#writing smut in second person is always so weird

[kallie-den]

Cerulean

A recent escapee attends a support group for victims of evil mind control… run by the strange, sinister and inimitable Dr. Amaranth Cerulean

Special thanks to @dollzcomix for this commission, and for allowing me to write about Dr. Cerulean! They are a character of Demoiselle Porcelaine's creation, and I highly encourage you to check out her socials for all of her wonderful artwork of Dr. Cerulean - who truly is inimitable, and whose creator brings across their unique charm better than I ever could

If you like my writing, please consider supporting me on Patreon!  For less than the price of a cup of coffee each month, you can get immediate, early access to everything I write - 4 pieces of hypno-smut a  month, including the latest chapters of all the multi-chapter stories I write. Your support helps me keep writing and is greatly appreciated <3

---

The support group was nice… kind of. In theory. It had sounded nice, anyway, when Mariah had found out about it online. A pop-up ad, of all things, accompanied by a garish animation and a picture of the strange-looking psychiatrist who ran it, and written all in lower-case: ‘villain hypnosis victim support group’. Obviously, Mariah’s first instinct had been to dismiss it as some kind of weird internet con, but then she’d had second thoughts. Was there really a support group for people who’d been through what she had? Could other people actually understand the way she was feeling? If so, wasn’t that worth taking a chance on?

That was how she’d ended up in an untidy, rented office space on the side of the highway after dark.

It both was and wasn’t the kind of atmosphere Mariah had expected. A bunch of chairs set out in a circle. People sitting on them, sharing their stories. Strung up on one wall was a big banner that read ‘Mind Control and What Comes After: A Support Group to Find Yourself Again After Being Brainwashed’ in brightly colored but slightly faded letters. Mariah appreciated the stab at an upbeat atmosphere, but the attendeess simply weren’t up to the task.

They all just seemed so completely and utterly harrowed. Mariah sympathized, of course. She knew the ashamed, traumatized, hollowed-out look on each of their faces all too well. She saw in the mirror every morning. But she’d been hoping to see something a little more encouraging, too. Healing. Solidarity. Catharsis. On TV and in movies, support groups always involved people pouring out their hearts, breaking down, embracing one another. Making breakthroughs and overcoming their issues.

Mariah hadn’t expected the real thing to be quite so dramatic, but she’d been looking for more than a sequence of interminable recountings of horrors and violations. Each one seemed to conjure the awfulness of the past back into the present and leave the recounter shriveled and trembling. It was like the support group was making the attendees lesser, not greater. Mariah wasn’t sure she could see any signs of healing at all, or even of people finding solidarity in their brokenness. It was all just miserable.

The only person who seemed like they were having a good time was the psychiatrist running the thing.

Dr. Amaranth Cerulean, they/she.

They looked just as weird in person as they had on their advert. Dr. Cerulean was deathly pale, with big, tired, dark-circled eyes and unusual, light blue markings beneath them, as well as on her lips. It was a strange and striking look, especially along with their prominent nose and the short but poofy, voluminous hair piled up in rounded masses on their head. The shrink wore a gray cardigan over a ribbed, mustard yellow turtleneck sweater which was tucked into the belted waist of their brown slacks. It was an outfit from a different decade. Mariah just wasn’t quite sure which one.

In a way, it wasn’t surprising that a support group like this would be run by an eccentric. Mariah wasn’t one to judge. Dr. Cerulean’s demeanor, though, was a little unnerving. Throughout most of the session, Dr. Cerulean sat on her chair at the head of the group, in a completely slack, slouched pose that registered nothing but complete disinterest. They barely spoke, and only to indicate who should speak next. Certainly not to provide any advice or support. They had a pen and a pad of paper, from the way their hand moved while they were writing on it, Mariah felt certain they were mostly just idly doodling.

Every now and then, however, something would catch their attention. Occasionally—and only when somebody was sharing a particularly lurid, uncomfortable and traumatic part of their experience of being mind controlled—Dr. Cerulean would throw their entire body forward and sit perched so perilously close to their edge of their chair, Mariah feared they were about to topple from it. They would scratch at their notepad in a frenzy, and those big, tired eyes certainly became laser-focused and eager. Whenever that happened, a truly ghastly smile descended on their face. Not warm, not supportive, just pleased. Smug. Grateful, even, like they were thankful someone had stepped up to deliver them from boredom.

And from the slight twitch in their cheek, Mariah couldn’t help but suspect Dr. Cerulean was struggling to keep themself from laughing.

Dr. Cerulean’s presence made the entire support group feel uncomfortably voyeuristic, somehow. When it came to be Mariah’s turn, she kept it to a bare minimum. She introduced herself and made a few oblique references to what had happened to her, but completely glossed over the details. She figured that was pretty normal for a first-timer—and besides, it was difficult to speak with Dr. Cerulean looking at her like she was a fresh-cooked meal placed on their table.

Mariah decided right then and there—there wasn’t going to be a second time. She just didn’t feel comfortable here. It wasn’t the kind of support group she was looking for.

She stuck it out to the end, though—mostly because leaving halfway through seemed much too awkward. Once they wrapped up, before Mariah could slip out quietly, she found that Dr. Cerulean was suddenly between her and the door, and staring at her with an expectant look on their ghoulish face.

“H-Hi,” Mariah said, mostly because she felt like she had to. “Um… thanks for the session.”

“Oh, don’t mention it,” Dr. Cerulean sounded every bit as tired and seedy as they looked. “Thank you for coming. Really. We love a newcomer.”

“Yeah…” Mariah had no idea what to say to that. “Well, I was actually just-“

“Good news!” Dr. Cerulean interrupted suddenly, in a lazy, drawling voice. “You’re actually our one-hundredth member. That means you win a free one-on-one session with yours truly.”

Finger guns.

---

Hell no.

That had been Mariah’s initial response. The easiest ‘nope’ of her life. She’d politely declined, and privately resolved to never set foot in Dr. Cerulean’s support group again.

Then she’d gone home, gone to bed, and had the nightmares again.

It was nothing new. They came for Mariah most nights. But it meant another eight-hour torture session inside her own head, tossing and turning, fighting off both gut-wrenching guilt and poisonous allure. In the cold light of dawn, Mariah had felt worse than ever—and taking up Dr. Cerulean on her offer hadn’t seemed like such a bad idea after all. It had been easy to tell herself that it hadn’t really been that bad after all. Sure, Dr. Cerulean was a bit eccentric, but what had Mariah expected from somebody running a support group for mind control victims? It wasn’t like they’d done anything wrong, exactly.

More importantly, Mariah needed the help. Desperately. She couldn’t keep going on like this. That was why she’d gone to the support group in the first place. She needed to talk to somebody. Didn’t she owe it to herself to push herself? To take every chance? Mariah kept thinking about the kind of stuff she’d read online. Recovery wasn’t always easy. It wasn’t always comfortable. You had to push yourself.

Mariah had decided that she wanted to push herself.

Besides, it was just talking. In the end, that was what clinched it for her. All they were going to do was sit in a room and talk. If it was good, great. If it was bad, it would be a waste of time—but at least Mariah could tell herself she had given it a fair shot.

Basically: what was the worst that could happen?

That was how, the very next afternoon, Mariah found herself in Dr. Cerulean’s office, trying to distract herself from her anxiety by carefully inspecting the weird pineapple lamp on Dr. Cerulean’s desk. Dressed exactly as they had been the day before, the psychiatrist regarded Mariah with a bland smile on their blue lips as they invited her to sit down opposite them.

“So, um,” Mariah said, shifting uncomfortably. “How do we get started?”

“First things first,” Dr. Cerulean told her, “I have a few release forms for you to sign. Standard stuff, really. No need to read them too carefully.”

They handed Mariah a small stack of papers. Cautiously, Mariah started scanning the first. It seemed, as promised, entirely standard. Non-disclosure, liability, that kind of thing. After signing it, she moved on to the second, then the third, and quickly stopped bothering to read much of the legal jargon. On the very last form, though, something caught her eye.

“Wait a minute,” Mariah said. “This is a release authorizing you to… write online fiction about me?”

Quickly, Dr. Cerulean reached over the deck and snatched away the piece of paper. “Oops,” she replied languidly. “Bit of a mix-up. My mistake. Don’t worry about it. You can sign that one later.”

Later? Mariah frowned. Was that some kind of joke? It had to be. Dr. Cerulean certainly looked like they were finding humor in something—but it was in seriously poor taste.

“There we go.” Dr. Cerulean stretched one of their long arms across to retrieve the other release forms. They sat back in their chair and regarded Mariah carefully. “To begin with, why don’t you just tell me what brought you to the support group?”

Again, Mariah considered refusing. Again, she reminded herself: she needed to give this a shot.

“I… I just feel like I can’t move forward,” Mariah began slowly. She fixed her eyes on the floor, hoping that would be less awkward. “You know? I see all these people going about their daily lives. Pursuing careers. Pursuing other people. Pursuing happiness. And it just seems completely impossible to me. Like I can’t even fathom it—even though I used to be just like them. I can ever remember her—that old version of me. The one who wasn’t… who wasn’t broken. I want to be her again so bad. I just… can’t remember how.”

She looked up. Mariah’s voice was already a little choked up from the emotions she was describing. She was hoping, perhaps, for a kind word or a kind smile.

Instead, Dr. Cerulean wasn’t even looking at her. They had a pencil in their hand, and they were trying to spin it cleanly on the joint between their thumb and their hand. After a particularly vigorous spin, it slipped away from them and clattered against the top of the desk.

“Dr. Cerulean?” Mariah ventured plaintively.

Dr. Cerulean let out a breath that was very close to a sigh, and then their brow twitched in a way that made Mariah think, just for a moment, that they were going to roll their eyes. Then, though, a smile—only a little forced—came to Dr. Cerulean’s blue lips.

“Why don’t we start at the beginning?” Dr. Cerulean suggested. “What actually happened to you?”

“Oh. Right.” That made sense to Mariah, even if she wished Dr. Cerulean sounded a little more patient about it. She gathered her courage. Talking about what had befallen her didn’t come easy. “A couple of years ago, I-I was in a relationship. With a guy. Robert. We were engaged, I actually. I thought we were going to spend our entire lives together.”

“Uh-huh.” The look of boredom still hadn’t disappeared from Dr. Cerulean’s face.

“I had recently started a new job,” Mariah recounted, voice trembling. “As a PA—a personal assistant. I spoke to my boss about taking some time off for the wedding. Mrs. Lawrence. She, um, didn’t like that idea. She’d always been kind of… controlling, I guess. A… a bully.” She struggled to say it, even though it was true. “She told me she required my services. Didn’t want me to focus on the needs of anyone besides her.”

“Oh?” Those big, sunken eyes on Dr. Cerulean’s face were starting to perk up a little. “What then?”

“I threatened to quit.” Mariah squeezed her eyes tight shut. “So she mind-controlled me.”

Mariah heard a small, wet sound from a short distance away. When she opened her eyes, Dr. Cerulean’s lips were damp, and they had taken up their notepad.

“Tell me more about that,” the psychiatrist prompted.

“She started taking over every aspect of my life,” Mariah whispered. “The way I looked, talked, dressed, and how-“

“No, no,” Dr. Cerulean interrupted eagerly, waving a hand. “How did she mind control you?”

“Um.” Mariah was taken aback by the question. “What do you mean?”

“Well, is she a psychic?” Dr. Cerulean raised a hand and started counting methods on her fingers. “Psychoactive spores? Big ray gun? Good ‘ol hypnotist? Some kind of succubus?”

“She, um,” Mariah replied slowly. “She had one of those… toys on her desk. You know, with the row of balls hanging on strings?”

“A Newton’s cradle!” For the first time, Dr. Cerulean sounded faintly delighted. “Hold on.”

Dr. Cerulean reached under their desk and started rummaging around in a box that seemed to contain a truly preposterous quantity and variety of strange objects. Mariah watched, confused then horrified, as Dr. Cerulean plucked out one of them and set it upon their desk.

It was a Newton’s cradle.

“Um…” Mariah was transfixed by the object. “That’s… c-can you…”

Dr. Cerulean took one of the metal balls between their thumb and forefinger, lifted it, and let it swing.

The metallic tap as it hit against the next reverberated through Mariah’s entire being.

“D-Dr. Cerulean,” Mariah stammered. She was hot and cold. She could feel herself sweating. She could feel herself sinking. “C-c-could you p-put that away, p-please?”

“What, this?” Dr. Cerulean seemed faintly surprised as they leaned back easily in their chair. “But it’s just a little toy.”

“But…” Mariah was about to say something else, but the tapping of the Newton’s cradle broke about her words before they could form. She was left blubbering the word over stupidly. “B-but…”

“Mariah,” Dr. Cerulean tutted. “It’s important for you to understand that this is just a commonplace object. It’s acquired a certain psychological character in your mind as a trigger, but that’s something that you’re imbuing onto the world. Aren’t you afraid that you’re just reinforcing the scars of your own trauma? We need to push past our fears. If you continue to treat this toy with significance, it will become more and more significant to you.”

Dr. Cerulean sounded every bit the consummate professional as they rattled off the argument in their quick but monotonous voice. The words crested over Mariah like a wave. She had no rebuttal. Dr. Cerulean was the psychiatrist, after all.

And Mariah really, really couldn’t think straight with the Newton’s cradle tap, tap, tapping away on the desk.

“OK,” she said quietly, eventually.

“Very good.” Beyond the Newton’s cradle, Mariah could see a smile forming on Dr. Cerulean’s face. “Desensitization through exposure therapy is a key element of recovery. Go on.”

“Go… on?” Exposure therapy? Mariah still couldn’t look away from the Newton’s cradle. She couldn’t stop shaking. But if it was part of her recovery…

“Tell me what your boss did to you.”

“Mrs. Lawrence,” Mariah said slowly, “made me break up with my boyfriend.”

As they took notes, Dr. Cerulean made a little noise that might have been the beginnings of a laugh. “Of course.”

“B-but it’s more than that.” Mariah wasn’t sure that she wanted to talk about it, really. But she had no choice. It just came out of her—because she was looking at the Newton’s cradle, and Dr. Cerulean was telling her to speak. “She… s-she made…” Her voice broke. “She made me g-gay.”

Abruptly, Dr. Cerulean sat forward. For the first time, Mariah felt the full weight of the psychiatrist’s attention.

“Oh wow,” Dr. Cerulean remarked, with an ominous delight they slowly brought back under wraps. “That’s… really something. How did that go?”

“It’s awful,” Mariah moaned. “It’s not… I’m s-straight. I’ve always been straight. But when I looked at her—when I look at other women—I can’t help but feel it. And it feels so… so dirty.”

“Of course,” Dr. Cerulean agreed, scribbling at their notepad. “Something as fundamental as your sexuality has been made completely alienating to you.” They sat forward, leering. “It must be maddening. Feeling like your desire and your memory are at war. Not knowing which one you can trust. Not knowing which one is really you.”

Mariah nodded slowly. It was exactly like that. She was so glad Dr. Cerulean understood—but at the same time, hearing it said out loud with such bluntness felt awful.

“Tell me more,” the psychiatrist beckoned. “Tell me everything.”

Mariah’s vision was starting to narrow. She made one great effort to tear her attention away from the Newton’s cradle—and couldn’t. She could feel herself losing focus. Losing wakefulness. It was just the way it had been back then. Her shaking worsened, but it wasn’t enough to jostle her from trance’s reaching fingertips.

“I… I…” Dr. Cerulean’s words conjured the very deepest, most awful truths from Mariah’s drowning mind. “I tried… to go back to him, after they arrested her. I knew she’d get out on bail, but it gave me enough time to c-come back to my senses. I went back to him, but… b-but I just couldn’t stand it. I c-couldn’t look at him the same. And when he touched me, I…”

There was a loud noise as Dr. Cerulean slapped their thigh. Mariah jumped, but even that wasn’t enough to break her focus.

“Wait, you tried to go straight back to your old life?” they wheezed. “Wow, yeah, no, don’t do that! You didn’t give yourself any breathing room. No time to process what had happened to you. You tried to force yourself back into an old groove, and then when you couldn’t, I bet you felt more broken than ever! Rookie mistake, seriously.”

Dr. Cerulean’s barely disguised amusement bothered Mariah, but not as much as it should have. She simply couldn’t think straight. Each loud tap as one of the balls of the Newton’s cradle impacted against its neighbor was overwhelming. As much as she wanted to get up and leave, Mariah’s legs wouldn’t obey her. The most she could do was point at the Newton’s cradle with a weak, trembling hand.

“Please,” she blubbered. “P-p-please make it stop. P-please. I can’t… I c-can’t…”

“Oops.” Beyond the cradle, Mariah could see that Dr. Cerulean’s tired, sunken eyes had become bright and leering. “Now you’re on the verge of a full-blown relapse, aren’t you? It looks like you really are that fragile. Well, it makes sense. Recounting your traumatic experiences while being exposed to an explicit reminder of your victimhood will do that to you. Not very recovered after all, huh?”

Mariah shook her head numbly as tears welled up in her eyes. She could see it so clearly now. She wasn’t recovered at all. She hadn’t moved forward even one inch since getting free. She was small. She was weak.

“Tell me,” Dr. Cerulean asked, “what are you so afraid of? You’re shaking like a leaf."

“I-I don’t want to hurt people again,” Mariah blurted out.

Dr. Cerulean set down their notepad and planted their hands on the desk, palms vertical, the tips of their fingertips pressed together. Mariah could feel those long fingers reaching into her. Peeling her open. Prying her secrets apart.

“Who did you hurt, Mariah?” Dr. Cerulean asked.

Mariah had never told anybody about that—but she couldn’t lie. Not here. Not now. Not with the Newton’s cradle. Mrs. Lawrence had always drilled that into her. Tell the truth.

“I h-helped her take other girls,” Mariah whispered. “Anybody who caught her eye. I m-made appointments with them. P-put things in their drinks. Sometimes she even m-made me hold them, so they’d keep looking at the…” She choked back a sob. “Mrs. Lawrence made me t-talk to them. Condition them. D-d-discipline them.”

“Fascinating,” Dr. Cerulean said softly. “You must feel so guilty.”

“Yes!” The word erupted out of Mariah. It was all she could think about, every hour of every day.

“Of course,” Dr. Cerulean agreed softly. “You feel as though you were forced, outside of your own control, to commit acts that horrify you and compromise your sense of self. I think it’s crucial that we begin to reframe this.”

Mariah nodded slowly. She could do nothing else.

“Did you know that-“ Dr. Cerulean interrupted herself with a kind of gleeful chuckle. “Did you know that you cannot be hypnotized into doing anything that you don’t want to do?”

“Um.” Mariah blinked and swayed unsteadily. “W-what?”

No. That wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true.

“Oh yes,” Dr. Cerulean insisted. “Hypnosis is just a little mind trick, really. It’s a way of lowering your inhibitions and suppressing your conscious mind, but do you really believe that it would make you a complete and total slave to whoever’s doing it to you? Lowering inhibitions simply implies the removal of a barrier to your true desires.”

“No.” Mariah shook her head violently. “N-no. No way. That’s… you’re…”

“Think about it,” Dr. Cerulean pressed, thin blue lips now stretched into a leering grin. “How did you feel when your boss used you sexually?”

Mariah flinched. “I-it felt good, but that’s only because she made-“

“Accepting our sexualities is often a battle,” Dr. Cerulean said agreeably. She made another note in her notepad. “How did you feel when you hurt those other women?”

“Please don’t make me say it,” Mariah begged, trembling. Dr. Cerulean just looked at her. “G-good. But that’s-“

“Of course.” The psychiatrist nodded. “Violence. Exercising power. It may be unpleasant, but it appeals to the baser parts of our natures. That’s a huge part of any form of so-called mind control. It provides a nice, convenient excuse for us to exercise desires we might normally feel the need to repress. And how about whenever you were ‘forced’ to obey your boss?”

Obey. That word lit a fuse in Mariah’s head.

“Obey,” she muttered. “Obey. O-obey. Obey. Obey. Obey.”

Normally, she was better than this. She could keep it under wraps. Not today. Not with the Newton’s cradle.

“A mantra!” Dr. Cerulean sounded pleased. “And so easy to trigger, too. This is good. Great, in fact. We’re making a lot of progress. I think we’re really starting to get to the root of your issues.”

“Obey.” Mariah kept repeating it under her breath. Each word gave rise to the next, unceasing, until her lungs were empty of air and she was shaking from the effort—but still, she kept going. “Obeyobeyobeyobeyobey.”

“Yes, yes, keep going,” Dr. Cerulean waved an idle hand in her direction. “Exposure therapy is a crucial tool. Remember what we were discussing earlier? You have to take back power from these things. You can’t keep making them special in your head. Repetition is a great way to do that.”

There was something soothing about hearing that. Mariah started easing into the mantra, letting her mind settle. She just needed to trust Dr. Cerulean. Her obedient liturgy was starting to make her feel calm again. Just like it always had with Mrs. Lawrence.

“Now, what was I saying?” Dr. Cerulean mused. “Oh, that’s right. Hypnosis. You really must consider what I’m saying. Perhaps the reason you’ve found all of this so difficult is that your boss was tapping into some of your deeply held repressed desires. Forcing you to confront them. Forcing you to accept the way they make you feel.”

“Obey,” Mariah panted. “Obey. Obey. Obey.”

“Obviously that’s just one way to conceptualize your experience,” Dr. Cerulean continued. “It might not sound right to you, but that’s where reframing comes in. At the end of the day, Mariah, you need to make a choice about what kind of narrative you want to fit onto your life. Ultimately, that’s all our egos amount to. They’re stories we tell about ourselves to find a semblance of security and comfort in our day-to-day lives. Which story flatters you the most? Which story brings you the most comfort? We need to help you answer that question so that you can find a degree of fulfillment.”

“Obey… obey… obey…” Mariah was slowing now, as the mantra drove all the way down to a deeper layer of hypnotism, leaving her in a place so dark and still even speaking was too much effort for her.

“Enough of that now,” Dr. Cerulean instructed dismissively. “You want control, don’t you Mariah? Think about it: which narrative makes you feel in control? Which one will help you reclaim your life?”

Mariah’s eyelids fluttered as she bent her mind to the question. When they were open, she could see Dr. Cerulean, lurking beyond the Newton’s cradle. When they were closed, she could see Mrs. Lawrence. Her boss. Her brainwasher. It was terrifying—but what if it didn’t have to be? Mariah could remember a time she hadn’t been scared. A time when she’d eagerly obeyed her boss with the eagerness of a docile lamb.

More than ever, she longed for it.

But… that was wrong, wasn’t it?

“I…” Mariah grasped. “No, I… I’m straight?”

Dr. Cerulean shook their head slowly. “You’re a little behind, Mariah. Remember. Narratives. Reframing. Are you really straight? Or is that simply what you’ve always believed? Many queer people suffer from a degree of internalized bigotry, and respond by desperately clinging to a veneer of heteronormativity. I promise you, Mariah. This room is a safe space. You can explore your feelings and desires here.”

Mariah’s mouth opened and closed uselessly. What Dr. Cerulean was telling her didn’t sound right—but then again, Mariah had no idea what would. And the pale psychiatrist sounded so expert. So sure.

“Let’s approach this on a more basic level,” Dr. Cerulean offered. “You need to relearn confidence in your basic drives. It’s important that you proceed without doubting yourself too much. I want you to accept yourself. To embrace your feelings. That’s the only way you can begin to heal. With that in mind, let me ask you: how do you feel about men?”

The Newton’s cradle was coming to rest, but that provided little comfort. As its motion slowed, Mariah felt her thoughts slowing along with it. She was swimming in trance. The word ‘obey’ was still echoing in her head. She couldn’t get beyond her first, strongest response.

“I c-can’t stand them,” she whimpered.

“Good,” Dr. Cerulean said poisonously. “I’m glad you can accept that about yourself. Now, how do you feel about women?”

“I… I…” That question triggered a sudden sunburst of emotion in Mariah’s head. Ideas, impulses, and beliefs all poured into her, each one pulled by a thread that was a memory or a sensation. They awakened something in her, something that burst past her lips in a wet, needy ejaculation. “I-I belong on my knees for women!”

“Another mantra?” Dr. Cerulean leered. “Interesting. It seems like we’re making a lot of progress here. As I told you, I want you to have confidence in your feelings and desires. So please, don’t stop yourself. Do whatever it is that feels most right to you. Whatever makes you feel comfortable in the moment.”

A great weight was pressing down on Mariah’s shoulders. Simply sitting in her chair felt so nauseatingly wrong, she couldn’t bear it. The only thing that seemed comfortable was slipping out of it, down onto her knees beneath Dr. Cerulean’s desk. The cold, uncomfortable floor welcomed her with the familiarity of a well-worn mattress.

“Fascinating,” Dr. Cerulean mused. “At the risk of moving a little too fast, perhaps we should try a little word association. That can be a very useful way to uncover the real roots of psychological issues. So, Mariah: you belong on your knees for women?”

Mariah choked back another sob as the words flowed out of her. “I b-belong on my knees for women. A good secretary’s place is under the desk. I l-love to be at women’s feet. I belong on my knees for… for women. A good secretary’s p-place is under the desk. I… I… hng… I love to be at women’s feet!”

Her stomach was a noxious cauldron. An iron pall of palpitating nausea sat inside her. The sense of anxious danger that had haunted her for months now was frothing like never before. But above it sat a thick, dense, smothering fog that whispered to her: this was all good. It was right. It was her place.

Mariah was trying to listen to the danger-sense. She was failing. It was too painful. She just wanted to stop thinking.

“It stands out to me that your set of associations ends with a reference to women’s bodies.” Mariah heard Dr. Cerulean’s voice from above, as the strange psychiatrist sat back calmly in their chair. That was another thing she was used to. “That may be the key to your desires, Mariah. Listen to them. Show me what comes next.”

As they spoke, Dr. Cerulean slowly slipped out of her shoes, using each one to pry the other off. Underneath, they were wearing a strange pair of pineapple socks; yellow and patterned on the lower part, and leaf-green around their ankles. Their socks, though, weren’t what had caught Mariah’s attention. She was distracted by the simple fact that she was in her place, under a desk, and an authoritative woman was looming over her with their feet dangling in her face.

Mariah followed her desires. She did what came naturally to her. With tears still in her eyes, lips still mouthing the words Mrs. Lawrence had imprinted on her mind, she reached out and began massaging Dr. Cerulean’s feet.

Dr. Cerulean let out a glib chuckle, then sighed contentedly. “Look at you now. You’re under the desk, repeating your mantras, looking for another woman’s feet to worship. A complete and total relapse! How unfortunate.”

“I… I… I-I…” Another sob threatened to rip loose from Mariah’s throat. She wanted to speak, to argue, to apologize, to beg, but she already knew that if she tried, the only thing that would come out was her boss’s mantra.

A relapse. It was the rock-bottom Mariah had been afraid of for so long. All the urges she had been fighting to hold in check were oozing out. She was on her knees again. She was languishing in the pit of her own awful, dirty, lustful feelings about women. It felt awful. It felt like home.

“I know, I know,” Dr. Cerulean agreed. “It’s tough. But what do I keep telling you about, Mariah? Reframing! It’s an essential tool. Consider: what if this isn’t relapsing? What if this is simply who you are?”

Whatever part of Mariah might have wanted to push back against that had been broken into silence. As Mariah trembled and sobbed and eagerly, expertly pushed her thumbs against the soles of Dr. Cerulean’s feet, it seemed impossible to deny. Wasn’t this who she was? Wasn’t what she was doing right now the proof?

“It’s up to you, of course,” Dr. Cerulean added. “This is all about your wellbeing, Mariah. You’re perfectly free to define the goals of your own therapy. The perspectives I’m offering you are nothing more than food for thought. So, what do you think?”

As she knelt there, Mariah thought about what it would mean if she insisted upon her need for recovery and healing. It would mean more months of therapy and counseling, of twitchiness and jitteriness, of viewing herself, first and foremost, as a victim. It would mean looking over her shoulder for Mrs. Lawrence everywhere she went, and constantly guilt and shame whenever she found herself glancing at another woman. It would mean perhaps years of slowly building herself back up so she could learn to trust again, so she could reclaim her sexuality on her own terms—hell, so she could even work in an office again.

It was too much.

Just like that, Mariah gave up.

“Y-you’re right, Dr. Cerulean.” Mariah’s voice was still trembling desperately, but as she spoke, a haunted grin came to her face. “T-thinking about how I really feel… I guess it’s o-obvious. I’m j-just a lesbian.”

“Interesting,” Dr. Cerulean remarked. They sounded like they were beginning to crack up laughing. “And all those things you did for your boss?”

Mariah let out a twitchy laugh too. “I j-just did those things for Mistress because I wanted to.”

“Very interesting. Even hurting those other women?”

The noise that erupted from Mariah’s throat was a sob and a laugh in equal measure. “Y… y-yes. That’s right. I w-w-wanted to.”

“My goodness,” Dr. Cerulean sounded like she was fighting to suppress a moan as Mariah gave in. “That’s quite the breakthrough.”

Mariah wanted to. She wanted to serve her boss because she was a submissive lesbian. She wanted to hurt other women for her mistress because it turned her on. It was that simple. She was that simple.

“Why don’t you sit back up here?” Dr. Cerulean suggested. “One question: what do you think about the way your boss hypnotized you?”

As Mariah came up from under the desk, she glanced at the Newton’s cradle sitting on the psychiatrist’s desk. It had long since come to rest, but the sight of it still made her stomach churn.

“M-Mistress knows what’s best for me,” Mariah bleated, forcing her nausea down. Forcing herself to fall back on what her boss had taught her. “Mistress thinks for me b-better than I can.”

Dr. Cerulean sat forward as they let out a great, wheezing chuckle. “Let me get this straight,” they said. “Do you imagine that your boss knew that you were a lesbian all along, and was simply pushing you to accept it?”

A tear trickled down Mariah’s cheek. “Y-y-yeah.” She made herself believe it.

“Wow,” Dr. Cerulean remarked, and shrugged. “Well, yeah, that certainly sounds plausible to me. No issues there. We discussed your internalized homophobia earlier. I suppose being forced to confront that must have caused a kind of backlash. Very unfortunate.”

“R-right.” Mariah sat bolt upright in the chair as she felt compulsion snap tight around her like a collar on her neck. “Oh my god. I n-need to go back to Mistress. I need to find her again.”

“Oh yes?” Dr. Cerulean leaned forward intently. “And why’s that?”

Mariah’s happy, grateful smile was so wide. She wasn’t sure why she couldn’t seem to stop crying. “I need to apologize. I need to b-b-beg for her forgiveness.”

Tears were welling up in Dr. Cerulean’s eyes too—but only because they were fighting so hard to keep a tight rein on their mirth. “That sounds great!” the psychiatrist agreed. “Rebuilding the bridges we burn during moments of crisis can be so important. And far be it from me to keep you any longer—although I’d love to schedule a follow-up in a few weeks’ time. Just so I can, ah, see how you’re getting on.”

Mariah nodded eagerly. She was so thankful to Dr. Cerulean for helping her get her head on straight. Really, it was the least she could do.

As Dr. Cerulean stood up to see Mariah out, they carelessly set down on their desk the small notepad they had been taking notes on. With it face up, Mariah could see a few of the choice comments Dr. Cerulean had made:

‘BOOOORING I’m so sad blah blah blah’ ‘messing with her orientation? nice lol’ ‘dig for mantras?’ ‘oh she’s COOKED cooked.’ ‘amazed someone else hasn’t scooped her up already’ ‘regular follow-ups? the massage is pretty good’

Mariah decided to ignore them. She decided they had to be about somebody else. Fortunately, Dr. Cerulean distracted her from it by sliding another piece of paper across the desk.

“Now, about that release?” the psychiatrist asked politely. “I think this could be really great material for a fic. I can see getting a lot of Ao3 kudos for this one.”

With a tight, harrowed, unsteady, haunted grin on her tear-stained face, Mariah obediently signed her name and then hurried back to return to her life as a brainwashed, submissive, lesbian secretary. As she left, Dr. Cerulean leaned back in their chair and slipped their hand down the front of their pants.

“All in a day’s work,” Dr. Cerulean murmured to themself. “Now, let me see if I can finish before my five o’clock.”

—

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[junkissed]

taste like gold

★ | member — bf!mingyu x bf!woozi x f reader ★ | genre — smut, established poly relationship ★ | word count — 2.8k

★ | synopsis — jihoon's favorite way to unwind? a shower. mingyu's favorite way? a shower with jihoon.

★ | warnings — descriptions of female anatomy, dom!jihoon, sub!mingyu, sorta sub!reader. shower sex (no piv), blowjob (m), masturbation (m), edging (m), kissing (reader x gyu), cum in mouth/on face, some praise, nicknames (gyu: puppy, boyfriend, baby / reader: darling, girlfriend, baby). this is a poly fic so all three of them are in a relationship ★ | notes — a very late birthday/very early xmas present for my wonderful @onlymingyus ! i've been teasing her with this for a while so i hope you like it <3 if i had a nickel for every time i wrote a poly mingyu bathroom smut fic for mars i'd have two nickels which isn't a lot but weird that it happened twice? this fic contains mxm themes. you are responsible for the content you consume: don't like, don't read. if you're not comfortable reading then this isn't for you. i wrote this for mars because she is poly; if you do like it, she writes a lot of poly fics so i highly recommend checking out her blog! as always: feedback, asks, and reblogs with comments are super super appreciated and help me keep writing :) merry yaoi-mas everybody

it’s been yet another long day for mingyu.

he spends his precious time running around, errand after errand, phone calls and emails and meetings, and he despises it all. he has a better place to be: at home, with the two people he loves more than anything in the world. he hates being away, because every second spent away from you and jihoon is a second wasted. 

every day it gets harder and harder to leave in the morning knowing he has another tiresome, monotonous schedule ahead, with the only reprieve the promise of returning home to both of you in the evening.

he tosses his coat over the back of the couch and flips on the kitchen light, the warm yellow glow spilling into the hallway. it’s been a longer day than usual, so he’s not surprised that dinner was eaten without him. without even having to check the refrigerator he already knows you’ve saved him the leftovers: the same worn red tupperware container and a sticky note on top with a sweet message, because that’s what you always do for him. he makes a mental note to update the calendar on the fridge with his dinner reservation for three this weekend, because that’s what he always does for you.

the next things he notices are the bedroom light on, the glow coming from the crack in the doorway, and then the hum of the shower running. he know better by now than to think he’d come home to a quiet house. no matter how many times he tells you not to, even after he protests and pouts because he wants his wonderful boyfriend and girlfriend to get their beauty sleep, he always find at least one of you still awake, patiently waiting for him to join you in bed.

he wanders down the hall, gently tapping on the bedroom door before he creaks it open. you look up from your laptop in bed, and your smile when you see him lights up the room far more than the lamp in the corner.

“jihoon’s in the shower,” you let him know, and he bites his lip, leaning against the doorframe. he doesn’t miss the way your eyes wander over his body, the tight black t-shirt he always wears when he wants your attention, the one he knows makes you jealous even though you swear it doesn’t.

“should we join him?”

jihoon runs his hands through his hair, pushing the long blond strands of his bangs backwards out of his face. his shower at the end of every day is what he looks forward to most, a time to de-stress and prepare himself for another busy day. he’s never been the type of person to enjoy morning showers, but he can’t lie and say that’s the only reason he takes them at night; at night, there’s a better chance that you or mingyu will be home. and although he loves the time alone to think, company never makes it worse.

steam fills the room, surrounding his body in heat and fogging up the mirror. it’s been too long since he’s had you and mingyu all to himself, and the bathroom feels too quiet. it’s hard to coordinate schedules, but he misses the warmth of your voice filling his ears and the bubbly tone of mingyu’s giggles. he needs more than the cold, apathetic sound of water hitting tile.

but then, as if he’d conjured you from a dream, the door suddenly opens and he lifts his head at the noise. his dark eyes settle on your figure as you stand next to mingyu, dwarfed by his larger one.

droplets of water collect in jihoon’s eyelashes as he stares at you, his expression kept neutral as he tries to hold back a smirk. he knew mingyu was working later than usual tonight, so like every other night he wasn’t expecting much. but the sight of you both standing there is a welcome surprise, one that he will never turn down, and he can tell exactly what you’re asking without saying a word.

it’s silent for several seconds as his gaze locks with yours and mingyu’s, as if he’s tempting you to break the eye contact and walk away, to wait for him to cuddle you to sleep like he always does. neither of you do.

“coming?” he finally addresses you both, unable to hold back a grin in anticipation. the look on your faces is almost adorable, how blatantly eager you both are.

you’re the first to respond. you slip off your clothes and let them fall, collecting in a pile on the floor as jihoon slides back the glass door to welcome you in. your movement spurs mingyu into action, and his clothes join yours piece by piece as he strips bare, nearly stumbling over himself in his eagerness to follow you into the shower.

jihoon moves out of the way so mingyu can stand under the stream of water, sandwiching you in between them. your heart races as mingyu draws you in, rivulets of water trickling down his toned chest as his eyes silently roam over your body, and you can’t help but study him in return. 

your gaze drifts again to jihoon, who’s now standing in the corner of the shower looking pleased. you can see the flash of lust in his eyes as mingyu grips you tightly, pulling you closer until you’re standing flush against his body, and the proximity sends a shiver of desire down your spine at the knowledge that jihoon is watching.

“why don’t you take care of him, baby? i’m sure he’s had such a long day.” his tone is low and smooth as he turns his attention to mingyu, who’s been awkwardly pouring soap on a loofah but freezes at the sound of his boyfriend’s voice. jihoon’s head is tilted downwards, his eyes lifted to look up at him through his eyelashes, and even though it’s not directed at you it still makes you shiver with how powerful the look is. “haven’t you, gyu?”

mingyu whimpers at the attention, unable to find the words to responds, and it only confirms in jihoon’s mind how badly he needs this. he glances back at you, your eyes so focused on mingyu that it almost makes jihoon laugh— you need this, too, just as much if not more.

you feel jihoon’s gaze on you, and you manage to pull yourself away from staring at mingyu long enough to catch his nod. you start to reach for him, your hand trailing down the defined muscles of his abdomen, but jihoon tsks out a disapproving noise before your hand can find mingyu’s cock, holding in a bated breath as you wait for instructions.

“you can do better than that, darling. don’t be shy. let him use your mouth.”

you look up at mingyu for confirmation as he nods quickly, unafraid to let his eagerness show, and without another word you drop to your knees in front of him. his eyes widen a little bit in excitement as you position yourself on the floor of the shower. his body blocks the stream of water from the shower, keeping you mostly dry as you watch trails of water race down his thighs.

mingyu reaches down in front of you and uses his hand to pump his cock to full hardness, although he was more than half hard already. jihoon just continues to smile from his spot at the other end of the shower, letting you get situated the way you like.

“go on,” he says once you’re both finally ready, two needy sets of eyes pleading at him and waiting patiently. “make yourself useful, baby. show him how much you love him.”

you turn your gaze back to mingyu with a grin, taking him in your hand as you begin to guide him into your mouth. his cock is thick, so much that you can barely wrap your hand around him, and you have to open your jaw wide to fit his tip inside your mouth. gently, gradually, you sink down further and further on his length, pausing every few seconds to inhale shakily through your nose.

you haven’t even started moving yet but mingyu’s already panting, his hands clenching and unclenching into fists as he struggles to adjust to the warm, tight feeling of your throat around his cock. after a second of turmoil he puts one hand on your head, tangling his fingers in your wet hair with a gentleness that seems out of place compared to his size. he’s always gentle with you, sometimes a little too gentle, but it only takes a word from jihoon to have him roughing you up the way you love.

behind you jihoon lets out a sigh, his gaze fixed on the scene in front of him. he takes his own cock into his hand, his fingers loosely gripping his length as you bob your head over and over again down his boyfriend’s shaft. as much as he likes to actively participate, he’s also content to just watching the two of you please each other, going round after round while he keeps control, relishing in the way both of you hang on his every word. 

you’re both so good to him, and he tightens his hand as he watches you gag around mingyu’s cock, half pretending that it’s your mouth on him instead. but he doesn’t need this as much as mingyu seems to, and to him, watching is more than half the fun. besides, there’s plenty of time for himself later, after you’ve taken care of gyu. next time, maybe he’ll bury himself deep in your pussy and make mingyu watch instead. or maybe he’ll let him take you too, because your moans always sound so much sweeter when both your boyfriends are inside of you at once.

mingyu thrusts his hips once, shallowly, experimentally, and you open your mouth wider to let him slide between your lips with ease. you reach up to put your hands on his thigh and squeeze a little, giving him a signal to continue. the veins in his biceps bulge as he squeezes his fingers around your hair, a constant stream of whines pouring from his lips like the shower water that pours down his back. 

“look at him,” jihoon commands, almost in amusement, and you swallow and crane your neck up so you can lift your eyes. the image above you is truly a sight to see, and you can’t help but preen at the sight of mingyu's fucked out expression, his eyes closed and his brows furrowed deeply in concentration as he bucks his hips into you faster.

“he loves your sweet little mouth, doesn’t he?” jihoon urges you on. your fingers dig into mingyu's thick thighs harder in an attempt to stop him from moving so much, but you're useless against him. he's practically fucking your throat, panting out breaths with both hands firmly tangled in your hair to hold your head in place. “whose mouth do you think is better, puppy? mine, or hers?”

“fuck—” mingyu stutters, and you feel his grip on your hair tighten as he struggles to concentrate enough to organize his thoughts. “both. fucking love this mouth, god… hoonie, please—”

“please what?” jihoon says, his voice dominant yet still calm as he watches. “tell her what you want, baby. use that pretty head of yours, hm? use your words, you can do it.”

mingyu groans and scrunches his nose, trying to focus. “wanna— ah, please can i cum? can i cum in your mouth? shit, baby, i'm so close…”

you hum out a sound of acknowledgement around his cock as you glance up at jihoon, but it only makes mingyu groan louder as he feels the vibrations from your throat surrounding his sensitive, aching length. he loves the way you’re both so obedient for him, always asking permission, always being so well-behaved when he’s in charge.

jihoon stays quiet for as long as possible, drawing out the moment until mingyu looks like he's about to cry from the effort of holding back, but he finally breaks and nods. “go ahead, puppy, fill up her mouth. you've earned it. you've been such a good boy for us, love.”

at his words you let out a moan simultaneously as mingyu does, snapping his hips into your mouth a few more times as he chases the high. you try to swallow the spit that’s pooled in your mouth, but the sudden tightening of your throat is what finally sends mingyu over the edge. he pushes his cock as deep into your mouth as he can, gasping and groaning and grunting praises scattered in between cries of your name and jihoon’s.

you can feel his tip throbbing on your tongue with each rope he releases down your throat, filling your mouth until you’re forced to pull away to breathe. the rest of his cum ends up on your face as you lick your lips and swallow the thick substance in your mouth, letting out a gasp of your own as you finally inhale a full breath.

mingyu’s hands in your hair tighten for just a second before he releases you to let you sit back, bracing himself with one large palm flat against the shower wall and the other gripping your shoulder. his neck rolls backwards as he stares up at the ceiling, letting out a whine that reverberates off the tiled walls of the shower and fills the room.

as he leans to the side his body moves from the shower spray, and you shiver as the warm water hits your lower half. drops of water trickle down your neck and between the valley of your breasts, but it’s hard to tell if it’s only from the shower or if it’s sweat.

jihoon releases his length with a wince, letting out a shaky exhale as he offers you his hand. his cock twitches in sensitivity, still fully hard and now aching at the release he denied himself. but he knows you’re not done, and he knows it’ll be well worth it later. mingyu pulls you the rest of the way up, helping you balance against him after kneeling on the hard shower floor for so long.

with barely a second to let you breathe, mingyu leans forward to capture your lips, his deep voice groaning out your name as his arms slide down to sit firmly around your waist. you melt into him, automatically moaning into the kiss, and he greedily swallows your noises until it feels like he’s going to suck the breath right out of your lungs.

he kisses you harder, one hand falling to your hip while the other reaches up to cup your jaw and guide your mouth further into him, his tongue prodding between your lips in a way that makes you feel warm from the inside out. he can taste the remnants of salty bitterness on your tongue, and it only makes him whimper into your mouth in delight.

his eyes are hazy when you finally pull away from the kiss. he pulls you into his chest and holds you tight, your cheek pressed against his warm skin as you feel his heart pounding. his arms are strong around you, his thick muscles sliding around you easily from the water and sweat, one hand holding the back of your head to keep you against him.

mingyu waves his arm and then you feel jihoon behind you, brushing your wet hair off your back so he can leave kisses across your shoulder before moving in closer. jihoon’s hands glide between your bodies, cupping your breasts as he holds you between him and mingyu.

you can feel how hard he still is pressed against your ass, but before you have a chance to say anything, jihoon reaches to flip the water off with a flick of his wrist. the temperature in the bathroom instantly falls at the loss of the hot water, but with the two men around you it’s barely even noticeable.

jihoon is the first to let go, sliding back the glass door and stepping onto the bath mat to start handing out towels, and mingyu is suddenly very, very grateful that he doesn’t have work tomorrow because it’s clear that none of you will be getting any sleep until dawn. but there’s nowhere else in the world he’d rather be right now, clean and comfortable and happy with the two people he loves more than anything.

© junkissed 2024. do not repost or translate. ── ⊹ ˙ . 𖥻 want to be notified when i post new fics? join my taglist!

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, please reblog or leave a comment or an ask! it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! i put a lot of time, love, and effort into my writing, so feedback is really appreciated and motivates me to keep posting :) thanks for reading!!

taglist — located in the replies

[hazelfoureyes]

I just need you to know this story has had me in a chokehold and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I am enjoying writing it. This is gonna be a weird smutty slow burn, so still smut every post but full p in v sex will be a reward you have to work for?

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

Part 1 - Pretty in Redsmut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedysmut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things Part 10 - Good Deeds Part 11 - Caught Part 12 - Eddie

A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.

「warnings/tags: HumanAlastor x FemaleReader, implied attempt to SA, fingering, plot with porn?, Multi part work, bad kind of choking, blood kink, blood licking, just in general blood, Non-Sex repulsed Ace Spectrum Alastor, stalking, murder obvs, finger sucking, smoking kinda kills if you squint, Public sex acts, garter belt, You have a stage name but no one important uses it, Greed, Lust, Human Alastor is a little different than Demon Alastor. 」

minors dni 💅🏽

Part 1 Pretty in Red

The marriage between burlesque and jazz wasn’t unexpected. Before the Great Depression took the nation into a stranglehold, both Jazz and Burlesque were immoral wastes of time only the most barbaric sought out.

And oh, did you love it. Everyone who was made to feel like nobody flocked to your theater and the surrounding neighborhood. Men, women, the people who didn’t agree with either. The biblically inclined, those closer to sodom, the sapphic dolls. Everyone was equal in the halls of jazz rooms and theatres where burlesquers were welcome.

Because of the inclusive nature of such places, you often saw familiar faces. It wouldn’t be unusual for someone from Thursday night to be seen Saturday at a different locale.

That presented certain opportunities and challenges. When you found a good mark, it was easy to be wherever he was and play it off as fate and common interests.

And when you gained a new stalker, someone wanting a personal show, it could be hard to tell until it was too late. 

Maybe it was your greed, or just your love of attention, but you found yourself focused almost entirely on a particularly well dressed man one evening. You’d seen him around before. Clean cut, sharp suit, a welcoming smile always on display. He looked like he had money, the most attractive quality of any man you could meet.

So focused on his gleaming stare from the side booths you hadn’t noticed the man at the stage front tables. You barely noticed him the night before, or the night before that, either. Because Smiles, as you took to calling the handsome stranger in the back, had been here three nights now too.

You really put on a show. Shimmying your hips, ostrich feathers following suit with every move. Your brassiere was heavy with shining rhinestones, panties of silk and lace. Your set was almost done, all that was left was to remove your top and slink away behind the curtains to hollers and whistles. Back turned, you unhooked the painful bra and let it fall to the stage with a clunk. Foot in front of foot, you stalked the stage length. With your hand hidden from view you took the feathered fan from the stagehand behind the curtain. As the music crescendoed you turned, fan unfurling just in time to hide yourself.

Groans, mass begging from the audience. Your stage name a chant now, a prayer. “Autumn! Come on!”

As the band slowed, music dying to mark the end of your number, you scanned the crowd. Eyes blinking coyly, you mouthed, “More? Did you want more?”

People were jumping to their feet, not Smiles but that was fine, you were focused now on the adoration of the crowd. The music ended, a second of silence. 

You winked, the drums hitting one last beat as you let the fan close.

Fanfare! Men whistling, women clapping. Someone shouted a marriage proposal. You took a bow, twirled on the balls of your feet and slipped gracefully behind the curtains.

Your hands wound to your spine, rubbing blood flow back into your skin as the staff removed your headdress. Someone slipped your robe over you and you nodded a thanks, aching feet carrying you to the dressing room. It was chaos, as usual. Women buzzing around, tits and ass here and there. You smiled. You happened to enjoy this part of the job. Soft bodies in shiny costumes, lovely smells and sweet voices. If you could get dressed quickly enough, you could still take a tour of the room and slide into Smiles’ booth. 

“Enjoy the show?” You’d ask. He’d lean in, maybe blush, “Always when you’re here.” Or something like that. You’d cozy up to him, flag down a waiter for something strong and pricey, and get him properly drunk. He’d wake up outside, fine and dandy except his missing cash. 

You’ll call him a drunkard if he confronts you, accuse him of getting himself robbed after you refused his advances. You’ll say it too loudly, and he’ll run off. 

You danced a little in your seat, another game of cat and mouse about to commence. But first, a smoke.

Unbeknownst to you, the well dressed man hadn’t come to see you. He preferred your singing shows at the little dive bar two blocks over. No, he had come for the man at the front table. For weeks now, he had watched him harassing the ladies of the few joints in New Orleans that weren’t regularly hounded by police. Your smiley mark even heard stories of unsavory acts, many women leaving the dance scene entirely after.

He didn’t care for it. He didn’t care for him. So he took to his hunt, following the man to come to his own conclusions. The pattern of behavior was obvious, and though he hadn’t seen what ended the last obsession, it was clear one of the performers at this club was being stalked as the next victim. 

He watched your dance with half lidded eyes, just as much as he watched the man give dirty looks to the other men cheering. Heard the, “Marry me!” shouted at you.

Yes, it was obvious to him now. 

So when the target of his interest got up and pushed his way into a staff only door, well, the well dressed man was sure to follow. 

The great thing about confidence and a nicely tailored suit is that no one questions you about why you are where you are. So while the brute he tailed had to shove past people to get wherever he was going, people smiled and made room for the gentleman who was not far behind.

He caught the street access door before it closed, allowing it to stay open just a sliver. Enough for one golden brown eye to watch the events unfold.

“Can I have a light?” The stranger asked you. You looked at him, then to the staff only entrance he just came out of. 

“I don’t think I know you….,” you handed him the lighter but he instead leaned into you, cigarette hanging from his lips. “You… new?”

You sparked the flint with a practiced thumb, taking three tries to get it lit, and put your hand out. The man didn’t budge, eyebrows rising, “You really don’t recognize me?” He asked, motioning with his hand to come closer. Your eyes glanced down the alley, cars slowly moving past the street. When you looked back, the man took your wrist in his hand. He held you so tightly that the muscles in your palm locked and you dropped the lighter. 

“What the fu-,” his hand came across your face, halting your sentence.

“I’m your best customer. Every show. I’m the one who brings flowers.”

Dozens of men bring flowers, especially on the weekend shows. You held your cheek, skin burning. Your hand pulled back, the corner of your lip bleeding from his rings. Scrambling, your mind was searching for the right words.

With a forced smiled, your shaky voice finally piped up, “Oh! Yeah! Oh geez. I am so sorry, doll. I’m just so tired, and the alley is so dark. Here, let’s go inside so I can get a better look at you.” You tried to take your wrist from him but he didn’t loosen up.

“Nah, you ain’t tricking me. You owe me.” He pulled you into him, large hand gripping your face with ease, “You can’t lead on men like this and think you don’t gotta answer for it.” He kissed you, forcing your face into his. “Bitch! Did you fucking bite me?” He threw you into the tin trash cans beside the wall, knocking the wind out of you. 

No purse, no sharp object, not even a heeled shoe to defend yourself with. You cursed, so preoccupied with Smiles you forgot your wits.

You spit out the copper saliva, his blood and yours. “I’ll keep biting, too.” 

Why scream? The sounds of the next act were bouncing off the brick walls. Upbeat jazz and applause echoing around you. No one would hear you. Men can break your body but you never had to give them your dignity. Never give them the satisfaction of a response.

No. No screaming. You instead spent your energy trying to get to your feet. He took hold of your neck now, throttling you. It wasn’t what you had expected, but as he lifted you off the ground and your little dressing room slippers fell off, you thought this was actually better. 

“Well I think that’s quite enough.”

You felt warmth, then registered wetness. Your shin scraped on the asphalt as you were dropped without warning. Trying to open your eyes, you found you couldn’t see. Wiping and blinking away the foreign liquid, you watched your attacker fall to his knees.

Blood was shooting from between his fingers around his own neck, each pulse becoming weaker and weaker, evident through the stream.

When he finally fell over, drained, you were startled to see another man with you. The light reflected off his glasses as he adjusted them, the knife still in his right hand as he did so. 

“My, my. What a mess he’s made.” The man smiled down at you, offering a hand. When you didn’t immediately react, he cocked his head to the left, “Is that anyway to treat your rescuer?”

Is that was this was? A rescue? You took his hand with both of yours, pulling yourself up. 

Smiles? You blinked away the shock, time to shift into your next part. Damsel. You weren’t out the woods yet.

“You saved my life!” As you pressed yourself into his chest, you tucked your head beneath his chin. You tried to make yourself small. “I owe you! Please let’s go inside, drinks on me!” You looked up, batting your lashes.

“I don’t think that’s wise, dear.” His gaze panned down your dress, soaked through. He could see the thinking behind your eyes.

“No, right….,” You gripped his vest, “We gotta get outta here, fast. There’s a hotel just behind the threatre.” You started to pull his suit jacket off, slipping it over yourself. “No cops, the theatre will get raided. Just— take me somewhere safe?”

You watched him look you over, arm finally extending to let you hook yours with his. 

As soon as the hotel door closed behind you, you slipped off his jacket and ran to the dressing table mirror. 

Your face was painted red, navy dress now black and sticky. It was good you stayed from view of the reception staff. “I didn’t get my rescuer’s name,” you licked your thumb and rubbed at the blood around your cheeks. 

“Alastor. It’s a pleasure.”

You laughed, “Is that what you call a pleasure?” Turning, you pulled the mostly still dry handkerchief from your pocket and dabbed the corner on your tongue. You brought it up to the frame of his glasses and wiped the blood from the metal. “I’d hate to see what you call a bad time.”

Your hand slowed, noticing the way he was looking at you. Typically men’s pupils were blown when they fell on you, but his were constricted. They flitted around your face. His hand took hold of yours, fingers separating the thumb from the handkerchief. He pulled the little square of yellow fabric free with his other hand, allowing him to hold your thumb now by itself.

His lips opened, tongue licking the blood stained finger before placing it directly into his mouth.

Your stared, horrified, as he sucked the digit clean. 

His eyes fluttered close, finger popping out of his mouth with a debauched sound. You made no attempt to take back your hand. The realization you may have hopped out of the frying pan and into the fire set in.

“You are a funny one, aren’t you?” You tried to sound as in control as possible. Calm. Unwavered. Offered a timid smile. 

He chuckled, “You could say that. May I?” His fingers lifted your chin. You didn’t know what he was asking. His soft smile looked downright loving. He smelled so good, notes of something earthy rising above the copper.

You nodded, because part of you wanted to see where it would go. And part of you thought you didn’t have a choice.

As his face came to yours, you instinctually closed your eyes expecting a kiss. But no, instead you felt his tongue wipe across the cut at the corner of your mouth. His breath blanketed your cheek. Then his hand left your chin, the warmth of his body gone entirely. 

You opened your eyes to see him at the door, slipping back into his jacket, “I’ll pay for the night.” He tipped his head to you and exited the room back first, eyes locked with yours until the door closed.

You just stood there in the silence left behind. But as if on cue, the adrenaline waned and your knees buckled under you. You were moments from death, now somehow spared. But what had he— Alastor, been doing there? Did he follow you, too? The cat and mouse had been flipped, or perhaps now this was a fox and hound?

Gripping the dressing table, you pulled yourself up and into the view of the mirror again. Face streaked in dried blood save for the one clean spot where your lips met cheek. 

You felt like a ghost the next day. It would be nice to tell someone about what happened but, “Hey a man tried to kill me and then another man killed him! Then he licked blood off my face and I let him. It was the most disturbingly erotic thing to happen to me in months!” would get you tossed into a wagon. 

“Are you rude or just stupid?” The theatre manager pulled you aside by the arm when you came into rehearsal. “You can’t just disappear like that, people were waiting.”

Your eyes narrowed, “Was… my absence really the most exciting part of the evening? Not the John in the gutter?”

He huffed, “So that’s it? Got a beau?”

“Wait— nothing else happened last night? After I left?” 

“This show doesn’t revolve around you. Plenty happened.”

“Excuse me,” you hurried into the back, “And sorry!”

You opened the street access door and looked into the alley. Trash cans neat and tidy, no dead man, nothing strange or telltale.

You ducked back inside. Had Smiles done this? Obviously, actually. No stranger just cleaned up the dead body. If the flatfeet had found him, the club would have been under scrutiny.

Good, you thought, and went about your work.

Rehearsal dragged on. Little details summoning you back to the night before. 

“You okay?” Another performer asked, grabbing your hand and inspecting the blood around your cuticles.

“Oh it’s not mine!” You laughed, she laughed, you walked off before she could clarify.

When applying your makeup, you remembered his hands on your face. They were so soft. Definitely a man of means. A brief intrusive thought, the other hands on your face last night.

You pranced on stage, going through the motions of your routine. Even in the empty hall, your eyes wandered to the booth he’d been in. And as you took the stage in earnest later that night you searched the crowd for the glint of his glasses and found nothing shiny nor promising.

Back in the dressing room you took a moment to wonder what the actual fuck you we’re doing. He murdered a man in front of you, why were you hoping to see him again? He had half a mind to kill you next.

But would that really be so bad?  Your life was routine, boring even. The only thing keeping your lungs expanding was the applause. Maybe the headlines of your death would cause such an uproar, dancer struck down in her prime, that you could bask in the loving glow all the way from hell.

One way to remain famous, you considered. A dramatic death.

Not that you were famous. You weren’t part of the national circuits. Just your local theatres, a common face and body to the sinners of Louisiana’s most infamous city. But, well, fame is relative. For the scene you were in, you were your own little star. 

A shining light. Shimmering. The faint light reflecting off— Blood. For a second you could only remember looking through bloodied, heavy lashes. 

“You’ve been so out of it. Trouble in paradise?” Ruth, the curviest of your coworkers and arguably the favorite of the crew, rested her chin on your head. Looking at each other in the mirror, you offered a soft smile.

“I’ll letcha know when I get there.”

She pinched your cheek, “Tommy said you had a new guy. I just figured-,”

“That isn’t,” you clenched your eyes shut, “no, no guy. I just got locked out last night in the alley. The sticky-,” sticky and viscous blood, “back door wouldn’t open up. I didn’t want to come in the front in my slippers so I just hoofed it home.” 

She patted your head, “if you say so! Be careful out there though. Dangerous these days.” 

An understatement.

You enjoyed the spotlight, but more than that you craved the attention doted on you after. You’d walk through the hall to the bar to adoring looks and free drinks. It bothered you that Tommy was telling the girls you had a man. You didn’t want to appear too closed off, or for word to spread to the customers. 

Last thing you needed was men passing you by for more available options. Not that the pay wasn’t fine. Ends were being met, but grifting added an element of thrill. You really did love the chase. Finding someone and deciding he would be yours, he would fall under your spell and be at your feminine mercy. It made you feel powerful, almost mythical. And the money was nice. Sometimes you didn’t even need to steal, the men would just lavish you in gifts and you’d let it fizzle out naturally. Normally their wives would snatch them back or they’d just get tired of waiting for you to leave the stage and dance into their domestic dreams. A housewife? An adopted mother to a grown man during the day, a hungry nymph at night? For what, an allowance and a home you didn’t own? Pass. Where’s that handsome man with his knife? That was a much better steel to fall onto than what these men offered from their laps.

From your view at the bar you knew he wasn’t there. But with a nod you decided the chase was still on. You were going to get your victory. If anything, this would be easier. You had dirt on him. Blackmail would be simple enough. Bloody clothes and the perfect alibi; being a woman. No cop would think you took down that hulking man. 

Ah, right. There was no body.

That would be an issue. He had to have taken it somewhere. Just find him and follow. Worst case scenario, you play the usual game and steal whatever cash was in his wallet.

Well, worst case you die. 

You slept sitting up to keep your hair set, during the day your makeup barely was there but a red lip always the star. You had three nice dresses (well, you had had four) so you figured three nights to find him before moving on.

You slinked through the crowds of the hot and sweaty dance club Moxie. Swinging music kept bodies moving, and though you kept your eyes open you didn’t catch sight of this Alastor fellow. Which was fine! You enjoyed a few dances, swing always making you feel energized. Not a waste of a Friday night.

Saturday was easy, the lounge on fifth. Smooth jazz, plush chairs, rich men. Definitely a place you could imagine Smiles to frequent. The whisky was all top shelf, and many gentlemen offered you a lap to sit. Sure, no Alastor, but you didn’t go home empty handed.

You weren’t a particularly great singer, but if the room was small enough and the piano loud enough, you could please a crowd. Your friend had you on a semi-set schedule most Sundays at her little dive too many blocks from Main Street. Her darling played piano, you sat and sang to the couple dozen patrons stuffed into the one room bar. When you finished your set, you took your bows and looked for your friend. You needed to tell her you wouldn’t be staying. 

Your polite nods and gracious thank yous were abruptly ended by a tap on your shoulder, “You dropped this, miss.” You did a mental check of your purse before turning around.

“Oh, a sight for sore eyes. Mr. Alastor.” Your face lit up, you could see it in his glasses.

“You’re too kind. Here, I apologize for the delay. I wanted to return them clean.” In his hand was your yellow handkerchief, folded neatly. You took it and found it uncharacteristically heavy. 

When you unfurled it, your brass lighter fell into your waiting palm. Your thumb caressed the engraving. 

Alastor watched your face as the lighter tumbled out. “I figured it was important, given the condition and detailing.”

You tested the weight in your hand, “Did you fill it?” You looked to him incredulously.  He nodded.

It was a surprisingly kind act, and you needed a second to regain your composure. “I don’t know how to thank you.” Your quick wit failed for a moment, but rebounded fast. “Except with a drink. My treat. To my rescuer.”

He mulled the idea, your reaction to him was interesting. Alastor had thought if he approached you first you’d show a little more fear, or shock. But you looked downright chipper to see him there. 

“Unfortunately I don’t have much time tonight. I had just wanted to return your items.”

Your smile dropped. How did he know you were here? Had he been carrying— no, he said he had them cleaned. Had he seen you here before, before the incident? A chuckle, smile brought back, “My luck is terrible. You always flee me. I hope you don’t see my company as deadweight.”

Alastor’s smile twitched, eyes hidden behind the glare of his glasses, “Not at all! I think you’d find I’m quite comfortable with-.”

“Lugging people around?” You said. That constricted pupil again, eyes wild. A chill ran down your spine. Alarms were going off. Wrong answer. You straightened your back, popping the items into your purse, “Next time.”

Alastor nodded, “Yes. Next time, then.”

You fucked it up. You knew you had, but suddenly his words felt like a thinly veiled threat. 

You turned to leave and hadn’t seen his smile sour.

It hadn’t been a threat. He hadn’t anticipated you to notice the implication. Most people would have been so blinded by his charm they would fail to notice the glaring red flags. He was mildly impressed. You would be more trouble than he had expected.

Alastor knew he needed to do something about the clearly clever woman who was seemingly expecting him. He had followed you for several days, surprised to find you not spreading word about the murder. You hadn’t spoken to anyone, really. Even the man you left the lounge with, you just smiled and nodded nearly all evening while the man dominated the conversation. So, your sharp wit took him off guard. Who were you pretending to be? And why?

All of your cleverness fell apart when you tried to follow him. It was almost comical. He felt bad. This was going to be embarrassing for you.

He took several right turns and stepped into the park just outside of the bar. You thought perhaps he had gotten lost and considered turning around after you realized you’d lost sight of him. As you passed a large weeping willow, you were pulled under the curtains of hanging moss by your waist.

Back against the large tree, you could only pout.

“What are you after, stalking a man in the dead of night?” Alastor had you pinned, both hands on either side of your head. His body boxed you in, not that there was much more to see than moss and darkness.

You blinked several times. What a question. You answered honestly, “You.” He cocked a brow. Then you lied, “Your affection. Your time.”

Something akin to a giggle bubbled from his chest. “I don’t have much affection, but I have even less time.” Your eyes darted around, looking for your next move. “I-,” you grabbed him by the face and kissed him. When you broke the kiss he was staring wide eyed, glasses askew. He opened his mouth to speak and you kissed him again, longer, harder.

He seemed frozen under your mouth, lips taut. Your hands roamed his face, messing up his hair and glasses. Mind reeling. Play the nymph. Be the whore the men always said they hated. Be too strong, too forward, too much and he’ll run off like men do. You could try again another day.

Your hand reached for his lap, his hips instinctively jerking away. Perfect. Men these days can’t get it up for a woman who takes the lead. 

Alastor was entirely unsure what the fuck was happening. You were wildly unpredictable. When you grabbed at his dick, he thought his eyes would cross from the shock. Is this what ‘affection’ meant to you? He couldn’t understand it. Couldn’t understand you. Were you really just lustful? Even after what you’d seen him—

You bit at his bottom lip, pulling slightly. Big eyes looking back at him. Your breath was already running away from you, adrenaline seemingly synonymous with Alastor. Staring up at him, you waited. His move.

It was his turn to blink. He looked off to his left, eyes swinging back to you. With a shrug, he leaned his body back towards yours. His hand slid down the front of your dress; red silk. A deer in the headlights, you tensed. The rare third option; fight, flight, freeze. Soon his fingers were tracing the lace of your stockings, climbing up the garter straps. 

His eyes were studying your face. You didn’t want to give the wrong answer again, but at this point you weren’t sure any answer was right. This was taking a sudden turn and your foot was off the brake. You closed your eyes, opting out of the scrutiny of his stare. His hand met your stomach and began to slip down again. He rested it between your thighs, longer fingers and palm cupping the entirety of your sex.

Alastor struggled to decipher your expression. It was almost like a pout, but more subtle. You hadn’t said stop or pushed him away yet. Was he right? You were just… horny? As his hand slid back up and pried their way into your panties, you trembled.

It had been so long since someone else’s hand was on you. Someone whose hands you genuinely enjoyed, who you wanted to be on you.

Is that right? You wanted him to touch you? 

Maybe it was the stare, or the smile. Probably just the adrenaline.

His hand found its place again, middle finger bending to part your folds and feel your wetness. You whimpered, hand coming to cover your own mouth. 

“Is this what you wanted?” He said it low, a husky tone he didn’t have before.

No. Maybe. You nodded yes.

“Will you be satisfied now? No more tailing me?”

No. Probably not. Another nod.

His finger pushed in, and with a kind of greed you didn't recognize your hips ground down into his palm. He slipped in and out of you with ease. You had no idea when or why you got so wet.

“I always end up dripping around you, Alastor,” you whispered through your fingers. His ring finger joined. Why couldn’t you shut up? Why did you have to bring up, well, the murder?

“A common problem for those I take an interest in.” 

Oh no. You moaned softly into your hand. Sharp mind made dull by his fingers so you didn’t, couldn’t, process his double meaning. 

Oh no. The sounds of footsteps, a pair of lovers sneaking into the park for privacy. You heard their giggles, the sounds of kisses interrupting their walking.

“Shhh”, he breathed into your ear as he worked a third finger into your heat. One knuckle, two knuckles. A whimper. His hand came to press down over your own on your mouth, a second barrier for your mewling. You groaned, the sound coming from your throat.  

Whispers. The silhouette of the two interlopers was visible through the willow’s curtains. You watched from over his shoulder, pussy clenching around him. Three knuckles deep, bottoming out.

Fuck it. You moaned freely into your hand, wiggling down onto his hand. Hips rolling, you let your little sounds of praise flow.

The couple laughed, “That’s the spirit!” A man said, a woman hushing him and pulling him away.

Alastor grinned into your neck, immensely amused. He would have better luck predicting a dice roll than your next move. 

You hadn’t realized how hollow you’d been until now, feeling so full. When alone, you focused on just cumming, fingers on your clit and mind on memories. You never bothered much with anything else.

Your hunger intensified. You wanted more. Both hands reached for his crotch again, finding nothing there for you. You could have cried. How were you a wet mess pressed against a tree and he was soft as a newspaper in a rainstorm?

Your pride stung. Men usually stood at attention around you. A half sob into the air earned you a chuckle from Alastor. “It’s no reflection of you, darling.” His nose nudged your ear lobe, “I need a little different stimulation than most.”

“Do you play for the other team?” You considered how you could momentarily switch. 

A louder laugh, “I don’t have a team.” He leaned back now to look at you. His freehand came to press on your lower stomach, gently pushing your womb down. Your brows knit, why did that feel so good? Hands going to the tree behind you for stability.

“Sure feels like you know how to play. This is-,” his hand switched from thrusting slowly in and out to moving front and back. It sent vibrations up into you. Your eyes rolled close. Shut up. Stop talking. Focus. Close.

He kissed around your open mouth, “Well, it’d be unamerican to not dabble. When necessary, or when the conditions are right.”

Double speak over, “Just tell me what to do to get you to fuck me.”

Alastor’s head fell back as he laughed earnestly, most likely alerting anyone in the immediate area. “Ha! No, this is more fun.”

“Oh fuck you,” you brought a hand around to your throbbing clit to quicken your release.

“Maybe next time, dear.” He took a second, fingers in you sliding around your walls in search of something before finding his place and continuing. Your breath noticeably changed, instead of panting you were practically holding it in. You needed the pressure, you needed something to squeeze that spring of pleasure down so it could snap back. As your face went flush, he kissed at your temple, “You look so pretty in red.”

“Oh god-,” Your head fell onto his chest, your joint effort bringing you to orgasm. 

“A little late on Sunday for prayers, don't you think?”

A tiny scream into his suit pocket, his hand not stopping until your thighs finished twitching around him. Even after his hand stopped moving you gripped him by the wrist and rolled onto his fingers a few more times. The pleasure ebbing but still spiking every time he moved against you. 

Ah, greed. That was it. He understood a little better. This wasn’t lust, not alone.  You were definitely a mix of the two. With a sigh, you released your hold and let him slide out of you. Already you felt lonelier. Already you wished to start over.

With his dry hand he smoothed out your dress. You weren’t ashamed but you suddenly felt too embarrassed to look him the eye. But you did, hearing him hum as he sucked his fingers clean. 

Why were you only ever in his mouth in the strangest ways?

“You always taste so sweet, dear. Now!” You wanted to say something clever and salacious like, ‘there’s more where that came from’ but he didn’t afford you the opportunity. He offered you his hooked arm, “It’s dangerous in the park at night. Let’s get you to a cab and on your way home.”

“Is this a hobby of yours?” Your legs were wobbly but otherwise fine. “Illegal activities in public?”

“Funny, I was just wondering the same of you. Stalking is a crime, dear.”

You bit your lip. “Touché.”

He flagged down a taxi, “Tell him where to go.” You slid into the back seat and half-whispered to the driver. Alastor leaned into the passenger side front window and after paying the man, went to close your door, “You’ve been an entertaining sparring partner. Goodbye, sweetheart.”

With a thud of the door and a growl of the engine, you were driving away from him. You could see him in the rear window. He didn’t dare to move, he didn’t need you following another step of his.

Which was unfortunate for him, as you were already scheming how to find him again.

༻Masterlist༺

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot , @pseudobun , @fraugwinska✨, @alitaar , @angelicwillows

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan ,@valkyrie-expeditions

[bed-chemist]

ommmmg can u write something with nicolas being a new dad x reader wife 🙏🙏🙏 maybe them visiting his family during a short trip and him being sooooooo daddyyyy 😭��� after seeing him in those GH pic with this baby …. 🥵😮‍💨 i just need a dad imagines with him since there isn’t any

❝Juno❞

─⋆♡ summary: You’re married to Nicholas Chavez and you bring your newborn baby to meet his grandparents.

─⋆♡ warnings: pregnancy, postpartum depression, fluff, allusions to sex but no smut, Daddy!Nicholas Chavez, Y/N used a few times, 1st person POV. as always i’m always learning so correct me if i missed something!!

─⋆♡ an: based on this ask & shoutout to that person because this was super sweet to write. there’s no public info on his parents and i felt weird looking for it so here’s some Chavez grandparents content. since this may be your introduction to me, i do write in first person, just inserting Y/N. 2nd and 3rd person are absolutely insufferable to me and make me wanna die. with that being said, i’m glad there’s no shortage of those fics on this website. my masterlist is the pinned post on my profile and i hope you all enjoy this imagine! ★ ˙ᵕ˙ liv

The journey to Nicholas’ grandparents’ house is filled with quiet anticipation. We haven’t visited in a while, not since Colette was born. I can’t help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness at the thought of introducing Colette to her great-grandparents, Nick SR and Betty. Nicholas always speaks of them with such affection, often recounting tales from his childhood spent at their cozy home. They were instrumental in raising him, and their influence is deeply ingrained in who he’s become. Now, I’m eager to see how they’ll respond to our little family, especially to me as a new mother.

The sun is high in the sky as we pull into the gravel driveway, which crunches under the tires. The house is a charming, white colonial-style home with flower boxes beneath the windows, bursting with vibrant blooms. It looks like something out of a postcard—quaint and welcoming. Nicholas squeezes my hand as he turns off the car.

“You ready for this?” he asks, his brown eyes twinkling with excitement.

I smile, though my heart races. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” I respond unwilling to let his hand go for the last time.

I eventually gain enough strength to go a second without touching him. We both step out of the car, and I unbuckle Colette from her car seat, carefully lifting her into my arms. She’s dressed in a soft, pastel onesie with tiny flowers embroidered on the front. Her big espresso colored eyes, so much like Nicholas’, blink up at me as she squirms a little in my hold. I kiss her soft forehead, breathing in that sweet baby scent that always seems to calm my nerves.

Before we even reach the front door, it flies open, and Betty appears on the porch. Her face lights up in a radiant smile as she hurries down the steps toward us. She’s a small woman, but she moves with surprising speed and agility, her silver hair tied back in a loose bun.

“There she is! Oh, it’s about time!” Betty exclaims, ignoring Nicholas entirely as she comes straight for me and Colette. Her arms are wide open, and she pulls me into a hug, careful not to crush the baby between us. “You, my darling, look even more beautiful than the last time I saw you. And this precious girl…” Her voice trails off as she gazes at Colette with shining eyes. “Oh, she’s just perfect.”

I laugh softly, returning her hug. “I’ve missed you, Mrs. Betty and thank you.”

Betty steps back, her hands still on my arms, her attention fully on Colette. “No, thank you! You brought another little angel into our family,” she says, her voice thick with emotion. “You’ve made me the happiest great-grandmother.”

Nicholas, standing off to the side, grins as he watches the scene unfold. “Hey, Grandma,” he chimes in, clearly amused. “Good to see you too.”

Betty waves a hand in his direction without even glancing his way. “Yes, yes, Nicholas. We’ll get to you in a minute.” Her eyes shimmer as she reaches out to gently stroke Colette’s chubby cheek. “She’s absolutely precious,” she coos. “She looks just like Nicholas did when he was a baby.”

Just then, Nicholas’ grandfather steps out onto the porch, his tall frame casting a shadow as he approaches us. His blue eyes light up when he sees me holding Colette. “Well, if it isn’t our favorite girl,” he says with a warm grin, pulling me into a quick hug before peering down at Colette. “And look at this—another beauty in the family. You’ve done well,” he adds, giving Nicholas a nod of approval before clapping him on the shoulder.

“Well she is 50% of me so…” Nicholas’s twinge of jealousy for his favorite girls peeks out.

“Oh, hush, Nicholas,” Betty replies, waving a hand at him dismissively before turning to me again. “Come on, dear, let’s get you inside. You must be exhausted after the drive. And you must let me hold this precious girl as soon as you’re settled.”

Inside the house, the smell of freshly baked bread wafts through the air, mingling with the scent of herbs and flowers. The living room is cozy and welcoming, filled with family photos and knick-knacks that speak of years of love and memories. There are pictures of Nick as a little boy, his brother, and even one of us on our wedding day.

Betty leads us to the couch, offering to take Colette for a little while so I can rest. “She’s such a calm baby,” Betty remarks as she cradles Colette in her arms. “I remember Nicholas being a little firecracker at this age—always kicking and fussing. But you, my dear, are an angel, aren’t you?” she coos, her voice full of love as Colette blinks up at her.

Nick Sr. settles into an armchair nearby, watching with a contented smile. “Betty’s right,” he says, his voice warm. “Nick was a handful. Always running around and getting into trouble. I don’t know how we managed to keep up with him.”

Nicholas chuckles, settling beside me on the couch and wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “Yeah, I’ve heard those stories a few times.”

“I bet you have,” Betty says, her eyes twinkling. “But look at you now—such a wonderful father and husband. We’re so proud of you.”

My heart swells at their words, and I feel a wave of gratitude wash over me. It’s clear how much they love Nicholas and how deeply they cherish their family. Their affection extends to me as well, making me feel welcomed in a way that eases the nervousness I had felt earlier.

Betty carefully passes Colette back to me, and I can’t help but notice how her eyes linger on us—on the way I hold my daughter, the way Colette nuzzles into me. After a moment, she glances at Nick Sr., sharing a look that seems to speak volumes.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” Betty says suddenly, rising from her seat with a bright smile. “We have something to show you.”

She disappears into another room, returning moments later with a large, leather-bound photo album. She hands it to Nicholas with a wide grin. “These are pictures of you when you were about Colette’s age. I thought it’d be fun to compare.”

Nicholas takes the album and begins flipping through the pages, his eyes lighting up as he sees the photos. “Oh wow,” he says, pointing to a picture of himself as a baby, bundled in a blanket. “Look at that, she really does look like me.”

I lean over to see the photo, and sure enough, the resemblance is striking. Colette has inherited her father’s dark hair and expressive eyes, and there’s something about the way she smiles that’s undeniably Nicholas Chavez.

Betty beams. “She’s got that same spark in her eyes that you had. And those cheeks! I could pinch them all day.”

I can’t help but smile as Nicholas flips through more photos—Nicholas as a toddler, covered in mud from head to toe; Nicholas on his first day of school, looking serious and determined; Nicholas holding a toy sword, pretending to be a knight. It’s clear that his grandparents were there for all of it, capturing every moment with care.

“Look at this one,” Nicholas says, laughing as he holds up a picture of himself as a toddler, sitting in a high chair with spaghetti sauce smeared all over his face.

Betty chuckles. “You loved spaghetti. Still do, if I remember correctly.”

As we continue to flip through the album, Betty excuses herself and motions for me to follow her into the kitchen. I hesitate for a moment, unsure of what she wants to talk about, but her kind smile reassures me.

Once we’re alone, she turns to me, her expression soft and full of understanding. “I just wanted to tell you that you’re doing a wonderful job, Y/N,” she says, her voice gentle. “Being a new mom is hard, and it can feel overwhelming sometimes. But from what I’ve seen, you’re handling it beautifully.”

I feel a lump form in my throat at her words, the unexpected kindness bringing a surge of emotion. “Thank you,” I say quietly. “It’s been… challenging at times. I have moments where I wonder if I’m doing it right.”

Betty reaches out and takes my hand, squeezing it gently. “Those moments of doubt are normal. Every mother feels them. But you have such a natural way with Colette. She feels safe and loved with you—that’s the most important thing.”

I nod, blinking back tears. “It’s just… sometimes I feel like I should be able to do more. I get so tired, and Nick’s been amazing, but…” I trail off, stopping myself from revealing my biggest insecurities.

Betty’s eyes soften even more. “It’s okay to ask for help, dear. You don’t have to do it all on your own. If you ever need anything—advice, a break, someone to talk to—you can always come to me. I’m here for you, and so is Nicholas. We’re all family now,” she offers.

Her words wrap around me like a comforting embrace, and for the first time in a while, I feel a sense of relief. “Thank you,” I whisper, grateful beyond words.

Betty smiles and gives my hand another gentle squeeze. “You’re doing wonderfully. Just remember to take care of yourself too, okay?”

I nod, my heart swelling with appreciation for this woman who has welcomed me into her family with open arms. As we walk back into the living room, I feel lighter, the weight of my doubts lifting just a little.

Nicholas looks up as we enter, his eyes softening as they meet mine. “Everything okay?” he asks, his brow furrowing slightly in concern.

I smile, feeling a warmth spread through me. “Yeah,” I say softly. “Everything’s perfect.”

As the afternoon fades into evening, Betty leans forward with a warm smile, her hands clasped in her lap. “It’s been so wonderful having you all here today,” she says, her eyes soft as she looks between Nicholas, me, and Colette. “Why don’t you stay the night? It’s been far too long since we’ve had a full house, and we’d love the chance to spend more time with you.”

Nicholas turns to me, his voice gentle as he asks, “What do you think? We don’t have anywhere to rush off to, and it would give me a break from driving back tonight.”

I hesitate for a moment, weighing the offer. I think about Colette’s bedtime routine, the packed bags in the car, and my own exhaustion. But as I glance around at the warmth of the house, Nick’s grandparents’ eager faces, and the calmness that seems to settle over everything, I feel myself relax. It’s been a long time since we’ve had a change of scenery, and the idea of spending more time here—surrounded by family—sounds like exactly what I need.

“That sounds wonderful,” I say, smiling at Betty. “Thank you. We’d love to stay.”

Betty’s face lights up, and Nick Sr. nods with a wide grin. “Perfect,” he says. “We’ve got the guest room ready, and I can set up the bassinet in the guest room next to it. It’ll be like old times, having a little one in the house again.”

Betty stands, already making her way toward the kitchen. “I’ll put some tea on for later. You two make yourselves at home.”

Nicholas squeezes my hand, a smile spreading across his face. “See? It’s going to be a nice, quiet night—just us, Colette, and the best grandparents ever.”

The evening unfolds comfortably from there. Betty and Nick Sr. share stories about Nick’s childhood over cups of tea, their voices light with laughter and nostalgia. As the night deepens, we finally make our way to the guest room. It’s cozy and inviting, with a soft bedspread, and warm lighting.

Colette falls asleep easily after nursing, making for an easy bedtime routine. Nicholas and I kiss her on the forehead goodnight once we’ve got her situated in the bassinet. We separate briefly to prep for bed and when I’m finished, I crack open the door to the en-suite bathroom.

Nicholas looks up from a script, setting it to the side of the bedside table. My feet patter over to him and he pulls back the duvet for me to climb in. “I’m so tired,” I note as I slide between the sheets.

He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me closer to his body. “I know, baby. Maybe my grandparents will watch her in the morning so we can sleep in,” he theorizes lowly, but I can still feel the bass of his voice rumbling from his chest into my back.

I sigh, letting my eyes flutter closed. It’s been an emotional day, and I’m ready for sleep. “It’s okay if they can’t. I love you,” I whisper.

“I love you too, Y/N,” he breathes out with his lips kissing my ear one last time.

My body lets me drift into sleep, hearing nothing but Nicholas’ breathing and the faint sound of crickets outside. But that peace is eventually interrupted by the familiar sound of Colette’s soft cry filling the quiet room.

I blink awake, momentarily disoriented, unsure of where I am. The dimly lit room feels unfamiliar, and for a brief, groggy moment, I can’t remember how we ended up here. But then the memories come rushing back—the visit to Nick’s grandparents, Betty’s kind words, the warmth of the evening.

With a heavy sigh, I sit up in bed, my body aching with fatigue. I haven’t gotten nearly enough sleep, and Colette’s cries, though soft, feel like they’re pulling me out of the little bit of rest I’ve managed. The sheets feel cold, and for the first time tonight, I realize Nick’s arms aren’t wrapped around me as they usually are.

The bed dips beneath me, and I hear the soft thud of feet padding across the floor. “Shit,” Nicholas mutters under his breath as he comes into view. I lift my head, watching him groggily fumble with the baby monitor to turn down the volume.

His chocolate tinted eyes meet mine in the dimly lit room, his face softened with a sleepy smile. “I got it, baby. Go back to sleep,” he murmurs, his voice thick and gravelly.

I don’t resist as my head falls back onto the pillow. Nicholas tucks the duvet around my shoulders, his touch warm and reassuring, and leans down to kiss my forehead before slipping out of the room.

As my eyes flutter shut once again, I can’t help but feel immense gratitude for him—for understanding, for seeing me. Nicholas has always been an amazing partner, but since Colette was born, something has deepened. Maybe it's the way he’s embraced fatherhood, those tender daddy traits emerging in him day by day.

I don’t know how long I drift in and out of sleep before the bed dips once more. This time, I turn over to face Nicholas, only to find him kneeling on top of the duvet, cradling Colette in his arms. He gently rocks her, and his brown eyes, full of apology, meet mine. “I'm sorry, babe,” he says softly. “She’s hungry, and I checked the fridge and my Grandma must’ve given her the rest. We’re out of pumped milk,” he gives his valid reason for disturbing me.

With a tired sigh, I push myself up, scooting back against the headboard. “It’s okay,” I reply, motioning for Nicholas to hand Colette to me. “It’s not your fault I don’t pump fast enough for her.”

Nicholas shifts closer, still kneeling, his eyes warm with reassurance. “It’s not your fault either, baby girl,” he says tenderly. “You’re doing everything right. She’s just got my appetite, that’s all.”

Nick’s words bring a smile to my face as I take our little girl in my arms, feeling the love and support that radiates from him. Colette’s small body relaxes the moment she’s nestled in my arms, and I adjust my position to help her latch on. Instinctively, her tiny mouth finds its way, and I feel that familiar pull as she begins to nurse. The room is quiet now, save for the soft sounds of her feeding and the gentle rustle of the duvet as Nicholas shifts beside me, sitting back in his spot where he just laid.

The weight of exhaustion still presses heavily on my body, but there's something calming about this moment—something intimate and grounding. Colette’s little hand rests against my skin, her tiny fingers curling and uncurling as she nurses. Despite the tiredness, I feel a sense of peace wash over me.

Nicholas watches us, his expression soft and filled with admiration. He reaches out, brushing a strand of hair away from my face, his touch tender. "You’re amazing, you know that?" he whispers, his voice barely more than a breath in the dark.

I smile faintly, my heart swelling at his words, but before I can respond, he continues, his eyes never leaving mine. "I don’t tell you enough how much I love you... both of you." His gaze flickers to Colette, his eyes warm and full of adoration. "Watching you with her... seeing how strong you are, how much you give every day. You’ve made me the luckiest man in the world, Y/N."

His words sink into me, wrapping around my heart like a warm blanket. The weight of my earlier guilt begins to lift, replaced by the quiet assurance that I’m not alone in this. We’re a team, navigating the highs and lows together.

"I love you too," I murmur, my voice thick with emotion as I glance down at Colette, her soft breaths steady against me. "And I’m so grateful for you. I couldn’t do this without you."

Nicholas leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead, lingering for a moment as if sealing the promise of his words. "You’re the best mom, you know that? And she’s lucky to have you," he murmurs, his lips brushing against my skin.

I close my eyes, soaking in the warmth of his presence and feeling the steady rhythm of Colette’s nursing. In this moment, the exhaustion, the doubts, and the guilt of my postpartum depression fade into the background, leaving only the love we share—the love that brought Colette into our lives.

Nicholas settles back into bed beside me, his hand resting gently on my leg, a silent reminder that we’re in this together. And as Colette’s soft suckling continues, I let myself fully relax.

Once Colette finishes nursing, her tiny body grows limp in my arms, signaling she’s drifted back to sleep. I carefully adjust her, cradling her small frame against my chest. Nicholas is still sitting beside me, his hand never leaving my leg, his eyes filled with the kind of tenderness that makes my heart swell.

“Do you want me to take her?” Nicholas asks softly, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

I nod, and with practiced gentleness, he scoops her up and places her between us on the bed. Colette barely stirs, her little hands curling up by her face as she nestles into the space between us. The sight of her lying there, so peaceful and content, brings a soft smile to my lips. My body involuntarily slides down and I stoke her cheek with the back of my finger.

Nick lays down with his head propped up in one arm, the other sliding around me. But as I gaze at Colette sleeping peacefully between us, a small wave of anxiety creeps in. What if we roll over onto her during the night? My breath hitches slightly, and I turn my head toward him.

Nicholas immediately senses my concern and shifts closer, his hand coming to rest gently on my cheek. "Hey, don't worry," he says softly, his voice reassuring. "I’ve got her. We’ve got her. I won’t let anything happen." His thumb brushes against my skin as he speaks, his gaze steady and full of calm. "I’ve read up on this, remember? She’s safe with us. We’re light sleepers, and we’re both hyper-aware she’s here. I’ll make sure we’re careful."

I nod, though the worry still lingers. Nicholas leans in closer, his breath warm against my ear. "You won’t roll over on her. I won’t either. Trust me, baby. And if you’re still worried, I can take her back to the bassinet,” he assures me.

I glance down at Colette, her tiny chest rising and falling, completely at ease between us. There’s something comforting about her being so close, something I don’t want to give up. "No," I say softly, shaking my head. "I want her here with us. I just... I get nervous sometimes,” I admit to him, the concerns laced with my postpartum depression symptoms.

"I know," he murmurs. "But you’re not alone in this. We’re doing it together, okay? She’s safe. We’ll keep her safe,” he promises.

His warmth and the calm assurance in his voice help to ease the anxiety a little, and I let out a slow breath. I snuggle closer to him, nestling my head in the crook of his neck. "Thank you," I whisper.

Nicholas kisses the top of my head, his hand stroking Colette’s tiny arm before returning it to my waist. “I used to dream about this,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “You, me, and a baby… just lying here like this, all together.” His eyes shine in the dim light, filled with a quiet wonder. “I’d imagine what it would feel like, how perfect it would be. But this... this is even better than I imagined.”

His words sink deep into my chest, filling me with warmth. I glance down at Colette, her chest rising and falling steadily between us, and I feel a wave of contentment wash over me. “I’m glad too. It’s everything I didn’t know I needed,” I whisper back.

Nick’s thumb rubs gentle circles over the exposed skin on my side, and for a while, we lie there in comfortable silence, both of us watching Colette sleep. I feel the weight of his arm around me, the warmth of his body, and I can’t help but think about our future—about the life we’re building together.

After a while, I glance up at Nick, my voice soft but curious. “Do you ever think about… having another one? Another baby, I mean.”

His reaction is immediate. His brown eyes light up, the glint of excitement undeniable. He grins, that boyish, playful smile I fell in love with, and there’s no hesitation in his voice. “Oh, absolutely. I thought one of you was cute, but two though? Didn’t think I could handle it. But now that I’ve experienced it, I want three of you as soon as possible,” he rambles.

I laugh softly, both amused and surprised by his enthusiasm. “Three of us, huh?” I ask to clarify he’s not drunk on love.

“Yeah, babe,” he says, his hand moving to stroke Colette’s tiny hand before trailing over my arm. “We could start trying as soon as possible. I mean, why wait? We make great babies together,” he jokes and I stifle a laugh to not wake up our sleeping child.

His grin turns mischievous as he leans in closer, his voice dropping a little lower. “We could even try out some freaky positions this time… you know, spice things up.”

I roll my eyes playfully, shaking my head at him, though my heart flutters at his words. “That’s all you, God bless your dad’s genetics,” I tease, eyeing him with a smirk.

Nicholas chuckles, clearly enjoying my response, but there’s a seriousness in his eyes too—a real desire to keep building this life together. “I’m serious though,” he murmurs, his hand moving to rest on my waist. “I want more of this. More of us. I want a whole bunch of mini versions of you running around, driving me crazy in the best way.”

His words hit me in a way I wasn’t expecting, and I feel a flush of warmth spread through me. I lean closer, letting my fingers trace over his arm. “You’re really ready for another one, huh?”

Nick’s gaze locks with mine, intense but full of love. “Yeah, Y/N. I don’t just want another one. I want a whole football team of kids with you. As soon as you’re ready,” he says firmly.

I bite my lip, considering his words, feeling the quiet excitement bubbling up inside me. “I might just let you lock me down tonight,” I tease, my voice soft but playful.

His eyes darken slightly, that same spark of mischief flickering in them. “Oh, baby, don’t tempt me,” he murmurs, leaning in to press a lingering kiss against my lips.

I pull back slightly, laughing against his mouth. “Let’s not rush it,” I whisper, even though my hormones are raging at the thought. “But... I do love the idea of growing our little family,” I add to soften the blow of sex denial.

Nicholas grins again, his arm pulling me closer as Colette sleeps peacefully between us. “Then let’s make it happen,” he says softly. “One more baby… and then another after that, we can talk again. I just know I want it all with you. Every first word and every first day of school, my love.”

I smile, resting my head on his shoulder, letting the warmth of his words and the future he envisions wash over me. “One step at a time,” I murmur, though the idea is already taking root in my mind, the thought of more little ones filling our home with love.

As we lay there, cuddling around Colette, the future feels wide open—and incredibly full of promise. The room is quiet, the soft hum of the night surrounding us, and as we lay there, I feel the steady rise and fall of Nick’s chest beneath my palms.

“Goodnight, baby,” he whispers, his lips brushing against my ear. I smile softly, my body already succumbing to sleep as I whisper back,

“Goodnight, Nicholas. I love you,” I murmur, never getting tired of reminding him.

“I love you too,” he replies, his voice full of warmth and certainty. “Both of my girls.”

With that, the last thing I feel is the warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of Colette’s breathing between us, and the overwhelming sense of love that wraps around the three of us, pulling us into the soft cocoon of sleep.

The next time I stir awake, it’s to the feeling of the sun shining on my face. Nicholas’ familiar presence is next to me, his body relaxed as he leans back against the headboard. I can feel the steady rhythm of his breathing, the slight rustle of pages as he quietly reads. For a moment, I let myself enjoy the comfort of having him close.

But something is wrong.

I don’t feel Colette.

The tiny body that was nestled between us is gone, and in an instant, a wave of cold panic floods my chest. My breath catches, and my heart starts to pound, my worst fear bubbling to the surface. Oh God, did I roll over her? Did we…?

My eyes snap open, and I sit up abruptly, frantically scanning the bed. My hands reach out, patting the mattress in blind desperation as my breath quickens. Where is she? My mind spirals into worst-case scenarios, and my pulse races faster with each second I can’t find her.

Nicholas looks up from his script, his brow furrowing as he notices my panic. “Y/N, baby, what’s wrong?” His voice is calm, but I can hear the concern lacing his words.

“Colette,” I breathe, my voice barely a whisper as the fear clutches at me. “She’s not here, Nick. I—where is she?”

Nicholas immediately places his script aside and sits up, reaching for me. His hands find my shoulders, grounding me. “Babe, she’s fine,” he says gently, his voice steady, though I can see the alarm in his eyes as he realizes why I’m panicking. “Grandma has her. She came in earlier to take her so you could rest. She’s with her now, probably showing her off to her knitting group. Everything’s okay.”

I stare at Nicholas, the rush of adrenaline still coursing through me, but the words slowly sink in. Colette isn’t in danger. She’s not here because Betty took her.

I let out a shaky breath, pressing a hand to my chest as the fear begins to ebb away. “I thought… I woke up and she wasn’t there. I thought we—” My voice falters, not even wanting to finish the thought.

Nicholas pulls me into his arms, holding me close. “I know. I’m sorry. I should’ve woken you to tell you, but you looked so peaceful, and I didn’t want to disturb you,” he apologizes profusely.

I nod against Nick’s chest, the tension finally loosening from my body as I cling to him. “I just… that’s what I’ve been afraid of, rolling over her in our sleep,” I admit.

“I know,” Nicholas murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “But I would never let that happen. I swear that to you,” he adds.

I take a deep breath, letting the warmth of his embrace steady me. My pulse slows down, and the overwhelming panic that had gripped me starts to dissipate, leaving me feeling drained. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have freaked out.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Y/N,” Nicholas says, his hand gently stroking my back. “You’re a mom. It’s normal to worry, but I’ve got you. I’ve got both of you.”

I pull back slightly, meeting his eyes that are full of understanding. “Thank you,” I whisper, my voice still shaky but filled with gratitude.

Nicholas smiles softly, brushing a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “Get some more rest, okay? Grandma’s got Colette covered.”

I nod, feeling the last remnants of panic finally fade. I glance at his script beside him and give a tired smile. “You’re memorizing lines this early?” I pry.

He chuckles. “Just passing the time until you woke up. But you come first,” he vows.

I sink back into the pillows, the warmth of Nicholas beside me a comforting presence now that the fear has passed. As I close my eyes, the world feels right again. Colette is safe, Nicholas is here, and I let myself relax fully for the first time since waking up. The panic has faded into the background, leaving only the steady hum of reassurance from my husband beside me.

[astupidweeb69]

The Roommate (Dark!Ticci Toby x F!Reader)

NSFW One-shot

Author's note: This is my first time writing smut, so sorry if this turned out bad. It's also way longer than I thought, hopefully there aren't any spelling errors. Cross posted on my AO3 account.

Warnings: Swearing. Toby being creepy, he hurts the reader, blood kink? unprotected sex, creampie, biting, it's just... a lot. (4,519 words) - Minors DNI!

___________________________________________________________

Your brother hated his new roommate.

From what you gathered from the phone calls you two had, you knew he kept to himself, was kind of creepy and left the occasional mess in the kitchen. Your brother had tried to include him when he went out with his other college friends, but he always refused. The guy was gone at odd hours during the night, and smelled like dirt and pine.

You told him it was his own fault for posting an ad for a roommate on Craigslist.

It wasn’t all bad though. He paid his rent on time, always in cash - which he slipped under your brother's bedroom door at the end of every month. Plus, he had insisted on not signing any formal documentation. The lease they had was just a last minute document drawn up for a short term stay. 

Your brother would only have to put up with him for 6 months. Then he’d be gone.

But hey, beggars can’t be choosers. And your brother needed someone to pick up part of the rent last minute.

After a few months it had seemed like he’d grown accustomed to the strange ‘twitchy’ man he lived with, that is, until you told him your plans to visit.

You finally got some time off, and it was the only chance you’d get to see him. So when all the hotels in the area were fully booked you were not about to give up. And….your brother’s place had a perfectly good couch available, right?

He was reluctant at first, but after much pleading, he finally agreed.

On one condition.

Stay away from Toby.

You figured he was just being overprotective. It was kind of sweet, but he’d never been that adamant about you not talking to someone before. There must have been something seriously messed up with the guy. And to be perfectly honest, it made you second guess whether you’d actually go through with the trip out there.

But you already bought the plane ticket, and you couldn’t let that money go to waste.

So now you sat in the passenger seat of your brother's truck, the two of you making idle chit chat as he drove you back to his place from the airport. 

He talked about school, the classes he was taking, what parties he’d been going to, and fraternities he’d been considering joining. That last part earned him some of your teasing about becoming a beer pong loving, “Frat Bro”.

Only after a few beats of silence, you decided to ask him something that had been bugging you since your arrival. 

“Your roommate knows I’m staying at your place, right?”

It was a simple enough question. The last thing you wanted was to intrude on someone else’s living space after all.

You saw your brother grip the steering wheel harder. “Yeah. Toby should know you’re coming.” His response was curt and lacking his previous joyful tone.

“You two fighting or something?” 

Your brother sighed. “No just,” He paused for a moment, and glanced at you. “He’s been acting weirder than usual.”

“Weird how?” 

He didn’t say anything for a while, instead mulling over his choice of words. Not wanting to scare you, but still wanting to give you a heads up of the situation. “He’s been talking to himself. A lot.”

“That’s not that bad. Lots of people do that.” You don’t know why you felt the need to defend a person you hadn’t met yet.

Another pause. This one is longer than before.

“You haven’t heard what he’s been saying.”

______________________________________________________________

The road ahead was dark, lit up by the dim headlights of the car. The only thing out here now was trees, broken up by the occasional house. It was definitely far from campus.

The driveway was gravel, the truck rocking back and forth from the potholes and uneven terrain, finally coming to a stop in front of the house. Painted a dull plain white, one story, rather small, but it would do. It’s not like you were expecting a mansion.

After the car came to a stop, you grabbed your luggage from the backseat, following your brother to the front door where he quickly unlocked it. 

The living room was sparsely decorated, with an old brown couch in the center, a small television and a coffee table littered with cans and half finished drinks.

It completely lacked a homey vibe. Definitely felt like a typical bachelor pad. You nudged his shoulder. “I love what you’ve done with the place.”

“Hey, I’m not majoring in interior design.” Your brother shot back, beginning to walk away past the kitchen, calling out to you. “I’m gonna go to bed.”

Your eyebrows furrowed with a look of disappointment.  “Already? I thought we’d, like…. watch TV or something?”

“Next time don’t get such a late flight.” His face stretched into a yawn. “There’s plenty of blankets in the closet. Try not to make too much noise.” Disappearing behind the door of his bedroom, he left you standing in the room alone with your bags.

Time for bed I guess. 

You sprawled yourself out on the couch, placing a pillow on the armrest, and rolled out the fuzzy blanket you’d found over your body. You turned to face the front door. The room was pitch black, with a few beams of moonlight split up by the venetian blinds.

You picked up your phone from the coffee table by your side, figuring you could watch a few videos before you fell asleep.

The screen lit up, temporarily blinding you before your eyes adjusted. Mindlessly, you scrolled through youtube to find a thumbnail that would spark any interest.

You were about to click one, when you heard someone at the front door. Your eyes widened briefly, and you quickly shut your phone off. You don’t know why. It wasn’t like you were a kid and your mom was coming into your room to see if you were actually asleep. But it felt like you needed to shut your eyes.

So you did.

The door opened slowly, whoever it was trying to remain undetected. 

However, the scent that followed gave them away immediately. You actually had to stop yourself from reacting. It was a mixture of BO, dirt, and something else. Something dead.

Without even having to look, you knew it was Toby.

Footsteps, careful and calculated. The floorboards creaking. 

You waited for him to walk by, expecting him to go to his room so you could continue playing on your phone.

But he didn’t.

The movements stopped halfway through, and you heard him, on the balls of his feet, making his way over to the couch you were on.

The fuck?

You felt your throat dry up. You wanted to swallow down your nerves, but you couldn’t react. You had to continue pretending, right?

You could hear him, his voice low and soft, like velvet. A boyish tone, the occasional word being broken up by some kind of stutter, muttering things you couldn’t make out.

He stopped when he got to your side, standing right in front of your face. 

If you opened your eyes right now you’d probably see him peering down. His jeans dirty and torn, honey brown stare filled with curiosity, looking at the glimpses of your curves that peaked through the blanket on top of you.

A hand reached out. 

Cold, yet somehow clammy… texture rough and calloused. 

He was touching you. 

He was touching your face.

Don’t move. Don’t you dare even flinch.

“M-must be the ssss-sister…”

That was the first clear sentence you could understand.

He retracted his hand. But you could still hear him, the heavy breathing. 

His whispering.

“Soft”

Then he left.

Only afterwards did you realize you’d been holding your breath.

______________________________________________________________

“You look awful.” Your brother commented when he saw you the next morning.

It was true that you barely slept that night, made obvious by the bags under your eyes, and the change in your complexion. The interaction with the stranger, the one you’d been warned of,  had plagued your mind, stirring up thoughts that kept you awake. 

You grabbed a coffee mug, pouring yourself a glass, before joining your brother at the kitchen table.

From this angle, you had a clear view of the hallway. There were three doors, one must have led to the bathroom, and the other remaining two were the bedrooms. 

You only stared at one of the doors though. The one leading to Toby’s room. 

You knew, at some point he’d emerge and you’d finally be able to put a face to the name. A face to the hand that touched you.

For a moment, you wondered if you should tell your brother what happened. He’d probably flip out, maybe even confront the man. 

So, despite your better judgment, you decided to keep it to yourself. 

He only touched your face. Sure, it was creepy as hell, but you didn’t want to cause a fight during your vacation.

Your brother clapped his hands together, getting your attention. 

“So listen!” He grinned widely. “We gotta plan out the strategy for tonight.”

“Strategy?” You asked hesitantly.

“Yeah strategy. There’s a party I want to go to. Kappa Alpha is hosting it.” 

You tsked, sipping your coffee. “You realize I don’t know anything about the frats here. Is that like… a popular one or?”

He nodded. “Yeah it is. I’ve been trying to get into this one for a while now, so getting the invite is a big deal.”

You frowned. You were already so tired, and the idea of going to a kegger was not exactly on your ‘to do’ list. But it was important to him. So you complied.

“Okay. What time does it-”

A door opened. You stopped talking.

Your eyes widened to look over towards the sound. 

Toby was up.

The first thing you noticed was a mop of dark brown hair, unkempt, with curls that went in every direction. It was slightly greasy too, he clearly hadn’t showered in a while. There was light stubble on his jawline, and his skin was a sickly, almost gray color. A snake bite graced his lower lip, and there were a few more pieces of metal sticking out the cartilage of his ears.

He shuffled forward, looking tired, still in a pair of plaid green pajama bottoms and a t-shirt with little alien faces on them.

Once he made it into the kitchen, Toby finally glanced over. You looked away immediately, embarrassed that you were caught staring.

He was handsome. You hated to admit it. But he was. You pushed the thought out of your head, reminding yourself of who he was.

“Muh-morning….” He croaked out.

Your brother gave a little nod, just enough to acknowledge him, turning back to you while Toby started toasting a poptart.

“It starts at 9, but we should show up at 10 o'clock. I don’t want to look too eager.”

“Whuh-what starts at 9?” Toby interjected.

Both you and your brother looked at him, before nervously meeting each other's gaze.

“Oh uh!” Your brother stammered. “Just another party.” He motioned over to you with his thumb. “This is my sister, (Y/N), by the way.”

Toby’s eyes bore into yours. You swallowed, trying to give him a polite, reassuring smile.

“Nice to meet you…. Toby, right?” 

You acted unsure. Like you didn’t know his name by heart. Like you hadn’t had your brother vent to you about him for hours over the phone. 

“Yuh-yeah. That’s right.” He looked back at your brother. “Is the puh-party tonight?”

“Yeah it’s at a frat house. Did you…” He hesitated, before finally asking him. “Want to come?”

Toby bit his poptart, shrugging his shoulders. “I've guh-got nothing better tuh-to do.” The twitching man looked back at you, wiping some crumbs from his lip. He didn’t have emotion behind his eyes, just a weird intense focus on your face.

You pretended to be unbothered. 

It didn’t work.

He noticed.

And he liked the way you squirmed.

______________________________________________________________

Toby stayed in his room the rest of the day. Occasionally going into the kitchen, grabbing a snack, usually some kind of junk food, before he’d scurry back into his little cave.

You started getting ready as soon as the sun went down. It’d been a while since you’d been to a party and you wanted to look your best. Or look like you got a full 8 hours of sleep at the very least.

Toby said he’d meet you guys there. Saying something about how he needed ‘to take care of something first’. No one questioned him. Both you and your brother glad not to have to share a car ride with him.

Loud bumping music, the kind that shook a house and pounded in your chest, enveloped you when you walked inside the frat house. 

Flashing lights, a crowd in the middle of the dancefloor jumping up and down. The air was hot from too many people in a room at once. You could barely move through them all to get to the bar.

God you were going to need a drink to get through this.

Maybe even a couple.

Especially after your brother left you alone to go mingle.

One tequila shot, then two maybe three rum and cokes later. You didn’t even know how long you’d been there. Time seemed to freeze. There was only the music, only the dancing, only the bodies moving against you.

You felt hot. Your cheeks burned, and it wasn’t just from the temperature of the room anymore. The room spinned a little when you walked forward. Not enough to consider yourself completely wasted though. But enough to feel…. Friendlier.

More social.

Less inhibited. 

Numb.

After a lot of struggling, you made your way to the back of the room. 

You leaned against a wall, catching your breath, holding a red solo cup in your hand.  You could hear people trying to hold conversations by shouting over the music. 

And there were plenty of people making out. In fact, you’d say the majority of people were just straight up groping each other.

It made you a little jealous if you were being honest with yourself.

You looked around, wondering if maybe you could find someone cute. You didn’t intend on getting lucky or anything, but it would sure beat just standing there like an idiot. When was the last time you even kissed somebody?

Finally, you locked on to someone across the room. Someone with honey brown eyes. Someone familiar.

Toby.

He grinned when your eyes met. It was the first time you’d seen him do that. Large toothy canine’s, that bandage on his cheek shifting slightly. 

Oh god you felt your heart flutter.

You shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t. There was something wrong with him. Your brother didn’t like him. Nobody did.

He creeped you out.

He didn’t shower. 

He smelled like death. 

You listed the reasons out, and damn if there weren’t a lot of them. But in the end it didn’t matter. In the end, it was painfully, woefully, obvious what was going to happen.

And you were already walking over there.

You slithered over to his side, sweating, peering up at him through your eyelashes. Trying to look cute. Desirable.

It was working. 

He could’ve eaten you up if you gave him the chance. 

But you didn’t know that.

You fiddled with the end of your skirt, the jacket you originally wore tied around your waist. A flush on your cheeks, you let your hand gently touch his shoulder.

“H-hey… glad to see you made it.”

He tilted his head to the side, leaning down to hear you better. It made your stomach stir with excitement, he made you feel small kneeling down like that. But you liked it. Liked that he was paying attention to you, and only you.

“Whuh-what did you say?” His breath was hot on your cheek. Using the loud music as an excuse to get closer, to touch your skin. Making the hair on your neck stick up.

You breathed heavily in his ear on purpose. “I said, I’m glad you made it.”

Toby’s lips parted, not responding at first, but not moving away either. “Oh? Yuh-yeah?” He sounded amused, voice lowering an octave. “Excited to suh-see little ole’ muh-me?” 

It was kind of a stupid, cheesy thing to say. Like he didn’t really know how to flirt, but maybe saw a couple movies and memorized the lines. But it somehow worked for him.

“Oh, I’m sure nothing about you is little.”

Why did you say that?

Why?

It just came out naturally. Oh god, now your face felt flushed from embarrassment.

You felt him touch the side of your face. He chuckled, a low rumble in his chest, it sounded heavenly.

“Yuh-you know, I’m having trouble huh-hearing you.” He paused looking around, making sure no one was watching. You wondered why. 

“Do you want to go somewhere more private?”

That was enough to make heat travel between your thighs. 

Fuck. 

One meek nod from you was all he needed, before grabbing your wrist tightly.

Too tight, like he was unaware he could hurt you. Or maybe he liked causing a little pain?

He dragged you upstairs, practically lifting you with one arm, you felt like you were gliding over the steps. The muscles of his arms barely flexing under that hoodie of his, as if you were weightless.

He was strong. 

You both traveled through the hallway, careful not to bump into anyone loitering in the hall. Some of the other party goers shooting you looks, but they were mostly directed towards Toby. They weren’t judging you or anything. In fact, they looked worried, maybe even a little scared. You started to wonder more about him. What was his reputation like if this was everyone’s reaction to him? Or perhaps he really just looked that scary. 

So why did he turn you on? 

He pushed you into an unoccupied room and flicked the light switch on.

You barely registered him locking the door behind him.

With one shove of his palm he pushed you backwards onto the bed. Your arms flailed a bit out of instinct, falling down on the mattress with an ‘oof’.

You swallowed thickly, watching him eye the way your legs had parted slightly. Your skirt hiking up dangerously on your thighs. You had to fight the urge to close them.

“Yuh-you look scared.” That velvet, sweet, voice of his was twisted by something sick. 

“Are you?” His head cocked to the side, a wolfish grin on his face.

“Yes.” Was your reply. You didn’t feel like you could lie to him now. Feeling too exposed to even think straight.

He licked his lips, slowly approaching you. His fingers danced across your shoulders, traveling down your arms, sending goosebumps down your spine. They were cold and calloused, just like you remembered from the night before. 

“Then whuh-why did you follow me here?” He cupped the side of your face, his thumb grazing across your bottom lip. You were going to respond, but he quickly shoved his finger in your mouth, gagging you. He wanted you to suck on them, but he didn’t communicate that well. “Why duh-did you….approach me?”

You let your tongue glide over his finger. His eyes narrowed, watching your face, before he started talking to himself. “Fuckin’ stuh-stupid.”

You paused. Was he talking about you? 

“Should be whuh-working tonight…” He muttered. “Target just downstairs…. Ssss-so easy…this better be worth it…..” Toby chuckled to himself like he just told a joke.

You didn’t understand what was going on. Should you just ignore him and continue? 

Toby retracted his hand from your mouth.

“Sss-so pretty….” He pushed your back onto the bed, crawling over you, his broad chest heaving, face pink and eyes lidded. Pupils dilated with lust. “So…. suh-soft….(Y/N)....” 

You shivered when he said your name like that, feeling your panties dampen even more than before. Especially when he started running a large hand up your inner thigh.

You let out a shaky breath.

“Yuh-you like it when I touch you…. I know you do…” Your eyes flickered down at him, letting him continue his ramblings, Toby’s face breaking into another evil looking smile. “Luh-letting me touch you last nuh-night…. Pretending to be asleep.”

Your stomach dropped. You couldn’t hide it in your face, he fucking knew. 

He fucking knew the whole time. 

He burst out laughing at your expression. “Yuh-you’re still not even telling me to stuh-stop now!” Toby gripped your hip with one of his hands, lifting up the hem of your shirt with the other. 

Before you knew it, he tossed the fabric over to the corner. 

Your bra was next. 

In any other circumstances you might’ve found it cute, or funny, when he struggled with the clasp. But something told you pointing it out to him wouldn’t have been a good idea. 

He groaned at the sight of your exposed torso, immediately diving into your tits. Your nipples perked at the attention. 

He was right. You weren’t stopping him. Your body screamed at you to. The smell of dirt and grime, of all things dead and decaying, it permeated off of him the more he touched you.

Toby’s mouth latched on to your left breast, the other gripped tightly in his hand. You knew you’d have bruises there tomorrow. You didn’t care. 

He licked and nipped at the tender flesh, the swell of your tits heaving, your head thrown back and lips parted, letting out soft moans here and there.

A noticeable bulge grinded against your leg, as he huffed, humping himself against you like a dog. 

After a while, he finally lifted his head up. 

Toby looked you in the eye, grinning, licking your nipple teasingly one last time, before his attention moved to your skirt. 

His hands searched your sides for a zipper, he grunted out of irritation when he couldn’t find it immediately. 

You took the opportunity to gently put a hand over his, guiding it to where it was. “Here.” You said softly. “Let me help you.”

His eyes snapped up to your face when you touched him. 

Immediately, his lips crashed onto yours. Needy, desperate, quickly shoving his tongue down your throat. You kissed back, swirling your tongue around his, ignoring the weird taste of metal coming from his mouth. His breath was hot and heavy, kisses sloppy. You doubted he got much practice, but he seemed to be learning quickly.

He made up for it with enthusiasm.

Finally pulling away, you both unzipped your skirt together. Lifting your hips off the bed, you shimmyed them down your legs, Toby watching in fascination.

“I’m guh-gonna fuck you.” He stated matter of factly. Then he whispered something that made your blood run cold. 

“...Fuck you bloody.”

Shit this guy was scary.

In a few seconds, he ripped his hoodie off, along with his shirt. His chest was heavily scarred, a noticeable slash starting from his left side over to his shoulder, and a dark happy trail rising up from the waistband of his jeans.

You didn’t comment on it, but it was worrisome. You could only imagine what would cause someone to get hurt so badly and so often.

That said, Toby was definitely toned. A bit sickly looking, but his muscles had just a hint of a six pack formed. Maybe he did more exercise than you initially thought. 

He kicked off his jeans next, unceremoniously pulling his boxers down, revealing himself to you. Lazily, he stroked himself, a thick layer of precum smearing down his shaft. It was long, veiny, but not very girthy. A flushed red tip, looking painfully hard.

You pulled down your panties slowly, already soaked, and ready. The anticipation was killing you, but you wanted to make him wait for it. His Adam's apple bobbed watching you, and you liked reveling in his stares.

“Guh-gonna split you in two…” Toby murmured, to no one in particular.

He hooked his arm under one of your legs, his body shivering with need, pulling your hips against him. He glided his shaft over your cunt, rubbing your clit slowly. He noticed you tense, how you whimpered slightly, and how your slick covered him more at the action. Looking in awe like it was some revelation to him.

Toby licked his lips, before finally enveloping himself in your heat. 

It was quick. Like he was slamming a drawer shut, but he immediately bottomed out. You gritted your teeth in pain, before crying out when he started viciously pounding into you. 

It fucking hurt. It hurt a lot.

“Shit..! Tuh-tight!”

Obviously, your muscles had tensed around him, feeling overwhelmed by the sudden fullness of his cock stuffing you. Unable to adjust.

You whimpered when he didn’t let up, tears pricking the corner of your eyes. A dull ache between your legs as he continued thrusting. The wet sound of skin slapping together coming from where the two of you were joined, burying his face in your neck, breathing in your scent.

Toby inhaled sharply, before you felt his mouth open wide.

Teeth broke through your skin instantly, a warm liquid dripping down your neck.

You screamed.

You screamed louder than you ever have in your life.

You screamed bloody fucking murder.

“Toby!” Clawing at his back, trying to get him to stop, you started crying. “Toby! Please!”

Luckily for you, he released his jaw to call out “(Y-Y/N)!” Not understanding your cries weren’t from pleasure.

It egged him on, encouraged him. His pelvis slamming into yours, with no let up, your tits bouncing at the force. Itching his fingers to your clit, he rubbed it in harsh circular movements, making you tighten around him.

You babbled nonsense. Finally some of the pain subsiding for pleasure, and maybe it was the lingering effects of alcohol, or the slight blood loss, but you felt a buzzing in your head. Basically incoherent, the faster he went. The brutal, bruising speed.

The way he gripped your breast, the way his hand remained on your pearl, trying his best to get you to finish, but not quite knowing how. 

Something started to build. 

More and more.

Hearing him growl, pant, like an animal. It was doing something to you.

You moaned loudly, wrapping your legs around him. The coil snapping, muscle spasming, pulling his cock in deeper, triggering his own climax. 

His hips stuttered against you, letting out a gasp. A warmth filling you, Toby completely emptying himself inside with a deep groan, eyes rolling back in his head. 

He gave a few sloppy, slow thrusts, before finally rolling off, and onto the bed next to you.

His cum leaking out of your cunt and staining the sheets.

Everything went blank for a moment, realization only just settling in. The gravity of the situation, the blood on your neck.

And an arm wrapped around your shoulders, drawing you close.

“I knew you’d be worth the truh-trouble.”

[twinklelilstarkey]

Tutor: Unveil

Words: 9k+ Summary: Here comes another party organized by Rose, meaning you cannot have your parents near people who threaten your peace. You can't even go to the bathroom, for goodness sake! Warnings: Female!Reader. Mentions of secret relationships and hiding things from friends and family (and finally, their consequences). SMUT (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!! Very quick, literally a quickie, because I am so rusty at smut now. It will include some rough manhandling and clawing at the skin, but nothing too bad). Insults. Slut shaming. A/N.: I'm back!! Please know that I want to keep writing, I really do. But my professors absolutely hate me, because I have so much to do. This is like no other semester. Hope you enjoy this!

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I do NOT give you permission to repost my work. If you’d like to read my stories on other platforms, you can find them on my Wattpad and AO3.

With your hands constantly smoothing down your silk dress, you can’t take your eyes off your reflection. You have touched up your make-up maybe three times since you’ve ‘finished’ getting ready and adjusted the more than adjusted dress for the, hopefully, last time.

You have no idea what it is. You feel weird. You feel nervous. Or maybe just anxious. There is something about going to a party with your parents after everything that has happened that makes you want to crawl into bed and only come out when everything has already happened.

Another sole reason your blood pressure has been sky high lately has to do with the conversation you’ve had with your mother in the car about planning something with ‘the girls’. For the last few days, she always remembered it at the worst moments. You have always found a good enough reason for her to not reach out to Kristy or her mother for said plans, but you’re not so sure that today will be possible to do it, given that they will see each other in person. Your mom and her mom have always been friendly to each other and have always liked each other’s company. They will surely plan something like an evening altogether. That is, of course, if her mother hasn’t heard anything about you yet. She too has never been too enthusiastic with Cameron & Co.

A knock on your bedroom door makes you look over your shoulder, and your father walks in. He gives you a sweet smile once he sees you by the mirror and holds his hand in your direction.

“Got to go. Mom is getting impatient.” He says while you take his hand.

You grab your purse on your way out of the bedroom, reaching for it at the last second as you can already hear your mother pacing around the house. You check the time before reaching her, making sure you are not the reason why she is like that, but, as expected, the scheduled time isn't for another 20 minutes. Therefore, you will get there before everyone else.

Your mother is still pacing when you reach her. She has a cream-colored dress, make-up, and hair done with way too much precision, but the look on her face would be enough to make you run to a mirror again.

“Finally!” she says, waving her arms in the air with a sigh.

Her eyes make sure to look you up and down, and her lack of criticism almost makes you cheer out loud. You know you won’t get a compliment with her bubbling with so much stress, so the fact that she has nothing bad to say about you is enough to let out a breath.

After your mother does her last walk around the house to make sure everything is in her purse and everything is locked, you all start to walk out to get into the car. You reach for your phone when you take your seat at the back of the car, and your father begins to back out of the driveway. The car is in complete silence, just as it usually is.

Now that you are officially done with classes, the graduation ceremony is just days away. Meaning, that not only will you soon be far, far away from certain people without school forcing you to be in their presence, but you also have been bombarded with texts from Patty and Topper, who have shared with you all sorts of ideas for the parties that they will be attending. All those texts are in the weird group chat that you have been added to, but Rafe, much to his confusion, was not.

You smile down at some of the messages and make sure to not leave them on read for too long before answering them quickly. These moments of calmness and smiles don't last too long, given that you get a message from Kristy, making you put down your phone to hopefully not let it mess up with your mood again. But, yet again, you were too late.

The trip to the location of the party is a little over 15 minutes, and you try not to pay any mind to any anxious thoughts after that. Because, maybe, just maybe, there is nothing to worry about. Nothing to be scared of, and no reason to want to lock your parents in a room for the entirety of the night.

It’s fine. Everything is fine. You got this under control.

After some time, and a little traffic, the car finally comes to a stop. Your dad helps you out of the car, and as soon as you all stand outside, you can tell that you were some of the firsts to get there. There are almost no cars in the parking lot, and that would be with counting the workers’ cars too.

Before you can even walk all the way to the front door of the building, Rose has already pushed the door open and smiled to greet you. Rose and your mother exchange the classic two kisses on their cheeks – or better, the air close to their cheeks. A handshake with your father. Yet when she reaches you, she pulls you into a hug. Your mother didn’t seem to be able to look away.

“I am so happy that you could make it,” Rose says to you when you two pull away from the hug. “Seriously, it was so hard making all these teenagers want to go to an event with their families.” She turns to your mother to include her in the conversation with a quick roll of her eyes, but she simply smiles dryly at her. “Anything that just doesn’t include alcohol makes everyone want to stay home, these days.”

“Oh,” your mom exclaims, surprised. “Yes, that is true. Youth, these days. But I do not believe that it would be my little girl’s” and, while still talking, she puts her arm around you in a side hug that is so out of character that it feels nearly comical, “style to do anything like that. These types of events are so much better.”

You offer her a small smile in return, and Rose doesn’t seem to notice how tense everything just seemed to get.

The two women begin a conversation in front of you not too long after. They talk about how good you did in your finals and even how Wheezie was so good in hers. All due to your hard work, of course. They talked and talked, and your mother’s arm did, eventually, come down back to her side. You walk over to stand by your dad as they continue their discussion, all while everyone still stands by the door.

“Is your whole family here, already?” Your mother asks her, making your ears perk up.

“Except for Ward, yes. He had to leave to get something at home. But the kids are all here. Well, except for Rafe, of course,” she chuckles dryly, “He’ll get here in his own time.” Rose says with a shrug before turning back to you and offering you a smile, “And I do believe some of your friends from school have gotten here as well.”

Great.

You fake a smile of excitement, and Rose takes that as her ticket to take you all inside the building. The warm breeze from outside is quickly substituted by the cold AC as soon as you get in, and, only after a few hallways, do you step into the massive room of tonight’s event. One with a tall ceiling and a wall made of windows, all of them facing the sea not too far from the building’s garden in the back. One of the windows is open and some people stand outside, some of them smoking, while others just enjoy the view while talking.

Even so, the room is quite empty. The ones inside stand on the sides and corners of the room, but, due to its size, the room feels empty still.

Your eyes scan the room, looking at each person carefully, trying to see how much damage could be made in the first few minutes already.

A little polite conversation later, Rose steps away with a soft ‘talk to you later’. Having looked around enough, relief washes over you when you notice that the friends that she had mentioned had only been one of the girls and some somewhat known faces from school. Nothing like Kristy, or the rest of the group. You know they won't do a thing when alone, that is, of course, if they aren't Kristy.

Your parents walk over to the table with the drinks, and you follow them, only listening to their conversations to keep you entertained.

The room is indeed fabulously decorated. The walls are decorated with amazing and grand pieces of art. Certainly replicas of sorts, expensive looking, nonetheless. Rose, as she tends to do, filled the room with all sorts of flowers and large tables with white tablecloths and glass dishware. At some tables, there are all sorts of mocktails, juices, and fancy herbal and fruitful waters. Other tables have food with all sorts of snacks, which the younger family members seem to have no shame in already having their fill.

You can see the people out in the garden from the drinks table. You can see Wheezie out with her friends, as well as Sarah being annoyed by Topper, who is beginning to be pulled away by one of her friends. They all are dressed formally. Wheezie in soft pink and Sarah in yellow. You look over to check on Rose which is in a light purple. What kind of color would they make Rafe wear?

You smile down at your own thoughts and hide it by looking around, purposefully ignoring a stare from a family that you do not want to interact with – the only girl and her parents, who might as well just call you a devil from where they stand in the room, given the distaste in their faces.

By the time an hour passes, you notice how slowly time goes by. You sure are in for a night.

(…)

It has been three hours, and you've finally decided that you need to walk away from your parents. You have shaken so many hands of coworkers and possible business partners of both your parents, that your mind has begun to blur their faces into one ever since you’ve met the seventh person. Their conversations have been about business and sales, and you swear that if you hear any sort of vocabulary from their field again, you will begin to rip your hair out in chunks.

So, a walk it is.

Your heels click on the tiled floors as you look for a bathroom. No one is in the hallways, most people just stay in the main room or the outside, where younger socialization is seemingly kept. None which you’ll be able to make today, for the looks of it.

You have thought about talking to someone other than your parents, but the possibility of it upsetting them, given your new crowd, always made you take a step back. There aren’t many people you could speak to. Rafe’s friends, who have naturally become yours too, have all gotten here in the last hour. Most who noticed gave you a simple wave, which you could only nod to because you knew you couldn’t be caught waving at Topper Thorthon by your own mother. You might as well just walk right back into the room nude, and you’ll get the same reaction - in other words, complete horror. Patty, on the other hand, had walked over to you to greet you as she normally would, with a hug, and that sparked the curiosity of your mother a bit too much. That is, of course, because she has no idea who she is.

Other sorts of company, also known as your past best friends, have also gotten here, and each time you notice them walking in the room, you would simply spark a conversation with your parents so they wouldn’t look at the newcomer. But you know it, you’re running out of things to talk about. Especially since some of the girls haven’t gone outside and are still standing by their parents, talking amongst themselves. One is easy to hide from your parents, but a group, not so much. The idea of them already talking to them is making chills run down your spine.

Truly, the only thing keeping you sane is the fact that Kristy hasn't arrived. Therefore, there is nothing that can truly hurt you while she isn't here... right?

You walk through the hallways, letting out a sigh, still looking for a more distant bathroom that doesn’t have a line of women you could possibly very well know at the door.

After looking at many lines, you decide to try upstairs instead, because, realistically, you will need at least five minutes of silence in that room to get back into the right mentality to handle the rest of the night, and you will not be able to do that with a group of women ready to break down a door and run in to pee.

You begin to walk towards the front of the building, where you spot even more people who have begun to arrive at the party and are following Rose as she continues to be her pleasant self to her guests. You spot the two big staircases at the front, and you grab onto the railing before beginning to go up.

Suddenly, a whistle echoes down the hallways and up your staircase and you freeze.

“The party is down here, miss.” The voice says.

If only you hadn’t recognized it, you would’ve actually listened to the observation and made your way down the staircase, hiding your embarrassment and complete horror of being caught. But the fact that you did recognize it only made you want to throw a shoe at your boyfriend for scaring you the way he did.

“What am I, a dog, for you to be whistling at?” You say while turning around to face him, while he stands by the front door, meters away from you and down a few steps.

Rafe tilts his head up at you, and you know the comment is eating at him. You're teasing him. You smile as you see him peek into the hallway Rose disappeared into, and you can’t help but let out a shriek when he starts running up the steps to grab you.

Rose must already be on her way back to the door to welcome the new family coming inside, and you have her stepson ready to tackle you to the ground, so you have double the motivation to grab onto your dress and the railing and try to get away from your man.

You laugh your way up the stairs, but you don’t even get to the last step before he’s able to grab onto you. Now, do you think it was a fair fight? With you in heels and a long dress? Absolutely not, and you make sure to let him know that as he casually puts you over his shoulder and gets you both off the stairs - all while basically making you think you’re going to die for being upside down on the last step. You have screamed twice since he's gotten here. Rose would kill you if she knew.

“Please put me down.” You say, defeated and seriously out of breath from both running and laughing.

You know that Rose must have heard the both of you, you just hope she doesn’t know it is you who was just laughing hysterically. You’re sure she heard the damned loud whistle and rolled her eyes to the back of her head in response, knowing very well whose it was – the only son that is almost 4 hours late to a party his own family is organizing. And now that same man is kidnapping a girl into the upper floor, how nice. You wouldn't blame her if she stopped inviting him. Not at all.

Halfway through a hallway and during your millionth plea, Rafe finally puts you down, making your hair fall in all sorts of directions over your face, getting a genuine laugh out of him. Your hands begin to try and smooth down the strands back into their original place, but Rafe continues to smile down at you.

“Don’t you look beautiful today, baby?” He says in a dramatic tone, making your hands stop working through your mess of hair and giving him a glare, which in his eyes seems more like a pout.

Taking pity on you, Rafe helps you with your hair to the best of his ability, and you begin to look around for a bathroom.

Leaving Rafe behind and knowing fully well that he will follow you without hesitation, you walk over to a door that, thankfully, is unlocked, and the room is empty. Rafe walks in with you, and you only let out a breath when you hear close the door behind him.

Rafe watches you through the reflection as you fix your hair further and then check on your makeup. It takes quite a few moments of silence before you turn and lean back on the counter. With your back to the mirror, and the temperature of the cold stone going through the fabric of your dress, Rafe steps in front of you, and the warmth of his hands on your hips adds a nice contrast.

You look up at him, analyzing his face, but you notice how he leans in for a kiss, making you turn your head at the last second, forcing him to lay a kiss on the corner of your mouth instead.

“I have lipstick on.” You whisper at him, “Don’t you dare ruin it.”

“I would never.” He whispers back but kisses your cheek again instead and then continues to go down your jaw, neck, and then shoulder.

You fight the urge to close your eyes to the feeling of his lips and look at him while he moves, you haven’t taken a good look at him yet. He looks good, like he always does, in a dark blue suit with no tie and a pristine white dress shirt underneath, his hand has his usual gold ring, and his buzzcut looks just made.

“We’re matching.” You tell him, a smile more than evident in your voice, making him raise his head up to look at you. “Why blue?”

“Ask Sarah, she was the one that chose my suit.” He says, creating a slightly bigger distance between your faces.

You lay your hands over his shoulders, but they eventually find their way to his cheeks. Your thumbs caress his skin, and he continues to stare down at your face.

“You look really handsome tonight.” You whisper to him again.

“I do?” He asks, and you nod, making him lean into you again, threatening to ruin your lipstick yet again.

“And incredibly needy too.”

Even Rafe couldn’t hold in his chuckle at your observation.

“Someone ignored my texts for-”

“We texted this morning, Rafe!” You say a little louder this time, with a smile that almost made Rafe’s heart jump out of his chest. “Since when did you become such a sappy boyfriend?”

Rafe did not even have to say a single word, the expression on his face of complete repulse for your choice of adjective is enough to make you smile widely at him. He sends you a glare as a response which only makes you laugh harder. Your hands come down to his shoulders again, and you give him a kiss on his cheek before leaning away from the counter.

“I have to go back down soon.” You tell him.

Rafe leans in closer to you, his hands forcing your body glued to his, making you lose all idea of cold from before. You are warm all over. “Why?”

“My parents are here, can’t have them talk to a certain someone just yet.”

Rafe doesn’t answer out loud, he just continues to look through your face, deep in thought. You watch him as he does it, memorizing every inch of his skin in return. Rafe had noticed your mood while watching you walk the hallway downstairs. You are deep in thought and visibly buzzing with anxiety. Knowing now that the root of all your problems is just a floor down from yours, makes a lot more sense than whatever he had thought of.

“They’re here?” You only nod, kissing his jaw and pulling back to look him in the eyes, “Have they said anything?”

“Not a single thing, only stared for a while.” Rafe pulls you impossibly closer to him, and you let him. “They might already be doing it right now.”

“Why did you leave?”

“I was driving myself insane. Had to talk to way too many people, and I can’t even remember a single name.” Rafe grins at your words, but you sigh before continuing, “I want to go home already.”

“But the party just started.”

You roll your eyes at him and his audacity, and he smiles down at you. Your lips crack a small grin too, and you feel one of his warm hands move from your back to your hip, squeezing it through the thin fabric and holding onto you tightly. Your entire body sizzles at his touch, and you lean closer, completely forgetting your own promise to not smudge your lipstick.

“We shouldn’t.” You whisper against his mouth.

“We really shouldn’t,” Rafe emphasizes with a shake of his head and a big smile, but that is just before he closes the gap between the two of you. Your lips touch, and your hands smooth over to his head, smoothing over his short hair.

Rafe lifts you up to the counter and pulls your dress upwards to your waist to help him stand between your legs with the slit of the fabric. You sigh against his lips at his touch over your smooth thighs, and, under the dress, Rafe grips onto your skin and pulls you directly into his hips, making you moan against his mouth.

His hands look for a certain piece of fabric, your panties, under your dress as he pulls you against him, but all he feels is skin. He brings his hand up and grips your face with the same force as he did your hips, thumb digging into your cheek as he held your jaw.

He pulls you back, noticing just a slight smudge of your lipstick, and you smile maliciously at him, knowing exactly why he’s behaving the way he is. He lets out a dry laugh, not finding any sort of humor like you did, and kisses you a single time before whispering directly into your lips, “You’re such a—”

“Panty lines, Rafe, panty lines!” You interrupt him without being able to contain your smile.

Your lips melt into a kiss again, more aggressive this time due to Rafe’s discovery, and you can’t help but continue to smile into the kiss, moving your shoulders until you feel the dress’ strap slide down your skin. Rafe’s hands slide from your jaw to your neck, and your hands slide down his torso all the way to his belt, currently almost glued to you too because of how tightly Rafe holds you to him.

You pull his belt to get him closer to you and finally pull at the buckle to undo it. Rafe’s hands let you go for a second, he undoes the buttons of his dress shirt, only separating your lips for those seconds and coming back to you.

You finish undoing his belt and move onto the button and zipper, while Rafe’s hands move back to hold your hips. Rafe groans against your mouth, and you grab onto his boxers, dragging your nail over the elastic band. You smile at the way he responds, pulling you roughly towards him and grabbing onto your skin as if it’s his lifeline.

Your hands pull his clothing down, and Rafe is quick to lift a hand and push yours away from him. Your lips don’t separate through it all, and Rafe brings his hand in between your legs. His touch immediately rips a reaction out of you, making you moan louder against his lips while your back stretches with pleasure.

Rafe’s fingers drag from your clit to your entrance, not ever stimulating you on purpose, just moving so, so slow that you consider biting him in response. You turn your head to break the kiss, and Rafe just continues kissing down your jaw and neck, as if unphased. Your breathing is heavy, and your heart is beginning to seem to want to beat out of your chest, but your lips are only able to whisper a single plea, “Rafe, please, we have to be quick.”

“Please, what?” He teases like he always does.

You groan, naturally, and he smiles, “Please, Rafe, just fuck me”

In response to your words, Rafe did not hold back. He glues back your lips to his, and the finger over your clit pulls away, leaving you cold and waiting. His hand goes back to your hip to hold you in the exact position he wants you in, and, right after pulling his hand away again, you just feel his dick lining up with your entrance and sliding into you.

The sensation almost feels like too much, making you pull away from the kiss and bring your hands to his shoulders. Your hands hold onto his skin, underneath the opened suit, and Rafe groans at the feeling of your nails on his skin. He doesn’t move, once he’s able to slide entirely into you, and all you hear for those seconds of no movement is both of your elaborate breathings.

Rafe breaks the silence, “Fuck, you feel so good.” making you chuckle and pull him into a kiss.

As soon as he begins to move, you almost feel as if your body is not your own. The pleasure is too much, and you can’t help but pull Rafe closer to you. His movements are steady and slow at first, but, at this moment, it almost feels like enough. Something about being worried and anxious throughout the night made you feel as if your body is now overly sensitive to everything that Rafe touches.

Your moans aren’t words, just whimpers and sounds of pleasure, never too loud and even sometimes a whisper. Rafe looks down at you, as one of his hands moves to wrap his arm around your back to support your body close to his. Your hair looks perfect again, and your lips only have a slight smudge at a corner, almost unnoticeable. One of your dress’ straps has slid off your shoulder, making his half-closed eyes stare at your jiggling flesh. He pulls you in closer and speeds up ever so slightly, letting the sound of skin slapping and your wet pussy fill his ears and consume him.

You lean your forehead on his shoulder, as one of your hands slides out of his suit and wraps around his bicep. His cock, moving back and forth, his tight hold on your body, your naked chest now glued to his, it seems like too much for you to even open your eyes. It is as if flames consume your body, from your legs to your head, centering around your stomach. It burns at your insides, and all you can think of is how good it feels.

You know you have to be quick about it. Your biggest worries are just a few steps away, so possibly able to find you and what you’re doing, bringing to absolute ruin. But, now, you can't bring yourself to care. And especially not when Rafe moves to grab onto your face and brings your lips to his, making your mind go fuzzy, and your heart flip with love and pleasure for this man.

The kiss starts with form, but it loses it within seconds with some of your moans and Rafe’s groans. Both of you are lost, and getting worse with each stroke and each kiss. You have obviously gotten wetter, you both can hear it, and Rafe can’t help but reach underneath your dress to touch you.

You let out a gasp, which turns into a moan when he touches your clit, and he simply holds your face in place, unwrapping his arm from your body. Your hands reach to hold onto the counter of the bathroom, and the cold stone bites at your skin once you touch it.

Rafe kisses you slowly one last time and lets go of your face before he speeds up his thrusts a last time, making his movements fast and rough, but sloppy. Yet you swear that you have never felt better. His cock reaches deep into you and with each stroke, it touches where it should. His finger slides with ease over your swollen clit, and your pussy squeezes him in response to all of it.

Rafe’s fist closes with all its might as he keeps going and you moan his name, close to his ear. Both of you are beginning to break your first sweat as the peak of your pleasure gets closer and closer. You can almost taste it. Rafe pulls you back to him, maybe a bit too forcefully, but you couldn't care less. You moan into his skin as he gets you closer and closer to your orgasm, and your hands claw at his skin for it.

He leans in close to your ear and whispers, “Come on, baby, come for me.”

After just another two thrusts, you sob out a moan into his neck and Rafe puts your mouth to his in a kiss. Your hands reach for his face, even while still reacting to your too-powerful orgasm, and he follows you right after, pounding into you with a force you know will leave you sore, but for a cost that you could accept any day.

As both your heart rates slow down and your breathing calms, your mouths go back into a normal kiss, your usual slow and loving. Rafe wraps both of his arms around you, pulling your flesh impossibly closer to his, and you relax close to him, ignoring what could possibly await downstairs.

(…)

It took you embarrassingly long to fix your makeup before you got down the stairs with Rafe. No one is walking in anymore, which can only mean that it is finally late enough for anyone else to come in fashionably late.

Your heels click as you walk a little too fast due to your anxiety, Rafe stays a little behind, letting you in the room before he does. You push the door open, and the sound of all the conversations around the room hits you all at once. You look over at Rafe before you walk in, and he nods at you to go.

You walk through a few groups of people and look over at where you left your parents, only to find them in the same place - your father just a few steps behind. You fight the urge to smile a bit and begin to walk towards them, but your legs stop moving when noticing Kristy with her arm crossed with your mother, as her mother stands right next to her too.

All three of them are in a deep conversation, but smiles are all around, which only soothes your soul a slight bit.

Kristy’s mother, Natasha, is another type of woman entirely. In all the years of your friendship, you had only seen her a few times, always out in business. She is a hauntingly beautiful woman. And, yes, even after so many years, you too are scared of her, while your mother never seems to get enough of her.

“Oh, there you are!” Your mother says, noticing you right away. You walk closer to them, trying to hide how stiff your body feels due to the adrenaline coursing through you, “Are you feeling alright? You were gone for a bit.”

“Yeah, just a stomachache, I think.” You tell her, “But I’m feeling much better now.”

“Do you think it’s something you could’ve eaten?” She asks, and your eyes move over to Kristy who is obviously staring at you, hard.

“Maybe.” You shrug at your mom, ready to change the topic of conversation.

“I told you to put the leftovers in the fridge yesterday, but, no, you just had to do it when you felt like it, right, missy?” She teases, looking over at Natasha to make her join in on the motherly teasing session.

But, when you look over at her, you would have to be blind to not notice the way she is looking at you. Different from the way she used to, which could only mean one thing.

“Oh,” She plays along, hiding her staring slightly better, this time. “Kristy is just the same, you know? Always does things on her own time, no matter what I tell her.”

Kristy would’ve rolled her eyes at her mother’s words if she wasn’t occupied staring at someone in the distance. Her silence was so out of character that you weren’t the only one to notice her distraction, because your mother looked faster, and her mouth followed at light speed.

“How can a son arrive so late to an event organized by his own family? A shame, really.” You tense further as she shakes her head.

Kristy tenses too at her words, quickly looking away and down at her feet for a few seconds in shame. Having had enough of her shit, you can't help but continue to glare at her.

Your mother, oblivious, does not notice the tension building up, but you’re thankful for that as she keeps herself busy by bad-mouthing your boyfriend instead.

“No surprise that Rose doesn’t bring him to so many of her parties,” She says, “I would do the same.”

“What a disgrace of a boy...” Natasha says but while directly facing you, almost as if trying to talk to you about him. “Do you know him?”

“What?” You ask her, trying to hold back your defensive tone.

“Rafe Cameron,” She reminds you, “Do you know him?”

Your mother looks at you, intrigued by the conversation. “Oh, no, not at all.” She answers for you.

“Are you sure?” Natasha asks you with a dip of her chin, making Kristy turn her head to her in shock. “He’s not too far from your age.”

“A year.” You tell her, and she nods, beginning to grin at your response. Your mother looks at you in interest but, of course, nothing malicious is crossing her mind, “I’ve talked to him before, yes.”

You can come to very much regret saying such a thing in a few seconds but, at the end of the day, if you ever want your mom to know of your relationship, she better start warming up to the idea that you at least know the guy.

“You have?” Your mother’s interest could not have been more peaked.

“Yeah,” You nod, noticing that Kristy’s shocked eyes have now come to face you too, “Not as bad as everyone says.” You shrug.

“Really?” Natasha asks, humor thick in her voice, but you ignore it and simply nod. “Oh, I’ve heard the opposite, that he and his friends are an absolute horror to talk to. Very rude, weren’t they, Kristy?”

Kristy’s eyes almost pop out of her head once her mother mentions her name and her experiences.

“Oh-oh, uhm…” She hesitates, making your mom almost want to shake her to spit it out. “I didn’t have the greatest conversations, no.”

“How come?” Your mom pressures her, pulling at their crossed arms, urging her to tell all, but Kristy is nowhere near ready to let it out.

“Just some parties, you know.” She shrugs, “He must have been drunk a few of those times, so he wasn’t the nicest.”

“What kind of things did he say to you?” Your mom asks.

“Oh, not to me. But my friends, for example… One day, they were looking for someone.” You fight the urge to punch her, this time, “And asked him- because he is… friends... with her.” She takes a deep breath, “They asked him about her, but he just told them to ‘f’ off and all that.”

“Who were they looking for again, sweetheart? His girlfriend, was it?” Her mother asks, only looking at her daughter in fake curiosity.

Your mother could not even contain her shock, letting out a gasp so loud that some people around you turned to look at her. You, on the other hand, feel as if someone had just thrown you into an iced lake. “He has a girlfriend?!”

“Oh, yes, he does.” Natasha says, “Quite a shock to me too when I heard.”

“Do you happen to know who it is?” She says, leaning in as if to know a secret.

You physically butt in by putting your hand in between them, stopping Natasha from opening her mouth any further and making the two of them look at you.

“It’s his private life, we shouldn’t talk about it.” You say, with a tone so serious that it made your mom notice some of the attention you all were gathering around you.

She smiles at the people, who turn away right after, and, with a lower tone of voice, she says, “Oh, honey, please. That boy has never been private a day in his life.” Your mother insists, “It’s nice of you to try and be civil but with Rafe Cameron?”

“You’re not being fair, mom.” You tell her, letting her continue to think of you as just a nice person trying not to dirty her pure and innocent ears with gossip. “You don’t know him.” You look at the other two women.

Kristy listens to your words and notices her mother’s silence. She did not expect her mother to try and provoke you as much as she did, but Kristy can only blame herself for that. She shouldn’t have told her everything she knew, but it had been a bad day, and she thought she could trust her mother to stay quiet. After all, she had always seemed to like you. Yet, there was something about your words just now that sounded like they were meant for her too.

After all, you were defending Rafe from her. Again.

“You know him that well?” Kristy asks you, after the seconds of silence – and delusion from you, since you thought it had been enough to calm down the conversation and delay it for another time.

You look at her with eyes that could only mean two things to any onlooker, either that you were offended by her words or the complete opposite, that you were pleading with her to just stop whatever she and her mother were doing.

“I wouldn’t say that well.” You say, slowly, trying to measure your every word, so it wouldn’t lead to any misunderstandings. “But I have talked to him and seen him a lot of times. I’m at his home for a lot of hours, remember?”

“That’s right, you tutor the Wheezie girl.” Your mother suddenly remembers, “But, the rumors about him can’t be all that big of a lie. So many people tell them. A new one each week.”

“But... Like you just heard, he just got himself a girlfriend. Even you were surprised.” She nods, not understanding where you’re going with this. “If he can get himself a girl to date after all the rumors about him, maybe he’s not that bad.” You shrug.

You continue to look at your mom, in silence, watching as she slowly bites the bait towards a more open-minded and not-so-horrible mental image of Rafe, but you watch it all burn down in front of your eyes, right as Kristy starts to speak.

“That really depends on what type of girl you imagine him dating,” She says with a chuckle as if finding what you said cute or amusing. Deep down she is boiling in anger with the way you dodge every question with ease, like you've been hiding for so long, you already became accustomed to it all. “You’re imagining him with a well-mannered girl, about his age, a great student, and with great friends that can only be a good influence on him—”

“Kristy,” You warn her.

“But the reality is that we don’t know who the girl is.” She continues in a tone that not even a saint would believe to be truthful, “His girlfriend can very much be like any other slut. Someone who can only match his energy, someone who can only ruin herself further than she has already ruined.”

She looks you in the eyes as she says those exact words, fueled with rage after hearing you say all those things about how everyone just misunderstands Rafe.

“That is…” Your mother says and hesitates, not loving the words used to describe the hypothetical girl just now.

“What’s wrong?” Kristy asks you, not even hiding her tone this time, “Stomachache, again?”

Your breathing is uncontrollable, and your heart is beating rapidly. You’re not sure if it’s adrenaline, anger, heartbreak, anxiety, or everything all at once. All of what is being unsaid is being left in the air, like a toxic cloud, which everyone just watches you seem to be the only one in the conversation to be able to breathe it in.

“Something like that.” You say with gritted teeth with a short smile.

Your mother’s face twists with worry and Rafe is quickly forgotten. She turns to you, but you can’t take your eyes off the two women who appear to be practically orgasming with how they are loving to threaten to ruin your life with casual banter.

“We can go ask Rose if she has something for a stomachache, honey, would you like me to do that?” You don’t answer but try to shake your head, which goes unnoticed. “Or maybe in our car, maybe I have something for you to take.”

“I’m fine, mom, really.”

“What’s happening over here?” You hear your father’s worried voice behind you, which makes you turn to face him.

“She’s feeling sick—” Your mom tries to tell him.

“Sick? Did you eat something you shouldn’t?” He asks you, “Was it those leftovers? Honey, we’ve told you that you should put them in the fridge—”

“You should tell them the truth,” A voice interrupts your father, making you look at the two women again, your heart now at your stomach making you even more nauseous.

“What?” Your mother asks with pure confusion over her features, “What are you talking about?”

You look at the two mothers, both looking at each other, one with a know-it-all look, while the other is lost in absolute confusion.

“If it was my Kristy, I would’ve wanted her to tell me everything since day one.” She says, facing me again.

“Shut the fuck up.” You say to her, your volume low so as to not get any attention from anyone outside of this conversation, but your mother’s gasp might have gotten some looks right after, again.

“Apologize!” Your mother says to you, “You cannot speak to her this way, she’s your friend’s—”

“No,” Kristy says, only making your mother’s frown deepen. “Actually, you might not even know but we haven’t been friends for quite a few weeks, isn’t that right?” She smiles at you.

“What?” Your father asks, shocked to know that the once inseparable childhood best friends are no more.

“Tell them.” She tells you, making your eyes water, from anger, embarrassment, or complete horror that this is finally happening, but you fight the tears. “They deserve to know.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to hold in your need to gasp for a sob that you are holding in.

“Could either of you two just tell us what is going on, already?” Your father asks, leaning his hand on your back to try and offer you comfort, but his touch only repulses you, given what you are being forced to say.

Your panic rises as you’re unable to scream hysterically at the women in front of you to just disappear and mind their own business due to how many people surround you. How many of your parents’ friends and coworkers surround you, and how you would just embarrass them if you even dared to say half of what this woman and her daughter deserve to hear.

“Maybe we should go home,” You tell your dad, “I’m not feeling good.”

Your mother can’t even help but look at the two women in front of you sideways. She has known the women for years and has never seen them behave the way that they are behaving. But, again, she also has known you since you were born. You’re half of her. And she hasn’t seen you talk or act the way you are, right now.

“What is it that she’s talking about, honey?” Your mother pulls at you, worried but frightened too with what could be about to come out of your mouth.

“Let’s just go.” You tell your mom, feeling your entire burn in horror. They will know everything after today. There is no other way around it. “I'll tell you at home, please.”

Kristy's mother speaks again. “Just say it.”

She opens her mouth, but you make sure to speak over her, “You don’t know nothing about me or my life, you have no right—”

“Just like I don’t know your boyfriend, right?” She asks, and everything around you goes silent, “There... See? Not so hard.”

“Wha-what? What do you mean by that?” Your mom says, taking a step closer to her, hoping that she had misheard her.

Natasha does a short smile at your mother, and your father, having not been present during the past conversation, simply brushes his hand up and down on your back. He still does not understand a single thing of what they are saying, but he is worried about you.

No one says another word, and Natasha and her daughter walk out of the conversation. You recoil from your father’s touch and take a step back from both of your parents. Your breathing is beginning to sound strange to you, and your skin feels too hot to the touch even though chills run down your body. Your heart is breaking and being ripped out at the same time, and the world has begun to lose its center of gravity because it is suddenly too hard to stand.

Your mother continues to stand a step away from you, not moving, thinking to herself about how she and her own mind can be wrong. How this is not her reality, and how when she turns to face you, she will find you and Kristy, still as best friends, laughing at her face for being so dumb to even believe all of this. But she doesn’t. She turns, and she finds you pulling away from your father and walking away, ready to get out of the building.

She stands there, watching you walk out of the room, and notices that Kristy is following right behind. She can’t move or speak for a few seconds. Her husband stands beside her, asking her what the hell is going on, and in the corner of her eye, she sees him. She turns her head to him and watches him, with his blue suit just like her daughter’s dress and hair cut short. He has a charming smile on his face as he speaks to a group of men with his father on his side. He is acting unbothered and calm like he always does in these events.

As her heart continues to pound, her husband follows her eyes and stares confusingly at Rafe Cameron, trying to decipher what could be going on, but to no avail.

You forcefully clean your tears with your shaking hands and walk quickly down the hall towards the door to the outside. Right next to the door, you notice three people talking, but before you can even get close to them, a voice stops you.

“I didn’t mean for this to be like this,” Kristy says to you, and your blood boils at the sound of her voice,

“Oh, fuck you.” You exhale out the words at her, knowing the people in the room of the event won’t hear a thing, turning to face her. “You and your mother knew exactly what you were doing.”

“I didn’t want it to be today.” She shakes her head, not exactly sure what she should say to you first, “I just thought that your parents deserved the truth.”

“Oh my god, Kristy, shut up! JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP with your 'could do no evil' attitude!! No one asked you for anything! I was going to tell my parents when it was safe for me to do so.” You try to hold in your tears, even when you know you have every right to cry, “You bitch, I probably don’t even have a house to live in right now, and all you care about is how you could justify your own stupid actions? Fuck you!” You try to turn to walk away again.

“I—” She tries to walk with you.

“No! Stop!” You tell her, holding out your hand, “You have said and done enough today, Kristy. I do not want to ever see you again. I will never forgive you for anything that you and your mother have done today.” You can’t even hold yourself back from both continuing and letting out some tears, “I am an adult, I have been an adult this entire time. I choose my own relationships, and you have nothing to do with it.”

“You know that is not why I don’t approve…”

“Exactly! Because I don’t need you to approve, Kristy. You are not my mother and you sure as hell aren’t my friend anymore. Your approval means absolutely nothing to me, right now. Maybe before you fucked up, absolutely, that is why I didn’t say anything before, but now?” You run your hands through your hair in frustration as you snicker at your own words, “And you called me a slut, for Christ’s sake. In front of my own fucking mother.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I don’t give a shit, Kristy!” You wave your arms in the air for emphasis, “I do not give a single shit about what you meant or even still want to mean. You have officially and royally fucked me for life, and you think you have the right to run after me?” You ask as you angrily wipe away your tears.

Kristy bites down her tongue and looks at you, “I just don’t understand how you think that what I did was so wrong. I get it, I should’ve let you have the conversation with your parents at your own time, but also look at my side. Why did you hide him? If he is so great, as you say, why did you hide him from us? From me?” She pauses, “We were best friends. I only wanted what was best for you. Of course, I wouldn’t like to hear that you were with him, but I would’ve still preferred to have you tell me the truth.” You turn your back to her and start walking again, “That is why I will never understand this relationship.”

“Do you really want to know, Kristy?” You say out loud, turning to face her again, noticing how she hasn’t moved closer, “Because it was fun. In the beginning, all of this was for fun. I had fun with him. I felt like I could do whatever the hell I wanted with my life without anyone judging me or thinking less of me. And it was a secret because it was all there was to it: fun! And, after everything, he was nice to me, and he was gentle with me.” You take a breath, “And since that moment on, I gave him more of me and, even when he royally fucked up too, he made sure to make up for it and stay by me.”

Kristy opens her mouth to twist your words, but you don’t let her.

“And before you even say. I do not give a shit if he drinks or if he fights, or if he does fucking coke every single day in his life, you know why? Because at the end of the day, he will come back to me and love me, and let me love him like he deserves to be loved.” You sniffle, “Rafe has not mistreated me a day in his life. He takes care of me, and he loves me, and that is all I could ever ask of him… And the fact that you couldn’t even try and get to know him- It really shows who I must choose to include in my life from now on.”

You take a breath and hear the door to the event open again, so you decide to end the conversation.

“Goodbye, Kristy.”

You turn again and walk over to the front door. When you walk closer, you notice that the three people who used to stand by the door have stopped talking, pretty sure right after you started screaming. You almost apologize as you walk past them, but you notice that one of them is Rose. You almost freeze once you realize that now she too knew of your relationship with Rafe, but your body is too locked into the idea of getting the hell out of there, so you simply look away and walk right off into the cold night’s breeze.

What the fuck are you going to do now?

I finally did it! I honestly believe that this was the hardest chapter to edit. Everything just felt so cartoonishly evil, I hated it and had to basically rewrite it. I was so stressed, I really wanted it to be good. Hopefully, it was worth the wait!!

If you're wondering where I've been or if I'm okay, I'm more than okay. I'm just really busy with uni since my professors seem to hate me, and I had no inspiration for the entirety of my summer vacation. So, now, when my life is at the peak of stress, I decided to post this (just to add more stress, but anyway).

I really hope you enjoyed this! I am so sorry that it took me this long <3

[b3ach-bunn7]

DONT SMILE

Dabi is your unfairly attractive bandmate, and the two of you stay late in the studio to finish a song (and each other)

NSFW, BandAU, head on both ends if u get my drift

(Guys this is my first time writing smut plz be nice 🙏)

(Also song used in the fic + title is don’t smile by Sabrina c plz listen)

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The sound of Dabi absentmindedly plucking his bass fills the studio. He’s lounging across the couch, legs holding up the dark blue instrument as his fingers drag over the frets lazily. He’s wearing a vest, the white fabric stretched tight over his skin. The jeans he’s wearing are slung low on his hips, and you avert your eyes as he adjusts them, hips lifting from their place on the couch to drag them down.

You’re on the other end of the room, swinging back and forth on a desk chair. The room is hot. The studio was small, the same one your band, LOV, had started out in. Despite being more than popular enough to rent something bigger, there’s a weird obligation you all feel, too attached to where you started to ever leave. You and Dabi are supposed to be writing new songs,  working on stuff for the upcoming album, but you’re not bothered. You can’t think. As the lead singer, lyrics are usually your forte but you’ve got no energy for it. The others aren’t even here, and that only makes you want to work even less. That, and the fact that Dabi is an ample distraction.

He groans from the couch. You glance at him over your shoulder. He’s looking at you impatiently.

“Let’s go home. I’m sick of this shit.”

You sigh, leaning your head back on the chair. “No, we have to stay. We haven’t written anything in ages.”

“Uhm, speak for yourself. I have some things. Riffs.” He plays something small to demonstrate and you roll your eyes.

“And how is that any help without everyone else here? We need all instruments present to actually make a song.” 

Dabi huffs. He places the bass to the side, stretching. His arms reach above his head, shirt lifting up to reveal his happy trail and you sigh.

Of course Dabi is attractive. It doesn’t take a genius to figure that out. And yes, you also find his personality attractive. He was funny, that calm confidence he always spoke in, his flirty nature, it was all alluring. You’d see him dragging enough girls out the tour bus in the mornings to know you aren’t the only one who feels this way. Unfortunately though, the amount of women he’d been with, plus the fact it’s never a good idea to date a bandmate, means you keep your distance.

This doesn’t stop him from flirting with you at every available second. You’d like to say that you’re immune to it, but that unfaltering attention from Dabi isn’t something you think you could ever get used to.

“What about you? You got any lyrics down?” He asks. 

You frown. You walk over to him, nudging his legs over. You sit next to him and he leans over your shoulder to read the scribbled notes you’d been writing the past couple hours. You huff, pushing his leg further away from yours. It’s currently pressed flush against yours, and his thigh is warm. He’s always so warm.

“Can you stop manspreading?” You mumble, pushing his leg away.

“Aw, you know you love it.” He grins, leaning even closer, eyes never leaving your notes. 

You roll your eyes, but you don’t do much to fight the close proximity. His hand reaches up to stabilise the paper and his fingertips brush the back of your hand. 

“Mediocre.” 

You gape. “Mediocre? I’d like to see you write any better.” You snatch the paper from him and he shrugs.

“It's not bad. It’s just too sappy. Nobody believes that romantic shit is actually real.” He says. 

You bite your lip, thinking. Dabi’s criticism is enough to have you doubting the whole song, and you groan. “Why did you have to say that? Now I hate it.”

“Good.”

You knock his side with your elbow and he tuts. 

“You asked.”

“I didn’t.” You go to elbow him again but he grabs it before you can. You think you can feel the callouses on the tips of his fingers as his hand touches your bare skin. You shrug him off. 

“You asked to see, but I didn’t ask for any feedback.” You say.

Dabi sits up slightly. He tilts his head, strands of black hair dipping to the side. His eyes flit over you quickly.

“Well. We’re a team, no? Don’t you want my feedback?”

You lean your head against the back of the couch. “I guess.”

He reaches over to grab the paper again. “Good girl.”

You flush slightly. “Don’t call me that.”

“You love it.”

You decide it’s better for the both of you if you don’t answer that. You look at the vinyl hung up on the walls, the pictures of you guys at award shows. Anything to distract you from the man sitting next to you.

“I think you should flip it.”

You turn to him now, and he’s already looking up at you. “What?”

“You see like this line? ‘Don’t cry because it’s over baby smile because it happened?’ Swap it so it’s like, ‘Don’t smile because it happened baby, cry because it’s over’.” 

You furrow your brows. “That’s depressing as hell, though. It’s meant to be a love song.” 

“That’s love, though.” He slides the paper back into your hands. “Depressing as shit.”

You scoff. “What do you know about love?”

He grins then, so boyish and teasing. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Yeah, that’s why I asked.”

He huffs a laugh. “Love is overrated. That’s what I know.”

You roll your eyes. “You sound stupid. This isn’t some Disney channel movie, love isn’t overrated.” 

“Hm. Agree to disagree.”

You quickly get up to grab a pen. You could sit further away, but you plant yourself right where you were before, and you ignore the knowing look Dabi gives you. “Okay, help me change the other lyrics then. Since this is now a hate song.”

Dabi laughs. “Not hate. Just not love either. A nice in between.”

“Hush. Okay, so this song is about. Well it’s about being okay with a breakup.”

“Is that the case for most people though? I mean, go the other way. Write a song about the pining, the feelings you can’t get over. Not being okay with a breakup.”

You always see Dabi at his most passionate when he’s talking about music. He spends most of his days lazy and indifferent, but now, his eyes shine brightly as he speaks, as animated as you see him get. You smile slightly, nodding.

“Okay. That sounds good. You have to help me though.” 

“God, if I have to.” 

The two of you sit for the next few minutes, squabbling and disagreeing half the time. You think the songs too negative and Dabi assures you it’s not.

“I mean, it’s all about the singer being in love with someone she doesn’t have. This line, ‘I want you to miss me’ or this one, about ‘thinking about me when you hold her’. It’s depressing, no?”

“But that’s what relationships are like.”

You slump back. You’re now cross legged on the couch, Dabi the same, the two of you conferring over the sheets of paper in front of you. There’s ink on your fingertips from writing and you tap the pen on your chin.

“Not necessarily. Not always.”

Dabi shrugs. “Definitely not always. But we can write about when it is. We’ve got plenty of love songs, but. We don’t have many focusing on this.”

“What’s this?”

Dabi paused for a second. It’s silent for a second too long, and you look up at him to see he’s already looking at you. There’s an expression on his face you don’t recognise. You smile slightly, confused, and it seems to jog him out of his silence.

“That longing. Wanting something, someone, so badly and not being able to have them. The pain of it.” 

He speaks softly, his voice nearly a whisper just between the two of you. You notice suddenly, the proximity between the two of you. If you just lean forward a few inches, you’d be touching. 

“You really think a relationship should be that hard? That painful?”

“No one writes good songs about the ones that come easy.”

You laugh softly. You scratch your chin. “Okay. That’s good, then. Let’s finish the rest.”

The two of you sit there, working away. You’ve never really been this alone with Dabi, not this late at night. There’s no windows in the studio, but you know from time and the fact sleep aches under your skin that it’s late. Somehow, you end up  closer. Dabi reaches over to write something and your hands brush, you stretch and your arms touch. Both of you are desperately trying to get in contact just once, just for a second. After what feel like forever you throw your pen to the floor.

“God. I’m done. I’m tired.” You suddenly say.

“Yeah, I think we’re done here.” Dabi speaks through a yawn, dropping the papers on the coffee table in front of him. 

You curl up on the couch, propping your head against Dabi’s shoulder. “You know when the next rehearsal is?” He asks.

Dabi scratches at the scruff on his chin and you think for a second. “Two days, I’m pretty sure” 

Dabi curses softly under his breath. “I don’t think I can make it.”

“Uh, why not?”

“I’m busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Doing who, more like.”

You sit up. “Who?”

Dabi grins. He brings his arms up to rest on the back of the couch. “You jealous, baby?”

“I’m not jealous of your little groupies.” You scoff. 

Dabi barks out a laugh. “Groupies? The fuck are you talking about?”

It’s your turn to laugh. “Oh, come on! Last tour you brought one back like, every night.”

“They wanted autographs!”

“Fuck off!” You laugh. “Those were very vocal autographs. You do realise the tour bus walls are very thin?” There’d been nights when you’d felt like you were in the room with them. 

“Aw, if you wanted to get involved all you had to do was ask.” Dabi pouts, his voice teasing.

“Shut up, you pervert. You wish.”

“I do wish.” 

“Degenerate.”

He reaches a hand up to brush a strand of your hair behind your ear. You freeze slightly and when he moves his hand away you turn, knowing the bright lights won’t hide the red on your face.

“Didn’t mean to be so loud. They can’t help it, you know. Not when I’m there.”

You scoff. “Right. Is that where you learnt all about love?”

“You could say. I know they loved it.”

It was no secret that Dabi slept around. You’d all been victim to the girls he took to bed, screaming his name late into the night when you’d all be trying to sleep after a show. Yeah, you’d had sex before, but it had never been like that. Didn’t have you yelling the way they did. It did make you wonder, some nights.

But you’re not going to let him know that. Your face twists in disgust. “Gross. I don’t need to know that.”

“Really?”

“Yes really.”

Dabi sighs. He sits up slightly. “Shame. I’d show you such a good time if you’d let me.”

And that has you thinking.

Because there he goes again, flirting and saying such suggestive things. You never play along because you always argue that he’s just joking. He doesn’t mean it. And you could shut it down right now. Really. One shove of his shoulder, one excuse that you’re tired and he’s being gross would have him backing off.

But Dabi is looking at you under impossibly long lashes, impossibly blue eyes trailing over your body, before they land back on your face.  He’s looking at you like he’s not joking anymore, and the part of you that wants to scream like those girls did has you meeting his gaze with competition. 

“Really?”

If he looks shocked at your reply, he doesn’t show it. He just inches closer. “Of course. You know I’d treat you right. If you’d let me.” 

You're a breath away from each other. You’re not sure how, but you’re both sitting up again, face to face. You can smell the cigarette smoke that always seems to linger around him, the too strong cologne that never manages to hide it. This close you can see freckles on his face, so light you don’t think you ever would’ve noticed them otherwise. You want to reach out and touch them but you’re frozen. Waiting.

The both of you are silent. You let it linger, wait for him to make the next move. 

“You’re gorgeous. Do you know that? I’m always watching you on stage. When you’re singing. Can’t get enough of you.”

He reaches a hand up. A hand rests on your shoulder, right against your pulse. His fingers curl up against your face, trailing down your cheek.

“And those groupies you were talking about? Fuck, I wish it was you. Wish it was you I was making scream on my tongue, do you know that?” 

You don’t say anything. You don’t think you could if you tried. Dabi smiles.

“You know you do this thing. When we’re working. You always bite on the end of the pen.” 

His fingers trail over your lips. His thumb rubs at your chin. 

“Drives me fucking crazy.”

Your breath hitches as his hand curls around your neck with more purpose.

“I’m gonna kiss you now. That okay?”

You nod.

“I need to hear you say it, baby.”

“Yes, yes it’s okay-“

Your words are breathless and desperate but no more desperate than Dabi is when he pulls you forward, crashes his lips against yours. He makes a sound, almost whining as he curls a hand in your hair. And it’s like everything you always thought it would be, as fast and as hot as you’d imagined. The hand on your neck reaches down, dipping under your shirt and pulling it over your head. You’re only in your bra, and you feel shy suddenly. Because you’re not the prettiest girl he’s ever met, you know that. Your arms curl around your body and he pulls away for just one second to shake his head, breathing heavily. His hands pull your arms away, grabbing both your wrists in one.

“Don’t do that, baby. I wanna see you.” He murmurs.

He kisses down your neck. His lips suck marks into your skin, and you should tell him to stop because people will see it all tomorrow but you want him to mark you up. You want him to see them tomorrow, see them at rehearsals and remember it was him who put them there.

He licks at your pulse and he pulls back. He reaches behind and with one hand, unclips your bra. The ease in which he does it should alarm you slightly, but then he continues down, and his hands on your breasts is enough to render any thoughts in your head useless. He grabs them both and he groans.

“These tits. So soft, so beautiful.” He whispers the words into your skin like they’re not even meant for you.

He pinches your left nipple before sucking it into your mouth. You whine, hands reaching up into his hair, tugging at his shirt. Because you suddenly feel horribly underdressed compared to him, shirtless as he moves to give attention to your other nipple. He tugs his shirt up quickly, and you let your hands travel up his torso. You feel the lean muscle under his arms, trace the scars across his body. He lets go suddenly. 

“Come on, baby. Take these off.” He tugs at your jeans and you quickly slips them off. His hands slips your underwear away as well, throwing them to the side. 

Dabi moves quickly into the floor until he’s kneeling in front of you, arms resting on your legs as he spreads your thighs apart.

“Dabi? What- What are you doing?”

“You call me Touya when I make you come on my tongue, you hear me?”

You curse, breath hitching as he kisses the soft skin of your thighs, fingers rubbing up and down the side of your hip. “It’s okay. You don’t- You don’t have to.”

Dabi, or Touya now, looks confused. He tilts his head slightly, lips red and kissed out, hair mussed from where you had been grabbing it. “Have to? I’ve been dreaming about this pussy for so long, baby, you don’t even know.” 

He looks at you with so much want in his eyes. He bites softly into your thigh and you squeal, and he grins. 

“If it was up to me, I’d sit you on my face and eat you out until you can’t speak, but. We’re on a time crunch here.” 

He presses a chaste kiss to your clit and you shudder. Two fingers reach and part your folds and Dabi makes a low sound in the back of his throat.

“So wet. Is this all for me?”

“Touya, stop teasing.” You huff, squirming in your place.

Touya drags his fingers down, face so close you can feel his breaths. “Ask me nicely.”

“Please, Touya.” You grit out, sitting up in your elbows to glare down at him.

“Please what?”

“Please-“ Your cheeks flush red because he’s not even looking at you. His eyes are focused between your legs like he’s seen heaven between them.

“Please, make me cum, you prick.” You say with a shiver.

And it’s that tiny shiver that seems to set him off because he’s suddenly kissing and sucking at your lips, tongue digging inside your pussy and tracing circles around your clit. Your hips rock forward as you moan, and he holds you down easily so he can continue.

You have been eaten out a few times before. It never felt like something to enjoy, the boyfriend or hookup always doing it to get something over with, to tick a box. But what makes your toes curl, what makes you inch that much closer to cumming, is the fact that Dabi is eating you like a man starved. He’s groaning, eyes fluttering shut as he takes slow, purposeful mouthfuls of your pussy like he’s doing it for him and not you. 

“Taste so good. You been hiding this from me?”

“Touya- fuck.” You grab his hair and tug, and he moans.

“Yeah, good girl. Do that again.” 

You comply, his name a ramble on your lips as your hips buck again. Your core aches and you voice reaches an embarrassingly high pitch as he kisses your clit again. It takes an embarrassingly short time for you to reach the edge. “Da-Touya, I’m, I’m close,” you breathe, hands clutching at the couch beneath you.

Touya detaches himself from you, eyes glancing up at you. “Yeah? You’re close?”

You nod, whine caught in your throat. Your hips jolt forward as he begins trailing slow circles over your clit with his finger. You whine at the slow contact.

“You wanna cum?”

“Yes. Yes, Touya, please.” You breathe.

“You wanna cum on my tongue, baby?” He whispers and you keen, hand reaching down to tug at his hair again, trying to drag him closer.

“Fucking- Touya, I’ll do it myself if I have to.” 

He laughs at that, quickly returning his attention back between your legs. It’s embarrassingly loud as he sucks at your clit, two fingers reaching inside you to press against that spot that has you moaning his name once more. 

“Good girl, so fucking pretty cumming all over my face.” He groans.

And then you cum, and Touya easily holds your hips down as they shake, his own grinding into the floor beneath him, and he takes you through an orgasm that racks through your body. You think you might pass out from the pleasure that crashes over you so suddenly. His hands grab at your chest, your neck, and when he kisses you again you can taste yourself on his tongue.

He smiles at you again, this time more elated, a wild look in his eyes. 

“You’re gorgeous, you know that?” It takes you a minute before you can reply. You do so but gesturing him up in his feet.

“Here. Come, get up.” You speak suddenly, still breathing heavily.  

Touya looks confused for a second. You drag him up onto the couch, and your eyes trail down, to the obvious bluge in his trousers. And he looks big judging by it, and you think you’re already ready to get off again.

“Your turn. Come on, take these off.” You tap your fingers on his jeans and take his place on the floor.

“God, you know just what to say to a man.”

“Shut up.” 

He uses one hand to unbuckle his belt and he’s just showing off now, you know, but it’s hot and he knows it is. He pulls his jeans down his legs and you let them pool at his feet. And when you pull his cock out it’s long and thick, you find the source of all his arrogance. He catches you looking and he huffs a laugh. His breath hitches as you slide your fingers up the side, tongue reaching out to lick at the tip, hard and leaking precum.

“You know, you always, fuck, you always deny it, sweetheart, but look at you.” He groans as you lick a stripe up his cock. “On your knees for me.” 

“I always imagined taking you right here, in the studio, bending you over this couch and fucking you until you’re screaming nothing but my name, squirming and begging on my dick.” Your thighs clench and he sees it, a nasty smirk on his face as you take him into your mouth.

“You want that too, angel? Want me to make you scream so loudly everyone comes in and, shit, sees you cumming on my cock? You want that?” 

You don’t say anything, can’t, because he fills your mouth so full that you couldn’t speak if you wanted to. His hand reaches into you hair, guiding your head up and down his dick, low moans and grunts leaving his mouth. He’s so vocal, you realise, an endlesss stream of barely coherent praise leaving his mouth as you use yours.

“Fuck, yeah sweetheart, fuck.” His hips buck into your mouth and you nearly choke.

“Come on, I know you can take it. Good girl, good fucking girl.” He groans, pulling your head down further.

Your eyes flutter shut and Touya reaches down with his free hand to brush the tears that fall down your cheeks. You grab into his thighs, nails digging into his skin.

“Taking me so well, baby. Always so fucking mouthy. So pretty when you use it right.” He breathed heavily, jerking into your mouth again.

He starts fucking into your mouth, and you swipe your tongue underneath his dick, the vein that runs down it and he stutters, breathy curses leaving his lips.

“Gonna cum, fuck.” 

Your name slips past his lips in tandem as he bucks into your mouth one last time. Your mouth fills and you swallow, and he pats your cheek as you look back up at him, gasping for breath you pull back. His chest heaves and his eyes are shining brightly again but for a very different reason. You trace the scratches you left on his thighs and he in turns rubs a finger on the hickeys that leave a telling trail down your body.

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i get so cringed out when i write smut but i wanted to do it so i powered through!!! plz give me any tips if u think its bad i greatly appreciate it. i also had noooo idea how to end this oneshot so i lowkey just stopped writing LMAO

anyway.... bass player dabi u live on in my heart kisses forever

[pixxiies]

ꨄ ⌒ ⋆｡ ˚ SHOW ME .

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│⊹ warnings ⋆ ;; light swearing, mostly chris’ pov, y/n used, lowercase intentional, thats it!! its all fluff

│⊹ pairing ⋆ ;; chris sturniolo x fem!reader

│⊹ haven’s notes ⋆ ;; i was originally writing matt smut but i was too lazy to finish it LMAOOO

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incoming message from: nick 🥸

chrissy pooh!! guess what? y/n is coming over for movie night 🥰🥰🥰 get ready!

chris’ — pov

my heart had skipped a beat once nick told me that y/n would be coming over for a movie night. i have been liking her ever since sophomore year, even though i had the courage to ask her out (surprisingly), she got a boyfriend before the day i was gonna ask her.

it was hard for me to talk to her after she got a boyfriend, i always felt weird to start a conversation with her knowing i had a crush on her while she had her feelings for someone else. but recently, he cheated on y/n. i was probably the first person to find out. since in her words im her ‘second favorite triplet’ other than nick, who is her first favorite triplet. she ended up coming up to my place and i comforted her. y/n said that she was extremely grateful that i was there for her and such. and honestly? it just made me feel more in love with her.

unfortunately, nick and matt know about my crush on her. every-time she leaves our house after her and nick hang out or we all just hang out, they both tease me about it. they always either pick me on something i did that was a bit awkward and whenever i got close to her.

i was currently sitting down on the couch, my leg bouncing up and down as i waited anxiously for y/n. “you need to calm down.” matt told me when he noticed my anxious body language. “im fine?” i chuckle dryly. he looked at me like i was crazy while rolling his eyes. “matt seriously?” i say with my words laced with annoyance. he laughed a little bit before he said something. “your obviously nervous for y/n to get here just so she can lay next to you the entire movie.” matt giggled as he placed his phone down on his chest.

“what?? ‘m not.” i deny. a small knock was heard from downstairs, and my heart skips several beats. “we’ll see about that.” matt smirked at me as he sat up to go answer the door, running behind nick since he was too excited to see y/n.

end of chris’ pov

you were greeted by two pairs of blue eyes. “hey y/n/n!!” nick smiled as he dragged you into a hug. “hey nickkk” you giggle as you hug him back. it took him a while to let go of you but once he did, you went to hug matt as well. they both move a little bit so you could walk into their home.

you smiled at the brunette boy that had been sitting down on the couch. “hey chris!!” you giggle as you run over to give him a hug. he smiled softly as he embraced you tightly. “hiiii” he dragged out before letting you go. “y/n! you can go put your bag in my room.” nick called out from the kitchen as him and matt prepared some snacks. you nod before scurrying up the stairs to put your bag down.

“what movie are we watching??” you ask while skipping down the stairs. “probably a horror movie, i really wanna— fuck this is heavy! watch tarot. is it on netflix chris??” nick asked his brother while struggling to carry two bowls of popcorn to the sofa. chris shrugged before searching it up, surprised that the movie was on netflix already. “yeah, it is.” he said, scooting a little bit to make room for you to sit down.

you comfortably sit down next to chris, enjoying the warmth of his body against yours. “nick pass me the popcorn” you say while reaching over chris to try to grab the bowl. the blonde boy handed you the white bowl filled with buttered popcorn. you put it in on top of your lap and you laid your head on chris’ shoulder.

“wait wheres matt?” you ask while shoving a handful of popcorn into your mouth. “hes grabbing candy from the car, chris start playing the movie!!” nick says eagerly, as if he needed to watch the movie as soon as possible.

“wait for me! jeez.” matt giggled as he emerged from downstairs. he threw the packs of candy in a pile on the foot rest. chris pressed play and the movie started. the living room was filled with the sounds of munching on snacks and the movie background music.

you occasionally heard small giggles coming from the two other boys on the sofa. you lifted your head in confusion and saw them looking at you and chris. after a while, the giggling wouldn’t stop. “guys! shut up.” you mumble, your eyes flickering from matt and nick to chris.

“sorry! sorry.. sorry.” matt giggled. you ignored them and just fixated your eyes back on the tv. soon enough, your eyes grew heavy, even though the tv volume was at 32 and it was a horror movie.

eventually, you fell asleep with your head slipping down to chris’ chest.

chris’ — pov

nick and matt kept giggling like little kids when they saw y/n laying her head on my shoulder. i shot them an annoyed look after they both said sorry when y/n told them to shut up.

i tried my best to pay attention to the movie and not to y/n. the movie was actually surprisingly good. i jumped a few times to the jumpscares that were scattered in it. a few more minutes went by and i felt y/n’s head slowly slip down to my chest. my breath hitches a little bit loudly and matt breaks his neck to look at us.

“awww.” matt teases. “jesus shut up matt!” i say quietly, blood spreading everywhere on my cheeks. “shh, is she sleeping?” nick asked with a cheeky smile. i nod slowly, my cheeks burning up. “here gimmie— go take her down to your room or something.” he said while grabbing the controller to turn the volume down.

i sigh a little bit frustratedly before struggling to pick up y/n since of the position we were in. “you guys can continue the movie without me.” i grumble as i bridal hold y/n close. “okaayyyyy!! have fun chrissy.” matt says in a high pitch tone quietly and with a pout.

i carefully walk down to my room, trying my best to not have y/n bump her head on the wall or anything. i quietly open my door and shut it silently. i flick the light switch on with my elbow slowly before walking towards my bed. i gently rest her down on my bed, covering her body with my white comforter. “jesus what do i do.” i whisper underneath my breath.

since i was already getting a little bit sleepy, i gave in to lay down next to her. i flicked off the lights and slowly laid down on my back next to y/n. i stared at the ceiling, my breathing unstable from nervousness. as soon as i was about to fall asleep, i hear the comforter rustling and feel her hide her face in the crook of my neck.

i freeze in place, hesitant to move. but i finally did after a minute or so. i turned onto my side and wrapped my arms around her. it was a little bit obvious that she was awake when she quickly wrapped her arms around me as well. “you awake?” i whisper softly. she lets out a small ‘mhm’ that made me smile a little bit.

“i hear your heart beat.” y/n croaked with a little smirk. my cheeks start to heat up once again. “no you don’t.” i giggle. she untucks her head from my neck to look up at me. “don’t make me feel like im going crazy!” she smiled. i laugh a little bit at her, a small hint of pink growing on my face when i saw her smile. “your hands are also cold.” the girl told me, reaching to her back to grab my hand. “they are always cold.” i state, intertwining my fingers with hers.

i blink at her a few times in the comfortable silence. y/n licked her lips before kissing my own. "g'night c." she whispered softly. my mouth was left opened a little bit out of shock. "y-yeah, g'night y/n/n." i say. "wait no, we aren't gonna unpack that?" i ask before i closed my own eyes to go to sleep.

"hm?" she hums at me. "you kissed me." i state. "yeah?" the girl mumbled again. "was it like a.. a friend kiss or." i mumble back, my hand leaving her's and to her waist instead. "god chris your so slow." y/n giggled at me. "i like you, idiot." she said again, looking up at me.

"what? really?" i say. "do i need to kiss you again to make you believe it or what?" she asked me, her hand coming up to play with my hair. "mm it would be nice." i mumble, making her lean up slightly to kiss me.

————————————————————————

│⊹ taglist ⋆ ;; @deftonesmatt @mattsluttywaist @luverboychris @sturniol0s @mxqdii

read part two here!!

[otherone12]

Hi, I'm obsessed with the way you write your stories and I'd like to ask for a request, it's the first time I've done one but I love your stories. I'd like to ask you for one about basement gee x reader (the plot doesn't matter) but I'd like something smut (of course one where both are of legal age) but I'd like to see gerard as someone who is geeky and is in love (somewhat sickly) with the reader

I'm sorry if it's weird, and also English is not my first language so I'm sorry if the wording of the message is bad.

I’m Awkward, Not Dangerous!

Basement!Gerard Way x Reader

-> Masterlist

Hi!!! Omg, I'm glad you like my fics <3 !!! And also thanks for requesting!! I really loved the idea!! Well, I tried to make his nerdy side very visible, mainly by making him very weird in terms of social relationships and some geek references along in the story. Ngl, I had to write this one like three times, 'cause was never good enought, but I think it's nice now lol. I hope you like it! (If it turned out too different from what you imagined, let me know and I'll try to fix it :) )

(If u have some suggestion, idea, or request, just drop it! )

Summary: It suppoused to be another day, but things turned a different when Gerard invite you to watch a movie in his basement, let's just say he REALLY likes you, and you discovered this in the creepy way possible. (I'm terrible at writing summaries)

- Word Count: 3.000

- Warnings: afab SMUT, awkward gerard.

- Ps: I'll not use y/n…

- Ps2: I'm brazilian, so english is not my first language ... sorry if i wrote something wrong.

___________________________________________

1st Person POV

School sucks, our senior year was supposed to be a little funnier, right? Unfortunately, that's not what's happening, but it's infinitely better when they're with me.

Sometimes we spent entire periods outside the classroom, just chatting about anything and listening to our favorite bands, while we smoke behind the bleachers.

This was another one of those afternoons, where one less math lesson didn't make any difference, and it seemed much more interesting to hear Frank make jokes about someone's clothes. Followed by Mikey update us on the latest gigs in town, or Ray making insightful comments on every topic that comes up.

Sometimes, Gerard talks about the backstories of the heroes he created, so we spend hours thinking of outfits and some scenes that might be cool. Is really cute when he gets all excited talking about things he likes.

After a while, the conversation starts to wind down. Frank is scrolling through his phone, muttering something about needing to practice with his band. Mikey checks the time and mentions that his work shift was going to start. Ray says he has to study for some test he has tomorrow, and heads out first, leaving the rest of us behind with a lazy wave.

- Guess that’s it for me, folks. - Frank said, getting up - if I miss one more essay they'll look for another guitarist.

- I think I'll go too - Mikey stubbed out his cigarette and picked up his backpack, making his way to the video store - but I'll probably be home by 9pm… maybe later if Pete and I go drink something after the shift.

Within minutes, it’s just Gerard and I.

He’s sitting a little awkwardly, tucking strands of hair behind the ear, like he’s waiting for the right moment to say something. It’s sweet how shy he gets sometimes, especially when the others aren’t around to drown out the silence. There’s always something a little different about him when it’s just the two of us.

- So, uh…- He cleared his throat. - Do you... wanna come over? I was gonna watch that new horror movie I told you about. The really bad one with the cheesy practical effects…

His voice was low, and he blinked with his beautiful hazel eyes, pleading. After a few seconds, he gave a shy, hopeful smile.

- I mean, only if you’re not busy or anything…

- Nope, I’m totally free. - I smiled at him, excited to watch the movie with him.

The walk to Gerard’s house is filled with easy conversation. He talks about the movie, rambling about the director’s other films, his company was really nice, actually. Every now and then, my shoulder brushes his, and I swear I catch him glancing at me from the corner of his eye. Wasn’t something bothering, but it’s kinda… weird?

When we finally reach Gerard’s place, he fumbled with his keys at the front door, a little too eager.

- My parents aren’t home… - He said, being a bit surprised - Well, I'm gonna fix the things in my room in the basement… Can you wait a minute?

he scratched the back of his neck, apparently nervous, so I let out a smile in an attempt to comfort him. I understand that since we hadn't arranged it beforehand, he didn't have time to prepare or anything.

- Sure!

- I’ll be right back - Gerard rushed to his basement, and I stayed in the living room of Way’s house.

Looking around, I saw family pictures, some paints on the wall, books, a pretty carpet… It was a pretty house. Wasn’t long before Gerard returned from the basement, nodding and beckoning me to follow.

Wasn’t the first time I went to his basement, but I was never alone with him.

It’s cluttered but cozy, just like the other times: comics spread out on his bed, action figures on shelves, and posters of old movies plastered along the walls. His bed was covered with a batman sheet, and he gestures toward it with an awkward smile.

- Make yourself comfortable. - Again, he rushed away, going to the kitchen - I’ll grab drinks.

I sat down, noticing the little details scattered everywhere. He even has a stack of DVDs, just waiting to be watched. It’s easy to see how much of himself Gerard has poured into this space, and somehow, that makes it feel intimate.

He came back with two cans of soda, handing me one as he flops onto the bed beside me. His knee bumped into mine, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he pressed play on the remote, the movie starting with a dramatic, over-the-top horror intro.

As the lights dim and the movie flickers to life, I notice Gerard sneaking a glance my way. It’s quick, like he’s checking to see if I’m still there or if I’ve evaporated into thin air. He shifted in his seat, awkwardly pulling his hoodie sleeves over his hands.

I tried to focus on the screen, I really do, but out of nowhere, his hand brushes against mine. It was kind of an accidental touch, my heart raced, but I didn’t move it.

After some seconds of just the sound of the movie filling the room, Gerard cleaned his throat and took a deep breath, like he was trying to take courage to say something.

- Y’know… - I turned my attention to him - I’ve been wanting to do this for a while.

I Glance at him, and he’s looking at the TV like he’s afraid it might explode if he makes eye contact with me.

- Do what? - I asked, trying not to sound as jittery as I feel.

- Uh... spend time with just you. - He scratched the back of his neck, and his gaze moved from the tv to me.

I didn’t know what to say, so I defaulted to my nervous habit, fiddling with my bracelet, twisting it around my wrist like it holds the answer to every awkward situation. Gerard noticed, of course, because apparently, he has a PhD in Me Studies.

- You don’t have to be nervous, sugar.

“Sugar”? He never called me that way before. But he kept talking, like it wasn’t a big deal. I did not protest, I actually kinda liked it.

- You always mess with that bracelet when you’re nervous. - He said like it was something obvious - It’s... kinda cute.

I shifted slightly, trying to get comfortable, only to realize: Gerard isn’t watching the movie. He’s watching me. And he’s terrible at being subtle about it.

Before I can process what’s happening, he slips his hand into mine, like a middle-schooler figuring out how to hold hands for the first time. His palm is warm, a little sweaty, okay, a lot of sweat, but weirdly... I didn’t mind.

It wasn't as if I didn't like him, maybe I really liked him too, I'd just never thought about it before. Back to the movie, my mind was filled with a million other things to think about, so I couldn't even focus on looking at the screen. My gaze traveled around the room, but something caught my eye: a small, familiar notebook lying half-tucked beneath a pile of DVDs on the coffee table really close to his bed.

The same notebook Gerard always carries with him at school, the one he’s always scribbling in during lunch or between classes. I couldn’t help myself to take advantage of Gerard's distraction, and I flipped it open. 

My eyes went wide and my heart skipped a beat when I saw what was inside that notebook. Pages and pages of photos of me. Some printed, others cut out from old Polaroids. All of them are candid shots, taken without my knowledge. There’s one of me smoking behind the bleachers, another of me laughing with Mikey, and several from school, walking to class, sitting at my desk, leaning against my locker.

Each one is accompanied by small, scribbled notes in Gerard’s messy handwriting. Things like “She looks so pretty here.” or “I wish this was just the two of us.” … Along with sketches of portraits, pieces of comics that meant something in our “relationship”. There were sketches of us together, drawn in different comic styles, one of us as Jedi, another as superheroes, and even one as cartoon vampires, all accompanied by little speech bubbles with inside jokes.

Every page flipped, I got even more shocked about the large amount of content he has there. Things from years ago, and the last things were from the last days.

- Hey... What are you looking at? - His voice is soft, but there’s an edge to it now, a note of panic creeping in.

I glance up to see Gerard frozen in place, his hazel eyes wide with fear as he notices the notebook in your hands.

- W-where did you…? - He mumbled, turning bright red, embarrassed - Uh... I can explain! Wait, no, I mean- don't freak out... It’s... okay, it looks bad, but it’s not that bad.

He let go from my hand and got up, rubbing his hands together nervously. he began to pant, and his countenance indicated that he was desperately looking for an excuse.

- Well, it is exactly what it looks like! - I yell, turning back to the notebook, still shocked, analyzing every page.

He turned around, rubbing one of his hands over his face in a messy motion. Before long, he began to walk around the room in circles, while his shaky voice continued to speak.

- Oh God, I’m gonna die. Yep. This is how I die. - he murmured to himself, before facing me again - Just bury me under these comics.

Before i could say anything, he blurts:

- Okay, look… it’s not like I’m a total creep, okay? I-I just... thought you looked cool... like, really cool, and, um - The words rushed out of his mouth, as if he had stopped thinking and was just throwing anything to ease the situation -… okay, I might have taken some pictures without asking… b-but it’s not like ‘weird’ weird! It’s... more... uh... admiration?

I couldn't hide my look of confusion. At the same time as I wanted to get out of there, I didn't want to. It was obviously strange, but at the same time it was adorable the way he noticed me. The things he wrote in that notebook said so much more than I could have imagined he felt. Not giving me time to think about what to say, he kept going.

- I thought, y'know, maybe if I... cataloged- no, wait, bad word… uh, recorded...? - He groans - I swear I sound less creepy in my head.

- Look, I was gonna tell you... - He insists, fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie. - I mean, not like this, obviously. 

He catched my confused expression and groans again.

-Ugh, you probably think I’m a total loser now.

The more he spoke, the less frightening the situation became and the cuter he seemed to me. So I stood up, in a failed attempt to calm him down, but the result was the complete opposite.

- Wait! Please don’t go. I-I know this is... a lot. But I promise I’m not some psycho. - He pauses, then adds, - Like, I’m awkward, not dangerous! 

I don't know where that feeling came from. Maybe it's always been there. I wanted to hug him, kiss him and tell him that it was fine, that I knew he wasn’t a psycho. 

 - Okay, okay! I know I’m weird, but... don’t leave me hanging here. Please. I really... like you. - the statement caught me off guard. it's not as if it wasn't obvious, but I wasn't prepared.  -  Like, more than I ever thought possible.

The way he looks at me, a perfect mix of nervous wreck and hopeful puppy is strangely endearing. Something about his awkward honesty makes it impossible to walk away. So I finally react, letting a grin escape from the corner of my lip. 

- You’re such a dork, Gee. - I chuckled, and his eyes opened wide.

- W-wait, does that mean…? - A confused happiness made Gerard freeze and look directly at me. 

-Yeah. - I approached him, smiling and rolling my eyes - I think I like you too, you idiot.

-Oh my God… - his hazel eyes glowed and a huge smile formed in his pink lips - this is like one of those rom-coms where the nerd actually wins?!

I shook my head, laughing at his words. He’s still red-faced and fumbling, but it’s clear now: he’s just a lovable, geeky mess who adores me in his own awkward way.

- No pressure or anything, but, uh... If we were in a romance movie, this would be the part where the two leads kiss.

I chuckled and my lips reached his. The warm sensation filled my body, the kiss was sloppy and desperate, felt like something he was holding for too long, something he couldn’t deal with anymore. His hands held my waist, and I wrapped my arms around his neck. He let out a soft moan and pulled back only to whisper:

- This feels like... you know... that scene in Return of the Jedi when-

- Gerard, - I interrupted, laughing. - Less Star Wars and more kissing, please.

- Right, yeah, sorry. - He turned bright red.

Gerard catched my lips again, deeper this time, with a bit more confidence. His hand slid to my waist, thumb brushing lazy circles against my skin, and his tongue explored my mouth, while he laid me down on his bed. His lips trailing down to my neck, scattering kisses that made my whole body buzz.

-You smell amazing. Like... that forest level in that one game. You know, the one where…

He trailed off, realizing how silly it sounded, but the look on his face was too earnest to be embarrassed.

- You are such a dork. - I laughed again, running my fingers through his messy hair. 

- Yeah, but I’m your dork, - he murmured, nuzzling into the crook of my neck, planting soft kisses along my collarbone.

His touch was gentle but hungry, as if each kiss, each brush of his fingers, was an apology for all the moments he’d spent longing for this. 

When he slid his hands under my shirt, he paused, looking at me with wide, nervous eyes. 

- Is this... okay? - he asked, shyly. The insecurity in his tone of voice was adorable, no more so than the sparkle in his eyes as he saw me give him a nod, lifting my arms so he could pull the shirt over my head. His gaze lingered on me, admiration glowing in his eyes. - Wow... You’re so -

- Gerard.-  I touched his face, guiding him back down for another kiss. - You’re doing fine.

He smiled, clearly relieved, and kissed me again, this time more eagerly. His hands, still trembling slightly, found their way to the button of my jeans. He fumbled for a moment, biting his lip in concentration. 

Once my jeans were off, he took a moment to just look at me, his hands resting on my hips as if grounding himself. 

- I don’t want to mess this up -  he whispered. 

- You’re not messing anything up, Gee..- i calmed him, brushing a thumb over his flushed cheek - Just... keep going

That was all the encouragement he needed. He kissed me again, his hands moving with a little more certainty now, sliding beneath my bra to touch bare skin. I gasped, arching into his touch, and he let out a shaky breath, somewhere between a moan and a laugh.

When he finally got out of his clothes, struggling with his belt in the process,

 -  Stupid thing… -  he muttered  flustered and I couldn't stop smiling. 

He was trying so hard, and there was something endearing about how eager yet unsure he was.

He kissed me again, slower this time, savoring the moment as his hands trailed down to my thighs, spreading them gently. His boxers were the last to go, and when I felt him against me, the heat between us became impossible to ignore.

- I’ve dreamed about this, - Gerard admitted breathlessly, kissing the side of my neck. - About you... For so long.

I felt my body react to him instinctively, desire building with every brush of his skin against mine. When he paused, hovering just at the edge, his eyes searched mine one last time.

- Is this okay? -  he whispered, his voice low and full of both need and vulnerability.

- Yes,-  I breathed, wrapping my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. - I want this, Gee.

And then, with a slow, careful thrust, his cock was inside me. I gasped, gripping his hair as my body adjusted to the sensation. The burn was sweet and overwhelming.

He started moving, hesitant at first, like he was still learning how to sync with me. But every time I moaned his name, he seemed to gain a little more confidence, his rhythm becoming more certain, more desperate.

The heat between us grew, the room filled with soft gasps and whispered encouragement. His hands roamed my body, one settling on my waist, the other cradling my face as if I were something precious. As deeper he was coming I felt the tension coil in my stomach, tighter and tighter, until I was teetering right on the edge. 

- I’m close…

- Do it, sugar, - he panted, his voice thick with need. - Cum for me.

With a final thrust, the pleasure crashed over me like a wave. I clenched around him, clinging to him, nails digging into his back as I moaned his name, lost in the intensity of it.

Gerard groaned, his movements faltering as he reached his own release. The warmth of the ropes of his cum filling me up pushed me deeper into my own bliss, and we stayed like that, tangled together, catching our breath.

He pressed a lazy kiss to my shoulder, his body still trembling slightly. 

- Wow… -  he whispered, sounding both dazed and amazed. - That was... better than any dream I’ve ever had.

I laughed softly, brushing damp hair from his forehead. 

- Yeah. Way better.

___________________________________________

~ sooo, that's it! Let me know if you liked! :)

[thebluester2020]

Omg, requests open! Love your work! Hope you are doing well. Could I request a NSFW SDV Elliott x a reader who is somewhat quiet in bed? I Hope it’s ok to just request one character, if not that’s ok! Thank you ><

SDV + RSV character(s) x Reader Whose Quiet (In Bed)

Thank you for the compliment anon! I hope you're having a good day or night wherever you are! I took the liberty of adding another character because I gotta get back on the grind of simping for RSV Jio 😔

Warning(s): Munch Elliot, Suggestiveness in Jio's part (not really smut but more so heavy make-out + touching over clothing), Mean! Jio (I subscribe to the religion of this man being tastefully mean 😪)

Elliot

You were quite talkative in public, talkative and bubbly. The epitome of a golden retriever that had somehow managed to turn into a person.

Not that he minded, of course. Your sunny personality was a balm to his senses whenever you graced him with your presence, and when you visited his cabin and talked about your day. It immediately lifted him from whatever mood or writer’s block he may have found himself in moments prior! Beauty and confidence aside, along with the fact you loved him for who he was unabashedly and supported him with his writing as ardently as an adoring fan. Your personality was the reason he fell for you so quickly, why, whenever he found himself walking around town. He automatically tried searching you out, as if he were a flower searching and trying to reach for the slightest hint of sunlight.

Which is why…he just couldn’t understand why your personality changed so differently when it was just the two of you alone.

He’d admit that it was adorable, how you’d suddenly become shy when he was around you even when you were the one who invited him to your home in the first place! When he would place an innocent hand on your shoulder and peck your cheek, you’d blush so fiercely that he feared sometimes that you would pass out on him.

And your shyness only increased tenfold when the two of you were intimate together, to the point where you’d immediately go silent on him and nearly turn into statue as he’d worship your body.

Like now, for example.

“Is there something I’m doing wrong?” He murmured, looking up at your blushing face through his lashes from his position between your thighs. He pressed a loving yet lustful kiss against your sex before he tilted his head up more, becoming more concerned for your wellbeing each second your were quiet. Did you require something different for your pleasure? If you weren’t feeling up to having sex with him tonight, he wouldn’t mind that either! All he wanted was for you to be comfortable- “I-It’s not that,” You finally answered, your chest heaving as if you had just ran a marathon.

“My voice…” You paused for a moment. “I-I sound weird.”

Elliot would have laughed if he hadn’t saw that there wasn’t an ounce of joking on your features. “Sound weird?” He parroted. You shuddered when his hands began to trail up and down your sides, each caress leaving goosebumps in their wake as you sighed pleasurably at Elliot’s touches. “It’s true,” You said. “A-At least I think so…I thought you’d be tired of my voice by now. I always talk in public.”

He chuckled at your ridiculous statement, his hands slowly finding their way back to your twitching sex as his fingers started to trail up and down your glistening entrance. His cock twitched and strained against the sheets of the bed at your quiet gasp. “I could never tire of your voice, darling.” He whispered. You shuddered at the feeling of his breath grazing so closely against you, you wanted to tell him to fuck you with his fingers, suck your clit, anything! So long as it meant that he’d finally stop teasing you. “In fact…I’d prefer if you’d grace me with it more often-“ And without even offering you a warning first, Elliot’s lips were wrapped around your clit. The shocking pleasure making your back arch as you threatened to tear the sheets underneath you as you sharply sucked in a breath.

That wouldn’t do.

His newfound goal for tonight was to be rewarded with your lovely noises, hence is why he soon added his fingers to the mixture. First one and then quickly two, both digits began to gently plunge in and out of your pussy before steadily picking up speed. Soon, soft breaths escaped from between your swollen lips, your chest heaving up and down from the pleasure as well as the effort of attempting to keep yourself quiet. “E-Elliot…” You moaned. He swore he could’ve cum right then and there at your voice.

He parted only briefly from your cunt to praise you. "Yes...that's it," He praised, pressing a brief kiss to your throbbing clit. "Keep making those beautiful sounds for me, my dear." Another sharp moan tore from your throat when he resumed sucking your clit, his fingers beginning to curl and press against your spongey g-spot. Your thighs twitched around his head, your hands flying to tangle themselves in your lover's hair as your chest heaved up and down from your impending orgasm.

Lewd slurping sounds echoed the room along with your increasing noises, his fingers quickening their pace of plunging in and out of your crying pussy. "E-Elliot..." You whispered. He looked at you through hooded eyes before he lightly nipped at your clit, the tinge of pain making you squeak. "Are you close?" He whispered. You sweetly nodded your head. "Please..." You begged.

Oh, he was more than happy to oblige. Your sweet pleas alone could make him fall to his knees in service to you, but, he was determined to have to you beg for him a little louder. "Not sure if I can hear you, dear." He said. Your eyes widened when you felt his fingers slowing.

"W-What are you—"

"You know what I want, my love." He flattened his tongue and dragged it up your sex, smirking at you like a wickedly handsome devil as he slicked your slick off from the sides of his lips. "No matter how cute you are...quiet girls don't get to cum," He said.

You blushed at his dominance. "Elliot...please—"

His head tilted, pieces of his hair falling in front of his face at the action. "Hm?" He hummed curiously. "If I can't hear my love...I suppose I have to assume that you don't want to continue—"

"N-No!" You gasped, grabbing his hand when he made a move to shuffle himself away from you. Elliot couldn't help the smirk that made its way to his lips. "Please...Elliot, m-make me cum!" You said a little louder. "Don't stop—Oh!" You loudly groaned when Elliot immediately restarted his pace from earlier, his fingers immediately finding your g-spot whilst his lips returned to kissing and sucking your clit. You felt your orgasm beginning to build up again, your slick dripping from your entrance and onto the bedsheets whilst the knot in the pit of your gut started to tighten more and more.

"C-Close...! Pleasepleaseplease don't stop..." Your lover moaned against your cunt at your desperate pleas, pre-cum dripping from his cock as he desperately wanted to sink himself into you. But, he was determined to make you cum from his mouth first. To focus on your pleasure before his own. "Go ahead and cum for me, love..." Elliot mumbled, the feeling of your fingers tightening their grip on his hair making him groan, the reverberation against your clit shooting you closer to your orgasm. "I've got you," He assured you.

As if on command through the words of assurance alone, you were sent over the edge. A shrill scream of pleasure escaping from your lungs as your legs flailed out, shockwaves of pleasure rushing throughout your veins as all you could do was lay there and cum. When you let out a whine of overstimulation, Elliot slowly took his fingers from your pussy before placing a kiss on your thigh out of apology.

"What a lovely voice you have, my love..." Your lover praised. "Let's take a quick break before we practice using those lungs of yours some more, hm?"

Jio

Both of you were as quiet as a pair of church mice. But...you understood each other despite the silence.

Where your silence was born out of being shy around the elf, his seriousness in combination with how handsome he was constantly twisting your tongue each time you wanted to utter a single word to him. Jio's silence was born from his observational skills, being able to quiet deduct things about a person by simply letting them talk on and on, or allowing them to do things that would give the elf hints into their thought process or personality. Something that he had been doing to you in particular for the past few weeks since you had closed the Spirit Realm and effectively ended Gabriella's control over the Ridge.

He wouldn't allow himself to get distracted, nor to trust you so easily!

But he saw how shy you became whenever you were around him, as if you were constantly on the verge of saying something before ultimately deciding to not say anything.

As much as he wanted to say that it didn't bother him, that he preferred your silence and you avoiding him completely rather than talking to him. Curiosity was getting the best of him, you'd constantly show up to greet him, offering him a simple wave before standing still for a few seconds. He'd wait to see if you'd say anything before you'd quickly turn to run off.

It was driving him nuts.

So, he confronted you about it.

"If you have something to say, speak," Jio said immediately when you had entered the cabin, possibly to do your daily greeting of him before you'd turn tail to run off again.

You flinched a little at his harsh tone. "What are you talking about?"

"What do you mean? You always run away after waving at me, even when you clearly have something to tell me." Your brow rose in surprise, with how much the elf's eyes were closed in meditation. You had always assumed that he didn't even know you were there half of the time! But, it did make you more nervous as you struggled to put your thoughts together. "I...I don't have anything to say." You mumbled.

Jio narrowed his eyes at you as he slowly stood up and closed the distance between the you. Before you had even realized it, your back was pressed against a wall and your eyes were wide as the ninja stood over you with a sharp glare in his eyes. "Really?" He noted the way your cheeks began to redden in color, your hands balling into fists at your sides as the gears steadily began to turn in his mind.

Oh.

"You have a crush on me?" The way he sneered almost made you feel ashamed of your feelings, which is why you had waited so long to admit your feelings to him, to begin with! Much less try to work up the courage to say a single word to him. "If you don't like me back, you don't have to tease me—"

"I'm not teasing," Jio interrupted you. "I'm stating the truth, aren't I?"

There was a moment of silence before you nodded your head. Jio hummed, pleased at your honesty before his hand moved to cup your chin, leaning closer to your face. "Then...you shouldn't mind me kissing you, right?" He waited for your consent, your eyes as wide as a deer caught in the headlights before you nodded your head. A quiet moan slipped from your lips when Jio slotted his lips against your own, the softness shocking you almost as much as his taste.

He tasted like berries. Grapes and blackberries. The shockingly sweet taste mixed in with his earthy scent made your mind spin as your arms looped around his neck, pulling him closer to your body. "More talkative with your actions, huh?" Jio whispered against your lips. He could barely stand to stay away from your lips for even a second, not even allowing you a chance to respond before he pressed his lips against your mouth once more. Your taste was addicting to the elf, he lightly bit your lower lip before he slipped his tongue in when you gasped.

You reminded hm of...candy. Perhaps you had just finished eating some before you had come to him. It was a fitting taste, befitting of you with how sweetly you were acting for him, clinging to him as if he were your lifeline.

Romance and getting so close to a human...it wasn't like him. In fact, he shouldn't have even entertained the notion of you having feelings towards him to begin with. But, he'd be a fool to deny that he had an interest in you as well. "Such a needy farmer, you are..." The elf chuckled against your lips. "You must really like me..." His hand started to travel south, all before he flipped up your skirt to press the pad of his finger against your covered cunt. You gasped when he began to tease your clit over your clothes.

You parted from his mouth, a string of spit still connecting the both of you as you looked at your crush with teary eyes. "D-Don't tease..." You quietly begged.

He clicked his tongue. "What? I couldn't quite catch that—" You whined when his finger began to intensely focus on your bud, his circling growing faster and faster to the point where your legs began to shake. Jio smirked cruelly as he felt you soak your panties with your slick, as if you were balancing a fine line between cumming and not cumming. And he was fine with keeping you on that line until you learned to open your mouth more around him. "—I guess you like being edged, right? That's fine, I rather have a free schedule today." Jio moved to whisper in your ear, lightly biting the shell of your ear before laughing breathlessly at your moan.

"What's say you farmer? You want to be edged on your crush's fingers?"

Even when you shook your head, your arms tightening around his neck. He wasn't having it. "I don't answer silence farmer, best to learn to speak up before we're here all day." You opened and closed your mouth rapidly, your throat suddenly dry as if you hadn't taken a sip of water in days. "P-Please...make me cum," You begged as loud as your brian would allow you to. "Don't edge me Jio...please,"

He'd have to take it.

"Alright, then farmer," He chuckled, his finger tugging your panties down enough for him to feel the heat of your dripping sex, all before he directly touched your cunt. You felt like you could've come on the spot. "Let's see if you'll get even louder like this, hm?"

[fallingforfelix]

❛❛midas touch❞

큐피드의 화살은 눈이 멀 수도 있지만 항상 마음 속에 그 표시를 찾아냅니다.

cupid's arrow may be blind, but it always finds its mark in the heart.

.° ༘🎀⋆🩰₊˚ෆ

synopsis: kinktober day #1 — hair pulling (trichophilia)

pairing: roomate!felix x fem!reader

content: 18+/explicit (MDNI tyvm), viewer discretion advised, so highly suggestive it’s probably considered smut, college au, second person view, older fem reader, mature and unestablished relationships

warnings: noona kink, colour word system used, profanities and suggestive language, teasing, bruising and consensual pain, bdsm power play and loss of control, mentions of orgasms, age gap, coercion, whiny kink, dom reader and sub lix, hair tugging, begging kink if you squint, mentions of oral sex, pain kink i guess, dry humping, begging, pet names (pretty boy, angel, doll, good boy, love, sweetheart), hickeys

word count: 2.3K (2392)

note: i wanted to commit to the ‘kinktober’ trend, but…four days in and not looking very strong😓😓 i also wanted to post something for channie’s bday yesterday but that didn’t happen either :( the smut scene was supposed to be wayyyy longer but i kept on having unsystematic bursts of motivation and really needed to upload some content. i think tmrw i’ll try to write smth, maybe fake texts or a short story where the reader/felix/another member comes to terms with their kink but nothing smutty actually happens. i might even be able to sneak in a fluffy kinks drabble later tonight but that’s probably just a load of big talk. anyways i hope you guys really do enjoy this🫶

inspired by: rosy by @rosylix, slowly to me by @jilixthinker, and pretty please by @naeviskz

song reference: midas touch by kiss of life

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“lee felix!”

you had entered the dorm, only a few minutes prior to felix’s arrival. and much to your dismay, the sight of an empty cookie jar greeted you, its desolate state an affront to your cravings.

the racket of keys stirred your senses, and the squeak of his high tops along the wooden floor announced his arrival. you called out, your tone laced with disappointment.

the aussie‘s head protruded from

the around the corner. “is something wrong noona?”

your gaze narrowed. “you know exactly what’s wrong, lix. i’ve been craving those cookies all day!”

a sheepish look crept across his face. "oh, uh, about those..." he began, scratching the back of his head.

you sighed heavily. “you owe me.”

“yeah, yeah,” felix drawled as he advanced towards the couch on which you were accommodated.

as he walked over to you, his blonde locks caught your eyes. felix’s hair was styled in two braids that were gently woven from the crown of his head, cascading down either side of his head like two delicate rivers of gold. each braid was tightly woven, with subtle wisps framing his face.

he plopped down beside you, his nonchalance testing your patience. a lecture about the sanctity of shared snacks brewed on your lips, but a mischievous spark intervened. your hand darted out, tugging at one of felix’s braids in protest.

you expected defiance, not a high-pitched whine that fled his lips as he tried extracting his braid from your grasp.

you stared at him, your heart skipped a beat at the unexpected vulnerability, and it took him a moment to cognise what he just did. felix’s face flushed pink, his relatively small hand rose to cover his pink, plump lips, and he breathed in shakily.

for a moment, the dynamics shifted, and perhaps it was a hormonal surge, or some other weird psychological phenomenon, but suddenly you found yourself conquered by a newfound self-assurance.

felix’s eyes met yours, a flicker of euphoria in his gaze, ignoring the unspoken tension that had just become palpable to him too.

“well, well, well,” you smirked, your vision tracing the blush that now dusted felix’s cheeks. “that was quite the intriguing sound you just made, pretty boy. mind if i uh…hear it again?”

felix’s dark eyes clouded with guilt as he hesitated, but you tightened your grip on his braid, the motion eliciting another sharp whine from his lips.

“n-noona. please,” he spoke breathily.

“captivating,” you purred, the fingers on your spare hand tracing the contours of felix’s jawline. “i didn’t realise you could make such…arousing noises, love.”

“you’re enjoying this…aren’t you?” he asked, his voice trembling.

you chuckled, otherwise ignoring his question. “you know, i’ve never thought about this before,” you mused as you continued to hold felix’s braid. “but these braids of yours really suit you.”

felix’s breathing was now noticeably shallower, his chest rising and falling at a rapid pace. he tried to speak, but the words got caught in his throat, replaced by another whimper as you wrenched on his braid, this time even harder than the last.

“please,” he managed to say, his voice a hoarse whisper, “i can’t...i need—“

your smirk widened as you heard the desperation in felix’s voice. you could feel the heat and tension radiating off of him, and it was clearly affecting him just as much as it was affecting you.

“hearing you like this…it does something to me,” you whispered, voice low and husky, cradling his braid.

“please,” he asked again, his voice thick with need. “touch me. i n-need to aah feel you. please.”

your heart was racing now, the sound of felix’s voice and the way he was begging for your touch driving you wild. you wanted nothing more than to give him what he was asking for, but there was a part of you that wanted to tease him just a little more.

“i think i’ve discovered a secret of yours, angel,” you murmured, leaning closer to felix. his ears flushed crimson as he attempted to turn away.

slowly, you reached out to his other braid, toying with it between your fingers before giving it a light pull. felix involuntarily let out a soft whimper, his eyes widening in surprise at the sudden intensity.

your lips curled into a sly smile, relishing the effect you had on him. “it seems like i’ve got a little weak spot, don’t i?”

felix’s voice dripped with smug satisfaction. “oh, you definitely do,” his words laced with a thick, raspy undertone, which, despite your dominant position, left your head reeling.

you released one braid, your fingers drifting up to softly cup felix’s chin, guiding his gaze to meet yours. his eyes were now visibly darker, a mix of shock and arousal, as he struggled to regain composure.

“you have no idea how much it excites me to hear you making these sounds,” you whispered, your thumb tracing the lines of his parted lips. “absolutely intoxicating, lixie.”

“feels like you’re shre—shredding my sanity, noona…” felix gasped.

“oh but look at you doll,” you purred, your eyes roaming all over his flushed face. “all red and flustered, it’s adorable.”

“i am not adorable. i’m supposed to be…to be hot mm. you’re supposed to be c-cumming at my blissedth state,” big talk for someone who was still trying to gather his thoughts, felix’s mind a jumble of sensations. and with each passing second, your words and touches were making him more and more unravelled.

“hot? you’re incandescent, felix, burning me up with every whimper. but let's see who breaks first—your control or my restraint,” you replied.

“i don't know how m-much longerrr i can...ah, fuck,” another drag at felix’s braid, securing a lewd groan from him.

“i could get addicted to these little noises you make,” you continue, your fingers now delicately outlining his jawline. “i’d make you whimper and whine and beg for more.”

“y-you’re already making me. you’re, you’re playing dirty…stop gloating mm,” he spoke, trembling.

“dirty? you have no idea how filthy i can be. and i'm just getting started. unless you want me to stop? or do you want me to push you further?” you grinned like a crescent moon, knowing felix’s resolve was crumbling with each passing moment.

“you’re insane... but i think i’m cra-zier for ngh wanting more,” felix slurred.

your breath hot against his ear, you whispered. “just imagine how you sound when i do…this.”

with a single, swift movement, you tugged harshly on both braids, pulling his back to expose his neck. felix let out a guttural moan, his eyes fluttering shut as the sensations coursed through him.

“oh, god…” felix whined, his body arching, yielding to your touch.

you took your chance. holding your breath, you leaned towards felix’s exposed neck, and you latched your lips onto the upper edge of his collarbone. gently at first, although the sudden contact seemed to have already aroused him judging by the way his body jerked at your touch.

a stifled gasp slipped from between felix’s lips as your tongue darted across his skin, making his adam’s apple bob as he swallowed heavily, fighting the urge to make any more sounds.

“aw don’t get all shy now pretty boy. let noona hear those angelical noises,” you teased, detaching yourself from his skin with a slight drag of teeth.

you licked a strip across the sensitive skin of where you just kissed him. felix did not hesitate this time, eluding a low groan which contrasted from his whines.

you began to suck at a new spot on his neck, closer to where his adam’s apple was, his braids still tightly in your grasp. you could feel the way his pulse was thrumming though his veins under your lips. felix’s hands, which had been laying uselessly at his side, jerked up to grip at your waist as an act of steadying himself.

his grip on your waist was hard, his fingers practically digging into your skin as he struggled to keep himself from trembling. felix’s breathing hitched in his throat as you continued to lavish his sensitive spot with attention, your tongue leaving a wet path in its wake. 

your hand progressed upwards, solidifying itself at the base of felix’s hair, holding as tight as ever. he let out sobs in pain and pleasure.

he started to feel light-headed, tipsy, overwhelmed by the feeling of heat rushing through him, spreading lower throughout his body. felix’s usually rational mind was fogged by the sensation of your hand in his hair, and your mouth on his throat.

he was losing control, and he knew that he couldn't take much more of this.

and neither could you.

you could feel the heat pooling in your stomach, your own desire growing stronger by the second. you couldn’t resist him any longer. the way felix was unraveling under your touch, the sight of him desperate and needy, was too much to handle. you wanted him, you needed him just as badly.

you gave felix a particularly hard suck, pulling his skin in through your teeth. the whine that followed ripped at your core and you almost combusted on the spot. that had to have been the highest moan you had heard from him, from anyone at that. 

you lift your head up, gazing at the boy below you who was losing all coherent thought.

“colour, pretty boy?” you inquired, your lips throbbing from all the sucking.

“green…d-don’t stop. don’t ahh- fucking stop, noona-yah,” he panted, words illiterate.

your spare hand came up to rest upon felix’s right shoulder, rubbing smooth, consoling circles around the area.

you swooped your head again, your warm breath dancing across the skin of his neck for mere seconds before you latched yourself onto his neck, now directly on top of his adams’s apple.

“ooh…ooh f-fuck noona! ye-yes! mm, harder…” the noises he was making were blood curdling, toe curling even.

you swear you just cummed. you gushed with slick, your own body quivering now. the temptation to let go of felix and please yourself seemed like a losing battle.

instead, you relaxed your full weight upon felix’s lap, rocking your hips onto his erection, and oh boy, he was rock hard.

he exhaled another huff, followed by a string of curses and other incoherent words. you lost suction of the hickey you were forming, smiling lowly into his skin. as if it wasn’t already obvious that you had him right where you wanted him, and still pushing him over the edge.

you attacked his adam’s apple for the second time, opening your mouth wider to tease a larger area of his skin. his hips subconsciously bucked upwards into you, earning a sigh on your end. your warm breath on the newly-formed hickey sent felix into complete overdrive.

his hands slipped past the upper edge of your sweatpants, expertly finding the waistband of your panties, pulling the lace into view and rising it up level to your hip line. you winced in pain as felix began fingering your lingerie, occasionally bumping the side of your hip, where he had left bruises from his tight grip earlier on.

the hand that was on felix’s shoulder jerked up to his braids once more. you ran your fingers through the plaits, unravelling them like you unravelled their owner, leaving waves in his milky blonde tousles.

you kissed the spot where you were marking your possession, moving your placement to the underside of his defined jaw, teeth gnashing at his freckled skin. his laboured breathing echoed through the room, a symphony of surrender.

“s’good…oh you’re so g-good noona. what have i…been m-missing out onn?” felix spluttered.

you just yanked his hair in response, his braids now completely unthreaded. every word and every sound he expressed ignited your nerves, set your heart alight. your oxygen was depleting steadily, but you weren’t going to stop and take a breathe. you were going to suck felix’s skin to the death and die a happy woman.

but as that thought was revolving around your brain like an eagle circling it’s prey, felix came to an abrupt halt, releasing your lingerie and letting it hit your skin like rubber ricochetting. he mustered the strength to grip your shoulders, before gently prising you off him. a look of concern came over you, worry concealing the lust in your eyes.

“felix, sweetheart, i’m so sorry…are you hurt? what did i do?“ you voiced, exasperated.

“noo i’m all good…y-you’re all good, noona-yah. oh you’re fucking, fucking phenommmenal, god. i just…i need a favour,” felix tripped over his words.

“of course. anything, felix, you’ve been such a good boy. just tell me what you need. let me take care of you,” you replied.

your expression was filled with concern, worry, and just a hint of lust as your eyes travelled over his body, taking in his red face, messy hair, and heaving chest.

felix’s heart slammed into his rib cage, as his eyes locked with yours. he took a deep breath, feeling the air catch in his throat as he tried to speak.

“n-noona,” he murmured, his cheeks flushed an even darker shade of red. “i need you to…can you let me…?”

your heart skipped as you heard the hitch in his voice, they way it trembled with need and desire. you knew what he wanted, you had made him fall apart under your touch just a moment ago, but you had to hear him say it.

you leaned closer, moving your body against his, letting your breath brush against his ear as you encouraged him.

“tell me, pretty. tell me what you need.”

a full body shiver ran through felix as your breath ghosted over his skin, sending a wave of heat straight to his core. he closed his eyes, drowning in the sensation of your body so close to his, the weight of your words in his ears.

he swallowed hard, his voice quiet and husky again as he finally spoke.

“…can you hold my hair back…whilst i ea-eat you out? please?”

oh. well, you thought that he was going to ask you to suck hickeys onto him further down, on his chest maybe. or he might’ve asked for you to kiss him.

but when your pretty roommate offers to give you head, are you really one to decline it?

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part 2??

©fallingforfelix, 2024 tag if inspired

[hyunniesgirl]

Tease

Pairing: Changbin x fem!reader

Summary: tired of months of teasing, Changbin just wants to have you and he's going to do anything to make you his.

Or, the one where you were kink shamed and can't trust sexual partners anymore, until Changbin shows up and sweeps you off your feet.

Words count: 4,281

Warnings: dom!Changbin, sub!reader, throat fucking, slaps(?), degradation, oral(f & m receiving), spit, use of pet names(bunny, baby), reader is called names(whore), unprotected sex(use protection irl), let me know if I forgot something

A/N: as usual let me say that I can't write smut to save my life, but I got this idea a few weeks ago and left it in my drafts, then I received this ask and I thought it fits so yeah that's it

This content is 18+, minors do NOT interact

The first time you had sex, was weird. You thought that maybe it was always like that, maybe you really wouldn't feel much pleasure on your first time.

Then, your second and third time came and you noticed you didn't feel the same way your friends told you they felt during sex. Even though you were attracted and even loved the people you slept with, you just didn't come, you didn't enjoy having sex.

That was, until a guy you dated slapped you, while trying to change positions. Although it was unintentional, that was the first time you ever moaned for real while having sex with another person. You two stopped for a moment, him trying to process what just happened and you coming to a realization: maybe, you were just going about sex the wrong way, maybe you didn't explore your options enough.

You began researching, reading about kinks and whatnot. You asked your boyfriend for help, you wanted to try new things and after that, sex was finally good. You finally understood what your friends were talking about when they told you about their sex lives.

However, that didn't last for long. Your boyfriend was not as nice of a guy as you thought. You found out he actually shared every bit of your kinks with his friends, calling you weird and saying he just went along with it because you were attractive enough.

He left his phone unlocked while going to the bathroom and you saw a text of his friends, making fun of you and the things you like.

It's an understatement to say you were left traumatized after that relationship. You know there's absolutely nothing wrong with what you like in bed, but to trust someone again was too hard.

You were so afraid of going through the same thing again so you just stopped dating altogether.

With that being said, you didn't stop teasing. That is the only thing you can have while still not sleeping with men, so you enjoy making them suffer. Leave them hard and hanging, that's your thrill.

They would all give up in a bit, a few weeks of teasing, without actually sleeping with them was enough for them to be done with you.

Until you met him.

You knew you wanted Changbin since the first time you laid eyes on him. He's just so attractive you think you could cum just by looking at him flexing his muscles. He's big, so big he could probably break you in half if you let him.

You don't know what is it about him. You felt attracted to other guys like him before, gym bros are not usually your type but some catch your eye once in a while. However, Changbin has something more, he's not just hot. He's funny, a great dancer and he's just so sure about his masculinity that he doesn't see it necessary to keep reiterating it all the time like other guys do.

You still decided not to sleep with him, you are part of the same friend group, so he knows everyone you do. You really don't think he's the type to brag about his feats in bed but if he ever ended up being like your ex boyfriend, you would never be able to look at your friends again.

You are not ashamed of your preferences, but at the same time it's just something so intimate you wish only you and your partner would know about it.

You thought he would give up like the others, maybe in a month he would get over it and stop trying to win you over. But you were wrong, it's been months already and you're stuck in this cat and mouse situation with no sign of him letting go.

It all started when you met the boys for the first time. Your best friend, Ryunjin, talked all the time about these guys she met at a party, how they became super close and that you'd love them.

It was Ryunjin’s birthday, so you met them at a restaurant. Your eyes scanned through all of the boys when you arrived, they were all too good looking, is it even possible for a whole friend group of seven people to all be so damn attractive?

“Wait, seven? Didn't Ryunjin say they were eight?”

You felt a hand slightly touching your back, turning around to find kind eyes staring right back at you.

“Are you going to sit, miss?” He asked.

“Y-yes”, you stuttered, trying to compose yourself.

“Why were you so late?” Ryunjin asked, you're not sure if she's speaking to you or the guy.

“Traffic was insane”, you two answered together, snapping your heads to look at each other, smiling playfully.

“I'm Changbin, by the way”, he said, pointing at the empty seat and pulling the chair for you to sit.

“I'm y/n”, you answered shyly, seeing him sitting by your side even though there were plenty of seats available closer to his friends.

As you drank a bit through the night, you caught his lingering eyes on you too many times and you're sure he caught you eyeing him up too. He made jokes, throwing his arms to the back of your chair and coming closer to you.

The amount of times you just wanted to tell him to take you home was actually crazy, no man ever made you feel that way. The warmth you felt when he got close to you was something hard to explain, you felt all your insides turning around and your pussy was throbbing just by feeling his breath hitting on your skin when he turned in your direction to speak to you.

You were able to escape that night, forcing yourself to say goodbye and walk away with all the willpower you had in you.

Things didn't stop there, though. It became usual for you to hangout with the guys. They are always so nice and cheerful, it's great being around them.

Changbin is always close to you, making jokes so he can see your beautiful smile, taking the opportunity to touch you at every chance he gets. Sometimes he'll put his hand on your lower back while walking with you, other times he'll touch your arms while talking. If you are eating together, he'll nonchalantly lick his finger and press it to the corner of your mouth to clean the mess you made on your face, like that's not the hottest shit a man can do.

He's just always there, the first one to hug you when you arrive, the one who walks you to your car or uber when the night is over. His clothes are the ones you sleep in when they invite you to a sleepover and to say you don't have wet dreams all the time, while sleeping embraced by his scent, it would be a lie.

"Why don't you just fuck him?" Ryunjin asks, while you eye fuck Changbin from the other side of the room. You're in a corner of his living room, there's music playing in the background while everyone is waiting for the food you all ordered. He's looking so good with a black tight t-shirt that outlines all his muscles and baggy sweats that do little to hide his nice ass. You're probably drooling at this point.

“You know why”, you tell her, Ryunjin knows all about your bad experiences.

“You've known him for months now, it's obvious he's not like that prick of your ex”, she says and you nod, you do know it.

“It's just hard”, you sigh. Trusting someone again over something so delicate to you is difficult.

“Yeah, I get it”, she smiles sympathetically to you. “But you know he'll reach his limit at some point, right?”

“I don't know what you're talking about”, you say, looking at her with doe eyes and an angelic smile.

“You know exactly what I'm talking about”, Ryunjin rolls her eyes, “you've been playing this teasing game for a while and he'll get sick of it at some point”

It's true that you've been enjoying yourself since you noticed his interest in you and you did what you do best, tease.

You touch him all the time, while his touches are subtle and shy, you're much more obvious about it. You play with his hair when you're sitting close to each other, a leg over his. He's so respectful, his hands never go above your knees. You shamelessly touch his biceps, squeezing them while biting on your lips, oh how you wish this man would put you in a headlock with said biceps.

Every time you touch him, he gets horny, it's a spontaneous reaction that only you could cause. It never happened to him before, he dreams about the dirty things he could do to you. You're so fragile, so beautiful, he wants to ruin you, break you so no one would ever want you, then you'd be his forever.

While you're indeed afraid he'll get sick of your antics, Changbin is sure he'll never give up. He wanted you since the first moment your eyes locked with his and he'll make you his, no matter how long it takes.

"Wait", you say too loudly as soon as WAP starts playing, "THAT'S MY JAM", you grab Ryunjin's hand, making her stand up to dance with you.

You sing along, watching some of the boys coming up to you two, dancing around and laughing at your excitement.

Turning around, you look at the kitchen, seeing Changbin leaning against the counter, watching you. He would usually join the dance, but not tonight, his eyes are fixated on you, making you feel like you two are the only people in the room.

He has only a beer in his hand, a smirk on his lips and dirty thoughts in his mind. He decides that tonight you're going to pay for all the times you left him hard just for the fun of it.

You have no idea what's in store for you, so you keep teasing him, sliding your hands down your body, rolling your hips, staring shamelessly at Changbin.

You look around for a bit, making sure no one’s looking at your little scene. It's crazy how this song just makes you feel — horny and needy for someone that will really put you in your place. You sigh, looking back at Changbin, he's still watching you, a frown on his face now. He's muttering something you obviously can't hear because of the distance but his eyes are dark like you have never seen before.

The music ends leaving you satisfied with the results. Changbin is still staring at you, or better, eyefucking you.

The food you ordered doesn't take too long to arrive, so you sit happily at the table with everyone, talking like you didn't just make him get as hard as a rock just from your dancing. He feels like he's losing his mind, you're too much for him already and he didn't even fuck you yet.

You go to the bathroom before going home, you're kinda sleepy already so you want to wash your face so you won't fall asleep in the uber.

After throwing some water on your face, you stare at yourself in the mirror for a moment. You're such a coward, you wish you had the courage to make a move on Changbin for real.

Sighing, you get yourself together, opening the door ready to go home and forget this whole night. You didn't expect to bump into the man you so much desire right outside, leaning on the wall with his muscular arms crossed in front of his chest.

You flinch at the look he gives you, the smile that grows on his lips is everything but friendly, so on instinct you take a step back.

“H-hey”, you say, trying to recompose yourself. “Do you want to use the bathroom?” You step outside, awkwardly, leaving room for him to go inside.

“I sent everyone home”, he takes a deep breath, walking towards you. “Now it's just you and me, I think it's time for us to talk”

“Aren't we already doing that?” You laugh, sheepishly, stepping back again only to bump in the wall.

Changbin tsks, putting his hands on your waist and pressing his body against yours.

“It's time for you to stop playing games, bunny”, he tells you, he's too close, his nose is almost touching yours. “You fucked around enough already”

You feel the air get stuck in your throat, what are you going to do now? Your mind can't think of a way to get out of this situation and you feel like if you reject him now, it's over. You don't want it to be over, you want him so badly it's crazy.

Changbin sees the opening he needs, you're considering his proposition.

“Let me make you feel good, hm? I've been wanting you for so long, let me have you”, he continues, trying to persuade you. “I promise you won't regret it”

You can feel his hard cock pressing against your stomach, you want to let him do anything to you. The problem is the consequences later, but you decide to let the y/n of the future to handle that, you just want him to fuck you senseless right now.

You take a deep breath, nodding and in a split of a second his lips are on yours, hungrily attacking your poor mouth. He's being too harsh, you know he doesn't mean to hurt you and the way you can feel how much he wants this makes you more turned on.

He slides his hands from your waist to your hips, pulling you away from the wall so he can grab your ass. He squeezes it, groaning, it's so good to finally have you. Oh, the things he wants to do to you.

Changbin taps twice on your thighs, holding you tightly so you can wrap your legs around his hips. He carries you all the way to his room without disconnecting his mouth from yours, you're not sure how you didn't have to stop yet so you could breathe.

As soon as he gets closer to his bed, he bites your lower lip. He throws you on the bed, taking his shirt off. His body is so much better than you imagined, his chest looks like it was sculpted by an artist.

He climbs on the bed, leaning over you and brushing his nose on yours, softly caressing your cheek, taking your hair out of your face.

"Why did you take so long to let me have you, hm?" He leans more, kissing your collarbone and biting your shoulder, making you flinch.

"I was scared", you whisper, closing your eyes to the sensation of his lips on your skin.

"Did you think I would hurt you?" He asks, worriedly, hands coming instantly to cup your face.

"No, I know you wouldn't", you sigh, "I just had some really bad experiences with other people and was scared”

He's relieved he was not the one you were afraid of, but at the same time he's angry, he wants to know who's the asshole who made you feel bad about yourself.

"I won't do anything you don't want to, bunny", he gives a peck on your lips, "let's go slowly, hm? I'll do a bit of everything and you can tell me if I should go further or slow down, alright?"

You nod, feeling one of his hands sliding slowly from your face to your scalp, grabbing a handful of your hair and pulling it slightly.

"Should I keep going?" He asks in a whisper, already knowing your answer by the way your lips parted and your cheeks reddened.

"Yes, please", you plead, looking him in the eyes and seeing a smirk grow on his lips.

“Tell me, bunny, do you want me to be rough? Or do you want me to be soft?”

You stare at him for a bit, he's looking at you so intently, waiting for your answer. You never thought someone would ask you this question, ask how they could make you feel good.

“Rough”, you blush, avoiding his gaze. He grabs your face, squeezing your cheeks harshly.

"That's good”, he gives a peck on your pouting lips, “because you deserve a punishment for all the times I had to jerk off by myself thinking of you", he points out, pulling your hair harder and making you moan, leaving your neck exposed. He takes the opportunity, leaning closer and licking the bare skin, sucking and biting it hard. After making sure he marked you, Changbin sits.

"Undress", he tells you while he watches you, sitting comfortably on the bed. When you don't move, he scoffs. "Or should I rip your clothes apart? I don't mind", he smirks and you look down to your expensive new dress, you actually would like him to rip your clothes, but not this one.

So you shake your head, taking off your dress. You try covering yourself a bit, feeling too exposed. You're wearing only your panties since you didn't need a bra for that dress.

"You look so beautiful bare and ready for me", he says, grabbing your hand and pulling you closer to the edge of the bed.

"Sit here, bunny", he says, tapping the place by his side. "Tell me, how do you think I should punish you?"

"I- I don't know"

He frowns, smiling slightly.

"Are you sure?"

"Whatever you want", you say, feeling the warmth grow in your cheeks. "You can do anything you want."

Changbin sucks in the air between his teeth, a big smile on his face.

"I like the sound of that", he chuckles, lifting his hand to your face and squeezing it, "now before we can finally start, tell me if there's anything you don't want tonight"

You take a deep breath, looking deep into his eyes.

"There's nothing, I'll tell you if I feel uncomfortable", you say confidently.

"Hm, I like it. You're so good for me, baby", he stands up, taking off his sweats and underwear, sitting back with his legs open. He's so hard and pretty, you even salivate looking at his cock.

"Get on your knees", he commands and you do just that, feeling the hardwood scratching your skin. "Come here and open your mouth for me okay? I want you to show me how sorry you are for making me wait for so long"

You nod, lifting your shaky hands to grab the base of his cock, you're not sure how much you'll be able to fit in your mouth but the simple thought of sucking him makes your excitement drip from your cunt. Changbin puts his hands on the bed, looking at you with a condescending smile, just waiting.

You lean closer, wrapping his cock with your mouth, making him groan. You lick his shaft all the way up to his leaking head, twirling with your tongue at the top.

“Fuck”, he says, bringing one of his hands to your head, grabbing a fistful of your hair and forcing you down. You feel the tears brimming in your eyes, your throat is burning with the assault. “Look at you, looking so pretty gagging on my cock”

You moan, feeling your core aching, your hand slides involuntarily to your clit trying to have some release. His cock hits the back of your throat once again, making the tears run through your cheeks, you try to catch your breath but he keeps fucking your mouth violently.

“Oh my”, he smiles, “are you touching yourself? Did I say you could do that?” He asks condescendingly, “I guess whores can't help themselves”

He releases your hair, finally letting you breathe.

“So you like the pain, right? I have so many things in store for you”, he gets closer.

You're too intoxicated, eyes glossy from the tears and lips swollen. Your mascara is smudged all over your face.

“Are you okay?” He asks, taking your face into his hands once more, making you look at him, “do you want to keep going?”

You nod, frantically. “Yes, please”

He smiles satisfied, pushing you on the bed. Changbin kisses your feet, trailing softly over your legs, all the way up to your thighs. He leans over, biting the inside of your thigh, earning a whimper from you. Leaning over your pussy, he doesn't waste time, eagerly sucking on your clit and licking long stripes between your folds. Your hands automatically go to his head, pulling him closer to your core.

He inserts a finger inside you, looking up to see your beautiful face contorted in pleasure while he works with his fingers and tongue. You had forgotten how it felt to have a good fuck, how delicious the pain is. You're clenching around his fingers, so Changbin knows you're almost cumming, that's when he stops.

“What the hell?” You whine, trying to touch your clit with your hand so you can finish it yourself but he doesn't let you, grabbing your face harshly, squeezing your cheeks.

“You should take what I give you”, he says, “Open your mouth”, he commands, spitting inside, “now, swallow”

You feel all your insides turn around, you could cum just by the hold he has on you. Your pussy is throbbing so much it hurts, but it's so good.

“Binnie, please”, you whine, ready to beg for him to fuck you.

“Hm? Tell me what you want, bunny”

“Please fuck me, please, please”, you beg.

“If you ask this nicely I can't deny”, he smirks, climbing on top of you. He's huge, strong arms on each of your sides, trying not to put too much weight over you. He pulls you by your ankles, positioning himself in the middle of your legs.

You try grabbing his cock so you can put it in already, you're too desperate but he swings a slap on your ass, making you whimper to the pain, you were not expecting that.

“I told you to take what I give you, bunny”

He slides his cock up and down on your wet folds, feeling like he could die at any moment by feeling your warmth embracing his cock.

“Put it in, Binnie”, you plead again, desperate to feel him inside you.

“Fuck, babe, you're so fucking pretty”, he tells you while teasing, “but do you deserve it? You made a fool out of me all this months”

You feel your eyes brim with tears again, feeling the little bit of stimulation he's giving you by slightly touching the head of his cock to your clit.

“I'm sorry, I'm really sorry”, you sob, “it wasn't just you. I went back home every time and fucked myself thinking about you”

“Shit”, he groans, sliding his cock inside you with no warning, you scream to the sudden intrusion in your sensitive cunt but it gets stuck in your throat while you sob. “Tell me everything you want me to do, yeah?”

He's thrusting violently into you, gripping your hips into place so he can have you exactly where he wants you to be.

“I want you to fucking break me”, you tell him, “choke me, bite me, do anything, I'm yours”

Changbin slams into you even harder listening to those words, he slides his hand up, wrapping it around your throat. He tightens the grip, cutting the air off.

“My beautiful princess wants me to fuck her senseless?” You feel your orgasm closer, the sensations you're feeling all over your body makes it feel like you're in a haze, completely lost in pleasure. The knot in your stomach grows so big, it feels like it explodes, making you shake and arch your back, feeling overwhelmed by all the pleasure.

Changbin keeps going hard, feeling you clench around him just makes him get closer to his own climax. He takes his hand out of your throat, holding your hips for support.

“Do it inside”, you whisper out of breath, feeling his cock twitching inside you. He cums a few moments later, feeling your pussy sucking all of him.

He collapses on top of you, supporting himself in his arms, not wanting to weigh on you but still wanting to stay inside of you. You help him by wrapping your arms around his waist and flipping you two, now you are the one on top of him and his cock is still buried inside you.

You lay on his chest, hearing his heartbeat, not sure what to say now. You're afraid he'll judge you, even though it looked like he enjoyed the same as you, your ex boyfriend seemed to like it too. What if this was just a one time thing for him? You're not sure if you'll be able to be with other people after this night.

As if he can hear your intrusive thoughts, Changbin wraps his arms around you, kissing the top of your head.

“Should I call you my girlfriend now or should we go on a date first?”

You snap your head over at him, wide eyes and a big smile on your lips.

“I think you'll have to do much more to be able to call me your girlfriend”, you smile playfully.

“Oh? My bunny is so greedy”, he gives a peck on your lips, “I can get used to that”

-------

A/N: If you like what I write please reblog or let me know in the comments, feedback gives me motivation to keep writing.

[lovers-rck]

heyyy I love your writing. I have a request for ellie x fem reader, but it's the readers first time with a girl.

thank you angel <3 I got too excited writing it and it ended up being a little long, but I hope you like it!

smut, +18.

☆

When the kiss gets deeper, you start to think. The thoughts in your head start to fight eachothers, they bite and punch and die and come back to life as Ellie grabs your waist. Her grip is strong, hungry, her fingertips kissing every inch of skin.

You try to follow her lead, trying to mimic some of her movements but your lack of experience gives you away. Ellie's hands are everywhere, in your waist, in your neck, in your legs, in your face.

She is hovering above you, your back buried in between the pillows, her body in between your legs. As she continues her kiss the red lights in your head begin to flicker incessantly, remembering that you are in fact a virgin, a girl who lacks experience, and that the furthest you got was when Ellie playfully bit your neck, which caused you to replay the scene in your head for the rest of the night.

You wanted this, you wanted to have experience, you wanted to have fun and enjoy sex like everyone else did, but you were also afraid. You always knew that Ellie had other girls before you, and that for obvious reasons she had more experience than you, and the thought that tortured you every day was not the fact that she had loved other girls before, but that those girls knew what to do to turn her on, to tease her, and you did not.

You were terrified that when the time came you wouldn't be good enough for her.

And to your horror (and your excitement) the time might have come now.

"Why is your body so soft?" Ellie murmurs as she kisses your neck, making a path to your clavicles "I might drown in your skin" you tried to laugh at her joke, but instead a weird sound comes out of your mouth. Ellie looks at you "You okay?" you nod frantically, strands of hair accompanying the movement.

Ellie leaves your neck and straightens up, your thighs on hers, her hands caressing your naked legs "You know we can't stop if you want, right?" her hair is messy and her lips are a bit swollen "You don't have to do this if you don't want"

You smile softly. She's a good person, you think "I know"

Lately you are consumed by a sense of not giving Ellie enough. That someday she will wake up tired of your fears and will come to your door to leave you forever.

But you know that's not true because Ellie is a good person "So what's happening?"

"What do you mean?" you replie, hands in your stomach

"You have been acting weird everytime i try something"

You want to punch yourself in the face.

"You don't not like it?" she asks.

"No!" you say, instant regret at seeing her face "I mean, yes, yes i do like it Ellie" you lick your lips, thinking "You are totally not the problem"

"Tell me what are you thinking" her voice is soft, she keeps caressing your legs, up and down.

You stare at the ceiling, and the ceiling quickly takes on such an interesting appearance that you would rather stare at it for hours than face the embarrassment that was invading you "Is stupid" you say "It's not important"

After a few seconds of silence, you look at her. She is waiting for you to speak.

"I just get nervous" you play with your fingers as you speak "I don't know what should i do, or what shouldn't. Im scared i might be bad in bed and you won't like it"

Ellie furrows her eyebrows "You don't have to worry about that, it's logical that you don't know what to do"

"Yeah but you know a lot!"

"Are you calling me a whore?"

"No!" you cover your face with your hands "I give up"

Ellie laughs and places her hands over yours, taking them off your face "I'm sorry" she brings them to her lips and plants a kiss on the back of your hand "But seriously, you don't have to worry about that"

"Nobody knows anything the first time" she continues "You just get good with practice" Ellie start to kiss your arms, her lips feeling every inch of skin as she reach your shoulders, moving her mouth to your neck, her body in between your legs once again.

She plants wet kisses in your neck, bitting softly and kissing the spot after. You felt how your fears start to fade with every kiss.

"Plus, is better if you have a good teacher" she murmurs and you laugh, the echo of your action reflecting in your chest.

"Are you supposed to be the good teacher?" she nods briefly, grabbing your legs and wrapping them around her waist.

When Ellie leaves your neck and looks you in the eye, you realize the joke is over. Her eyes pierce yours, full of lust. She kiss your lips with so much hunger that she thinks she might die just by kissing you. Her fingers sneak under your shirt and make contact with your skin, warm and soft just for Ellie's pleasure.

Your body acts alone. Your chest chases the warmth of Ellie's hand, famished by her touch, no longer afraid but excited. She caress your torso, trying to memorize every inch of it, feeling in a fever dream.

She never stops kissing you, but her mind is in the way you feel against her fingers, and she don't understand how long she had been alive without knowing that feeling.

A scene of absolute tenderness unfolds in the room. A non-verbal language that only their bodies understand, a language that has only two speakers in the world.

Words are not needed when Ellie leaves your lips to look at your shirt, you quickly take it off without a second thought. You feel her eyes scan your body like x-rays, and for a moment you think she might see your heart pounding.

"And you dared to be nervous?" she says, her eyes admiring your torso, a pastel pink bra decorating your breasts.

You chuckle with a bit of shame, wanting to cover yourself but knowing that you don't have to "Take yours off?" you asks shyly.

Ellie obeys and takes her shirt off quickly, a black sport bra greets your eyes and you love how fearless and shameless she is with you.

"Your wish is my command" she says and you laugh. You laugh and you laugh because your heart does not know how to express this feeling so sharp that dwells in your body, this love and this desire ""Can I take this off?" Ellie asks, touching the seam of your shorts. You nod.

The kisses resume quickly, only this time you feel them on your covered breasts, on your stomach, on your ribs. You feel holy, as if your skin is made of the most expensive diamond and only Ellie can have access to it.

Kisses sail among the sea that is your body, the sounds of wet mouths adorn the room. Ellie unfolds a path of kisses to your underwear, her teeth playing with the elastic of your panties "How are you feeling?" she asks, her breath hitting your pelvic bone.

You feel in cloud nine. Ellie's kisses work like the most expensive drug on the market, leaving you foolish and lustful "Good..." your murmur, too lost in the upcoming pleasure to say more than one word.

Ellie smiles in your skin "You want to keep going?" she says

You make a positive sound that Ellie takes as a yes. You grab her hair when she plant a kiss in your clothed cunt. She place your legs on her shoulders so that you are now completely open for her, exposed only to her.

For a few moments, Ellie hesitates. She feels that her mind has erased all experience ever acquired and now she lies blank, not knowing what to do. It was common knowledge about Ellie's adventures with different girls before she met you, the rumors about her development in bed were no secret, and she would never admit it but she felt some pride in those sayings.

Nights and nights Ellie had fantasized about this scenario, about having you at her mercy, about being able to enjoy your body for as many hours as she wanted. She never said it out loud because she didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable or pressured, but every time your skirt lifted a little Ellie felt like she couldn't contain herself.

So she feels totally lost when these wishes come true and she has you lying down for her, waiting for her.

She is about to surrender when with a subtle movement you guide Ellie's head towards your pussy, a vulgar movement but coming from you it transforms into something almost tender, and Ellie finds herself again.

She moves your panties to the side and kiss your skin down there, you gasp. Her finger collects all the wetness and start making little circles in your clit, aplying pressure when she feels like it.

She watch your body react to her. Your mouth open, whimpers coming out as she speeds her pace, your grip getting harder in her hair.

Ellie watch you a few seconds more, afraid that she would come just from touching you.

She places her mouth in your cunt, licking your clit and teasing your hole with her finger. You moan and quickly understand why people talk so much about sex, bragging about how good it is. Ellie controls your body in a way that makes the moans fight to get out of your mouth and your eyes close from pleasure, and you don't understand how you could go so long without knowing what Ellie's mouth feels like.

"I'm going to add a finger," she announces, and you smile at her sayings, analyzing how weird it sounds in any other situation "Tell me if it hurts"

At first, a burning sensation invades you. The feeling is weird, it burns everytime she moves but you want more. She moves her finger in and out slowly, watching your face for a signal of something "How is that?" she says

You whimper when she curls her finger, the uncomfortable sensation disappearing as the seconds pass. "Faster" you say and is all Ellie need to know.

She obeys and start fucking you faster, to mesmerized by the view of your cunt. You start to play with your breasts unconsciously, lifting up your bra and touching your nipples and when Ellie sees that she thinks she creamed her boxers.

Too selfish for her own pride, she straightens up and starts sucking on your breasts, her fingers still fucking you. You grab her neck, feeling her tongue play with your hardened nipples and her finger accelerates the onslaught. Ellie adds a second finger and you start to lose it.

Your legs are trembling and you feel your climax close "Ellie..." you murmur, lost in pleasure

"Tell me what you need"

You moan loudly when she curls her finger "Please" you continue "Harder"

She obey and start to finger fuck you harder, her thrust making your tits bounce to the pleasure of her eyes. She sits and watch the naughtiness of your acts, how you lick your dry lips and how your pussy swallows her fingers, how is cum leaking out of your hole, translucent white liquid adorning her fingers. Ellie hears the wet sound of her fingers against your cunt and whimper herself.

Ellie feels like she could faint from such a view.

Your orgasm hit you without warning, your body trembling in pleasure, feeling how your pussy leaks.

Ellie looks at her fingers covered in you and put them in her mouth, looking at you. Her tongue clean the cream and taste your sweet flavor.

You almost cum again seeing that scene.

After a few seconds, she goes and grabs a wet towel, moving your weak legs to clean your mess and put your panties in place. You feel light-headed, still recovering from your recent orgasm when Ellie comes back and lay down by your side, caressing your hair "Did you had a good time?" she asks, knowing the answer

You nudge her playfully, giggling at her question "You are such a narcissistic Ellie Williams" you murmur settling into her chest, your head on her heart, hugging her torso. You feel Ellie's chest heave as she replies "You didn't answer my question" her hand gently strokes your hair.

"I had an horrible time" you joke and she laughs

"Good" she says, her fingers tucking a strand of hair behind your ear "I'm glad"

[peachhcs]

the perfect moment

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

someone requested will and samy's first time, so after trying to write it for nearly a month, it's finished! again, please read at your own risk, this is very explicit!!

3.6k words

warnings: 18+, smut with a tiny bit of plot, but like all of this is smut again. p in v (protected!), slight handjob, hair pulling, sucking on boobs, a bit of praising, very consensual, making out, hickeys, grinding, i think that's it??

this is how i pictured samy and will's first time going! because will's whole life was hockey, he never really had time for a lot of experimenting. there's small talk of religion in this (idk if will was/is actually catholic but somewhere i thought he was. take it all with a grain of salt, this is just how i thought it would go/how will and samy would be :))

au masterlist

one of the last days before summer ended and will couldn't stop thinking about one thing.

will's eyes glued themselves to samy's lips and the way she applied chapstick making her pink lips even more pink and glossier. he couldn't look away even if he wanted to because all he could think about was kissing that chapstick right off and the feeling of her plump lips against his own.

something had the blonde's brain wired up the past couple of days.

he couldn't stop staring. everything samy did, will's eyes were on her. drinking water? staring. playing volleyball? staring. jumping into the lake? oh, will was definitely staring.

he just couldn't tear his eyes away no matter how hard he tried. something was making the blonde's brain go haywire. he'd get worked up over the littlest thing like seeing the brunette in one of his boston college t-shirts and just her swimsuit. one second he'd look and the next he'd be painfully hard.

will felt like a fucking fifteen-year-old again going through the stages of puberty and getting hard at almost everything. he felt pathetic, really—stepping away to relieve the ache in his cock because him and samy have only been dating for two and a half months and the farthest they've gone was making out with shirts off.

he didn't know what too soon was and he did not want to make her uncomfortable with his weird boyish desires that had been creeping up a lot more lately.

so will suffered in silence and it was fine for a few days until him and samy caught themselves in a heated make out session while everyone was outside.

the boy nipped harshly at her lips, tugging her hips impossibly closer against his own. samy giggled—music to will's ears. her own fingers danced around in his hair, twisting it and tugging at the roots leaving the hockey player to see stars.

she shifted against him and will's boner pressed against her thigh. whether she noticed it or not, she didn't say anything. usually, neither of them would mention it when they started making out and they'd ignore it, but this time was different.

"are you always this hard?" samy breathed against will's mouth, pulling apart slightly.

"w-what?" the boy stuttered out earning a smile from the brunette.

"you're really hard," the girl commented making will blush embarrassingly hard—like whole face a tomato in seconds. he immediately shifted away from her, feeling embarrassed about how turned on he was from just kissing for five minutes.

"s-sorry?" he didn't really know what to say, but samy raised her eyebrow.

her boyfriend—a 6'0, forward, hockey player—was sorry that he was hard? she's known will her entire life for having such a hard outer shell—seeing him stand before her bright red and nervous seemed like such a different person than she's known, but samy didn't think it was a bad thing.

"why are you apologizing?" the girl laughed, pressing her hands against his torso.

"i-i don't know. i-i don't wanna make you uncomfortable?" will struggled finding the right words. he had a hard time reading samy's face which was rare considering how close they were.

"do you think i'm uncomfortable?" the girl wondered. will stared at her for a moment before slowly shaking his head.

"no.."

"you're right, i'm not. i think it's hot that you're hard. i mean, i'd be worried if you weren't," she laughed, easing some of the tension in the boy's shoulders.

the girl placed a finger on his chest, slowly dragging it down. she wanted to try something, watching the way a shaky breath escaped will's lips as he struggled to keep his eyes open under her touch.

the once stable boy seemed to crumble in her hands and boy, did that do something to samy's head and ego.

she carefully pushed the blonde back onto her bed where he stared up at her with a look in his eyes that was a mix of confusion and intrigue. a gentle smile spread across samy's lips knowing she wanted will to feel as comfortable as possible because at the end of the day, he was her best friend and the two have known each other since they were babies. this side of their relationship was still so fresh and new.

will's hands found their place on her hips as samy straddled his lap. this wasn't anything new. she was usually on his lap when their kiss became more heated, but right now, the feeling of her thighs pressed against both sides of will's legs did something to him. his hands shook while his heartbeat grew more rapid with each kiss they shared.

"you okay?" samy wondered between kisses. she could feel his rapid heartbeat from where her hands held their place at his neck.

"mhm, yeah," will managed between heavy breaths.

with that, samy continued kissing her boyfriend's lips while her fingers felt his silver chain beneath his shirt. she curled the metal around her one finger, slowly edging it out from under the shirt. the blonde was very aware of her hands on him, her touch like fire on his skin. the metal now dangled above his clothes along with the small cross pendent hanging off the end.

samy's hands dipped further down, attaching to will's neck and dragging back down his torso. a noise sounded from the back of will's throat that was a mix between a moan and whimper as samy's hand got dangerously close to where the boy wanted her touch the most. he's actually thought about this moment for weeks, always imaging it and hoping it'd become a reality.

finally, her hand palmed his bulge through his shorts. will's brain short-circuited, a loud "fuck" escaping his lips and then a "wait. wait."

samy immediately pulled her hand away, eyes jumping back up to her boyfriend's, "what?"

will's mouth worked faster than his brain, cursing to himself for making her stop before he could even think about it. his face flushed while samy searched his gaze worried she did something wrong or moved too fast. what she didn't know was that will wanted her to keep going. he just...how did he tell her this without her most definitely laughing at him?

"i-i've never..i've never done this..before.." the hockey player managed to get out.

a silence fell betweem them as samy took in his words and will quickly started internally panicking.

"oh."

that definitely wasn't the response will expected nor the statement samy expected from her boyfriend.

"oh? good oh? bad oh?" the boy searched her eyes, growing conscious of his revelation. maybe he shouldn't have told her.

"no, no, no. not a bad oh. just..surprising?" samy gently laughed, pulling her fingers through will's hair again. his eyes softened out, turning into puppy-dog eyes.

she did not think will was a virgin. the youngest hughes for sure thought will messed around in his dev years considering all of the girls that were always at the games and the ones his friends constantly talked about. he was a catch, so this news was very surprising to samy.

"oh," will muttered, unsure of how to feel, maybe embarrassed? ashamed?

hockey had always been will's number one. since he could walk, the only thing taking up space in his brain was hockey. hockey, hockey, hockey. girls was never something on the blonde's mind. not nearly as much as the sport he loved. wanting to be the best and prove how good he could be, will devoted all of his time to the ice which meant limiting his social interactions. it had always been that way and for awhile, will didn't mind. he went to an all boys school before moving to michigan, so it wasn't even a problem.

the status of his virginity or experience never mattered with who he was with because the guys were as locked in as he was—maybe not ryan when he started dating julianne, but their minds never wandered off too far. all of that changed when things in will's mind started shifting some years ago, when samy started taking up the spot hockey once did. soon, all his mind could think about was the girl he always saw as an annoying sister.

"hey, hey, don't feel embarrassed. it's normal," samy read the look on her boyfriend's face, quickly making him look at her. will just flushed even more under her stare.

virginity was a concept will heard a lot about growing up catholic. going to a catholic high school taught him a lot about "waiting until marriage" which wasn't something the boy entirely agreed with. his views definitely changed as he got older and thought less and less about his religion. obviously, not completely, though. the silver pendent dangling off his neck was a small reminder keeping him tied in, but that didn't mean he wanted him and samy to stop doing whatever they were about to do.

"h-have you..done this before?" will didn't even know if he wanted to know the answer. a pang of jealousy bubbled in his stomach at the idea of some other guy doing this with samy before he could.

"uh..yeah, but not a lot. like twice or something," samy quickly mumbled.

"oh."

"it was with that guy i dated briefly junior year. it wasn't anything crazy," the girl filled in making sure will knew she was no where near super experienced, but she knew a thing or two.

'"right," the blonde nodded. he remembered that guy a little too well, never really fond of him whenever he was around.

"we don't have to do this if you don't want to," samy said softly, caressing her boyfriend's cheek. he leaned into her touch.

"i want to..i just..i don't really know what to do past making out," will mumbled shyly, avoiding her gaze.

"that's okay. i can help," the girl encouraged with a smile. the hockey player met her eyes seeing how reassuring they looked.

"okay," he mumbled, smiling.

with that, samy attached her lips back to will's lips. the two shared another passionate kiss, the blonde's confidence slowly returning as he worked his tongue into the girl's mouth. she hummed, slowly dragging her hands through his curls before shifting lower again.

will felt drunk on her kisses. he never wanted the feeling of her lips against his to stop. his breath caught in his throat when samy's hand returned to the bulge in his pants.

"do you trust me?" the girl wondered. will nodded.

"gotta say it, will," she urged, needing a vocal confirmation.

"yes, i trust you," he managed through breathy pants.

will felt her grin against his lips as she slowly slipped her hand into his shorts. the boy jumped at the feeling of her warm hand against his clothed cock. "fuck," he let out.

"okay?" samy wondered.

"mhm, okay," the boy said, quickly nodding his head as samy stroked him through his shorts.

will's hips stuttered uncontrollably. his mind was racing along with the dreams he's had of him and samy doing this. her hand fit so perfectly around his length and god, it was so much better than his own hand.

"ugh, f-feels good," the blonde muttered, somewhat nervous still.

"yeah? feels good?" samy smiled, satisfied with the sounds she was pulling from will. he nodded with his head tipping back a little, struggling to keep his eyes open because he wanted to ingrain this moment into his brain forever.

his open neck was the perfect opportunity for the girl to pounce. she hooked her lips onto his throat, quickly sucking which pulled a guttural moan from within the boy. he bit hard on his lip in fear that someone would hear them while samy continued her stroking and nipping his skin. 

from knowing a small thing or two, will decided to try something. he slipped his hand up her shirt until it stopped on her boobs. a small gasp left his lips when he realized samy wasn't wearing a bra under her shirt. 

"okay?" the girl asked sensing his hesitation. 

"y-yes. yeah. you're not wearing a bra," he said a bit bluntly. a tiny chuckle left her lips. 

"is that okay?" 

"more than okay," will breathed. he cupped one breast with his hand, feeling samy's nipple harden under his touch. 

he stated rubbing it in tiny circles—something one of his teammates said girls like and boy, was he right. a soft moan escaped samy's lips which filled the blonde's chest with pride that he did that. 

he decided to keep going by adding a few squeezes on the covered bud. samy squirmed atop his lap which was definitely not helping the arousal in his pants, but will tried ignoring his own needs, wanting to focus all on samy. 

he continued that for another few moments before samy decided they needed their shirts off. she tugged at the bottom of will's and he quickly took the hint as he pulled it over his head. it flew somewhere in her room and his mouth watered a bit in anticipation for samy to lose her shirt. he'd never seen her completely naked on top, only with a bra still on. 

as soon as will saw her bare nipples, he thought he'd cum on the spot. they were so beautiful in a bra, the blonde had no idea they could get even better without a bra. 

"you can touch," samy nodded encouragingly. 

will slowly cupped both hands on her breasts. he squeezed before rubbing both of his thumbs over the buds. another moan left the brunette's lips, her head tipping back. the boy didn't waste a second attaching his lips to her skin like she did minutes ago. 

this wasn't new to will. he was practically a pro at giving hickeys in the most hottest, yet hidden places. samy's arms wrapped around his neck like she wanted him closer so his face was practically in her chest. 

he sucked everywhere across her top half—neck, collarbone, the soft flesh of the tops of her breasts. before will even knew it, her entire nipple slipped into his mouth and made contact with his tongue. 

a louder moan left the girl's lips and will knew he wanted to pull more of those sounds from her. 

"fuck, just like that will," samy moaned out, tugging harshly at the root of his curls. the boy hummed, trying to focus everything on samy and not his desperate need for a release. 

the girl let him go back and forth on each for a few more minutes before pulling him up and reconnecting their lips. will's swollen lips were slick with his saliva all while he tasted samy's signature gloss: strawberry. it made him dizzy in a good way because all he wanted was to kiss all of it off. 

"think you're ready?" samy wondered, not wanting to move too fast. the hockey player quickly nodded feeling the strain in his shorts and the way his hips were just involuntarily grinding against samy's core. 

"so ready." 

with that, she climbed off his lap, instructing him to pull his shorts and underwear down. samy dug through her drawer for a condom, flashing the imfaous rapper before pulling her own shorts down as well. will's entire mouth watered seeing her almost completely naked besides her underwear. 

"you're so gorgeous," the blonde muttered, not even able to tear his eyes away. 

will sat with his cock out where it occasionally twitched against his stomach. the tip was red and definitely ready, although he grew a bit conscious under samy's longing stare. 

did she not like it? was he not big enough? was he too big? 

the worries clouded will's brain until samy climbed back onto her bed, stroking her boyfriend's cheek to bring him back to reality, "remember, you can say no or stop at anytime, okay?" 

"i know," the blonde nodded. 

he watched his girlfriend rip open the rapper with her teeth which was quite literally the hottest thing he's ever seen. she found his gaze, silently asking permission to touch him. 

when he nodded samy's hand slowly wrapped arpund his length. her hand was enough to make him jump, "fuck." 

the precum oozing from the pretty tip was helpful as lube. as samy's thumb rubbed along the slit, will's head tipped back, eyes squeezing shut this time and his hands gripping the bedsheets. 

"so, so pretty, will," the brunette praised earning a large blush on his cheeks. 

"you think so?" he managed to get out through breathy pants. 

"mhmm. you're so big," when he found her gaze again the boy nearly lost it. she looked at him through hooded eyses, a mix of love and lust in her features. 

once will had enough, samy slowly slid the condom down. the plastic material caused a stutter in his hips and a small curse leaving his lips at his girlfriend's gentle touch. she fell back onto the bed, ushering the boy to follow her lead. 

he hovered over her, their breaths mixing together in slightly nervous pants. will's cock throbbed at the feeling of samy's entrance so close, yet he never broke eye contact. "just go slow and not rough," the girl explained. 

"right, of course," will nodded. 

he took ahold of his length, carefully directing it to samy's hole. the boy bit his lip, the anxiety bubbling in his stomach that he wouldn't do it right. the further he pushed his hips forward, the more his tip slid into samy. 

they let out loud moans at the first contact. "oh fuck," the boy moaned out. 

"like that, will. feels good," samy encouraged, gripping onto his biceps. 

he pushed himself further in, resisting every urge to thrust in, but his self-control was slipping fast. finally, he bottomed out. a mix between a sigh and groan escaped both of their lips. samy wrapped her legs around will's while they took a second to adjust. 

god, he felt even better inside of her. will thought the same as samy's walls squeezed every inch of his length along with his need to cum already. 

"whenever your ready," samy rubbed his back in soothing circles. 

"yeah, in a second. fuck, you feel so good," the boy muttered out. a thin line of sweat glistened across his forehead and at every inch where they were connected and touching. 

everything was so overwhelming for the hockey player. samy's boobs pressed against his chest, her legs wrapped around his, her squeezing him like her life depended on it. 

finally, will found it in himself to slowly start moving. he carefully raised his hips until just the tip was inside before pushing back in. 

"yeah, shit. so good," samy's praises fueled will's confidence as he picked up his pace little by little. 

"mm, fuck. you feel incredible. you're so beautiful," will rambled through his immense pleasure. 

he found a good speed while samy tried meeting his thrusts as well. the room filled with sounds of their sex and fuck, did they really hope no one walked by her room. 

will definitely wasn't going to last long. samy knew that based on how sensitive he was and the way his cock throbbed inside of her every time she squeezed a bit harder. the boy hid his face in the crook of her neck as his panting increased and incoherent thoughts tumbled from his lips. 

"oh fuck. fuck. yeah, mm—not gonna last," he managed through broken pants. 

"it's okay, you can cum," samy squeezed his shoulders. 

"want you to cum too," will had enough mind and knowledge to know that samy needed pleasure and a release too. 

he stuck his one hand between them, remembering from another teammate where the clit was. his fingers quickly rubbed it in fast circles wanting samy to release before he did despite his stittering hips and need to cum so close. 

samy's own hips stuttered at will's touch. she bit hard on his shoulder, trying to keep quiet as her climax approached. the pleasure overtook the pain, so will hardly felt a thing. 

"yeah, fuck. right there. keep going. don't stop." 

"god, i'm so fucking close. gonna make me cum. please tell me you're close," will urged, not sure how much longer he could hold back his load. 

"so close, will. keep going, please," the brunette nodded, voice high-pitched and squeaky. 

the dam broke. samy's climax hit her hard, her back arching off the bed further into will's chest. he wasn't far behind, spilling into the condom with the uncontrollale thrust of his hips and the string of curse words leaving his lips. 

"oh god, fuck. oh fuck," will collapsed, sweaty and spent. 

his hips continued in little stutters with a bit of aftershock. samy wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders as his face hid in her neck trying to regain his lost breath. 

"did so, so good will. so good," the girl praised, kissing the side of his head. 

"best first time ever," the blonde sighed. 

he finally lifted his head to meet her gaze. his curls stuck to his sweaty forehead, but the smile never left his lips. samy just giggled, "glad you think so." 

will slowly pulled out, groaning at the feeling of his cock slipping out. he pulled the condom off, placing it in the trash before laying back down and scooping samy into his arms. 

"not so bad, right?" the brunette raised her eyebrow. 

"with you, it was perfect," his words made her flush. gentle kisses were placed against her skin trying to savor everything from the best moment ever. 

[diyahatnight]

Warnings : NSFW Oneshot of a head cannon I made. Smut with a dialogue.

Minor dni

Giyuu Tomioka x Hashira f!reader

Summary : The topic surfs up about your boyfriend Giyu being a virgin, even though the other hashira’s didn’t know his past. You began to have flashbacks about what it’s like to be in bed with him.

Notes : This was requested by someone but it won’t let me tag them. Sorry it took so long to write this, i was being lazy. I’m also really bad a writing smut so let me know if there are any problems. There was another person who also requested: @lakainamelolita

I don’t proofread fyi

You and Giyuu had a private relationship, it wasn’t because the both of you were scared of people finding out, but because it was better and easier that way.

The other hashira’s knew you two were close friends, but it never crossed their minds that you two were together romantically. Even though it was quite obvious the only person who thought you two were in a relationship was Sanemi. He shot his own thought down when he looked at Giyuu and then at you and said to himself “nah she’s not that stupid to date an idiot like that guy.”

How you guys started the relationship was weird, you two were strictly just friends with obvious feelings for eachother. Until one night out together you guys returned to your mansion drunk, and one thing lead to another and y’all had sex in one of the many rooms.

Both of you remember that night exactly from how it started to how it ended, that being your first time it was the best sex you’ve ever had. He was so gentle with you but yet still had you crying.

You assumed because you were close friends, it would be awkward so you started avoiding him. While you were working out one day he came to ask you why you were avoiding him and you being confused asked if he didn’t think it was awkward and he said no. So then boom friends again, then about 2 weeks after bloomed a relationship.

There was the annual Hashira gathering, this wasn’t a fancy event or anything it was just a usual thing you guys do just to keep up with eachother. You guys were just a big ol family that just stayed in eachothers lives.

While chatting, Tengen got the question about how sex works with his 3 wives. Does each girl get their own moment or is it just a foursome?

That question brought up a sex topic amongst the hashira’s just telling out their business because there isn’t a personal bubble around them. ( discluding Muichiro for obvious reasons.)

When Shinobu started talking she called out the fact that Giyuu has been quiet the entire time, then started saying “Are you quiet because you’re a virgin?” thus bringing about her calling him “Giyuu the virgin.”

Giyuu didn’t say anything, he just shook his head. As they were laughing about Giyuu being the only Virgin amongst them you started getting flashbacks.

When you and Giyuu were just friends, he told you about his back story. He was a quiet guy, but getting girls in bed was like a second nature to him. He told you about all his sexual experiences, the good ones and the bad ones. You were flabbergasted to find out this side to him. That proving the point “it’s always the quiet guys.”

He was such a slut and it wasn’t obvious until you were one of the girls to be in bed with him.

The day that you two made it official he swore on his life that no one will get in the middle of this relationship. You were the only girl he’s been interested in ever since he first met you. You were his dream girl and so very perfect for him. He even slit his wrist as his own way as a pinky promise. He didn’t know why he did it he just did for some reason.

That same night he wanted to prove to you that you had all of him. And he knew the best way to prove that. He initiated the first move, you knew what he wanted when he was kissing you and he started pushing you more into the bed than you already were.

Next thing you new he was taking off yours and his kimono. The first round he was simply making love to you, he was being gentle and he finger prepped to make sure you had no pain on your end. He slowly pushed himself in to make sure that you had time to adjust to his length and thickness.

His pace was slow but harsh, each thrust were hitting all the right spots so perfectly. The first round he was fucking you so lovingly. He had your fingers intertwined with his as he had your hands above your head. When you reached your orgasm he made sure to give you some time before he reached his own orgasm. Pulling out then cuming on your belly.

He caught you off guard when he used his fingers to scoop up his cum off your belly, then sticking it in your mouth. What caught you even more off guard is when he started pushing both of your legs to your chest hinting that there was going to be another round.

This time without warning he just penetrated you and you let out a little squeal at the sudden sensation. This time his thrusts weren’t slow, they were fast and rough. But because of the position you were in you couldn’t hear the sound of skin slapping, but there was definitely a sound.

His new pace had your head thrown all the way back and you gripping into the sheets. Your orgasm came faster than it did before, your eyes tearing up and sending you into a haze because you were already sensitive from your first orgasm.

when his came he once again came on your belly then scooped it up and stuck it in your mouth.

He randomly flipped you over on your hands and knees, arching your back and forcing your face into the pillow. He forcefully pushed himself into your hole this time and that got a loud moan from you. His pace was somehow faster than his pace from the second round.

This time you can hear the sound of skin slapping, he was so focused on making you feel good he didn’t even realize how much he was digging into the skin of your ass. Letting out small grunts as he watched you tear apart before him. It turned him on so much he started to pick up the pace.

You were like jelly in the palm of his hands, you were trying to tell him to slow down but you couldn’t make out full sentences. You started to cry at all the pleasure and then the pain when your orgasm started to arise. This was the third orgasm i’m the row and it was starting to hurt because you were so sensitive.

The sex was so good but it was the orgasm that had you crying beneath him. When you came you had blacked out for a second and then came back to reality when he asked for permission to cum inside of you.

This time you told him yes, and that he did. After both of you collapsed and you snuggled up next to him as he apologized and started kissing your forehead.

You said that the both of you should go and shower together and he agreed. The beginning of the shower was just a normal couples shower, until one thing happened and then another then a 4th round became in that shower.

You snapped out of your thoughts, clearing the flash back you just had when Giyuu touched your thigh. “You okay?” he was a tiny bit concerned on why you all of a sudden got so quiet.

You shook your head yes, but you had the reason for the quietness written all over your face. He couldn’t help but give you a small smirk.

He was happy to know that you knew who he really was and you being the only person in the room who’s got to experience it.

Now i have to write the next fanfic for the next person (i’m just doing fan service)

[pinguwrites]

Our True Nature | Tom Buckley

Pairing -> dom!tom buckley x student!psychic!reader

Summary -> You're different, you always have been; you've know that ever since you were a little kid who made your toys float in the air. Despite your great abilities you've pursued a rather humble life, looking for others like you. Your search comes to an end when you realize that your professor's assistant, Tom Buckley — the one you've been harboring a secret crush on — is a psychic, just like you.

Word count: 4.4k

Warnings: smut (minors dni), dom!Tom and sub!reader, age-gap (not specified, but reader is college-aged), praise kink, slight degradation, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, um superpower play??? telekinesis play??? I don't know what that shit's called, overstimulation, mild breeding kink, tom is wild and says dirty stuff, weird magic lore I made up (you can trust me, I used to write fantasy), mild hamilton reference ig, rough sex but not much emphasis on it

Disclaimer: Red Lights characters, plots, quotes, etc. do not belong to me and belong to the rightful owner(s). This is only fanfiction and this is just for fun.

When you first saw him it was like the world around you stopped. The rain that had been pouring down like a storm the entire day ceased its brutal assault, and in that week of dull weather and gray skies, the sun finally peeked out from behind the clouds and cast a heavenly glow around his body.

He looked like an angel. Dark hair caressed by sunlight, eyes as pale blue as a glacier, and the most handsome face you’d ever seen. It was all right there, across the parking lot of the university, just waiting to be seen. A god amongst humans, a flower in a field of grass.

But then the moment passed. He walked away, without any word or acknowledgment, like he never even saw you at all. It wasn’t until later on did you realize who this man was — Tom Buckley, your new professor’s assistant.

You supposed that was when the attraction started. You tried to kid yourself and say that it was actually halfway through the year when he started offering private study sessions, or when he made it a point to greet you good morning every day, or even when he insisted you call him Tom, but you knew the truth. You had fallen for him the second you saw him but were only too ashamed to admit it.

A god amongst humans.

It was a silly phrase you used to describe him. He wasn’t a god. Not even close to one. He was nothing like you. He couldn’t see visions of the future, or make a door open and close at his whim. He was just a person, a person you had a silly, undeniable crush on. A person you could not stop staring at.

He was currently leading the lesson today, showcasing a video on how a fake psychic used tricks behind the scenes to fool her audience, but you weren’t paying attention at all. Your chin was resting in your hand, and your gaze was upon Tom like he was the only thing that mattered.

You could barely see him in the poor lighting. The best you got was a figure and a shadow on the projection, but that didn’t deter you at all. All you wanted was to observe him, the way he moved, the way he talked, the way his hands would gesture as he explained the concepts students didn’t understand.

He seemed to notice your blatant staring, because after the video ended and he turned the lights back on, his eyes locked with yours, and he did what he always did: made you stay behind after class.

“Is something wrong?” you asked. It was a routine question. When the students got up to leave you would approach his desk, feigning confusion, waiting for him to say, ‘No, nothing, I just wanted to look over the assignment with you.’

You were sure your friends thought you were dumb. Why else would you need extra help all the time? but that was a much better assumption than the idea that you were fucking Mr. Buckley, so you never bothered correcting them.

“No, nothing, I just . . . ” Tom started but then trailed off. From this distance, you could properly admire the light freckles scattered across his pale face and took a moment to save the image in your head. When he continued, your attention snapped back. “I have a couple of questions.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Yeah. Let’s go to my office.” He looked a little nervous for some reason. The walk to his office was spent trying to deduce why. Maybe something was wrong this time.

You sat down on one of the chairs by his desk. His room was filled with all sorts of odd things, namely technology used to disprove — or prove — paranormal activity. Occasionally, this material would be showcased in class, and he and Matheson would do replicas of former encounters to demonstrate how they worked.

You always paid very close attention to those days, in case you ever need the information in the future. How to Evade Ghost Hunters 101!

“What is it? Have I really done something wrong this time?” you joked, in an attempt to lighten the mood.

He laughed. A beautiful smile.

“Of course not, you’re my star student.” Your heart warmed at that. “I just wanted to test some things out with you. For the curriculum, Dr. Matheson and I were considering adding it to the course, and we want your opinion.”

You nodded. “That’s fine with me.”

“Good.”

He opened a drawer and pulled out a tarot card pack.

“We want to do a lesson on how pictures and symbolism can be manipulated to fit the victim’s life,” he said, shuffling the deck. “Tarot cards are so vague and general — The Fool, for example, represents new beginnings and adventure. Is that not the foundation of everyone’s life? To explore, to be inexperienced?”

You agreed. “And how are you planning on presenting this to the class? Give out a tarot reading to everyone?”

Tom chuckled. “I just want to try it out with you, to prove it.”

He held out the cards for you to pick, but you stopped him. “Aren’t I supposed to tell you what I want to know?”

There was a brief silence, and if you looked carefully, you could see a light pink tinge glaze over his cheeks, and his breathing hitch ever so slightly, his Adam’s apple bobbing. 

“Don’t worry. Whatever you want to know about me,” you offered, amused at his reaction. “Tell me, what are you looking for?”

“I want to know your secrets,” he admitted. “I want to know what you’re hiding.”

“You’ll be disappointed. There’s nothing interesting about me.”

“We’ll see.”

You picked three cards and placed them down on the table. Each representative of either the past, present, or future, or at least, that’s how you were assuming he was doing the reading.

He turned the first card. It was The Star, reversed. 

“Something in the past was bothering you,” he said. “You felt hopeless, like you had no more motivation . . . Am I right in guessing it was the result of something specific?”

“Yes,” you said. Obviously, his reading wasn’t true, how could it be? he wasn’t like you, but he was definitely right about the way people manipulated the symbolism. You doubted he knew the real reason why you had been so depressed.

He flipped over the next card. The Lovers. 

He grinned. “I’m sure you can guess what this means. Are you in a relationship?”

You shook your head.

“Then it’s about a potential someone. You’ll find your complimentary, someone you can balance with — it could be platonic, or romantic, but no matter the type of relationship, they’ll be loving, and supportive.”

You looked into his eyes before returning your attention back down to the cards. Oh, how you wished it was him. 

He turned the last card.

“The Ten of Cups. Your desires will be fulfilled. You’ll be happy, whatever problems you had in the past will be resolved.”

It was silent for a moment. You expected him to ask you questions of how accurate it was, and how quickly you connected his predictions to events in your life, but he didn’t.

“Do you believe in magic?” he asked bluntly. “The supernatural? You either do or you don’t, I can’t imagine you’d be wasting your time in this class if your opinion was neutral.”

You felt like you’d been put right on the spot. You thought about the right way to answer. “I believe in it, in the sense that I’m open about what we don’t know, and am optimistic about all the possibilities.”

He all but rolled his eyes. “C’mon. That was so wordy. I want to hear the truth.”

He leaned in closer. Your faces were inches apart, and you could feel his minty breath on your face. 

“Yes,” you breathed out. “I believe in magic.”

He pulled away, satisfied. “I believe in magic, too.”

You quirked an eyebrow, amused. “Oh? Have you ever seen it in action?”

“Maybe,” he answered vaguely, a grin on his face. “Let me see your palm.”

You wanted to laugh, but you yourself was very eager to comply with his demands, not because you thought the experiments were interesting, but rather you enjoyed spending time with him, and the prospect of him touching you—even though it was only your hand—was thrilling.

Tom caressed the lines on your palms. He was distracted by it.

You weren’t sure what it was about him that made you so drawn. You didn’t believe in love at first sight, it was only something based on lust and looks, but this was more. You didn’t just like him, you found him utterly attractive, in a way that surpassed physicality.

It certainly wasn’t his personality. You thought you two were compatible in mentality, and you got along well, but he was rather boring. He wasn’t fiery nor exciting, nothing that could take you off guard or pique your curiosity. 

He was intelligent. He told you he used to study physics, something you just had to respect him for, but you didn’t know that until just recently, and it’s not like his day-to-day actions showcased his genius. 

You really didn’t know what it was, and a part of not knowing made it all the more mysterious. But it also made you feel vulnerable. In less than a year, you had become so hopelessly, irrevocably, in love with someone. He could do anything and you wouldn’t blink an eye. He had so much power over you, and he didn’t even know it.

“Can you feel it?” he asked softly, looking up at you.

You pulled your hand away, too flustered. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He took your hand again, unrelenting. He gripped it tighter, encasing it in his warmth. It felt so nice.

“Between us,” he clarified, his voice low. He was gazing at you intently.

“What do you mean?”

“Are you like me?” he asked, his tone almost desperate. “I see you do things, impossible things. When you drop a pencil in class it floats back up to your hand, when your coffee gets too cold I see you wrap your hand around the cup and make it bubble. No one else notices, but I do. I see it.”

You froze, or rather, your mind was instantly filled with so many thoughts you couldn’t comprehend them all at once. 

You thought you were careful with your abilities because up until now, no one had caught you. Not since you were a teenager who copied off others during a test, not since you got your first car and put it on autopilot so you could sleep during a drive, not even since you were a little girl who was too lazy to tie her own braid at school. 

“T-Tom,” you stuttered. “I don’t . . .”

And what was that he said about being like him? Was he implying that he could do these things too? That after all these years of searching, you’d finally found another psychic?

Tom’s face fell. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have.” He chuckled nervously. “I don’t know what I was saying. Just forget it.”

He cleared his throat. You still didn’t say anything. It was like someone had pressed a mute button and you couldn’t speak, no matter how badly you wanted to say something.

“You should go,” he suggested. “Thank you, for all the help.”

He stood up, and you did too, mirroring his actions. He lead you over to the exit. “Have a nice day, I look forward to seeing you in class next week.”

You turned around, not wanting to leave yet. “Tom . . .”

He was about to close the door when you stopped it with your foot, budged it open, and leapt into his arms, placing a passionate kiss on his lips.

You didn’t know what you were doing. You didn’t know what you were thinking. All that you knew was that you wanted him. Badly. As you pushed your way back inside the room, you feared for a moment that he was going to shove you off, tell you he didn’t mean it like that, but he didn’t. He pulled you inside and lifted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist, and sat you on top of his desk, returning the kiss with even more intensity.

“Tom,” you all but moaned. You felt confused and dazed, but with the way Tom was nibbling at your neck, sucking and licking, you could tell he wasn’t in the same boat as you. You relaxed, letting everything go. You could let him take care of this—whatever this was. Let him take care of you.

“Can I take it off?” he asked in between kisses. He tugged at your shirt, fingers hovering above the buttons.

“Mhm,” you nodded. “Please, please, please—”

The buttons unbuttoned themselves. You gasped a little in surprise as your shirt was tossed to the side. That was all the confirmation you needed—Tom Buckley was just like you. 

The realization that you had finally found another was lost when he started kneading your breasts through your bra. “Such a needy girl,” he cooed. “Didn’t know she could get like that. Doesn’t want to answer my questions but needs me to please her.”

“Fuck,” you let out, surprised at the dirty talk, but pleased nonetheless. “I just want you.”

“I know you do. Staring at me like a piece of meat in class. That’s all I am to you, hmm? Just a hot teacher to fuck. You tell your little friends about me?”

“No!” You whined when his hands went underneath your bra and pinched your nipple. “Ow! I’ve never told anyone.”

“Ah, I knew you were a good girl.”

You whined again and nuzzled your head in the crook of his shoulder, not wanting him to see how flustered he was making you. 

“Pretty girl,” he murmured, unclasping your bra, watching your breasts fall out. “Beautiful girl . . . Can I suck?”

“Yes!” you said impatiently. You found it sexy that he kept asking for permission, but also annoying—he needed to get straight to the point, and stop teasing you.

He latched his lip onto your hard nipple, swirling his tongue around the bud, occasionally nipping on it. While his mouth was occupied, his hands were roaming your body, up to your face and down to as far as he could reach, which while you were sitting down, was all the way to your ankles.

He switched nipples and went to your other breast, making you release a sigh of satisfaction. He eventually let go and gave you another kiss, his tongue slipping inside.

You looked down. He was hard, subtly trying to grind himself between your legs. “Mmm,” he moaned against your lips. 

His moan was wonderful. If not for your own pleasure, you wanted to continue this just so you could elicit another sound out of him.

In a bold move, you reached down and squeezed his crotch. He let out a sound, more strangled this time, and pulled away, a string of saliva connecting you both.

He placed his hand over the hand that was palming his cock, encouraging you to keep going, with eyes shut and nose scrunched up. He then moved it to lean on your shoulders.

“Do you like it rough or vanilla?” he asked. “I can do both.”

You tried to hide your grin. “Rough.”

He knew that by saying that you didn’t want it completely that way. The actions, yes, but you still wanted to hear him praise you, to caress you, to whisper sweet things in your ear.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” He picked you — handsome and strong — and laid you down on the couch. It wasn’t that large, but at least it was more comfortable than his desk, and you didn’t want to wait any longer by going to his place or yours.

“I want to let you know,” he started seriously, “that this isn’t a, uh, one-night stand. I don’t want that, not from you.”

“I don’t want that either,” you said. 

“And I don't do this often. Well, I don't do this at all. With other students, I mean. You’re the first. I don’t want you to think that I’m just, how do you say it? playing you?”

You giggled. He didn’t seem like the playboy type at all. In fact, when most men and women flirted with him, he usually got all uncomfortable and quiet, a fact that boosted your ego, as he never felt that way around you.

“This is serious for me, too. Let’s keep it a secret until this semester is over. And when I’m out of your class we can make it public, okay?”

He nodded, and leaned down to kiss you again, soft and delicate. 

“Take off your shirt,” you demanded.

He smiled at your behavior. It took a minute, because he was wearing his suit, but he managed to get it off with your help. You didn’t want to damage his clothing, it was probably on the more expensive side, and he looked so exquisite in it. 

You admired his chest. He was lean, but you could still see some faint muscles. After all, he had carried you to the couch. He was perfect. It was just what you had hoped for.

This moment didn’t feel real. How was it that you had gotten so lucky? You were here with the man of your dreams, in his arms, and you were about to make love. 

“Get on your knees.”

You did as he asked. You had done this a couple times before, so you weren’t really worried. You could even take cock all the way in, but when you saw his size, you gulped.

He guided your face to it. You licked the tip to the base to the balls, wondering how you were going to make it fit. You reasoned with yourself that if you couldn’t you could just use your hands for the rest.

That was, until he slid his cock inside your mouth and pushed it as far as he could. You controlled your gag reflex and started bobbing your head up and down, the sensation causing your eyes to tear, but not in pain. 

He wiped them away. “Are you okay?”

You didn’t say anything, not with your mouth filled. You showed your answer by sucking him, fondling his balls, looking up at him through fluttering eyelashes.

“Ohhh, you take it so well. So well.”

He pushed your head all the way down, keeping it there for a few seconds. You breathed in through your nose, trying to keep yourself under control whilst still making the experience pleasurable for him. He seemed to like it, with the way he was rolling his hips against your mouth, even though there was nothing left to fit inside. 

Then, suddenly, you felt something rubbing your clit through your pants. You tried to pull off of Tom, concerned at what it might be, when you realized it was him. He was the one doing it, making you feel this way. 

He kept your head in place, a pleased smile on his face. “Like that?”

You moaned. You couldn’t concentrate on him, not when your body was being pleasured so good. How much practice had he had with his abilities? How could he focus when you were going down on him? It was probably the age. He wasn’t that much older than you, but he was older, and surely that came with more practice. 

He pulled you off of him after a few minutes of you squirming and gagging, placing you down on the couch. He made sure your head was in a comfortable position before taking off your pants and pulling out his cock. Your pussy was still being rubbed, by whatever invisible force he was using, and it was about to make you come.

“I—I’m gonna—”

“I know,” he shushed, pressing his cock at your entrance. 

“Let me make you—”

“No,” he growled. “I’m going to come inside of you. Don’t think, just let your professor handle it.”

You knew he wasn’t technically your professor. He was just the TA, but it was still sexy to hear him say that. It reminded you of your student-teacher relationship, the forbiddeness of it all. 

You came just as his cock slid in. He sighed, feeling your pussy flutter and your cream leak out on him. He looked down, taking in the view, before pulling his cock out and slamming it back in, taking you off guard. 

His pace was unrelenting. You didn’t know he could be so animalistic. He was panting and groaning in your ear, holding your body in place even though you weren’t going anywhere. He was still rubbing your clit — technically — but you didn't mind. You could take another orgasm.  Besides, you weren’t sure if he would stop even if you asked. He looked so blissed out, like he was in another world, the only thing driving him his primal instinct.

“Gonna fill you up so good,” he said, increasing the intensity of his pace. The couch was now shuffling a little, moving forward a little bit each time, but Tom didn’t seem to notice. “You need it so bad. Just want me to take care of you, yeah?”

“Yes,” you cried out, rather pathetically. It was crazy to think how submissive this man could make you. You had never been like this with any of your other partners, but with him, you felt safe, like you trust him with anything.

“I can imagine — you in class, giving me one of those eyes you always do. Fuck — the other students don’t suspect a thing, but both you and I know that I’ll have you over my desk by evening.”

The thought alone made your mind whirl.

“I should fill your panties with my cum, make you walk around in it,” he said. That shouldn’t have aroused you as much as it did. He noticed your reaction. “Oh, you enjoy hearing me say those things? Those depraved, dirty things.”

He hit that spot in you, the one that made you go crazy, and you cried out, clutching his shoulders.

“There it is,” he said, mostly to himself, as he kept ramming that spot over and over again. The added sensations made you go limp in his arms. You could feel that familiar coil in your stomach, the one that told you you were going to orgasm again.

You threw your head back, looking up at the ceiling as you came, but your peace of mind didn’t last long. He grabbed your chin and forced you to look back at him, beating that same spot again, all while continuing the assault on your clit. “Look at me, I want to see your face.”

You looked right into his eyes, his beautiful blue eyes, and you could tell an orgasm was coming for him, too.

You felt a little ashamed that in such a short time he had made you come twice, and you hadn’t at all — at least, not yet — but like he said before, he didn’t want you to think, so you didn’t, and let whatever thoughts you had left bouncing around in your head leave.

“You’re wonderful,” he praised, kissing you again. He couldn’t get enough of it. Your teeth clashed briefly, but neither of your cared. He just wanted to taste you. “I can’t wait to be with you.”

With that, he came inside, filling you up to the brim with his hot seed. He kept his cock in, holding your hips in place, until he was satisfied and pulled out.

He laid on top of you on the couch, caressing the side of your cheek as you both recovered and took your breath. 

It was silent. Just the two of you, in his office. You had finally found the one. The one you were sure you were going to spend the rest of your life with, all happy and in love like a fairytale.

“I didn’t . . . I didn’t think I’d ever find another,” you finally said.

“I didn’t either. I’m glad it was you. I’m glad it’s you I get to share this with.”

“Hey, what was with the cards? Were you just testing me?”

“Yeah.” He turned to face you. “I wasn’t sure if I was just seeing things. I mean, you get up so early and go to work, sometimes you just imagine a kid opening a door on its own or playing tricks with her assignments. I had to be sure.”

“So, you weren’t intending to tell my future?”

“You can’t actually do that,” he said.

“Yes you can.”

He blinked, surprised. 

“I know you said the interpretation is very broad, but it still works.”

“You can actually tell the future?”

“Yeah. It doesn’t have to be with Tarot cards only. But whatever methods, I don’t do it often, I feel like it messes with things. But sometimes I just get these images in my head, and I can’t stop it.”

It hadnt occurred to you that even though you were both psychic, your powers, or at least, the direction you went with them, were different.

“If you weren’t reading my future, what were you doing?”

“I noticed that objects imbued with magic, especially artifacts, radiated energy—a feeling, one that only I could sense. If I gave the same impression on those cards, and you happened to pick them, it would either be a huge coincidence or it would mean you were drawn to them, albeit unknowingly. It was just something to give me more confidence.”

You weren’t aware that was something a person could do. You supposed there were plenty of things you didn’t know. You were looking forward to learning from him, and teaching him as well. You were both in uncharted waters, not knowing where this would lead you both. But it was okay, as long as you had him by your side.

You did worry a little that this intense connection you felt with him was only in an otherworldly sense, that you fell for him because of this magic, but you shook the thought away. That wasn’t true. You wouldn’t let it be true. You loved him and he loved you—and that was it. Nothing more. 

“I can do another round,” he said suddenly. “You?”

You grinned and nodded. “Yeah. But this time, I want to ride you.”

He laughed and flipped you both over so that you were on top of him. “Show me how you get off, babygirl.”

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