghan reached into his jeans pocket for his phone, typing in a message for the group chat.
Knowing what he was doing you too, reached weakly for the device only to have him hold it out of your reach.
"No, you can't just stay home! They-"
"-can record my vocals in a few days too! We have enough time until the comeback so don't worry, just let me take care of you for a while.”
You gave up, knowing very well that there was no way to win against the older of the famous evil twins. "Fine, but-“
"No buts." A soft kiss was pressed to your head. "Just let me love you."
Falling back asleep you hummed a quiet,"love ya too..."
399 notes · View notes
skythealmighty · 4 months ago
Text
man. there are so many object shows out there. I NEED TO CATCH UP ON SO MANY why are the4e so many anyway Exclamation Mark (NOT AB) im killing you. he would get bullied off tumblr
#rocket talk #roc save #NOT THE ANIMATIC BATTLE ONE that ones fine #i mean the one in my header #hes an asshole #why do i keep accidentally hitting the number keys lately
(7 notes)
Tumblr media
📉 storyboard-but-better Follow
i cant believe my contestants are so pissy over the second challenge still!!!! it was a coherent challenge i think "survive me killing you" is pretty straightforward!!! besides theyre fine now >:/
⏰ timeisatool Follow
Maybe it's becausw you killed them?
📉 storyboard-but-better Follow
well thats stupid
⚪ fuckingcircles Follow
I KNOW RIGHT!! my old contestants got SO pissy when i killed th3m!! just because theres no recovery... 😒
⏰ timeisatool Follow
You dont have recovery????
⭐ everybody-smile-smile-smile Follow
arent u supposed to be dead
⚪ fuckingcircles Follow
well im NOT so
❗ black-and-red Follow
Ugh, I haven't even killed anyone that much and they're still pissy! Honestly... just do the challenges and you'll be fine! I only threatened them..
⭐ everybody-smile-smile-smile Follow
well i thought i killed circle but ig not! and square but nobody else died idk why everuones so afraid of me... whats so wrong w wanting to make a perfect object show?
⏰ timeisatool Follow
Um
🔥 betterheatsflamesman Follow
yeah theres nothing wrong with that! you gotta do what you gotta do for your object show
⏰ timeisatool Follow
😰😰😰😰😰
⏰ timeisatool Follow
I want to leave this group...
#i thought we were all just supposed to be wacky and weird 😰😰 #mom come pick me up im scared...
(34 notes)
Tumblr media
🔥🔃 betterheatsflamesman Follow reblogged 🪔 slay-style-queen
🪔 slay-style-queen Follow
Hey guys, just managed to get sponsored with my object show idea!!! (No thanks to you Lip Stick lol) wish me luck!! Also go keep an eye out on Village of Objects Official :D
🪔 slay-style-queen Follow
what the FUCK
🪔 slay-style-queen Follow
oh my god how do you all stay sane actually
4️⃣ four-therecord Follow
we don't! welcome to the club
🪔 slay-style-queen Follow
im never doing this again
#:)
(4,294 notes)
Tumblr media
📻 annie-annie-ooh Follow
Who's Animatic?
#It's Your Fridge DJ! #I appreciate all the lovemail and the concern! ❤ #I don't understand some of the asks but thank you anyway!
(725 notes)
Tumblr media
🧪🔃 test-tubular Follow reblogged 💥 fans-fantastic-features
🫵 have-you-heard-of-this-os Follow
Have YOU heard of:
🫵 have-you-heard-of-this-os Follow
Please stop debating on whether or not this "counts" as an object show, this was requested by an anon. If you want to do that on your own time on your own blog, feel free!
💥 fans-fantastic-features Follow
SORRY ABOUT THAT SJEHSKEB will move i promise 🙏
anyWAY on another note i miss this showww 😭 i was so intrigued about it but i guess i understand its cancellation... if anyone wants to come up with a rewrite w me hmu my ao3 is in my desc!!!!
⭐ everybody-smile-smile-smile Follow
just as long as you clarify its unofficial!! (:
💥 fans-fantastic-features Follow
its on ao3 ofc its unofficial
💥 fans-fantastic-features Follow
WAIT A GODDAMN SECON
#Fan we were /on/ an object show and technically famous I'm not sure why you're surprised at this point #Also get off your phone we're at Purgatory Mansion
(11,374 notes)
Tumblr media
anonymous asked: hey greeny can you say trans rights for everyone out there
🟢 greenyguy Follow
trans rights AND trans wrongs. even if you like burger king i still support you <3
#burger king sucks ass tho dont do that to urself
(34,193 notes)
Tumblr media
💥 fans-fantastic-features asked: im SO sorry for the sudden reply earlier, up until your post i thought hfjone was just some weird wild experimental show?? then again i shouldnt be surprised if happy star themselves is on this goddamn site (also sorry in advance for my friend TT sending you asks about alternate universes. shes a science nerd of all types and needs data or sm) if you want i can tell you what i know about your situation in a private chat, ive done a lot of deep dive analysis posts on my blog too and trust me when i say a LOT of the internet wants to help free you and everyone else you have plenty of help available spotty replies tho im investigating smth
🎒 liam-plecak Follow
I... yeah, I'd like that. Thanks.
(34 notes)
Tumblr media
anonymous asked: battery ui is kind of already jailed but still
🔒 your-fav-would-be-jailed Follow
Tumblr media
Battery from Ultimate Insanity would be jailed!
🔋 theft-and-battery Follow
Yeah
#Why did someone earlier send in that Walkie Talkie person? #I approve of the Blender submission though #Hate that guy
(12 notes)
Tumblr media
🎒🔃 liam-plecak Follow reblogged 💥 fans-fantastic-features
🕹 fire-cartoon-schtick Follow
cant have shit in this fuckass hotel 😒😒😒 lens just died 😔😔
🕹 fire-cartoon-schtick Follow
#WHAT THE FUCK #DONT JUST DROP SMTH LIKE THAT AND DIP #ARE YOU OKAY?? #ARE YOU TALKING ABT A GAME???
hi! rhanks for the concern! 😁 i am unfortunately not talking about a game lens is actually dead please help me (dms r open 🙏🙏)
#Since I've gotten a lot of followers recently I feel like I should boost this #I'm busy with my own issues but maybe someone else can help?
(5,204 notes)
Tumblr media
⚪ fuckingcircles Follow
i want my SHOW BACK i want my CO HOSTS BACK i want calculatory DEAD i only MILDLY HATE happy star i dont KNOW WHAT ELSE TO COMPLAIN ABOUT
🥝 gela-not-jelly Follow
🫵 Fanny kinnie
⚪ fuckingcircles Follow
who the FUCK is fanny
#im CIRCLE not a goddamn FAN #who even names themselves fanny anyway
(382 notes)
Tumblr media
⚪battleforcircle asked: oml spiderman pointing meme
⚪ fuckingcircles Follow
you sent me this FIFTEEN TIMES get OUT of my ASKBOX!!!!
📉 storyboard-but-better Follow
why are there two of you...
⚪ fuckingcircles Follow
theres only ONE of me i dont know who this IS!!
⚪battleforcircle Follow
theres three of us just three of us
#idk why either tbh #tumblr just recommended his acc to me one day #he seems fun to annoy tho so ive taken it upon myself to do so #tee hee
(89 notes)
Tumblr media
📶 she-walkie-on-my-talkie-till Follow
Hey so why is a known criminal on Tumblr?
📶 she-walkie-on-my-talkie-till Follow
Hello???
268 notes · View notes
cleo-fox · 11 months ago
Text
Conquer
Part 1 of 5
Series Masterlist
Summary: The king intends to take a bride.
You just never thought it would be you.
(Soulmate AU where Loki won)
Pairing: Loki x Female Reader
Tag List: I don’t have a tag list for this fic, sorry! The best way to hear about updates is to follow me on Tumblr or subscribe to the fic on AO3.
Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, enemies to lovers, dirty talk, praise kink, oral sex (fem receiving), teasing, p in v sex, vaginal fingering.
A/N: I’m kind of fascinated by the concept of a soulmate AU where Loki wins and this is just another take on that thought. If you've read my fic Surrender, this one is a different universe (an AU of an AU? Is that a thing?)
I am indebted to @infinitystoner, who was kind enough to talk me through some of my doubts about this fic. This one is for you, K. (Also, everyone should go read her work, it's fabulous).
Tumblr media
The king intends to take a bride.
At first you think it’s just a stupid rumor, but with time, it becomes clear that it’s not merely a stupid rumor, but a true rumor about a stupid plan. He hasn’t found his soulmate; the speculation is that this is about producing an heir or something similar. Which is also stupid because he’s the one who took over your fucking planet. He can make new rules for succession if he wants to. He doesn’t have to make other people suffer.
You, like most people, still harbor a lot of anger and resentment toward Loki.
You don’t know who he’s going to rope into this plan, but you feel bad for her already. Imagine not only having to be married to that monster, but being in this weird second place to whoever is unfortunate enough to be his soulmate. Imagine having to fuck him, to try and have his kid, all the while knowing you’ll be discarded once he finds his soulmate. Imagine having to go along with all of this and never being able to say what you really think.
The only person you feel sorrier for is whoever turns out to be his soulmate.
Later, all of this will strike you as absurdly ironic.
But you don’t know any of that yet.
*
You took a job at the hotel because you needed a change of pace after Loki took over. It was just a front desk job—you checked people in and out, answered questions, and said “let me get my manager” whenever there was a serious problem with a guest. It wasn’t glamorous or fun, but it was straightforward and you never had to bring work home with you.
The one thing that you never really considered was whether you were inadvertently choosing a job that would bring you into closer proximity to the man you were trying so desperately hard to not think about at all.
You probably should have considered it—you knew when you took the job that he did a fair amount of travel. You never really understood why—he conquered the entire fucking planet, you think he’d be content to just chill in his palace or whatever. But no. He was constantly on the move, constantly showing up and demanding to be accommodated, and people put up with it because what else are they supposed to do? You can’t exactly persona non grata the guy that successfully took over your planet and made himself king. If that worked, he wouldn’t be here in the first place.
You kind of assumed that he wouldn’t show up to your hotel—it wasn’t conveniently located to anything useful and while it technically had a five star rating, you didn’t think it offered the same caliber of accommodations as the places he was known to stay.
As it turns out, you were wrong on all counts. Hilariously wrong. Because now his steward is here in your hotel lobby. Or his…emissary? You’re not sure what this guy’s official title is. You recognize him from the news—he can often be spotted in the entourage of guards and staff that accompany Loki everywhere, but you don’t know his name. He is rattling off a monologue of sorts—the king requires accommodations, only the finest rooms, and so on. You feel as though you are having an out of body experience as you click through the booking software and confirm that the penthouse is available. You breathe an inner sigh of relief—it would have been manageable to evict whichever rich person had booked it, but it would have fucked up the cleaning crew’s scheduling for at least the next week and you know that corporate is already up Marisol’s ass about your location’s overtime.
You don’t really expect him to show up during this transaction. If you had, you would have said “let me get my manager” and washed your hands of it—you don’t get paid nearly enough to deal with self-proclaimed kings. But as you are booking the room (who the fuck are you supposed to list as the guarantor on the invoice? This wasn’t covered in your training), Loki storms in, followed by a cadre of guards.
You’re not really prepared to see him in person—that’s partly why you freeze. He’s so tall and well…real. It sounds stupid, but it’s jarring seeing him in front of you instead of on a screen or in a picture. He’s not exactly more frightening, but looking at him makes your pulse quicken.
He’s scolding the steward (emissary?) about something—you’re so distracted that you miss exactly what it is that has him so annoyed.
And then you realize that the mark on your left wrist is burning.
You swallow hard. No. Not him.
Loki looks up and his eyes lock with yours.
Fucking hell.
*
The wedding is a spectacle, to say the least.
Your dress is fucking ridiculous. Instead of the traditional white, you are draped in yards of green fabric covered in thousands of emeralds and diamonds and painstakingly embroidered with thread made of real gold and silver. It is very much a statement about who you are and who you belong to. You don’t care for it, but you don’t really have a choice—the details of the ceremony have been largely left to other people to decide. Part of you thinks they must have been planning for this for years, based on the number of things that are already prepared. Or maybe having access to magic negates the need for planning ahead.
You are much too angry to actually ask Loki about any of this. Not that you see much of him before the ceremony anyway.
You go through the motions of the ceremony, trying to keep your cool. It’s only been a week since he found you at the hotel, so the fact that you haven’t consummated your soulbond is more akin to an annoying itch than anything more disruptive, but when he kisses you at the conclusion of the ceremony, it's…intense, to say the least. The mild ache that settled itself between your thighs last week seems to swell, sending a fresh wave of arousal to your core. When he slides his tongue past your lips, all you want to do is release a wanton moan directly into his mouth and rub yourself shamelessly against him. The fact that you’re standing on a platform while the entire world looks on is really the only thing that stops you.
The fact that this is your immediate reaction scares you a bit. You know it’s biology—soulbonds are meant to be consummated isn’t just a saying—but there’s part of you that feels like you should have a stronger handle on that impulse. You are mad at him, you remind yourself. He took over your entire planet, installed himself as king, and then had the audacity to be your soulmate. Focus. Be angry.
You wonder if your family and friends are watching. Your phone ran out of battery the night after he found you and you haven’t had the heart to charge it. You’re barely managing your own emotional reaction—you’re not ready to invite anyone else into it just yet.
The rest of your wedding day is a blur. You meet a bunch of important people and retain exactly none of their names or roles. There is an elaborate multi-course feast and you manage to eat without spilling food on your dress, which feels like a small miracle. You meet more important people and somehow retain even less information. You dance—a few dances with important people whose names you’ve forgotten, but mostly with Loki. The sun sets. They bring out an elaborate dessert course. You dance again. Loki’s hand on your waist fans the flames of desire that you’re trying so hard to ignore.
Finally, you’re whisked away to prepare for bed. It took three people to get you into your dress, and it takes just as many to get you out. They help you into a nightgown that you also didn’t get to pick out—and in fact, it’s the first time you’re seeing it at all. It’s almost too pretty to sleep in, though you suppose that’s the point—you’re supposed to fall asleep naked and sated in the arms of your new husband (god, it’s so weird that you have a husband). You’re not so sure that this is the specific fate that’s in your cards, but you anticipate the nightgown will be coming off at some point this evening. In the interim, you look stereotypically virginal in white lace and chiffon, a glittering emerald pendant resting in your cleavage.
You’ve been staying in a guest suite since he found you, but tonight, they bring you to his rooms. Your rooms, you suppose. Somehow, you doubt he’s the sort who believes that husbands and wives should sleep separately.
The lights are on, but it’s quiet. You wonder if he’s even here.
You approach the couch that sits in front of the floor to ceiling windows that overlook the city. You can see fireworks and twinkling lights of different celebrations and your stomach clenches like a fist. It’s supposed to be in honor of you. Earth’s new queen. A title that shouldn’t even exist, let alone belong to you.
You turn away from the window and sit down on the couch. You stare at the wall, hands twisting the delicate fabric of your nightgown in your lap.
You hear a sound in the other room—his study, you think—and your heart leaps to your throat, practically buzzing with an emotion that feels like the strange cousin of anxiety and anticipation.
You keep your eyes locked on the wall as you listen to his footsteps draw closer.
“It’s customary to announce yourself when you enter someone’s quarters, you know.”
You pause for a moment before letting your gaze trail to him. It’s a conscious, obnoxious power play on your part—you are trying to show him that you still have agency, that he has not yet won your respect or admiration.
You’re not even sure that it registers, which only serves to irritate you further.
He is still wearing most of his wedding clothes, though he’s taken off the fine surcoat from the ceremony, exposing the soft tunic he was wearing underneath. He is smirking—that seems to be his expression of choice, you’ve noticed.
“Aren’t these my rooms too?” you ask. “Is it customary to announce myself in my own space?”
You are trying to be rude, but it doesn’t seem to matter: he simply laughs.
“You are spirited,” he says, looking you over appreciatively, stirring a wild and burning need in your hips, slickness collecting in the lacy white underwear that had been chosen for you.
“And you intend to break me, is that it?” you snap with more venom than is perhaps wise.
“Of course not.” His answer surprises you, though you are determined to not let that show in your face. “Your will is part of your appeal. I’d no sooner crush a rose beneath my boot.”
You are skeptical of this claim given the amount of damage he did to New York City, but your traitorous cunt throbs at his words nonetheless.
“I’m not happy about any of this, you know,” you say, hoping that your anger will act like roiling floodwaters on the firestorm of lust that’s continuing to build in your hips.
It doesn’t, of course. What’s worse: he laughs. Again.
“I’d gathered,” he says. “You are wonderfully unsubtle when you’re angry.”
“I mean, are you surprised?” you say irritably. “I didn’t even get to pick out my own wedding dress, for fuck’s sake.”
“This is the burden of the office, I’m afraid,” he says. “Your wants and desires are often secondary to the needs of the crown.”
You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from screaming at him. “I think you’re missing the point.”
“I think you’ll find I’m not.”
You let out one long breath. “Are you trying to irritate me?”
Another smirk. “I’m afraid I simply have a gift for it.”
You finally give in and scowl. “Great. This is going about as well as I had expected.”
His eyes drift down the column of your throat to the emerald pendant resting in your cleavage and then to the bodice of your nightgown. “Perhaps it’s time we concern ourselves with activities that require less talking.” He licks his lips and brings his gaze back up to yours.
“I’m not entirely convinced anything would stop you from talking,” you say.
“I suspect letting me bury my tongue in your cunt might do the trick.”
For the first time today, you are entirely speechless. The fire burning low in your hips roars into an inferno, like someone has poured accelerant along your nerves and Loki has struck a match. You take in one shaky breath, your heart thrumming in your throat.
“That’s what I thought,” he says with a dark sort of smugness. “To bed, wife.”
You steadfastly ignore the way your stomach jumps when he calls you ‘wife.’ Why is that hot? It shouldn’t be hot.
You’re tempted to argue with him some more—you don’t like giving him even the vaguest impression that you’re following his orders or anything like that—but one smoldering look from him has your heart pounding and another wave of fresh arousal flooding between your legs. You follow him to the bed, trying to keep your expression neutral and indifferent.
He pulls you firmly against him and you wonder if he can feel your heart pounding in your chest. There’s no space between you—you can feel his stomach muscles expand and contract with every slow intake of breath, the press of his slowly hardening cock against your stomach.
He tilts your face up to his and claims your mouth in a devouring kiss, and this time, the moan that you’d held back during the ceremony slips from your lips almost immediately. He makes a low growling noise in return, his hands sliding to the row of small pearl buttons that hold up the back of your nightgown.
You suspect that beyond aesthetic and functional value, the purpose of these buttons is to facilitate a slow, sexy reveal; Loki undoes exactly two and a half buttons before roughly pulling the edges of the fabric apart, the remaining buttons snapping from their threads and pinging against the floor.
You pull away from him, immediately annoyed. “Do you make a habit of ruining other people’s things? What if I wanted to wear that again?”
He laughs, tugging the fabric off your shoulders. “Perhaps you forget the extraordinary powers I have at my command,” he says, staring greedily at your breasts as he tugs the nightgown down your waist, pulling it off your hips so it falls to the floor. “I could tear this gown off you every night and remake it every morning with no more than a click of my fingers.”
Fucking magic powers undercutting your goddamn fucking point.
“Yeah, well, you’re still a jackass,” you say sourly, unwilling to concede the point any further.
His smile is sharp in a way that makes you shiver and he slips his hand into your underwear, his smile growing as he feels how slick you are. “It doesn’t seem to bother you all that much, does it?”
You try to keep your expression stern, but his fingers find your clit and you can’t help the moan that falls from your lips.
“Your sweet cunt is so ready to come.” He slides a finger into you and you whimper. “It’s obscene how wet you are for me.”
You bite back a plea and kiss him instead. His mouth is rough on yours, teeth nipping at your lower lip, tongue plundering your mouth. He slides a second finger into you and you keen.
“Yes,” he groans against your mouth. “Take it like a good girl.”
You clench around his fingers and your hands seek purchase in his hair. You tug on it lightly and he growls with pleasure before he pulls away, his hands moving to the waistband of your underwear and tugging it off your hips.
“Get on the bed.” His tone brooks no arguments. “Now.”
It’s tempting to talk back, tempting to resist. You are still angry about every aspect of this relationship and this stupid fucking wedding. But you know you need this—the dull ache in your hips is only growing more pronounced with every passing moment and the brief feeling of his fingers on your clit was nothing short of heaven. Soulbonds are meant to be consummated and your body seems to be doing everything it can to propel you toward that end.
You kick your underwear the rest of the way off before sitting down on the bed and lying back on the pillows.
He pauses for a moment to look you over, his gaze trailing lazily over your bare skin, his hand absently moving to palm his cock through his trousers. “Spread your legs,” he says. You do and you catch a breath of a groan from him as he stares at you. Your cunt throbs in response and you bite your lip to keep yourself from whimpering.
He allows himself one moment before he crawls on the bed to join you. He kneels between your legs, staring greedily at your exposed cunt, running a thumb along the edge of your folds. Your hips rock upward involuntarily, chasing his hand, seeking friction.
“Such a pretty cunt,” he murmurs. “So soaking wet, so desperately needy for my touch.” He pauses again, licking his lips. “I think I might need a taste.”
Your breath stutters in your chest and he kisses the inside of your thigh, slowly licking and sucking his way upward in a tantalizing preview of what’s to come. You’re already soaking and you can feel yourself growing wetter as his sinful mouth draws closer and closer to your aching need.
You’re not entirely sure whether it’s a moan or a whine that passes your lips when he finally licks that first long, lazy stripe from your entrance all the way up to your clit. He groans low and wanting against your cunt, his tongue rolling over your clit once more before he catches it between his lips and slowly begins to suck.
There is no getting around it: Loki is a pro at eating pussy.
It would be easier if he wasn’t, you find yourself thinking somewhere in the haze between orgasms. If he were mediocre, it would make it so much easier to be angry at him, to resent your current situation. This is not to say that you’ve abandoned your anger at all—you are still mad. But your anger feels so much less effective when he’s spent a solid ninety minutes with his head between your legs and you’ve lost track of the number of times he’s made you come.
He is—predictably—infuriatingly smug about all of this.
Your first orgasm arrives so quickly that it seems to take you both by surprise. And indeed, he lifts his head moments later, already smirking.
“That was awfully quick, wife,” he says. The glint in his eye tells you that he absolutely noticed how you reacted to that name earlier and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from scowling.
“Maybe you’re out of practice,” you say. Even as you say it, it doesn’t sound convincing (it doesn’t even make sense when you think about it later) and Loki laughs outright.
“I think not,” he says, carefully sliding one long index finger inside of you. “I think your poor cunt has been sorely neglected, either by you or some subpar lover you took to ease the ache of missing me.” He adds a second finger and you bite your lip to keep in a moan. “I think you’ll be begging for me before the night is out.” His fingertips press teasingly against that spot inside you and you take in a sharp breath.
He starts lazily moving his fingers in and out of you and while it feels good, you know it’s not going to be enough to get you there. You suspect, from the way that he’s smirking, that he knows this, too.
“Do you want my mouth again? I don’t think you’re done.”
“You’re trying to be a jerk and I don’t like it,” you say.
He laughs and draws his thumb briefly over your clit. “Darling, I only want you to tell me what you want.”
Your eyes narrow. “Why?”
“I think you can understand the appeal of hearing a beautiful woman beg for your touch.”
His compliment immediately clashes with the suggestion that you begging for him is a possibility.
He smiles, catlike, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking.
“You need my mouth again,” he says, fingers curling inside you. “You need more. I can feel how wet you are, sweet thing.” His thumb presses against your clit and retreats as soon as your breath hitches.
“I could keep you like this for hours. Days, even,” he says, lazily stroking his fingers inside you. “I could keep you right on the edge, begging for your release. But I don’t think you want that. Even I don’t want that. I think you want to come again right now and I think you want my mouth.”
“I’m not begging you for it,” you say.
“I’ve only asked you to tell me what you want,” he says. “I’ve merely expressed that I find the idea of you begging very appealing.”
You want to smack him. With your luck, though, that would turn out to be one of his kinks and then you’ll really be in for it. Your fingers flex against the sheets.
“Do you want to come, darling? Do you want my mouth again?” he asks with a feigned innocence that suggests it’s not a loaded question, even as the glint in his eyes tells you it is.
You’re silent for a beat and then his thumb returns to your clit, pressing and stroking as his fingers curl inside of you. Your hips rock with his hand and you have to bite your lip to keep yourself from moaning aloud when he stops a few seconds later, his eyebrows raised like he’s expecting your answer.
This exchange repeats four more times. On the fifth, you finally break.
“Please,” you whimper. You sound more desperate than you would prefer, but your overwhelming need to come has quickly superseded whatever shreds of decency you have left.
“Please what?” he asks, radiating smugness.
You’re not quite so far gone that you can’t manage a scowl, which he only laughs at.
“I’m waiting…” he says, his fingers curling in a teasing way.
You know there’s no getting around this. “I need to come.”
He looks at you with a raised eyebrow, like he’s expecting more.
You resist the urge to sigh. “I need your mouth. Please.”
He barely spares a second for a wicked grin and a growl of praise that only elevates your need before he’s lowering his mouth again to your clit.
Your second orgasm is somehow even quicker than the first, only this time, you’re already whimpering for the next one as soon as you catch your breath.
Mercifully, he doesn’t lift his mouth from your cunt this time, though he does give you a wicked look that more or less says the same thing.
His fingers are wonderful, but you know they’re no substitute for his cock. And while he has made you come so many times already, the need to have him inside of you continues to grow, settling into a dull ache in your hips.
“I need you to fuck me,” you finally breathe as the aftershocks of your latest orgasm fade back to that ache.
He lifts his head for a minute. “I intend to, but I don’t think you’re done yet.”
Your eyes widen as he seals his lips back around your clit.
“I mean, I’ve just—fuck—I’ve just had more…c-consecutive orgasms than I’ve ever had before in my life, you’re—oh my god, yes—you’re not exactly leaving me wanting—oh fuck.”
He stays silent, but it’s because his tongue is working over your clit. You, on the other hand, are in the process of undercutting your own point. A few more strokes of his tongue and you are coming again, your hips jerking hard against his mouth.
He doesn’t stop after that, either—he draws more orgasms from you, groaning into your cunt when you pull on his hair.
Your pleas for him to fuck you become increasingly desperate with every orgasm, until he finally lifts his head.
“What was it that you wanted?” he asks with a smirk that tells you he needs absolutely no clarification whatsoever.
“Fuck me, please. I need to be fucked, I need your cock,” you say. You feel restless and desperate, the ache inside you growing with every passing second.
“Oh, darling, all you needed to do was ask,” he says, his tone overly cloying.
You’re not quite so far gone that you can’t manage a scowl. “I have been asking. Repeatedly.”
He laughs and begins to undress. You suspect he’s doing this to torture you—you know he could remove his clothes in one go if he wanted to.
He peels his shirt off first and your lips part involuntarily as you take in the firm expanse of muscle of his chest and abdomen, your fingertips itching with the need to touch him. You grip the sheets instead in the vain hope that it might make a difference (it doesn’t).
But even the enticing expanse of his chest is no match for what’s to come.
He removes his trousers with achingly precise slowness. You expect him to be hard; what you’re not expecting is the primal response that it invokes in you. His cock is long, thick, and hard, the head already slick with pre-come. It’s not just for you—it’s because of you.
You swallow hard as he turns to face you fully. You’re so distracted by his cock that you almost miss the smug smirk, which he makes no attempt to hide. He knows he’s hot, he knows he has a beautiful cock, and he knows that you are absolutely aching for him. It is profoundly irritating.
He wraps his hand around his cock, wetting his lips as he casually strokes himself once. “Do you want me?” he asks with the sort of tone and expression that tells you he absolutely knows the answer.
You could yell at him. The prospect is certainly tempting. But you’re not sure that it’s worth it, not with the way your cunt is throbbing with the need to be filled with his beautiful, thick cock.
“Loki, please.” It comes out as more of a whine than you’d like, but you decide that you can live with it.
You are treated to a particularly wolfish grin before he starts stalking towards you.
There’s a large part of you that expects him to flip you over and take you from behind, rough and fast and impersonal. But instead, he climbs on top of you and draws you into a kiss. It’s deep and slow and heightened by the heavy weight of his bare cock pressing against your belly, drops of pre-come smearing against your skin.
Your back arches and your right leg snakes around his waist, trying to pull him closer, urging him to finally ease the ache inside of you. But he takes his time, kissing you slowly, running his hands over your breasts and hips, rocking his cock against you, but not inside of you.
You don’t like begging—it feels too much like offering up a vulnerability—but it becomes increasingly difficult not to give into the urge the longer he stays on top of you like this.
“Loki,” you finally say when he starts peppering sharp, sucking kisses against your throat.
“What is it, my love?” he asks with a faux confusion that you can see through right away.
“You know what I want,” you say as evenly as you can manage.
“Mmm, let me hear you say it just once more,” he says.
“Please fuck me.”
You’re expecting another negotiation, another battle of wits, but instead, he gives you a rather sharp grin and adjusts his hips so he can rub the tip of his cock up and down the length of your cunt. And then, to your surprise, he lines his cock up at your entrance and slowly begins to ease inside of you.
There’s a part of you—a large part of you—that’s surprised by how careful he is. He’s gentle, slowly pressing into you, giving you time to adjust, his movements careful. He does this all in such a way that you might not notice if you didn’t think to look—he wants you to think that he’s not doing any of what he’s doing. He wants you to think he’s not thinking of you when he is, that the care and precision of his movements are merely a pleasant coincidence. You’re not sure how you know this, but you feel certain.
He waits to kiss you until he’s pressed fully inside you, and you realize this is another illusion, another cover so you don’t realize that he’s giving you another moment to adjust to him.
It’s oddly considerate—irritatingly so. The coals of your anger still burn bright in your heart, but they flicker for just a moment.
But then he begins to move and coherent thoughts flee your mind entirely.
He feels so good. You’re not sure if it’s the soulbond itself, the dopamine and serotonin, or if he just knows the perfect way to move, but the first thrust has your toes curling and that warm heat stirring in your belly. You’ve already come so many times tonight that it feels impossible that your body should be capable of more, but you know immediately that he’s going to bring you right back over the edge if he keeps moving the way he is.
And he’s showing no signs of stopping, either.
“Norns,” he breathes, pressing a kiss against your neck, “you feel perfect. So warm and tight.”
You shiver, your cunt clenching reflexively around his slowly stroking cock. He grins and presses his lips up against your ear.
“Do you like hearing how your snug little cunt fits me like a glove?”
You would prefer to be able to lie in this particular moment—instead, your body immediately betrays you and your legs tighten around his waist as your cunt shudders around him.
You can practically feel his sharp, hungry smile as he nips at your earlobe. “I can feel how much you do,” he murmurs. A devastating swivel of his hips has you uttering a gasping whine that you are not at all proud of.
“That’s it.” He’s swiveling his hips on every other thrust now and you know the moment he switches to that exclusively, it’s all over. “You’re so close,” he purrs with confidence that annoys you just a little, even in your pre-orgasmic stupor.
But then he swivels his hips again and you shudder before you can hide it and he notices…and does it again.
And again.
Fuck.
Your orgasm starts barreling toward you at an impossibly fast pace and his eyes glitter because he knows.
“You’re going to come for me.” It’s not even a command—it’s just a statement as he rolls his hips in those devastating thrusts.
You whimper, your back arching.
“Give into it. Let me feel you.”
One more push of his cock against that sweet spot inside you and you can’t fight it any more. Your muscles tense one last time and you cry out as you come hard on his cock.
“Oh, beautiful,” he groans, his eyes closing as he fucks you through it.
It seems to last a long time, drawn out every time the head of his cock drags against that sensitive spot that sent you over the edge in the first place. He pauses briefly to bring your legs up over his shoulders, which makes his cock hit a spot even deeper inside you that feels so good it pulls a strangled sob from your throat.
Loki groans, his pace increasing, one hand falling between your legs to rub at your clit. It’s so much, but it feels better than anything. You feel another orgasm rising in your hips and you whimper.
“Good girl, fucking take it,” he slurs. You can tell that he’s getting close from the way his thrusting is becoming more frantic, how he tips his head back and grips your hips even harder.
“Come for me,” he growls. “I’m going to fill your lovely cunt with my seed. Come for me.”
Your vision whites out and your back arches as you come. If you were capable of rational thought, you would be angry that your body simply obeyed this simple directive; as it is, it’s hard for you to process anything other than how good he feels inside of you.
You can tell he’s approaching his end and he’s utterly captivating to watch. His eyes are screwed shut, brow furrowed and lips parted as he lets out a low groan that makes your toes curl.
His eyes open in the final throes and he surges forward to kiss you. He moans softly into your mouth as he comes, his whole body shuddering.
You feel dreamy and sated as he slows to a halt, lowering his head to the crook of your neck. The restless ache inside you is finally quiet—at least for now.
You expect him to roll off you and fall asleep—the portrait of a cliche. Instead, he stays with you, the warm heat of his breath ghosting over your shoulder. You can feel his cock still throbbing inside of you.
You should push him away, reclaim the distance between you. You’re angry at him, after all.
But also…it feels nice.
It’s just the endorphins, you tell yourself. It’s hormones. It doesn’t mean anything.
You can feel the lie prickling at the edges of the thought, sharp and needling, like ground glass pressing against bare skin. It means a lot of things; you just wish it didn’t.
Be angry.
His lips brush against your shoulder. More of your muscles relax. It’s nice.
Be angry.
You’re tired though. It’s been a really long day and the bed is soft and the weight of Loki on top of you is oddly reassuring.
Maybe just for tonight. Maybe just this once you’ll allow yourself to fall asleep in his bed.
“I’m still mad at you,” you say. It feels too sharp, too strident. The lady doth protest too much, methinks. He doesn’t know you, though, not really, and so you can only hope that he misses the subtle catch in your voice, that little note of uncertainty.
“I’d expect nothing less.” His voice is slightly muffled against your shoulder.
Goddammit, why does this have to be so comfortable?
He shifts slightly, easing out of you. You feel the resulting mess vanish before it even hits your thigh. At least he’s considerate.
You scowl at the thought.
“Sleep,” he says after a moment. “You’ll need your strength to rage at me in the morning.”
“I can rage at you in my sleep,” you say as your eyes slide shut.
“I’m sure you can,” he says. “Sleep.”
And despite all your complicated feelings—your anger, the inherent feeling of ease you get from his embrace, your unease with your new title, your homesickness—you find that the pull of sleep is too tempting to resist and the world slowly fades away.
Next chapter
1K notes · View notes
everyonewooeverywhere · 1 year ago
Text
Tumblr media
MDNI 18+ BLOG -> ageless blogs and minors WILL BE BLOCKED
pairing ✭ bf!jongho x f!reader
synopsis ✭ when you come home from a less-than-perfect day, your boyfriend is nowhere to be found, but you don't want to call him and ask him to come home while he's out with friends. even though he'd drop everything if he knew you were struggling.
content/genre ✭ smut 18+ MDNI, established relationship, non-idol!au, hurt to comfort, slightly angsty, relatively fluffy (certainly the fluffiest thing i've ever written here)
word count ✭ 2.5k
note ✭ so this was something i really needed to write for myself, i think. for those who don't know (which is all of you lol) i have adhd. where i see it the most in my own life is chronic procrastination. it's something i've had to learn to cope with a lot throughout my life. a lot of times, when i feel the need to avoid feeling the stress of my personal life, i'll scroll on instagram or tumblr forever. which then leads to a heaping ton of guilt in the following hours as i try to make up for lost time. it's a wonderful cycle.
anyway, this is to say, that coping alone can be incredibly difficult. don't get me wrong, i have a handful of wonderful friends (who go to school across the country) and an angel of a therapist, but i often romanticize having someone there to help drag me out of those hopeless cycles. and not because i think i need someone to do it for me, but having that person is a really comforting thought. and, today, that is jongho i guess 😀
that being said, this mc doesn't necessarily have adhd, but they are certainly experiencing something that i experience very frequently as a byproduct of it.
like, is this smut? yeah, but im allowed to be emotional 😗
warnings ✭ mc is stressed af, protected sex, really soft sex (they're in love 😤)
✭✭✭✭
It was a terrible day. One of the worst you’d had in a while. Nothing seemed to be going your way. You’d ripped your favorite pair of tights this morning when getting ready in a hurry after waking up super late. You’d locked yourself out of the apartment. The seven dollar coffee you’d bought for yourself to cope with aforementioned events had spilt all over your desk, ruining the book you had just received as a gift from a coworker. And, to top it all off, your boss had demanded you to stay late to finish what was supposed to be his job.
So when you finally made it back to your apartment, after waiting in the lobby forever waiting for your landlord to let you in, you wanted nothing more than to collapse on the couch with your boyfriend and fall asleep in his arms. 
You were plagued with fatigue as you slipped out of your work shoes and made your way through the kitchen and into the living room, not finding him anywhere. The bedroom the two of you shared was also completely vacant. Nothing had changed since you’d left this morning. He hadn’t been home all day.
Maybe he’s just working late, you thought, slightly defeated knowing you’d have to wait for him, not knowing how long it would take. 
Trying to take your mind off of it, you scrolled on your phone for a completely indiscernible amount of time, feeling completely defeated with the day you’d had. Moving in with Jongho months ago has been an incredibly helpful step for you. Before the two of you had lived together, you were a master of procrastinating your own feelings. Constantly letting yourself rot away in your bed and letting the day pass you by. Only to be plagued by that crushing guilt that came with letting a day go by unproductively. Living with Jongho had given you someone to hold you accountable. To pull you out of bed because sometimes it was impossible to do it on your own.
But on nights like these, where your boyfriend was nowhere to be found, which was not a common occurrence, you felt yourself slipping back into the endless cycle of losing yourself in your phone for countless hours. 
Hours passed and the sun was almost completely down before you received a text from your boyfriend.
| jongho 🐻🤎: hey love, sorry i had to stay late for work today. i’m gonna go get some drinks with my coworkers.
| jongho 🐻🤎: that ok?
God, you felt so helpless. How horrible and controlling of a partner would you be to tell him ‘no?’ Did he ask? Yes, but you desperately didn’t want to be the girl who always needed to be by her boyfriend’s side. Telling him he couldn’t go out with his friends would make you feel like such a nuisance. You stared at the screen for a good two minutes, biting your thumb, trying to think of how to respond.
| jongho 🐻🤎: y/n? 
| jongho 🐻🤎: i can see you read the message. is everything alright?
Before you could even draft a response, his name flashed across the screen. Taking a deep breath, you slid your thumb across the screen, answering the call.
“Hi,” you picked up.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” You could hear some of his coworkers in the background. He must already be at the bar. 
You held in a sigh, “Nothing, I’m alright. Why?”
“Y/n, you read and didn’t respond to my message. Like you were overthinking a response."
You didn’t say anything. Overthinking yet another response.
“Love, I don’t even want to be here that badly. If you need me to come home, I will. But you’ve gotta tell me.” He was being so patient with you. So much more patient than you thought you deserved, though he would certainly disagree with that.
You took a deep breath, nearing tears, “I–” this was so incredibly hard, “Can you please come home? I didn’t really have a great day.”
“Of course, I’ll be there in about thirty minutes. Do you want me to stay on the phone?”
“No, it’s alright. I just need to see you.”
“Ok, just hang in there alright. Why don’t you hop in the shower, and we can watch a movie when I get back. I’ll pick up some takeout on my way, too.”
When you hang up, you force yourself to get out of bed and get in the shower. It’s so rewarding and feels so relaxing that you can’t imagine why you ever couldn’t get out of the bed in the first place. But, of course, you say that every time. 
✭✭✭✭
By the time you had gotten out of the shower and dried your hair, Jongho had made it home with the takeout he’d promised in hand. 
When you left your bedroom, you saw him sitting on the floor in your living room. He’d lit a candle on the coffee table and set the food down with it. You could tell he’d changed out of his work clothes into a hoodie and basketball shorts, mirroring your almost identical outfit. He didn’t notice you at first. He was chatting to someone on the phone, seemingly a friendly conversation, and not one you wanted to interrupt. When he saw you, though, you heard him say goodbye to whoever was on the line. 
Throwing his phone down on the couch, he got up from the floor and met you at the door of your bedroom. Pulling you into a big hug, he placed a kiss on the top of your head. 
“No pressure, but, if you wanna talk about your day, we can.”
You shook your head, “Not really. I just wanna eat, I think.”
The two of you ate, sitting in comfortable silence on the floor in your living room. You noticed as you took in the scene around you, that Jongho had turned off all the overhead lights in the room. Leaving only the candlelight and the string lights around the ceiling to illuminate the room. There was something about warm lighting that made everything feel so much more cozy and comfortable. 
Your boyfriend wasn’t the most physically affectionate individual, but he never failed to make you feel loved. He always noticed the small things. He was hyper aware of your emotions in the least patronizing way possible. It was little moments like bringing home food for you and turning the cool-toned overhead lights off that reminded you that this man knew you better than anyone.
And that wasn’t something that happened overnight. He tried harder than anyone you’d ever met to know you. Your likes, dislikes, discomforts, phobias, and even your little habits. He knew it all. What he knew most is that you desired so bad to have someone to pull you out of your slump. Which is why he had come home early.
“I’m sorry you couldn’t stay out with your friends,” you whispered, staying focused on the food in front of you.
“I didn’t come home because I felt any obligation to. It’s not that I couldn’t stay out with my friends. It’s that you needed me here at home, and I wanted to come home and comfort you.” He ran a hand over your hair as he finished up his own food. 
That was another thing you loved about him. He wasn’t saying this because he wanted to make you feel better. He wanted you to know that you were not alone. That you were free to feel your feelings, and he’d always be right beside you to comfort you through them.
“Thank you,” you looked up at him, “I love you, you know that, right?”
“How could I ever forget? I love you, too, y/n.”
✭✭✭✭
After the food was gone and the coffee table was cleared, Jongho had put on a movie laid down on the couch, holding out his arms for you. When you finally sat between his legs and leaned into his chest, he pulled a quilted blanket over the two of you, wrapping his arms around you.
You paid very little mind to the movie playing on the TV. Instead you were focused on the rhythm of his breathing, the steady beating of his heart, and the minor movements his chest would make when he let out a soft laugh whatever he was watching.
He played with your hair, running his fingers through the strands, softly brushing his fingers over your neck with each pass. This position couldn’t have been more comfortable. Being with the man you loved as he comforted you in the way he knew best with absolutely no complaint was more than you could’ve ever dreamed of.
Jongho would claim that it was the bare minimum, but you always felt the need to let him know how much he really amazed you. 
When you reached your hand up to his cheek to brush your thumb over the skin, he looked down at you, completely forgetting about the movie playing. He grabbed your hand from his cheek and kissed your fingers, your palm, the back of your hand, the inside of your wrist.
Pulling yourself up to his face, you kissed him as softly as he’d done to your hand. Everything was so soft. From the way he kissed you to the way he caressed the skin under your hoodie right above the waistband of your shorts. From the hand you had in his hair to the way he lifted you to sit more comfortably in his lap.
He kissed your neck just as softly. You sighed contently. Fully basking in the way he took care of you. His movie was fully disregarded at this point as he gripped the bottom of your shirt.
Looking into your eyes he asked, “can I take care of you, love?” You nodded, helping him lift the sweatshirt over your head. 
Before you could even comprehend the nakedness of your chest, he lifted you into his arms and carried you to your shared bed. Laying you on your back. Your bare skin taking immense comfort in the softness of your sheet. He pulled his shirt over his head and threw his pants off to the side.
He immediately went back to kissing you. Hands moving from your cheeks, down your neck. His thumbs caressed your collarbone as his lips brushed the crook of your neck and then your shoulder. You shuddered when one of his hands took your breast. His lips met the other one, causing you to let out a breathy moan and weave your fingers through his dark hair.
He continued to kiss and touch every inch of your torso. When he got to your waistband, he left a small kiss under your belly button. His big brown eyes meeting your own as he pulled your shorts and underwear off together. Tossing them to the side of the bed. 
Lifting one of your legs onto his shoulder, he kissed your inner thigh, still meeting your eyes. The eye contact wasn’t broken until his thumb met your clit. Brushing over it slightly, making you toss your head back into the pillows under you. His mouth replaced his thumb, slowly teasing you. 
With his free hand, he took your own hand, the one that wasn’t gripping his hair, and threaded his fingers through yours. Thumb brushing over the back of your hand.
He felt so good. His tongue working so hard to make you feel pleasure. Everything was so gentle, but felt so euphoric. His fingers pumping in and out of you as he sucked on your clit. You felt like you could’ve floated away with the way he caressed your hand and your thigh. It wasn’t long before you were washed with a wave of pleasure. Everything was hot. You felt it rush through you from your ears down to your cunt. He kissed your thigh one more time after you came, fingers pushing you through the finale of your orgasm. 
Your breathing was ragged when he made it back up to your face, kissing you tenderly. Reaching a hand beneath the pillow under your head. He pulled out a condom. Before he could open it, you plucked it out of his hands, tearing it open as he stripped himself of his own underwear before you rolled the rubber onto his length. He groaned at the touch.
“You ready?” He asked, grabbing your arm and kissing your wrist.
You nodded, smiling, “yes. please, baby.”
When he pushed into you, you gasped and threw your head back again. He kissed your neck and shoulder, slowly thrusting into you. On most occasions, you’d beg him to go faster, but his subdued nature in this moment was so incredibly comforting. His thumb massaged your clit.
He kissed you deeply as he thrust into you. Completely overtaking your lips with his own. His kisses were so full of passion that your head spun. His adoration for you was so evident from the way he looked into your eyes when he stopped kissing you. Your foreheads pressed together, separated only by a thin layer of sweat. 
“I love you so much, y/n,” he says, just above a whisper. So close that you can feel his breath tickle your lips when he says it.
You moan softly, feeling yourself reach a second high, “I love you, too.”
It’s only a matter of minutes before you reach your orgasm. You grip his shoulders tight as he coaxes you through your climax. Walls fluttering around him as he finishes inside the condom. 
He kisses your lips once more before pulling out. He pushes himself off the bed to throw it away. When he comes back, he slides back into bed with you. Breath still slightly ragged. 
You laid on his chest, listening to his heart beat once more.
Running a hand over his stomach, you said, “Thanks for coming home early today.”
“Of course, love. You know I’d drop anything to come home to you if you were struggling.”
“I just feel like such a nuisance asking for you to come home,” you groaned.
He ran a hand over your hair, “I will never ever see you asking for help as a nuisance. Sometimes you just need a little push. Or sometimes you just need to lay in someone’s arms. I will always be there to do that for you. No matter the circumstance, ok?”
You wanted to protest, tell him he was too much, too good to you, but he kept going, “I trust you. I know that when you ask me to come home, it’s not because you're insecure or controlling. It’s because you need help, and I want you to always feel comfortable asking for it.”
He’d left you just a little bit speechless. All you could respond with was a gentle kiss on his lips.
For him, though, that was more than enough.
✭✭✭✭
note ✭ ok this shit got really personal 💀 but i did really enjoy writing it. it's not often that i write a whole oneshot in one sitting but i did today (other than my minor break to eat dinner).
also, i was actually between writing this for vernon or jongho because i felt like they both kinda fit the vibe (sorry if the knowledge that this could have been a hansol fic makes anyone sad), but maybe i'll write something similar for him next time i'm feeling it
again, i hope you enjoyed this! thank you so much for reading 💗
mwah~
543 notes · View notes
arvandus · 5 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Disobedience - Barbatos x afab!gn!reader
CW: 18+ MINORS DNI; Dom!Barb, Sub!Reader; tall coded Barbatos; mild choking; hair grabbing, pinning, kinky tail stuff; vaginal and anal fingering; vaginal sex; anal sex; reader’s first time doing anal; Barb is dom, but soft when it counts!
WC: 5,571
Special Note: This fic also has a AMAB!GN!reader version! Exact same premise, setting, and aftermath, but the smut is slightly different for obvious reasons. You can find it here!
Also, you can find the full version of the banner art (done by me) here! (it's NSFW but censored for tumblr).
Tumblr media
No sooner had the great castle doors closed behind the last guest, when Barbatos immediately spun on you. His stare was dark and oppressive, his cheeks flushed and lips tightly sealed. Diavolo was nowhere to be found, likely making a wise retreat as soon as he caught on to the thick tension between the two of you.
Barbatos’s hand was on the back of your neck in an instant, a firm pressure that you couldn’t escape as he began to guide you through the now-empty castle halls.
“Come, my dear. We have much to discuss.”
You had thought he’d take you to his room, to discuss the matter of your... mischief... privately within the safety of his personal space.
But you were quickly proven wrong as he steered you into one of the random empty rooms down the great hallway. You weren’t sure of its purpose, and you didn’t have time to contemplate it as he forcefully guided you into the dark space, the door swinging closed behind him. There was no sound of a latch, and a moment later a sliver of yellow light from the hallway lit the room just enough to make out his expression as Barbatos turned you to face him. His expression was devouring, his eyes feral and dangerous, a wild beast pushing against the cage of his control.
“Barbatos, the door—” you started.
But your words were cut short, devoured by his lips on yours, his tongue already laying claim to the inside of your mouth. His hands were holding your jaw, fingers curled towards the base of your neck, and all you could do was whimper at his onslaught.
Your legs felt like jelly, your head swimming dizzily as he pushed you back, back, until the backs of your legs hit the sofa that sat in front of the large fireplace, its hearth dark.
He didn’t care, you realized.
Which showed just how much you’d gotten under his skin at the dinner table. Because Barbatos always cared.
With your body pinned, his hands moved swiftly from your jaw to your waist. Immediately, his hands were pulling your teal RAD shirt from the waistband of your pants as he kissed you. Your own hands began working just as feverishly, forcing off his RAD tailcoat and fumbling at his tie. Your own blazer was swiftly being pushed off your shoulders as his lips moved from your mouth to your jaw, to your neck...
The sharp pain of teeth digging into your sensitive flesh made you hiss, your heart beating wildly in your chest as your hands gripped at his shoulders. It was followed by the warm, wet swipe of his tongue, lathing over his mark as if he were savoring the icing on a cupcake.
You were panting now, one hand around his neck with your fingers in his sweaty strands, just beneath the collar of his dress shirt. But just as you were about to let yourself get lost in the heady passion he was drowning you in, you felt his tail wrap around your neck and squeeze.
Your eyes flew open, wide and alert from their half-lidded state, and you swallowed your saliva, hoping it would take your fear with it.
Barbatos wouldn’t hurt you. You knew this, believed it with every fiber of your being. But being held in a chokehold by a demon brought forth your primal survival instincts in a way you couldn’t entirely ignore. You let the fear linger for only a moment, allowed your mind to catch up and process.
You could breathe.
Of course you could. As you knew, he wouldn’t hurt you. Now the sensation of his tail around your windpipe brought a different type of thrill into your veins, washing over the fear that had been present a moment prior.
Barbatos pulled away just enough to look down at you. His thumb stroked your cheek as he spoke.
“Such audacity, my little lamb...” he muttered. “What could possibly have inspired you to behave so foolishly?”
The foolishness in question? A secret game of footsie that you had initiated with him beneath the table as Prince Diavolo hosted the student council and some high-profile dignitaries. Barbatos had been sitting across from you, and in your boredom, had decided to tease him just a little bit. A quiet removal of your shoes, a soft brush of your toes against his ankle, slipping beneath the hem of his pants before retreating again....
The feeling of the tips of his tail sliding up and over your chin brought you immediately back to the present. They pressed against your lips, warm and wet, before forcing their way into your mouth. The slick tips swirled around your tongue, caressing and stroking before forcing your jaw open.
“Answer me,” Barbatos ordered.
His eyes stared at you, half-lidded, two glowing embers of green in the dark of the room. His tail slid out of your mouth, pulling your lower lip, now wet and plump, down. He stared intently as the soft flesh popped back into place upon its release, the tips of his tail returning to decorate your neck.
“I... I only wanted to tease you a little. No one saw... and I didn’t... I didn’t go too far...”
At least that was what you thought... you kept your quiet administrations to him below the knees, never past them despite the urge you had to push even further. You’d thought you were being so good...
“Too far?” he repeated. His tone was scolding and yet his hands were quickly undoing the buttons of your shirt. “Do you know what would have happened if we were caught?”
That earlier flare of defiance returned, fueled by the giddy joy you felt when you held the full weight of his attention. “You didn’t exactly stop me,” you cooed sweetly.
Barbatos’s eyebrows lifted slightly, his mouth curling into a dark grin. His hand came up and clutched your cheeks between his fingers, squishing the flesh. “You still choose to push me... how incredibly brazen of you, considering your current predicament.” He tutted at you, gentle tsks falling from between his closed teeth. “What has come over my sweet little lamb to make them so disobedient? Is this your way of being needy? Have I been neglecting my love for too long?”
Your breath hitched, his words bringing emotions up within your chest that frothed like flotsam on an angry sea. That wasn’t... that couldn’t be... could it?
No, no... you were fine. You were understanding, and patient, and....
And yet...
Barbatos caught the change in you instantly, and the quiet lust-fueled fury in his eyes flickered, allowing a momentary look of tenderness in his gaze.
His tail released your throat, and you felt its absence, the air of the room cold against your wet skin where his residue lingered. Then he kissed you again, just as hungry but less violent, and you clung to him, your hips pressing forward against him. He met your needy pressure in return, his hand on your breast while his other arm held you close.
“You foolish human,” he muttered against your lips. “All you simply had to do was ask...”
Your fingers had already undone the row of buttons of his shirt that you could reach.
Your eyes met his in the dark, the faint light of the hallway a halo around his head. “Barbatos, please....”
He smiled and kissed you again, his tongue deep and thorough, twining and swiping as if he could swallow your destitute pleas before they escaped your trembling lips. As he did so, his tail undid the back of his white cummerbund while his hands busied themselves with undoing the buckle of your pants, and then the button, and the zipper...
Your hands did the same as soon as the cummerbund was gone, fingers clumsy and frantic. But before you could slip your hand into his slacks to feel the warm weight of him, his hand snatched your wrist. He spun you around so your back was against him now, the couch in front of you, and his mouth was once again on your neck, sucking and nibbling. Barbatos’s hands caressed the planes of your body, moving from your chest and down over your ribs. It felt tender, and you sighed against it, your blood pulsing in your chest, in your veins, between your legs...
But then the tenderness vanished as his fingers hooked into the waistband of your pants, your underwear. In a fluid series of motions he yanked down the fabric and bent you over the arm of the couch by the back of your neck. You gasped at the sudden change in position, your arms tucked beneath you. Your cunt was exposed now, your pants bundled around your thighs.
You felt his body press against yours, curling over you like a blanket, matching the curves of you. His soft bangs tickled against your shoulder blade as his lips ghosted against your skin and you shivered, a whimper falling from your lips. Finally you felt his breath at your ear as his thumb massaged at your neck muscles in a slow, gentle circle.
“You wanted my attention and now you shall have it. All of it.”
Barbatos’s dexterous fingers of his free hand slid between your legs, stroking your folds. You were already so wet, your labia flushed and swollen, your body ready for him before he’d even pulled his cock out. Steadily, Barbatos pushed two of his fingers into you, and your walls clenched and fluttered as your breath caught in your throat.
“You will feel me in every inch of your body,” he whispered.  “That’s what you want, isn’t it? That’s why you misbehaved so shamelessly.”
You were frozen, air trapped in your lungs and burning a hole through your chest as you waited for more. Your walls clenched again around his fingers, but they stayed torturously still.
“Answer me,” he ordered again.
You nodded your head.
He chuckled low and dark.  “How very greedy of you...”
There was a silent pause, and time seemed to slow. You could hear Barbatos’s shaky breaths as his hand tensed against the back of your neck, pushing you deeper into the couch cushions. His groin pressed against you, still covered by his unbuttoned slacks and his underwear. His fingers were deep within you, and still there was no mistaking the hard bulge that pressed against your aching cunt, your clit throbbing at the contact.
“I warn you,” he said quietly, “I will not be gentle. Not this time. Not when you’ve tortured me to the point of madness. So tell me... are you certain this is what you want?”
You nodded again, more vigorously, and yet it wasn’t enough; not for him.
Barbatos clicked his teeth. “No, no...” his grip on your neck loosened and he rubbed his thumb tenderly against your cheek. “I must hear you say it.”
You swallowed the saliva that pooled in your mouth. “Yes,” you said. “Yes, I want this. I want you to ruin me, Barbatos, please.”
The weight of him left your back, his fingers left your cunt. There was a frantic moment of the sound of Barbatos’s belt buckle clinking as he shoved down the front of his pants to pull his cock out. Then he shoved into you with a single thrust.
That single action made the tension in you snap. You cried out, your back arching and head lifting as pleasure exploded from your core and washed you in instant fiery hot bliss. Had you been of sound mind, you might have felt embarrassed at cumming so quickly on his cock. But there was no time to recover, let alone think. Barbatos gripped one hip with a firm hand, fingertips digging into your skin, as the other grabbed you by your hair and pinned you back down into the couch. Then he set a brutal pace, his hips pounding against yours, bottoming out with each thrust. It instantly threw you into overstimulation, your body not yet recovered from your initial orgasm, and yet there was no way to fight it, no way to escape it. Not with the way he had you trapped beneath him, your own human strength useless against him. All you could do was cry and whine, unhinged sounds ripping from your throat as your tears escaped your closed eyes and your drool soaked into the couch.
Barbatos watched you, relishing in the sight of you beneath him, broken under the violence of your own pleasure while he chased his own. Your walls were tight around him, hot and comforting as the tip of his cock drove into the deepest depths of you. Already he could feel his own orgasm climbing rapidly, the hours of sexual tension finally reaching its precipice. His tail dipped between his legs, finding your swollen clit, and rubbed it in fast circles as your body spasmed. Broken pleas fell from your lips as your fingers clawing at the wine-colored upholstery.  It only spurred Barbatos to pin you down even harder, his hand switching from your hair to your shoulder, stripping you of every last ounce of power you pretended to have, subduing you entirely and preventing your escape.
You came a second time, this time your juices soaking his pounding cock, his balls, his thighs, absorbing into his clothes. He came with a groan, joining you in your shattered ecstasy, his rhythm becoming uneven, his hips stuttering as he filled you with his cum.
Barbatos’s thrusts began to slow, and your mind spun, dizzy and hazy, the aftershocks of your pleasure still making you spasm beneath his hands. Finally his hips stilled, and for a small moment, you both fell silent as you caught your breath. His hand released your shoulder as he straightened up and pulled himself out of you.
The room was thick with the scent of sex, and Barbatos stared at your sweaty form, limp across the couch. He drank in your beauty, reveled the way your body was marked by him. The fingerprints forming on your hips, the mark on your neck from earlier, and your cunt...
He watched intently as his cum began to leak out of you, pale and glistening. It coated your labia, your clit, and still it spasmed here and there, each one sending a small shudder up your spine as you lay beneath him, your eyes half-closed.
Barbatos tilted his head slightly, admiring, as his finger brushed against your sex, scooping his cum onto his digit. You flinched at the contact, and your eyes fluttered open to look back at him from the corner of your gaze. You were still too spent to try to move your head.
He kept one palm at your hip, a gentle hold compared to the finger-digging grasp of earlier, as he pushed his cum-covered finger back into your hole. You inhaled a shaky, broken breath, but didn’t object, and Barbatos smiled.
Were you still not satisfied?
Good. Neither was he.
Barbatos withdrew his finger and followed it up with a second, the push of his fingers making a lewd squelch around the cum that still filled you. You whimpered softly and your hips shifted back into his hand.
Slowly he began to pump his fingers in you, letting the sticky white coat his fingers to the knuckles. He watched, transfixed, his eyes raking over every inch of you. Still so much of you to explore, so much of you to claim. His free hand caressed the curves of your body before finally settling on your ass. It filled his palm and then some, and his gaze lingered, no longer focused on the thrusting of his fingers, but on the tight, puckered hole that tightened and relaxed with each swipe of his fingers in your wet heat. Curiously, his thumb pressed against the inside of your ass cheek, pulling it aside to allow him a better view.
Your body tensed, and this time, your head did turn to look back at him.
“B-Barbatos?”
He glanced up at you, the lust in his eyes rekindled until the irises glowed green with old magic.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asked.
You paused, your mind considering, and shook your head. “N-No...” you whispered. “But I’ve never... um...”
Barbatos allowed his thumb to brush feather-light against your tight hole and the muscle fluttered at the contact. Your breath hitched in your chest and your hips rocked back just slightly.
He hummed. “I told you earlier that you will feel me in every inch of you. I meant it.”
Your body shivered at the reminder, an electric chill that buzzed across your skin, making your flesh goosepimple and your hairs stand on end.
“Yeah,” you replied on a shaky breath, “but you also said you wouldn’t be gentle.”
The fire in his gaze mellowed, and his lips curved into something gentle and familiar. He leaned forward over you and planted a tender kiss to your shoulder. “I did say that, didn’t I? But not with this. I will be gentle. I promise.” There was a hesitant pause, and then he added, “However, please do not force yourself for my sake. I will only enjoy it if you do too.”
His words were the reassurance you needed, and after a moment you nodded your head. “Okay, yeah. I want to try. I’ve wanted to try it for a while now...”
He leaned forward further to reach your mouth, and you turned your head just enough to kiss him back. Before he pulled away, he said, “We can stop at any time. Just tell me.”
You released a relieved sigh and nodded. “Okay. I will.”
He stared at you a moment longer, giving you a moment to process your decision, before planting one more kiss to your shoulder blade.
Then he straightened up, his hand back on your ass, warm and gentle, and his fingers still buried in your messy cunt. He returned to the slow and steady pumping, and he once again brushed his thumb delicately against your asshole. He watched you intently as he did so, noting the way your brows furrowed, your lips parted, your closed fists tightened. He did it again and again, until only the signs of pleasure were present, your body no longer stiff with anxiousness. Once you were comfortable, he stroked you again, this time with a slightly more pressure, rubbing his thumb into a small circle. Again and again he repeated it, until you were once again relaxed.
Then he scooped his other fingers deep inside your cunt, let them brush against your sensitive walls, and slowly withdrew them, his cum gathered on his long digits. With his other hand and his tail prying your ass cheeks apart, he spread the warm juices over your puckered hole. Already his cock was throbbing again, hard and aching. You were so exposed to him, not an inch of you left unseen by his wanton gaze. This part of you was beautiful, too... you were so vulnerable, so trusting...
“Are you ready?” he asked.
Your eyes were closed in anticipation and you nodded.
Carefully, slowly, he pushed his index finger past your tight defenses, the cum easing the transition. He didn’t go far...just to the second knuckle, before pulling it out again slowly. His attention was focused, taking in how you gasped, how your back arched.
Again, he went in slowly, patiently. You breathed through it, a steady breath in your nose and out of your mouth. He repeated this entry and retreat, slowly increasing the pace. Your hips were starting to move back into his hand, and he smiled.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked teasingly.
“Mhmmm...” you hum.
“I’m glad.”
A gentle silence fell between you, with nothing but the soft sounds of his administrations and your breathing. Once you were panting heavily, Barbatos knew you were ready for more. This time, he curled his tail between his legs, their slick tips petting your neglected cunt. One tip flicked playfully at your clit and your body spasmed beneath him, his finger still in you, keeping you stretched. He gave a gentle ‘shhh, shhh’ to soothe you as the other tip slithered into your cunt, curling within you as deep as it could go until it filled you.
You whined, his name tumbling from your lips even as your hips tried to roll against him. But you were still bent over the arm of the couch, your movement limited, and Barbatos liked it that way. After all, your teasing earlier during dinner had stripped him of his control in a way he wasn’t accustomed to. This was setting things right, returning your dynamic to what it should be... you, his sweet, obedient lamb, and he your shepherd.
His tail filled you, stretching you, even as the dexterous tips played with your clit and rubbed the most sensitive parts of your inner walls. The added arousal of his tail’s attention made it that much easier for his second finger to join his first, stretching your virgin ass for him. You moaned as it went in, your muscles tensing again at the intrusion, even as you struggled to ride his tail to climax. Slowly he pumped his two fingers in you, allowed you to adjust to them, enjoy them.
He leaned over you slightly to get a better look at your flustered face.
“Would you like to cum like this?” he asked.
It took a moment for you to reply.
“Y-Yes... I mean, no, no... I want...” your words fell away, incomplete, and you turned your face into the couch cushion in embarrassment.
Barbatos’s smile shifted into a grin. “You want...?”
Your words were muffled into the cushion, but he heard them regardless. “I want you in me. I want to cum with you inside me.”
“Inside where?”
“Barbatooos,” you whined. “Don’t make me say it.”
Barbatos’s grip on your ass tightened and he stilled his fingers. “If you’re too embarrassed to say it, then you’re not ready to do it, sweetling.”
You wiggled your hips slightly, but it only caused Barbatos’s grip to tighten on you, stilling your movements.
“You’re doing this on purpose...” you grumbled.
“You seem to have forgotten that this is supposed to be a punishment,” he teased.
You huffed and pouted, and Barbatos waited, unswayed by your behavior.
Finally, you relented.
“I want your cock inside me.” A pause. “Please...”
Barbatos hummed. “There, now. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
His fingers returned to their motions as well as his tail, and your pleasure was reignited, your body once again writhing as best it could beneath him. The cum was cooling, becoming tacky while exposed to the cold air. Barbatos released a long, wet strand of saliva from his mouth that landed right on its mark, and then slowly added a third finger.
“Barbatoooos....” you whined again, your voice pitching in desperation.
“All in due time, my dear. You’ll get what’s promised. We shouldn’t rush these things.”
You panted beneath him, your pleasure building but never releasing, and now your legs were shaking, your upper half propped up onto your elbows as you adjusted your angle for him.
Finally, you were ready. He removed his fingers from your ass and wrapped them around the base of his cock. It was rock hard now, the veins nearly bursting, and he released a wanton sigh as he allowed himself a couple of indulgent strokes. Then he lined the tip with your waiting hole and paused.
“Are you ready?”
You nodded eagerly. “Yes, yes, pleeaase...”
Slowly Barbatos pushed his cock into you, centimeter by centimeter, inch by inch. You gasped deep, your lungs taking in air as you endured the stretch of him. Your hand flew back to reach for him blindly, and Barbatos’s free hand grabbed yours, his fingers intertwining with yours.
He pulled out just slightly, removed his tail from your cunt to drip more secretions onto your asshole, and then pushed back in a little further.
“Ba-Barbatos...” you sobbed, your voice rising in pitch.
The change in your voice made him pause, and his grip on your hand tightened as he clung to his restraint. His breaths were shaky now, his cock twitching, thigh muscles flexing with the need to bury himself in you. He tried to calm his racing heart, steady his voice.
“Do... do you need me to stop?”
You shook your head and tightened your grip on his hand.
Relief flooded him, and he relinquished his grip on the base of his cock to stroke your spine with the palm of his hand.
“We’re almost there, love,” he soothed. “You’re doing so well.”
Out again and then back in, and finally he bottomed out with a satisfied sigh, his balls pressed against your pussy. You let out a sigh as well, your body releasing some of its stiffness.
Barbatos waited, allowing you to get used to his presence, even as his cock pulsed inside you in time with his pounding heartbeat. He leaned over and planted a kiss to your back, your fingers still interlocked with his and the other hand, the one that had been inside you, now settled at your hip.
“You feel divine,” he murmured against your skin. Your eyes were closed as you hummed in agreement, and it pleased him to see your lips curl into a small smile.
Slowly, with his body still caging yours over the arm of the couch, he pulled out slowly and pushed back in. You moaned beneath him, and the sound of your pleasure went straight from his brain to his cock, and he growled.
“You test my restraint when you make noises like that, you know...” he muttered.
You chuckled beneath him and opened one eye to peer at him. “It’s not my fault you make me feel so good...”
Passion was quickly overwriting his brain, and Barbatos kissed your skin once more. Then he straightened himself up and began to properly fuck you, two hands planted firmly on your hips and his tail buried in your pussy.
He went slowly at first, half to help you finish adjusting to him, and half to relish this new part of you that you were letting him have. Your ass was so tight, choking his cock until every nerve of the sensitive head was singing in unison.
“Faster... please...” you muttered.
Barbatos had never heard sweeter words. He quickened his pace, letting himself enjoy you fully, and you panted beneath him as you let him take you.
The pleasure you felt was unlike any other. The burn of being stretched, mingled with an undercurrent of pleasure each time he hit deep inside you, combined with his tail fucking your needy cunt and playing with your clit... it was stimulation from all angles, sensations in places you’d never experienced before, creating a vortex of pleasure you were quickly losing yourself in.
Between the extended foreplay and the edging with his tail, it wasn’t long before your orgasm crashed over you, fiercer than any you’d had before. You cried out, tears in your eyes as your mind emptied of all thought, all senses, except for the feel of Barbatos in you, on you, his hips colliding with yours, his balls slapping against your cunt as it spasmed on his slick tail. It was like lightning, incinerating in its heat, decimating in its impact.
Barbatos followed soon after, his thrusts running on instinct, his grip on your hips tightening. His breaths turned into pants, heavy and loud, and you loved it, loving hearing his ecstasy, knowing how good you made him feel. Your name fell from his lips, blessing your ears as he finally lost his control, let himself get washed away entirely by the pleasure of you. He spilled his load into you, hot spurts coating your insides, and you moaned happily at the sensation.
Finally, his thrusts slowed to a stop, his grip on your hips loosened. Barbatos lingered in you for a long moment, his breaths heavy with adrenaline, before giving into to the post-coital bliss and laying himself over you. The heat of him was oppressive, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him to get off you just yet. You weren’t any better, your skin slicked with sweat and your own breaths coming out in ragged huffs. Lazily, your hand came up and tangled into his sweaty hair to scratch at his scalp, and he hummed contentedly into your shoulder.
As your head cleared, your speech returned.
“I think we ruined the couch,” you muttered into the cushion.
Barbatos chuckled and groaned, his voice reverberating through your ribs. “It will be replaced. However, I will make this room off limits until then.”
“Do you think Diavolo will be mad?”
Barbatos scoffed and began to push himself off of you. “Considering how many times he has ruined the furniture with similar activities, I hardly think he is in a position to judge. But no. I don’t think he will say anything, to be quite frank. We have both lived here a very long time and have our own unspoken agreements between us.”
His cock was soft now, but he still pulled himself out of you gently. You winced and his hands ran soothing strokes along your hips and your sides as you pushed yourself up from the couch. Your spine felt stiff, suck in that position for so long, and the stitching of the upholstery was imprinted into your skin in all the places he’d pinned you down.
Barbatos swiftly fixed his pants and belt then turned you slowly to face him. He smiled tenderly at you before putting his forehead against yours as his hands fixed your pants next, securing the button and buckling your belt for you. He kissed you, the touch of his lips soft, while his hands rested at your waist, and you pouted.
“You’re not going to make me do the walk of shame all the way to your room, are you?”
Barbatos chuckled as he picked up your coats and his cummerbund, careful to use his left hand and the pinky and thumb of his right.
“Of course not.”
You scrunched up your nose and winced. “Good. Because I’m oozing out of places I’ve never oozed before, and I’m pretty sure my underwear are ruined. Possibly even my pants.”
Barbatos stifled his laugh, his eyes glittering with amusement. “Well, had you appropriately waited to provoke me after the dinner instead of during, then perhaps this could have taken place with better preparation.”
You scoffed at him in mock appall. “So this is my fault?”
He grinned. “You cannot entice me so brazenly and not expect there to be consequences. Besides...” - he leaned closer to you, his arm with the coats wrapping around your waist - “You hardly protested once I had you bent over the sofa.”
You couldn’t stifle the laugh the slipped from your lips. “Barbatos!”
“Come now, enough,” he chided as he opened a portal to his bathroom. “Haven’t you bratted enough tonight? Or do you need a fourth round? Maybe a fifth?”
“What? It was only two,” you huffed defensively.
“Two for me, but don’t think I didn’t catch your first orgasm in the beginning.”
“That was a fluke!”
He cocked his head at you in amusement. “You are truly adorable, I hope you know. But fluke or not, it still counts, which brings your total to three.” His brow furrowed lightly in thought. “Although we will most definitely need to clean up before we continue...”
Your eyes widened in surprise. “Wha... are you serious??”
Barbatos’s arm reached out to guide you along with him, and he smirked devilishly. “I am a demon, my love. You have yet to scrape even the surface of my sex drive.”
You gingerly followed him through the portal.
“Does that mean you’re always horny but just never show it?”
Barbatos chuckled. “No. I am older, and it grants me more control than most. However, I am easily aroused, particularly when it’s with someone I care for. And demons can easily go multiple rounds for hours, unlike most humans.”
“I am both terrified and intrigued...” you muttered.
He chuckled again.
“Come,” he invited as he began to run his shower. “There will be plenty of time in the future to explore our limits. For now, let us cleanse ourselves and allow your body to rest. Some snacks are in order, as well as a special tea that will help with the aches and pains. And I shall have your clothing either cleaned or replaced, depending on their state.”
You let him begin to undress you as you placed your hands on his shoulders for balance. “Are you sure you’re a demon and not an angel?”
He paused, devoting his full attention to you. “I am what I am. But most importantly, I am yours, and you are mine. You are most precious to me. And I always treat my precious things with the utmost care.”
His words made your heart twist, and you touched his smooth cheek with your fingers and gave him a tender kiss on the lips.
When you pulled back, you were smiling at him, tears in your eyes.
“You are most precious to me too, Barbatos.” ------
Taglist: @hymnbook @chiekoisbread
187 notes · View notes
starboye · 6 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
pairing: rafe cameron x male reader
summary: rafe taking care of a drunk you at a party and you thank him for his actions in a sexy way
warnings: smut, oral sex, lil angst, degrading, lil fluff, and something else idk though + a whole lot of cringe writing
a/n: this is the first ever story i wrote and posted on tumblr i found so dont judge me
word count: 2.4k
"Do we seriously have go to this party Rafe" you say as he gets out of the Uber along with other friends. "Yes y/n Topper invited me and if I have to deal with this then so do you" Rafe says as he begins to walk towards the house party while tugging you along. As you approach the house Topper comes out of the house and greets all of you.
"Hey guys, welcome to the party" he says as he slightly slurs his words probably due to the alcohol. "Make sure to have some fun" he also says as he motions you all into the house, as you enter the house the sound of music becomes louder and louder with the smell of alcohol overwhelming everyone's senses.
"I hate this already" you says as he begins to walk towards the kitchen for the drinks as rafe follows close behind, while everyone else in the group goes their separate ways. You enter the kitchen and make two shots of vodka for yourself and Rafe.
Let's try not to get hella drunk tonight okay" Rafe says as he takes the shot. "We'll see" you say as you take the shot, visibly wincing at the taste. As you start to feel the effects of the drink Rafe drags you to the living room to dance. He grabs you by the waist and begins to dance with you, but you push him off. "What's wrong y/n" Rafe says as he backs up a little, "Our friends are right there" you say as you look around nervously, not wanting anyone to find out you're dating rafe cameron.
"C'mon baby it's not like anyone is gonna care what we do" Rafe says as he slowly makes his way back to holding you. "And plus I want everyone in this party to know who you belong to" he says as he whispers in your ear and squeezes your ass.
You jolt at the feeling and run to the kitchen to get another drink, you pour yourself two shots and take one but as you're about to take the second one you hear a voice "y'know you probably shouldn't be taking that many shots" the voice says, you turn around and lough and behold it's Topper.
"And who are you to tell me how many shots I can take Topper" you say as you look up at the obviously drunk man. "I mean I wouldn't want some guy taking advantage of a sweet little thing like you" Topper says as he moves closer to you
"Thanks but I think I'll be fine on my own" you say as you make another drink, "Really... you here with anyone special tonight" the man says as he slides your drink away from you. "Nope just some friends" you say as you slide your drink back to you while looking visibly annoyed. "Well do you think your friends would mind if me and you went to our own room" Topper says as he begins to lick his lips and undress you with his eyes. "No I think I'm good" you say as you try and get up due to feeling uneasy. "C'mon don't act like that" the drunken boy says as he grabs your arm and doesn't let go. You try and wiggle out of his grip but it tightens, "Let go of me you fucking weirdo" you say as you try and yank your arm away but you can't break Topper's grip.
Rafe takes notice of this and runs to your aid. "Hey let go of him!" Rafe yells as he punches Topper in the face. "What the fuck dude I was just flirting with him" Topper yells as he holds his bruising face and begins to stand up. "Are you guys banging or something" Topper says with a smile on his face, as he says this rafe is about to punch him but you stop him. "Rafe just let it go" you say slightly drunk but still conscious.
Your friends run over to check on you. "What happened" one of them ask, "Nothing just a little dispute" Rafe says as he holds you up from your drunkenness. "Is y/n okay" another friend ask. "Yeah I'm fine just a little tired" you say as you slut some words, "We should probably go then" the friends say. "No no no you guys stay and have fun I just need to lay down" you say as you lean more on rafes shoulder for support.
Don't worry I can take care of him" rafe says as he looks down at you with caring eyes. "Yeah I think there's a empty room upstairs" your friend suggests. "Okay then you guys go have a good time I got y/n" rafe says as he helps you up the stairs. He searches for an empty room but along the way walks in on some couples 'having fun' until he finally finds an empty room.
He walks in and lays you on the bed as you lie awake but drunk and slightly tired. "Thanks for carrying me up the stairs" you say to the caring and courageous man. "It was no problem Topper was just being a major dick to you" he angrily says as he lays next to you in the bed, you roll over to look at rafe, staring into his light blue eyes and admiring his soft skin and hands. "Just saying what you did was really hot, you were like my knight in shining armor" you say as you scoot closer to rafe.
"Oh really now? It was hot you say" rafe says as he looks you up and down liking his lips, "How hot?" Rafe asks as he grabs you by the hips and drags you on top of him, both of your knees straddling his lap. "This hot" you say as you lean down and kiss rafe passionately, "You wanna show me that is more detail" rafe asks as his hands make their way to your ass, squeezing and gripping it roughly.
As you're kissing rafe you almost fall but rafe catches you, "Don't worry baby I got you" he says as he brings you back to your original position now moving his hands to your hips for stability as you move your hands to his chest, slightly squeezing them along the way. You both then pull back for an air break, "Wanna take this a little further" rafe says while breathing heavily as he tugs at your shirt. "Always" you say as you quickly take off your shirt and pants, now being left in only your underwear, and rafe follows suit, now being left in his boxers.
Rafe admires your body in shock, sliding his hands up and down your chest all the way back down to your ass, "You're so hot baby,I just can't resist you" he says as he leans up to kiss you again. You lean into the kiss as you push rafe into the bed, then moving to his neck as you leave hickeys up and down it, as you do this you hear his breathy moans signaling for more. "You're so beautiful rafe, do you know that" you say as you lift from your attack on his neck
You're more beautiful y/n" he says as he grabs your hips and grinds your ass on his growing boner making you moan out. "You like that don't you babe" he says in a seductive voice as he continues to admire your body. "Yes daddy" you say unknowingly, making rafe stop abruptly which makes you whine out "rafeee why did you stop" you ask. "Did you just call me daddy" rafe ask as he looks up at you with hornyness in his eyes, I comes back to you that you called him daddy, "What, you like being called daddy" you say seductively to him, making him grind your ass on his clothes dick harder.
You want my dick?" rafe asks you as he moves to groping your ass again. "Yes please" you whine as you paw at rafes underwear, wanting it off immediately. Rafe then looks up at you as he removes his underwear, signaling you to remove yours leaving you both now completely in the nude.
You then slowly grab rafes dick and admire it and then you begin pumping it up and down, which slightly draws moans out of rafe. "Faster" rafe brokenly says, making you pick up the pace now jerking rafe off at a fast pace making him break out into moans. Rafe now thrusting into your palm for more friction, desperately wanting to cum. "M'gonna cum" rafe moans out so signaling you too remove your hand just before he bursts. "Y/nnn" rafe whines out "what was that for" he says as he lifts up.
For the main event" you say as you straddle his lap again, now with your ass right against his rock hard dick. "You ready?" you say as you guide his dick to your hole, as he nods you sink onto his dick, drawing a loud moan out the both of you which is luckily covered up by the loud music. "Oh fuckkkk y/n you feel so good" rafe yells out, feeling you up and down as you ride him "you feel even better daddy" you whine to him. Saying this releases some animal inside rafe, making him flip you over onto your back with him on top, "Call me that again" rafe orders, "Daddy you feel so good deep in me" you say confidently making him grip your hips roughly and pound into you at an animalistic pace. You begin moaning out loudly, resulting in rafe taking his boxers and shoving them into your mouth to shut you up.
"Harder" you muffledly say through the boxers, "You want me to pound this hole harder slut" rafe says in a low but commanding tone, "mhmm" you moan. After you say this rafe begins to assault your hole harshly making you moan messily "Oh yeahhh baby let me hear those sweet moans you can make" rafe says as he leaves some hickeys on your neck. "Who's little slut are you y/n" rafe says seductively as he takes the gag put of your mouth, "you daddy, only yours" you moan.
That's right and who will be the only one filling this hole" rafe says as he wraps his hands around your neck. "You daddy, your the only one that can fuck me right" you moan and whine out as you try and stay sane from the constant fucking. "I'm gonna cum baby where do you want it" rafe asks as his thrusts into you become more and more sloppy. "In me, I want it deep in my hole rafe" you cry out, "ask and you shall receive" rafe lowly says as he picks up the pace even more and begins fucking your hole numb. After a short while rafe yells out "Here I comes y/n" as he floods your hole with cum as you both moan loudly and you cum just shortly after.
You both plop back on the bed, rafe then pulls out of your hole, leaving the cum to drip out of your fucked body. You both lay there tired out, still drunk,and covered in sweat, "that was really fun" I say as I drift off to sleep, "yeah that really was" rafe says as he breaths heavily. Rafe looks over to you and sees that you feel asleep "oh shit" rafe whispers to himself as he gets up and puts his clothes before sneaking out the room to the bathroom. Rafe sneaks into the bathroom and grabs a rag and a bowl of water before then running back to the room, there he admires your sleeping body as he wipes the sweat, cum, and other bodily fluids while stealing a few touches here and there. After he finishes wiping you off he puts your clothes back on, making sure to be very thoughtful of your slumbering body before picking you up bridal style and carrying you out of the room.
As rafe makes it downstairs your friends approach him, "Is y/n okay" one friend asks. "Yeah he's fine just a little worn out" rafe says as a grin spreads across his face "We're just gonna uber home" rafe continues as he adjusts grip on you. "Okay I'll call one for you" another friends speaks as they pull their phone out and orders the car. After a few minutes of waiting the Uber pulls up to the house and rafe walks to the car, as he opens the door he slides you in lightly before getting in the car himself. "Hey bro can you make sure to drive slow, i don't wanna wake my boyfriend" rafe asks the driver nicely as the driver agrees to his request. After about half an hour you arrive at rafes house, when the driver pulls up to estate rafe carefully carries you out the car before he turns and enters the house, he walks up the stairs quietly as not to alert the other sleeping occupants of the home.
As he makes it to his room he lays you down on the bed trying not to wake you up but you subsequently wake up not knowing where you are, "Rafe?" you call out "I'm right here babe" rafe reassures you as he caresses your back lightly. "What happened" you say groggily as you rub your eyes to fix your blurry vision, "You fell asleep at the party" rafe says lightly "Ohhh yeahhh the party that was fun, especially our fun" you say as you smirk while reminisce on the passion fueled time "You can say that again" rafe chirps as he chuckles at the comment, "But I think its time we go to bed" rafe says as he lays down with a long sigh, now comfortable in his own bedroom while he pulls you closer to him. "Hey rafe" you lightly speak "yeah y/n" rafe answers back, "thanks for the great time tonight" you say as you turn around and kiss him passionately before turning back over and drifting to sleep while tightly wrapped in his arms, "you're welcome love" rafe says as he falls asleep while nestled in the nook of your neck.
286 notes · View notes
victoria-daydreams · 8 months ago
Text
The Winner Takes It All||Challengers
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
AN: So, I finally I got to see Challengers yesterday and boy do I have thoughts that may or may not be weaved into the story, things still might be ooc or wrong. Also, I'm warning y'all now, I know absolutely nothing about tennis/college and partook in half ass research on how the sport functions.
Based this fic off the most gut wrenching ABBA song because it fits so well with the story. I hope you all enjoy this mini series, don't know if I did it justice from translating this from my head onto Tumblr, but we move. And hopefully there aren't any spelling or grammar errors, but if there are, we die like men.
A playlist for this series is coming soon!
Word Count: 3.5k
Trigger Warnings: mentions of colorism and racism
Taglist: @seriousaliysa @hopless-y @malscorner @miximora @urfavesim @mmmunson @jackierose902109 @youngestxhearts @blkdivinefeminine @kailkailz @lottiematthewsceo @lonnie2390147 @begoniaespresso @everydayimagineer @pnkstalli @softimgyu @amethystwonders11 @hazbinh0e @ysuftmikey
I tried to tag everyone who commented, but tumblr is being weird so I don't know if you'll get the notification.
Part One: Sugar & Spice
With her arms folded across her chest, Gianna's eyes were glued to the TV screen in front of her as two male sports analysts began to discuss their pick for match of the day.
"Oh man, this right here was my favorite today!" one analyst stated excitedly.
"For sure! It was the match to watch as the tennis world bore witness to the next up-and-coming tennis star," the other commentator agreed.
The camera cut away from the men and to the highlights of the mixed doubles championship match.
"Out the gate Gianna Langdon, ranked number five in girls singles, set the the tone for the day with a powerful ace to start the match,"
A clip of the opening minute of the match is put on the screen with Gianna throwing the ball high in the air for the first, and perfectly executed serve, followed by her pumping her fist in triumph with a grin.
"From there, she and her partner, Max Sullivan, kept their opponents, Roy Christians and Marie Riviera on the back foot for what seemed like the entire match,"
Gianna studied the way she nimbly moved around on the grass court, her swift volleys, sharp serves, and effortless backhands left no room for doubt that she was a force to be reckoned with.
"Play of the match goes to none other than Gianna Langdon, with this volley to put the nail in the coffin of this championship," the analyst reported, as the final moments of the match popped up on the screen.
With a powerful strike, the tennis ball was slammed back over the net by Roy onto Gianna's side of the court. Roy's hit lifted the ball high into the air forcing Gianna to reposition herself and backpedal to the spot to return it. Leaping up, Gianna smashed the ball down with force, out of reach from both Marie and Roy, the game winning hit. The clip replayed, but only this time in slow motion, so viewers at home could properly admire the athleticism on display. ESPN then did a jump cut of Gianna and Max both dropping their rackets simultaneously before rushing towards each other to embrace. Max even lifted up her a bit, twirling them around as they celebrated their victory.
The camera panned back to the two commentators who were wrapping up their coverage of the tournament.
"Honestly, Gianna Langdon just dominates the tennis field for her age group whether it's single or doubles," the commentator complimented, gathering his papers up in his hands and tapping it against the desk.
Gianna's lips lifted at the praise, its rare she gets her flowers as a tennis player.
"She's a force to be reckoned with, no doubt about that. If she keeps playing like she is now, she can easily break into the top three, but she's no Tashi Duncan," the other commentator corrected.
At this, her smile instantly fell off her face. Since freshman year of high school, Gianna has forever lived under the inescapable shadow of the phenomenal, powerhouse that is Tashi Duncan. Because Tashi wasn't just some athlete, she was the athlete. The next Serena Williams, as some people taken to calling her. Gianna might as well been chopped liver.
The girls have been thick as thieves since Gianna moved to the same school as Tashi and was paired up by their coach to be doubles partners. The duo were unstoppable on the court, as Gianna was a tennis prodigy in her own right, but often was relegated to just being known as Tashi Duncan's partner. A repeated slight which didn't go unnoticed by her two strongest supporters, her parents. They made it their mission to drill Gianna with an unshakable sense of self confidence in not only her skills with a tennis racket, but also her appearance.
"Don't you ever let the media or naysayers play in your face about your talents, Gianna," her father's words echoing in her head. "You already know, you have to work twice as hard to get half the recognition compared to others," he went on.
Gianna recalled the exact day, he gave her this speech. She was probably fifteen and won a match against some Eastern European girl, it was an upset, and boy did everyone make it a point to tell her so. It ranged from backhanded compliments to outright slurs lobbed at her.
"Oh, so when Tashi pulverizes her opponent on the court who's ranked higher than her it's admirable, but when I do it's a problem!" she complained.
"Competing against Tashi, you need to be prepared that narratives are going to be formed and pushed from factors beyond your control," her father warned. "She's lighter, you're darker. She's thin, you have curves. You're both confident, but only one of you is going to be labeled as arrogant," he listed.
"It's a shame we didn't get to see Duncan and Langdon compete together in girls doubles this year," the analyst said, snapping Gianna out her thoughts.
"Agreed, the best girl duo in juniors we've seen in years,"
Images of Gianna and Tashi materialized on the screen, some were from the last two Junior US Open Championships; both of the, proudly beaming and holding their trophies high above their heads and kissing each other's cheek. But, the one picture that stood out the most to Gianna was their cover on Tennis. Both of them had their arms folded and their game faces on with the headline emblazoned below them.
“Sugar & Spice”
~~~x~~~
Rounding the corner of the hallway, the doors where Tashi's party was being held outside came into Gianna's view. Music and the low murmur of voices floated out of the room, bouncing off the walls as she drew closer. From the corner of Gianna's eyes, she caught her reflection in the hallway mirror promoting her to stop. A pair of eyes, identical to color of rich, molasses stared back at her. Carefully, Gianna studied herself in the mirror from every angle. The healthy glow of her golden, deep brown skin made the light dusting of freckles decorating her upper cheeks and nose more prominent.
"She's no Tashi Duncan,"
It only took those four, little words to dampen Gianna's cheery demeanor and leave her brooding since the afternoon.
Lips pursed, she shook her head slightly, "No, no, no," she whispered to herself. "You're still a champion, Gianna. Fuck that ESPN analyst," she said lowly, smoothing out the pale yellow halter dress she wore.
Letting a lopsided grin grow on her lips, Gianna moved away from the mirror and entered into the ballroom where the party was in full swing. She weaved her way through the crowd to find Tashi, but found herself stopping repeatedly to smile and shake hands as people crowded round her to congratulate her on her match. Gianna couldn't help but feel smug. For once, people were basking in her presence and enjoying the chance to meet a future tennis star in person. It boosted Gianna's ego—a pure, bone-deep satisfaction that something in the air was beginning to shift.
She was starting to be seen as a standout player, not just an extension to Tashi.
Thanking her last well wisher, Gianna's eyes met Tashi's who was a few feet from where she stood. A flicker of recognition flittered across her face and she smiled a tiny smile. Tashi was not alone though, two boys were standing in front her and seemed to be having a very lively conversation.
"What's this I see?" Gianna wondered aloud, brushing past one of the boys. "I'm gone for a minute and you're already making new friends without me," she joked, dropping into the empty chair next to Tashi.
Across from her, both boys were slack jawed and unable to tear their eyes away Gianna. Pride simmered in her chest, Gianna already knew that she was beautiful, but it was nice to be reminded of that fact every now and then. Especially, when there's two boys ogling at her looks and treating her like a divine being.
"You boys gonna stop staring and introduce yourselves, or what?" Gianna questioned, her words flavored with a lulling Louisiana drawl and the boys snapped from their stupor.
"Let me, these two seem to be malfunctioning," Tashi cut in, with a smirk.
"They keep on drooling any longer, they'll catch flies," Gianna quipped, her nude colored lips curling upwards.
Tashi motioned to the dark haired boy with sharp features, "This is Patrick Zweig," she introduced, as Gianna's eyes met Patrick's gray ones, holding her stare and grinning widely. Confidence that bordered on cockiness practically radiated off him. "And this is Art Donaldson," Tashi continued, gesturing to the boy next to Patrick.
Art only allowed himself a small, shy, smile when her eyes shifted over to him. Unabashedly, Gianna let her eyes roam over Art's features. Those blond curls, those blue eyes.
God, they're both gorgeous.
Tashi placed her hand on Gianna's knee, "Patrick and Art, this is my best friend—" she started.
"Gianna Langdon," Patrick and Art interjected simultaneously, causing a Cheshire grin to form on Gianna's lips.
"Well, well, my fan club only continues to grow this tournament," Gianna joked, playing with the curly ends of her pick and drop braids.
"Deservedly so, you were absolutely amazing this tournament," Art complimented, a breathy chuckle leaving him.
"That play when you landed a split after playing a return," Patrick mentioned, beaming at her. "And you still got the point, fucking incredible!" he praised, shaking his head.
She smiled, "Oh, so you two have been avidly watching my matches then?" Gianna questioned, playfulness in her voice while slightly leaning forward in her seat.
"Ashamedly, not initially," Art admitted, and Gianna quirked brow. "But after your storybook comeback in Round 4, we knew there was no way we couldn’t stop watching you," he added quickly.
"Singles or doubles," Patrick chimed in.
"Did you by chance watch any of our matches, Gianna?" Art asked timidly, staring at her with hopeful eyes.
She smirked, "Singles or doubles?" Gianna asked back, smoothly echoing Patrick's words.
"Either," Patrick responded, his eyes drinking her in.
They both seemed mesmerized. Leaning in closer, as if they were going to learn her with their close proximity. Gianna hummed thoughtfully, leaning back in her chair and raising a finger to her chin to mull over the question. She glanced over to Tashi, who was already watching her with an amused expression. Embarrassingly, Gianna kind of forgot her best friend was literally sitting next to her, she had become too engrossed in her conversation with the newcomers.
"No, can't say that I have," Gianna answered finally, with a shrug.
Art deflated, his face falling as the tips of his ears went fiery red, while Patrick's shoulders sagged a little.
"O-Oh," Art breathed.
There was a silence. Gianna looked off to her side again to see a ghost of a grin threatening to appear on Tashi's face. When the two girls' eyes connected with each other, they burst out laughing at the same time. Both boys looked at each other wordlessly, both speechless by this.
"Gia's just fucking with you two," Tashi explained, in between laughter.
Relief couldn't have been written across their faces more clearly.
"Yeah, I actually watched your championship match while I was in the recovery room," Gianna informed, her giggles subsiding. "Your between the legs shot was very inspired, Patrick," she remarked, with a smile.
At this, Patrick puffed out his chest a bit.
"You know, they're playing against each other tomorrow in the boys singles championship match," Tashi mentioned, her eyes bouncing between the boys.
"Are they now?" Gianna responded, an intrigued smirk gracing her face while crossing one leg over the other.
"We are!" Art blurted out, almost too eagerly.
"You both should come and watch," Patrick suggested.
Gianna cocked her head to the side, "Hmm, maybe," she answered, having a little fun toying with them.
Tashi rose from her chair, reaching her hand out for Gianna's.
"Come on, my dad is waving me over to come take pictures," Tashi informed.
"This is a group activity?" Gianna questioned, her brows furrowing.
"No, but the demand for Gianna Langdon is ever growing," she reminded, her eyes filled with mirth.
"It sure is," Gianna agreed, taking her hand as her friend helped her to her feet. Gianna looked over to Patrick and Art. "Well, ciao. It was nice meeting y'all," Gianna said, waving goodbye as Tashi led her away.
"Goodbye?" Patrick jokingly scoffed. "We'll be here all night!" he called out after her.
~~~x~~~
True to their word, Patrick and Art were in the same spot where Gianna and Tashi had left them earlier and they were more than willing to continue hanging out with the girls. Which is how the group of four found themselves on the beach, slowly treading along the sand, the dark blue sky and millions of stars above them. Naturally, Tashi had found herself in the middle of the group with Patrick flanking on her left and Art on her right.
Gianna was next to Art and as they walked, their arms would accidentally brush against each other every now and then. Both of them exchanging shy smiles at the fleeting contact that sent butterflies fluttering in Gianna's stomach. She secretly relished the contact from Art, he radiated warmth similar to that of a dryer-warm blanket; a nice contrast to the cool sand between her toes.
"You know earlier, Tashi asked us who was fire and who was ice," Patrick spoke, looking over to Gianna. "I figured I should return the favor, between the two of you, who's sugar and who's spice?" he asked, his eyes bouncing from Tashi to her.
"Tashi, is definitely 'spice'," Gianna answered, and Tashi rolled her eyes with a smile. "She's more fiery than me and has a more aggressive play style than I do," she explained.
"Making you 'sugar', of course," Art reasoned, the two staring at one another. "You are the perfect mix of deadly grace and effortless balance on the court," he described, going in an almost dreamlike trance.
"Why, thank you Art," Gianna said, bumping her arm into his.
"If Tashi is 'spice' and your 'sugar', why does the media switch it around?" Patrick wondered.
"Preconceived notions, methinks," Gianna replied, simply shrugging her shoulders.
They wandered along until they settled on a spot to hang out at. Art and Patrick both sat in deck chairs while Tashi and Gianna perched themselves on a large rock. Conversation flowed between all them on a myriad of topics ranging from college, life in general, and of course tennis.
"So Gianna," Patrick began, a small curious and mischievous glint in his eyes. "Your doubles partner Bryce—"
"It's Max," Gianna corrected flatly, with a laugh.
He smirked, "I was in the ballpark," Patrick argued, throwing his hands up. "Anyways, you and Max, you two a thing?" he asked curiously, before taking a drag of his cigarette.
"Eww, no!" Tashi exclaimed, her nose twisting in disgust. "You think Gia has such low standards?" she asked back, clearly offended on Gianna's behalf.
"Tashi, come on, Max is not that bad of a person," Gianna stated, lifting her hand up to tell her to calm down.
"Honestly, I don't know how she does it," Tashi went on. "It's a miracle she can still walk after carrying Max through this entire tournament," she sneered.
"Look, Max is not someone who I would consider as an ideal mixed doubles partner," Gianna conceded, her gaze meeting everyone's. "He's mediocre actually," she said bluntly, making Patrick and Art both snicker. "However, Max as an individual and not as an athlete, he's a wonderful guy," she said, with a slight shrug. "Us dating has never once crossed my mind," she finished, waving her hand dismissively.
"So it sounds like you'll be in need of a new partner soon," Patrick hinted, a hunger in his stare.
"Hmm, I guess I will," Gianna agreed, letting a coy smile grow on her lips. "You know anybody?" she asked, tilting her head a little.
"I can think of two people off the top of my head," Art responded, taking a drag of his own cigarette and blowing it out slowly.
"Oh, is that so? And who just—" Gianna started.
Suddenly, Gianna's phone began noisily vibrating in her lap, putting an end to the playful between the boys and Gianna. She picked up her phone and flipped it open before exhaling heavily, it was her dad texting her.
"Shit, fun's over guys," Gianna announced, with another sigh. "My dad wants me back in my room," she explained, unfolding her legs.
"Your won a championship today, and you're father won't let you stay up late to celebrate?" Patrick asked in disbelief, leaning forward in his chair.
"Obviously, you don't know my father if you think a single championship win is going to get him to loosen his reins on his regimented schedule for me," Gianna stated, grabbing her sandals and letting them dangle from her fingers.
"You're about to be off to Stanford, it's insane your dad is giving you a curfew," Art chimed in.
"Well, I'm not at Stanford yet," Gianna pointed out. "And also..." she trailed off, turning to Tashi who had a knowing look on her face. "His roof, his rules," they both said in unison, after hearing those words countlessly over the years.
Finally standing up from the rock, the boys followed suit. Both of their gazes traveled the length of Gianna yet again, as if they needed to commit her to memory.
"I can walk you back to the ferry and to your hotel," Art offered kindly.
"We both could," Patrick volunteered.
"As much as I am flattered that both of you want to walk me back, I can manage just fine," Gianna assured. "Plus, we're all going to be playing an unwanted game of 21 questions if my dad sees two, random white boys walking me to my room," she remarked, with a chuckle.
Tashi pushed herself up onto her feet, "I'll come with you, Gia,"
"No, no stay, Tashi," Gianna encouraged. "Don't end the fun on my account," she insisted. "Another time will come about for all of us to hang out again, right?" she questioned.
A toothy grin broke out on Patrick's face, "There's gonna be another time?" he asked
"I don't see why not," she answered, mirroring his expression. "The three of us are going to be at Stanford together, and I'm sure you come visit from time to time. It all works out so well!" Gianna said excitedly.
Art opened his mouth to speak, but the shrill ringing of Gianna's phone silenced him. Looking down at the phone, she grimaced slightly.
"Shit, I really have to go, my dad is calling now," Gianna stressed.
"Then get going," Tashi prompted, playfully swatting her bottom.
A surprised whoop escaped Gianna's lips before morphing into a giggle as she began to half-walk, half-jog away from the group. She spun around to face them, continuing to walk backwards.
"This was really fun y'all, we should do this again, yeah?" she yelled.
"I look forward to it!" Art yelled back.
"Me too!" Patrick shouted.
Laughing, Gianna spun around and jogged away, all too aware of the three pair of eyes boring into her back.
~~~x~~~
Propped up against the hotel bed headboard, Gianna was tucked underneath the blankets with a well-worn copy of Baking with Julia in her hands. If tennis was her first love, then baking was her second. There was nothing more relaxing than to Gianna than being able to slow down and just allowing herself to focus on precision, without any of the heightened stakes that came with tennis. Not to mention, beating eggs or whisking a cake were great ways to rid herself of any frustration she may be feeling.
A series of rhythmic knocks on her door pulled Gianna from her musings. She didn't even have to ask who it was, she could tell by the pattern of the familiar knock.
"Just use the card I gave you, Tashi," Gianna called, her voice just loud enough for her to hear.
There's a quiet click of the door unlocking before the door opened a crack and Tashi's head popped into her room, a shit eating grin on her face.
"Hurry up and get in here, before my dad sees!" Gianna ordered, with a laugh.
Closing the door behind her, Tashi pranced over to Gianna and sat beside her on the floor on the edge of her bed.
"Tell me everything! What happened after I left?" Gianna asked, a smile of her own on her face.
"They invited me to come up to their room,"
"And you went?"
"I did," Tashi answered, a smirk on her lips.
Gianna landed a playful hit on Tashi's arm, "No fucking way!" she whispered, her eyes wide. "You hooked up with both of them?"
"I didn't sleep with them," Tashi corrected. "We only made out, and then they made out," she added, smirking proudly.
Gianna raised an eyebrow, "They made out? Patrick and Art?" she questioned.
"Yep," Tashi grinned.
"On their own or did they have some help?" Gianna asked, arching a brow.
Wordlessly, Tashi plucked Gianna's book from her hands and she straddled her, resting each leg on either side of Gianna.
"They did most of the heavy lifting, I just gave them the push they needed," Tashi explained, looping her arms around her friend's neck.
"Now, I'm a little jealous. I missed out on all the fun," Gianna complained, sticking out her lower lip in a mock pout.
"Gia babe, don't worry, I did not forget about you," Tashi reassured, as Gianna hands came to rest on Tashi's thighs. "Remember their match tomorrow?" she reminded.
"Yeah,"
"Winner gets my number…." Tashi trailed off, removing her right arm from around Gianna's neck. "And yours," she finished, lightly tapping the tip of her nose.
A slow smile spread across Gianna's lips as Tashi's words sunk in. She knew exactly what her friend was up to, especially if it meant Tashi could watch some "real fuckin' tennis".
"Tashi Duncan, the girl that you are," Gianna praised, letting out a chuckle.
Leaning forward, Gianna planted a soft kiss on Tashi's lips. It was only meant to be a quick peck, but as Gianna went to pull away, Tashi held her face, keeping their lips connected.
Tashi withdrew herself from Gianna, "Tomorrow is gonna be so fucking good," she grinned, her eyes twinkling at the thought. "And guess what is the best part about all of this, Gia?" she questioned, their forehead resting against each others.
"What?'
"We already have them wrapped our fingers, without even trying," Tashi answered, sending the girls into a fit of giggles.
Part II: Maneaters
395 notes · View notes