#will maybe write something about it in fact

[ohbueckers]

THROUGH THE WALLS. paige bueckers

description. teammates who’ve never gotten along. but when you’re stuck sharing a dorm with paige bueckers—and she brings someone new home every night—it’s hard not to feel like the walls are closing in. tired of playing nice, you decide to get under her skin�� in more ways than one.

includes. SMUT & about five scenes of plot building up to it (sorry, they’re not too long). player paige! scissoring, fingering, edging, etc… i’m not even sure anymore lol.

a/n. first one shot since finishing hoaw and i got carried away… (there’s a drought)? also new theme that took me forever to love, and a new writing style because all the lowercase was beginning to pmo.

It starts as it always does.

A different night, a different girl. You couldn’t count on one hand the amount of times you let someone filter through and wanted to tell them they weren’t the only one. You’d think during the season Paige’s amount of one-night stands would decrease… and well, you’d be wrong.

It’s been this way since your transfer. You’ve gotten along just fine with the rest of the team, even clicking quickly with some of them, including one of her best friends, Azzi. But Paige? Paige has been a different story entirely. It was like something about you set her off, though she never outright said it. She didn’t need to. You could feel it.

You told yourself it didn’t matter. That her opinion of you was inconsequential, that you could live perfectly fine without her approval. But the truth was, it gnawed at you. Paige Bueckers wasn’t exactly a hard person to get along with—at least, not from what you’d seen with the others. She was charismatic, charming even. A natural leader.

She gave you nothing at all. You weren’t sure what you’d done to warrant it. Maybe it was something you said during your first practice, or maybe it was just who you were. Whatever the reason, Paige made it clear you weren’t worth her time.

You sat up in your bed, cross-legged under the covers as you flipped through the pages of a book you barely had the time to read anymore. From practices, games, away games, classes you had to take in order to finish your masters degree, the only time you had reserved for yourself—and well, the noises of Paige and her newest toy, were these late nights, alone in your bedroom.

You shuffled, turning to your side as you propped yourself up on your elbow. Your TV wasn’t doing much to hide the fact that Paige seemed to flaunt it, like she knew you were there, in the room just next door, forced to listen to it all.

Then, the door to Paige’s room creaked open. You didn’t have to look up to know it was her, that familiar sound of the latch turning, the soft shuffle of feet as she slipped out with Ms. Girl-Of-The-Week in tow. You kept your eyes trained on the page, trying to lose yourself in the book, but the sounds grew louder.

Muffled laughter that was too loud to not be intentional, and the subtle scruff of sneakers, or maybe slippers that indicated she was probably about to leave. Your fingers froze mid-turn when they stopped right outside your door.

Paige’s voice was unmistakable. Her gruff Minnesota accent that was too close for comfort. You narrowed your eyes toward your locked door. You could almost hear the smirk in her tone as she murmured something, followed by a soft, breathy kiss—almost like they hadn’t been doing just that the entirety of the night. “Are you serious?” you mumbled to yourself.

The sound of lips meeting lingered, and you felt an inexplicable heat rise in your chest—part frustration, part something else you couldn’t quite place.

It didn’t last long. Their footsteps retreated to the front door, and you were left behind in silence. Finally, right?

You forced yourself to go back to the book, but the words didn’t make sense anymore.

“Yo, Nik! Bet you can’t make this shot with your eyes closed!”

“She can barely make it with her eyes open.”

The taunt came from Aaliyah, who was lounging on the bleachers with her sneakers propped up on the rail. Nika immediately took it as a challenge, and you immediately took it as a sign to get out of there before she made everyone stick around until she made it. Post practice was always your favorite. Some of the team had already dispersed to the locker room showers, claiming that the gym was too hot and humid to linger around any longer, and well, you couldn’t blame them. Your shirt was sticking to your back, sweat making every movement feel like a little more effort than it should.

“Don’t miss,” Azzi called out from next to you.

“We’re gonna be here all day,” you muttered, dodging a hit from a jaw-gaped Azzi who fully believes Nika is capable. You giggle, moving to the far end of the bleachers where you’d placed your stuff at the start of practice, grabbing a sweat towel and wiping your forehead.

From the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of Paige. She was off the court now, towel draped around her neck, eyes scanning the gym. It didn’t take long for her to lock onto something—or rather, someone.

Her latest fling, you’re sure. She waltzed into the gym, holding a neatly folded item of clothing you’re sure is a pathetic excuse to be here right now. She’s pretty, you’ll admit. Her braids are pulled into a style that frames her face perfectly, and her jeans hug her figure like they were tailored just for her. There wasn’t anything bad you could say about her, but every fiber of your being wanted to find something. A flaw, maybe. Her blush blended too high up on her cheeks, her jacket too fluffy to be flattering.

You figured you were just as pathetic.

You tore your eyes away as Paige greeted her, pulling her in close, thanking her for returning something she definitely didn’t need—at least not now. You looked back just in time to miss all the casual flirtation, but to catch the way Paige’s body shifted ever so slightly as the girl leaned in to kiss her on the mouth, lips landing on her cheek.

You froze.

Paige’s eyes darted away from her lips, pulling back just enough to avoid the kiss. It was subtle for anyone but you, calculated, and as clear as day. It wasn’t an accident. It wasn’t a misstep. She had actively dodged it.

Your pulse quickened, your breath catching in your throat. You wanted to look away, to pretend it didn’t bother you, but you couldn’t. Your eyes stayed locked on them as Paige smiled awkwardly, forcing her attention to the rest of the gym while the girl turned to walk out.

And just like that, it hit you: Paige was playing a game.

The kiss she’d given so easily last night was suddenly too much for her to do in front of you.

It had become a habit now, even though you hated yourself for it.

The faint giggles filtering through the door stopped you in your tracks as you walked past Paige’s room that night. Another one. That was obvious. You couldn’t place her laugh, though—higher-pitched than the last girl’s, breathier, maybe. Your feet hesitated, the rational part of your brain screaming at you to keep walking, but you didn’t listen. Instead, you found yourself leaning closer, pressing your ear to the wood.

You told yourself it was because you wanted to confirm just how much of a nuisance Paige was being this time. Not because you were curious, not because your stomach churned at the thought of what was happening behind that door.

Muffled voices floated through. Then came Paige’s husk of a laugh, accompanied by a whispered, “You really gon’ make me work for it, huh?”

You clenched your jaw, heat prickling up your neck. It wasn’t like you didn’t know this was Paige’s routine—find someone, bring them back, make it loud enough that you couldn’t not hear it—but something about hearing her voice in such a vulnerable state, made something twist uncomfortably in your chest.

You didn’t stay long. As soon as the low giggles morphed into something else, you yanked yourself away, retreating back to your own room and shutting the door harder than necessary.

Still, when Paige emerged the next morning, looking annoyingly satisfied and not even bothering to throw a shirt over her sports bra, your simmering irritation boiled over.

Her blonde hair was tied back messily into a bun, strands sticking out in a way that only added to her maddening confidence. Her toned arms gleamed faintly from her post-shower routine, and her smirk was the cherry on top, like she knew exactly how much she was testing your patience.

“You ever think about being considerate for once?” you snapped as she walked past your leaning figure against the kitchen counter, staring daggers at her.

Paige faced away from you, opening the fridge lazily as she searched it. “Jealous?’”

You scoffed, tilting your head. “Hardly.”

Paige turned around, a half-empty bottle of orange juice in her hand, smirk spreading as she kicked back against the fridge. “Hardly,” she repeated, giving you a once-over.

“What?” You clenched your jaw, watching as she tipped the liquid back slowly. “You could at least pretend to feel bad about being the most obnoxious roommate ever.”

“Obnoxious?” she repeated again, and you were getting real sick of it. Paige raised an eyebrow, lowering the bottle and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “You really that mad about it? Or is there somethin’ else goin’ on?”

Got me there, you thought. You squinted instead. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Too late,” she quipped, her grin widening as she kicked off the fridge and took a slow step toward you, the bottle dangling from her hand. “You’re funny when you’re mad, y’know that?” she said, voice low and teasing. “Almost cute.”

You pretended to not be moved by her comment. Paige had never been remotely flirty with you. You were even sure she waited for you to leave the kitchen before making her move in the mornings just so you didn’t have to cross paths sometimes. You crossed your arms. “Almost cute is what you call those girls you sneak in here, right?”

Her smirk didn’t falter. “Well, it’s not really sneakin’ if you know about it.”

You narrowed your eyes, her own blue hues almost pinning you in place. She wasn’t just looking at you—she was studying you, daring you to react. The air suddenly felt thicker. It had definitely shifted, enough for you both to realize but not enough for either of you to move, and for a moment, you couldn’t look away.

But then you did, tearing your eyes from hers and taking a step forward, shoving lightly at her chest. “The bottle’s yours now, by the way,” you mumbled, rounding the island.

Paige barely budged—and neither did her smirk as she spun her body around just to see you leave. “Good thing I was finna finish it!” she called out for the last word.

By the third night, you’d had enough. The muffled sounds of Paige’s latest conquest had become a recurring soundtrack to your evenings, grating on your nerves until you could barely stand to be in your own space. It wasn’t just the noise—it was the principle of it, the blatant disregard for you, the unspoken challenge in the way she paraded each new girl in and out of your shared apartment.

You weren’t sure what her problem was, but if she thought she could push you out, she was wrong.

So tonight, you decided to flip the script.

You heard the front door open, the familiar sound of keys jingling as Paige stepped inside. She hadn’t even known you’d invited anyone over until she’d stepped into the apartment, tossing her bag down by the door and catching the low chatter of conversation. She froze for half a second. You didn’t bother greeting her. Riley, glancing between the two of you excepting some form of conversation, gave Paige a quick nod of acknowledgment before returning her eyes to you.

The fuck was that? Who the fuck is that? Paige thought.

Riley was good. Riley was great. Riley was undoubtedly a pawn. You’d met her at a mutual friend’s party a few weeks back when you’d drunkenly rambled about how you didn’t do relationships during the season because of your schedule, and while you hadn’t exactly planned on inviting her over, tonight seemed like the perfect night to make a point.

You weren’t doing anything wrong, but the thrill of it still made your stomach flip. Maybe it was the way Riley’s knee brushed yours when she shifted closer, but that couldn’t be right. Or maybe it was the fact that, for once, you were the one in control, and Paige would have to sit with that.

Paige peered over the couch until she could see you. Your legs tucked under you, so casually perfect it made her stomach twist.

You didn’t matter. Not like that.

That’s what she repeated in her head now as she moved further into the apartment, forcing herself into the kitchen instead of retreating straight to her room. She could still hear bits of your conversation. The girl’s voice was deep, smooth, like she knew exactly how to charm you. Paige hated her on principle.

You said something then, your voice dropping into a softer tone that the blonde hadn’t heard in a while—not since that first week you moved in, back when you still tried to be her friend.

She clenched her jaw, biting back the urge to interrupt. Instead, she opened the fridge, pulling out a random bottle of water just to have something to do with her hands. It’s none of your business, Paige told herself, cracking the bottle open. But her mind refused to let it go.

It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen you around other girls before. You were attractive—it wasn’t surprising. But this felt different. This was intentional, intimate.

And Paige hated it.

She walked out of the kitchen without thinking, legs moving until her body was pressed against the back of the couch. “Didn’t know we were hosting tonight,” she announced, her voice deceptively light as she stood tall, taking a sip of her water like this was normal, like she wasn’t purposefully intruding.

You glanced up, catching sight of her, and something flickered across your face—annoyance, maybe. She ignored it.

Your guest glanced at her too, clearly thrown off by her sudden presence. “Uh, hey,” she said, offering a polite smile.

“It’s not your dorm,” you reminded, completely ignoring Riley’s attempt at a well mannered exchange, your tone just as breezy.

Paige smiled. She fucking smiled and you wanted to wipe it off her stupidly perfect face. “Yeah, but you know how I feel ‘bout strangers. Y’all good in here?”

“Fine,” you responded.

“Nice,” she said, dragging the word out in a way that made your skin crawl. “Hope I’m not interrupting nothing.”

“You’re not,” you said quickly.

“Cool,” Paige said, pushing off the couch with another version of that smile that was so evidently fake. “Don’t mind me.”

She walked past the two of you, heading toward her room, but not before throwing one last glance over her shoulder.

Riley had left with nothing more than a kiss on the cheek. You told her you didn’t know Paige would be home tonight, offering a quick apology. She seemed to buy it, flashing you a smile before slipping out of the door and into the hall. As the door clicked shut behind her, you couldn’t shake the feeling of Paige’s eyes burning into your back, though you’d pretended to ignore her presence the entire time.

But as soon as Riley was out of sight, it was like a switch flipped. You were done pretending. Done letting Paige walk all over you in your own apartment. Done losing sleep over it.

Without knocking, you walked straight into her room. Her back was facing you, and she hadn’t even moved when you waltzed in, lounging on her bed, scrolling through her phone, as if you hadn’t just spent the last hour biting your tongue and pretending to not be frustrated.

“Can we talk?” you asked, standing close to the doorframe with your arms crossed. The fury in your voice wasn’t hard to catch, and it wasn’t exactly a question. You were going to talk.

Paige glanced over shoulder—amused—clicking her phone off. You tried not to stare at the tone of her back, the buff of her arms… you had other things to worry about. “You’re mad,” she stated matter-of-factly, huffing as she fixed herself at the edge of her bed.

“You think?” you snapped, pushing away from the doorframe and advancing into the room, beginning to pace. “Do you even think about anyone else for five seconds? Or is this whole apartment just your playground?”

Her head tilted, blonde hair falling across her face as she looked thoroughly unimpressed to say the least. “What’re you talkin’ about now?” she drawled, and you rolled your eyes back to the gates of hell.

“You’re really gonna sit there and act clueless? You drove her away, Paige.”

“So?”

“So?” you repeated, incredulous. “You don’t see the problem with that?”

Paige shrugged, her hands clasped together in her lap. “If she left that easy, maybe she wasn’t worth your time.”

You stopped pacing, turning to face her fully. “What’s your problem with me having someone over? You’ve had your share of… company.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, her smirk faltering for the first time. “That’s different.”

“How?” you pressed, taking a step closer.

Her jaw tightened, and she suddenly couldn’t look at you. “Just is.”

“For once, I wasn’t here listening to your—” You broke off, gesturing vaguely but pointedly toward her bed. “But you still had to make it about you.”

Paige stretched, and you forced your eyes away from the taut lines of her flexed abdomen. She smirked like she knew you’d looked anyway. “Aight, can we not … argue?”

You squinted. “We’re not arguing.”

Paige snorted, clearly unconvinced, as she pushed herself off the bed and stood. “Just go, bro,” she muttered, dismissing you with a wave of her hand as she moved past you toward the door.

You didn’t move, way too stubborn for your own good. “I’m not leaving until you answer my question.”

Paige paused, and there was a shift in her stance that you could read better than the expression on her face. She didn’t say anything at first, her fingers brushing lightly over her jaw, the movement so preconceived, almost like she was trying to distract herself from whatever had been building between the two of you. “You’re really gonna make me say it, huh?”

You didn’t steer away from her, in fact, you leaned into it. It was ridiculous how easy she could shut you up.

“Oh.”

You let the word sit in the air, almost a whisper, barely a sound, but it hit both of you in the gut.

The realization was slow, but clear. You didn’t need her to spell it out. She couldn’t just fuck and forget with you, not like she did with the others. This was something different, something that scared her—something that scared you, too.

Oh.

You stared into her blue irises, and suddenly the few inches she had on you was more evident than it had ever been before. Your cheeks were slightly smushed between the largeness of her hand, and you could almost hear her heart beating in her chest.

You’re close. Too close.

“Yeah,” she finally muttered. “That’s what I thought.” With that, she shoved you away, rough enough to make you feel it.

You didn’t know what to say, so you’d stupidly responded with a two letter word that Paige thought she understood, thought she knew the meaning behind. You didn’t know what to say, so you put your lips to better use.

You moved before she could stop you, your mouth crashing against hers, urgent, desperate, full of everything you’d been fighting. There was nothing careful about it, nothing controlled. It was just instinct—a pull between you that neither of you could avoid anymore.

For a moment, Paige buffered. Her hands hovered over your hips as your lips moved in perfect sync. You could feel her hesitation, debating whether to push you away or pull you closer.

You leaned more into her, pressing your body against hers, and with a subtle shift, you guided one of her hands into your side, urging her to touch you, and it was all the confirmation she needed that this was real.

It was sloppy in all the right ways, hands roaming everywhere between fabric that got in the way of warm skin. Paige groaned softly against your mouth, holding you up by the small of your back as she pushed the door shut, the soft thud of it almost drowned out by the sound of your breathing.

She backs you onto her bed until you’ve fallen, giving your lips a break for the first time within your haze. You’re hastily removing your shirt as she climbs over you.

“Shit. Are we gonna regret this?” you question fully breathless, letting your tee slide off your arms. Your legs parted instinctively, and she fit herself between them, leaning down to get a taste of you.

“You think ima’ regret fuckin’ you?” she asks straightforwardly, so muffled against your neck that she’s nipping and sucking at you almost don’t hear it. You screw your eyes shut, trailing a manicured hand down her abs, fingers brushing the ridges of her muscles. “No, I—didn’t mean it like that—“

“Aight, then,” she cuts, fully disbanding the conversation while licking over a fresh hickey. She pushes you onto your side, tugging your shorts down in nearly the same movement. You have no time to protest, and you don’t exactly want to either. Paige drags two of her fingers over your clothed cunt, parting her lips to let out a breath in admiration. “I got you this wet?” she whispers.

“All you.”

She pushes your panties to the side, sliding a finger between your wet folds. You whimper, shifting to spread wide open for her, but she holds you firmly folded in place by your waist. “Like you just like this. Say it again for me?”

Her finger drags through increasingly slow—up and down—like a petty reminder she’s in control. “All you, Paige. Only you. Only ever you,” you admit in a hurried ramble, yelping as she slips two digits into you.

“Only ever me, huh? Y’sure you not just sayin’ that?” she teases, tugging her lip between her teeth as she watches her fingers disappear. Your head lolls to the side, your breath coming short, hardly able to muster up a response for her.

Her opposite hand makes its way to your face, bringing you right back, and she uses her thumb to trail down and over your bottom lip, your saliva dragging across your chin so filthily you have to remind yourself she’s a pro at this. You can’t stand to think about the other girls. “Paige—mfmm—fuck,” you let out, the squelching enough to make you feel her deeper.

You swallow as she gazes down at you, her mouth finding yours in another heated kiss as she works you up. She sloppily trails over to your neck again, distracting you with a bite that she quickly soothes with her tongue. “You’re s’good,” you praise, fingers knitting through her hair that falls in waves over her shoulders.

Your hands find her abdomen again, a place you’ve grown obsessed with after seeing in her in about a hundred variations of a sports bra. It’s like she knew it drove you mad. Paige smirked, dragging your hand a little lower. “I’ll let you ride ‘em if you’re good.”

You smile weakly, rolling your eyes. “You’re so full of yourself.”

Paige curls her fingers up, eyes piercing into you intently like she was waiting for that reaction—the one that has your nails digging into her skin. “And you’re so full.” She pulls out and thrusts back in so easily, like her fingers were made to fit.

You’re on the brink of ecstasy, ready to fall completely undone under the girl who knows exactly how to drive you out of your mind. You’re holding onto Paige like she’s the only thing keeping you grounded. “That’s it,” she mumbles, licking her lips as she picks up the pace, her voice smug of pure satisfaction.

You gasp, barely able to form words, but she doesn’t let up, doesn’t give you a second to think. “Say it,” she demands. “Tell me who’s got you like this.”

“Paige,” you breathe, the sound of her name spilling from your lips like a prayer.

She grins, her teeth grazing your neck. “Louder. Let me hear it, baby.”

“Paige!” you moan in half frustration that she wouldn’t just let you have it—your body arching into her—and just like that, she pulls her fingers out, robbing you from your climax.

Your head snaps up. There were a million things you could’ve said, cursed, yelled. But yet your head was still buzzing, and the only two and half words that managed to spill out were a weak, “What the fu—“

She’s climbing off the bed, unperturbed as you move closer to the headboard. Before you can respond, she steps back, slipping out of her joggers and boxers in one quick motion, the fabrics hitting the floor in a careless heap. It’s so smooth—and she’s done it a hundred times before, just never with you.

She’s back on you in an instant, lips dragging over every part of your body. You’re sat up against the wall, peaking over to see yourselves in the mirror facing her bed, her body pressed tightly against yours, her hands everywhere at once. The sight knocks the air out of your lungs.

Oh.

Oh.

In the reflection, you can see just about everything.

Paige’s hands slide lower, gripping your thighs with a force that leaves no room for escape—not that you’d dream of leaving. “Keep looking,” she mutters, practically reading your mind, her breath hot against your collarbone. “Y’wanna see everything, don’t you?”

“Mm, ‘course.” You shiver, her words leaving you no choice but to obey. You’re suddenly no longer upset about not getting to come, every brush of her lips and graze of her fingertips stoking the ache pooling in your stomach.

She shifts, pulling your panties down before positioning herself between your legs. For a second, she locks eyes with you, letting a line of her spit drop and mingle with the wetness of your clits so close together.

What a freak.

Paige wastes no more time, pulling you even closer. The lower halves of your bodies align, and you let out a shuttered breath as your clit nudges hers. It’s overwhelming in all the right ways. “Aw, fuck,” she groans, your wetness meeting in the middle. You drag a hand down her stomach, playing with her pussy just a little, thumb circling over the top.

“So good, P.” You’re flush against the wall, elbows shaking as you let out ragged moans, bucking your hips up to match Paige’s pace. It seems to be working for the two of you, and you don’t think you’ve felt anything so fucking good.

“Ride me so good, fuck,” Paige tips her head back, feeling lost as your nails move higher on her torso. “Been thinkin’ ‘bout this for a minute. Just like I imagined, baby, you know that?” she admits, and it’s enough to make you let out a sound that’s nothing short of pornographic, her name somewhere in the mix.

“Shit,” you dragged out. You drag your hips against her pussy even slower, letting your eyes flutter closed as the pleasure builds in your gut. Her hands tighten on your waist, a sharp inhale giving away the effect you have on her.

“So close, ma, d-on’t slow down,” she mutters—her words a complete run-on, but it only spurs you on.

You savor the pleasure in the midst trying to keep yourself together as every movement pulls a soft gasp from your lips. “Keep goin’ just like that,” Paige breathes, her voice barely above a whisper now, her lips brushing your temple. “Doing so fuckin’ perfect.”

Her words hit you all at once as you press even closer. “I’m s’close.” You know you’re driving her to the edge too, the way her grip on you alternates between grounding and desperate betraying her restraint.

“Right with you,” Paige breathes. You bite your lip, every nerve in your body sparking to life as the pleasure builds to an almost unbearable peak. Your hips stutter against hers, and Paige’s head tilts back, a guttural groan spilling from her lips as she grips you tighter, like you’re the only thing tethering her to the moment.

Everything snaps. The rush of pleasure floods over you, hitting you so hard you can’t help but cry out her name, moans spilling over in a rush. Paige’s grip tightens as she comes undone, her breath hitching as her legs tense beneath you.

You think it’s the hardest you’ve ever came.

As you both ride out the aftermath, there’s not much silence between heaving chests and ragged breaths. Paige is the first to move, tangling herself up next to you.

Her fingers tracing small circles on your back, and you lean into it. You can’t help but chuckle, your breath still unsteady. “So… should I still have to worry about hearing you through the walls?”

Paige looks down at you in adoration, running a hand through your hair, before her hand slips to your chin, pulling you in for a brief kiss.

“Nah, no more of that.”

[jarofstyles]

Pierced

Hi my ducklings! So this is part 2 of Pierced Through The Heart but it can be read as a standalone! I'm sorry it took me so long I've been hella depressed lol. I hope you lover her!

Check out our Patreon for early access and 220+ exclusive writings!

WC- 4.4k

Warnings- mention of needles, piercing is done/described, oral sex

“Alright… So tell me honestly. No bullshit. How badly does this hurt?” Swinging her legs on the bench, she watched her boyfriend gather what he needed for the piercings.

After becoming his official girlfriend- which hadn’t taken very long- she was quick to cash in on her free piercing promise. The first had been a cartilage piercing, but this was definitely a bigger decision.

Her nipples.

Harry looked up from his preparations, a smirk playing on his lips as he saw the hidden nervousness in her eyes. She liked to play tough but he knew how she was. He didn’t tease her about it too much, but he knew. “It really depends. I’ve had a lot of people who say it doesn’t hurt nearly at all, some who say it does, but only a few who have passed out from it. But I’ll make it quick, promise. And afterwards, you’ll have something beautiful to show for it.”

“I mean, I think I’ve got a good pain tolerance.”

The shop was closed for the day, leaving only Harry and Y/N in the place. It was quieter than she would have imagined, only the noise of their chatting and the soft music on the radio in the back. It had been louder when she came to get her cartilage done when she had brought lunch for both of them a few weeks back. “Hey. wait.” Her brow raised. “Have you ever fucked a customer?”

“Well fuck, come right out with it then.” Harry chuckled at the sudden change in topic, looking at her with a raised eyebrow. Her lack of filter was something he did like about her though. “No, love, can’t say I have.” He walked over to where she was sitting on the bench, leaning against the wall next to her.

He reached out and brushes a strand of hair out of her face, his fingers gently tracing along her jawline. “But I have to say, the idea of fucking a customer who sits on this very bench, getting pierced by my hands, is a pretty tempting one.”

Y/N felt her face heat, his blatant flirtation still getting to her and making her feel giddy. Once the confession had been made, he had fallen completely into loverboy mode- with a libido that she heavily enjoyed the benefits of. “Hm.” It pleased her that he hadn’t had anyone here. She would have been jealous… but knowing he was flirting with the idea of doing it with her? That was a welcomed answer. “Maybe if you’re good and be nice to me when you pierce my tits, I’ll consider it.”

He was always oh, so nice to her. He worshipped her, really. It was insane, actually, sometimes making her wonder if her previous lovers actually liked her at all because the way Harry treated her seemed so genuine and second nature and yet so enamored that she was shocked. The smirk on his lips as he placed the sanitized packaging down on the table beside them made her tummy flip.  “Oh, love, I promise I’ll be extra gentle when I pierce those perky little nipples of yours. They’re my favorite too, y’know.”

“Mmm.” She pursed her lips to hold back a. grin. “You better. I’m delicate, you know.”

Harry chuckled lightly, moving away from her ear and looking into her eyes. He raised a hand to cup her chin, gazing at her like she was the only thing he wanted to look at in this whole world. She sorta was. “Alright, delicate flower. Take that top off and let me see those tits.”

Y/N couldn’t help her laugh, shaking her head as she undid the buttons of her shirt. Harry was the professional here, so he had given her the rundown on how it was going to work- including the fact that he couldn’t play with them for a while after to make sure they healed properly. He had mourned that but quickly got over it when he imagined her, audibly, having them pierced. Theh would suit her incredibly well.

“I’m still sad you’ll have to keep your mouth off of them for a while.” She pouted, opening her shirt to expose her breasts to him. “What a shame.”

Harry chuckled as he watched her, finding her cute when she pouted—he wanted to kiss that pout, but could stop himself from doing so. He stared at her bare breasts longingly, nodding at what she had said. "I know, it is a shame. I’ll get back to it soon enough, though."

Reaching out, he gently took one of her nipples between his fingers, giving it a soft pinch before letting go and reaching for the other. He did the same, his thumbs rolling over the sensitive buds as he admired them. "Fuck, they really are perfect. I'm going to love piercing these."

The touch had her squeezing her legs together. While it wasn’t the most pleasant thing to remember that her boyfriend had his hands on plenty other breasts when he had to pierce them, she assumed he wasn’t as liberal with the touching as he was now. “God, that feels nice.” She whispered, letting the shirt fall off her shoulders.

Harry's gaze darkened at the sight of her bare breasts, his eyes flicking up to meet hers. He realized he was getting a little ahead of himself, but he couldn't help it—she was just too captivating. "Yeah?" He smirked at her, letting go of her nipples before reaching up to play with her breasts in their entirety. He lifted them, feeling their weight in his hands, gently massaging with his fingers. He couldn't wait to do the same with the barbells in them.

“H….” Y/N’s voice was scolding but barely so, breathy as she leaned her head back and watched as he held them in his palms. His big fucking hands that felt so good whenever he touched her. “You’re being dirty… I hope you aren’t like this with your paying clients.” She teased.

Letting out a laugh, his thumbs brushing over her nipples as he teased them. "Oh, M’always the most professional with my clients. But with you...I can't help myself." He leaned in closer to whisper in her ear, his breath warm on her skin as he added "You're the only one I can be dirty with, Y/N. The only one I can touch however I want, say whatever I want. And right now, I want to bury my face between your tits and not come up for air."

“D’you think you should?” She whispered. “You know… Cause you’re not gonna be able to for a while while they’re healing… feel kinda bad that your favorite toys are gonna be for looking and no touching.”

 "I do think about it, believe me. I fucking hate that they'll be out of bounds for a while." He nuzzled into her neck, groaning softly as he pressed a kiss to the skin. "But at the same time, I'm fucking thrilled to get to see these beauties every day, even if it means no touching." 

“You are insane.” She widened her thighs for him to stand between her legs. “Luckily, I like it. So I give you permission to suck on them a little bit… one last taste for a bit.”

Harry's eyes lit up, and he didn't waste a moment in moving to comply with her request. He leaned forward, capturing one of the nipples between his lips and sucking gently. He could feel her arching into him, moaning softly as he teased the sensitive flesh.

Y/N let out a soft moan, the cool metal of his tongue piercing brushing against the pebbled nipple. his large hand held her breast in his hand, keeping it where he wanted as she leaned back on her hand, giving him access to her chest. “God, that piercing is the best thing you’ve done to yourself.” His tongue was the best one.

Harry chuckled softly against her skin, switching to the other nipple and giving it the same treatment. He was relishing in this moment, savoring the taste of her on his tongue. "I knew you'd like it." he murmured, his words vibrating through her breast.

Holding it still, giving his tongue free reign to tease the the sensitive skin. He could feel her heart beating faster under his touch, her breath hitching as he played with her. It was so lovely that his pleasure in giving was just as appreciated in receiving.

To Y/N, every movement of Harry's tongue sent sparks shooting directly to her cunt. It was as if every nerve ending in her body was concentrated on the tips of her tits, and the cool metal only heightened the sensation. With gentle yet firm sucks and teasing licks, he had her sensitive nipples hardened and tingling, the sensation making her arch into his face. One hand held the back of his neck, her own head falling back as he switched back to the other nipple.

“Jesus…” She laughed breathlessly as his teeth grazed the swollen skin. “Careful, baby. You’ve still got t’pierce it. Don’t make me too sensitive.”

Harry chuckled against her skin, pulling back slightly. "You think m’new at this? I know my girl’s tits, baby." He said, smirking as he pressed his forehead to hers. "I know just how far to push it." 

“Mhm.” She narrowed her eyes at him, reaching up to wipe some of his spit from the corner of his mouth. It was shocking how dirty he could get, considering how clean every other part of his life was. “Let’s go then. I gave you your time. I want my nipples pierced.”

Adjusting his position, albeit with a slight pout, he reached for the tray of sterilized needles and other equipment to get it all ready. He didn’t forget the main objective. "Yes ma'am, we’ll get right to it." He sighed, playfully saluting her.

It took little time before she had Harry carefully cleaning her nipples with a medicated wipe, making sure every inch of skin was prepped for the piercing. He then applied a small amount of numbing gel to minimize any discomfort, massaging it into her nipples with gentle fingers. He tried to innocently say it was to help it work better but she only had to give him a look before he let it be.

“Alright, darlin’. Gonna be just like how I told you, okay?” Giving her a reassuring smile, he settled in front of her. “S’gonna pinch, but it’ll be over quickly. When I start to do it, let out and breat through your nose.” Harry's hands were steady as he picked up the needle, focusing on her left nipple first. He pinched the skin lightly with a sterile clamp, ensuring that her piercing would be straight and perfect. He then aligned the needle, giving her the instruction to give her exhale before pushing it quickly through her skin.

She winced slightly as the needle pierced her skin, but Harry was right there to soothe her. He quickly attached the short piece of jewelry and moved to her other nipple, repeating the process. This time around, she knew what to expect and took it better than before.

Her agony lasted just a moment, but he didn't feel right about letting her endure pain alone. Once her nipples were pierced and the jewelry sturdily in place, he was thorough, making sure everything was clean and sanitary before removing his gloves and gripping her chin and placing a soft peck to her lips. “You, lovely, took that better than most people I’ve ever pierced.” His words were genuine. Y/N really had taken it better than grown men had.

“Really?” Her eyes had teared up a bit during the process and yeah- it had hurt.. But it was tolerable enough. She could feel it throbbing as the new piercings adjusted, Harry helping her pull her shirt back on. He had taken the liberty to button her top back, making her grin at how second nature it was for him. Harry liked to take care of her in any way, she was finding out more and more each day.

His thumb stroked over her cheek to wipe away a stray tear, letting out a little hum. "Yeah, honestly, you did amazing. I'm proud of you. Fuck, I bet you're a beautiful crier, aren't you?"

Y/N laughed, shaking her head as she caressed his jaw. The beard was growing in and she loved how it felt under her fingers as she ran them over his face. “You tell me everything I do is beautiful. I think you’re biased.”

Harry's heart warmed as she caressed his jaw. He fucking loved the feeling of her fingers against him. It had become second nature now for her to touch as she pleased and he couldn’t get enough of it. He leaned into her touch, nuzzling her hand with his cheek before pulling it down to kiss her knuckles.  "Yeah, m’totally fucking biased, but why the hell wouldn't I be?" He smirked down at her, stilling her hands and placing them both around the back of his neck before stealing another kiss. "I think you're beautiful, amazing, fuckin’ hilarious, smart as hell… sexy.” He smirked, making her scoff. “No, none of that. I mean every word.” Cradling her cheek, he took a moment to look at her before his eyes drifted down to his now covered work on her tits. “And M’more than honored that now a piece of my work is on your body.”

He watched as she looked down at her covered chest, he could tell she was admiring the work even while covered. "How do you feel?" He inquired lightly.

“I’m good.” It wasn’t really a pain now more than a soreness. But what she hadn’t expected was how it had… sort of turned her on. That pain and the reminder of it made her wake in a different way. Sure, they’d fucked around a bit and he had spanked her and stuff, but this sort of pain was different. Add in the fact that he had said in a fuck drunk lusty spiel against her ear the night before that he was horny over being the one to give her the piercing because it would feel like another claim to her, she couldn’t stop thinking about it.

So naturally, it was time to do something about it.

“I think you did a good job… so I think it’s time for your tip.” A mischievous smirk lit up her lips as she slowly slid to the floor from the bench, knees on the tile as she reached for his belt.

"Fuck, baby." Harry couldn't help but groan at her words, his hands finding her hair as she knelt on the floor in front of him. When she began to work on his belt, he felt his cock jerk to attention and he held his breath. “You don’t have t’do that, baby. I… I didn’t do it for you t’suck me.”

“I know.” Her warm hand ran over his cock, feeling it twitch up against her palm. “That’s partially why I wanna.” It was easy work getting his belt off, leaning in and kissing his cock over his jeans. “Is this an acceptable tip?”

Harry's eyes fluttered shut and he leaned back on the counter, his fingers slowly carding through her hair. "Y/N…" he groaned out, his hips moving forward when she mouthed at his erection over the denim. "…yeah, that's an… s’an acceptable tip. Only for you."

Harry's lips parted as he felt her teeth gently skim over the length of his cock through the fabric of his jeans. "Fuck, don’t…" Harry's hands tightened in her hair, his head falling back against the counter as she continued to mouth at his dick through his jeans. "Y/N, stop, please... I don't wanna cum like this. Want your mouth."

“Oh?” Her eyes lit up at how heavily it effected him. “What about this has you all worked up, baby? I’ve barely touched you…”

Harry's breath hitches in his throat as she speaks, his heart racing in his chest. He looks down at her, his eyes filled with a mix of desire and frustration. "It's because you're being so fucking gentle with me." His voice strained as she ran her finger over the waistline of uis jeans. Something about how she treated him, especially when she got that teasing look on her face, got him all riled up.

“Hm… you like me being all gentle, then?” Looking up at him through her lashes, she gently lifted her other hand under his shirt and lightly dragged her nails down his abdomen. “You like when m’nice and sweet to you?”

Harry shuddered at the feeling of her nails scraping against his skin, a low moan rising in his throat. "Fuck, yeah," he gasped out, fingers taking root in her hair. "I love when you're sweet to me… S’nice having such a sweet girl all for me."

“You’re so hot, H.” She grinned, fingers clasping on his button and slowly dragging down his zipper. “I love that you like that about me. Promise I’ll make this good.” his briefs had a wet patch from his cock leaking, her finger tracing over his twitching length. “Wanna be in my mouth?”

Harry's breath hitches as she speaks, his hips jerking forward as her finger traces over his leaking head. "Yes," he whispers, his voice strained. "I want to be in your mouth so fucking bad, m’baby..." He looks down at her, his eyes pleading. "Please, Y/N... just give me somethin’." His hands are tightened slightly in her hair, his body thrumming with need. 

Sharp jaw clenched, his body tensed as she slowly licked along the base of his shaft, lapping up the bead of moisture at the tip. He watches her, his eyes dark with desire, his voice ragged as he mumbled her name again, pulling her further in. Seeing him slightly desperate really did it for her- so she decided to give it to him. Slowly sucking the tip into her mouth, her tongue lapped over the leaking slit before she let herself sink down a little, pulling back with a soft ‘pop’ sound. “Like that?”

Harry groaned, his head falling back as she started to suck on the tip. "Yes, jus’ like that, baby. Suck me right into that perfect mouth.” Her tongue swirled around the head of his cock as she slowly took him in, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked. Seeing her lips stretched around his girth made him throb harder, his eyes nearly rolling back from the sensation. "That's it, sweetheart. Can I give you some more?"

Before she took him in deeper she nodded, letting Harry's hands find their place in her hair. Holding her in place as he started to thrust gently, his cock slid in and out of her mouth with a sinfully wet sound that had him reeling. His breath hitched as he looked down at her, his perfect vision as he watched his cock disappear between those perfect lips over and over.

Y/N looked like a fucking wet dream. Her lips were plump and stretched around his cock, her cheeks hollowing with every suck. Her eyes were half closed as she focused on him, her brows furrowed in concentration as she took him deeper. A string of spittle connected the tip of his cock to her lips for a moment as she pulled back before plunging back down, her nose nuzzling into the groomed thatch of hair on his groin. Her hands gripped his thighs for support, a blush rising on her cheeks as she continued to pleasure him, letting him lead.

When she took him all the way down, Harry threw his head back and let out a low moan. He felt her gag slightly, her lips brushing against his balls as she tried to take every inch of him. "Oh fuck, baby. That feels so fucking good. Knew you could do it. Tha’s my fucking girl." The guttural groan had her whimpering around him, teary eyes opening a little more to look up at him. It was one of her favorite parts about giving head- getting to see his pretty face contorted with pleasure that she was providing. 

Harry's thighs shook a little as she sucked him messily, her tongue working him over with each bob of her head. He felt himself getting closer to the edge, his breath coming in short, quick bursts. "Shit, sweetheart. M’gonna cum soon if you don't stop." Y/N was talented at giving head, better than anyone he had been with, and it was a blessing and a curse. A blessing because… obviously. A curse, because he didn’t last as long as he wanted to. He wanted to savor every bit of it.

Harry felt his balls tightening, signaling that he was about to come. He didn't want it to end so soon, but Y/N was just too good at what she did for him. He pulled her up and kissed her deeply, tasting himself on her lips. "Goddammit, angel."

She moaned as he kissed her, hand falling down to his spot soaked cock and stroking it in her palm. The wet click of her strokes meddled with their kissing, making her even more eager to finish him off. “It’s okay, baby.” She breathed against his mouth. “Don’t care if it’s quick. Just like making you feel good. I love how you feel in my mouth. Can’t get enough of you. Jus’ let me go back and suck you more, want you to finish in my mouth.”

Harry's breathing quickened at her words. "Shit. If you keep talking like that, I'm gonna fucking cum right now." He closed his eyes as she dropped back to her knees. It was only natural as she went back to sucking him, her hand firmly wrapped around the base of his cock as she gave tight strokes.

He really, really couldn't help the groan that escaped his lips as Y/N went back to sucking him. Her tongue worked its magic on his tip before she took him in as deep as she could, swallowing around him to make him hiss. He felt her hand moving in time with her mouth, creating a perfect rhythm.

Harry's eyes rolled back as he felt Y/N's warm lips delve down for a moment, licking over his sac before returning to his cock. He could already tell he wasn't going to last long, the feeling building in his balls. Grabbing onto her already messy hair, he pulled her closer. "Fuck, baby." He could feel his orgasm building, the feeling spreading from his balls and up his shaft. "Ah, fuck, Baby..” he whined, gritting his teeth. “M’gonna cum, keep fuckin’ doing that. My perfect girl, always make me feel so good. Filthy little thing getting on your knees for me after I pierce your tits. God, m’so obsessed with you." He was babbling a bit, but he couldn’t help it. It truly felt so good that he could pass out given the chance. 

Y/N could hear the desperation in Harry's voice, knew he was close. She loved giving him this kind of pleasure, the kind that made him lose it a little bit. Ever since their first time he had no qualms about showing her how much he adored her while she did this, and it only got better with time. As weird as it may seem, she really loved making him feel good, the weight of him in her mouth- but she wanted to finish him. She picked up her pace and used her free hand to fondle his balls.

"Fuuuck..." Harry hissed, his breath hitching as Y/N added that in, making him lose it. It was too much, too fucking much and he loved it. He couldn’t hold back anymore. With a loud moan, he came. It orgasm hit him hard and fast, his cock pulsing against her tongue as he released his load into her warm and waiting mouth. He tried his best to warn her, but he couldn't form words as he rode out his high. Y/N continued to suck him off as he came hard, milking the last of his orgasm out. She swallowed everything, looking up at him with a hum of satisfaction. Harry was utterly spent, and all that could leave his lips was a shaky grunt of her name.

That was the only thing she wanted to hear when he felt good.

Pulling off of him, a string of spit hung between her lips and the tip of his cock as she smiled up at him, utterly pleased with herself. Getting Harry to cum like that was a privilege, one that she was lucky enough to be the only one to do.

Letting out a laugh in disbelief, he grabbed a handful of Y/N's hair and pulled her up to meet his lips in a deep, messy kiss. He tasted himself on her lips and tongue, only adding to his post-orgasm haze. He held her there, kissing her sloppily as he tried to catch his breath. “Fuck me, that was incredible.” He mumbled into the kiss. “Can barely feel my fuckin’ feet.”

“Good.” Her smile was giddy as she pulled back to wipe her mouth, giving him her most innocent smile. “Hope you enjoyed your tip, baby. If I ever find out someone else did the same, I’ll kill them.” She said in an overly sweet tone.

He chuckled, pulling her close again, placing a sweet kiss on her lips. As if he’d ever need anyone else with the way she made him feel. "Only you do it for me, babe."

“Damn right.” She grumbled, pulling back and wiping her mouth. “Now that payment has been approved… I think I need you to feed me actual food, please.”

Still slightly reeling, he hummed, rubbing his hand over his messy hair as he watched her walk off to grab her coat. "Fine, fine. Let's get some food. Can’t let my number one client starve.”

[misayani]

fluff with se-mi? :3

CHERRY-SH MY LOVE ! — SE-MI (PLAYER 380)

◜ pairing ... se-mi / player 380 x  fem reader

◜eversince you started working at Ice Creampies, the famous ice cream parlor downtown, you've seen the same woman everyday. you started to get concerned about her health, won't eating ice cream everyday give you diabetes? 

𔗨 author's note — this is my best attempt in writing something sweet, enjoy ! <3 [lowercase intended]

— fluff 

the first time you saw her was on the second day of your work, july 4th. your lips form into a polite smile as you greeted the woman. you observed her, seeing her wonderful taste in fashion. she wore a black leather jacket with a black tee underneath and some slightly large pants. you also noticed the amount of rings she had on each hand, the black choker around her neck, and of course, the piercings on her pretty face.

she looks similar to that one anime chick. you thought. nana something- osaku? osaki? osaka?

"hi. i would like to get cherry ice cream on a medium sized co—" she cut herself off as she finally locked eyes with you. she probably didn't even hear you greet her earlier since she was too busy patting her pockets.

"hi."

you blinked at her, "hi." you smiled before she opens her mouth and then closes it again. you saw her glance at your name tag then letting out a small cough.

"new here?" 

you pause before answering, "yeah." you thought that maybe she was a regular customer, considering how she caught on to the fact you were a new worker.

"right. um, cherry ice cream on a medium sized cone please." she nods to you as she hands the exact amount for the ice cream before you could even serve it to her— okay maybe i'm right, regular customer. you took the payment from her before you excused yourself to serve her the ice cream.

who in their right minds would be willing to swallow cherry ice cream. eugh. 

you scrunch your face up as you scoop out the cold cream, not being a big fan of cherries. holding the finished scooped ice cream, you walk back to the counter and see the rather attractive woman waiting patiently— elbows rested slightly on the counter with the both of her palms supporting her face.

she notices you come back and you handed her ice cream with a side note of 'enjoy. have a nice day.' she simply nods to acknowldge you before glancing at you one last time, and then walking out the ice cream parlor.

second time she walked in was july 5th. this time, actually greeting you back with a small smile. she ordered the same thing, cherry ice cream, and handed you the payment. minutes later, you came back with her ice cream, keeping it away from you as possible. you couldn't stand the smell of cherry.

your heart flutters as the woman chuckles— "hell, why do you look so disgusted with it" 

you pressed your lips together as you handed her the ice cream, "just not a big fan of cherries."

"why not?"

"they make me dizzy. i mean- the smell at least."

"cherries make you dizzy?" she raises her eyebrows at you while she licks her ice cream. you check her out, today she's wearing a simple long sleeved white polo, with the sleeves cuffed up to her elbows and two buttons undone and some casual denim pants.

"done checking me out?" you snap your gaze back to hers. her lips formed into a smug smile as she licks her lips. 

"wasn't checking you out." you retort. she just chuckles as if she doesn't believe you and started to head to the exit.

she pauses, before turning to the counter, "i didn't mind. thank you for this." she says as she waves the slightly melting ice cream in her hand and then she walks out the parlor, leaving you behind the counter face palming out of embarrassment.

following days passed with her walking in the store and buying the same thing everytime, not noticing the glances and the flirty smiles she was giving you. sometimes she'd tell you some flirty remarks and then always quick to leave the store after.

"you have a boyfriend?" it was your 6th time serving her ice cream. your face heats up at the sudden question as she stares at you waiting for an answer.

soon enough, you'd come up with something a bit bolder than usual. 

"why? wanted to ask me out?" the words slipped from your mouth confidently. her eyes twinkle in amusement as she grins,

"maybe." 

butterflies swarm in your stomach as you feel blood rush to your cheeks. your lips part, hesitating for a moment, before telling her: "i'm not interested in men. so, no." 

she bites her lower lip, a grin threatening to form on her face. you notice her cheeks turn into a light shade of pink before she grabs something from her back pocket then handing it to you. she bites down on her melting ice cream in anticipation, observing your face for any reactions.

it's a folded paper. confused, you accepted it and unfolded the small piece of paper. a smile spreads across your face as you see what's inside: her number and a 'call me sometime;)' written messily under. 

you look up to her, who was staring at you with hopeful eyes. you shoot her a warm smile, nodding before tucking away the note in your jean's pocket. 

"i will." the both of you were staring at each other before her lips finally form into a smile and you couldn't help but giggle like a high-schooler who just got asked out. 

"okay, sometime." she nods while smiling, "sometime." you agree as she makes her way to the exit. "oh your ice cream is melting!" you exclaim, seeing the cherry liquid drip down her fingers. she looks at her hand, surprising herself as if she didn't even noticed— "oh shit, yeah. it's fine, i'll handle it." 

she glances at you one last time before saying, "thank you for this." and then walks out the store leaving you with a more-than-happy feeling inside you.

a few days passed and every single one of them was her visiting the store. she finally told you her name, se-mi—which was funny, her number came first before she even introduced herself to you. but nonetheless, you both started texting each other days ago, either continuing the unfinished conversation from the store earlier or just her being talkative and you rolling your eyes at her antics and smiling dumbly at your phone screen.

july 19th, 18:00. it was the end of your shift, finally, you thought. you greet your co workers goodbye as you walk out the store with an excited expression. 

se-mi had asked to take you out on a date once your shift ended. here you are: wearing a casual dress that ended just above your knees, which you wore throughout your shift, walking down the steps before you were met with se-mi patiently waiting and leaning back on her motorcycle.

good god, how can this woman be more attractive? 

she notices you walking closer towards her as her lips immediately form into a smile. 

"hi." she softly greets

you smile, "hi." you shyly say as you finally reach her. she carefully hands you a helmet as you laugh, taking it from her. she shots you a confused look, "how many girls you asked out before have worn this helmet?" you say while chuckling.

she looks at you as if she was offended before she rolls her eyes playfully, "i just bought that yesterday. and no else will use it but you and only you." she remarks.

you smile, "i'm kidding babe, where are we off to anyways?" you say, wearing the helmet which by the way, smelled amazing. 

she suddenly coughs, you notice the tips of her ears turning pink. she distracts herself, grabbing something from the tote bag she brought. "it- it won't be a secret anymore if i tell you." she cleared her throat before handing a blanket to you.

"wrap that around your waist." 

aw. she cared enough to bring a cover for your dress. 

she hops on her motorcycle before slightly tilting it sidewards so you'd get on easier. she waits as you finish wrapping the blanket around your waist before you hopped on.

"hold on tight, i'm gonna go fast." she warns before the two of you ride off to the night, the wind rushing past and the city lights blurring into streaks of color.

that night, she took you stargazing. the comfortable blanket on the grass, the both of you seated, and two tubs of ice cream for the both of you— cherry flavored for her, and strawberry for you. still, you didn't let her pass, you told se-mi about how you absolutely despised cherries as her laugh surrounds the both of you and into the peaceful surrounding.

<3

@misayani

[ruffboijuliaburnsides]

I think if I'd sent this during a period where I was less clear in communication, it probably would've meant "I can't believe my luck that there is a person like you in the world, I never would've expected it and it delights me. I'm not really into erotica personally so I haven't read your work yet, but I really love the energy you put in the world".

I don't know if that's something like what the asker meant, I know there's a lot of less well-intentioned meanings. So maybe it meant nothing like that.

But I will say Dr. Tingle that I am delighted by the fact a person who is as kind and creative and compassionate is in the world, writing fun quirky erotica and really moving and interesting queer novels.

And I think folks need to be more careful about the messages they send to people they don't know, who can't know precisely what you mean and who probably can't easily or comfortably ask you to explain, so you don't accidentally hurt someone you're trying to compliment.

trotting into the next year, lets try to treat the buckaroos we find to be strange and unique a little less like this. autistic buckaroos do not owe you an explanation for their existence. before you write something like this please consider whether you would say it to someone you met face to face

also would be great to stop approaching queer erotica authors to tell them 'ive never read your books' as if everything they create is actually some massive ironic joke we are both in on. i do not want to CALL OUT buds, you are proving love in your own way, but something to consider this year

[lizziesangel]

could you write a fic where reader is a taylor swift lover and rafe kinda gets annoyed when she talks about her, but one night, after a party, reader’s a little drunk and they get into rafe’s car where she starts blasting ‘lover’ by taylor swift and she literally serenades him blah blah blah taylor then starts to grow on rafe (idk it sounded cuter in my head)

i love this and taylor, ahh. thank you, angel, for your request! <3

you’d been talking about taylor swift nonstop for the past week. it wasn’t your fault—her music was a masterpiece, and you were pretty sure even rafe knew it deep down, though he would never admit it.

the night of topper’s party had been wild. the keg stands, the music, the dancing—everything blurred into a haze of laughter and neon lights. by the time rafe herded you into his car, you were more than a little tipsy, your cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling.

“okay, let’s get you home, angel,” rafe muttered, sliding into the driver’s seat. you leaned your head back, fumbling with your phone to cue up some music.

“wait,” you said, swiping through your playlist with drunken determination. “we need… a vibe.”

“we need silence,” rafe countered, starting the car.

“but it’s our girl taylor—”

“taylor this, taylor that,” rafe muttered as he slid into the driver’s seat after the party. “i’m starting to think you love her more than you love me.”

you were just tipsy enough not to care about his faux annoyance.

“and you love it,” you teased, reaching for your phone to connect to the car’s bluetooth. he groaned but didn’t stop you. a few moments later, the soft opening chords of lover filled the car.

you gasped dramatically, turning to face him. “oh my gosh, baby, this is our song!”

he shook his headwith a grin, “it’s definitely not.”

“no, baby,” you said dreamily, turning to him. “this song… is so us.”

he glanced at you, eyebrow raised. “oh, really?”

you ignored him, singing along as the lyrics began, your voice slightly slurred but heartfelt. by the time you hit the chorus, you were full-on serenading him, hands clasped to your chest like you were performing on stage.

“can i go where you go?” you crooned, leaning closer to him with an exaggerated pout. “can we always be this close forever and ever?”

rafe rolled his eyes but didn’t tell you to stop. in fact, a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he turned his attention back to the road.

by the bridge of the song, you’d managed to coax him into humming along. “see? you’re a swiftie in denial!” you declared triumphantly.

“yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, but there was no heat in his voice. maybe it was the alcohol or the way you lit up when you sang, but something about it made him start to wonder what all the fuss was about.

for a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of you—your slightly off-key singing, your hand in his, and the song weaving a warm cocoon around the car. rafe’s heart did an odd little flip. he’d never admit it, but the way you looked at him in that moment, eyes full of affection and trust, was enough to make him want to pull over and kiss you senseless.

in the weeks that followed, rafe started noticing taylor swift everywhere. at first, it was annoying—you’d hum her songs while making coffee or quote her lyrics during arguments “this is me trying, rafe!”. but gradually, something shifted.

one night, he caught himself humming “cruel summer” in the shower. another time, he turned on the radio in his truck and didn’t immediately switch the station when “you belong with me” came on. it wasn’t until he was alone in his room, scrolling through his phone, that he found himself… adding “lover” to his playlist.

by the time your anniversary rolled around, rafe had a plan. after dinner, he led you to his truck and turned on the stereo. the familiar strums of “lover” filled the air.

your jaw dropped. “no way. is this… are you playing taylor?”

“don’t make it a big thing,” he grumbled, though the corners of his mouth twitched.

you stared at him, eyes wide with amazement. “rafe cameron, are you becoming a swiftie?”

“let’s not get carried away,” he said, pulling you into his arms as the song played. “but maybe… i get it now.”

as you swayed together under the stars, you rested your head against his chest, your heart swelling with joy. taylor swift might not have been rafe’s first love, but you had a feeling she’d earned a permanent spot in his heart—right next to you.

[rensukepie]

𐚁๋࣭⭑ “you say it’s big, but you take it.” ┈─★ n. s

contains : virginity loss, big d!ck nagi :3, size difference, slight tummy bulge, praise, he’s talking you through it A LOTTT, nagi teaches reader how to give a blowjob ^___^!, pussay eating, established relationship, nagi jerking off to you ^3^, pull out, this one’s a little longer than my other works!!, aftercare, dumbification(?), kinda possessive nagi if you squint

you’re scared of losing your virginity, you really are. that is, until you ask nagi to take it from you.

character is aged up!

mdni!!!!! (minors do NOT interact)

a/n : ty @kittenish0 for requesting some nagi smut! happy new years to you as well! i’ve wanted to write him for a while now :3

nsfw under the cut

he was surprised to find out you were a virgin early on in the relationship.

“how could someone so pretty like her be a virgin?” he thought to himself frequently. you were so, so pretty to him.

you were glad that he wasn’t pushing you to have sex like the other people before. he’s so gentle, so patient with you. you wonder how someone like him can handle someone like you—behavior wise.

every time you two kiss, you always have to pull away before it gets too heated. you’re scared of having sex, you really, really are, but you’ve always considered nagi to be the one to take your virginity away from you.

“m’sorry sei…. not ready yet…” you say, face buried into his shoulder along with your arms hung around them.

“it’s okay baby… when you’re ready, you’re ready, right? doesn’t have to be immediately…” he reassures, kissing your cheek.

…. ┈─★ 𐚁๋࣭

it got him so, so fucking hard when you told him that you’re a virgin. the thoughts rushing to his head on how he can teach you how to take his dick, the pretty sounds you’d make, the possible bulge his cock can (will) show in your stomach, everything is rushing to his head.

so after that little restaurant date between the two of you, he goes back home to his apartment and jerks his cock off to every single thought about you, pretending his fist is your pretty, wet cunt taking all of him.

“fffuck— baby… gonna make me cum.. so tight…”

…. ┈─★ 𐚁๋࣭

it’s been a couple of months since the two of you got together. you’ve done so many things together and your friends and his friends combined both think you two are cute together.

you figured it was about time to have sex at this point, so you decide to make your move tonight, but how? you’ve never done something like this before, nor ever felt this way for someone ever.

“you ready for our movie night date? :x”

“mhm! coming over right now sei!”

“can’t wait to see you angel, really missed you”

for some reason, that text he sent made your face so red and flushed! anticipation, maybe?

…. ┈─★ 𐚁๋࣭

you’re currently on his bed, blanket on both of your laps, head on his shoulder as you two watch the movie you both agreed on.

“sei… can i tell you something?”

“hm? go ahead.” he says, reaching for the remote to pause the movie.

“i wanna try it…. want you to be my first time sei…i’ve been thinking about it all week…” you say while grabbing his arm, face flushed in a shade of red.

“are you sure, baby? this is so sudden… don’t wanna hurt you or anything..”

“im sure sei… think m’ready…” you say in that sweet, sweet tone you always have, the one that he hears every time you speak to him.

…┈─★ 𐚁๋࣭

“gonna take it slow for you, ‘kay?” he whispers in your ear, his body hovering over yours on the bed with his knee in between your thigh before kissing your soft, pretty lips, your arms over his shoulders with his hands at your waist.

“s—seishiro…. mm…” you whimper into the kiss as he brushes his knee slightly against your clothed cunt.

“hm? feels good?” he teases, breaking the kiss to start kissing all over your neck and down.

you love the way his lips feel on your body. the way he asks you if it feels good—it’s all too much! and he knows that it’s too much for you with the way your already whimpering on the fact that he’s getting closer to your pretty pussy.

“you’re so pretty… can kiss your body forever, angel.” he murmurs, placing kisses on your inner thighs before he places a kiss right on your cunt that’s still clothed in a pair of lacy panties. “fuck—these are so cute on you, baby…”

he plays with your sensitive bud with his fingers through the wet—soiled fabric, but not for long before he’s asking to take off your panties.

“gonna take these off of you now, that okay with you, pretty?”

“mhm… go ahead sei… please…” you plead desperately to the point where it’s almost embarrassing.

“mm— that’s a good girl..” he says as he takes off your panties slowly, kissing your pussy once more before licking the slit with his skilled tongue along with sucking your sensitive bud. “does it feel good, hm?”

“seishiro—! mmf… fffuckk—!” you moan at the new feeling, gripping at his soft white hair. if you knew it felt so good, you would’ve told him to do this sooner!

you swear that he’s humming into your cunt on purpose to make you squirm around him! he’s moaning saying how good you taste and fuck— it’s having an effect on you. you can feel that your about to cum despite the fact that you don’t even know how it feels to do so.

“s—sei… i think m’gonna cum soon… haah…—“

“yeah? you feel it, angel? cum for me… you’re doing so well.”

you swear that you could see literal stars as your orgasm washed over you. little whimpers of “m’cumming sei… mmf…!” coming out of your mouth.

“mm.. thats it, sweet girl… feel good?”

…┈─★ 𐚁๋࣭

“gonna teach you how to suck my dick now, yeah?” he whispers, kissing your neck before he takes off his sweatpants and boxers, his rock hard cock on display for you.

he knows that his cock isn’t the average size. it’s thick with pre all over his pink tip and it has a little prominent vein and holy shit—it’s making you so wet!

“seishiro… it’s s’big… don’t think i can take all of it…” you say, looking at it with big, curious eyes.

“s’okay baby… don’t need to take all of it..” he says, thumb rubbing your face.

…┈─★ 𐚁๋࣭

“focus on the tip… ‘s sensitive there…” he says, your lips and tongue on his tip tasting his pre. “ahh—shit…! you’re doing so well, angel. so good f’me…” he moans, his hand on your head. “you think you can take a bit more of me, hm? just a little more down?”

“m—mhm… i wanna try it… want to make you feel good too, sei..”

fuck.

it takes everything in him to not plow his big cock into your insides and completely ruin you. but of course, he holds back, it is your first time after all. he doesn’t wanna ruin his pretty girl juuust yet!

“mmf… you’re such a sweet girl, so perfect..” he smiles, thumb rubbing your face once more.

…┈─★ 𐚁๋࣭

“spit on your palm f’me… that way, you can move your fist up and down for the part that you can’t take, ‘kay?”

you spit onto your palm, globs of it falling down. you begin to suck him once more, taking more of his cock into your mouth this time.

he doesn’t expect you to take all of him into his mouth, especially since it’s your first time, but again, it really, really takes everything inside of him to not grip your hair and bob your head up and down on his cock.

you’re doing a lot more then he expected from a virgin. you’ve taken a good amount of him inside of your mouth, using your spit covered fist to jerk off the rest of his cock that couldn’t fit in your mouth.

“fuck—are you sure you’re a virgin, baby? you’re so good at this…haah—such a fast learner, aren’t you?” whimpers coming out of his mouth, the familiar feeling of cumming soon rushing over his body.

“gonna cum soon, angel… ohh shitt—… take it baby, take all of my cum in your mouth… that’s it…”

…┈─★ 𐚁๋࣭

“tell me when you’re ready, okay? gonna take it nice and slow f’you, sweet girl.” he responds, looking at you from underneath, his cock in his hand.

“m—mhm… think m’ready now… you got me so wet sei…”

“she’s so cute when she gets like this…” he thinks, moving his cock back and forth on your folds and slapping his cock onto your clit, teasing you so that he can hear your pretty, soft moans.

“mmf—! stop teasing me seishiro… please…” you pout for a little bit, finally feeling his cock stretch you out for the first time. it burns, but the feeling begins to turn into pleasure.

“fuck, you feel so good, baby…” he murmurs into your neck, thrusting his big cock inside of you slowly. “you alright? does it feel good, hm? want your first time to be perfect..”

“ahh..! s—sei! you’re too big—haah… can feel your cock in my stomach…” you whimper, pulling his hand to the bulge in your stomach that shows each time he thrusts deep inside. “feels sooo good, baby… love your cock so much… mmf—!”

“yeah? you like it, huh? only my cock can make you like this, sweet girl…” he knows you’ve gone dumb on his cock already! only babbling words out of your mouth from what you can hear from your knowledge.

“m—mhm you’re the only one seishiro….gonna cum again soon…” you start rubbing your clit with your fingers, your cunt squeezing itself on his cock as you get closer to the edge.

“mm!— m’cumming again sei…! gonna cum… ahh—!”

right before he’s about to cum, he pulls his cock out of your warm cunt, jerking it off infront of you as his cum goes right onto your stomach.

…┈─★ 𐚁๋࣭

he gets you a fresh pair of his clean clothes after your shower together, leaving a kiss on your cheek when he sees you on the bed.

“you okay, love?” he asks with a gentle tone, water droplets falling from his hair since you both had just gotten out of the shower.

“mhm… it felt really good, sei… thank you… wanna do it again soon…” you giggle softly, holding him tighter into your hug.

“don’t thank me, baby… wanted your first time to be as perfect as possible.” he says, kissing you once more before you both drift off to sleep.

[sunflowerstothesun]

The game of control (18+)

Luigi Mangione x fem!reader smut

SUMMARY : you lose a bet to Luigi and he makes you play a game of chess you can never win.

WARNING: dubcon, noncon, coercion, overstimulation, manipulation, non consensual use of sex toys

a/n: I got inspired by a tumblr ask that was sent to someone else so shoutout to them for the idea and sorry if i ruined it. send me asks if u want me to write anything.

Luigi started with his pawn. e4. That much was always a given. It was his favorite opening move—a subtle declaration of dominance over the game and, by extension, over you. He didn't need to do anything different this time either.

You could predict all his moves, and yet he would still win.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, the anticipation and tension making it hard to concentrate.

"Your turn, sweetheart," Luigi whispered, his voice low and dripping with mockery.

Before you could fully process his words, the sudden buzz of the vibrator began.

A soft, involuntary moan escaped your lips. The sensation was overwhelming, and the embarrassment hit you instantly. You covered your face, wishing you could disappear.

Luigi chuckled, his usual condescending amusement evident. His sharp eyes were fixed on you, observing every reaction like a predator.

"Look at you," he teased, his smirk growing. "Already falling apart. And the game's just started."

This wasn't just about chess; it was about control. He had always wanted to see you like this—squirming, struggling, entirely at his mercy. This was his test, his game.

You forced yourself to focus. Moving your black pawn to c5, you met his gaze, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you crumble.

His smirk widened as he turned off the vibrator. Relief flooded through you, and you exhaled deeply, grateful for a brief reprieve.

Your insides were on fire, and you could feel the wetness through your panties. The fact that your body had such a reaction to something you despised was unbelievable.

Luigi made his next move—a calculated knight to f3. You knew what he was doing, the trap he was setting, but before you could even reach for a piece, he turned on the device again, more intense this time.

A sharp whimper escaped you, and your hands trembled as you tried to steady yourself. You clenched your fists, resisting the urge to touch the source of your torment, but Luigi's large hand quickly caught yours.

“What do you think you're doing?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Please..." you whimpered, your voice trembling.

"Giving up already?" he taunted, the corners of his mouth curving into a cruel smile. His words sparked something in you—rage, defiance, or maybe both.

You reached for the board, determined to prove him wrong, and moved another pawn, opening a path for your queen.

Luigi's eyes gleamed as he leaned closer. He always saw through your strategies before you even committed to them. His next move, a bishop, targeted your queen with ruthless precision.

Your breath hitched as realization dawned. You'd walked straight into his trap.

The vibrator surged again, hitting every nerve, and you gasped, your body trembling uncontrollably. Unable to hold yourself up, you collapsed onto the mattress, burying your face in the sheets. Luigi's hand found its way to your hair, his touch gentle, almost tender, as he stroked your head.

"There, there," he murmured, his voice dripping with honeyed mockery. "You're doing so well, my clever girl."

Tears stung your eyes as the sensation overwhelmed you, every fiber of your being on fire. He had always teased you for your inexperience, for being “a virgin,” and now he used it against you.

"It hurts..." you whimpered despite not wanting to, your voice barely above a whisper.

"I know, sweetheart. But you're handling it beautifully," Luigi said, guiding your gaze back to him.

Desperation flared in your eyes as you pleaded with him silently. He stripped away your shorts, leaving you exposed and vulnerable.

"Good Lord," he muttered, amusement flickering in his voice. "You're soaking wet just from this."

The vibration intensified again, and this time, it was more than you could take. Your body convulsed with the unbearable sensation. You tried not to wail too loudly, but you were sure that's exactly what he was trying to hear—and why he was doing this.

Luigi's hand rested on your waist, his fingers brushing your skin in a maddening contrast to the torment. His fingers rubbed around your abdomen and then near your belly button, knowing it would drive you crazy. He knew everything about you. It was impossible to escape his keen observation.

Luigi’s fingers reached further down, encircling your inner thighs. He poked the vibrator, and your back arched as you moved your hands to stop him. He quickly held them above your head with one hand. Then, he pushed the vibrator inside as far as it would go, observing your reactions as he did.

A loud cry escaped your mouth, and this time, you couldn't stop it.

“I know, my love. It's okay, hush,” his words were sweet—a contrast to his rough grip on your hands.

“I love you, you know that, right?” he whispered, getting close to your face as he softly kissed your cheek.

You held in your squeaks, unable to look him in the eyes, which earned a smile from him.

“Please… stop it… please.” You could only speak so much before your words became incoherent with all the sniffling. You knew he had power over you—physical and emotional—and you hated being so weak.

Perhaps that was the wrong thing to say because he only smirked before increasing the speed to maximum and holding your trembling body steady.

“If you can't handle this, how will you ever take me, sweetheart?” he tilted his head to the side, still gripping your hands with one arm and caging your body with the other.

He rolled up your top and kissed your stomach, leaving trails of kisses everywhere, as if to savor every inch of your skin until every spot was marked with his name.

He rolled the top up even further until it was above your head, making quick work of it as he tied your hands with your own clothes.

His fingers traced the outline of your breasts, while the other hand pressed the nipple bud gently through your bra.

He pushed the rest of the fabric up, leaving you bare. Your body shivered, even in the absence of winter-every fiber of your being was on fire, and the heat was palpable.

The trail of his kisses moved upward,

lingering on your breasts as his fingers softly brushed around, getting closer and closer to the sensitive buds with every touch. The sensation made your back arch as you fought against the restraints, helpless to move.

When his fingers reached the most sensitive spot, he brushed gently before squeezing, leaving you an overstimulated mess beneath him.

He alternated between light touches and firmer ones, covering your mouth whenever he bit you and pressing you down on the mattress as you tried to move. his attention was unyielding, ensuring every part of you was aware of him. When he paused, he leaned in to peck your lips softly, silencing any words that might escape.

His gaze held a mixture of intensity and admiration as he looked at you, studying every detail of your disheveled state as if you were a painting he created.

Tear-streaked cheeks, smeared lipstick, and damp lashes painted a picture he seemed to savor.

"Beautiful," he murmured softly, wiping a tear from your cheek. "Now, name your move, and I'll stop."

You weren't sure if you believed him, but you forced yourself to focus through the haze.

"B-block the queen with the... bishop," you stammered, your voice trembling.

Luigi chuckled low in his throat, a gleam of approval in his eyes. "Impressive," he remarked, turning off the vibrator at last. Relief washed over you, but it was fleeting.

You sagged against the mattress, shaking and trying to catch your breath. Your mind was clouded, but you had survived.

Luigi leaned back, smirking as he savored your exhausted state. "I'm proud of you baby" he murmured, his tone sweet yet laced with something darker.

For a moment, you thought it was over.

"Do you want me to take it out?" he asked, his expression unreadable.

You nodded weakly, too spent to speak.

"Hm." He pretended to contemplate. "Why don't you push it out yourself, love?" He brushed a strand of hair from your face as he made the suggestion, his tone teasing but edged with cruelty.

Your eyes widened in disbelief, but you were too tired to protest. With your hands tied and his mood unpredictable, you knew he could leave you like this all night. The more you cried, the more his control over the situation solidified.

He chuckled, his tone softening. "I'm joking."

"You did so well, my brave girl," he said again, stroking your cheek with a tenderness that felt almost parental, though his intentions were anything but pure.

But then his eyes darkened, his smile taking on a wicked edge.

"But you still lost."

He turned his attention back to the board and, with one swift motion, moved his knight into position.

"Checkmate," he declared.

It was over before it even began.

Your lips parted, trembling as you tried to form words, but no sound came.

"You know what that means, don't you?"

[rafesslxt]

Happy New Year

summary: when your bf JJ doesn‘t give you your new years kiss, Rafe takes matters into his own hands warnings: kind of cheating?, friends telling you you deserve better, kissing, pda notes: thought about this under the shower words: 1,8k

2025 was only 10 minutes away. Hopefully the new year would be better for all of us.

"Oh we need new drinks to clink glasses!" Sarah‘s voices interrupted my thoughs about the last twelve months. "Yeah probably, let‘s get a few for everyone. I‘m gonna gelp you." John B said, wrapping an arm around his girlfriend‘s shoulder.

I looked at JJ and smiled softly at him. "You wanna come too? Gonna help them." He just shook his head and mumbled something under his breath that I didn‘t quite catch, but what I did catch were the reactions from the rest of the group.

That‘s how it‘s going for the last two weeks. JJ was in a bad mood lately and everyone got a taste of it here and there but I did the most.

"Alright.." i sighed and stood up from my seat between him and Kiara who looked at me, her eyes telling me I deserve better. As If she wouldn't tell me everyday. 'JJ is one of my best friends but so are you and you really deserve better than this.'

"You know.. we all love JJ but.." Sarah started as the three of us started to walk towards the bar. "I know. I deserve better and I -" before I could finish my sentence, I bumped into something.. someone.

"What are you doing here?" I heard Sarah‘s voice asking in disgust. My eyes wandered over the body I just crashed into, slowly upwards to the chest, then his neck and jawline. "Like watcha seeing, doll?" The voice sent shivers down my skin but the face put a slight scowl onto mine.

There was alway some kind of friction between me and Rafe but I always chose to push the little tingling in my stomach away when he smirked at me or when I felt his eyes lingering on my legs while walking in the heat of the island.

I always thought it wouldn‘t make any sense. First of all he‘s my best friend's brother and second of all the definition of trouble. And I think I had enough of that this year. Oh, and besides the fact, that he's the 'enemy' how the Pogues like to call him.

I just then noticed his hand on my hip, probably from crashing into me and stoppIng me from falling onto my ass. " Well I would If it wasn‘t for the unmatching character showing through your words." We always did this. Throwing a bait and wait for the other one to bite back.

"Hmm, why‘s that even you have such a sweet mouth, there are only so nasty words coming out of it?"

My cheeks turned red just the slightest bit and I rolled my eyes to conceal the effect his words had on me. "Let‘s go." I murmured to Sarah and John B, letting Rafe stand there with a smug grin on his face and his eyes laying shamelessly on my ass as I walked away.

As we arrived at the bar, we ordered drinks for the whole group. "I'll bring them to your table." One of the bar girls told us while writing down our order and then smiling sweetly at us. "Thanks." Sarah and I answered smiling back, John B giving her a polite nod, then walking back with us to our table. We were seated on a rooftop, right in front of the railing so we could see the fireworks at midnight.

Unaware of anything, Sarah pulled me back before I could walk back outside. I turned my head towards her with a confused look on my face when I saw her giving John B a look that told him to let us be alone. "What's wrong?" I asked her.

"I'm meaning this seriously, y/n. We really love JJ as a friend but as a boyfriend? When we say you deserve better, we mean you are selling yourself off way below your value and yes maybe he's gonna catch himself and get the stick out of his ass but do you really want to wait for that to eventually happen?"

I was taken aback by her words but not because they were cruel or mean but because they were true. I ran a hand through my hair and slightly pulled at my roots, trying to release some stress. "I get it, but what do you want me to do? Break up because he's acting off for two weeks?" She shook her head. "No, maybe don't break up but don't try to do everything right and nicely and just in the right tone so he won't get mad. Show him he can't treat you like that. I mean come on, even my brother is giving you more attention." She twisted her face a little at the end of her speech, looking over my shoulder and seeing her brother looking right back at us like a hawk.

Another deep breath ran through my lungs and back out of my mouth. "Alright, will do that." She smiled at me and took my hand. "Now come on before we miss midnight." I giggled and walked back with her, sitting back down between Kiara and JJ just when the waitress came with our drinks. Everyone smiled at her and thanked her expect JJ.

I rolled my eyes at his behavior, especially since he's always the one who complains about the kooks treating service people like trash. "What's with the eye-roll?" He snapped at me. "What's with your attitude?" I snapped right back, remembering Sarah's words. I didn't want to fight but I also wasn't in the mood to always nod and smile back as soon as he was acting like a bitch.

"Maybe it's just you." I gasped at his words and looked at him with wide eyes. "JJ..come on man." John B sighed and shook his head at his best friend. "What? Maybe it is her. Always complaining and shit. Can't I be in a bad mood sometimes?" I scoffed at his words and had to held back my laughter. "Sometimes? It's been like that for the last two weeks!" "Okay then fuck off If you can't live with it!"

The table went silent and everyone looked at him in shock. Without a word I took my purse and stood up from the couch we sat on. I pushed myself past him and the rest. "Y/n wait.." Sarah rushed but I turned around and looked at her. "No it's okay because indeed I can't live with this shit. I do deserve better. Enjoy midnight, please. I'm just going inside."

I gave her a small smile at the end, meaning it. I didn't want them to follow me. I wanted them to enjoy this moment. I got back inside and down the spiral stairs we came through an hour ago. I pushed through the doors as I crossed the hall, past the security's.

As soon as my heels hit the ground, I took them off and walked down to the beach where all the people responsible for the firework worked on it.

I took a look at my watch and saw new year was only a minute away. I rushed further down the beach, a little bit away from the firework but near enough to enjoy it. I was able to see the rooftop from here, guessing they were able to see me too. "There goes my midnight kiss.." I sighed to myself, looking over the ocean, the waves silently crushing against the shore.

"Depends on who you're hoping for." A deep voice followed my thoughts. My head spun around in surprise. "Rafe?!" There he stood almost right in front of me now. He came closer and looked at me like I was some kind of pray and about to run away. "What are you doing here?" "Could ask you the same. Letting your boyfriend treat you like shit again?"

Then I heard the people from the club screaming the countdown down from 10.

I turned back around, my back towards him. "What do you know." I scoffed, not really asking. Suddenly his voice was right beside my ear and I could feel the warmth radiating off his body onto mine. "I know that I would never treat you like he does. I would read every wish right off your lips, doll."

Before I could answer him he grabbed my hips and spun me back around, my front crushing against his for the second time today with my hands landing on his chest. I looked up into his ocean eyes, feeling myself drowning in them like I do every time I look at them.

"3...2...1... happy new year!"

And out of nowhere, I got my first new year's kiss. My lips crashed against his and while his eyes were closed, mine were ripped open in shock.

His hands wandered over my waist und pulled my body even tighter against his, my hands now slowly gliding over his chest and my eyes falling shut. One of his hands found their way to my face, laying on my right cheek. He cheekily but softly bit my bottom lip, my lips parted with a little gasp. He took his chance and slipped his tongue right into my warm and desperate mouth, groaning when he felt the tip of my tongue on his.

„Fuck..“ he growled, pressing me even harder against him if that was even possible. I moaned right back into his mouth before I pulled away just the slightest bit to lick his bottom lip and softly nibbling on it with my teeth in a teasing way.

It was like I forgot the whole world around me in that exact moment. I didn't remember JJ and me fighting. Damn I didn't even remembered JJ himself for a moment. My fingers grabbed his shirt, the need to feel him as close as possible slowly taking over me.

A little gasp, almost inaudible left his throath, his cheeks heating up just like mine.

We were so into it we didn‘t eve notice the whole group, also including Toppr and Kelce catching up with us after a few minutes. Sarah gasped loudly with big eyes and her jaw almost falling to the sand. "Oh my-" "what the fuck!" I heard JJ screaming.

I opened my eyes but didn‘t pull away. I saw Rafe lifting his arm behind me, not seeing the middle finger he showed JJ but I definetly felt the little smirk against my skin.

"Looks like you didn‘t took your chance.." Kiara giggled, earning a glare from JJ while Kelce and Topper clapped their hands and cheered loudly for Rafe.

Maybe the new year really is going to be a better one than the last one.

taglist: @supernaturaldawning @cardi-bre91 @aegonsslxt @juliet-017 @whyamireadingthis @gxdsfavgal @synicaljah @tiaajosephin

join my taglist!

thank you guys for reading, let me know If you liked it 💌

xoxo sarah <3

[beloveds-embrace]

I love your writing so so much, it brings me so much joy and comfort too!! Sometimes all I need is to think about those strong men protecting me when I need and your work is the the best example I could ask for <333

Do you have any new thoughts on the roommate au?? I am such a sucker for this trope and yours is just aaaaaaaaa fantastic

Thank you sm!! 🫶🏻💕💕 i will always have thoughts about them trust i love them 🙏🏻

Roommate au masterlist

Listen, if you get anxious easily about not turning things off when you leave the apartment and the boys aren’t home, you video it and send it to them, and they adore how you act and look in those clips.

It started as something small- just you filming the stove knobs and unplugged appliances, your voice soft as you narrated each check for the camera. “Oven off. Stove knobs turned off. Coffee maker unplugged. Straightener unplugged and cooled down.” You’d pan the camera slowly, sometimes with shaky hands, capturing every detail just to ease your own nerves and show them that you can, in fact, be trusted.

The first time you sent one, Kyle responded immediately with a thumbs-up emoji and a text that said, “Looks good, love. Don’t worry about a thing.” But what you didn’t realize was how intently he’d stared at the video before replying, noting the way your lip caught between your teeth as you whispered to yourself, your brows furrowed in concentration. He didn’t tell you, but he saved it to his phone, alongside the others that followed.

Price had been the one to gently encourage you to keep sending the videos. He called it a “good habit,” his voice steady and reassuring. “It’s smart of you to double-check. Just send ’em over anytime, sweetheart. We’ll always let you know if it’s all clear.” But even he couldn’t help how warm he felt when he watched them- when he saw your sleepy eyes and bedhead on mornings you had to leave early, or the way you looked in a cozy sweater with your phone angled slightly upward as you held it with both hands.

Simon never said much about the videos, but you could always tell he watched them immediately. He’d text back short replies- ��Checked.” or “You’re good.”- but what you didn’t know was how many times he replayed them. There was something about seeing you move around the kitchen, your voice quiet and trusting, that set him at ease. If he was away, somewhere cold and distant, those clips grounded him. They reminded him what he was protecting, what was waiting for him back home.

Johnny, on the other hand, teased you endlessly the first few times. “Afraid the toaster’s gonna grow legs, bonnie? Or maybe the microwave’s plannin’ world domination?” But the teasing softened quickly, especially when he caught one video where you lingered a little longer than usual, chewing on your lip before whispering, “I think I checked everything. But I’m still worried. Is it okay?” His teasing stopped completely after that. Instead, he started sending voice messages back.

“You’re fine, love. Swear it. Everything’s perfect. But if you need me to check it again later, just say the word.”

And they all noticed the way you fidgeted- how you tugged your sleeves over your hands or adjusted the strap of your bag. They noticed the way you bit back a nervous smile after saying goodbye to the camera, even if it was just to show them one last shot of the locked door.

What you didn’t realize was how much those videos had become part of their routine- how they looked forward to seeing your face and hearing your voice, even if it was just to confirm the stove was off.

Over time, they noticed the changes- the steadier voice, the quick smiles, the trust woven into your words. You started teasing them in the clips, calling Johnny out for double-checking the oven too often or joking that Simon should inspect the locks himself next time.

They replayed those moments more than they’d admit, holding onto your voice during long nights away. And when they finally came home, they saw the difference the way you leaned into them, letting them take care of everything.

[ariiadnes]

ଓ.° ・ sylus. love & deepspace. fluff. reader hates socializing but god help them if they don't get a kiss or something of worth for their efforts !! reader and sylus aren't together ( yet ) in this fic. ଓ.° ・ note : if i had more time i would probably write smth for the other characters but alas ... i suppose sylus will do for now <3. happy new year, may 2025 be kind to us all or i will come after it myself ! tagging @pixelcafe-network

oh, you hate parties. you hate parties. you are very much reminded of why you seldom attend such events, a sigh escaping your lips as you quietly tuck yourself into a corner of the crowded room, the occupants loud, occasionally a little too rambunctious, and all very much filled with high expectations for the upcoming new year.

you don't know why you thought you'd try to be more social for once in your life ( a possible 2025 resolution? maybe. but it's also still 2024, so... jokes on you, you suppose ). you'll blame sylus and his insistence on your presence at this event-- and his lack of one, might you point out. you have no idea where he went, but you can only imagine he's gotten swept up in social obligations.

another sigh, then a glance at your phone. 11:58pm. good. at least you can leave soon, right? nearly midnight, so--

a pause, then a cold realization.

ah, fuck. shit. 2 minutes until midnight and you don't have anyone to kiss. any other year, you wouldn't care-- but god, you made all this effort to drag yourself out of bed, get dressed, and socialize with random strangers-- so yes, you are, in fact, going to make this party worth it.

-- and yes, sylus just happens to return during your time of pseudo-crisis. you will not question how he always knows whenever you need him.

"you--" you point at him, brows furrowed ever so slightly before you gesture him over with utmost urgency. "sylus. come here."

he halts in his steps, glances at you with a familiar nonchalance that quickly twists into quiet amusement as he obeys your command. it's a few seconds before he closes the distance between your bodies-- and it's suddenly so much warmer. huh. you are not going to think too hard about that, you decide.

"gone for a mere five minutes and i come back to this," he begins, just the faintest trace of a smirk on his lips, "look at you, backed up into a corner like the helpless little kitten you are."

"wh--" your brain short circuits and you can only stare at him in shock. you know he doesn't mean it-- he's always doing the most to get you riled up, and while those are most certainly fighting words, you have one minute until midnight, so whatever, you'll swallow your god damn pride. "oh my god. okay. listen, lover boy," you pinch the bridge of your nose, eyes closing for a brief moment before you regain composure, "it is 11:59pm."

he raises a brow.

"well done. would you like a round of applause?"

oh, you are so close to making sure he will not live to see 2025. unfortunately, you like sylus very much. visceral mistake. horrid regret, really.

"no, smartass. i need you to kiss me." you blurt out. oh. that was supposed to come out much more tactfully. "i mean, for midnight. for new years. to celebrate the... new year." you stare at his blank gaze. "...for 2025. please."

you awkwardly clear your throat, watching that familiar mirth appear in deep crimsons. you've always been such an intriguing one, he thinks, ever so amusing and just too cute. while he is a bit surprised at the forward request, he won't deny the satisfaction he feels at hearing it.

he tilts his head just the slightest bit, a trace of curiosity, arrogance, and foreign tenderness on his visage as he closes the little gap between you two. a hand cups your cheek, thumb gently tracing over your bottom lip as he leans closer.

"please?" he hums, deep in thought. "so polite for me, all of a sudden. it's strange."

you can only roll your eyes in response before the guests begin to count down ; the seconds pass-- five, four, three, two, one-- then the sudden arrival of loud cheers and familiar clinks of glass against glass.

and yet he makes no move.

"it's midnight."

he smiles, and you almost wonder if the beat of your heart quickens, the heat that rushes to your face all too overwhelming. that smile is one you rarely see, yet cherish so deeply ; it's not that familiar, smug one-- it's one made of kindness and affection, reserved for you and only you. in a thousand lifetimes, you think you'd know that smile anywhere.

"...it is." he says, words soft spoken. "what's the rush, hm?"

the lessening of proximity, the pounding of the heart against your chest, and the feeling of his lips just barely against yours-- so close, yet still too far. his hand slides down just the slightest bit, gentle as it rests on your neck, thumb resting on your pulse point.

"this won't be our only kiss, you know." the feeling of his lips against yours, reverent and teasing and worshiping one in the same. you are almost sure you can feel him smile into the kiss. "--but you should still savor it, sweetheart."

[buttercandy16]

Consequences to your Actions

PAIRING(s): Agatha Harkness x Reader, Rio Vidal x Reader

SUMMARY: A woman, betrayed by her wife, embarks on an affair with her boss, Agatha Harkness. Agatha's control leads to a divorce, but when the truth emerges, it’s too late—Agatha will do anything to keep her.

WARNING(s): Infidelity, Manipulation, Obsession, Implied Stalking, Betrayal, Deception, Abuse, Control, Gaslighting, Dub-Con, SMUT, and other Dark themes I forgot to mention.

A/N: The itching need to add Rio even if I'm only writing her as a minor character. Enjoy!

You should’ve known something was wrong the moment Rio started coming home late. At first, she had excuses—work meetings that ran over, urgent deadlines at her law firm, impromptu drinks with colleagues. You didn’t think much of it at first; your own work at Harkness Industries was demanding enough, and you weren’t about to begrudge her the same kind of schedule.

But as the weeks went by, the excuses started to feel hollow. She became distant, absent even when she was physically there. When she kissed you, it was fleeting. When she held you, it felt like her arms were a cage keeping something unspoken inside.

And then there was her phone.

It started buzzing at odd hours—late at night, early in the morning. She was quick to silence it, brushing off your questions with tight-lipped explanations. “It’s just work,” she’d say, or, “You know how chaotic things get this time of year.”

You wanted to believe her. God, you needed to believe her. But the unease festered.

Your life began unraveling on a quiet Tuesday evening. You hadn’t expected it—betrayal rarely came with a warning. As you walked into the apartment, exhausted from work, Rio stood in the kitchen, fiddling with her phone. At first, it seemed innocent, just another moment of routine. But when you greeted her, she flinched, quickly locking the device and shoving it into her pocket.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, your voice soft but tinged with curiosity.

“Nothing.” She gave you a nervous smile, brushing past to put the kettle on. “How was work?”

Her attempt to divert the conversation only made you more suspicious. It wasn’t like her to be evasive. Still, you brushed it off. Maybe you were overthinking things.

But the unease didn’t go away. In fact, it worsened as the days passed.

Late one night, unable to sleep, you saw Rio’s phone buzzing on the nightstand. The name flashing on the screen—"Unknown"—was strange enough. Stranger still was the message preview: “Can’t stop thinking about you. Last night…”

You froze, nausea twisting your stomach. Before you could react, Rio stirred, taking the phone in her hand and quickly silencing it.

“What are you doing?” she mumbled, clearly trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably.

“Who is this?” you demanded.

“It’s not what it looks like,” she stammered, her voice shaky. “That’s—she’s just a friend. It’s not like that.”

“A friend?” You couldn’t stop the bitter laugh that escaped you. “Who texts their friends last night was amazing?”

She tried to defend herself, but the damage was done. You didn’t believe her. How could you? A message like that wasn’t innocent. Not when it left a dull ache pounding in your chest every time her phone buzzed. That pain, the uncertainty, stuck with you. It hung in the back of your mind at work, bled into your daily routines, and stole your ability to focus on anything else. You stopped going to bed with her. Stopped sharing your dreams or your fears because you weren’t sure if she deserved them anymore.

The seeds of doubt had taken root, and no amount of reassurance could pull them out.

At work, you found no reprieve. If anything, your performance began to suffer. Tasks that once came easily felt impossible to focus on. Meetings dragged on, your mind wandering to the phone calls and late nights that awaited you at home.

And that’s when Agatha Harkness began to notice you.

You’d always admired her from a distance—the way she commanded attention in every room she entered, the sharp confidence in her stride, the cool authority in her voice. As the CEO of Harkness Industries, she was untouchable, her presence as formidable as the empire she’d built.

The sound of heels clicking against the tiled floor broke your spiral of thoughts.

“[Your Last Name],” Agatha said, her smooth, smoky voice cutting through the hum of the nearly empty office. You jumped slightly, not expecting her presence this late. Looking up, you saw her—impeccably dressed, her charcoal-gray suit tailored to fit her tall, sharp frame. Her silver jewelry gleamed in the pale fluorescent lighting. Her presence dominated the room, her piercing blue eyes narrowed on you.

“Is everything alright?” she asked, though the amusement in her tone betrayed her true intentions. Agatha didn’t ask questions unless she already knew the answers.

“Yes, Ms. Harkness,” you replied stiffly, quickly closing your laptop. “Just catching up on some work.”

She leaned against your desk, clearly not buying it. “You’ve been… off lately,” she said, her voice softening ever so slightly, though her usual smirk stayed in place. “If something’s wrong, you can always come to me, you know.”

You hesitated. There was something unnervingly genuine in her tone, but that wasn’t what threw you off. What unsettled you was the realization that her gaze wasn’t just observing you—it was studying you, drinking in every little tell, every weakness.

“Thanks, but it’s personal,” you muttered, reaching for your bag.

She raised an eyebrow, giving you an indulgent smile. “Personal, huh? Let me guess—relationship trouble?”

You froze, your hands stiffening on the strap of your bag. She tilted her head, and for a moment, her smirk softened into something like sympathy. But even then, her eyes glinted with a hunger you didn’t fully understand.

The question caught you off guard, your heart skipping a beat. “What makes you say that?”

She shrugged, leaning against your desk with an air of casual confidence. “Call it intuition. But if there’s something you want to talk about…” She let the sentence trail off, her piercing blue eyes holding yours for a moment too long.

You shook your head, brushing her off with a polite smile. “Thanks, but I’m fine.”

But Agatha wasn’t one to let things go so easily.

It started innocently enough. After that conversation, Agatha began to invite you out. Sometimes it was coffee before a morning meeting, other times drinks after hours in her office. At first, you felt awkward accepting her invitations. She was your boss, after all. But you were desperate for a distraction from the storm at home—and she always had a way of drawing you in, her words dripping with charisma.

She began offering casual advice or anecdotes from her life. Before you knew it, she wasn’t just a boss—she was a confidante.

You never meant to open up to her about Rio. It happened one particularly draining night when you were both finishing late meetings. Agatha poured you a drink, her glass already half-empty as she leaned back in her leather office chair.

“Darling, what’s eating at you?” she asked casually, swirling the whiskey in her glass. “You look… burdened.”

It was her words—so precise and unnervingly accurate—that broke something in you. “It’s my wife,” you admitted, staring into your glass. “I think she’s cheating on me.”

Agatha didn’t react immediately. She studied you, her expression unreadable. “Cheating?” she repeated, her tone deliberate. “Or do you know it for a fact?”

You hesitated, recounting the texts, the lies, the evasive behavior. Agatha nodded slowly, her lips curving into a faint smirk. “Sounds like you already know the truth,” she said, her voice gentle but firm. “You’re just afraid to admit it.”

Her words hit you harder than you expected. And though you tried to shake it off, Agatha had a way of making the impossible seem logical. She fed into your doubts, her every comment precise and calculated. “She doesn’t deserve you. Not if she could betray you like that.”

Weeks passed, and Agatha grew bolder. She started showing up by your desk during breaks, brushing her hand across yours under the guise of sharing paperwork. She leaned a little too close when she whispered in your ear during meetings, and her compliments shifted from professional to deeply personal.

One night, she invited you to her penthouse.

The space was breathtaking: high ceilings, glittering chandeliers, and an unobstructed view of the city skyline. You felt out of place amidst the luxury, but Agatha made you feel welcome. She poured you wine, teasing you gently about your stiff posture.

“Relax, darling,” she said, her voice low. “This isn’t work. Consider it a treat for all your hard efforts.”

You tried to keep your guard up, but the wine and her proximity eroded your resolve. She was magnetic, her every gesture deliberate and sensual. When she leaned in to brush a strand of hair from your face, you didn’t pull back.

“You know,” Agatha whispered, her lips so close to yours that her breath brushed against your skin, while swirling a glass of Merlot in her other hand, “someone who cheats isn’t worth your time.”

The comment was blunt, almost cruel. You stiffened, staring into your own wineglass. “She says she didn’t cheat,” you said quietly, though even you didn’t sound convinced. “She’s been trying to prove herself, but…”

Agatha clicked her tongue, setting down her glass. Her eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your stomach twist. “But she broke your trust,” she said firmly. “That’s not something you can just fix. Trust isn’t some toy you can glue back together once it’s shattered.”

Her words stung because they echoed the feelings you’d been trying to ignore. And yet, there was a strange comfort in her conviction—in the way she made everything sound so clear-cut when your own thoughts were muddied.

Weeks turned into months, and Agatha grew bolder. She started calling you “darling” in private. Her hand lingered on your lower back when she guided you into her office. She’d brush your hair out of your face under the pretense of being “helpful,” though the look in her eyes told a different story.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t notice. She was beautiful—undeniably so—with an effortless allure that seemed to cloak her every movement. And more than that, she understood you. Agatha didn’t sugarcoat things the way Rio did; she told you what you needed to hear, even if it wasn’t pretty.

The first time it happened, you blamed the wine.

You’d stayed late again in her penthouse. She’d convinced you to let her cook dinner—a surprisingly simple but delicious pasta dish that you ate together at her marble-topped kitchen island. The wine flowed freely, and by the time you were sitting beside her on the couch, your head was spinning.

“You deserve better, you know,” Agatha murmured, her voice low and intimate.

You turned to her, your heart pounding as you realized how close she’d leaned in. “Agatha—”

She cut you off with a kiss, her lips soft but insistent against yours. You froze, your mind racing with a thousand reasons why this was wrong. But when she cupped your face, her thumb brushing against your jaw, reason melted away.

The world seemed to pause in that moment, her lips soft but firm against yours, her hand cradling the back of your neck with possessive ease.

Her kiss deepened, her hand sliding into your hair as she guided you closer. It was overwhelming—the heat of her body against yours, the hunger in her touch, the way she seemed to pour all her intensity into that single act.

When you pulled back, breathless and dazed, she studied you with a small, satisfied smile. “Tell me to stop,” she whispered, her fingers still tangled in your hair.

You didn’t.

“You deserve to be worshipped,” she murmured, her voice husky. Guilt churned in your chest, but as she pulled you closer, kissing you again, it melted into a warmth you hadn’t felt in months.

The affair began in earnest after that night. Agatha was relentless, her touch searing and possessive every time you were alone together. She made you feel things you hadn’t felt in years—desire, adoration, worship.

You knew it was wrong. Every time you returned to Rio, guilt clawed at you, threatening to choke you. But you couldn’t stop. Agatha was a drug, and you were hopelessly addicted.

Her hands were everywhere, tracing the curves of your body as if memorizing every inch of you. Agatha consumed you in ways you hadn’t thought possible, her touch igniting a fire that left you breathless and desperate for more. Her hands were everywhere—pinning you against the cool walls of her penthouse with an intensity that bordered on possessive. Her lips left trails of fire on your skin, her teeth grazing your collarbone as she pulled moans from your throat. She made you feel wanted, consumed, and for the first time in months, alive.

She whispered things in your ear that made your heart race and your cheeks burn, things you’d never heard from Rio.

“You’re mine,” she murmured one night, her voice rough with need as she pinned you against the wall of her penthouse. “No one else gets to touch you like this. No one else deserves you.”

For weeks, you lived a double life.

But the guilt never went away.

“Agatha, I can’t keep doing this,” you said one night, pulling away from her lips with more effort than you thought you could muster. “I feel like I’m drowning in this lie.”

She tilted her head, her fingers brushing against your cheek. “Then come up for air,” she murmured, her voice dripping with reassurance. “You know what you need to do, darling.”

When you still hesitated, her tone sharpened ever so slightly. “She doesn’t love you—not really. If she did, she wouldn’t hurt you like this. She wouldn’t make you feel this… empty.”

Her words were surgical, cutting away your last shreds of resistance. Before you could stop yourself, you found solace in her arms again.

When you tried to end it a second time, Agatha didn’t take it lightly.

“You think you can just walk away?” she said, her voice eerily calm as she cornered you in her office after hours. “After everything?”

Her eyes burned into yours, her intensity both terrifying and magnetic. “I know you feel guilty, but what you have with me? It’s real. It’s worth the risk.”

She leaned in, her lips grazing your ear. “And you want it, don’t you?”

Your heart pounded as her words sank in. She was right. No matter how much you wanted to deny it, you couldn’t stay away.

Eventually, she began to push harder.

“You need to leave her,” Agatha said one night, lying beside you in bed. Her fingertips ghosted along your arm, her lips brushing against your shoulder as she spoke. “She doesn’t deserve you, and we both know it.”

“I don’t know if I can,” you admitted, your voice trembling.

She cupped your face, forcing you to meet her gaze. “Yes, you can. I’ll be here, darling. You don’t need her.”

Her words echoed in your head long after you left her apartment. The divorce papers sat on the kitchen table for weeks before you finally signed them. Rio cried when she found out.

“You’re making a mistake,” she pleaded, clutching your hands. “I didn’t cheat. I swear to you.”

But Agatha’s voice drowned hers out: “She’s lying. She’ll only hurt you again.”

After the divorce, your relationship with Agatha became official. The media marveled at her whirlwind romance with a “mystery employee,” and you found yourself thrust into the public eye —lavish dinners, expensive gifts, and a wedding straight out of a magazine spread. And yet, something felt… off.

Rio didn’t disappear. She called, sent emails, even showed up at your doorstep one day, begging you to listen.

“She’s manipulating you,” Rio said, her voice trembling with desperation. “She planned this. She’s dangerous, and you can’t see it because she’s in your head.”

You slammed the door in her face, brushing away the small seed of doubt her words planted. Agatha loved you—didn’t she? She couldn’t have orchestrated everything.

It was a rainy night when you found the folder. Agatha had left for a business meeting, and in a moment of idle curiosity, you opened the drawer of her desk. Photos of you—some from months ago, others dating back to years before you’d even started working for her. Copies of emails supposedly from Rio, doctored to look incriminating. 

Your stomach dropped as realization dawned.

She’d planned this. All of it. Agatha had orchestrated everything, from planting those damning messages to pulling you closer into her orbit.

“You’ve been busy,” Agatha’s voice startled you. She stood in the doorway of her home office, her eyes unreadable.

“How could you?” you demanded, clutching the folder. “You lied. You manipulated me. You destroyed my life—my marriage—all because you’re obsessed with me?”

Her expression didn’t falter. If anything, she looked amused. “I didn’t destroy your life,” she said calmly, stepping closer. “I saved you.”

“You ruined everything,” you spat, backing away.

She closed the distance between you in an instant, her hand grabbing your wrist in a vice grip. “I gave you everything,” she hissed, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Everything you have is because of me.”

Panic surged through you. “Agatha, you’re scaring me—”

She softened instantly, her hand loosening but not releasing you. “Oh, sweetheart,” she cooed, her voice dripping with mock tenderness. “You don’t need to be scared. I’d never hurt you.”

Her smile turned sharp. “But if you ever try to leave me, I can’t promise things won’t get… messy.”

Agatha’s grip on your wrist tightened, her nails digging into your skin just enough to make you wince. Her lips curled into a predatory smile, her eyes dark with a hunger that sent a shiver down your spine. “You think you can just walk away from me?” she purred, her voice low and dangerous. “After everything I’ve done for you? After everything I’ve given you?”

You tried to pull away, but she was stronger than she looked. Her other hand snaked around your waist, pulling you flush against her body. You could feel the heat of her through the thin fabric of her blouse, the hard press of her breasts against yours. “Agatha, let me go,” you pleaded, your voice trembling.

She laughed, a low, throaty sound that made your stomach twist. “Oh, darling, you don’t really want me to let you go, do you?” she whispered, her lips brushing against your ear. “You’ve always been mine. You just needed a little… persuasion.”

Her hand slid down your back, cupping your ass and squeezing hard. You gasped, your body betraying you as a jolt of heat shot through you. “Stop,” you whispered, but your voice lacked conviction.

Agatha’s lips found yours, her kiss fierce and demanding. She didn’t ask for permission; she took what she wanted, her tongue forcing its way into your mouth. You moaned despite yourself, your body responding to her touch even as your mind screamed at you to push her away.

She broke the kiss, her breath hot against your lips. “You’re mine,” she growled, her hands moving to the buttons of your blouse. “Every inch of you belongs to me.”

You tried to protest, but she silenced you with another kiss, her fingers deftly undoing the buttons and pushing the fabric off your shoulders. Her hands roamed over your bare skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake. “You’re so beautiful,” she murmured, her lips trailing down your neck. “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

Her hands found your breasts, her thumbs brushing over your nipples, making them harden instantly. You gasped, your body arching into her touch. “Agatha,” you moaned, your resolve crumbling.

She smirked, her hands moving to the waistband of your skirt. “That’s it, darling,” she purred, pushing the fabric down your legs. “Let me take care of you.”

You stepped out of your skirt, your body trembling with anticipation. Agatha’s eyes raked over you, her gaze hungry and possessive. “Perfect,” she whispered, her hands sliding down your thighs. “You’re perfect.”

She dropped to her knees, her hands spreading your legs apart. You gasped as her tongue flicked against your clit, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure through you. “Agatha,” you moaned, your hands tangling in her hair.

She didn’t respond, her tongue working its magic as she devoured you. You could feel the heat building inside you, your body responding to her every touch. “Oh god,” you whimpered, your hips bucking against her mouth.

Agatha’s hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as she continued to pleasure you. You could feel yourself getting closer, the tension coiling tighter and tighter. “Come for me, darling,” she murmured, her voice muffled against your skin.

You cried out as the orgasm hit you, your body convulsing with pleasure. Agatha didn’t stop, her tongue lapping at you until you were trembling and weak. She stood up, a satisfied smirk on her lips. “That’s my girl,” she purred, pulling you into a kiss.

You could taste yourself on her lips, the taste of your own arousal on Agatha's lips sent a thrill through you, even as a small part of you recoiled at the intensity of the situation. But Agatha didn't give you time to overthink it. Her hands were on your body again, caressing and claiming every inch of skin as she backed you towards the bed.

You fell onto the plush comforter, Agatha's weight pinning you down a moment later. She straddled your hips, her eyes dark with lust as she looked down at you. "You're mine," she repeated, her voice rough with desire. "Say it."

Your heart pounded in your chest, fear and excitement warring within you. But as Agatha ground her hips against yours, you felt yourself giving in. "I'm yours," you breathed, your voice barely audible.

Agatha smiled, a wicked glint in her eye.

"Louder," she demanded, her hand wrapping around your throat. Not enough to cut off your air, but enough to make you feel owned, possessed.

"I'm yours," you repeated, louder this time.

"I'm yours, Agatha."

Her grip tightened for a brief moment before she released you, her hand trailing down your body to your breasts. She cupped them roughly, her thumbs brushing over your nipples. "Good girl," she purred, leaning down to take one into her mouth.

You arched into her touch, moaning as her tongue swirled around the sensitive bud. Her other hand moved between your legs, fingers teasing your still-sensitive clit. "You're so wet for me," she murmured against your skin. "So responsive."

She continued her ministrations, alternating between your breasts and your core. Your body was on fire, every touch sending sparks of pleasure through you. You were panting, writhing beneath her, desperate for more.

"Please," you whimpered, not even sure what you were begging for. Agatha seemed to understand, though. She withdrew her hand, leaving you bereft for a moment before she shifted her hips.

You felt the head of her strap on press against your entrance, and you gasped.

Agatha was large, larger than anyone you'd been with before. She paused, giving you a moment to adjust. "Breathe," she instructed, her voice calm and soothing despite the hunger in her eyes.

You did as she said, taking a deep breath as she slowly pushed inside you. The stretch was intense, bordering on painful, but it wasn't long before your body relaxed, accommodating her size. She filled you completely, her hips pressed flush against yours.

"Fuck," Agatha groaned, her head falling forward. "You feel incredible."

She gave you a moment to adjust before she began to move. Slowly at first, her hips rolling against yours in a steady rhythm. But as your moans filled the room, she grew bolder, her thrusts becoming harder, faster.

Your hands clawed at her back, your nails digging into her skin as she pounded into you. The pleasure was overwhelming, every stroke of her cock sending shockwaves through your body. You could feel another orgasm building, the tension coiling tighter and tighter in your core.

"Come for me," Agatha growled, her hips snapping against yours. "Come on my cock like the good little slut you are."

Her filthy words pushed you over the edge. You came with a scream, your body convulsing beneath hers. Agatha followed shortly after, watching you come undone was enough for her to find her own release.

She collapsed on top of you, both of you panting and sweat-slicked. For a moment, you lay there in silence, the only sound your ragged breaths filling the room.

But as the haze of pleasure began to dissipate, reality started to set in. Agatha had manipulated you, planned everything from the beginning. She had destroyed your marriage, ruined your life—all for her own twisted desires.

A lump formed in your throat, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. Agatha must have sensed the change in you, because she pulled back, her gaze searching your face.

"Talk to me," she urged, her voice soft but insistent. "What's wrong?"

You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat. You pushed at her chest, trying to make her release you. "Let me go," you whispered, your voice breaking.

Agatha's expression hardened. She didn't move, her body still pinning you to the bed. "No," she said simply, her tone leaving no room for argument. "You're mine now. I won't let you go."

Panic surged through you. You struggled against her, your heart pounding in your chest. "Please," you begged, your voice rising in pitch. "I can't do this. I can't be with you."

Agatha's grip tightened on your wrists, her face inches from yours. "You don't have a choice," she hissed, her eyes flashing with anger. "You're mine, and I always get what I want."

You felt the tears spill over, running down your cheeks and into your hair. You were trapped—trapped by Agatha's obsession, trapped by your own weakness. You had let yourself fall for her manipulations, for the thrill of being wanted so desperately.

Now, there was no escape.

Weeks turned into months, and you fell deeper into Agatha's grasp.

She isolated you from everyone—your friends, your family. If anyone tried to contact you, she intercepted their calls, their messages. She told them you were busy, that you needed space to focus on your new life with her.

And you let her.

Because what choice did you have? Agatha had all the power. She controlled every aspect of your life—where you went, what you did, who you saw. And if you tried to resist, she punished you.

At first, the punishments were subtle—a sharp look, a harsh word. But as time passed, they grew more severe. She would leave you locked in a room for hours, ignoring your pleas and sobs. She would confiscate your phone, your laptop—anything that could connect you to the outside world.

Once, when you tried to sneak out to meet Rio, Agatha found out. She dragged you back home by your hair, slamming you against the wall hard enough to leave bruises.

"You belong to me," she snarled, her face inches from yours. "I won't let you leave me."

That was the day you knew there was no escape. Not really. You were trapped in this gilded cage, a prisoner to Agatha's twisted desires.

And still, part of you craved her touch, her attention. Even as she hurt you, she made you feel alive. She made you believe that everything she did was out of love—that she needed you as much as you needed her.

It was a sick, twisted cycle—one that left you feeling lost, broken, and hopelessly addicted to the woman who had shattered your life.

You knew then that you were trapped. Rio had tried to warn you, but it was too late. Agatha had you in her web, and there was no escaping now.

The city lights glittered below as you stared out the window of her penthouse, feeling more like a prisoner than a partner. Somewhere deep down, you resolved to find a way out. But one look at Agatha’s cold, calculating smile told you that escape would come at a cost you weren’t sure you could pay.

_-_-_

Please don't forger to vote, reblog, and comment.

Happy New Year my Twisted Darlings!

[natsarrownecklacx]

Can you make like...How do you think the avengers would react if they found a Flashdrive witn Y/n modeling pictures... after she forgot in a table

I just did it for Wanda and Natasha cause they’re my favourites (also I do not wanna write for men) 18+ cause Ofc I had to make it smutty

Natasha Romanoff:

- Natasha would be really smug and happy with herself about it.

- The two of you have had this tease / flirty situation going on for ages. Where she basically teases and flirts with you and you just become a big flustered mess.

- She’d be really bold about it too. Taking out her laptop then and there in the compound kitchen and looking through the files. She’s not shy about the fact that she’s enamoured with what she sees. She just can’t wait for you to walk in and find her scrolling endlessly.

- If anyone other than you walks in however, she’s immediately on guard, no one else is allowed to see you that way. She’s extremely possessive and protective.

- When you do eventually stumble upon Natasha looking through your photos, you feel as though you could blink out of existence at any moment (or maybe that’s just what your hoping for.)

- At this point Natasha has had time to think about how these photos were taken and realise someone would have had to have been behind the camera taking those pictures.

- She’d hand you back the flash drive, a smirk on her face but a serious undertone to her voice when she says that next time, you’ll be modelling for her and her alone. Preferably with little to no close on, your mouth between her legs.

Wanda Maximoff:

- Wanda would be incredibly flustered the second she realises what she has in her hand.

- She’d drop the drive immediately, as if just holding it somehow sent of an alarm for everyone in a five mile radius to know what she was holding. She’d quickly leave the room with the drive left unattended.

- She’d go back to her room and try to forget about what she’d found. But wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about what exactly might be on the drive.

- Eventually she’d convince herself that it would be irresponsible to leave something so personal of yours lying around where anyone could find it. (Really she just couldn’t stop thinking about what she could be missing out on.)

- She’d go back to get it, trying to act as discretely as possible and take it to her room where she locked the door and quickly got her laptop up and running to open the files.

- She spends the next few hours scrolling, drooling and sneaking her hand down her pants when it gets to the more revealing pictures.

- When you come back from your two week long mission Wanda can barely look you in the eye.

- It’s not until a few days later when you catch her with her hand in her underwear, moaning your name, looking through the photos that you understand why.

[reginyani]

Midnight Moments | s.reid x fem!reader

summary: rossi host's a new year's eve party at his mansion, where you and Spencer have too much to drink, and end up going home together. this leads from one thing to another, and you somehow end up on top of him.

cw: 18+, mdni, fem!bau!reader, drunk sex, vaginal sex, praise, drunk!reader, drunk!spencer, making out, unprotected sex, dom!reader

wc: 3k

authors note: this honestly is pretty lazy i haven't written smut or any kind of sex fanfiction in SOO long.. im so used to writing fluff, and i'm sorry for this monstrosity. i swear guys I USED TO BE GOOD!! but anyways, i hope you like because even though it's not as good as i wanted it, it took a while!! (reblog if u did!)

gif: reidgif

It was unreasonably warm for a New Year's Eve in Virginia, and the BAU team decided it would be fun to celebrate the holiday of transitioning to the new year at Rossi's sprawling mansion. The living room was lit by twinkling lights from a chandelier, casting a warm glow over the polished furniture. The scent of rich Italian food filled the air, mingling with the sharper tang of champagne. Laughter filled the room, and the unusual lightness of the air was noticeable tonight.

 

It wasn't too often that the team was able to unwind together. In fact, it had been months since they had been able to be in the same place without the stress of a case hanging over their heads. The new year was only a couple of hours away, and for once, nobody there was thinking about the darkness everyone had to face so often.

 

But tonight, you had been thinking about something else, rather... someone else. Spencer Reid sat on one of the plush couch cushions near the fireplace, his legs crossed with a glass of champagne in his hand. His tie was loosened, his hair a bit tousled from the evening's past activities. It had been quite some time since he had allowed himself to truly be 100% indulged in a night like this. His mind was usually full of numbers, equations, random facts, and the weight of the world's problems. But tonight, there was something oddly freeing about him tonight, and you couldn't tell if it was Garcia's laughter in the background or the sense that the world outside didn't exist.

 

Beside him, you took a seat, and you couldn't help but think how undeniably sexy you found him tonight. Maybe it was the loose tie, the way his hair was messier than usual, or maybe the way he was actively engaging in the conversations more than he normally did.

 

After a few moments of quiet conversation with Spencer, a bottle of wine appeared. You both shared laughs over something trivial—maybe the third or fourth joke of the night—but before long, both of your glasses were refilled. You didn't mean to drink so much, and you usually never did, but with the glow of the evening, it felt like such an easy thing to do. Spencer, though, seemed way more relaxed and loose tonight than you'd ever seen him.

 

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" he asks, his voice a bit slurred, but his eyes still sharp.

 

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" you question back, smirking as you raised your glass. The night was still young, and if you knew anything about the people in this room, it was that they could always handle another round of drinks. But you never had Spencer like this, and he never allowed himself to be so vulnerable with drinking alcohol. So were you really sure he could handle another round of drinks?

 

Spencer hesitated, staring at his drink like it was something from a different world. But then, a slow smile formed on his lips. "Well, I guess if we're both doing questionable things tonight, I suppose I could join you." He raises his glass to yours and slowly raises it to his lips. In what felt like seconds, the liquid disappeared.

 

The evening had quickly turned into a haze of laughter, clinking glasses, and everyone telling increasingly exaggerated stories. Spencer and Morgan's ties were long gone, and it was quite clear that everyone the night had reached its peak when Garcia decided to stand on the coffee table and dramatically recite a version of Romeo and Juliet with a very confused Reid forced to play the role of Romeo. At some point, Morgan drunkenly broke into a dance when one of his "favorite club songs" turned on, blasting from the speaker, which he received tons of criticism from Prentiss on. Rossi sat back, watching the spectacle unfold with a smirk on his face.

 

But as the night got older, the energy in the room began to wane. The champagne and wine had clearly done their work, and now basically everyone was drunk out of their minds, groaning in exhaustion. JJ was leaning against Will, slowly nodding off, while Hotch, looking slightly tired, kept checking the time on his phone. It was way past midnight, which meant the new year had already come around, and it wasn't long before the decision was made that it was time to go home.

 

"I think I'll call it a night, everyone," Hotch said, his words slow as he got up from his seat, groaning slightly.

 

"Agreed, get out of my house," Rossi replied, smirking slightly. "I'm getting way too old for this."

 

Morgan, still grinning but very clearly less steady on his feet, clapped a hand on Spencer's shoulder, clearly startling Spencer as he flinched.

 

Spencer blinked a few times, trying to completely focus on Morgan and regain his composure. "Yeah... I just need to make sure I don't forget my keys." He fumbled around in his pockets, very clearly confused about the whereabouts of his keys. "I'll be fine. It's just a very... long walk back to my place." He groans.You laugh at his comment, standing up from the couch and helping him gather some of his things.

 

Garcia was already calling an Uber, the sound of her bubbly voice ordering a ride with Morgan in the background. Clearly, the idea sounded good to Spencer, because soon he was on the app ordering himself one. His hand clutched his phone with an almost desperate intensity, his brows furrowed in concentration.

 

"Do you... need help with that?" you asked, your words just a little slower than usual. You both were beyond drunk, and Spencer's face was flushed, his eyes glassy as he stared at the Uber app.

 

"I've got it," he said, his voice more clipped than normal. "I—uh, do I just... wait, Do I need to set a destination first?"

 

You tried not to laugh, but the sight of him furiously tapping on his phone, trying to figure out how he can summon an Uber, was enough to make you let out a hearty laugh. "Spencer, you've gotten an Uber before, right? You don't need to give them a whole speech on how to get you home," you said as he started to type a long paragraph in the 'extra details' section, basically giving the driver a shorter way to get him home, forgetting they have Google Maps.

 

"Right, of course." His cheeks turned a deeper shade of red as he looked over at you. "Okay, well, it's on the way..."

 

"Good," you lean against the doorframe for support, already starting to feel the warmth of the alcohol take over your body completely and start to cloud your thoughts.

 

"Can I come with you? I don't think me going home alone with an unknown driver this late at night is a great idea," you say to him, saying your words without completely thinking them through at first. Did you seriously just ask if you could spend the night at Spencer's place?

 

"Yeah, sure... that's fine." He answered, leaning against a wall, breathing heavily. Clearly, this was his first time being as drunk as he is now.

 

The Uber arrived soon after, and after saying goodbye to everybody, you both made your way outside, barely noticing the crispness of the air against your skin as you both climbed into the back seat. You settled into the leather seats, and Spencer quickly buckled his seatbelt, though he wasn't quite as smooth with his movements as he usually was. You did the same, your fingers fumbling to find the buckle for a couple of seconds.

 

As the car started to move, a comfortable silence fell between you two, only broken by the faint hum of the engine and the occasional creak of the wheels. The lights from the city blared into the window, making you squint your eyes and turn away from the window.

 

"So..." you smirked as you began to speak quietly. "Do you always drink this much at parties?"

 

Spencer shifted in his seat at the comment. He didn't meet your gaze right away, but after a second, he shrugged. "Not usually. I don't know, I just... for some reason it felt different tonight. I didn't really want to be that guy who spends the whole night hiding in the corner, not enjoying himself."

 

"Well, you sure didn't hide tonight." You teased, your tone a little more playful than intended.

 

He chuckled, and you could tell he was relaxed—more relaxed than you'd seen him in a long time. Maybe ever, actually. It was strange seeing it act so... human. It wasn't often you witnessed that.

 

"I guess I was," he said, his smile a bit lopsided now. "I think I needed that more than I realized."

 

You nod, agreeing with him silently. "You know, you're actually quite fun when you let loose," you said, the feeling of the alcohol kicking in more with each passing second.

 

Spencer's gaze locked with yours for a quick second before he quickly looked away. "Yeah?" His cheeks flash red once again. "I've been told I'm too uptight."

 

"Don't listen to whoever says that," you replied almost too quickly. "You're just being you, and that's a nice trait to have." You faced him fully, your voice lowering as you continued to speak. "But... I do like this side of you."

 

His lips parted, a bit taken aback, but he recovered quickly, a soft laugh escaping him. "Maybe the alcohol is really taking in, but... thanks. I think I might also like this side of me too."

 

You smiled, everything feeling just a bit hazy, but the sincerity in Spencer's voice made your heart skip a beat. Before either of you could continue to speak, the car rolled to a stop in front of Spencer's apartment building.

 

You both thanked the Uber driver, then climbed out of the car. The cool night air hit both your faces, and then you realized just how unsteady you were on your feet. Spencer quickly steadied you, his hands gripping your waist to support you. "You okay?" he asked, his voice suddenly becoming serious again.

 

You nod, blushing heavily at his hand placement. Your thoughts wandered, and he raised an eyebrow, confused by your zoning out. He snapped a finger, and you snapped back to reality. "Yeah, yeah... One step at a time, right?"

 

Spencer smiles, continuing to hold onto you. "One step at a time."

 

Eventually, you both make it to his apartment door, and he's still holding you up, making sure you don't fall.

 

He leans to flick up the light switch, trying to have as minimal movement as possible. When the light hits his face, you observe his features. His cheeks were flushed, his lips plump and parted, and his eyes slightly watery. Your drunken mind was in awe, finding him completely and utterly breathtaking. Why though? You never had before...

 

He looks down at you, smiling a bit before guiding you over to his couch. You both sit down, his legs stretched out in front of him. You kick your heels off, finally feeling the freedom of what felt like bricks taken off your feet.

 

A few minutes go by, the silence becoming unnoticeable. He starts to speak; his words are still slurred but sharp. "You know... I've always found it fascinating how people underestimate the power of silence. Not just the absence of sound, but... the weight of it. Do you ever think about that?"

 

You laugh softly at his words, finding his brain process oddly fascinating. If you were sober, you generally wouldn't be interested in his new weird random topic, but this time you were.

 

"You're drunk, Spencer. You're talking about silence like it's some kind of breathtaking quantum physics thingy." You reply, looking up at him with your eyebrows raised.

 

"It is!" he argues, furrowing his eyebrows. "But you're right. I probably shouldn't try to sound profound when I've had at least, like, 1 glass of champagne and 3 glasses of wine," he says, puffing up his cheeks.

 

You glance up at him again, a warm smile spreading across your face. His eyes, the look a little too soft tonight, and it's driving you nuts, making your heart flutter like crazy.

 

"Don't worry, you're smarter than me regardless. Even when you're drunk out of your mind."

 

Spencer's gaze softens, his eyes locking with yours for a moment that felt like forever. He shifts a bit closer to you, trying not to make it noticeable. But oh... it is.

 

"You think I'm smart? and... not annoying?" He asks, his voice quieter, as if the question had more meaning than it should.

 

"Of course I do. You're literally brilliant." You say it without hesitation, almost like a reflex, and it catches him off guard for a second. But seriously, what kind of question is that? He had an IQ of 187 and could read 20,000 words per minute. He's quite literally a genius.

 

Spencer's lips curl into a smile, and he tilts his head to look at you. He studies your face, with a curious, almost vulnerable look in his eyes.

 

"You know, nobody ever really says that often unless they're teasing me. Sometimes I just wonder if I actually make sense to people, or if I just ramble everyone's ears off." You continue to smile, and for a second, Spencer feels like your eyes are literally twinkling at him.

 

"You ramble. But you make sense. You always do." You reassure him, but the atmosphere starts to feel heavier as you continue to compliment him.

 

He shifts again, and now his body is just a few inches away from yours. You feel the heat radiating off of him, and suddenly you feel hyper-aware of everything happening between you two. His hand brushes against your arm for a second, but he doesn't immediately pull back, his touch lingering. You gulp, his touch sending flutters down your chest.

 

He begins to speak again, but somehow softer than before. How is it even possible? "I'm glad you think that. Not many people allow themselves to tell me that or just think that in general." He pauses for a second, "You mean a lot to me, you know? More than I let on..."

 

After he says this, the air feels thicker, charged with unspoken tension. You look back up at him, meeting his eyes, and this time, the air feels anything but heavy and awkward. Instead, it's full of possibilities.

 

Without thinking first, you lean in just a bit, your breath starting to mingle with his. His eyes flicker down to your lips, then back up to your eyes. He brings his hand up to the side of your face, as if he's waiting for you to make the first move.

 

You whisper, "You mean a lot to me, too." And in one swift motion, his lips meet yours—soft at first. As if something inside of him shifts suddenly, the kiss deepens, the closeness overwhelming you both.

 

You pull away for a second, catching your breath. Spencer lets an overwhelmed whimper slip from his lips, and he looks at you with puppy eyes.

 

This drives you absolutely mad.

 

You lunge for his lips, grabbing his face and pulling him into it deeper. You pull him closer, shifting your body to straddle his lap, your skirt riding up your legs. He whines; feeling your body on top of him makes him feel so vulnerable, and he likes it.

 

You continue to kiss him, skillfully unbuttoning his shirt as you do so. You pull it off his arms, and you pull away from him, pulling off your shirt in one swift motion. You then go in to kiss his collarbone, and that makes him unwillingly gasp. When you start to bite on his skin, that almost makes Spencer scream.

 

The erection in his pants didn't go unnoticed anymore the more horny you got for him, and you start to shift your hips on top of him, feeling it through your underwear. And at this point, your pussy was throbbing.

 

 

"I... I need you..." He mumbles, throwing his head back.

 

"Speak up, baby. You need what?" You tease him. He looks back up at you, feeling defeated as you make him say it again.

 

"I need you!" He whines, and that makes you raise an eyebrow in amusement. You liked seeing him like this. Drunk and overwhelmed with pleasure, messy hair and slick, wet lips.

 

You lift yourself up onto your knees, quickly unzipping his pants and then pulling down his boxers. His hard cock sprung out, pre-cum already coating the tip. You look down at him, smirking as you pull your underwear to the side, your pussy throbbing, begging for touch.

 

You take his cock in hand, stroking it a few times, making him gasp in pleasure. "Ah—Y/N..." He lets out, barely able to form words, just a mess of sounds of please.

 

You smirk, groaning as you guide the tip of his cock to your pussy, rocking your hips back and forth as the tip rubs against you. You moan, throwing your own head back as much as you could.

 

Eventually, you slowly slide his cock into your pussy, slowly starting to bounce up and down. You speed up, and Spencer starts to breathe heavily, you both becoming a moaning mess.

 

He begins to rock his hips with you, "God, you're so perfect like this, Spence." You let out, your voice cracking between words as you try to praise him. Your fingers began to bury in his hair, pulling it slightly as you continued to bounce up and down on his cock.

 

"Y/N... I'm— I'm close..." He whines, holding onto your shoulders as you continue to ride him.

 

"Yes! Please, yes, Spencer... come inside me!" You moan loudly, chasing your high as well. This was enough to completely drive him over the edge.

 

Spencer came hard, his legs shaking as his hips pressed against your skin as he moaned loudly. You press your head into his chest, feeling pleasure take over your body as you also reach the edge, mingling your moans together.

 

Eventually, he pulls out, and you collapse onto the side of his couch, breathing heavily. You look over to the side, where Spencer is still breathing heavily, completely overwhelmed with the whole situation.

 

"Damn, Spencer... you're weak." You say, chuckling as you try to make it less awkward than it already was.

 

"Oh, shut up."

tags:

[motherismotheringggg]

Hi, I really do love your stories and all that you give, I hope you have a fabulous day or evening. But I did have a request where you had Nicholas and maybe Cooper(or the readers' friend male or female) trying to fight for your love idk or something, and it turns into this mess where you all end having a three-way with each other and the reader can't up their mind and just wants both of them. Also, it would be cool if the setting was a 90s luxury vibe. But again, do have a good day, evening or night.✨️

crystal decadence 💎

summary: this lovely anon request; reader is the daughter of a wealthy family in beverly hills and her family is throwing a dinner party. when her mom invites the two guys she’s been seeing to the party, it open the reader’s mind to a world where she can have it all

type: post grad rich female reader x post grad rich nicholas x post grad rich cooper; set in the 90s in beverly hills

warnings/tags: masturbation (f!), face sitting (f! on m!), there’s more world building than anything

author’s note: IM SO SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO DO THIS 😭 little fact about me, i love a period piece!! anything from the 60s - 90s i just ADORE so this was so much fun to write. admittedly there’s more world building than smut but I'll probably do a part 2 and 3 to have individual smuts with both of them - anywho, hope you enjoy!!

word count: ~9783

taglist: @blackynsupremacy ,@emluvsuxo , @hoffmansgirl , @godzillawillsaveus , @purple-1995 , @ilovecheetahchrome , @nicholaslut

💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎💎

The Beverly Hills sun poured in through the boutique’s tall windows, hitting the glossy tile floors with a golden glow that felt almost tangible. The air smelled of fresh leather, high-end perfume, and a faint hint of gardenia from the floral arrangements that flanked the entrance. Rows of designer dresses shimmered like liquid gems, the silk, satin, and sequins catching the light with every slight sway. Each display felt more like a gallery exhibit than a store, each piece deserving of admiration and awe.

You sat in the swivel barrel chair behind your best friend, Dionne, as she twirled in front of an oversized gilded mirror, her chocolate brown curls bouncing in sync with her movements. The mirror’s ornate frame, covered in gold leaf, practically glowed under the natural light. Dionne’s face was scrunched in disapproval as she examined herself from every angle.

“I like this one, but it does nothing for my figure,” she pouted, tilting her head. Her delicate fingers brushed over the fabric of a soft blush-colored wrap dress that, while gorgeous, wasn’t quite up to her standards.

She turned to you for commentary, something that either agreed with her sentiments or changed her mind, but her face was more pouty than hopeful, there was no changing her mind.

“I think you’ll look great no matter what but we can always go see what they have at Guess,” you suggested, giving her a hopeful look with a reassuring smile.

“They just got a new shipment, and you’d look good in literally everything they make.”

Minutes later, the two of you strolled down the sunlit promenade, every step a subtle strut. The sidewalk’s terrazzo design gleamed under your designer heels, and the rhythmic clack of Dionne’s shiny loafers echoed like a soundtrack to your own personal runway show. The air buzzed with the soft hum of luxury cars idling at the curb, their drivers patiently waiting for their impeccably dressed clients to emerge with shopping bags in hand.

The Guess storefront came into view, its iconic black-and-white logo framed by lush green hedges. The moment you stepped inside, the air conditioning hit you with a refreshing burst, carrying the scent of new denim and crisp linen. A sales associate—all sharp cheekbones and impeccable tailoring—approached with a silver tray of champagne flutes.

“Welcome in, ladies,” he said, his smile as polished as his cufflinks. “Champagne?”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Dionne grinned, plucking a glass from the tray with a practiced elegance that could’ve put an heiress to shame. You followed suit, taking a delicate sip. The bubbles fizzed on your tongue, cool and crisp, just indulgent enough to remind you that you were exactly where you belonged.

Dionne darted off toward the dresses, her eyes sharp and focused like a predator stalking prey. You’d seen her shop a million times before, but every outing was its own spectacle—the slow, intentional grazing of fingertips across fabrics, the sharp “no” she’d mutter to anything less than perfect. You were mid-sip when your phone buzzed in your Fendi baguette bag. With a sigh, you fished it out, glancing at the screen.

Mom flashed across the display.

“Hey, Mom,” you said, balancing the champagne flute in one hand while holding the phone to your ear.

“Hi, sweetheart,” her voice was honey-smooth but edged with the brisk efficiency of a woman accustomed to getting things done. “Are you still out shopping?”

“Yes ma’am, I’m at Guess with Dionne. What’s up?”

“Perfect,” she said, her tone lifting like she’d just solved a puzzle. “I need you to pick up a few things for the party tonight. Just some last-minute items. You know how your father gets about everything being 'just right.'”

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips. “Sure, I’ll grab them.”

“Also,” her voice grew lighter, playful even, “I know you always get bored at these dinner parties so I made sure to invite more people your age tonight. I thought you’d like that.”

“Uh-huh,” you hummed, eyes wandering to where Dionne was now holding up a silky champagne-colored slip dress. She held it against herself, giving you an expectant look.

“You know, Michelle’s son Ethan will be there. And Janine’s daughter, Ashley, you two did cotillian classes together in middle school. Oh! And two of those handsome boys you’ve been seeing lately…”

Your attention snapped back to the call. “Who?”

“Cooper and… Nicholas,” she said matter of factly. “I’ve seen them around you a few times and I know their families so I figured you’d appreciate them being here too.”

Your heart did a double beat almost falling out of your chest. Cooper and Nicholas. Cooper AND Nicholas. The two names bounced in your mind like a neon marquee.

“Are you still there, darling?” your mom’s voice pulled you back to reality.

“Yeah..yeah. I’m here,” you said, fighting to sound nonchalant. You glanced at Dionne, who’d lowered the slip dress and was watching you now with raised brows, her curiosity clearly piqued. “I’ll get everything on your list. I gotta go.”

You ended the call and slipped the phone back into your bag with hands that felt just a little too warm. Dionne’s eyes hadn’t left you.

“What was that about?” she asked, suspicion and delight mixing in her tone.

“Cooper and Nicholas are coming to the party tonight,” you muttered, finishing the rest of your champagne in one long, unbothered sip.

Dionne’s eyes went wide, then her grin stretched slow and wicked. “Both of them?”

“Yes.” You placed your empty glass on a nearby counter, grabbing another from the silver tray like it owed you money.

Her face lit up like she’d just been gifted a Birkin bag. “Oh, girl, you’re in trouble.”

She wasn’t wrong. You’d been seeing both of them—flirtations, lingering touches, stolen kisses, heavy petting in the back seat of their respective BMWs fresh off the lot —but nothing official. And now they’d both be at the same party, breathing the same air, under the same glittering chandeliers.

“You know what?” Dionne’s tone had the same decisive finality as a stylist’s finishing touch. “We’re gonna make sure you’re the most stunning thing at that party tonight. If Cooper and Nicholas want to compete, they’re gonna have to fight over a goddess.”

She yanked a sleek black mini-dress off the rack and held it up to you like she’d just discovered a gold mine. The silk fabric draped like molten lava, daring yet elegant.

“This. This is the one,” she said, eyes practically glittering.

You glanced at yourself in the mirror. The dress’s sharp lines and bold color did something to you, something powerful. Your reflection wasn’t just you. It was her. It was the girl who walked into a party and owned it.

————

The driveway to your home was already lined with sleek black sedans and luxury SUVs, a telltale sign that the party prep was well underway. As you stepped inside, the familiar symphony of controlled chaos greeted you. Maids buzzed about, fluffing cushions, arranging floral centerpieces, and wiping already spotless surfaces. The chefs moved with precision in the kitchen, their crisp white uniforms stark against the warmth of the marble countertops as the aroma of hors d’oeuvres drifted through the air.

When you reached the kitchen, you found your parents deep in conversation. The room was immaculate, bathed in the golden glow of a chandelier overhead that refracted light across the glossy marble countertops. The air carried a faint mix of roasted rosemary and aged wine, a scent that instantly evoked a sense of affluence and occasion.

Your father’s voice carried with its usual self-assured timbre, smooth as the leather of his oxblood loafers, a tone he reserved for strategizing. He stood by the kitchen island, one hand loosely gripping a crystal tumbler of scotch.

“This party will show him everything he needs to see,” he declared to your mother, his other hand gesturing with purpose. The sharp lines of his tailored pinstripe suit caught the light as he moved. “Once he sees my connections, he’ll have no choice but to promote me.”

Your mother stood nearby, her posture perfect, the pearls around her neck gleaming like tiny orbs of moonlight. Her nails—painted a classic red—tapped rhythmically against the stem of her wine glass. She listened intently, her expression serene but her eyes sharp, showing just how much this evening meant to her too.

It was your father who noticed you first, his face breaking into a grin that softened the otherwise calculated air about him. “And if all else fails,” he began, a touch of warmth entering his voice, “the fact that my daughter has joined my boss among the ranks of Stanford grads will seal the deal.” He opened his arms wide in invitation.

You stepped forward, letting yourself be enveloped in his cologne—a heady mix of cedarwood and power—before moving to embrace your mother. “You know I’m not a fan of using my education as a bargaining chip,” you teased, your lips curving into a small smile as you pulled back.

Your mother placed a manicured hand on your shoulder, her touch both tender and commanding. “It wouldn’t hurt,” she replied with an indulgent smile, her tone as polished as the sterling silver trays being carried past by staff. Then, her demeanor shifted, her voice taking on that quiet authority you’d grown up respecting. “Now, I need you to look over the seating arrangements before the guests arrive. There’s assigned seating for dinner, and I’d like your eyes on it to make sure it’s perfect.”

“Got it,” you replied, already glancing toward the dining room. From where you stood, you could see the flicker of candlelight bouncing off the long, polished mahogany table.

The place settings were immaculate: fine bone china with intricate gold detailing, crystal water goblets arranged like jewels, and name cards written in calligraphy so precise it could only have been commissioned. The centerpiece—a sprawling arrangement of deep red roses and soft white lilies—sat elegantly beneath another grand chandelier, a testament to your mother’s exacting standards.

“Don’t forget,” your mother added as she lifted her glass to her lips, “your uncle will be sitting next to Mr. Whitmore. Keep their egos balanced, darling.”

With a soft laugh, you nodded, stepping toward the dining room to inspect the scene. The sound of your heels clicking against the marble floor echoed faintly as you moved, the weight of the evening settling on your shoulders.

The dining room greeted you with the soft glow of candlelight, casting a golden hue over the sprawling mahogany table. The pristine white tablecloth looked almost too perfect to touch, and every detail, from the gold-embossed place settings to the hand-folded linen napkins, screamed elegance. The centerpiece—a lush arrangement of red roses and white lilies—stretched nearly the length of the table, its fragrance subtle but ever-present.

You ran your fingers lightly over the place cards, each bearing names written in delicate calligraphy. You knew your mother well enough to expect near-perfection, but there was always room for a few tweaks, and this was your chance to ensure things aligned with your vision. As your eyes scanned the arrangement, you found your name near the middle of the table, right next to Jason Mitchell, one of your mom’s friend’s sons. An Ivy League basketball player, Jason was pleasant enough, but you couldn’t imagine a night of forced small talk with him.

Just across the table, you spotted Dionne’s name. A smile tugged at your lips—at least your mother had the sense to seat her close. But across the table wasn’t close enough. You quickly slipped Jason’s card out of its holder and replaced it with your own, moving him to the other side. That was better. You and Dionne would have the whole evening to share knowing looks, inside jokes, and quiet commentary about the spectacle unfolding around you.

Satisfied, you continued down the table. Your mother’s place was naturally toward the head, right next to Nicholas Whitmore, a family acquaintance who always managed to dominate the conversation. A few seats down from them, you spotted another familiar name: Cooper. You paused, fingers hovering over his card. Something about seeing his name there sent a jolt of nervous energy through you.

For a moment, you hesitated, chewing lightly on your lip. Cooper was already close enough, but a small part of you—the part that couldn’t resist the chance to tilt the night in your favor—wanted to shake things up. You plucked Cooper’s card from its spot and swapped it with the one next to Dionne, biting back a grin as you imagined her teasing you later. And then, almost without thinking, you reached for Nicholas’s card.

Sliding it into place beside yours, you felt a rush of something you couldn’t quite name—excitement, nerves, or maybe a bit of both. You stared at the new arrangement for a moment, the butterflies in your stomach stirring. Should you change it back? This has the potential to blow up in your face.

Before you could second-guess yourself, you turned on your heel, grabbing a small bowl of fruit from the sideboard on your way out. The quiet clink of your heels against the marble was drowned out by the pounding of your heartbeat as you hurried upstairs.

Your bedroom awaited, a sanctuary fit for a young socialite. The space was expansive, with floor-to-ceiling windows that framed a stunning view of the city skyline. Plush cream carpets covered the floor, so soft you’d forgone wearing slippers long ago. A canopy bed draped with sheer white fabric stood as the centerpiece, its silk bedding in soft blush and ivory tones. A vintage vanity, lined with your collection of luxury perfumes and makeup, sat to the side, while a wall of custom closets held the curated wardrobe that your stylist loved to call “your personal archive.”

But it wasn’t any of that that caught your attention this time. It was the bouquet of pink tulips on your bed. The sight of them stopped you in your tracks. They were vibrant, freshly cut, and tied with a delicate ribbon. Resting against them was a small handwritten note. You picked it up, the paper soft and expensive beneath your fingertips.

“Can’t wait to see you tonight and make you mine.”

The signature at the bottom was unmistakable: CH, followed by a small heart. Your heart fluttered in response. Cooper. Of course it was him. He always knew exactly what to do. He remembered that tulips were your favorite — a detail Nicholas never seemed to catch on to, despite how many times he’d brought you roses. Roses were lovely, but tulips? Tulips felt personal to you, especially since Cooper knew why you liked them so much.

One sunny morning, a breakfast date with Cooper led to a stroll through the park. The air was crisp, the kind that made everything feel lighter, and the vibrant bed of tulips in bloom instantly caught your eye. You paused, pulling out your sleek Contax G2 to snap a photo, then another, and another.

Cooper chuckled, hands tucked into his pockets as he watched you. “Why so many?” he asked, his tone warm and teasing.

You smiled, lowering your camera. “When I was little, my grandmother used to sit me in her garden while she planted tulips. She was this elegant, no-nonsense woman, but in the garden, she was different. Softer. Tending to her flowers was her favorite kind of hard work. It always felt like our secret world, just the two of us.”

As you spoke, your voice softened with nostalgia, and Cooper listened intently. His usual playful demeanor shifted; the teasing glint in his hazel eyes was replaced by something deeper. He wasn’t just hearing your story—he was falling for you with every word.

The way you spoke about your grandmother, the light in your eyes as you shared this piece of yourself—it was mesmerizing. Cooper’s gaze lingered on you, filled with a quiet adoration that made the moment feel suspended in time.

From that day on, he made a silent promise to himself. Every time he saw you, he’d show up with a single tulip in hand. The first time, he offered it with a shy grin. “One for now,” he said, his voice low and sincere, “and maybe a bouquet later.”

Your phone buzzed, pulling you from the memory. Fully expecting it to be Cooper calling to see if you’d gotten the flowers, you smiled as you reached for your phone. But when you glanced at the screen, your breath caught.

Nicholas.

You hesitated for half a second before answering. “Hey, Nicky.”

“Hey,” his voice was warm, that lazy, playful drawl he always had when he was in a good mood. “Just wanted to say I’m really looking forward to seeing you tonight. I know you’re gonna look amazing. You always do.”

“Thanks,” you said, leaning back against your pillows. Your tone was sweet but eyes drifted to the tulips again, their petals catching the golden hour light filtering through your window.

“And listen,” Nicholas continued, his voice dipping into a conspiratorial tone, “I’ve got something planned for after the party -- If you’re up for it, of course. I’m pretty sure this will make things a little easier for you.”

You let out a breathy giggle. Nicholas knew his spontaneity and charm, aside from his good looks, could win you over. His voice blurred as your thoughts floated back to a different time, another moment when he’d swept you off your feet with his easy charisma and his knack for pulling you out of the whirlwind.

The summer after you graduated college was relentless—interviews and expectations piling on, leaving you breathless. You’d stood Nicholas up that week, overwhelmed by the chaos, but he didn’t seem to mind. He showed up at your door, calm and sure.

“You need a break,” he said, his brown eyes steady and warm. “Pack a bag. Just a change of clothes and a bathing suit.”

You didn’t argue. Moments later, you were in his car, the city fading behind he as Sinatra played softly through the speakers. The scent of saltwater greeted you long before Nicholas turned off the road onto a secluded beach.

The ocean stretched endlessly before you, sparkling under the sun. Without hesitation, you kicked off your shoes and ran toward the waves, laughing freely for the first time in weeks.

Nicholas followed at his own pace, watching you with a soft smile. “Don’t forget to breathe!” he teased, his voice light.

When you ran back, drenched and beaming, he wrapped a towel around you, pulling you close. “You’ve been carrying so much,” he said, his hand brushing your cheek. “But you don’t have to have it all figured out. Life is still beautiful, still yours to enjoy.”

Tears pricked your eyes, and you whispered, “Thank you, Nicky.”

“Always,” he murmured, his fingers lacing with yours as the waves rolled in behind you.

“Y/N…hello, are you still there?”

Nicholas’s voice pulled you back to the present. His tone was gentle but curious, a soft nudge to bring you back. “You okay? You got quiet on me for a second there.”

“Yeah,” you said quickly, blinking away the memory. “I’m here. Sorry, I was listening… I think the red turtle neck would look nice, trust me.”

“I’d wear one of those rainbow umbrella hats if you told me to”, Nicholas replied with coyness, you could tell came with a snide smirk on the other end.

Your lips curved into a smile. “And I’m sure you’d look great regardless,” you checked the time on your side table alarm clock, “And if I don’t start getting ready now, you’ll show up looking better than me at my own party. I’ll see you tonight”

“See you tonight beautiful,” Nicholas said hanging up the phone.

Your phone slipped from your hands onto the bed, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. It wasn’t lost on you how complicated things had become. Nicholas and Cooper had despised each other long before you’d come into the picture. Their families had always been at odds, but the animosity had only grown after the tennis match.

You’d gone to support Cooper, not realizing Nicholas was his opponent. The tension in the air that day had been palpable, charged with more than just competitive energy. When the match ended and they’d both approached you simultaneously, their expressions a mix of confusion and hurt, it all unraveled.

They’d each thought you were there for them. Words were exchanged, chests puffed, and if one of their coaches hadn’t intervened, fists might have flown. It was messy, a little brutish, and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t kind of hot.

The memory replayed in your mind, and your breath hitched as the details sharpened. You remembered the way Nicholas’s strong hands curled into tight fists, veins bulging along his forearms, his usually calm demeanor flickering with fiery intensity. Then there was Cooper, his jaw clenched so tight you could see the muscle jump, his sharp blue eyes boring into Nicholas like he was daring him to make a move.

Both men had staked their claim over you in no uncertain terms. Nicholas, his deep, steady voice, a calming but commanding presence, telling Cooper to back off because you’d come to see him. Cooper, refusing to yield, had stepped forward, his broad chest rising and falling as he fired back with his own confident assertion that you’d made it clear who you were there for.

The more you remembered, the hotter you felt, a warm tingle blooming low in your belly. You couldn’t stop your mind from drifting to the way they’d looked in that moment—two powerhouses, their towering frames practically vibrating with restrained aggression, both ready to fight for you. The thought sent a spark straight through you, and you instinctively squeezed your thighs together, desperate to quell the growing ache.

But it wasn’t enough.

You pushed yourself off the bed, deciding a cold shower would help clear your head. Your bathroom was an opulent retreat, the centerpiece of your suite. Marble countertops gleamed under the soft glow of chandelier lighting, and the oversized walk-in shower, enclosed in glass, boasted multiple showerheads and a luxurious rainfall feature. You turned the water on, adjusting it to a cool but comfortable temperature, and stepped inside, the mist already softening the tension in your muscles.

Still, as the water cascaded over your skin, you couldn’t shake the thoughts from your mind. The memory of Nicholas and Cooper’s heated argument twisted into something darker, more intoxicating. You imagined them in a different setting, their rivalry spilling into the bedroom. Instead of fighting with words, they’d use their bodies to prove who could claim you more thoroughly, more passionately.

The vivid thought sent your pulse racing. You pictured Nicholas, his strong hands gripping your thighs as he whispered in your ear, his usually composed demeanor unraveling as he sought to make you lose control. Then Cooper, not to be outdone, trailing heated kisses down your neck, his cocky smirk melting into something desperate as he worked to outdo Nicholas, both of them vying for your moans, your gasps, your finish.

The ache between your legs became unbearable. Almost on autopilot, you reached for the detachable showerhead. You adjusted the settings, angling it just right as the water pressure hit your throbbing self. A gasp escaped your lips, and your knees buckled slightly, your free hand bracing against the cool marble wall.

You let your eyes flutter shut, the fantasy playing out behind your lids as the water pulsed against you. The imagined sounds of their voices—Nicholas’s deep, breathy whispers and Cooper’s rough, low groans—mingled with the steady rhythm of the shower. Your hips moved instinctively, chasing the sensation as you rode the wave of pleasure building within you.

The cool tile of the shower wall met your back as you slammed against it, your body arching with the building tension. The relentless spray of the shower head pulsed against you, sending waves of heat coursing through your body. Your hand instinctively reached up, cupping your breast as your fingers found your nipple, squeezing and pinching in rhythm with your escalating pleasure.

Breathy moans slipped from your lips, the sound mingling with the soft hiss of water against the tile. Each whimper was sharp and unrestrained, your breaths hitching as the pressure built higher and higher. Your eyes clenched shut, a desperate attempt to ground yourself, but the name that spilled from your mouth was entirely unexpected.

“Nicholas…” you moaned, the sound raw and unfiltered.

Your eyes snapped open, startled by how naturally it had slipped from your lips as if your subconscious had been holding onto it all along. The thought sent a fresh wave of heat spiraling through you, tightening the coil low in your belly.

Your free hand shot out to steady yourself against the opposite wall, your body trembling as the fantasy took hold. “Cooper…” you whimpered, voice laced with yearning. The thought of both men worshiping your body pushed you closer to the edge. Your lips parted, a soft cry spilling out. “That feels so good, baby…”

The vivid image filled your mind—Nicholas’s boyish grin turned wicked with desire, Cooper’s hands firm yet tender against your skin. The imagined weight of their attention, their touch, tipped you over.

Your body tensed, a shuddering gasp escaping you as the release swept through, leaving your legs weak and trembling. You clung to the wall for support, your breath stuttering in the aftermath. The tension slowly ebbed away, the pulsing water washing over you, grounding you back in reality.

A quiet laugh bubbled up as you ran a hand through your wet hair, shaking your head at yourself. “Get it together,” you muttered with a wry smile, reaching for the towel hanging nearby. Wrapping it snugly around your body, you stepped out of the shower, cheeks still flushed and thoughts lingering far longer than you intended.

----

You and Dionne lingered in the backyard’s conversation pit, the kind of luxurious setup that made you feel like you were in the pages of an interior design magazine. The space was undeniably chic—a sunken circular area surrounded by sleek stone walls, with plush cream-upholstered seating that invited you to sink in and stay a while. Overhead, string lights crisscrossed in delicate patterns, casting a warm, golden glow over the backyard. The faint scent of jasmine mixed with the lingering aroma of grilled vegetables and rosemary from dinner, while the hum of crickets filled the gaps in your conversation.

You’d both done your due diligence, making just enough small talk with the party guests to keep your mom off your back. Now, the two of you finally had a moment to yourselves. Dionne, dressed impeccably in a silky lavender blouse that shimmered in the light, swirled the champagne in her glass, watching the bubbles rise before taking a sip.

“Cooper’s family came in right behind mine,” she began casually, her dark eyes glinting with mischief. “And get this—he had a Van Cleef bag in his hand. When I asked him about it, he didn’t say much, but he did mention that he knew you’d love it.”

You inhaled sharply, a knowing smirk tugging at your lips. “It’s probably the Alhambra butterfly necklace. I pointed it out on our last date,” you said, leaning back against the cushioned seat. “I could practically see the dollar signs in his eyes.”

Dionne laughed, her voice a warm melody against the night air. “Girl, you are so lucky. I mean, seriously. The two hottest guys from our prep school—not to mention they’ve only gotten hotter—chasing after you like this?” She gave you a playful nudge with her elbow. “I love this for you.”

You tilted your head, a wistful smile creeping across your face as you exhaled. “Yeah… it’s a lot to think about.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly with mock seriousness. “So, what are you gonna do? You’ve got to choose one eventually.”

You chuckled softly, taking a sip of your own champagne. “I don’t know, Dee.”

With a grin, she leaned in conspiratorially. “Well, I say you pick whoever’s better in bed.”

You shot her a look, one eyebrow raised, and her mouth fell open. “Oh my God, wait—you didn’t!” She set her glass down on the low table in front of you, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she leaned closer. “Spill! I thought for sure, with all those drives up to the mountains with Nicholas and Cooper, you’d—”

You cut her off, laughing as you waved a hand dismissively. “No, no! Part of the fun is keeping them waiting. You know me—I like a little suspense.”

Her jaw dropped in exaggerated shock, and she gasped. “You’re telling me… you’ve gone all this time and haven’t…?”

You grinned slyly, lowering your voice just enough to make her lean in further. “Kissed them enough to fog up car windows? Sure. Teased them with neck kisses and… other things during movie nights? Of course.” You paused, watching her expression as she hung on your every word. “But I’ve been keeping them on their toes. The tension? The chase? It makes everything so much hotter.”

Dionne burst into laughter, throwing her head back. “You are such a tease,” she said, still laughing. “Pure agonizing tease. But I’m here for it. Whoever you pick tonight is gonna be the luckiest man alive.”

You shrugged with a playful smirk, murmuring under your breath but loud enough for her to catch, “Maybe I’m considering both.”

Her gasp turned into a shocked laugh, loud and unabashed. “You didn’t just say that!”

Before you could reply, the patio door creaked open, and your mom’s voice rang out, cheerful but commanding. “Dinner’s ready, girls!”

The two of you exchanged a look, Dionne biting her lip to keep from giggling as you grabbed your glass. “Coming!” you called back, your voice perfectly composed.

As you stood to head inside, Dionne leaned close and whispered with a wicked grin, “I’m sure you will be.”

----

The dining room was a masterpiece of luxury, with its vaulted ceilings and gilded accents that sparkled under the glow of cascading crystal chandeliers. The table stretched nearly the entire length of the room, draped in an ivory cloth embroidered with golden threads, each place setting carefully arranged with fine china and polished silverware. The scent of freshly cut roses mingled with the faint aroma of roasted vegetables drifting in from the kitchen.

You had nearly forgot that you fixed the seating arrangement; Nicholas next to you, Dionne across from you, and Cooper next her, across from Nicholas.

You were deep in conversation with a family friend about your post-college job search, nodding thoughtfully as you explained your next steps and goals. The sound of laughter and clinking glasses from the party faded into the background, your focus entirely on the discussion. You hadn’t even noticed Nicholas and Cooper making their way toward the table.

Before you realized what was happening, Nicholas was at your side, effortlessly pulling out your chair. His hand—large and warm—found its place on your waist, guiding you gently but firmly back to your seat. The subtle pressure of his touch sent a shiver up your spine, but you maintained your composure, offering a polite smile as you wrapped up the conversation.

His gesture wasn’t just polite—it was deliberate, designed to be noticed. A murmur of approval rippled through the room, subtle but unmistakable. You caught the small smile tugging at your mother’s lips from across the table, her eyes glinting with pride at the display of gentlemanly behavior.

You murmured your thanks as you sat, letting him slide your chair in. His cologne, an enticing blend of cedar and spice, lingered faintly in the air as he leaned in just slightly, his voice dropping to a near whisper.

“My pleasure,” he said, the words brushing against your ear like a secret meant only for you.

Across the table, Cooper’s reaction was immediate and impossible to miss. His jaw tightened, his hand gripping the back of his chair as he glared at Nicholas with barely concealed irritation. The muscle in his cheek twitched, and his eyes flicked back to you, darkened by an emotion you could only describe as possessive.

Despite his simmering frustration, Cooper stayed seated, refusing to make a scene. Dionne flashed you a look of saucy approval, you hid your smirk before the server came over to take your order.

As Nicholas returned to his seat, Cooper’s gaze lingered on you for a heartbeat longer, his eyes tracing your features before he finally turned his attention to the wine list in front of him.

You sat there, calm and poised on the outside, but your heart was pounding.

The servers moved seamlessly around the table, placing delicate plates of appetizers before each guest. The room was alive with the clink of silverware and soft murmurs of conversation, but your focus wavered as your father stood from his seat, raising his glass with an air of practiced authority.

“To community,” he began, his voice steady and commanding as it carried across the room. “To connections that bring us together and strengthen us—personally, professionally, and beyond.” He gestured toward his boss with a respectful nod, his smile warm but calculated.

He turned to you next, his eyes softening. “To my brilliant daughter, whose success continues to amaze us all.” His glass tilted toward your mom as his smile widened. “And to my wife, the love of my life, whose support has made all of this possible.”

The table erupted in polite applause and scattered cheers, and your mom lifted her glass with an appreciative smile. “To family,” she said, her voice bright and sincere. “And to the man who keeps ours grounded and inspired every day.”

The momentum of the toasts carried on as others chimed in. Your uncle stood to wish everyone health and wealth, and a few other family friends added their sentiments about the joys of togetherness and new opportunities. You thought the flurry of toasts had finally come to a close when a brief silence settled over the room.

But then, a low screech of wood against polished floors cut through the quiet as Cooper rose from his seat.

“And a toast,” he began, his voice clear and bold, the room instantly drawn to him. His gaze was locked on you, his hazel eyes shimmering with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “To Y/N, for her beauty and grace.”

The air seemed to still as the words left his lips, his tone brimming with sincerity. “Since the day I met her, she’s done nothing but charm me and challenge me to be a better man.”

Your heart thudded painfully in your chest as every eye turned toward you. You managed a smile—tongue-in-cheek, though your cheeks burned with heat. You could feel Dionne nearly vibrating across from you, barely able to contain her giddy excitement as she pressed her lips tightly together to suppress a grin.

Next to you, Nicholas’s expression darkened like a brewing storm. His fingers curled around the stem of his wine glass with such force you thought it might snap. His jaw clenched visibly, the muscle ticking with restrained fury as his eyes shot daggers at Cooper.

Your mom, ever the master of social nuance, caught your eye with a subtle nod and an intrigued glint in her gaze. Whatever this was, she seemed to think it was not only entertaining but possibly advantageous. Your dad, on the other hand, looked utterly bewildered, his brow furrowed in confusion as he glanced between you and Cooper.

The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife, Dionne, raised her glass high, her voice ringing out cheerfully. “To everyone here tonight!”

The collective relief after Dionne’s toast was nearly tangible as glasses were raised, and the murmur of polite conversation began to hum around the table once more. Everyone seemed eager to let the tension dissipate—everyone except for Nicholas, who still hadn’t lifted his glass.

His knuckles were white as they gripped the base of the wine glass, the sharp angles of his jaw working overtime as he stared daggers at Cooper. It was a standoff only the two of them seemed to be fully aware of, the air between them crackling with silent hostility.

Cooper, ever the opportunist, didn’t let the moment pass unnoticed. “Come on, Nicholas,” he said with a sly grin, his voice just loud enough to draw a few curious glances. “Don’t be a barbarian—it’s a wine glass. You just grab it and raise it when everyone else does.”

The jab was subtle but sharp, cutting through the tension like a knife. Nicholas’s jaw clenched so tightly you wondered if he might crack a tooth. His eyes burned with a fury that would have sent most people scrambling, but Cooper only leaned back slightly in his chair, his confidence brimming.

Cooper cocked his shoulders with an ease that was almost infuriating, a smirk tugging at his lips as he shot Nicholas a wink. It was the kind of victorious, self-assured gesture that screamed I’ve won this round, and it left no doubt in anyone’s mind about who had taken control of the moment.

Nicholas finally, begrudgingly, raised his glass, his movements slow and deliberate as if every second of compliance was a battle. His dark eyes flicked back to you briefly, the intensity in them leaving a shiver down your spine.

Dinner had gone smoothly, though the charged undercurrent of tension was unmistakable. The low murmur of conversation, the clinking of silverware against fine china, and the occasional burst of laughter from the adults filled the air.

The dining room was grand, with soft golden light spilling from an ornate chandelier above the long table, casting a warm glow over the elegant table settings and half-empty glasses of wine. Cooper and Nicholas, seated strategically to keep you in their orbit, continued their subtle battle for your attention.

You maintained a composed and neutral demeanor, responding with polite smiles and light conversation. Internally, though, you were keenly aware of their every move. Dionne, sitting opposite you, occasionally met your eye with a knowing smirk, clearly enjoying the game unfolding before her.

She couldn’t resist adding fuel to the fire. Between bites of her crème brûlée, she tossed out quips like, “Y/N needs a man who’s not intimidated by success. Nicholas, are you intimidated by women with success?” Her tone was teasing, but the twinkle in her eye left little doubt she was having fun watching them squirm.

Nicholas smirked, tapping the rim of his glass. “Oh, I’m more than capable of keeping up, Coop. It’s just a matter of knowing how to play the game.” His eyes never left you, the unspoken message clear.

Cooper leaned in, a mischievous glint in his eye. “It’s not about playing the game, Nick. It’s about winning it.” He raised an eyebrow, letting the words hang in the air as he slid a teasing glance in your direction. "And trust me, I know how to win."

Nicholas chuckled again, the sound low and confident. “Winning isn’t always about being first. Sometimes, it’s about knowing when to take your time.” His voice dropped a notch, a subtle invitation lingering in his words.

Cooper wasn’t backing down. “Taking your time? I guess we’ll see how far that gets you when the clock’s ticking.” He gave you a wink, his tone playful yet laden with challenge. “I work better under pressure, you know.”

“Oh, I’m aware,” Nicholas quipped, his gaze sharp. “But we all know who’s got the stamina for the long haul.” His lips curled into a knowing smile as he leaned forward, his voice a bit lower. "Some things can’t be rushed."

Cooper’s grin widened, the tension crackling in the air. “Maybe. But there’s a difference between stamina and strategy. And I’ve got both on my side.” He turned toward you with a knowing look, making sure to catch your eye before adding, “You’ll see what I mean.”

Nicholas shot him a sly glance, clearly not phased. “I think she already has, Coop.” He met your gaze, the connection undeniable, before turning back to Cooper. “But we’ll see how the game plays out.”

You and Dionne could hardly contain yourselves, struggling to stifle chuckles and your face getting hot from tension from the boys but trying to withstand the heat pooling in the pit of your stomach.

-----

The party had gradually wound down, the lively buzz of conversation and laughter from earlier now replaced by a soft hum of voices in the backyard. A few remaining guests lingered with your parents, gathered in the cozy conversation pit beneath the glow of string lights. The gentle rustle of the breeze carried snippets of their relaxed chatter, the occasional clink of glasses punctuating the calm atmosphere. The backyard was a picture of tranquility, the perfect wind-down to an otherwise bustling evening.

You, with a gentle nudge from Dionne, signaling that with everyone outside it’s the perfect time for you to get away with Nicholas and Cooper to your room. You put your hand on Nicholas’ thigh at the dinner table, speaking just above a whisper for him to join you in your room. You see the excitement bubbling in him, but it quickly diminished when you invited Cooper as well.

What had started as a laid-back conversation about clothes and music had spiraled into a heated argument between the two -- it was loud and abrasive but exactly your plan.

You sat on the edge of the bed while they stood on either side of you and argued.

“God, everything about you is so trite,” Nicholas scoffed, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

Cooper’s lips twitched into a sardonic smile. “Trite? Coming from you?” He gestured toward Nicholas, his voice steady but biting. “That’s rich coming from like the Ivy league frat trash."

Cooper’s gaze darkened. “Everyone knows how many times you got arrested for disorderlies, daddy came and bailed you out each and every time and now you have a cushy job at his firm because no one would hire your ass! ”

Nicholas straightened, stepping forward, his voice low and dangerous. “At least I can keep her interested. You? You’d bore her to tears with your lectures about art-house films and overpriced coffee.”

“You think she wants some overgrown frat boy? Grow up. She deserves someone who’ll treat her right, not drag her into your mess.”

“Oh, because you’re the knight in shining armor?” Nicholas sneered. “I bring something to the table you never could”

Cooper took a slow breath, his calm exterior fraying. “That explains why you showed up empty-handed tonight, huh? Not even a rose. Thoughtful as ever, I see.” He reached into his coat and pulled out a sleek Van Cleef bag, holding it up for emphasis. “This, at least, shows I care enough to know what she likes.”

Nicholas rolled his eyes. “You think gifts are the way to her heart? Please. She can buy that for herself. I give her what she needs.”

Cooper tilted his head, his voice dropping into a low growl. “You don’t even know what she needs.”

As their words grew sharper, the room seemed to heat with tension, and you couldn’t help the twinge deep in your core. Their arguing wasn’t just about their preferences or styles; it was about you. The way they both stared at each other, the venom in their words—it all pointed back to the same thing: they were fighting for you.

“Boys, please,” you interrupted, your voice low but firm, cutting through the heated tension between them. It wasn’t a harsh tone—just commanding enough to grab their attention and stop the bickering. Their arguing immediately ceased, leaving a palpable silence in its wake.

“Claiming you both know what I want without actually asking me? That’s a little ridiculous, don’t you think?” you said, your teasing tone relieving some of the aggressive energy in the room. Though the animosity between Nicholas and Cooper lingered beneath the surface, their eyes were now focused entirely on you, brimming with adoration.

Cooper shifted, sitting down beside you and resting a hand gently on your thigh. “Sorry,” he said, his voice soft and apologetic, but his expression still held a hint of smugness as he flashed you his charming, dimpled smile. “He just brings out the worst in me.”

Nicholas scoffed from across the room before dropping down on your other side with a dramatic plop. “As if you don’t deserve it,” he muttered, but his eyes were fixed on you with an intensity that betrayed his annoyance.

“What can I do for you?” Cooper asked, taking your hands in his, his lips brushing against your knuckles in a gesture that felt as much a declaration of his feelings as it was a jab at Nicholas.

“Relax,” Nicholas cut in, his tone flat and stern, clearly irritated by Cooper’s display. His gaze never left yours as he leaned in closer.

The exchange made you chuckle, and to diffuse the tension, you leaned toward Nicholas and pressed a soft kiss to his jawline. His eyes softened slightly, the hard edge of his frustration melting away under your touch.

You took a steadying breath, your heart thumping in your chest as both sets of eyes bore into you, waiting. “I appreciate the gifts, the dates,” you began, your tone gentle but deliberate, making sure they both felt the weight of your words. “You know I do. But I want—need—more.”

Both of them stilled, their hesitation palpable as they processed your words. The room seemed to collectively hold its breath. You met their gazes, your voice calm but dripping with intent as you added, “I want you both to show me.”

Nicholas blinked, his brown eyes wide, stunned into silence for a beat before he managed to stammer, “You mean… both of us? Now?” His voice cracked slightly, a mix of disbelief and anticipation.

You gave him a pointed look, your eyes heavy-lidded and smoldering. Bedroom eyes, they used to call it, and now you wielded them with purpose.

“Like… at the same time?” Cooper’s voice was shaky, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. His uncertainty didn’t stop him from leaning forward slightly, his gaze sweeping over you with a mixture of awe and yearning.

Instead of answering, you rose from the bed with a fluid motion, standing in front of them. Slowly, you reached for the zipper of your dress, letting the straps slip down your shoulders with deliberate care. Every movement was intentional, slow and teasing, as you drew the fabric down over your body. Their eyes were glued to you, neither daring to speak as the tension thickened in the air, the anticipation palpable with every second.

When your dress finally pooled at your feet, you stood before them in nothing but the delicate lingerie you’d chosen earlier—an ensemble designed to accentuate every curve, every detail meant to entice. The way their jaws tightened, the way their gazes roamed your figure, drinking you in, was all the confirmation you needed.

Their eyes tracked your every movement as if they couldn’t look away, taking in the way the soft fabric slid from your body and the confident way you climbed onto the bed. Positioned at its center, you gave them both a look that was equal parts commanding and inviting. They remained frozen, caught between anticipation and hesitation, until you broke the silence with a playful challenge.

“Are you going to keep me waiting?” you teased, your tone sultry yet light.

That was all it took. In an instant, both of them sprang into action, fumbling with buttons and pulling at their clothes. Their movements were uncoordinated at first—hands catching on shirt sleeves and belts—but as their layers peeled away, the uncertainty melted into something more primal. Even as they undressed, their eyes never left you, their hunger for you evident in every glance and the way their chests rose and fell with heavy breaths.

Nicholas was the first to make his move. He crossed the mattress with a deliberate pace, crawling toward you with a confidence that sent a shiver down your spine. The way his back muscles rippled with each movement made your pulse quicken, a delicious ache building inside you as you watched him close the gap.

When he reached you, his large hands found your waist, his grip firm but reverent as he gently pulled you closer to him. His lips pressed soft, lingering kisses to your stomach, each touch sending waves of warmth and electricity through your body. The sensation of his breath on your skin, the way his fingers brushed against your sides, left you breathless.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and almost reverent. His hands slid up to cradle your torso, his thumbs tracing lazy circles against your ribs as he kissed his way upward, pausing just below your sternum.

Behind him, Cooper hesitated for a moment, watching the scene unfold with a mixture of awe and determination. Then, as if spurred on by Nicholas’s lead, he climbed onto the bed, his movements slower and more deliberate, but no less intense.

Cooper reached out with a steady hand, his touch on your jaw both tender and possessive as he guided your face to his. His lips claimed yours in a kiss that was deep and consuming, filled with a need that made your breath hitch. His kiss wasn’t just a gesture—it was a declaration, a challenge to Nicholas as much as it was a promise to you.

As your lips moved together, you couldn’t ignore the way Nicholas’s hands continued their deliberate exploration, his mouth now dangerously close to your pantyline. His hot breath against your skin sent shivers racing up your spine, the contrast between his slow, teasing movements and Cooper’s demanding kiss leaving you feeling utterly undone.

Cooper’s grip on your waist tightened as though anchoring you to him, his thumb brushing over your cheek in a fleeting but intimate gesture. Before Nicholas could draw all your attention, Cooper broke the kiss just enough to press his forehead to yours, his breath mingling with yours as he whispered, “I’ve wanted this—wanted you—for so long.”

His words made your heart skip, but before you could respond, Cooper took your hand, guiding it deliberately to him, pressing it against the hardness straining against the fabric of his underwear. The heat of him, the way he swelled and grew under your touch, sent a flush spreading through your body.

Your lips trailed to his neck, tasting the salt of his skin, and you bit down lightly at the juncture of his collarbone. Cooper’s low groan vibrated against your lips, and the way his hips involuntarily bucked against your hand made you smile against his skin.

Nicholas, clearly unwilling to be ignored, let out a soft chuckle against your stomach. “Don’t forget about me,” he teased, his voice thick with heat and a hint of frustration. He pressed an open-mouthed kiss just above your hip bone before his fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, tugging them down slightly.

In one smooth motion, Nicholas pulled your panties down and tossed them aside, his movements confident and deliberate. His hands immediately found your most sensitive spot, his thumbs massaging slow, tantalizing circles against your clit, sending sparks shooting through your body. A moan escaped your lips, muffled against the warmth of Cooper’s neck, but the tremble in your breath gave you away.

Nicholas smirked, clearly pleased with your reaction. “You're so wet,” he murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction. His words only made the fire in your belly burn hotter. “That’s my good, perfect girl.”

The praise sent a wave of heat rushing through you, and before you could catch your breath, Nicholas moved with purpose. He slid down the bed, lying flat on his back, and with a firm but gentle grip, he guided you over him. “Come here,” he commanded softly, his tone leaving no room for argument. His strong hands gripped your thighs, and he used his biceps to brace you down onto him, holding you firmly in place.

As soon as his mouth met your core, a shudder of pleasure rippled through you. Nicholas’s tongue moved with expert precision, lapping at you with a hunger that left you breathless. The flat of his tongue pressed against your most sensitive spot before he shifted to flick and swirl, his lips sealing around your clit to suck gently.

You tried to keep your composure, to maintain your focus on Cooper, but it was impossible. Your lips faltered against his skin, your head falling back as a strangled moan tore from your throat. Cooper chuckled softly, his hand coming up to steady you as your body trembled.

“Losing focus already?” Cooper teased, his voice low and warm against your ear.

You tried to respond, but Nicholas’s tongue was relentless, his hands gripping your hips to keep you steady as he worked. Your back arched involuntarily, and your hands flew out to brace yourself, one landing on Cooper’s chest while the other tangled in Nicholas’s hair.

Nicholas hummed against you, the vibrations making your thighs quiver. He tilted his head slightly, his tongue diving deeper to explore every inch of you, his pace never faltering. Your breath came in ragged gasps, and your head fell forward, resting on Cooper’s chest as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak.

Nicholas’s hum of approval sent shockwaves through your body, his tongue moving with precision as if he knew exactly how to unravel you. Cooper’s lips on your neck were hot and insistent, his teeth grazing your skin before he soothed the marks with his tongue. His large hands kneaded your breasts, his thumbs flicking over your hardened nipples, each motion sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your chest.

Your moans filled the room, their names tumbling from your lips in a desperate symphony that seemed to drive them further. Nicholas’s voice rumbled against you, low and commanding. “Good girl,” he praised, his hands tightening their grip on your thighs as he worked his tongue deeper, his nose brushing against your sensitive bud in a way that made your toes curl.

Cooper’s hands slid down your sides, grounding you in his touch as his kisses became hungrier, more possessive. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered against your ear, his voice thick with admiration and arousal.

The idea of them putting their differences aside, silently agreeing to focus on your pleasure, sent a new wave of heat surging through you. The coordinated rhythm of their touches left you completely undone, your body trembling as they spurred you closer and closer to the edge.

Your fingers tangled in Cooper’s hair, pulling him closer as your other hand gripped the sheets beneath you. “I—I’m so close Cooper, I'm gonna cum” you gasped, your body teetering on the brink. Nicholas responded with another hum, his tongue circling your sensitive spot with precision, while Cooper pressed his lips to yours, swallowing your moans as you finally shattered.

Your release washed over you in waves, your body arching as you cried out, their names spilling from your lips like a mantra. Nicholas slowed his pace, helping you ride out the high, his hands rubbing soothing circles into your thighs. Cooper held you steady, his kisses softening as he murmured reassurances against your lips.

When the aftershocks subsided, you slumped against Cooper’s chest, your breathing ragged, your body tingling from head to toe. Nicholas looked up at you with a satisfied smirk, his lips glistening. “Told you I’d make you feel good,” he teased, his voice thick with pride. Before sauntering off to the bathroom, he leaned down, capturing your lips in a deep kiss that left you breathless. The taste of yourself lingered on his tongue, and when you bit his lip playfully, a low, guttural moan escaped him. He pulled away with a grin that promised more, leaving you flushed and wanting.

Cooper stayed close, his hands gently stroking your sides before he tilted your chin up and kissed you again. His lips were softer, slower, carrying a tenderness that made your heart flutter. As the kiss ended, he pulled back and reached for his jacket, retrieving a sleek Van Cleef bag.

“While he’s away,” Cooper said, his voice low and intimate, “I wanted to give you this.”

From the bag, he pulled out a delicate Alhambra butterfly necklace. The intricate design shimmered in the soft light, the wings adorned with mother-of-pearl framed by gleaming gold. The craftsmanship was exquisite, each detail reflecting thoughtfulness and care.

Your breath caught in your throat as he stepped closer, holding the necklace carefully. “I know this isn’t a deciding factor,” he continued, his tone earnest, “but even if you end up with him, I know how much you wanted this. You deserve it.”

Speechless, you turned your back to him, your hair falling to one side as he clasped the necklace around your neck. His fingers brushed against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. Crossing the room, you stopped in front of the vanity, your reflection glowing. The necklace sat perfectly against your collarbone, a symbol of Cooper’s thoughtfulness and affection.

You ran your fingers over the pendant, a soft smile spreading across your lips. The more you looked in the mirror, the more the reality of your situation sank in. Two incredible men, each devoted to your happiness in their own ways. Nicholas, with his passionate intensity and relentless focus on your pleasure. Cooper, with his tender gestures and unwavering desire to see you smile. How could anyone possibly ask for more?

Your fingers lingered at the base of your throat, tracing the butterfly before letting them trail lower, a coy smile tugging at your lips. “You know,” you said, glancing back at Cooper with a spark in your eye, “if you’re going to spoil me like this, I might just have to make it up to you.”

Cooper chuckled, his gaze darkening with desire as he closed the distance between you. “I think I like the sound of that,” he murmured, his hands sliding around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

[strawberrykidneystone]

something i’ve thought about a lot lately is how often garrus says “just like old times.” i truly didn’t notice how many times he said it until i replayed the series recently, he says it pretty consistantly across me2 and me3.

garrus is often reminiscing about times that weren’t even that long ago, but i think that really speaks to how goddamn miserable he was before he joined the normandy crew. he mentions frequently that he was never a good turian, who if given the chance; would go back in time and take up painting in his education rather than a military life, which mostly likely ostracized him from his peers where a deep yearning for studying the humanities rather than military service would definitely lead to ridicule. sure, he followed in his father’s footsteps to c-sec but he wasn’t really happy there, too much red tape, etc.

that’s not to say that he didn’t make any connections at all (ie. garrus calling out for old coworkers when the citadel gets nerfed in me3), but they were most likely surface level and not very deep, not like the actual friendships that garrus made on the ship that connected turians and humans on a mutually beneficial project.

but once he joined the normandy with the rest of these heathens who didn’t have to worry about government regulations and could make an immediate impact on people’s lives for the better? oh i know he was riding that high for WEEKS, which is why that time is so precious to him as he actually found like minded people who he could bond with without any outside bureaucratic pressures that they had to meet.

i also believe he likes to refer to “old times” because he wants to remember the times that he’s been apart of a team and helped, sort of pavloving himself into remembering the times where he was part of a team and it was successful, rather than his most recent ventures without the crew in omega where he believes he failed as a leader by not realizing that one of his members betrayed him.

one thing i love about the progression through the mass effect triology are the indirect and direct callbacks to previous encounters. mass effect 3 calls back to this very encounter where garrus was tricked by one of his teammates where shepard is also tricked by brooks similarly to sidonis. while the two have different motivations for betrayal, (assume paragon route) shepard offers respite for both their clone and brooks, which garrus watches from the mission sidelines. if i saw someone handling a situation that i was in previously who didn’t let their emotions cloud their judgement like i did, i would have conflicting feelings and i think this was a missed opportunity for the writers, ESPECIALLY if shepard was romancing garrus at the time. in this situation, i feel like garrus would feel shame the most, shame about how he let his men down, shame about how he didn’t handle it like shepard did, and maybe even rising anger at sidonis all over again.

but i suppose he has some calibrations to do in order to sort out of his feelings. (catch me writing a fic about this)

getting back to the original point, the good old days were literally that for him, the best days of his life and the fact that he gets to relive those days over and over again must literally send his heart soaring, like his life finally has meaning away from his father’s legacy and his failures at c-sec where the warmth of the main battery welcomed him in with open arms every time.

i'd also love to hear y'all's thoughts on the good old days for garrus!!!!

[polydamnory]

Xavier in the Poly!D.A.M.N. Crew Headcanons

Did I finish writing this five days ago but wait to specifically post it on the 31st just to be a dick? Maybe so. 

While he doesn’t know how to take a genuine compliment and is very prone to getting flustered by them (he can and will respond to anything nice said to him with “no u”), he isn’t actually all that affected by flirting. Dear and Gavin have now made it a competition to see who can get him to break first strictly via come ons and pickup lines. 

He is constantly making stupid ice/snow puns, sometimes even subconsciously, and it drives Damien nuts. 

He and Lasko like teaming up to plan elaborate dates/vacations for the group and he’s gotten pretty good at preemptively preventing Lasko from spinning out about some small innocuous detail (e.g. ice, mahogany, rolls, etc.). 

Has always been on the tall side, so while he does think it’s cute when someone is shorter/smaller than him (cough cough Lasko), he thinks it’s really hot when someone is taller/bigger than him (cough cough HUXLEY). 

He’s pretty prone to dry skin so Dear - who is a skincare snob, you cannot convince me otherwise - has helped him curate a routine to help with that and is much more on top of making sure he actually keeps up with it. If that sometimes means helping apply moisturizer to his face and hands when he’s too sleepy to do it himself in the morning (he is not a morning person), that’s a sacrifice they’re willing to make. 

Just like with Damien during the winter, Lasko and Freelancer can and will cling to him during the summer to keep cool. Thankfully he and Damien are just like “affection from my partners? Who am I to complain?” and more than welcome it (although Damien is a bit more tsundere about it). 

Insert obligatory he helps cool Damien off when he gets too hot hc - you cannot use the excuse that you’re too hot to be hugged anymore, Damien, your boyfriend won’t let you get away with that anymore! 

Similar to their E&E display, Freelancer has gotten pretty into making random little things with their magic just to see what they can do, and Xavier wants all of them. They mess up and are about to destroy/throw out a failed attempt at creating some little glass tchotchke? Noooooo, let him keep it! He loves seeing them experiment with their magic and wants to witness and keep as much of their progress as they’ll let him (certified mom friend/boyfriend). 

Gavin is consistently trying to convince Xavier of new ways they could incorporate his ice into the bedroom. It doesn’t take much convincing. 

We know for a fact that mans has money and he is 100% down to splurge on his partners. He knows that most of them (if not all) wouldn’t want him to spend too much on them, so he does it a bit more strategically so they don’t feel like he’s “wasting it” on them. For example, if they all were to decide they want to go to a rollarcoaster park or something, he knows that his partners won’t just let him pay for all their tickets, but they will fight a little less harder on him splurging to get them all fast passes or something of the like. 

Exact order of him falling for the group is unclear, but make no mistake, he definitely had a crush on Huxley first, even when he didn’t know him all that well before becoming team captain.