#what's that object around scissors you ask

[regularponyfan]

I made this for Carlos Alazraqui's birthday today:

[seospicybin]

THE FUCKBOY NEXT DOOR.

PART 2

Bangchan x reader. (s)

Chapters: Part I / Part III

Synopsis: To help you moving on from your break-up, Chan takes you out for a night. However, he doesn't expect you will find a potential new love in someone else. (9,5k words)

Author's note: Here's one you've been asking for. Please tell me what you think about it! Nevertheless, enjoy x

"I think we're done for the day, huh?" You sigh in relief after dumping the dirty towels into the laundry bag and tossing it to the back room.

"No, actually, someone just walked in and wanted a haircut," your co-worker says while holding a stack of clean towels in front of her.

"Keem can have it," you resolve, you've finished all of your appointments for the day, and you're tired and ready to go home.

"Yeah, that's the problem. He specifically asked for you," your co-worker answers, putting the towels into the shelf full of them.

You plant your hands on each side of your waist and shoot a puzzled look at your coworker, "Huh?"

Is this customer aware that the salon is about to close and there's another hairstylist on duty? That exciting feeling of getting home soon is slowly fading as you head in to meet this customer who specifically asks for you.

The second you walk in, Keem, the other stylist, grabs your elbow and then leans into your side to whisper, "He's so cute."

Hearing it doesn't lift your mood at all, you just want to get it over with and go home.

"Where?" You ask as you put on your apron.

"He's right there," she whispers, pointing to the middle seat hidden behind the big mirror then detaches herself off you to go back behind the counter.

For a customer who chooses an awful time to get a haircut, you put on a phony smile and shove your hands into the pockets of your apron as you greet.

"Hi, what can I do for... You!" The infliction in your voice changes as you see who that customer is.

It's the shit-eating grin, the stupid dimples on his stupid face and

"It's enough torture to have you as my neighbor and now I have to you see at work too," you say as you cross your arms together in front of you.

"Oh, wow, is this how you treat your customer?" He says with a fake concerned look.

"Only the select few," you say with a sinister smile.

"I made it on your list of honors? Is this because we had sex—"

You hurriedly cover his mouth with your hand and make sure no one is seeing what you're doing to him, or worse, letting them acquire that piece of information.

"What do you want?" You scold him with a piercing glare.

He takes your hand off of his mouth and dramatically gasps for air, "I want a haircut," he simply answers.

With a huff, you swivel his chair to face the mirror and grab the cape for him, putting it around his neck, then clip it together. You put on a phony smile as you look at him through the reflection in the mirror.

"So, what do you want me to do with your hair besides setting it on fire?" You sarcastically ask him.

It's amazing how his grin doesn't wear off even just for a second, "We don't need to cut much, I guess just the tip," he says.

"Just the tip," you repeat, "Is that the title of your sex tape?"

Chan cracks a sonorous laugh, "That's a good one!"

Once you hear the sound of the scissors snipping away the hair, you get in the zone. You focus on giving his hair a nice shape that accentuates his strong jawline and makes his facial features more prominent.

"Don't talk much, huh?" He asks, slightly turning his head to the side.

You grab the nape of his neck and forcefully turn his head back to the front, "just here trying my best not to snip you somewhere else," you calmly mutter.

"Ooh, chills!" He responds with a shudder.

You switch your scissors with a hair clipper and it starts buzzing as you turn it on, you're holding it in his hand as you look at him and say, "You're going to regret coming here and allowing me to be this close to you with a sharp object."

Seeing you bringing the hair clipper close to his face, he reflexively closes his eyes so tightly and you hold the urge to not laugh at it.

"Oh, okay, I regret it now," he says like a frightened child left alone by his parents.

You gently place your hand on his jaw, "Stay still," you warn him.

He obeys you, keeping his head still and his eyes closed as you're carefully trimming his sideburns. You suddenly find yourself admiring his face and his beautiful features of a long, big nose and voluptuous lips.

For a split second, you so badly want to run your thumb on his lips and feel how soft they are. You did feel it once with your lips but you were too sad to notice and now you realize how much you regret it.

Before the temptation returns, you turn off the trimmer and put it away, then proceed to help brush the hair on his face and around his neck with a soft brush.

"You're all done," you announce, taking the cape from around his neck.

Chan stays on his seat as you brush the excess hair off the nape of his neck and make sure they don't stick to his skin. You put all of your equipment on the cart next to you and anticipate his reaction to your haircut.

Not trying to brag here but you did a good job here because he looks even more attractive with a fresh cut.

"Aren't you going to tell me how handsome I am and then kiss me on the cheek?" He asks while blinking his big eyes at you.

"I'm not your mom," you reply with a plain smile.

When you think you already got rid of him after giving him a haircut, you see him lounging around the counter and putting on his charms for Keem. You plan on keeping it a secret that you know each other but if he starts flirting with your co-worker, then there's a possibility you'll see her walking out of his apartment the next day and it only gets messy from there. You come up to him and tug at the sleeve of his jacket, then pull him to the side.

"Why are you still here?" You ask through your gritted teeth and keeping your volume low.

"I'm waiting for you."

"Why?"

"Because we're going out tonight," he answers.

"We?"

"And no, my panties are not in a twist," he says with a teeth-baring grin, "You can check it yourself if you want."

"Ugh. No!" You groan in refusal.

What is it about him anyway that makes the girls go crazy for him? If you're thinking with your depraved, brutal, and cavewoman brain, it must be the body that is inexplicably electric and sexually charged, braced with heavy muscles, and injected with a high dose of testosterone. In other words, he's hot, and it's hard not to be biologically attracted to him. But if you're thinking progressively and in the 21st century way, you know you should avoid this fuckboy at all costs.

"If you don't want to go then I'll just take Keem," he says, secretly threatening not only you but also your workplace dynamic.

"I'm sure she's keem for it," he makes a pun.

"Ugh. Okay," you groan in agreement this time.

And then, there's something called human error.

-

At first, Chan thought that you have that stoic expression only whenever you're around him but he was wrong. He learns that it's just your default expression and you wear it like a defense mechanism to keep the predators at bay. At least, he shouldn't worry about leaving you alone in the bar as he's working the DJ booth.

Once he's done with his set, he ignores the calls for his name and walks up to you, seeing you rather unimpressed by what he just did. What did he expect though? You're not most girls.

He taps the table, signaling the bartender to come and tend to his order, "The usual, please?"

The bartender nods and is about to turn away to make his drink when he calls for him again, "And one more for this nice lady," he adds, gesturing at you and flashing you a sly smile.

Chan turns around to face the dance floor and leans his back against the counter, "So, what do you think?"

"It was good," you answer after sipping your drink.

"You have a filthy expression on your face," he teases you and gently elbows your side, "go on, tell me what you're really thinking."

"Strangling you with my bare hands," you answer without a beat.

Chan leans in close enough that he can get a whiff of the smell of your shampoo, "so that's your kink?"

"Only when I see fear in your eyes," you answer with a wicked smile.

"Wow. You know how to excite a guy," he praises, not entirely lying about it because he gets a little excited from your snarky comments.

The bartender comes with both of your drinks and you hurriedly finish your previous one to go ahead with the next. He watches as you take a small sip and then waits to see how your nose scrunched at the bitter aftertaste.

"You're single now and maybe it's time for you to get out there, you know, find a new love," he says, secretly hoping that you'll find it in him when he looks at you.

"Hey, Chris," a girl comes and without hesitating, placing a kiss on his cheek, "Great set!"

"Thanks, Alicia," he says to the tall lady with beautiful braided hair.

"This one is on me," she says as she gives him a drink from the ones she ordered.

"Cheers then!" He says, clinking his glass with hers with his charming smile on.

The lady leaves to take the drinks away and is soon engulfed by the crowd. Chan notices that you remain calm about that interaction, and again, what did he expect?

"At least, one of us has no problems getting some tonight," you take a jab at him.

"I'm taking you out so we can have fun tonight and enjoy yourself—"

"The only way I can enjoy myself is when I'm alone."

"Oh?" He gasps and gives you a wild glare.

You roll your eyes and sigh once you realize he's taking it the wrong way, "I just want to go home and binge my favorite show and sleep," you finish your sentence with a big gulp of drink and he gets to see another nose scrunch from you.

The intention was to take you out of the apartment and perhaps, he can get you to loosen up a little bit, making this getting to know each other thing a little easier for him. It seems like he's forcing it on you and maybe it wasn't a good idea after all.

"Okay, then, we'll go home after this one," he says, lifting his glass close to his mouth.

"Or you can just stay here and do your thing, and I'm going home," you suggest a better idea after finishing your drink and you grab your bag as if you just can't wait to get out of here.

Chan is quick to grab your arm and stops you from leaving, "Hey, at least, let me finish my drink first," he protests.

"You don't have to leave with me. I can go home myself," you say to him.

"Just wait for me," he squeezes on your arm and adds, "Please?"

You consider it for a moment and then say, "I'll wait for you outside."

Since he's done a gig here, Chan has to make a proper exit out of the club, he greets a few people who work there and grabs his backpack of equipment, carrying it in his hand as he walks out of there. He finds you leaning against the street lamp and the light casts a glowing halo on your head, making you look like an angel... with a stoic expression.

He grins when you notice him coming, "Okay, I lied, there's another thing we have to do tonight," he says.

"Goodness, Chris, just bag a lady and call it a night," you groan in complaint.

Both of his eyebrows ratchet up at your words, "It has nothing to do with that."

"What is it then?" You cross your arms together in front of you.

"Only the best part of the night," he answers with a cryptic smile.

Chan knew he should have started the night with food. He can see that your mood gradually elevates with every bite you take from the delicious kebab he recommended to get after a boozy night out.

By the time you both arrive at the apartment building, you get all quiet like a drowsy child after a day out at the park and he finds it cute, especially with the way your lips slowly jutting out and you keep widening your eyes to stay awake.

"How about next Friday night we're doing it your way?" he suggests as he keeps the elevator door open for you with his back.

"If that means you'll leave me alone then yes," your eyes turn small as you politely moan into your hand.

"We're going to stay in and binge-watch your favorite show and sleep," he lists everything you mentioned earlier and an idea pops into his head.

"We'll have a pajama party!" He announces along with a poor imitation of tooting horns.

"No!" You flatly reject the idea.

"I'll bring the snacks," he offers.

You steadfastly shake your head.

"Then I'll keep knocking on your door until you let me in," he annoyingly moves into your side until he's rubbing elbows with yours.

"Then I hope you get abducted by aliens," you come out with an absurd wish and it cackles him.

"You would miss me," he confidently remarks with his signature grin.

"Doubtful. Very doubtful."

"Why?"

"I know I'd get to see you again someday—"

Chan can't help himself from smiling but little does he know, you're not done with your sentence yet.

"— in hell."

That wipes the smile off his face, "but I'm a good person. People like me," he says while making an innocent face.

"Because they don't know you, if they did, someone would have kicked your ass already."

"They'd try," Chan easily says with a nonchalant shrug, and at the same time, you both burst out laughing.

This is not flirting and he's aware there's something wrong with this interaction but you know what? He likes every bit of it.

Chan's heart sinks when it's time for the two of you to part ways and before you get to slip away from him, he tugs at the strap of your bag.

"Hey, can't wait for our pajama party," he says.

You pull your bag until the strap slips out of his hand and head to your apartment door.

"No response," he points out, "it's as a yes then."

"No!" You shout.

"So... it's a no?" He asks in confusion.

You push the door to get inside your apartment and lingers by the doorway, facing him.

"No," you cheekily respond and then close the door, leaving him with a different kind of thrill for what comes next.

-

From the way this person treats your door like a tambourine, you can safely guess that it's Chan knocking on the door for the so-called pajama party.

Ugh, why did you agree to it in the first place? It's so unlike you to let someone in on your space but it doesn't matter whether you let him or not, the boundaries have been crossed so many times that there's no such thing as personal space anymore.

Before letting him in, you check through the peephole, and just as you expected, he comes undressed, literally. He's standing on the other side of the door wearing nothing but gray sweatpants hanging low around his hips.

"Please have mercy on my eyes and put some clothes on!" You shout through the door with your hand holding the knob.

"I don't wear pajamas. This is what I wear to sleep," he responds and you can hear him faintly laughing with your ear pressed on the door.

"And what makes you think you're going to sleep at my place tonight?"

"I don't know. A hunch," he playfully responds.

"Pajama party is officially canceled!" You say through the peephole.

"Okay, okay, I'll put some clothes on," he sighs in defeat.

You watch through the peephole to see if he's really going to his apartment to change. With his broad shoulders, all hunched up, he walks back to his apartment and doesn't even bother to close the door, he grabs whatever lying close to him and puts the dark t-shirt over his head. Even under the poor lighting, the ridges of his muscles are visible and inviting you to feel it with your touch.

As though he knows he's being watched, he looks your way and then trudges his way back to your door. The first thing you see after you open the door for him is his big grin that sends his dimples sinking deep into his cheeks.

With a glare at his empty hands, you ask, "And where's the snack?"

Chan puts his arms on each side of the doorframe and leans in close, towering you with his big figure, proudly he answers, "Ma'am, I am the snack."

Can't tell if he's trying to charm you, intimidate you, or both, doesn't matter because he failed at all of them.

"But you promised!" You can tolerate people when they make jokes about anything but you can't accept when it involves food.

Chan takes his phone out of his pocket and shows it to you, "It's being delivered. See?"

Your jaws unclenched in a second and you open the door wider for him, "You may come in!" You sweetly say with a curtsy.

"Thank you, Your Majesty!" He says with a bow before steps into your apartment.

It's ironic how you prepared everything despite you were grudging it, you set the sofa, put some cushions and since he said he was bringing the food, you bought drinks for tonight.

"I have juice, soda, and beers," you list everything you have in your fridge as you're looking at it.

"We'll have the soda for now and beers for later," Chan strategically plans.

The food he ordered only lasts for two episodes and from there, you both run on beers and chips while sitting on opposite sides of each other on the couch with your feet touching.

"I like seeing white stockings on women," Chan comments after seeing the female character wearing it under her dress.

"This is why I hate watching with a man," you say in a condescending tone.

"I'm not even saying anything about her body," he defends himself and playfully rubs his foot with yours.

"Just shh..." you hush him, getting back at him by tackling his foot with yours.

The whole time the TV show is playing, your attention is on him, you're merely curious if he's genuinely invested in it or just wants to annoy you with his presence. From your observation, it seems like it's the former but the jury's still out.

"Wait, is that it?" He asks as the first season has just ended and the credit title rolls down the screen.

"That's the end of the first season," you say, starting to gather the trash on the table and put it into a plastic bag.

"But there's another season, right?" He says, looking distressed that the show ends with a cliffhanger.

"Yeah," you answer.

"Then let's watch it!" He says with a grin and slowly blinking his eyes at you.

"No, Chris, it's late," you show him the time on the screen on your phone that it's close to midnight.

"But I want to know what happens next and I need to know now," he speaks like a spoiled little brat.

You get up from the sofa to get rid of the trash, "You can watch it on your own."

Grabbing the back of your sweater, Chan pulls you hard until you plop down onto the sofa next to you then he puts his arm around you to keep you down.

"Let's just party all night, eh?" He persuades you as he leans in close to the side of your head you can feel his warm breath fanning your cheek.

You leer to the side at him and ask, "I can't make you leave, do I?"

"Not a chance," he shortly answers.

Seeing that there's no other way to make him leave but to fulfill his wish, you give in and sit back down on the sofa as Chan hits the play button.

With your stomach full and the exhaustion from the day, and you feel snug on the sofa wrapped in your blanket, you're getting drowsy as the night gets late. You manage to stay awake for two episodes but not long after that, your eyes get really heavy and you can barely keep them open anymore.

Going to rest my eyes for a bit, you tell yourself in your head but close your eyes, slowly drifting into deep slumber.

-

It's not new that Chan wakes up not knowing where he is, he lifts his head and looks around, taking in his surroundings to give him clues of his whereabouts. One look at the TV screen that shows a question whether he's still watching or not, he immediately recalls where he is, what he's doing here, and—

"Owh!" He lowly gasps as you accidentally elbow him on the ribs.

There he is, lying next to you on the sofa, your back pressed close to his chest he can feel every rise and fall of your body as you're breathing. He doesn't know how it comes to this and he's not complaining though, if anything, it's an opportunity for him to admire you up close.

Cautiously, he removes the hair covering your face to the side and takes an intimate look at your facial features, first at your eyes with your eyelashes fanning out so beautifully, he runs his fingertip down your nose and eventually at your lips which he dreams of kissing.

Do you know that you're so beautiful yet so unaware of it?

Chan gently buries his nose in your neck and inhales your heavenly scent that gets him intoxicated, putting himself in a test of restraint that he'll be likely to fail. All of a sudden, you stir in your sleep and nuzzle closer as if you're seeking warmth from his body heat.

What did he just put himself into? He frustratingly asks in his head.

Soon enough, he can feel your body start to mold against him and it feels nice, you're fulfilling his need for this closeness but unfortunately, he can't control how his body is reacting to this as it wants to do more than just being pressed close to yours.

Chan carefully places his hand on your hips and quietly, he tries to push you away to make a safe space between your bodies even though he has to suffer the loss of your warmth against him.

As if your body knows what he's trying to do, you push back even further and the curve of your ass sits right on the bulge growing inside his sweatpants, putting him at a greater risk.

"Fuck!" he mouthes in distress.

If it wasn't for the TV light that casts a hazy glow on you, he wouldn't notice that your eyes are open and you're waking up to him with his hand on your hips which he's afraid only giving you the impression that he tries to pull you close instead of the opposite.

"I—" he can't say anything without sounding like he's lying because he knows that a greater part of him wanted it, wanting you.

In the next moment, he finds your hand reaching for him and unexpectedly, you put your fingers across his lips, asking him to stop talking as you bring his head close until your lips touch. He doesn't dare to do anything but when you stroke his lower lip with your tongue, his instincts take over.

To no one's surprise, Chan claims your mouth like a starved man.

However, Chan doesn't plunge right into it, he's starting the kiss with innocent brushes of his lips on yours and teasing licks before taking your mouth once again in a deeper kiss.

When he draws back, your lips are parted on soundless gasps of desire. It takes a moment for your eyes to clear enough to focus on him and with a low voice, he says, "I couldn't resist it."

He can't waste a second without kissing you so he indulges in another dizzying kiss, "I thought about kissing you all week."

Days, weeks, months, it comes to a blur to him but he learned the agony of waiting so he counts the time until his lips can reunite with yours again, hopefully, once and for all.

"Now, I can't seem to stop," As he speaks, he threads his fingers into your hair and angles your head back. He trails kisses along your jawline, nips your chin, and kisses the corner of your mouth.

A murmur humming in your throat as he kisses you yet again and your hand flies into his hair, fingertips lazily scratching at his scalp. You suddenly pull away from the kiss and gaze into his dark eyes, "Then don't stop."

So Chan hasn't been the only one, after all.

Planting his mouth on yours again, he twines his tongue with yours, and oh... this taste, this softness, your hand in his hair, kiss after kiss after kiss.

He allows himself to run his fingertips down the length of your arm and smiles when goosebumps ripple outward. Nuzzling your neck, he breathes in the soft scent of your skin and kisses the sweet spot just behind your jaw. Your lips are calling him, but instead, he sucks on your earlobe and bites it, startling a shaky sigh from you.

He allows himself to explore more by running his hand along the length of your body, cupping the curve of your breasts, and even through the layers of fabrics, he can feel the firm buds of your nipple. He so badly wants to pinch it, love on it, but there is too much fabric in the way. He simply resolves it by slipping his hand under and he finds your soft mounds in a second, not wasting another second to fondle on it.

As he kisses you harder, and you arch into his body, you're undulating your hips against the aching bulge inside its confine, forcing him to bite back his groan.

Oh, he hasn’t wanted someone like this in... Has he ever wanted someone like this?

He reels himself back to the present, glancing down at his pale hand and your nipple caught between his fingers, it's an erotic sight indeed that he can't resist pinching it and enjoying your sharp intake of breath.

"Chris..."

The sound of his name falling from your lips is just as unexpected as it is hot. He sees you breathe through your parted lips that's swollen and glistening wet from all the kissing, and then at your wide, lustful eyes that tell him you're ready for more.

An impatient hand glides down your stomach and slips beneath the waistband of your shorts, his gentle fingers caress you with slow strokes. He is touching you there, right where you need him and you shiver, then burrow closer to him as more goosebumps dotted your skin.

"My God, you're drenched," he says and with each syllable, his lips grazed your ear.

Your body clenched hard, clenched even harder when he presses a finger deep into you, filling you. He massages your clit with lazy swirls of his thumb, making you start trembling against him.

He lowers a kiss on you again, tongue and teeth invading your mouth and that's all it takes to send you climbing quick and sharp toward your release.

His mouth finds your ear and with his hot breath tickles you, he lowly asks, "Does it feel good?”

There's no answer but you sink your teeth into your bottom lip as you throw your head back, inhaling sharply. Chan can feel tiny muscles fluttering around his fingers, and he knows you are close.

He doesn't need to see to know the answer, he can feel it with his hand, "You’re drenching my palm," he whispers again.

With your hand in his hair, you bring his head close and peck his lips, "Chris, I want it," you mutter as you pull away.

"It?" He asks to confirm if you're thinking of the same thing and he's not taking the wrong sign.

You lightly nod, "Mmh-hmm."

"Condom?"

"No need," you shortly answer, "I'm on the pill."

A jolt of excitement surges all over his body just from the thought that he'll be inside you with no layer of protection and it utterly exhilarates him that he needs to calm down for a minute. He uses the time to remove your shorts and then his sweatpants next without taking his other arm from around you.

Once he settles himself behind you, he puts his hand between your legs, lifting a leg and putting it over his hips, allowing his hard member to get between your legs. It feels a whole lot different to feel how wet you are on every inch of his length.

"Feel that?" He asks you with his mouth nestled close to your ear and his swollen cock rubbing between your folds, "I'm aching for you."

Chan kisses your mouth, your jaw, your neck as hard flesh prodding at your sex, making you stop breathing for a moment and you feel nothing but a sensuous stretching that goes on and on until he seated himself fully inside you and oh, he fits perfectly.

"It's too good. You feel– oh... I'm going to lose it," he can't comprehend what he's feeling right now.

The heat, this tightness, so perfect for him and his body asks for nothing but more and more and more of you.

Responding to his body's needs, he withdraws and then thrusts back into you, soon enough, he sets a steady pace. His free hand slides down to your bundle of nerves, touching you there for added stimulation. You grip his wrist, seemingly intending to pull him away, but your hand refuses to cooperate.

The twin assaults of his fingers and his cock that fills you full kindle a flame inside you that spread all over you like wildfire. Your mouth is parted open but all that comes out are gasps and sighs of pleasure so instead of words, you communicate how you feel through your body. You spread your thighs wider and writhe to match his thrust for thrust.

There's nothing but the sounds of his hips slapping your ass and his cock that incessantly slipping in and out of you, and he likes how he finds peace despite his body being in pure chaos.

With his mouth lingering close to your ear, he knows you hear every shudder of his breath to the lowest of his sultry moans slipped out of his mouth, and honestly, he would have been embarrassed if it weren’t for your hand tangled in his curls and keep pulling him for a kiss, before finding his hand that rests on your chest and hold it.

"Perfect..." the word tumbles out of his mouth as your fingers slip right between the spaces of his fingers and lace it together.

"Ah, ah, ah," more moans fall out of your lips as you arch into him, and through it all, your eyes locked in a gaze with his, letting him see the pure pleasure that builds up inside you.

Chan has slept with a handful of people, but he’s never been so in tune with someone's body. He’s never been so desperate to please or so elated when he hears you cry his name as you cum around him.

The high takes you over and also your ability to move, speak, and think. You curl up, making you feel smaller against him. The hand interlaced with his tightens as he speeds up the motions of his hips and with one last deep thrust, he joins you in falling apart.

Using this tender moment to pour his affection for you, he's whispering your name and kissing you softly, then slowly, he eases out of—

"No, don't!" Your hand grabs at his hips, hard, nails digging into the flesh, "Stay."

Obeying your words, Chan holds you close, limbs to limb, skin to skin, hearts lying so close to each other with mere flesh and bones in between. He doesn't know what this was, but it sure as hell was not fucking. He kisses you hard and soft to find out.

It's when he pulls away and looks into your eyes that he figures out the answer as the most incredible feeling of being loved washes over him.

-

When Chan wakes up the next morning. He registers the sunlight on his face, the distant barking of a neighborhood dog, and the delicious smell of buttered toast and coffee, it's all around him and—

It just hits him that he's waking up on your sofa and he burrows into the blanket with a happy sigh once he recalls everything that happened last night to the tiniest details, summoning the butterflies to flutter around in his stomach.

The sound of your footsteps forces him to get out of his daze and he scrambles to get up when you walk past the sofa on your way to the kitchen.

"Morning!" He cheerily greets you while covering his naked lower half with the blanket.

Without looking and with your hands tying your hair, you fainty reply to his greeting, "Morning."

You didn't reply to his level of enthusiasm but that's okay, he just doesn't expect you to be this stoic this early in the day. Instead of searching for his sweatpants, he wraps the blanket around his hips like a towel and waddles his way to the kitchen.

"You're up early," he says, noticing that it's barely seven and he knows you usually leave for work a little after eight, sometimes close to nine.

"Early appointment. Have to do a client's hair. Wedding," you concisely explain as you quietly sip your coffee from a big red mug.

It's strange, the way you speak and how your eyes are looking anywhere but in his direction. For now, he's going to think that you're just tired and not fully meeting your dose of caffeine yet

"Okay, so what's for breakfast?" He asks, excitedly tapping the dining table with his hands and grinning at you.

"Toast and coffee," you say while standing on your toes to get a glass from the top cabinet.

"Anything but coffee, please?" He politely asks, watching you walk the other way to get a carton of orange juice out of the fridge.

It's a sunny day but the room shares the same temperature as the glass of orange juice you pour into his glass. He observantly watches you, searching for any clues whether this is how you are in the morning or something is actually off with you.

There's one way to know, first, he takes a small sip of his juice to help with his dry throat and then jabs around the topic, "Last night was fun, don't you think?"

There's no answer and he can't see your reaction toward it when you're standing with your back facing him and he begins to think that it's the latter.

"I'm thinking we should do this again next Friday but I'll get to pick what we're going to watch and you bring—"

"Chris, I'm sorry but..." You swiftly turn on your feet and check the time on the clock, "I have to leave now."

"Sure, yeah, you can't be late for a wedding," he playfully says while keeps searching for your eyes to make you look at him.

You walk around your apartment to gather your things, your phone, and your wallet, stuffing them into a purse. You grab another bag which he guesses is one you usually carry for work and that only confirms that you're indeed leaving for an appointment.

"You can stay for breakfast and use the spare keys to lock the door when you leave," you say those things in a hurry as you drag your bag to the foyer.

He turns on his chair to look at you as he jokes, "We've only slept together twice and you're already giving me your apartment keys?"

Unfortunately, the jokes fall short as he hears nothing but the sound of the knob turning and you're getting out of the apartment.

"Have a great day at work!" He shouts at you but all he gets in response is the door closing and then clicks in place.

Chan can't tell anymore if you're leaving for work or you're leaving him, but it feels like he's getting his karma for always being the one leaving in the morning.

-

It's wedding season and that explains why there are a lot of scribbles on your calendar, you have a lot of appointments to do this month, and you get so busy that he's hardly seeing you lately.

Work is one thing he can understand but you can't possibly work 24 hours a day without a day off, right? At one point, he should have caught you leaving or coming home from work, whichever it is, the chance never comes to him, not even once.

Chan begins to wonder if you're avoiding him, he knows because there's a slight difference to it and it's in the purpose. You've been purposely doing things to avoid him.

With an excuse prepared in his head, Chan comes knocking on your door the next Friday night. He's been keeping your spare keys and can easily let himself in but that would be impolite, he needs to be on your good side to earn your trust.

After a few times knocking with no answer, he lets himself in but not because he has the spare keys, the door is unlocked so he figures you must be at home and doing something that makes you unable to get the door.

"Anyone's home?" He shouts into the void in your living room and hesitantly walks further inside.

Hearing the loud humming of a hairdryer, he walks to your bedroom. Unexpectedly, you're coming out as he's about to walk in.

"Oh, God!" You gasp in surprise as you hold the front of your bathrobe together, "What are you doing here?"

In contrast, Chan laughs seeing your shell-shocked expression in his presence. He then crosses his arms together and leans the side of his body against the doorframe, not forgetting to wear his grin as he answers to you, "Just checking to see if my neighbor is alive."

"Well, I'm alive," You're talking as you're taking dresses out of your closet, "and I need your help."

Looking at your mood and the way you talk normally to him, he concludes that the thought that you've been purposely avoiding him was just a silly thought after all. Other than that, you need his help and he likes being needed by you.

"I'm at your service," Chan says, permitting himself to step into your bedroom and sit on the end of your bed.

You're standing in front of him, holding up two dresses in your hands, one is a white line dress with a v-neck and the other is a body-hugging velvet dress in a deep burgundy color. Both will look good on you but he needs to know one thing before he gives his vote.

"Are we going out tonight?" He playfully asks, feeling a buzz of excitement filling him.

You turn around to face the full-length mirror while holding the dress in front of you in turn to give you ideas on how it will look on you.

"I have a date," you tell him.

Hearing that, the excitement in his body vanishes in a second and is replaced by a cold shudder of panic. He tries to laugh it off in denial.

"A–a date?" He stammers.

"Uh-huh," You end up settling the dress situation yourself by choosing to go with the white linen dress, "Can you get out of my room so I can change?"

His subconscious has the tendency to obey you, he gets up from the bed and walks out of your room, and he lingers there by the door, contemplating whether he should push the conversation or not.

"With who?" He doesn't want to know but curiosity gets the best of him.

"A guy I met at one of the weddings," you share from inside your bedroom.

"Is this—" he pauses to swallow air, "Is this your first date?"

"Yes and I'm excited," your voice grows louder and soon, the door cracks open and you reveal yourself to him, "Now, tell me I made the right choice?"

He takes a staggering step backward and asks, "On the date or the dress?"

You take a look at yourself on the round mirror hanging on the wall, "Is it too casual? No?"

For a second, Chan forgets about the direness of the situation and takes a good look at you, the dress compliments your shape so well, the hem flares up like a blooming flower and the v-cut neckline offers a modest cleavage, perfect for a first date. If he has to be honest, even without the dress, it won't make you less comely but he hates that you look this good and it's not for him.

"You look... good," he tries to make it sound like your appearance doesn't make any impression on him.

You wipe the excess lipstick on the corner of your mouth then look over your shoulder, "And the date?"

He doesn't expect you to give him the chance to say something about it and obviously, he's going to try his best to intercept your plan.

"Don't you think it's too soon?" He follows you as you head back to your bedroom then stops at the doorway as you enter the bathroom after, "To get on a date."

You take off the hair rollers nestling on the crown of your hair and your hair flows down like big springs, then brush it down with your fingers.

"You told me yourself that I should get out there and find new love," you return his words to him.

That feels like he's just slapped himself in the face. Why did he tell you that? Oh, yeah, that's because he wants you to start opening up so he can let himself in and fill that position.

"But that's not– I just didn't think..." his words trailing off as he can't exactly explain the reason why he said it, not now at least.

You put all of your hair to the front then flip it all together to the back, you're shaking the end with your fingers, sending the sweet smell of your shampoo flying around in the room.

"Didn't think what?" You curiously ask as you apply a fresh coat of lipstick on your lips, the shade is bright red like a flamethrower.

"When I said you should start finding a new love, I was hoping that you could finally see me and..." he can't find another way of telling you without saying it out loud, "perhaps, you can find it in me."

That makes you stop whatever you're doing and turn around on your feet, leaning against the bathroom counter, you look at him in eerie silence, and then out of nowhere, a laugh bursts out of you.

"Chris, stop playing!" You brush past him on the way out of the bathroom.

He's trailing behind you as you pick up a purse from a collection of them in your closet, "I'm not playing," he assures you.

"Okay, yeah, I trust you," you half-heartedly respond, heading out and going to the foyer to pick your shoes next.

"Can you please look at me?" He pleads as he waits for you to make up your mind with your choice of shoes.

"Just look at me, please?" He begs again, desperately.

You take your chosen shoes and hold them in one hand as you hold his gaze, "Okay, I'm looking at you."

In those fierce eyes, Chan finds the courage to assess his feelings and tries to fathom them into words. He inhales air before letting it out in a long, low sigh.

"Don't go on that date," he demands.

"Why?"

"Because I want you here."

"Chris, that's not a good enough reason," you say with a low laugh.

He gently places his hands on each of your elbows and tenderly stares into your eyes, "Then go ahead, ask me that one question."

"What question?"

"Ask me what are we," he steadily holds your gaze even though he feels a whirlwind in his head and chaos stirring inside his chest.

You brush it off with a laugh, "Why should I ask you—"

"Just ask me the question!" He accidentally raises his voice at you and immediately lowers his voice after, he looks down to take a breather before looking back into your eyes, "Ask me what are we!"

It feels like an eternity waiting for you to ask him that but he has the patience and an answer to that, he only needs you to ask him that.

You drop the shoes onto the floor and take a step forward, you hold his gaze as he holds his breath. Deep down, he knows that you'd have to be blind to not see the light of affection in his eyes.

To his dismay, you unexpectedly retreat and pick up everything with you toward the door. With your back turned to him, you say, "I don't want to be late for the date."

-

It's been an hour since he came back from your apartment and he's still stuck in the denial stage. He's lying in the dark and stares at the ceiling of his bedroom, ignoring his phone that's been tirelessly blaring with notifications.

It's not a rejection if you don't give him a definite, abundantly clear answer, right? Besides, there's a chance that the guy blew the date and you can see that he's the better man. Is he though? Is he any better?

There are two ways to handle this situation. One, he can try to forget all about it, hit call back on one of the girls contacting him right now, get out of here, and distract himself with a physical release. Or two, wait because there's something in him that tells him to wait just a little longer.

But wait for what? Wait until you return from your date? Wait until he sees it happens, you with your new beau, all lovey-dovey next door?

It seems like he's finally progressed into the next stage: anger.

Every thought that crosses his head right now is not nice and he needs an outlet for this anger. He shoots up from the bed, he starts pacing back and forth in the room, hands balled into fists, he gets this urge to punch something, he wants to— No, he can't wait with this ugly feeling slowly taking over him and driving him insane.

"Fuck this," he curses out loud into the void in his apartment, he picks up his phone and texts someone about meeting up tonight.

While typing a text, knocking comes on his door, and whoever it is, they'd better not piss him off or— the knocking comes again, he exhales air out of his mouth to calm down and walks in heavy steps to get the door.

It seems as if his anger wasn't there in the first place, the second he opens the door and sees you, all of those nasty thoughts vanish into thin air.

You're carrying your shoes in one hand and the other is holding one side of the doorframe. You look at him with a smile ever so softly blooms on your face, "So..."

See? It wasn't a rejection. He just needed to wait a little longer and God, he was glad he did.

"So...?" He asks back, holding the urge to smile back at you.

You daringly stare into his eyes as you take a step into his apartment, "So... what are we, Chris?"

It's crazy how your magnetic field is so strong that he can't stand being this close to you and not touching you, his hesitant hands are reaching for you, they retreat and give, doing it for a while until you drop everything off your hands and put your hands around his shoulders. Indirectly permitted him to put his hands on you.

"What are we, mmh?" You ask again with your eyes flickering like they hold stars in them.

"We are..." he considers to let the truth out but what's the fun in that? He needs to get back at you for making him doubt everything earlier, "Neighbors."

"No," you shake your head in disagreement, "You're definitely going to say something else."

Luckily, he's strong enough to hold you steady as you put your whole weight against him, leaving not even an inch of gap between your bodies.

"Someone still has her panties in a twist," he playfully responds with his charming grin on, dimples and all.

"Shame on you because I don't have any panties on," you say with your small smile turning into a broad one.

His eyes widen in slight shock, and his hand automatically glides downward, landing a caress on the curve of your ass and slipping under the hem of your dress to check whether your words are true or not. His fingers edge at the lacy fabric of your underwear and it turns out to be the latter.

"Ugh, you're lying!" He groans in complaint but it doesn't make him less happy, he's elated, and his heart is about to burst.

"Partly."

"How so?"

"Because you're about to take them off," you shamelessly say.

Chan wants to let go of all the things that hold him back. He brings both of your lips together, he kisses you like you're oxygen and he's short on air. He runs his hands down your back to your hips, cupping your sweet ass, and pulls you even closer. You struggle to get closer as he kisses you deep and hard your head tilted to the back, you weave your fingers through his hair as you pour yourself into the kiss.

Everything that happened before this is in the past now, all he knows now is your taste and the hot sighs of your breath, and then this irrepressible want to devour you.

"I'm going to carry you to bed," Chan's plush lips brushing yours as he speaks.

The idea of carrying you to bed is highly appealing to him at the moment. He likes holding you and as messed up as it was, he wants to throw you onto the bed, in the most respectful way.

"Then what are you waiting for, kangaroo boy?"

A sharp gasp escapes your mouth as he swoops you into his arms and carries you in the direction of the bedroom. You have your arms looped around his neck to hold onto and place kisses along his jaw all the way to his bedroom.

Instead of throwing you onto the bed like he planned, he throws both of you onto the bed and it quakes, he immediately props an elbow against the mattress to not put his weights on you.

"God, you're so beautiful," his sigh tells how overwhelmed he is by what he's seeing and what a privilege that he's able to place kisses on such beauty.

When you try to gasp a mouthful of air, he breathes it into you with his hand resting on your jaw, you look up at him, and a starburst of emotion expands inside him. He thinks you see it in his eyes because you softly smile at him.

Giving you time to breathe, he shifts his focus elsewhere, he kisses and sucks on your neck, all the while his hands are keeping your body closely pressed against him, making you aware of the firm flesh prodding your crotch through his blue jeans.

The next thing is his mouth searching for the source of the heat and your body goes into total system failure as his mouth inches closer to where you want him. Between your thighs, you flush and tingle with wanting.

"This smell..." he hums as he buries his nose in your clothed sex, making you able to feel every sharp intake of air he inhales through his nose.

He pries his mouth open and plants it on your heating wetness, not caring about the lacy fabric that blocks him from tasting it raw.

"Mmh..." he deeply hums again, almost like the low roar of a wild animal hunting at night, "I want this smell all over me."

The intensity of your desire frightens and embarrasses you at the same time, you need a little control but control is gone when Chan tugs the waistband of your underwear between his teeth and begins to pull it down your legs.

He places his hands on the back of your thighs and slowly, lifts both of your legs upward as he keeps biting your underwear. You're watching as he tries to take it off of you with such determination.

Once he succeeds, he grabs the underwear from between his teeth and holds it up to show you his latest conquest, "Twisted panties no more," he says with a sly grin.

Instead of tossing it aside, he puts the underwear into the back pocket of his jeans, "I'm keeping it."

There are so many layers of clothing keeping him from feeling your skin but he can start by removing his t-shirt, having no problems showing you his taut muscles and his pale skin that reddens around the chest, neck, and both ears.

Next, Chan grabs your knees, he pulls them apart to bare your sex to his eyes and his chest expands on a sharp inhalation. The look on his face tells it all, he wants you, he wants you so bad that he swallows air, sending his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat.

It's the first time that he gets to see it open and bare, gushing with essence, tantalizing. He leisurely takes his time to admire it while plotting things he wants to do to it.

He rubs his hands down the sides of your thighs and lowly sighs, without his eyes straying away from the sight between your legs, he says, "You have the prettiest little—”

He thinks he's imagining it but he's not the only one hearing knocks on his apartment door. Sensing someone else's presence, your legs instinctively shut and you pull the hem of your dress down.

"Chris, are you expecting someone?" You ask with your forehead wrinkled in question.

"No," he shortly answers, he doesn't want you to think that he's waiting for someone else other than you, "I don't—"

The knocking comes again a while later, a little too aggressive that both of you can't ignore it anymore.

"Someone is knocking on your door," you say.

"Yeah, but I swear, I don't—"

You place your hand on his waist and look at him, "well, then, get the door and find out."

He'd rather have someone sawing him off of you than having to voluntarily get away from you, whoever this person is will be responsible for what's not going down at this moment.

"Only if you promise you won't change your mind," he tells you with a sly smirk.

"If you don't hurry and get the door, I might," you say back.

"Stay still. Don't move. Not even an inch," he pecks your lips for every warning with both hands cupping your face. He plants another long peck on your lips before dashing toward the front door and thinking of just sending this person away so he can get back to you.

This is where he makes a mistake. He doesn't check through the peephole and opens the door right away, having the faintest idea that catastrophe awaits on the other side of the door.

"Ah, there you are!" The girl says, jumping at him and immediately locking lips with him.

It happens so fast that by the time Chan registers it, the girl pulls away but keeps her arms looped around his shoulders.

"I came here as soon as I received your text," she grabs his chin and kisses his slacked-open mouth, "I hope I didn't make you wait long."

On the other end of the room, he hears your footsteps coming and soon, you come into his sight. You look so calm and he'd prefer a raging sea because with calm water, he never really knows what he's dealing with.

With an enigmatic smile, you look at him and say, "You know what, Chris? I change my mind."

-

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[celuere]

NSFW Hcs for my fav genshin women <3

Including: Arlecchino, Clorinde, Navia, Mavuika x fem!reader

cw: strap-on/cock (not really specified, interpret it however you want), hair pulling, degrading, semi-public, breeding, cunnilingus, bondage, consensual somnophilia, not proofread

I always wanted to make one of these multi posts and I realized „hey alba you never once posted your sesbian lex hcs about your wives“ so here I am.

Starting off with FATHER herself. I could actually write a book about her bed habits.

95% of the time on the giving end. She doesn’t enjoy being on the bottom end that much. It‘s not like that she HATES it but she just loves the way your pretty pussy swallows her cock up without much troubles.

She had a hard day? Expect her to bend you over that desk of hers, sheets of papers and other objects alike getting shoved off (or proceed to fall down) while she fucks her frustration straight into you. And goodness you take it like such a good girl, every bad day for her is a wonderful day for you.

Bondage. Oh. My. God. This woman and bondage. Have you seen her bloodfire strings? THE THINGSSSS she could and WILL do with those are unlimited. Either to keep you propped up in the middle of your bedroom while toes are barely touching the floor as she runs her razor sharp nails over your delicate skin OR to just manhandle you into whatever position she pleases. She is nasty like that.

HER BOSSFORM THO. I COULD. TALK. ABOUT. HER. BOSSFORM. FOR ETERNITY. she is just BIGGER after transforming. Everything is. Including that dick. You literally had to beg her for ages to fuck you in her completed form but when it came down to it? She couldn’t even fit the first half inside when she decided to break it off because no way in hell she‘ll ever hurt you like this. So thigh-fucking it was. Afterwards it was your tits.

Doesnt have a high sex drive at all but when it comes to you… she‘d never leave your warm cunt ever again if the world bent to her own will.

Not often but when she feels like it will degrade the living hell out of you.

Actually takes her wedding ring off every time she is about to fingerfuck you. Wouldn’t want that pretty thing to get dirty;, right?

In my first point I talked about how tops most of the time but about the times she bottoms? My, she is such a sensitive girl the bare touch of your fingers on her pussy/tip has her squirming around, trying to control the blush creeping up her face. She is quite flustered whenever you take the lead, she has a reputation after all. What would her subordinates think of her when they found out that the Knave enjoys being spread open over the kitchen counter on a random Tuesday night? She just wanted a glass water (lie). Of course she didn’t just let you push her down (lie). What, NOOOOO she didn’t burn the wooden counter on accident during her orgasm (lie).

Actually can’t take that much into her cunt due to how rare this occasion actually is. It‘s so cute watching one of Snezhnaya‘s most feared diplomat struggle on her wife’s dildo. A cutie, isn’t she?

Breeding. Oh how much she loves seeing her cum ooze out of your spent pussy after leaving your warmth. How much she wishes for you to carry out her children.

Clorinde on the other hand…

A pillow princess through and through. It‘s so easy to make her obey, to make her flustered. The bare sight of you buckling up the strap has her blushing and her pussy throbbing

Oh how often you mercilessly feasted on her cunt in her office. In broad daylight. With unlocked doors. You stopped counting.

Not a brat AT ALL. Like she is just a needy doll for you, anything you ask of her, she does. Why should she play hard to get if her pussy is screaming to get filled up already?

Is actual amazing at dominating but if she wouldn’t get so easily flustered by your remarks…

LOVES scissoring, always grabbing after your hand first and intertwining your fingers as you both grind against each other like a bunch of animals in heat. It is just so intimate and soft - just how she likes it.

Being the champion duelist can sometimes be so hard… if she only had a gf at home waiting to fuck this day out of her brain until all that’s left on her mind is your cock filling her up over and over

Do NOT try anything public with her. She is so bad at hiding it, it’s pathetic. The first and last time you tried it you almost got caught because she accidentally let one of the loudest moans ever slip. Geez, control yourself a little.

Yes. You did got caught by none other than Wrio once. Where? In his own office. You just got SO tired of waiting for the duke so your hand just slipped out… underneath her skirt… and then she slipped out… right on his desk… he never invited you both over again. Only separately.

Perfect punishment for her? Push her head between your legs. Make her clean up the mess she caused. Of course while sitting on a dildo, naturally

Has a thing for clothed sex, both parties still being almost fully clothed… it gets her going way better than being completely naked so just grind yourself against her whenever you have a spare minute

Otherwise is really a vanilla. Not really into degrading, spanking, bondage etc. just praise her lots, tell her how good she is for taking your cock and you have her moaning all over the house.

But Navia is the complete opposite of her.

That woman’s hand would find a way into your panties in the most crowded places ever. May it be an Aquabus, a café or Opera Epiclese - expect her to fingerfuck you.

Such a cheeky girl, sneaking that strap underneath her skirt so you can cockwarm her in her office of the Spina while she files out paperwork. Only rewarding you after she is done with her mountains of work by bending you over and giving that pussy a good pounding.

Tons of begging for her. You want your pussy eaten? Beg for it? You want her to kiss you? Beg for it? You want her to stretch you out on her fat cock? Beg for it. Nothing brings her more joy than watching you plead for her.

It’s not a rare occasion for her to wake you up with her fingers slipping into you, slowly and gently pumping in and out of you as she whispers sweet nothings into your ear. Watching your squirm underneath her touch until you eventually realize what’s going on and beg her to go faster

But no she won’t degrade you. She is a huge praise, always cooing right into you ear how good your doing, kissing your ear and calling every French name under the song. My god she loves you so much it’s sickening

But every independent woman needs to lay back every once in a while, no? Eyes watery from how overstimulated her swollen clit actually is when you pull your lips away from it, only to move back down to stick your tongue back into her leaking hole. Your hair a mess from how desperately she is tugging on it, someone HELP her

A HUGE fan of watching your strap disappear inside of her. Better. In front of a mirror. In full nelson.

Tries to act like you didn’t make her see starts the night before but fails. Miserably. Just let her stay in bed.

Talks about breeding get this woman GOING. like yes. Tell her you’re gonna fill her up. Tell her you’re gonna get her pregnant. Doesn’t matter if it happens or not, the sheer thought of getting pregnant by her gf or vice versa… she is GONE.

Never once is careful with your undies. You always end up with at least one ripped pair every week. She is just too impatient. Why do you even wear clothes in the first place?

And lastly… Mavuika.

She has you melt over her strap, making you ride her lap like a good girl, sobbing and whimpering as the tip rubs your insides to mush. Your slickness already evident on her abdomen but she is nowhere near done with you.

One night a certain rumor started about ghosts haunting the stadium late at night. But it was just you getting the living daylights eaten out of you by your wife on her throne. How that happened? No idea. Your panties just disappeared on their own.

Shameless initiater. Entering her office just to drop off paperwork? She‘ll tell you to get rid of those panties and tell you to bend over as she is already grabbing the strap on from her cupboard.

Once you came back injured from the pilgrimage and normally, Mavuika had no plans on stressing you out further in the bedroom until the need got too unbearable for you. So she made the best out of the situation. Carefully placing your legs over her shoulders an burying her face between your legs. She was gentle, slow. But nonetheles leaving you breathless. She is at your back and call after all.

You forgot to count the times she ate you out against a random tree while you initially wanted to go for a walk to clear your heads. Hand closed over your mouth. Mavuikas tongue lapping up and down over your clit. It happened way too often

But when you had an argument? Oh that sex is gonna be good. Pinning you down on whatever surface is the nearest, cock dragging teasingly over your already soaked pussy when she starts to tease you. You want it? Then admit you’re wrong. Beg for her forgiveness or she’ll let you suffer all night alone with nothing to stuff your needy cunt.

Surprising her with lingerie? She‘ll drop anything. No matter what. No matter where. You‘re getting your shit pounded right on the spot. You’re not walking out of that room and still be functional. Nuh uh.

She loves to take those tits into her mouth. Tongue circling your nipples as her hand find their way to your pussy, lubing the fingers up in your slickness as she bites down while her other hand is giving your unattended girl a good massage. She‘ll never say no that. No matter the size.

Can be the nonchalant type to merely lean back and watch you bounce yourself on her lap. Completely naked. Only a blindfold decorating your flushed face as she has one hand placed on your hip to guide you over her dick. The other one is supporting her head as she is leaning against it. God somebody leannrnsnrnsnnw GIVE ME THAT WOMAN NEOOOOOOOOWWWW

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Irresistible {3} || CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader Summary: What was once heaven turns to hell with the unexpected arrival of a new house guest. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, smut, cheating, kind of taboo (future stepbrother) WC: 4K F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four

It was late by the time Charles entered your room and slipped into the bed. You had retreated to your room after washing the dishes from dinner, silently passing each one to Charles to dry. When there was nothing left to tidy, he sighed and decided he couldn’t delay the call that was inevitable.

“Are you awake?” he asked quietly as he curled his body around yours.

“No.”

You felt his smile on your shoulder before he rolled you over to face him and brushed the hair back that fell over your face. “I think I made a mistake.”

It felt like a cruel joke but you had heard his raised voice through the walls, but the French had meant nothing to you. You were certain that after one argument he was cutting things off but you asked anyway, “Why’s that?”

“Because I don’t want to be in a relationship with her.” He pressed his forehead to yours and the breath you had been holding was released with a relieved sigh. “And she wants to come to the first races too now.”

You pulled back to see the pained look in his eyes and realised you had relaxed prematurely. “I thought you said she wouldn’t go to many.”

“She usually wouldn’t, but with the new race schedule it falls right into her school summer break.”

You huffed at the idea of having to share him and watch as she got to publicly flaunt him. Okay, maybe you were a little jealous - but it didn’t change anything because he could never be yours. “Does she suspect anything between us?”

“I am living with a beautiful woman that I am not related to, of course she is suspicious,” he stated with a nonchalant shrug. “But she won’t outright ask or she would have to give up on the idea that we are perfect for each other.”

Your fingers traced the shape of his beard that was due to be shaved again and your shoulders bounced with a quiet laugh. “Look at you, you have it all figured out.”

For a second his amusement faded away and vulnerability set in as he looked at your laced fingers resting on his chest. “You haven’t changed your mind about coming with me, have you?” His words were whispered like he was afraid of the answer.

“I don’t think I could if I wanted to,” you admitted seriously, before a teasing smirk lightened the atmosphere. “I think I would miss you too much, or a certain part of you.”

“Ah, of course,” he chuckled, grateful for the answer and a distraction, “you only want me for my dick.”

You ran your hand down his bare chest until it met the fabric of the grey sweatpants he wore and teased over his crotch. “I was thinking about your tongue but I would miss this too.”

“I feel used, really, I do,” he huffed but his cock began to stir beneath your palm despite the joking words. “I am just an object to you.”

“Yes, you are, but you are a pretty one,” you added with the sultry smile that always set his blood alight. “So are you going to let me use you?”

He grinned as he easily pulled you over his body to straddle his waist. “Always, ma biche.”

Lockdown: Week Sixteen

“Hey Daveed, sorry about the stairs,” you apologised as you ordered yet another heavy item online knowing there wasn’t an elevator in the building.

It was an odd world that you found yourself in. You knew the delivery driver by name now, but you still hadn’t seen the bottom half of his face beneath the mask.

“What have you brought now?” Charles asked from the couch as he sent a wave to Daveed.

“I’ll show you if you help me move it.”

Curious, he got up and gently moved you aside so he could pick it up himself, his biceps testing the tensile strength of his shirt sleeves. “Where am I putting it?”

You rushed around the couch and moved the coffee table that was covered with your puzzle magazines before pointing to the space made. “I’ll get the scissors.”

Charles watched his floor space change from hardwood boards to the fluffiest shag pile rug he had ever seen. Everywhere he looked there was evidence of a woman in his home and he had to admit he loved walking into each room and seeing it.

You starfished on the rug after unrolling it and sighed happily at how soft and fluffy it was beneath you. “Lay with me,” you ordered Charles when you opened your eyes to find you smiling down at you.

Dropping down beside you, he stared up at the ceiling and stretched out, sliding his arm under your head. He ran his fingers through the soft material before those same fingers ran down your sleeve and pulled you closer to kiss your temple. “It’s perfect.”

The doorbell buzzed and you both looked at each other wondering who it could be. There wasn’t anything else that had been ordered and it wasn’t as if anyone could just pop around for a visit with the lockdown still under enforcement. You were still frowning at each other when the bell rang again, followed by a shrill call that made Charles stiffen.

“It’s Charlotte.”

You sat up in an instant and all but ran down the hall to your room, quickly snatching Charles’ pillow and tossing it into his room with the other random pieces of clothes that littered your floor. The security chain scraped open before the deadlock was unbolted and you scanned his room to see if there was anything of yours there but luckily most activity had been kept to your space. You hadn’t wanted to sleep in the bed he shared with her, that was about your limit in your morally grey code of ethics.

“Uh, hey, what are you doing here?” Charles asked as he opened the door, his shoulders blocking your view from the hall.

“I thought you would be happier to see me after four months,” Charlotte murmured as she walked around him and into the apartment. She was perceptive of all the changes and was obviously not impressed by them as she set her suitcase down. “My travel exemption came through today.”

Charles frowned at the large luggage bag but recovered enough to kiss her when she leant in. Your exemption had been emailed to him a few days ago so everything was set to go to Austria in two weeks time but that didn’t help him understand why his girlfriend had arrived at his place with the bag. “Are you going somewhere?”

“I figured since I was allowed to travel I would stay here, with you, until we fly out. I can finish my assignment here and we can catch up on lost time.”

Your stomach knotted at the thought but she had put Charles in a position that made an argument almost impossible.

“I would love that, but isn't it a little insensitive to Y/N? I don’t want her feeling like a third wheel in her own home.”

“This isn’t her home.” Charlotte rolled her eyes and you took a step back behind the wall as she looked around for you. “You said she’s just a guest you can’t get rid of because your mum asked nicely.”

You swallowed down the angry words that clawed at your throat and had to watch as Charles wrapped her in his arms, to comfort her.

Your silent steps retreated back to your room and you closed the door before you could hear anything more. Collapsing on your bed feeling displaced, you could smell Charles’ cologne clinging to the sheets and resorted to stripping the bedding off. Not willing to risk being caught in any small talk, you mounded the pile of sheets and duvet covers in the corner of your room and pulled a pair of noise cancelling headphones over your ears.

You drifted in and out of sleep all afternoon, waking once to decline dinner, telling Charles that you weren’t hungry through the locked door, despite the loud growls coming from your stomach. When you woke again night had set in and it was dark outside your window. The growls had turned to cramps and you couldn’t ignore the need for food any longer.

Thankfully the apartment was silent when you emerged from your room and crept down the hall. You could walk the whole house blindfolded if you needed, you knew because it had been a game you played with Charles a few times out of boredom, but you turned a small lamp on in the living room. The soft glow was enough to see in the kitchen and you found a note on the fridge door.

You smiled at the thought of Charles saving a plate for you and grabbed it from inside the fridge. It smelt delicious as you warmed it up in the microwave but one mouthful had to dumping it in the bin. Though your back was to the hall you could feel his presence like the kiss of the sun on your skin and you placed the empty plate in the sink to wash it.

“You should be asleep.”

His steps were quiet across the floor before his hands found your waist and his lips brushed over your nape before he whispered, “Can’t sleep without you.”

You turned away from the sink to face him but whatever command you were thinking of to send him back to his girlfriend was lost when he kissed you. You could taste the apology on his tongue, feel the regret in his touch as his hand slipped beneath your shirt and danced along your spine.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know she was going to show up here.”

His forehead rested against yours and his eyes closed when he felt your hands come to rest on his neck, your fingers feeling his pulse race beneath them. The silence was heavy as he waited for you to say something but you weren’t going to dwell on what you couldn’t change.

“You should be apologising for the pasta, I nearly broke a tooth.”

Charles stepped back with a quiet laugh and combed his fingers through his hair. “You know I am not good at cooking.”

“That wasn’t cooking, it was uncooked,” you corrected him with a smile. “Are you hungry?”

He nodded, having missed your cooking and took a seat on the bench where he could watch you quickly bring a delicious meal together. He never understood how you could do that, how you could look at what was in the fridge and the pantry and create a dish in your head. When he looked all he saw were the individual ingredients but you saw the potential each piece had, it amazed him every time.

The minutes quickly passed and it was effortless to chat with whispered voices while you worked, a complete dichotomy from how his evening with Charlotte went. Conversation with her had felt forced, like he was talking to a stranger, and he had asked how the weather was twice just to fill the awkward silence.

He barely even heard your words, recounting a humorous camping trip with your father where he forgot nearly all of the food. But you had managed to survive for three days inventing new ways to eat sausages. You paused when Charles didn’t laugh at something he should have found funny but he was staring at your lips in a daze.

“Are you okay?” you asked with a wave in front of his face.

He snapped out of whatever trance he was in and you thought maybe he had been falling asleep standing up. You nearly jumped when he suddenly pulled you into his arms and buried his face in your neck. “I love you.” You could feel his smile on your skin before he kissed the column of your neck, whispering it over and over as he made his way to your lips. “I love you.”

Your palms met his chest and gently pushed him back as you wriggled from his hold.

“What?” he asked, suddenly nervous and self conscious.

“You’re just having this revelation now? At,” you checked the time on the oven, “1:11 in the morning while your girlfriend is asleep in your bed.”

“I mean, I’ve kind of known it since the day we met…” He scratched the back of his neck and shrugged apologetically. “I think I loved you the moment you called me a bad driver.”

You balled up your fist and punched him in the shoulder. “You could have told me sooner.”

His forehead crumpled in confusion as he rubbed his arm. “What? Why?”

Stepping back into his personal space, you rose on your toes so you could kiss the corner of his downturned lips. “Because I love you too.”

His smile could have lit up the whole city and it made the unexpected arrival of Charlotte a little easier to bear. It was almost romantic eating dinner with a single candle burning on the table, if it wasn’t for the knowledge that there was an unwanted house guest in the next room. You probably should have eaten in silence to make sure it went undisturbed, there was always more you wanted to know about each other. Sixteen weeks together brought a lot of insight into the other’s psyche but there was still over 20 years of history to learn.

“Did Peter teach you to cook?”

Your laugh was a little too loud in the dead of the night and you shook your head. “He can only cook a steak, and you don’t get a say in how you want it either - it’s always extra well done.” You took a sip of the wine Charles had poured and giggled at the thought of your father teaching you to cook. “There was this old woman who did the payroll at dad’s work and after mum left Betty helped step in for all the ‘girly’ stuff. Make-up, cooking, boys.”

The corner of Charles’ lips kicked up in a smirk as he sat back in his chair and sighed happily with a full stomach and contentment he had missed all evening. “I imagine you were already a natural when it came to boys.”

You mirrored his amusement and leaned your head on his shoulder when he draped his arm over the back of your chair. “Of course, one insult and I had them wrapped around my finger,” you joked.

“Worked with me.”

“But you’re weird.”

Footsteps padded down the hall and you sat up before Charlotte arrived wearing a shirt of Charles’. She froze as she found the cosy scene and the sleepy haze lifted from her face. “What is this?”

You smiled and reached for the bottle of wine to refill your glass. “I was hungry, sorry, didn’t mean to wake you. Would you like to join us?”

She looked at the clock and you were surprised to see it was almost 3am. Time always seemed to slip by unnoticed when you were with Charles, he was captivating that way.

“No, thank you,” she politely declined as she held a hand out to Charles. “We are going back to bed.”

Charles let her lead him from the room but he looked over his shoulder with a pout and mouthed ‘I love you’ before saying aloud, “sweet dreams.”

You smiled as you mouthed the words back and promised, “I will.”

That was the last stolen moment alone. Charlotte seemed to sleep lighter and followed Charles everywhere he went in the apartment. He couldn’t even stream alone in his office, her ever present shadow was there in the background to gate keep him from you. At night, their arguments would keep you awake and your French understanding grew to know nearly every swear word they used. 

You could see the misery in the dark bags beneath Charles' eyes each morning at breakfast. Though he no longer sat beside you, there was one perk to facing him with the table Charlotte used as a barrier between you. Warmth ran up your leg and you fought not to react to Charles’ touch, it wasn’t much but it was his quiet reassurance that everything would be okay.

Lockdown: Week Seventeen

You woke to a screech and rolled over to bury your head under your pillow. Unfortunately you weren’t able to block out her voice as it grew louder to the point she was yelling. Tossing your blankets back, you draped a robe around your shoulders and swept out of the room with a mission to find out why your sleep had been disturbed.

“Charles, can you please remind her what an inside voice is?” you asked quietly as you took a seat with him at his piano, watching the angry young woman pace around the living room.

“You live like a pig!” Charlotte growled as she picked up his dirty plate left on the coffee table. “And how hard is it to put the toilet seat down?”

You cast a side eye at Charles to see him struggling to hold a smirk in check. He was clearly enjoying himself but you were confused since he had always put the toilet seat down before, and cleaned up after himself.

“Why are there so many cushions in this place?” Her rant continued as she picked up the floral pieces you had scattered across the couch to bring colour to the room.

“I like cushions,” you answered her rhetorical question, drawing her attention to your presence.

“I know exactly what you like,” she sneered as her eyes darted to Charles before she stormed out of the room, dropping the plate in the kitchen sink as she passed.

“Where are you going?” Charles asked as he made to follow, sending a kiss your way.

“Home!”

You dropped onto the couch, enjoying the way your body sunk into the soft cushions, and listened to the rant continue while Charlotte packed her suitcase. You had to bite one pillow when Charles made a weak attempt to change her mind but then she was wheeling her luggage out the door.

Unfortunately her departing words left you little hope as she promised, “I’ll meet you at the airport.”

The door closed behind her and Charles leaned his back against it with a sigh. You cocked a brow at him before he slid the deadbolt home and all but jumped over the back of the couch, pinning you under his body.

“Finally, I have you all to myself,” he hummed happily against your lips but you tugged his hair back so he could see the confusion on your face. “What? I missed you.”

“You planned all that?”

He shrugged and dipped his head to capture your lips that left you needing more of his kisses and less of his clothes. “I was hoping she was going to break up with me, but I’ll keep working on that. PR can’t be mad at me if it’s her choice.”

You combed your fingers through his hair, feeling the soft strands that were in need of a trim again. “But what happens next? They’ll just set you up with another woman that fits their image for you.”

He shook his head adamantly and pressed his forehead to yours. “I’m done with that. I’ll tell them I need to focus on my career or something to get them off my back. There’s only one woman I want, Bambi.”

You tried not to let his promise affect you but the butterflies in your stomach turned to a burn across your cheeks and you buried your face in his neck. His deep laugh reverberated from his chest as he kissed your temple and started to climb off you.

“Hey, where do you think you are going?” you asked as his weight was lifted from you.

“I was going to bed,” he said with a smirk as he started to walk towards the hall. “Coming, ma biche?”

The cushions went flying as you scrambled to your feet and raced after him. It felt as if the universe had righted itself when you closed your door behind you and found Charles stretched across your bed. For a moment you just leaned back and enjoyed the view that you had missed, but only for a moment - you had better ideas on how to spend your time. 

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” you pointed out.

“Why don’t you come and change that?” he challenged with a smirk. Making himself comfortable, he tucked his hands behind his head but the movement tugged the bottom of his shirt up to tease you with the deep V lines you wanted to run your tongue along.

“With pleasure.” You untied your robe and let the material fall to the floor before you stalked him down and reached for his sweatpants. You dragged the soft cloth down and he lifted his hips to make it easier, not that it would have stopped you.

You dipped your head down, grazing your teeth over his hip bone and goosebumps prickled across his skin. His breath caught in his chest as the tingling feeling spread over his body and he chuckled at the sight of it. It was a reaction he had never had with anyone else, there was no one else who could possibly elicit such a feeling with just one touch. 

“Fuck,” he shuddered breathlessly when you lashed your tongue along one V line. He could feel your breath warm on his cock before it cooled as you climbed higher and he groaned at the smirk on your lips. You were playing with him. 

“Be patient,” you warned as you grabbed his shirt and tugged it up his chest. 

“It’s been 9 days, Bambi,” he gasped when you nipped his nipple before easing the sharp pain with your tongue.

“Exactly.” You peeked up his body from under your lashes and enjoyed the strained look on his face, his brows pinched together and his hands in fists behind his head. He was struggling not to take control and bury himself in you. “I have to make up for lost time.”

You pushed him to his limit as you nipped and sucked your way across his body from his neck to his thighs. “Please, ma biche,” he finally whined as his hard cock pulsed with the need to feel your wet warmth. 

“Since you asked so nicely…” You sealed your lips around the swollen tip and hummed in delight at the taste of him. There wasn’t a word that could describe it but it was an aphrodisiac of the highest strength. Need grew to a throb between your legs and your eyes fluttered shut as you clenched your thighs together. 

A deep groan had your eyes opening and you found a wild look in Charles’ before he reached for your arms. You let him guide you up his body thinking he was going to spear you down on his cock but he shuffled down the bed and positioned you over his face. “My turn, mon amour.” 

Your fingers clutched at the headboard as his tongue expertly found all the spots that made you see stars. Like you, he hadn’t forgotten how to drive you wild in the long days since Charlotte’s arrival. 

“Please, Charles,” you begged as he teased around your clit, keeping you dancing on the precipice of oblivion. He teased and he teased until a growl of frustration tore from you lips and you combed your fingers into his hair so you could grind your hips over his face, taking what you needed from him. 

Satisfied and smiling, you were flipped onto your back and Charles chuckled as he kissed his way up your body. “That was rude.”

“You love it,” you fired back with an equally daring smirk that fell away when your lips parted with a soft gasp as he thrust his hips forward and buried himself inside you.

“Fuck, I do,” he agreed with a moan. His breath heated your neck as he kissed your racing pulse, caressing your skin with his lips until he reached yours. “I love you.”

Click here for the next part.

[hitomisuzuya]

Aventurine x fem!reader. Smut. Masturbation. Vivid sexual fantasies. Fingering. Squirting. Blowjob.

@chiscaralight kindly asked I write for Aventurine. It's almost 6am, and this is probably going to sound like a bunch of high nonsense. I really need this man😭 This isn't what I originally intended to write.

Aventurine's mind races when he masturbates. He just can't help himself today. It was bad enough that he had the sudden, uncontrollable urge to seek relief during work hours. But, there were a lot of factors working against him.

There had been a certain sway to your hips when you walked. The perfume you wore assaulted his senses. When you walked, the pleats in your little skirt bounced, giving the slightest whispered hint of a garter belt adorning your thigh.

Sighing, Aventurine leaned back in his chair, giving the atmosphere time to quiet down. Made sure everyone, including you, was out on lunch. His bewitching eyes closed, his hand hovering over his twitching dick.

One of the things that he has been forefront of his mind picturing what you would look like on your knees, with your pretty lips wrapped around his cock. Looking up at him with a look in your eyes that said there isn't anything you would rather be doing than sucking his cock.

You would be letting out the prettiest, muffled noises, drooling on his cock as he pushed it into your throat. He rested his head back on the head rest of his office chair, unbuttoning his pants and freeing his aching cock. He left his gloves on for extra friction.

He couldn't take too long and risk getting caught.

His gloved fingers stroked his cock. Thinking of how your throat would feel convulsing on it as you gagged, his fingers tightening in your hair to hold your head in place as he thrust into your throat. Your tongue would lap and curl around his cock, a muffled mewl of bliss vibrating on his length as it emptied in your mouth.

Aventurine couldn't stop the lilting moans that started to sound from him. He rutted into his hand, hissing and squirming in his chair, his cock pulsing in his hand.

His mind drifted to thinking of sitting you on his desk, and telling you to be good girl and wait for him while he finished working. His fingers would be idly playing and fingering your pussy. "Shh, shh, it's okay, sweet heart," He'd croon as your juices soaked onto his hand, your hips bucking to nudge his fingers into your sweet spot as he relentlessly scissored your walls apart. Whimpers to please let you cum would spill from your pretty mouth. "Just hang tight," He purred, laughing amused as you suddenly squirted on his fingers, "And wait for me," The pace of his fingers would never relent, overstimulating you as he continued to finger you like you never squirted on his fingers to begin with.

Aventurine massaged his thumb over the head of his leaking cock.

Or maybe he would be a bit cruel.

Aventurine fisted his cock with little regard to how much time was passing. He was too wrapped in thoughts of playing with your pussy, and denying you every opportunity to cum. Leave your pussy puffy and abused, your clit throbbing and walls clenching around nothing. He would purposely stay and work late to make you more needy for him.

His cock pulsed steadily in his hand, the cusps of orgasm building as he thought of taking you back to his penthouse. Stripping you with hushed promises to replace any articles of clothing he tore off. Putting you on all fours, pressing your face into the soft pillows and fucking you from behind.

You wouldn't be able to think, the feral pace with which he fucked you barely gave you any time to adjust as he cock squelched lewd and loud in and out of your sloppy hole.

Aventurine let out a loud, lilting cry as cum spurted into his hand. Relief instantly encompassed his body. He sat there panting quietly for a few moments before cleaning himself up.

No sooner had he done so, you, his sweet little secretary, the object of his fantasies had just returned from lunch.

[melon-fodder]

-> KINKTOBER MASTERLIST <-

♡ WARNINGS: fem-bodied reader, use of a vibrator, multiple orgasms, so much squirt, mentions of porn, did I mention squirting?

♡ WORD COUNT: 1.4k

♡ NOTE: this is just. nasty. Shout out to my irl husband for inspiring this.

“So, what, my dick isn’t good enough for you now?” Yukinari sneers, eyes squinted as he stares at the object in his hand.

You snatch the vibrator away from him then lightly swat him with the bulbous end.

“Insecure, are we?”

He blows a raspberry, follows you into the bathroom as you rinse the toy off just so he can glare at it a little longer.

“No,” he pouts, “just don’t know what the point of all this shit is.”

You smirk, “oh, you’ll see,” then shoo him back into the bedroom where you proceed to explain the role of a g-spot vibrator.

“You like when I squirt, right?”

“Fuck yeah, you know I do.”

“Then this little thing—” you wave the hard plastic in front of his face, “—is gonna be your new best friend.”

Yuki still seems skeptical which really isn’t a surprise at all. He’s the casual type, and you doubt any of his previous fuck buddies have thought about introducing toys into the equation, probably too scared to bruise his ego.

You obviously have no problem doing so.

To help prepare you, Yuki puts his hair up and goes down on you with an expert tongue and experienced fingers, pulling out all the stops as if to prove a point. He sucks on your swelling clit, stretching your hole with stirring and scissoring motions. You’re dripping slick by the time you stop him with a breathless, “okay, okay,” and when he pulls back, the bottom half of his face is glistening.

“M’gonna show you how to use this,” you pant, eyes half-lidded now, “and then you’re gonna take over, yeah?”

“Sure, whatever,” he shrugs, trying to act all nonchalant, but his chest is flushed and there’s a wet spot on his boxers.

Yuki watches as you position the vibrator at your entrance and slowly push it in. He cocks an eyebrow and asks, “it’s so skinny. How’s that even feel good?”

“The skinny part isn’t what’s important. It’s the bigger part of the end that matters,” you tell him, thumb pressing the button at the end of the toy sticking out of you so that it buzzes to life where it’s nestled in your pussy.

“The idea is to—fuck—stimulate my g-spot. S’why it’s shaped like this.”

Spreading your legs more, you bite your lip and focus on finding the right angle, hips bucking when that familiar shock of pleasure shoots through your body.

It’s so much better when someone else is doing the hard work, but even by yourself you can feel your cunt responding to the stimulation, the fluid pooling inside of you. The first of many whimpers falls from your lips when you pull the vibrator out and push it to your clit instead, allowing some of the squirt to leak out of you.

Yuki makes a noise, unimpressed. “That wasn’t anything. I’ve made you squirt way more than that.”

“Just trust me,” you breathe, “and take over. You got the gist of it?”

He nods, waiting for you to push the toy back inside of you before he grips the end of it. “Just tell me when I find the right spot.”

You do. Pretty immediately. Your walls are slick and puffy, engorged with blood from your arousal. Pressure quickly starts to build as Yuki repeatedly presses against that bundle of nerves, obeying when you plead, “harder—just a lil harder…”

It feels so fucking good, cunt pulsing and clenching around the bulb as the vibration sends shockwaves through your nervous system.

He doesn’t even have to pull out before you start gushing, a flood of liquid desire pouring from your pussy and saturating the towel beneath you.

“Holy fuck,” you hear him, and it makes you giggle.

“Told yo—ah!”

He pushes against your g-spot with a little more force, wiggles the toy, stirs your fucking guts, then groans when you squeal as another rush of squirt flows out of you.

“That’s so fucking hot, holy shit…”

He’s transfixed, obsessive and relentless as he abuses your sloppy pussy, reaches forward to massage your clit with his thumb and starts rutting into thin air when your drippy hole opens up for him.

Your thighs tremble, breaths coming in short gasps as your eyes roll. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea. Maybe you shouldn’t have introduced him to this. You might end up stuck here for much longer than you’d anticipated.

Yuki makes himself comfortable, resting his head between your hips. He chuckles, “I can hear the vibration on the other side,” then hums, finds the on/off button, and presses it experimentally.

You howl when the intensity increases, feels like your entire body is thrumming with electricity.

“Shh, relax, baby. You let me in on the secret, now you gotta deal with the consequences.”

The pad of his finger rubs over your clit as he finds a new rhythm with the toy. Every once in a while, he sticks his tongue out, swiping the tip over the sensitive bud in an almost absentminded action. Mostly, he’s focused on the space between your legs, the way it just gets wetter and wetter.

You can feel that the towel beneath you is drenched about halfway up your back, thankful for the protective sheet you have covering your mattress.

“You got more in there for me?” Yuki teases, twisting the toy back and forth. You can hear fluid sloshing around from the movement, feel full and swollen, ready to burst, sobbing when he pulls the vibrator out and swipes back and forth over your clit, swearing at the geyser that shoots out of you. The sound of fluid hitting the sheets makes you flush; you don’t think you’ve ever achieved that kind of distance. In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever squirt this much in general.

“Baby, we gotta get you in the porn industry, fuck, didn’t know you could get so fuckin’ messy.”

“Yuki—Yuki, wait, lemme breathe—”

“You’re breathin’ just fine. I see those pretty tits moving,” he grins sideways as he sits back up and looks at you. You can barely lock onto him brain fuzzy, eyes glazed over, and so very wet.

“One more?” he pouts. “I wanna be in the splash zone.”

You would laugh if you could. He so fucking stupid. But you can’t turn down such an eager, handsome face. He’s like a kid on Christmas as he situates himself between your legs and stares down at your pussy.

“This towel is ruined,” he laughs. He’s still moving the toy inside of you, just slowly. “You even got some cream on it.”

He presses in more firmly, drags over your now very swollen g-spot. It didn’t take him long to pick up this skill, and you have a feeling he’s gonna use it against you for as long as he can.

Bending down at an angle that can’t be comfortable, Yuki sucks your clit into his mouth, running his tongue back and forth, back and forth, fuck, it makes your thighs seize up, makes another pressure start to build. Your breath is completely stolen away as he spoils you, and you can feel yourself start to leak around the vibrator before you cry out.

Yuki leans back but doesn’t stop fucking you with the toy, just palms himself through his sticky boxers as you cum harder than you ever have, a steady stream of squirt hitting him in the chest just like he wanted. More is pushed out of you with every wave of your orgasm, puddling between your thighs, too much for the already saturated towel to absorb.

You tremble, twitching with aftershocks, then take a shaky breath when Yuki pulls the toy out of you.

“Damn. That is a game changer.”

Somehow, you manage a smile, mutter a barely audible, “I know, right?”

You hear more than see him peel his boxers off, the vague motion of his hand pumping his thick cock swimming in your vision.

“I gotta feel you,” he tells you. “Your little pussy’s so fuckin’ fat right now—bet she’s so soft inside…”

Pulling him down for a messy kiss, you replace Yuki’s hand with yours and carefully line him up. There’s no resistance whatsoever—just your swollen, slippery walls that he mold to the shape of his cock.

He doesn’t even get halfway in before he’s moaning in a way you’ve never heard and adding his own warm cum to the mess inside your pussy.

You think it’s safe to say you’ve turned him on to the idea of toys in the bedroom.

[fuctacles]

<< eight | 😺 | ten >>

a little poll while you're here

It's pure torture, sitting in a salon chair. Eddie briefly wonders how women can endure all this treatment and how many of them experience their first homoerotic thoughts under a hairdresser's touch.

The only time anyone is this hands-on with him is during sex, and even then it wildly depends on the partner. His body can't comprehend that it's not a bedroom setting, despite the intimacy of drawn curtains and soft music, and that it is not the time to pop a boner. 

Thankfully, Stephanie swiftly distracts him with questions about his interests, which always works on his nerdy brain. The fact that she's no longer massaging shampoo into his scalp also helps.

"I'm going to cut about this much, okay?" she asks after a moment of brushing and D&D talk, holding up the ends of his hair so he can see. 

"Sure. There's so much of it you can cut more," he jokes but Stephanie cocks her head, pursing her mouth.

Gods he wishes she'd stop making her lips look so kissable. 

"Don't you want to grow them out even more? I think it would look good."

She could also stop praising his hair and overall look.

"You think I could pull off ass-long elvish hair?" he smiles at her mirror reflection. 

"Hm..." She looks at him completely seriously, plays with the hair around his face, and traces the line of his cheeks with the tips of her nails. Whatever vision of him Steph is conjuring in her mind, she seems to like it. "I think yes. Absolutely," she decides, but Eddie doesn't remember what he has just asked.

"Only the ends, then?" she asks, backing away so he can release the breath he's been holding.

"Yeah. Just the ends." He tries to nod, but she swiftly taps her comb on the top of his head. 

"Don't move your head unless I say so," she scolds him with a played-up frown.

"Yes ma'am," he's quick to agree. It's her kingdom and all that. Also, she's maneuvering sharp objects around his head. 

"Good boy," Stephanie smiles again and one of these sharp object might as well have just pierced his heart. 

He knows he won't leave this ordeal unscathed. 

"Could you dye just a streak of my hair? Some weird color, like red?"

Eddie can see her little smile in the mirror. It's a knowing smirk like she was anticipating that question, and this hint of condescension makes her look hot as Hell. 

"If you want red-red and not ginger-red, then I'd have to order the dye," she says, thoughtfully combing through his hair. Stephanie works fast, though, so he's pretty sure she should be done soon. There's another snip of her scissors before she straightens up to look at him properly. 

"As you can imagine, there aren't many adventurous metalheads in Hawkins to work on."

"I'll let you know that during longer breaks there are at least four."

Stephanie laughs.

"Your bandmates, right? But are they all as willing to experiment with their hair?" She raises her eyebrow, and she's suddenly up in his face. The counter behind her creaks under her weight and Eddie wonders how nice it would be to feel it on his lap.

"Well... Gareth's been growing it out," he offers. 

"If he has anything in mind, let me know," she smiles. "I should probably look more into what's new and hip among kids anyway."

"If you weren't holding scissors, I'd pinch you," Eddie scoffs. "New and hip among kids," he repeats under his breath. 

Stephanie rolls her eyes. 

"There's a big difference in hairstyles between Hawkins and Indianapolis though, you can't deny that." She straightens up again to wet her comb in the sink. "Close your eyes."

He does as he's told. 

"Would you want to be—" his breath catches embarrassingly when her damp fingers touch his chin to angle his head where she wants it. "—a hairdresser in a city like that?" he asks.

She hums in affirmation as she combs through his fringe. A stray droplet falls on his nose and she swipes it away with her finger. Eddie wants to lick it clean.

"I've been saving for a second salon, actually. The prices in the city are crazy though."

"Really?" Eddie raises his eyebrows since it's all he can do right now, considering there's a snip of scissors way too close to his eye. He thinks about having Stephanie up in Indianapolis with him. In the same city, that is, close enough to drop for a friendly visit. He could show her all his favorite places, too. 

She hums.

"Do you cut your fringe yourself?" she asks suddenly. 

Eddie sighs. 

"Does it show?"

"Not really," she chuckles. "You did a good job, honestly. It's slightly choppy, but it suits you, so I'm just gonna even it out and leave it like that."

"Oh. Thank you."

She hums again, snipping some hair by his left temple. 

"If I didn't like working with hair, staying here would be torture," she picks up their previous topic. "I got this place shortly before Robin had to move, and I felt stuck in Hawkins without her. But I'm making good money here so I figured I could save enough for a place over there." She combs his fringe again, snips once, and then he can hear a clank when she puts her tools away. 

"How much more do you need?" Eddie asks and then jumps when she touches his face again, dusting stray hair from his cheeks. 

"A bit," she says, but it sounds like more than that. "I was going to sell this place to add to it, but then Robin was talking about opening a chain, so now I'm training Joyce to take over here. Don't tell her though." She bops his nose suddenly, making him squeak. "It's kind of a surprise and I need time to figure it out. You can open your eyes."

Eddie blinks his eyes open and smiles as soon as he can see Stephanie again. But she moves aside, to reveal the mirror behind her. 

"I know it's not much, but is that okay?"

There's indeed not much of a difference, other than his hair being an inch or two shorter and his fringe laying a bit better against his skin. 

"Yes, I'm never cutting it by myself," he says, lightly brushing the hair framing his face with his fingers.

"I can totally do it for you whenever you visit," she agrees easily. "Now, do you want some color in your hair anyway? Because I could bleach that streak you want dyed later, but we would have to deal with the roots when you come back."

Eddie hums thoughtfully. 

"How light can you go? Can you give me like, a white Bride of Frankenstein streak?" 

Stephanie snorts at that. 

"I'm afraid not." She purses her lips, gently rubbing a lock of his damp hair between her fingers. "At least not with what I have on hand. Your hair isn't that thick but it's dark enough to be a challenge for bleaching. I may be good, but I'm not good enough to promise it wouldn't burn to a crisp." She smiles apologetically. 

"I'll wait for the red dye, then." Eddie shrugs. "No problem." 

"Okay. I'll grab the conditioner then, and we should be done soon." Stephanie pats his shoulder and he briefly considers asking her for something outlandish just to keep her working with his hair. 

my boyos:

@wheneverfeasible @steddieinthesun @hattsy-likes-pretty-stuff @bumblebeecuttlefishes @phantomcat94

@tartarusknight  @tinyplanet95 @steddiefication @estrellami-1 @disrespectedgoatman

@madigoround @tartarusknight @blasvemous @cryptid-system

[mygnolia]

get better! | 13. my kitchen almost caught fire!

SMAU! synopsis -› in which your neighbor and popular twitch streamer park sunghoon breaks his arm, so he switches to vlog style content that matches up with your’s! now everyone’s curious why 1) you have a cute boy in your apartment, 2) sunghoon’s not on his grind anymore, and 3) when are you two going to date!?

[1.2k, minor minor cut, cursing]

Choosing your kitchen to film was one of the worst ideas you’ve ever had. 

Sunghoon barely bothers to knock now, yelling at you when there’s no one else in the corridors to let him in. He’ll frantically text you or blow up your phone until he’s impatient from your ignorance and ends up ringing the doorbell to catch your attention. 

You don’t even greet him, and instead, you open the door with an accusatory finger. 

“You better not mess anything up. This apartment is new.” 

He puts his hands up in surrender, following you to see your camera set up, along with ingredients, cutlery, and everything you could need in case he needs to find something. 

“You’re awfully prepared for this,” he notes, walking around the kitchen island to face the camera. “Trust me, I’m friends with a guy who cooks, so I promise nothing bad will happen.”

You stare at him unconvinced, before he hears you mumble something about never trusting men who lie (which he takes a lot of offense to).

Slipping behind the tripod, you click a few buttons, readjusting to get the perfect angle where both you and Sunghoon are in frame, and your roomy cooking space is all included before clicking the dreaded start button. 

“What’s up, Pickles Fan Club? It’s your club president Y/N L/N, and I’m joined with a special guest!” 

Sunghoon’s gaze lingers on your infectiously cheerful personality, before he smiles brightly at the camera and introduces himself once more. You two explain the challenge you’re doing in today’s video, and after the rules are clear, you pull out your cute pink sleeping mask and a pair of white headphones, grinning mischievously when you see him eye the two objects. 

“I’m not wearing that,” He states, staring wide-eyed. You place the items down, putting your fist out to initiate a game of rock paper scissors—and that was how you lose three times, before you had to place your favorite covering over your eyes. 

You hated this; you felt like you could trip at any moment. 

Returning to the camera, you asked Sunghoon to check up on the smaller cameras on your counter and near your stove to make sure they looked right before turning on an upbeat playlist for his headphones. 

“Hey Sunghoon, do I look cute?” You asked, testing to see if he would respond. He was in his own world, staring at the flour and block of cheese as if dozing off. 

Estimating where the camera was based on the counter, you confirmed that, “Either Sunghoon is in another dimension, or he can’t hear me. Anyways, we’re going to make pasta, and we printed the recipe from Jay.” 

Making pasta was probably an even worse decision than choosing your kitchen as your channel’s next battlefield.

It was chaotic as Sunghoon scrambled to lead you away from pricking your finger immediately, telling you to wait as he read the instructions on how the hell you make creamy pasta sauce. 

“Three cloves, finely chopped. You can cut it, right?” You nodded in response, and he handed you the handle of a small knife, watching you carefully find the cloves and using the proper method to cut them slowly without ever hitting your finger. He began to pour hot water into a pot, switching on your stove carefully and waiting for it to heat up. In another pan, he added oil, and measured out heavy cream and butter to keep aside. 

He turns around, just the sound of HOT TO GO by Chappel Roan in his ears as he bops his head to the music before he notices you. Sunghoon grins as he observes how you reach out nervously to find the fabric of his button up. “Sunghoon, where the fuck are you?” You say, knowing he can’t hear you, before you point to your cloves. 

They could use some work, but he slides them into the sizzling oil. 

“Okay, now get the wooden spoon and stir.” You do as he says, slowly mixing as he pours in heavy cream and warns you not to stir too much. He proceeds to place the pasta in the water, switching tasks for you to grate the parmesan instead of stir and possibly burn yourself. 

The moment he sees you stop in his peripheral, he whips around to make sure you’re okay, only to see you’ve nursed your finger after a small scrape against the grater leaves your skin pricked and red. 

“____,” He murmurs, abandoning the stove to make sure you’re okay. “Let me get you a bandaid,” he says. Sunghoon reaches gently for your wrists, and although you can’t see anything, it heightens your senses, and you hear his worried gasp before the barely there pressure of his fingers around your hands. 

Too close. You’re friends. 

You shake your head and stop him by his wrist, finding the block of cheese and waiting until he helps you get it right. What you don’t expect, though, is how he reaches for both of your hands and leans over your shoulder, staying silent as he guides your firm grip on the cheese in the proper direction. 

Friends also do not do this, you think, as he stands behind you and watches you carefully grate a fucking block of cheese. You don’t feel the rise and fall of a friend’s chest behind you or hear their quiet breaths.

Then, something beeps. 

You immediately wring your hands out of his to take off the mask and pull off his headphones to reveal a beeping smoke alarm. Your sauce was bubbling much too high, and somehow your detector went off, and you two turned off the stove before trying to fix the stupidly loud problem on hand. Sunghoon ended up hitting it multiple times on end before it finally stopped, and you looked at each other in fear before quietly returning back behind the camera. 

“So,” you started, “Sunghoon set off the fucking smoke detector.”

He gives you an offended look before turning to the camera as his witness. “It was literally you!” 

You two point fingers at each other before laughing and simply finishing the challenge without your handicaps, and you end up making a really good looking pasta. The chicken looked well seasoned, and although your sauce might’ve burned the bottom of your pan, it leaves a fond memory behind.

To be fair, you both think you did the challenge wrong somehow. 

Sunghoon shrugs before he takes a bite, his eyes glowing with approval. “I knew Jay’s recipes were good,” he comments as he digs his fork back in…to feed you. He opens his mouth as a way to get you to subconsciously do the same, and you raise an eyebrow at not only the hand under your chin to catch any food, but also the fork that was barely a centimeter away. 

“You’re spoon feeding me?”

“Say ahh,” he deflects, before you give in with an amused look. You two spend a few minutes reflecting on how you did, and you still laugh at the fresh memory of your alarm, or cutting your garlic cloves well, or—how Sunghoon felt as he leaned over you and carefully held your hands in his. 

You watch the footage that night with a smile and a storm in your heart, unsure of what the hell you’re going to do regarding a certain Mr. Park Sunghoon.

prev. | ml. | next.

[gh0stsp1d3r]

HEYY BABES SO CAN U DO A JJ x sister!reader (few years younger, she’s a teen.)

TW: depression, talks of SH, ED, etc…

Basically,

She comes home and seems off and all the pogues know she suffers from depression, and so JJ is like hey bbg (NICKNAMES PLS) and lightly tries to understand what’s going on, and she just kinda pretends nothing is going on. She goes to the bathroom to take anti-depressants and then all of a sudden she just desperately tries to look for something sharp to SH. She can’t find anything in the bathroom, so she slowly falls to the ground, has a breakdown, JJ comes and is all comforting and understanding and then after she explains to him how she almost relapsed, and then she well yeah u can makeup the rest

ℛℯ𝓁𝒶𝓅𝓈ℯ

warnings: depression, mentions of blades, attempted self harm. I am not responsible for what u read.

Masterlist

You raced home to the chateau, your hands shoved into your pockets. You held back your tears, taking a deep breath when you stood in front of the door, hand on the doorknob. You twisted it, immediately being met with the faces of your brother and his friends, all lounging on the couch or the floor, nursing beers and joints.

"Yo, what's up, idiot?" JJ asked you, turning to look. You stared back at him and his friends, before wordlessly making a beeline to the bathroom.

JJ turned around, creasing his eyebrows and shrugging at the odd interaction, chugging a beer. Everyone else seemed just as confused.

Worry began to bubble in his chest, and he tried desperately to push it down. The worry only grew when he heard the noises coming from the bathroom.

You locked the bathroom door, letting the tears silently fall finally, and looking at the medicine cabinet. You were throwing and shoving things around, trying desperately to find it, or anything at this point.

"No, no, no." you murmured under your breath, you couldnt find anything, not a blade or even scissors. Your skin was itching, the urge growing strong. You pulled at your scalp, finally falling against the door, your sobbing becoming louder. You held your hand over your mouth, trying to conceal them, but it was no use.

The urge to do it came suddenly, as soon as you left work actually.

"What the fuck...?" JJ muttered under his breath, all of them turning their heads, the room falling into silence now.

"Go check on her, dude!" Kiara told him, shoving his shoulder and motioning to the door.

JJ walked over to the door, messing with the doorknob. He furrowed his eyebrows, panicked, he rapidly moved the doorknob back and fourth.

"Y/n? Y/n, unlock the fucking door, dude. I'm not messing with you right now." He told you, still messing with the doorknob, then banging on the door.

He thought of the time this happened last time at home, his dad shouting and yelling in the background while Jj worriedly knocked on the door of your bedroom, your dad busting the door open and both of them catching on when they saw the sharp object thrown on the ground.

The banging caused to cover your ears, sobbing louder now.

"Y/n... Please don't tell me you did anything stupid." JJ sighed, you taking your hands away from your ears and wiping your tears. “Unlock the door, kid. Please.”

You slowly stood up, unlocking the door with shaky hands. His eyes went to your wrists, making sure nothing new was there. He sighed in relief, wrapping his arms around you, you continuing to cry into his chest with your arms at your side.

His hands cradled the back of your head, he slowly and quietly closed the bathroom door, giving you both some privacy. He waited until he heard nothing but your sniffles to let go. He grabbed your shoulders, staring at you.

"What happened, kid?"

"I... was working, and..." you paused, sniffling and wiping your nose. "I saw dad come up. He- he fucking came up to me, shouting and cussing at me. He almost got me fired!" You told him, anger lacing your voice. "Then he told me that-that I was the reason mom ran away, and I was the reason his life was so shitty, and tried to guilt trip me into coming back." your face creased up as you began to cry again, hiding your face in JJ's shoulder and grabbing onto his shirt.

“He told me that- that I was a terrible daughter, and he grabbed my wrist and-“

“Alright. Alright. You’re okay. Shh.” He swallowed, hand wrapping around you again. Unsure of what to do, he waited until you stopped crying to talk again.

He motioned for you to sit down on the closed toilet seat, and he sat down on the counter, swinging his feet.

“Dad’s- dad’s an asshole, okay? You know not a word of what he said was true, right? He just wants you to come back so that he can fuckin’ steal your money and have someone to be angry at. Fuckin’ prick.” He scoffed, shaking his head.

You looked unconvinced. He stared at you.

“Nothing he said was true, y/n.” He assured you. “He used to say some of the same things to me. You think I let it get to me? Nah. You wanna know why? Because he is a selfish, druggie, loser addict who no one loves. You’re not gonna be him, because you’re fuckin’ awesome, dude!”

You smiled and let out a nasally laugh, making him smile.

“You’re a wayyyyy better surfer and fisher than he is. And he’s a fuckin’ fisherman! How do you let a teenager beat you at your own job, man?” Your giggle widened his smile, you covering your mouth.

“I mean, shit, I would rather be stuck with you for 100 hours than him for a minute. And you ask anyone out there, they’ll say the same.”

You laughed with JJ, and the bathroom was silent until he spoke up again.

“Don’t do that shit again, okay? Especially not because of a nobody like Luke. Next time he comes to your job or even around you, call me and I’ll come beat his ass.” JJ put up fists, punching the air with grunts.

You laughed at his antics and nodded. “I’m sorry, Jj.”

“Don’t be.”

[phoenixblaze1412]

hawoo i like your writings soooooo much!!! can i request something like dottore as our father? like we're his child, literally. can be biological or adopted, up to u!!

His Legacy

Dottore doesn't have the time nor energy to find a lover and create a child with them. He doesn't even want to adopt one, there's a lot of processes that needs to be done before he can officially adopt said child.

If he wants a child, he prefers them to have his genes, a child that can follow in his footsteps and have the same knowledge as he does but from a different perspective of theirs.

What better way to make a child than in the laboratory.

After a month of finding the perfect resources and killing countless women to obtain the proper egg cells, he was able to create an infant, you.

He welcomed you into the world with a grin, his eyes staring back at yours, just the same color as his. He noticed your hair was blue as well, with the tips being a different color, possibly from the unknown mother's genes but he doesn't mind.

The segments all stood on one side of the room while staring at you, currently being held by Dottore himself as he held you out to the segments.

"What is that tiny thing?" "It looks like us but the tips of their hair is a different color." "Are they a failed segment?"

"This child you see before you is mine. I created them in the laboratory using a random woman's egg cell and adding my sperm cell to it. I expect the rest of you to take care of them as well. As for the name... let's call it (Y/n)."

You weren't much of a talker through the years of growing up but Dottore did found out your teeth were sharp like his, he was proud of himself to be able to create you that got most of his characteristics.

He personally taught you everything he knows, from the concept of science itself all the way to the medical field. You're already an expert at opening up a corpse at the fine age of nine without even vomiting or even disgusted at the sight and scent of blood.

Sometimes, the other harbingers would forcefully carry you out of the laboratory just to be able to enjoy the outside world and explore more, much to Dottore's annoyance.

Without the others knowing, Dottore would call a segment and order them to follow you and make sure that you're okay without being caught by his fellow harbingers.

You were given the nickname 'Mini Dottore' by Childe.

Whenever the eleventh harbinger called you that nickname, he would end up in your father's laboratory with a large bloody bite wound on either his arms or legs, courtesy of you.

On special experiments that requires a living test subject, Dottore wouldn't allow you to join in on the experiment, you would be taking the job of an assistant if an occasion arises.

Yes he taught you how to hold a scalpel and how to open up a body but he did it with a dead one. He didn't want you to kill a living organism yet, he may be crazy but he's not crazy enough to let his child watch a person screaming to death.

The segments would use you as a secret weapon if they were told to ask Pantalone for more fundings for their projects. They knew how the regrator couldn't say no to you. You may be a mini version of your father but you're way more adorable than him is what Pantalone stated.

We know Dottore's hair is usually around shoulder length but he doesn't know how to style it. With you in the picture, he had to deal with your hair because it would be everywhere and it is a big problem. It's either he cuts it short with scissors or style it.

He doesn't style it. He just grabs the nearest sharp object he could use and cut it short. He did thought of styling your hair like his but the idea was quickly thrown to the trash when you pouted at him. Luckily he knows how to do a ponytail, although quite messy but he makes sure it doesn't get in the way of your tasks.

Dottore would often be puzzled whenever he would see you caring for animals that were supposed to be used for his experiments. He concluded that this kind personality of yours could have belonged to the woman he killed back then, whoever she was. At least he didn't have to tell you who your mother was if you ever asked him, you were made in a pod chamber in his laboratory after all.

It may not seem like it but Dottore is proud to have you as his child. Aside from the new opinion and perspective he benefited from you, you grew on him and made him care for you.

'Father's little helper' is the nickname Dottore would coo at you whenever you assisted him with his experiments.

The segments treated you as their little sibling, making sure you're safe from harm. Doesn't matter if they get injured themselves because they can handle it but you on the other hand, are more fragile than them.

Dottore promised himself that he would never make you experience the things he went through in his past. He would never make you feel like a monster like he had endured back then.

Some would call you the second harbinger's apprentice, others would call you his pet.

The harbingers however, calls you Dottore's legacy.

[hrtsdevils]

you made me love the number forty-three | fall to me au

summary: a close-knit bond is formed between luke hughes and y/n l/n throughout the years. they have their ups and downs, but they’ll always be there for one another.

pairing: platonic luke hughes x family friend!reader

wc: 1564

warnings: fuck ass bob

a/n this is based off of abby by gracie abrams, and it’s very dear to my heart! pretend that luke wasn’t committed to umich 2 years before he graduated… for the plot! sorry jack’s kind of a meanie, i love him!!! i swear!! it just fits w the lyrics <3 enjoy and thanks for reading!

tell me your secrets, ask every question. my door is open twenty-four/seven. think you were made from something in heaven. you made me love the number eleven forty-three.

october 2008-september 2010

Your family had known the Hughes family for as long as you could remember. Your mother had played soccer at the University of New Hampshire with Ellen, and she was the first person to cheer her on once hockey season started. This allowed them to form a close bond over their four years of eligibility. The Hughes family travelled a bit around the country due to the careers of Ellen and Jim, but as soon as they settled in Toronto with their seven, five, and three-year-old sons, your mother followed suit with five-year-old you and your eight-year-old older brother.

The older two boys in each family started hockey, and Jack was soon to follow. This left you and little Luke to hang out in the care of Ellen, and occasionally your mom. At first, you loved him, he was like your personal baby doll that you could drag around, dress up, and have tea parties with. Luke didn’t usually object, except for that one incident where you tried to make him wear “clip-clops”, as you called them, to which he had a temper tantrum about the sheer idea of putting them on his feet.

As you grew older, Luke wanted less to do with you and your girly things and more to do with hockey, along with whatever else the boys were doing. Although normal of him, you still felt betrayed. What can you say; you were seven years old. To try and make you fit in, Luke took craft scissors to your long, wavy hair and cut it to look like the boys. Maybe you’d have looked better if you had a pixie cut done by a professional salon, however, he was slightly less than and you came out with the same shaggy haircut as the five-year-old. You ran to your mom immediately, about to cry of embarrassment.

“Mommy, something bad happened!” You screeched, interrupting her conversation with Ellen and catching the attention of the three boys.

Covering her mouth slightly, Ellen was the first to speak, “Oh, sweetie.. what happened?” She reached out to touch your now chin-length locks and brushed a few stray longer hairs out of your eyes.

“Luke cut it, so I could play hockey with them.” You gesture towards the boys, “And now I... I look like him!” You exclaimed out of horror, finally realizing the drastic nature of your actions.

You started to tear up before your mother cut in, “Baby, you both look adorable! It’ll grow out soon, don’t worry about it.”

You were still seething for the rest of the day, and you were plotting your revenge plan on Luke for weeks. You wanted to kill him, and had been ignoring him since that very moment.

You figured your life was over, and what better way to spend your final moments pretending Luke didn’t exist after what he’d done to you. You decided that he was public enemy #1, or at least that’s what he was until you looked in the mirror, albeit a month or two later, and your hair had grown out into a short bob, framing your sweet features beautifully. You started to feel better about it.

Later that day, you went up to your mom and curled up in her lap. “Do you think Luke and I will ever get along again?” You asked while she was reading a book.

Your mother sighed and smiled at you, “You and the boys just have different interests. When you get older, things will be different and you’ll be even closer.”

december 2015

Your mom was right, although you and Luke were pretty far in age, he was practically your baby brother and best friend. You were close, despite differing interests and he would confide in you on a regular basis. One particular night, Luke rode his bike down the sidewalk in the cold, snowy winter and knocked on the window to your first-story bedroom.

You immediately let him in, then asked him what was wrong. Ten-year-old Luke pulled you into a hug and started spilling out his feelings and secrets. “Jack’s so rude!” He exclaimed into your shoulder, “He thinks he’s so much better at everything! Hockey, Mario Kart, basketball, all of it.”

“And?” You inquired, “Just ignore him, Lukey.”

He sniffed some more and released himself from your arms, “He keeps excluding me from his friends and stuff, they’re over and he pretends I don’t exist because I’m not good.” He wiped his nose and sat on the carpeted floor by your bed, “Quinn’s not home, he’s at a tournament with Mom.” He attempted to clarify why Quinn couldn’t stop, although you already knew because your brother was with them.

You frowned, “That’s not cool of him.” You quickly shot a text message to Jim saying Luke came over here to hang out, so nobody got worried. “Are you hungry?”

He nodded, and you offered to make some Kraft mac and cheese. “Feel free to listen to music or something, love you.” You slipped out the door and went to make him some dinner.

Since you were little, you knew for certain that you’d always be there for him and now you knew you’d always look out for him, whenever he needed it. Even if one day he’d be more able to protect himself than you ever could, today you would refrain from marching over to the Hughes residence and getting in a physical fight with Jack.

march 2020

It was almost your eighteenth birthday, so you were visiting home to hang out with your parents, the Hughes’, and a few other hometown friends. You entered the front door to your house after catching up with your friend over coffee to see your parents and the Hughes’ bent over Luke and his laptop. “What’s up?” You question, hanging up your big, puffy jacket.

“We’re waiting for my UMich college acceptance letter, they sent them out today.” He said, nervously. You could tell by the shakiness of his voice.

You joined them at the table, “Don’t be silly, Lukey. You know that they’ve already expressed interest in you and your game.” He smiled a little as you ruffled his hair, and sat down at the chair to the right of him.

“I wish Jack and Quinn were here.” Luke sighed and scratched his head, “Jack promised he’d call, but I think he’s busy.”

You frowned for him, you knew how much closer he and Jack had become in the last few years, but they’d drifted again when Jack moved to New Jersey last year. A part of you wished Jack had gone to college and stayed closer, but you and Luke knew he was too good for the NHL to wait on. “I’m sure he’ll call soon, bub. Give it a little bit.”

After about twenty minutes of refreshing and chatting, the letter from the University of Michigan popped up. It was nerve-wracking. Luke had already been accepted into a few safety schools that wanted him on their hockey teams, but he really wanted to follow in Quinn’s footsteps and go to Michigan. Luke’s cursor hovered over the email for a few moments before clicking it, and to nobody’s surprise, it was an acceptance letter. Everybody cheered, but you seemed the most excited (besides Luke, of course.)

“Luke!” You squealed, hugging the boy from the side as tight as possible, “You did it!”

He hugged you back, “Thanks for supporting me, and letting me sleep on your floor.. and buying me food all the time.” He chuckled, “Couldn’t have done it without you, sissy.”

present day

It was Luke and Jack’s day off, as they had zero games scheduled for the next few days. You had come to visit them to watch a few games, and you were staying at their apartment. It wasn’t a rare occurrence that you came and watched their games, stayed in the guest bedroom of their Hoboken apartment, and hung out with their team and whatever WAGs were joining them. But today it was just you and Luke, chilling on the couch and watching ‘Elf’.

“Remember last November when we went to New York?” You recalled while watching Buddy run through the city. Luke turned the TV down and grinned.

He nodded, “Yeah, good times. And we ate so much chocolate that you almost threw up.”

“That wasn’t because of the chocolate,” you objected, “it was because you were making me laugh so hard my organs hurt.”

Luke snorted as he remembered the vacation and the hotel room you guys stayed in. It was a spontaneous trip on a week when he was injured to try and cheer him up. You guys sat all night judging random music albums and your boyfriend at the time. It was all just a part of a collection of memories you loved to revisit, a photo album in your head.

“God, I can’t believe how old we’re getting.” You said, a tone of sadness. “You used to fit on my shoulders, and now I think you might break them if I tried to give you another piggyback ride.” You laughed softly.

“I’m grateful that our moms raised us two houses down.” Luke threw a piece of popcorn at your face.

You threw it back, “I’m grateful I get to know you.” You stated, a smile gracing your features.

i’m right here. fall to me, to me. fill your head with sweet dreams, sweet dreams. you’d never hurt a thing, nothing. i hope you know to talk to me.

end

[multi-fandom-imagines8]

A Song of Ice & Shadow

Part 3 

You can read previous chapters here.

Summary: Y/n is adjusting to her new life in the Night Court, where she finds herself interacting with the Illyrians much longer than before, whether by chance or by force. An unexpected encounter with Azriel ignites something between them.

Warnings: slight self-harm, struggle with identity.

Word count: 2.55K

Waking up to the gentle hum of birdsong, Y/n resolved that today marked the day she would get out of bed, despite the lingering ache of her wounds. Steadily placing both feet on the floor, she managed to stand up and make her way to the bathing room. Confronted by her reflection in the mirror, it dawned on her that this was the first time she had beheld herself since her transformation. Staring at the unfamiliar figure before her, tears welled in her eyes as grappled with the stark reality of her altered appearance. Determined to confront her unease, she left her room for the first time, in search of a sharp implement, be it scissors, a knife, or a blade. 

Rhys was lounging in an armchair, when he noticed Y/n’s troubled demeanor. He greeted her but was met with silence, unsure if she’d intentionally ignored him or simply could not hear him. Perceiving her distress, he inquired “can I help you with something?”.

“No- wait. Actually, can I borrow one of your blades?” Y/n asked.

Confused by the sudden interest in blades, he asked “what for?”.

“I don’t have time to explain. Can I or can I not?” Y/n grew impatient.

“I don’t have one on me, but if you tell me, maybe I can get you one of your own” Rhys offered.

“Never mind, can you tell where the kitchen is?” she sighed in frustration.

“If you’re hungry, the house can make you food. Can you tell me what this is about?” he inquired.

“So if I want something, I can just ask the house?”.

“Technically, yes”.

“House, may I have a knife?” she looked up as she asked.

Rhys chuckled “you don’t have to look up”.

“I thought you said it would give me what I wanted, so where’s the knife?”.

“It appears the house is disinclined”.

“So, what? The house has moods now? I don’t have time for this” Y/n declared, striding out of the room, in search of a sharp object. After ten minutes of searching, she finally found a blade and hurried back to her room. Observing her rushed return, Rhys sensed something was amiss. He knocked on her door, but there was no answer. He knocked twice more, before he forced the door open. He looked around but couldn’t see her, fearing the worst. Rushing to the bathing room, he discovered Y/n poised before the mirror, blade in her hand, blood dripping from her pointed ear, as she attempted to cut it off.

“Stop, stop! What are you doing?” Rhys intervened, clawing the blade out of her hand.

“Give it back” she screamed at him.

“Cutting them won’t change what you are” he reminded gently.

“I don’t care! Give it back. At least I won’t be constantly reminded” she implored, holding back tears as she tried to reach for the blade.

“Wait, wait, there’s another way. I can glamour it, and you won’t have to see it, not until you’re ready” he offered.

“You can do that?” she calmed down slightly.

“Yes, and I can teach you”. After a moment of contemplation, Y/n assented.

“-and just like that, you can glamour things. Don’t get frustrated if it doesn't work immediately; it takes time and practice. If you ever need anything, just please ask me. Don’t rush and try to do things on your own. You can ask for help” he reassured her.

“I don’t need your or anyone's help. I can do things on my own” she declared.

“I know you can, but sometimes it’s easier to ask for help”.

“To you maybe. I prefer relying on myself. Thank you very much”.

“It was just a thought... Are you good now?”.

“I’m fine, you can leave now”

“I meant, how are you feeling after healing? Are you still in pain?”.

“I’m fine. I can manage. Now please leave, you are giving me a headache”.

“Was that a long conversation for you?” Rhys snorted.

“Well, certainly the longest we’ve ever had. I just hope for all our sakes that this will be the longest we’ll ever have” Y/n forced a smile.

“I highly doubt that”. As he reached the door, he halted and turned to face her again “Don’t let him win. I know you hate being Fae, but don’t let the King of Hybern break your spirit” he advised.

The next day, Y/n went to see her sisters. To her shock, Nesta just sat there reading a book, while Elain, well, Elain looked so different from when she was human. Her skin was pale, no colors gracing her face, her body was so fragile. She just sat in the corner of her room, staring lifelessly out of the window. The sight of her broke Y/n's heart. She tried talking to her, getting her what she needed, but she knew this couln’t be fixed.

Having so much spare time, Y/n tried writing to her biological father, but she didn’t know where to start, what to tell him, she herself did not even know what her future looked like now. So every time she tried writing a letter, she’d hesitate, discard the letter and start again. Her daily routine now consisted of waking up, eating, checking on her sister, attempting to write to her father, bathing, and sleeping. She was not used to this kind life, leaving her feeling confined and trapped. Seeking solace, she headed to the roof, where she discovered a large training ring. There, she encountered Azriel, who acknowledged her presence with a nod, before returning to his training.

As she turned to leave, something within her compelled her to halt and speak “You’re healed?” she remarked more as an observation than a question.

“I am. I see you are healed as well” he replied, pausing his training to face her.

“I am” a genuine smile appeared on her face “and the General?” she inquired.

“Still healing, but he’s getting better” he studied her every move, every expression on her face.

“I’m glad” she nodded, turning away and leaving him to his training. He debated saying something further to her but ultimately remained silent, letting her go, as he was unsure of what to say.

---

Unable to endure the confines of her room any longer, Y/n decided to have breakfast in the dining room. Seeing as she’d woken up late, she believed the room would be empty. Unfortunately for her, it was not. When she entered, she was met with the three Illyrian males, laughing and eating. She was about to sneak back out, but Rhys caught her “good afternoon, Y/n, or should I say good morning?” he mockingly greeted.

“Shut up” she played it cool and decided to sit at the far end of the table, opposite Rhys, with Cassian sat on his right and Azriel on his left.

Silence fell in the room, as she ate the meal the house provided her with. Feeling the weight of their gazes upon her, she finally spoke “Am I interrupting something? Because I can just go back to my room” her eyes met Rhys’.

“Not at all” Rhys smirked, resting his head on his palm.

“Then why are you all staring at me like some miracle had happened?”.

“You’re eating with us” Cassian clarified.

“Is there a rule against it?”.

“Nope, but I thought you had one”.

“I see your sense of humor hasn’t changed but shouldn't you train more, talk less” Y/n glared at Cassian.

“Are we your prisoners?” she returned her gaze on Rhys.

All three males’ eyes widened in shock “No, why would you think that?” Rhys, taken aback, clearly felt offended.

“The only way out of this house is through the ten thousand steps or flying”.

“I told you, you can always ask for help. Any one of us would take you out” he reminded.

“So, if I were to leave now, you’d let me?”.

“Yes, you’re not a prisoner, Y/n. You’re free to go anywhere you want” Rhys assured her.

“If that were the case, I’d be able to come and go as I please, without asking anyone to take me and bring me back, like some kind of a child” she confronted.

“Ah, so that’s your problem? Not being in total control of everything” Cassian added, earning a kick from Azriel under the table.

“I do not think you want to pick a fight with me now, General. Your wings are still healing” she remarked.

“And you think you can take me?” Cassian raised one brow.

“Cassian, this is not the time” Rhys warned.

“I’d like to leave now!” she stood from her chair, ignoring Cassian’s comment.

“But you’re eating”.

“I lost my appetite and would like some fresh air”.

“Alright”.

From the training ring, Rhys held her and said “hold on tight, you might not like this part” as he lunged into the sky.

“I’m not afraid of heights” she said, as she tightened her grip around him, taking in the new sight of the city and the fresh breeze. They descended near some shops in Velaris, and he asked if she wanted him to stay, to which she of course refused. They agreed on a time for him to pick her up and told her if she desired something, she could just put it in the house’s account, which again, she declined. Strolling through the city, observing the Fae going about their business, looking normal, she thought to herself they’re not so bad after all. One thing she noticed though, was that people here were happier than anywhere else she’d seen. When the agreed time came, she was standing at the spot where Rhys had left her. But instead of him, she was met with Azriel, whose wings were spread as he descended. This was the first time she fully saw the length of them. They were massive, she thought to herself. The way he tucked them in effortlessly as he strode towards her, his chest slightly rising, outlining his muscular features beneath. The heat flushed her cheeks as he got closer “Where’s your High Lord?” she snapped back to reality.

“He’s occupied at the moment. He asked me to come in his stead, so you wouldn’t have to wait” Azriel replied, maintaining his composure, even as the shadows seemed to whisper to him.

“How considerate of him” she sucked in a breath.

“Shall we?” he extended his hand to her. Y/n looked at his extended hand, noticing the scars, she wondered had they always been there? Lately, she’d been noticing a lot of things she never considered before. Gazing up at him, their eyes met for a split second, his face unreadable, before she looked away and took his hand. Despite his cold appearance, his hand was warm, while hers was freezing. At that moment, Azriel became aware that this was the first time they had any physical contact. Glancing at her, he could feel that she just had the same thought. 

His touch sent a jolt of electricity coursing through her veins, igniting a firestorm of unfamiliar emotions deep within her core. Then, in one fluid motion, he gathered her into his arms, lifting her effortlessly off the ground. As he did, she instinctively placed her palm on his chest, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps as she struggled to maintain her composure. He held her close, his arms wrapped securely around her waist, one scarred hand resting gently against the small of her back to support her. Removing her hand from his chest, she encircled her arms around his neck, fingers tangling in the soft strands of his hair as she relaxed, sending shivers down his spine. 

She was not the first woman to touch him like that, hell, he’d been with many women and had done a lot more than that. But she’s the first woman who made him feel like this…He was always able to keep his cool, to maintain his focus on whatever he was doing. But around her, he was losing it, losing control. She was beginning to take hold of him, not that he’d admit it.

They took to the sky, the rush of wind whipping past them, tousling her hair, strands brushing against his cheek. As they did, he caught a whiff of her sweet, tortuous scent. Even his shadows danced around her, stroking her face. She clung around him tightly as they soared higher, the heat of his body seeping through the thin fabric of her clothes. She could feel the hard muscles of his chest tense beneath her, and he could feel her heart racing against his chest. Managing to pull herself together, she tilted her head to the side, trying to get a view of the city.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” noticing where her eyes wandered, he asked.

She murmured “especially at night”.

As he was about to bank, he tightened his grip around her, warning her to brace herself.

As her feet reached the ground, she removed her arms from around him. He lingered for a moment before doing the same.

“Good night” she muttered and quickly went down the stairs to her room. He stood in the training ring in solitude, lost in his thoughts. That night, Y/n could not fall asleep.

In the next couple of days, Y/n rarely left her room. She’d leave once a day to check on her sisters and immediately return to the comfort of these walls she was growing accustomed to. Rhys came to check on her after her return and tried to initiate a conversation with her but was dismissed. During that time, she shifted her focus to the letter she was to write to her father. And for the first time, she managed to finish a letter before throwing it away. On the day she finally left her room, she wrote a letter and was satisfied with the content, but she kept it in her room, hesitant to send it. 

As she entered the dining room, she was greeted by Rhys and Cassian engaged in a discussion. She took to her usual seat and started eating what the house offered her. Somehow, it knew what she liked.

“Look who decided to grace us with her presence” Cassian remarked mockingly, a smirk playing on his lips.

“And look who's yet to regain the ability to fly with a fully healed wing” Y/n countered with a mocking pout.

“Enough you two! Can’t we have one normal day?” Rhys sighed, attempting to diffuse the tension.

“He started it” Y/n quipped

“I was just being nice” Cassian retorted.

“No you weren’t” she glared at him. Minutes later, Azriel entered the room, his expression slightly uneasy as he took his seat beside Rhys.

“What’s with you?” Cassian inquired.

“Nothing” Azriel replied in an icy tone.

“Clearly, there is” Cassian persisted.

“Mind your business, Cassian” Azriel warned and Y/n almost choked on her food, earning her a quick glance from him.

“Any word from my sister?” she shifted her focus to Rhys.

“She’ll be home soon”.

“Home” she scoffed “such a funny word” her eyes flickered.

Cassian was about to say something, but Azriel shot him with a glare that made him back down.

Taglist: @st4r-girl-official @judig92 @5onedirection5 @nayaniasworld @blackgirlmagicforever @stained-glass-eyes0708 @slytherintaco

[naomijoestar]

SWAG okay I was just asking if like. La Squadra with a goth reader but the Stand is like one of those little cute clown dolls???

Kinda like one of these if that makes sense??

Masterlist here <3

I just wanted to let you know how much I enjoyed writing this, I’ve been wanting to give La Squadra something for so long!

You didn’t specify whether this is platonic or they’re dating so I made it platonic, I hope you don’t mind. 💕

(Stand side nots: it’s small in size but not as small as the sex pistols, stand abilities: cartoon physics type of stuff, you’ll understand what I mean when you read)

La Squadra with a goth intimidating reader who’s stand is a cute clown

(Bucci Gang version)

Risotto Nero

Risotto eyes you from the shadows, his gaze a piercing mix of curiosity and wariness. He’s used to assessing threats at a glance, and your dark, gothic aura suggests you’re someone worth watching. Expecting a deadly stand to match your look, he’s caught off guard when a colorful, plushy clown appears at your side, giving him a cheerful wave. Risotto’s eyebrow twitches in confusion. “That…is your stand?”

You merely nod, unbothered by his judgmental tone, and watch as the clown suddenly pulls out a giant anvil from behind its back. Without a moment’s hesitation, it hoists the heavy object above its head and slams it down toward Risotto. He dodges just in time, but a massive crater forms where he’d been standing. Now, his interest is piqued.

The battle is intense, with Risotto using Metallica to manipulate nearby iron objects, while your stand counters with cartoonish props that make no sense. When Risotto sends sharp metal scalpels flying your way, the clown produces a comically large pair of scissors, snipping each projectile mid-air before any can touch you. He clenches his teeth, frustrated but impressed, realizing your stand’s unpredictability is a dangerous advantage.

As the fight progresses, Risotto attempts to corner you, but your clown keeps pulling off unexpected tricks: an endless rope to trip him up, a cartoonish boxing glove that launches itself from its body to land a powerful blow, and even a giant magnet that affects his own stand. Despite his usual stoicism, you catch a slight twitch of a smile at the edge of his mouth, a rare acknowledgment of respect.

Formaggio

The moment Formaggio sees your stand, he bursts into laughter. “A clown? For you?” he teases, clearly amused by the contrast. He underestimates both you and the clown, finding the sight of it bouncing around in its colorful, knitted outfit hilarious. “Oh, this is too rich! What’s it gonna do? Tell me a joke?”

But as he’s busy laughing, the clown’s wide grin turns mischievous. With a snap of its fingers, it pulls out an oversized mousetrap and sets it right near his feet. Just as he takes a step forward, SNAP! Formaggio yelps, his foot caught in the trap as the clown cackles, its high-pitched laughter echoing.

Annoyed, he shrinks himself down, hoping to slip away undetected, but your stand has other plans. Suddenly, a tiny circus tent appears around him, trapping him inside with exaggerated cartoon walls that stretch and contract whenever he tries to push against them. He scrambles around, bumping into props like juggling pins and rubber balls, each one oversized and ridiculous. Every escape attempt is thwarted by the clown stand, which gleefully watches from outside, tapping its nose as if to say ‘Nice try!’

Frustrated, Formaggio finally escapes, only to be greeted by a pie to the face courtesy of your stand. You can’t help but smirk as he stumbles, wiping cream from his eyes. Lesson learned: don’t judge a stand by its appearance.

Illuso

Illuso sneers, confident he can handle whatever your stand throws at him. He’s unimpressed by the clown’s playful antics, crossing his arms with a smug grin. “That thing can’t possibly stand a chance in the Mirror World,” he scoffs. He reaches out, attempting to drag the clown into his dimension. But as he tries, the clown’s face smashes against the mirror like it’s in a slapstick cartoon, flattening with a loud ‘SMACK!’

Irritated, Illuso tries again, but the clown wiggles its finger at him in a mocking gesture. Then, with a flourish, it pulls out a comically large mallet and begins pounding the mirror. Each hit causes cracks to form in the reflective surface, sending Illuso scrambling to repair it from his side.

Realizing he’s losing control of the situation, he attempts to flee, but the clown is relentless, conjuring up ridiculous items: a huge pair of pliers that it uses to tug on his jacket from the real world, a tube of glue that it splatters across the mirror to trap him, and even a giant, inflatable hammer that bounces him around when he tries to escape. By the end, Illuso is fuming, his pride wounded as he’s bested by what he initially thought was a “harmless joke.”

Prosciutto

Prosciutto gives your clown stand a cold, judgmental look. “How ridiculous,” he mutters, activating The Grateful Dead to age it immediately. He expects the clown to crumble like any other target, but instead, the clown’s cheerful expression only morphs into an exaggerated elderly one, complete with a fake beard and comically oversized glasses. It hobbles around, leaning on an imaginary cane, but still manages to wave cheekily at Prosciutto.

Annoyed, he increases the aging effect, but the clown retaliates by pulling out a huge spray bottle labeled “Youth Juice” and spritzing itself. With a little shake, it reverts to its original state, completely unaffected by Prosciutto’s stand. He grits his teeth, realizing this is going to be more complicated than he anticipated.

As the fight goes on, your clown stand begins to toy with him, pulling absurd stunts to dodge his attacks. At one point, it stretches out its arm impossibly long to reach around him, delivering a surprise slap across his cheek. When he lunges at it, the clown conjures up a banana peel, sending him sliding across the floor in a rare moment of humiliation. By the end, Prosciutto’s usual calm demeanor is shattered, replaced with a barely restrained fury as he realizes he’s been made a fool of.

Pesci

Pesci is intimidated by your dark, gothic look, but the clown stand’s cheerful demeanor throws him off balance. He chuckles nervously, finding its antics strangely endearing. He reaches out, almost wanting to pat it, but that’s when the clown’s eyes glint with mischief. Suddenly, it pulls out a gigantic fishing pole, casting the line straight at Pesci’s Beach Boy.

To his horror, it hooks onto Beach Boy and starts reeling it in, dragging him along with it. He panics, trying to regain control, but your clown stand is relentless, pulling out one absurdly oversized object after another: a big rubber chicken that smacks him across the face, a fake tunnel painted on the wall that he crashes into, and even a gigantic fishbowl that it briefly traps Beach Boy inside.

Pesci ends up sprawled on the ground, out of breath and utterly bewildered, realizing that the “cute” clown was anything but harmless.

Melone

Melone’s analytical mind goes into overdrive the moment he sees your stand. He’s immediately intrigued, trying to understand how something so cute could pack such a punch. He releases Baby Face, expecting the creation to take care of the clown stand quickly. But your clown is ready. It pulls out an enormous vacuum cleaner and begins sucking up Baby Face’s cubes as they approach, each one vanishing with a satisfying “pop.”

“Fascinating,” Melone mutters, momentarily captivated. But his awe turns to frustration as the clown pulls out more absurd props: a giant fly swatter to smack down any cubes that regenerate, a massive cartoonish rubber band that it snaps at Baby Face, sending it flying back, and even a bucket of water it throws in Baby Face’s direction, which somehow shorts out its pieces temporarily.

Melone watches in frustrated fascination, torn between admiration and irritation as your clown completely disrupts his plans. His usual calm is nowhere to be found as he finally realizes that no amount of calculation could prepare him for your stand’s chaotic nature.

Ghiaccio

Ghiaccio scoffs the moment he sees your stand, launching into a furious rant about how impractical it is. “A clown? Are you serious? How can you take this fight seriously with something like that?!” he shouts, his icy rage fueling White Album’s powers. He expects you to be intimidated, but your clown merely giggles and pulls out an enormous fan, blowing back his freezing attacks with ease.

As Ghiaccio’s temper flares, the clown pulls out a barrage of comedic props: rubber chickens, cream pies, and a mallet that’s almost as big as he is. Each item hits him with perfect comedic timing, making him look increasingly ridiculous as he stumbles, rants, and struggles to stay upright. His face flushes with frustration as he realizes he’s being outmaneuvered by a “stupid clown.”

His final attempt to attack is thwarted when the clown produces a firecracker, tossing it at his feet with a cheeky wink. The explosion leaves him covered in soot, looking like a classic cartoon character after a mishap. Seething, he roars, “STOP LAUGHING!” as your clown grins back, unfazed.

I hope you enjoyed this! If you’d like anything fixed or anything specific don’t be shy to message me and tell me!

If you liked this make sure to check out my other work, and if you’d like anything specific for any jjba character/squad from parts 1-7 don’t be shy to request it!

[deblklesb]

[In This Economy — Abby x Reader OneShot]

[established relationship, fem!reader, angst, fluff and smut (MDNI)]

a/n: again, so so sorry for the wait 😭😭 i hope you enjoy it!

cw: abby and reader fight, angst, reader is neurodivergent and goes in a slight verbal shutdown, scissoring, oral (r! receiving), fingering (abby receiving), pet names.

word count: 3,1k | not proof read

!reblogs are highly appreciated!

You were thrilled; tired, but thrilled. Inside your backpack sitted a small box with a very expensive gift for the most amazing woman in the entire world, and you were looking forward to finally giving it to her.

It cost you tons of extra work, with more shifts at work and nights awake. During the time being, hiding the idea from her was the hardest part, your excitement so big you had to physically restrain yourself from spilling the secret. In the end all went well, and now you are heading home from the jewelry store after spending all your savings.

The familiar building with old painting called your attention back from your thoughts, you grabbed the keys and noticed shaky hands. Trying to calm yourself, you repeated mentally how she would like it, obviously, that you had nothing to worry about. The way your insecurities made every situation like this a stress was awful, despite your efforts to work on it. It was a long way, after all.

You breathe deeply one last time before opening the door to your apartment, the cozy living room visible from the corridor inside.

"Abs?", you called while taking off your shoes, making sure she was home.

"Hey, babe", her voice came from inside and, while relieved, you also felt a chill in your stomach. "How was your day?"

"You know, the usual…", mostly true; except for the gift, your day was the same. "And yours?"

"People at work got me a cake", the smile on her voice was noticeable. "It's pretty good, I put it on the fridge"

"Nice", your feet made contact with the old wooden floor, the window in the living room giving sight to the other side of the street.

Abby was at the table reading something, probably from her job. She worked so hard, you both did, and you just wanted to give her the world.

"Happy birthday, pretty girl", you kissed her face after leaving the backpack in the corridor, getting a smile and a hug by your waist. "I love you"

"Thanks, babe. Love you too", she looked up just to get more kisses, chuckling.

"I got something for you"

"Oh?", her blue eyes got filled with curiosity and you just wanted to squeeze her adorable face.

Quickly, you got the little box in the backpack and came back, putting it on the table. She was intrigued, especially considering your excitement exhaling from your pores. So she grabbed the small object and opened.

Sitting inside there was a ring. It was a simple silver ring with a golden line around it.

And the room was filled with silence. You could hear the cars outside and the buzz from the people walking, some birds and pigeons flying. You always loved this sound, the mixture of life happening in the world, and it wasn't nothing exaggerated, so you enjoyed it. But right now, due to the anxiety, all you wanted to hear was Abby's voice.

She picked the ring, analyzing it. The blue eyes wandering around the details as she turned it side to side.

"Why… Why did you buy me this?"

This wasn't what you expected to hear.

"You… Didn't like it?" That was the wrong question. You surely wanted to know whether she liked it or not, but it just blurted out because of the emotions, not rational at all. You shouldn't have asked this, because your heart was this close to breaking.

"I… It's beautiful, babe, but this must have been so expensive!", the frown in her brows denounced she was angry. Why was she angry? "We have so much with the house, and I know we work very hard, but we still have stuff to do. And instead you decided to buy me a ring?"

The bubbling inside grew, you wanted to hide. Suddenly you felt self-conscious about your bands and how you didn't know what to do with them while standing there. And the sounds of the cars felt too much.

"It's just… I can't accept it"

"What?" If the look you had on your face didn't denounce the amount of confusion you felt right now, it was a pity. "No, no. Abby, you have to. I worked double shifts for this…"

"That's why you've been getting home late?!" She stood from the chair, still holding the box on one hand and the ring on the other. Was she screaming at you?

"Well, yeah! I needed to get the money, I didn't want to buy it and get debts, so I got the full amount of money", you screamed back, frustrated for doing so.

"Are you serious?!" Her tone. It was angry. Why was she angry? This was supposed to be sweet, it was her birthday, she wasn't supposed to be feeling like this today. Did you do wrong?

"Why are you reacting like this?!" Your heart was beating so fast, face getting warm with the tears coming.

"Because you just worked your ass off to get a stupid ring while we still have stuff to do around the house. You could've got something for the both of us… Or the house!"

With heavy breaths and a confused mind, you took from the smallest pocket of your pants another ring, thinner, matching the one she was holding. Tears started to flood your face against your will, which made you more frustrated. You didn't want to cry. After showing it to her, you put it on the table, making a loud sound that irritated yourself. Abby, silent, stared at it.

"There. It was for us."

Then you went putting your shoes on again, so fucking affected in a way you couldn't put in words. It was just too much.

"What are you doing?"

"Going out. Again. I won't stay here while you're angry, especially because I don't understand why you're angry at me", you turned to her again while grabbing your coat. "I didn't do anything wrong. And, yes, I worked my ass off to get this. You should probably think better about that before I come back, because all I wanted to do was give you something nice, when we're always getting money to make repairs in the apartment and we barely have other stuff to ourselves, anyways"

Without giving her the time to answer, you just stormed out of the apartment, closing the door.

And immediately the cry intensified, which just made you so much worse. You hated to cry in front of people, and the amount of feelings inside right now kept coming up your stomach and forming a knot in your throat. Head aching, body feeling too much all of a sudden, and you just wanted to disappear from the earth. Not even the clouds outside, something you enjoyed to look at, brought you back from this disconnected state.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

By the time you came home, it was already dark. The cars now had headlights on, which made you flinch every time one crossed the street. Still, you kept going until reaching your old building. The lights from your apartment were turned off, and you truly thought Abby was asleep already - even though it wasn't late, it would be much easier.

When you closed the door and flicked the lights, there she was. Sitting on the couch, holding what you noticed to be your ring, the thinner one.

You didn't say a thing. Just took out your shoes, wishing this discussion to be over. Wanting to forget you had this idea anyway.

"Babe…"

"I don't have the energy to fight, Abby" you started to head to the bedroom, craving for some comfort right now and picturing your bed. Body feeling too heavy and head light. "Just… Let me sleep."

"I don't wanna fight", she said, captivating your attention again. You turned around in time to see her getting up, her clothes with tears' stains. Her blushed face confirmed the previous action and your heart sunk into your chest, like a punch in the guts. And you knew she felt the same when noticing your own cried out features. "I'm so sorry, babe…"

"We can do this by the morning", she kept her distance, respectful of your space. It was hard making contact in moments like that for you, and she knew it.

"No, please, let me." When you didn't move, she gave a step into your direction, careful. You stood there, waiting. "I'm sorry. I truly am. I just have been so stressed these days, no matter how hard we work, stuff doesn't seem to work out. And I just want to give you the best, all the time…" more steps, she was closer now and you were allowing it. The truth is that you wanted to hug her, feel her, because she was one of the only people you trusted to touch you in one of those moments, even though a time was necessary. "I got mad because I didn't want you to work so hard to give me something. Sometimes I feel like that's my job, it's hard to accept things"

"You work so hard, and you give me the best all the time, love. You're amazing. That's why I wanted to give you something this time. Spoil you a little bit, because you deserve it too", you murmur, feeling the warmth irradiating from her when she's close enough. "We can… Turn it back if that's your wish"

The blonde shook her head in denial.

"I shouldn't have gone mad at you. Sorry for being a jerk. Truly, if someone is to blame, it is the government. And the rich people making everyday life suck. And this economy", you chuckled lightly, nodding along. She caught your hand carefully, putting the matching ring on your finger. "It looks good on you"

"On you too", you finally made your perception of her ring on her own finger verbal.

"Can you forgive me?" Her blue eyes held honesty and care, all of this while she finally touched your face with both of her strong hands. "Please"

"If you promise not to do this again", the proximity metamorphosed your voice into a whisper, your previous anxiety in pure relief, the tension in need to give in.

Her breath reached your face and you held her by the waist, the strong muscles comforting your senses.

The small kiss bubbled your belly, it was so good. You loved her so much. Loved her taste and how the kiss, now deeper, consumed you whole. Frying your thoughts, taking you away from all the previous madness, noisy rhythm. Her hand on your nape, keeping you close, made you crazy. So little and so much.

Your hands traveled under her shirt, noticing how she wasn't using a top or bra and, all of a sudden, the sensation of her breasts against you was loud.

"I promise", she whispers under the kiss, love-biting your chin. And your chest is so full, you want her so bad from one second to the other.

Giving space to her lips on your neck and walking back when she does so forward, you sigh and pull up the clothing that covers her torso. She helps you finish the task, taking your coat next and pulling close by the waist, your bodies glued and needing to merge. The height difference made her tower you and it drove you crazy, weak knees and needy core.

Abby holds your face up to continue to kiss your neck, unbuckling your pants down until you have to move your feet to take it off completely.

The situation escalates fast enough, soon you're laying on the bed with her buff body on top of yours, hands feeling her muscles as your legs tangle and the wetness on your cores are mixing with friction. She moans, hair getting messy, and she's so hot all over that it has you speechless.

A strong hand wraps around your neck possessively, the way she does to drive you crazy, but she doesn't squeeze. It's just the positioning, the sight of you happily at her mercy, looking so fucking gorgeous as your clits bump into each other and her piercing blue eyes are fixed on your face. Your moans are like music to her ears, pleads for more, gasoline to her fire. Hips going faster, the free hand adjusting your leg so you can be nice and open to welcome perfectly her form. Her skin is blushed, freckles adorning her entirety in innumerous constellations and the muscles flexing compete for your attention.

"You're so good for me, babe", she murmurs, biting her lips as your pussy clenches around nothing and you're so close to coming with the friction. And her eyes fill with lust and passion, the hold loosening and her thumb presses your bottom lip, caressing there.

You just surrender. Partially because it's the natural reaction of your body to Abby: to let her get her way with you, with the knowledge that she'll do well to pleasure you both until you can react to act for yourself. But also because all the previous stress tired you enough. Abby knows it, and her plans involve taking care of you in the best way possible tonight.

Like reading your mind, her hips move faster and you're moaning louder. The sensation of her skin on yours, her pussy rubbing deliciously against yours with all the wetness around and between, your poor sensitive clit receiving friction all the time.

"So fucking pretty, taking me like that", she leans in, eyes glued to your expressions as you frown and holds up your leg like you're physically begging her to fuck you. "Gonna take care of you all night, uh? Come for me, babe, come on"

The idea of her having you all night it's enough to send you off the edge. Your eyes close and your whole body tenses, overwhelmed by her all over you. Your moans are literally whines now, but they vary with your guttural noises.

"So, so beautiful", her tone it's always nice, always pronouncing in a way to comfort you, as she kisses your face and moans with her own high flooding her body.

You just let her move you around like she pleases, now being put laying on your belly. The strong hands soon get into work, massaging your flesh as her lips trail pecks and licks into your skin. Abby takes more time on your ass, groping it.

Due to the position you can't see, but she's staring at you like the most beautiful work of art possible. Like she's infatuated with it, a specific glow in her orbs when she can capture the sight of your wet pussy between your thighs. Fuck, she needs to worship you forever.

The tall woman adjusts herself behind you, pushing your legs so they can give her space. Her strong arms wrap under your thighs and she locks her grip on you and elevates your hips, now face to face to your glistening pussy.

A loud sigh escapes your mouth as soon as her mouth makes contact with your core. Eyes rolling back, you're so sensitive already but you know she won't stop unless you ask her to. She keeps going, using her tongue to caress you whole, up and down, and it's so heavenly good. You can't help but grab the sheets and the pillow, contorting yourself all the time and moaning to show her how fucking done you're getting. How she can easily mess with you in the most profound way in these moments of intimacy.

The whole time she's eating you, you moan and call her name. It's the only way you can verbally externalize what you're feeling now, overflowing with heat and desire. Nipples and head pressed against the mattress, mouth falling open from the constant explicit sounds and head in the clouds due to her hot muscle against your most needy place.

It doesn't take long before you're on the edge again, the familiar feeling on your tummy and the involuntary faults of your body warning the scenario. Abby kept going, holding you in place with her strength when you kept contorting. Her own core was tightening constantly, she was going crazy tasting you, feeling you.

Abby was so obsessed with you, so in love, that the mere thought of making you upset made her feel like the most ridiculous person on earth. She just wanted to make up for it, fuck you down like you enjoyed and make sure to spoil you down the rest of the week.

With hands traveling through your skin, Abby received your high with a groan. Your juices on her mouth, clit hard on her tongue and folds against her mouth and face; she was in heaven.

"You're always so so delicious", she said, kissing your ass on both sides. "So good for me, babe"

Her kisses went north and soon she was laying next to you, a hand pulling you close as her lips touched yours. In a hazy state, you retributed the act while your hand rested on her face. The heat coming from her body made the duvet expendable, she was the warmth that could comfort your most cold days.

Passionately you keep kissing her, trying to show how much you loved her without using words. Abby feels consumed by that moment, melting under your touches as you take control for a moment. You don't say anything, just spread pecks around her face, going down to her neck.

"You make me crazy", she whispers, both hands still on you since she can't keep them to herself.

While you feel her on your palms, traveling your touch to her core, Abby keeps whispering sweet nothings to you. You accept every single one of them, groaning when reaching her wetness.

Soon you were looking at her face, drunk on her. Taking in each reaction, the way her cute lips were parting so she could moan and pant. Her freckles adorning those beautiful features, she held your face as your fingers worked skilfully on her. Her folds welcoming you, soaking in heat like she would only do for you. The smell of the moment filled the room and your digits filled her inside, reaching the places she needed the most.

Strong hips twitched in your direction, her legs separated like she was calling for you all the time.

"Please, bun, don't stop", she pleaded, frowning.

You collected some of her moisture to start massaging her clit. The bud excitedly against your ministrations as she moved her body, breath choppy and heavy.

The last straw was your lips going to her nipple, tongue circling the rigid place as your hand firmly moved on her soaking pussy.

She was seeing stars under the lids when her eyes rolled back and closed, body out of control as she repeated how much she loved you in that honey-coated voice. She was so beautiful, so fucking perfect, you could come with that vision alone.

[png dividers by @cafekitsune]

[celestiamour]

ft. cassandra nova x f! reader — marvel

╰₊✧ “how come your fingers are in everyone but me?”┊0.7k words

contains: smut!! dom cassandra & sub reader┊master/pet dynamic, fingering

➤ author's note: sapphics, come get your food (i need her so bad)

₊˚ʚ 💌₊˚✧ tagging some people i saw in the "cassandra nova x reader" tag: @cyber-harpie @ilovecookies12

even if her long, dexterous fingers have always been an object of your fascination, you swear it was only a joke, never expecting her to do anything of this nature with you when she’s everything and you’re just one of the many variant minions running around, something you laughed about after seeing her hands go through another’s mind for the thousandth time. 

although, you wouldn’t complain about the compromising position you found yourself in when night fell and she called you to enter her room, in fact, it made you wish you had asked her that question earlier. the power exuding from her tone when she told you to strip and sit on her bed was a massive turn-on, which isn’t something she needed her telepathy powers to figure out.

“what a dirty girl you are,” cassandra cooed, “so wet, and i haven’t even done anything yet.” her attention was locked on your nude form with a focus on your bare heat, a little smirk on her face and a sparkle in her piercing eyes that loved what she was seeing. she remained fully clothed, reminding you of the imbalance in power, leaning your back onto her chest and resting her chin on the crook of your shoulder. “such a slut.”

her breath ghosted the shell of your ear and made you shiver. “don’t tease me, please…” you whined at her middle finger gently running along your folds trying to buck your hips into her touch yet only making her move away and booping you on the nose with the index finger instead. it’s such a silly little gesture in such a sexually charged situation, showing how much she loved to toy with you. it’s her favorite thing ever, even up there on the list with entering people’s minds, she just never had the chance to do it in such an intimate manner before.

“how desperate,” she tutted as if disappointed when she really relished in how needy you were for her. you’re so soaked that the first two digits slipped in with ease, but not without a soft gasp at the intrusion, starting her pace lazily before slowly picking up speed. 

pathetic pitched moans slip from your lips, music to her ears, rolling your hips to push her further into you and clutching onto her other arm that kept your thighs parted for dear life. the unfamiliar buzzing warmth of pleasure pricked your skin, unable to remember the last time you felt so good ever since entering the void as your own touch and random one-night stands couldn’t compare.

the way her talented fingers quickly located and started curling up to bully your sweet spot had you breathless, occasionally scissoring you apart and causing white sparks to flicker in your vision. you didn’t last very long, shuddering and tearing up as your climax washed over you like a wave and you writhed in her grasp, gushing all over her hand.

you were too immersed in lust to realize how intensely cass was admiring your beauty, her first time really noticing the physical features of your face when before you would always look away from her gaze when you met your eyes. she was never sure if it was embarrassment or fear, but she can now see it was the former given the obvious crush you had. “what a cute little thing you are…” 

even though you were already spent from your first real orgasm in ages, she wasn’t done with you yet as a wicked idea formed in her mind. her fingers continued to plunge into you, making you yelp from overstimulation and trying to shrink back into her because you didn’t think you could handle taking her again so soon.

she chuckled darkly seeing you squirm, “don’t try to run from me, isn’t this what you asked for? besides, I decided you don’t need to be my minion anymore, you can be my pet instead!” she retracted for a moment to show you the sleeve of her trench coat, particularly the dark stain on the fabric (although, your sex-hazed mind was hardly able to process what she was doing). “after all, i need to punish you for getting my coat dirty, don’t i? the night is far from over, pet~ i want to see more of those beautiful reactions…”

[missmimii]

୨ৎ －𝐑𝐈𝐁𝐁𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎𝐏𝐒 | 𝐌 - 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐎

♡︎ － 𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | In which the reader uses her artistic skills to make herself a new top takes a turn for the worse when it ends up ripping during a family dinner. Or maybe for the better..

୨ৎ — 𝐂𝐖. None! Maybe a teensy bit suggestive, but mostly a whole lot of tooth rotting fluff ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

𝒩ℴ𝓉ℯ𝓈 －I fear this may not be what I intended it to be, but I’m just going with the flow

✃－Y/n remembered the exact moment she fell in love with art, like it was the back of her manicured hand. It was an indescribable adoration that she failed to linked to any particular emotion, none of which fitting the description for just how much loved it. The girl’s eyes would twinkle as she stared up at ethereal art pieces that hung in museums, her hands would shake until giving up when she sewed new fabrics, and even still, she gazed at the work like it was everything.

✍︎︎－This love for all kinds of creativity carried throughout the girl’s entire life, and career. She’d always considered it a spectrum, there was so many things that could be considered art. Drawings, paintings, cinematography, music, and even clothes. And even though sometimes she lacked confidence in her own artistic abilities, Matt was always there to support her along the journey.

✃－A safety pin sat between the girl’s two plump lips, eyebrows knitted together with concentration as she looped the sewing needle through the soft fabric. Her finger tips ached from the tight grip she had on the darn thing, wrist shaking ever so slightly as she finished off the loop with a cross switch. Finally. Shoulders falling with relief, she gently sat the shirt back onto her small desk.

✍︎︎－Just as she plucked her dressmakers scissors from aside her, two soft knocks were placed on the already cracked open door. “It’s just me,” A hand wrapped around the edge of the door, Matt’s head poking in as took in the sight of his girlfriend in her zone. “you’ want me to come back later?” He asked, taking a step back before he even could finish his sentence.

✃－“Hey－” the door creaked open again, making the girl giggle. “I’m basically done.” Matt threw a sheepish smile her way before pushing the door open with a gentle nudge of his hand. Her two hands rested behind her on the table as he approached her, looking a little too happy to see her. “Hey baby.” The boy murmured, hands cupping her cheeks. The girl’s eyes fluttered shut as he pressed his lips to hers in a chaste kiss, pulling away not long after.

✍︎︎－She let out a hum of happiness, the girl’s eyes swam with gratitude as he peered up at him. “Hey you.” She mumbled with a smile tugging at her lips, playfully poking his chest. Matt tilted his head down at the girl with a lopsided grin, dodging the touch with a huff of amusement. “Someone’s happy.” He chuckled.

✃－He watched as her smile grew bigger at the remark, rubbing his calloused thumb against her cheekbone. “Mhm,” lifting a eyebrow, he watched as she brushed off his touch, turning around. The triplet let out a small grunt of surprise, her jean covered backside pushing into his clothed front as she bent across the table. What was she － “Ah~” She hummed, a hand snatching a tiny pair of scissors.

✍︎︎－Matt watched as she shuffled around with a few items, all of which he’d only knew the names of because of his girlfriend. That’s .. that’s a marking pen, a seam ripper － maybe not. Okay －maybe not off the top of his head, but he knew some things. The girl’s newfound interest in designing was something that he’d have to research more before commenting on, but with the rate she was working at, he was sure he’d know every term within mere days.

✃－The room dedicated to her projects, in his house, was usually reserved with more artsy objects. Which if he’d repeated in front of the girl, he’d end up getting lectured on how almost everything is art. But to Matt, art was drawings, or paintings －maybe even some music. Not that he’d ever tell her that. So when he saw boxes upon boxes of ribbon and satin fabric being delivered to his house, you could say he was shocked. to say the least.

✍︎︎－Matt’s one hand ran up and down her side as she toyed with a few foreign objects, tilting his head in interest as he watched he lift the main piece. “Ta’ dah’!” The girl mused softly, holding up a cream white top, pink ribbons adorning the underside of the breast area. Matt’s eyebrows drew up in surprise as he observed the clothing article, pride filling his chest. My girl did that. “Wow, dolly.” Reaching out a hand, he rubbed the soft material between his fingers.

✃－His girlfriend practically shook with excitement, having been waiting weeks to show the now finished product. “And look,” turning the top, it revealed the open back, ribbon crisscrossed in a corset like manner. Cute. Matt thought to himself, knowing it’d look even better on her beautiful body. “You’ likeee?” She drawled out, withholding a giggle of glee.

✍︎︎－Tearing his gaze from the shirt, he watched she tipped her head upward, their faces upside down to each other as she stood facing away. “I love it, pretty.” That smile －he watched as it grew, splitting across her pink lips with excitement as her hands shook ever so slightly out of pure joy. “Almost as much as I do you.” He murmured, pressing his lips to her forehead.

✃－Peacefulness soothed through her body at the loving gesture, the girl’s eyes fluttering shut as his arms slowly weaved around her shoulders from behind, lips still pressed to the skin of her forehead. Placing peck after peck down the span of her forehead, down the bridge of her cute nose, till his lips met hers. Matt’s arms loosely caged around her neck, one hand slowly gliding down her chest from behind.

✍︎︎－She playfully rolled her eyes as she felt him palm over her one breast, breaking away from the kiss for a moment. “What’re －” she let out a sound of surprise as he almost immediately forced his lips back to hers, a laugh leaving her lips. “got it.” She murmured into the kiss, Matt’s hand slipping down to her belly. Running his tongue along her bottom lip as a silent plea for her to part her lips, she complied without hesitation. Though, she did love a good fight for dominance. As his tongue slid past her lips, she gently nipped at the tip.

✃－The male grunted at the contact, eyes opening with reluctance. “Brat.” He mumbled against her lips, lips twitching as he heard her giggle.

♡︎－ His girl．

✃－ Yelping, the girl spun around with a glare on her face as she felt yet another swat against her bottom. “You,” Matt nonchalantly leaned on his counter, eyes wide as he held up his hands in defence. “Not’ me.” She narrowed her eyes on the boy, before flicking them down to the washcloth in his hand.

✍︎︎－Matt let out a small gasp as his girlfriend’s hand reached out, swiftly snatching the stained cloth from his hand. “Hey－” he stepped forward, watching as she tucked the towel behind her back with a devious smile on her perfect lips. “I have to do dishes.” The triplet excused, half-grinning as he put his hands on his hips. “unless you want to do them－” Her face fell.

✃－She looked into his eyes for a solid ten seconds, tongue poking inside her cheek as she glared. Ugh. “Slap my ass again,” She grumbled, shoving the cloth into his chest with petulance. Swat. “Matt!” She hissed, reaching behind her to shield her backside from his hand as he slapped it, again. Matt’s head tilted back, chest shaking with chuckles as he stumbled back. “Your parents are here!” She whispered embarrassedly, looking around.

✍︎︎－He continued to laugh, shaking his head while his cheeks turned red. It was not funny. She stomped forward with one step, slapping his chest. “You told me to!” He argued, laughing even harder. “I was warning you －stupid.” She tried to sound angry, so damn hard. But eventually she broke the facade, rubbing her jaw as she felt her lips tip up. “Ah ah－” Matt tutted pointing an accusing hand at her.

✃－The exposure only increases her amusement, chest moving with small laughs as she covered her mouth with the back of her hand. Matt stalked forward, carefully tugging her hand away from her face. “You’ angry, doll?” She nodded her head, more giggles eliciting from her lip. “Yes?” Matt mused, lifting an eyebrow as he tilted his head down at her. “Cause those little laughs say somethin’ different, baby.” She shook her head, still trying to cover her large smile.

✍︎︎－The male pried her hand away, his own lips breaking into a huge grin as he saw her foolish little smile, laughs lulling off of her tongue. “My angry baby.” He murmured, grabbing her cheeks in one hand as he condescendingly shook her head back & forth, still smiling as he slammed his lips to hers. Matt’s hand ran down her jaw as she melted into the kiss, moaning softly.

✃－Matt’s free hand slid down to her neck, rubbing his palm over the mantra of her pulse, before it trailed down her side, squeezing the dip of her waist in a clingy embrace. The girl giggled into the kiss, avoiding the touch. “Stop.” The triplet smiled, mumbling a small ‘nuh uh’. His fingertips brushed her side, making the girl laugh. “What?” Matt murmured against her lips, her hands pushing against his chest. “that tickle?”

✍︎︎－ “Yes!” He chuckled at her addictive giggle, bringing the hand back to her face, tucking stray hairs behind her one ear. “That’s my bad, baby.” His girlfriend just rolled her eyes, grinning softly as he blinked up at him with a resting comfort. He was so .. Matt. The girl wasn’t fond of change, but he could change himself ten times over and she’d still be the happiest girl to live, by his side.

✃－She’d noticed the tone of his mood had immediately shifted the second they hopped off the plane to Boston. He was home. And other than being with her, home was the happiest place for Matt. He swung the keys to the rental car around his index finger while him and his brothers approached the vehicle, one arm draped over the girls shoulder as he smiled at nothing.

✍︎︎－And while she’d met his parents on more than one occasion, the girl felt a little nervous on how they’d perceive her now. After all, she wasn’t the poster girl for an amazing girlfriend. She stuttered when she was brought up in conversation abruptly, chit-chat wasn’t never her strong suit, and a solo career may not have seemed like a great job to most parents. But with these ‘flaws’, she made up for with just how much she loved Matt.

✃－ “Good job setting the table, you two.” Matt and his girlfriend pulled away from each other as a familiar voice spoke up, Chris, alongside the eldest triplet, walking into the dining room. Matt threw the youngest a little glare, tugging the girl closer to him. “Fuck off, Chris.” Chris being－ Chris, mocked his brother, mumbling a squealy ‘Fuck off, Chris’. The girl blew out a small laugh as Matt place his head into the crook of her neck, murmuring a small. “I don’t sound like that.” Her baby.

✍︎︎－She and him proceeded to set the table, per Marylou’s request, the couple sneaking soft touches, and quick kisses whenever they squeeze past each other. Chris and Nick saw their miniature rendezvous from their place on the couch, the youngest resisting the urge to faux gag, knowing that Matt would probably throw a glass at him. Nick silently admired, happy that his brother had found the peace he deserved.

✃－Mwa’. The girl pulled away with a small snort, a hand placing on the dinner table as she felt tempted to laugh at the male’s action. “Stop doing that.” Matt hummed, tipping his head to the side as he giggled. “Doing what?.” She rolled her eyes, reaching across the table to place the last fork on the placement mat. “You’re not supposed audibly kiss someone.” She murmured, blowing a few hairs from her lips as she spoke.

✍︎︎－Matt came up behind her, placing two of his hands on her lower waist. “I’m not ‘audibly kissing’ anyone, I’m audibly kissing you.” He mumbled, his hands gliding up to run over her adorable little top. She’d ended packing the shirt, knowing that she probably would’ve regretted not. Bows and ribbon crisscrossed the back, revealing small spans of her soft skin. The shirt wasn’t even scandalous, and still, he wanted to bend her over the table, fuck her while pressing small pecks to the openings of satin.

．．．．．．

✃－ “－and the whole thing just fuckin’ exploded.” The giggled around the edge of her glass, listening to Nick tell his parents the story of how Chris had shaken his drink prior to handing it to him. Chris leaned back in his seat, a grin on his lips as he threw back the remaining Pepsi in his can. “You deserved it.” The eldest threw him a glare, shooting ready to bolt across the table.

✍︎︎－Matt sat aside her, his hand resting innocently on her thigh, thumb running up and down her soft skin every now and then. The girl taken notice of Matt’s lack of conversing, but payed no mind as she watched her boyfriend happily nod and listen to everyone else with content. It wasn’t unusual for him to be this quiet, nor did she immediately label it as him being ‘upset’. She waited, and waited, up until she found one particular sign that he was acting the way he was.

✃－Like the current for example, though he was keeping to himself and opting to keep his talking to a minimum, she could still tell that he was in a good mindset. Matt’s hand would softly squeeze her thigh every now and then, shooting her a little smile when she looked up. The triplet’s eyes practically swooned as they met hers, love glittering in the blues.

✍︎︎－Marylou stood halfway, her hand reaching out the grab the salt shaker that sat beside Nick and Chris, who bickered to no end. “Oh －I got it!” The girl shot in, Marylou sending her a warm smile as she leaned across the table, swiping the salt from the surface before placing it in the woman’s hand. With her eyebrows drawn together with confusion, she slid back down into her seat, feeling a large hand glide up her back. “Baby,” She turned her head in Matt’s direction, seeing his eyes widened. “Your shirt －”

✃－Huh? Her own hand reached behind her, sliding up her back. What －her jaw went ajar as her hand came in contact with the bare skin, no ribbon or material felt as she palmed around the area. “It must’ve came undone, or something－” Matt rambled in an undertone, cutting himself off as he realized the overwhelming state his girlfriend was in. Shit. “Hey,” He placed a hand on her jaw, tipping her chin in his direction. “look at me.” He watched as her breathing picked up, one hand shaking softly as she brought it up to the one of his that held her jaw, placing it atop his as she seaked comfort

✍︎︎－ “It’s gonna’ be fine, doll.” He whispered, nodding his head a bit as she shook hers. “yes it will－I’ll make sure it is.” Matt’s eyes flicked around the dinner table, everyone too caught up in either bickering or conversing to notice him and his girlfriend’s current dilemma. He turned back to her, seeing her eyes glaze over with incoming tears. “You’re gonna’ stand, and I’ll come up right after you.” No. She immediately shook her head.

✃－It was too risky she thought. His parents probably didn’t even like her as it is, and now this? God, why did she have to wear the stupid top －“Y/n.” Matt snapped, her stressed movements immediately coming to a halt he leered into her with a sharp gaze. “It’s okay,” he reassured softly, running his thumb along the underside of her bottom lip. “do you think I’d let you go topless in front of my entire －”

✍︎︎－Her one hand slapped over his mouth, cheeks tinting red with embarrassment. “Okay, okay!” She whisper hissed, eyes flicking back to his after looking around the table. “Tell me when.” Matt lifts a brow, we didn’t have time for a countdown, he thought. “Now.” Now?! The girl’s eyes flew open, staying in her exact place. Rolling his eyes, he chuckled a bit while standing up, one hand sliding down her waist from below, pulling her up with one final tug. “Upsie’ daisy.” He murmured against her jaw, placing a playfull kiss on the skin.

✃－The couple waddled around the corner of the dining room, his chest pressed to her back until they were free from his family’s eyes. “Oh my god, oh my fucking god－” The girl ran her hands down her face, distressed as Matt closed the washroom door behind the two. Matt ran his tongue over his teeth, finding himself oddly attracted to her back of all places. “I can’t believe this is happening to me.” She whispered, elbows falling onto the sink counter as she leaned over with a groan.

✍︎︎－Matt on the other hand, found himself lost in his own little world as his eyes glued onto her back. With every inhale the faint outline of her lats would appear, the soft skin painted with a hue of pink due to the overload of sun she’d gotten at the beach, a week prior. Her waist .. Matt’s adams apple bobbed he saw the dip between her hips, just above her perfect ass. Faint freckles littered across the surface, begging to be kissed as he buried himself in her from behind.

✃－The girl let out a sigh after ending her sentence, narrowing her eyes as she was met with silence. “Matt?” Her head lifted from the cold counter, looking at the male through the mirror. Again, silence filled the air as she watched Matt lift a hand to his jaw, running his palm across the curve. “Hm?” Finally, his eyes drew from her ass, meeting her gaze through the mirror.

✍︎︎－She rose a brow of accusation. “Did you hear anything I just said?” Matt bit down on his bottom lip, a smirk cursing his lips as he softly shook his head. She rolled her eyes with a soft groan, head dropping into her arms again. “What do I dooo?” Her voice came out muffled while her lips pressed to her forearm.

✃－He cocked his head in contemplation for a second, humming softly as he pressed a hand to his girlfriend’s back, her head snapping up. “C’mere.” Matt mumbled, guiding the girl up gently. Her shoulders were tensed in embarrassment, a little frown upon her lips as she straightened her body. His finger tips brushed the girl’s shoulders as he gently slid the shirt down her shoulder, a gasp eliciting her lips. “Matt.” His eyes fell to her’s through the mirror, momentarily flicking to her hands that pressed to her chest, holding the top up. “Put your damn hands down.”

✍︎︎－Her head tilted with a huff of amusement, but complied, seeing Matt’s jaw go slack as it fell from her now bare chest. “What’s got you in such a mood?” She mused, the males eyes darkening as she sent her boyfriend a flirtatious smile. “Always a brat.” Matt murmured, feeding his bottom lip into his mouth as his eyes took in the sight of her tits, now free of clothing. God, his hand twitched with the temptation of palming over his semi. But he didn’t, he wouldn’t. Not when she was so stressed.

✃－Matt’s hand reached over his own shoulder, seeing his girlfriend’s perfect nose scrunch a bit as he lifted the graphic tee from his own back. “What are you ..” Her voice trailed off, swallow thickly at the sight of Matt’s bare chest as he shook his brown head of hair, the shirt he wore now in his hand.

✍︎︎－The girl’s breath got caught in her throat as he slid a hand around her waist, flattening his warm palm against the skin of her stomach. “I love everything about you,” he murmured softly, her eyes softening as the words lulled from his tongue. “your voice, your lips,” his breath fluttered against the shell of her ear, a mischievous glint in his blue eyes as he nipped at soft skin. “your tits.” Of course. She jokingly rolled her eyes. “Mostly just you though.” Mostly? She thought, inwardly laughing.

✃－She felt her heart pang slightly as his touch left her belly, his two hands straightening out the head of his larger tee shirt. “This should do for now, hm?” She nodded, tipping her head up a little so he could tug the soft fabric over hide head. “What will you wear?” His lips twitched, her muffled voice coming from inside the top as he pulled it over her head. Matt nudged her around to face him, her face scrunched with discomfort as little hairs combed across her eyes and lips. “I’ll grab one from my old room.” He whispered softly, tucking the hairs behind her ears as he observed down at her with a look of adoration.

✍︎︎－Not that the male would ever admit it, but he found himself liking her in this shirt a lot more. It did nothing to showcase her perfect body, the body that despite she criticized often, Matt would remind her that it was just for her. It was a gift that his eyes got to lie upon such a beauty, and god he’d be sinning to say he didn’t thank the lord for allowing him to every damn day. Falling down, the hem hit just mid thigh, covering the denim shorts she wore. Matt saw the glimmer of her beaded bracelet, the small ‘M’ gem taking him back to the day they’d made it.

✃－His little artist, he almost cooed to himself. How did he get so lucky? The moment sun shone through his curtains in the morning, his waking thought was always her. I wonder if she’s awake, maybe I should wake her, god she looks so cute when she’s asleep. Though, not nearly as adorable she was fully woken. That gorgeous smile, the pure beauty and warmth her presence brought to the entire household the minute her lips parted to speak.

✍︎︎－Matt blinked himself from the inner trip up in his own mind, swallowing thickly as he looked down at his girl. “No more ribbon tied tops?” The girl’s lips curved upward at the words, giggling with a bob of the head. “No more ribbon tops.” On her tippy toes, she pressed a chaste kiss to the triplet’s lips, breathing out a soft moan as his one hand slid down to palm at her backside.

♡︎－ Matt smiled while cupping her cheeks, pulling away after seconds while the tip of his nose grazing hers. “My own little piece of art.” Because lord, if she wasn’t painted across every inch of his brain.

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