#you can keep a straight face through anything

[svtiddiess]

Now Baby

Synopsis: What better way to make use of the adrenaline rush from the stage than a post-concert fuck?

Pairing: Seungcheol x stylist!afab!reader

Genre: smut, established relationship, series

Rating: mature

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: penetrative sex, unprotected sex (don't do this!), creampie, exhibitionism(?), semi-public sex, orgasm denial, dom!Seungcheol, sub!reader, lemme know if I missed anything!

Note: Surprise! The celebration doesn't stop until I say so! Enjoy the final fic for the celebration, a bonus to the Quiet Baby series!

Thank you Ally @lovetaroandtaemin for beta reading!

Quiet Baby | Kneel Baby | Louder Baby | Now Baby

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Read on ao3

Reblogs are appreciated ♡

.ᐟMinors/blank/no age indicator blogs will be blocked.ᐟ

You rock back and forth on your heels, waiting backstage as the muffled cheers of the crowd bring a smile to your face. They're all here for Seungcheol—your Seungcheol. Even after months of being together, the thought of calling him yours still makes you giddy.

You both tried to keep your relationship a secret, but in Seventeen, secrets don't exist. The rest of the members figured it out almost instantly. Luckily, management is still in the dark—otherwise, you'd be at risk of losing your job, and that's the last thing you want (not that Seungcheol would ever let that happen).

Your eyes stay glued to the monitor as the group takes their final bow, officially wrapping up what felt like an endless concert—courtesy of their never-ending "Aju Nice" encores.

Your grin widens the moment you spot Seungcheol stepping off stage, heading straight for you. Before you can even greet him, he grabs your hand and pulls you deeper backstage.

"Cheol, where are we—" Your words cut off as he shoves you into an empty green room, locks the door, and crashes his lips against yours in a hungry kiss.

You melt into his embrace, completely consumed by the kiss—messy, heated, and desperate. His hands roam eagerly over your body, gripping and exploring every curve. A soft moan escapes your lips as his hands find your breasts, squeezing them with a hunger that sends a jolt of pleasure through you.

"I need you. Now," he murmurs against your lips, his voice low and urgent, before capturing your mouth in another searing kiss. He guides you to the couch, laying you down with a gentle yet firm insistence.

"Cheol, what if we get caught?" You whimper, your voice trembling as his lips trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck.

"Then we'll just have to finish before the others get here, baby," he smirks, his tone teasing but laced with desire before his lips crash into yours again.

A shiver runs through you as his calloused hands slide beneath your shirt, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. In one swift motion, he pulls your shirt off, leaving you exposed in just your bra. He leans in, his breath warm against your skin, and teases your bra-covered nipple with a slow, deliberate lick. A whine escapes your lips, your body arching instinctively toward his touch.

"Don't tease," you pout, your voice laced with playful frustration, drawing a low chuckle from him.

"Such a spoiled princess," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your skin as he deftly unclasps your bra, letting it fall away and leaving your chest bare.

A shiver ripples down your spine as the cool air kisses your exposed skin. Without hesitation, Seungcheol's mouth finds your nipple, his lips sealing around it as he sucks gently, his hand teasing and toying with the other. Your fingers instinctively tangle in his hair, tugging him closer and urging him to take more. A sharp whimper escapes you when he bites down, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure mixed with pain through your body.

You feel yourself growing wetter by the second, the heat between your thighs intensifying as waves of pleasure surge through you. The sensation of your damp panties clinging to your skin is almost unbearable, and your hips begin to grind against his of their own accord, desperate for more friction. Seungcheol chuckles softly at your needy state, his lips trailing a slow, deliberate path down your body, inching closer to where you need him most.

With deliberate slowness, he peels off your pants, his grin widening as he notices the obvious damp spot on your panties. "Already so wet for me," he hums, his voice thick with desire. He drags a finger over the soaked fabric, making you squirm and whine in frustration.

"Cheol, you said we should hurry," you whine, your voice trembling with need.

"Hush, baby. Or I won't let you cum," he growls, his tone both commanding and teasing. You pout at him, but he only grins in response, clearly enjoying the control he has over you.

He slowly slides your panties down, his breath catching at the sight of your glistening, exposed core. "Fuck," he mutters under his breath before slipping a finger inside you, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips.

You squirm instinctively as his finger begins to move, the sensation overwhelming. "Stay still," he growls, his other hand pinning you down firmly. His fingers work you with precision, curling and thrusting in a rhythm that leaves you breathless. The wet, slick sounds of his movements mix with your moans, filling the room.

A choked mewl escapes your throat when he curls his fingers just right, hitting that sweet spot that sends sparks shooting through your body. He knows you too well, and he knows exactly how to push you to the edge with practiced ease.

Your moans grow higher and more desperate as you feel yourself teetering on the brink of release. But, just as you're about to tip over, he suddenly withdraws his fingers, leaving you gasping and writhing, your orgasm ripped away before you can reach it. A loud, frustrated wail escapes you, your body trembling with unfulfilled need.

"Did you really think I'd let you cum on my fingers?" He chuckles darkly, his voice dripping with amusement. "No, baby, you're only allowed to come on my cock." With that, he pulls down his pants, freeing his hard length. The tip is flushed and glistening, beads of precum already leaking as he positions himself between your legs.

In one swift, unrelenting motion, he slams into you, the force of it knocking the breath from your lungs. Your hands fly to his shoulders, gripping them tightly as if they're your only anchor. He sets a brutal, animalistic pace, each thrust driving you deeper into the haze of pleasure. His fingers dig into your hips with a possessive intensity, sure to leave bruises as a reminder of this moment later.

The air around you is thick with the heady mix of sex, sweat, and the faint trace of his cologne, overwhelming your senses and leaving you lightheaded. Your mouth falls open in a silent cry, your eyes rolling back as you surrender completely to the raw, unrelenting pleasure coursing through you.

"Perfect pussy, made just for me. Isn't that right, baby? You're meant to be fucked by me, only me," he growls between thrusts, his voice rough and possessive. All you can do is moan in response, your mind too hazy to form any coherent words.

"Did I already fuck you dumb, baby?" he teases with a low chuckle. Your only reply is another desperate moan.

Your body feels like it's melting beneath him, every thrust hitting that perfect angle that sends electric jolts of pleasure shooting through you.

Knock knock!

The sound of knocking at the door makes you choke back a gasp, your eyes widening in alarm as you glance at Seungcheol. But, he doesn't stop—if anything, his pace becomes even more relentless, his grip on your hips tightening as he drives into you with a ferocity that leaves you breathless.

Suddenly, the air feels heavier, charged with a dangerous thrill. The thought of being caught only fuels your arousal, and Seungcheol groans when your walls clench around him, as if your body is reacting to the risk.

"Shit, you're so tight," he groans, his voice strained. "Fuck, you're such a slut," he chuckles darkly, his breath hot against your ear. "You want them to come in and see how good I'm fucking you, don't you, baby?"

His words send a shiver through you, and you can't help but moan loudly, your body tightening around him again. Seungcheol groans in response, his pace quickening as if he's determined to make sure whoever's on the other side of the door knows exactly what's happening.

You try to muffle your cries, but Seungcheol won't let you. His hand snakes down to your clit, rubbing it with expert precision, drawing loud, unrestrained wails from you.

"That's it, scream my name, baby. Let them know how good I'm making you feel," he purrs, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

With a few more deep, punishing thrusts, you're pushed over the edge, crying out his name so loudly you're sure it echoes beyond the room. Seungcheol follows soon after, his own moans muffled against your neck as he spills into you, his hips stuttering as he rides out his release.

For a few moments, you both lie there, catching your breath as the intensity of the moment slowly fades. Seungcheol brushes a few strands of hair from your face, his touch surprisingly tender, before leaning in to capture your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. It's a sweet reminder of the love that underlies the passion, and you can't help but smile as you melt into it.

After pulling out, he helps you get dressed, both of you cleaning up as best as you can. Seungcheol gives you one last kiss before unlocking the door.

It swings open to reveal Minghao, his expression a mix of disgust and exasperation as he takes in the scene.

"You guys are absolutely disgusting," he scoffs, shaking his head. "You really couldn't wait until you got home? You just had to taint the room with your…horniness?"

Your face burns with embarrassment, and you instinctively hide behind Seungcheol, who only shrugs, looking far too smug for someone who just got caught.

Minghao sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I swear, it's the same thing after every single concert," he mutters, stepping past you to grab the phone he'd left behind. He shoots you both one last disapproving glare before storming out of the room.

"Cheol, you said we wouldn't get caught," you whine, your cheeks still flushed.

He laughs, pulling you close. "Don't act like you didn't enjoy it, baby," he says with a grin, sealing his words with another kiss.

And you can't help but grin back because, well…he's not wrong. You did enjoy it—a lot.

Taglist: @tinyelfperson @gyuguys @stay-tiny-things @unlikelysublimekryptonite @miyx-amour @iamawkwardandshy @codeinebelle @brownbunnyb @do-you-remember-summer-127 @sclovreina @theidontknowmehn @toplinehyunjin @gyuhao365 @mysticfairies @cherrylovescheol @cookiearmy @4shypotato @lxnnrobin @sashaaahh @xueisaaa17 @aeriyell @eshia16 @dreamingofpcy @archivistworld @kyeomiis @iwannakisspoutycheol @foxiesgf24 @livelaughloveseventeen @aliiikareed @jennwonwoo @brownsugarbaybee

[moody-alcoholic]

Inspired by: Service Dog Johnny by the amazing void-my-warranty. I had the idea of; what if the roles were slightly different. What if Johnny invited Simon to come and fuck his girl to get over his fears.

Anyway. I'm super nervous about this because I really don't think I can do SDJ justice but enjoy none the less. Also void if you're seeing this you're awesome thank you for gifting the world SDJ.❤️

Part 1

Summary: John MacTavish x reader x Simon Riley (kinda), WC: 3.2k

CW: +18 content MDNI, Voyeurism, exhibitionism, fingering, angst, implied past abuse.

Enjoy <3

---

It’s Friday when Johnny springs the news his friend is coming round that evening. He didn’t give you much time to prepare, or get the house clean but you do the best you can. Johnny does go to the store for you and picks up some beer for them both. 

“You don’t need to do anything special.” Johnny says opening a beer. 

“I don’t mind, it's not that big of a deal, I like cooking.” You say, he comes over and wraps his arm round your waist kissing your neck.

“What exactly does he need help with?” You asks stirring the food. 

“Well, it’s.” He sighs, taking another sip of the beer. You turn to look at him, he seems nervous. 

“Would you ever be up for a threesome?” He asks suddenly. The question shocks you a little, you reach over and pick up your glass of wine. You weren’t expecting that, not the most unusual thing Johnny has asked you about when it comes to sex though.

“I mean, would you?” You ask taking a sip to quell the nerves. 

“Depends on who the other person is.” He says, running his hand through his hair. You take another sip and put the glass down. 

“What has this got to do with Simon? Is he the person you would want to have a threesome with?” You ask frowning. He takes another swing of his beer. 

“It’s not that simple.” Johnny says, you shake your head, now you’re even more confused. 

“I want to help him have sex.” Johnny says, holding his hands out. 

“Help him have sex by having a threesome?” You ask. 

“There’s more to it than that. It’s not just a threesome.” Johnny says. “He’s, he’s been through alot. Being intimate, it’s something he’s not very used to.” 

“Okay. Is he shy?” You’re not sure what to say, you've never even met him. 

“Shy? No, not Simon, well-” Johnny’s sentence gets cut off by the ringing of the door. 

“Just trust me, okay?” He says coming over to you and resting his free hand on your shoulder. You nod, you trust him. Now all of a sudden you feel nervous, you weren’t nervous before now, Johnny leaves the room to answer the door. So he’s invited Simon round for sex? Did Simon ask for this or is this one of Johnny’s master plans?

Or well, maybe he’s not here for sex because Simon has intimacy issues apparently. He should be talking to a therapist, what does Johnny expect to do? You have to keep a straight face though, you don’t want to make him more uncomfortable then he probably already is.

You turn off the stove hearing Johnny laugh as he comes in with Simon. You turn and smile at him, you put your hand out to shake it as Johnny introduces you. He’s not what you expect and he doesn’t seem shy. 

He’s massive, bigger and taller than Johnny, he’s definitely good looking, fit, brown eyes and blonde hair. With the way he holds himself you can tell he’s a soldier, Johnny does the same when he’s nervous, he probably doesn’t even realise it. 

“Thank you for cooking, you didn’t have to.” Simon says as you all walk over to the dining table. 

“I told her the same,” Johnny says, nudging him.  

“I don’t mind, besides when was the last time you had a home cooked meal?” You say going back into the kitchen while Johnny and Simon sit down. You finish your glass of wine swallowing the nerves, it’s going to be fine. What's the worst that could happen, you all have sex? 

That wouldn’t be the worst thing. 

…

Johnny and Simon seem to get on great, after a beer they both relax. You just enjoy listening to them talk about their last deployment. You don’t mind letting your second glass of wine mull you out. After everyone is finished and your stomach’s have settled Johnny insists on moving to the living room.

You all end up on the sofa, you find yourself relaxing against Johnny as he wraps his arms around you. Maybe Johnny won’t bring it up or maybe he’s waiting for Simon to bring it up. It’s not your job surly, you look up at Johnny, blinking at him, maybe he’ll get the idea. 

He smiles and kisses your forehead. Maybe not. You sigh looking back over at the bottle of wine and unopened beer cans on the table. 

“When was the last time you got laid LT?” Johnny asks suddenly. You snap your head back up to look at him. He’s got a cheeky grin on his face looking over at Simon. You hear him clear his throat, now you feel bad. Fucking epitome of subtle as always Johnny.

“Why do you want to know?” Simon replies, you look over at him. He’s resting the beer on his knee, he doesn’t seem nervous. More irritated that Johnny asked him. 

“Just looking out for you Si. Need you to blow off some steam before we’re back to work and you’re busting my balls again.” Johnny chuckles, at least that makes Simon smile. 

“Do you have a girlfriend?” You ask him trying to steer the conversion away from the awkwardness hanging in the air. 

“No.” You swallow the lump forming in your throat. You let out a breath sitting up. Johnny frowns at you. 

“I’m going to the bathroom.” You say, Johnny smiles his hand resting on your hip for as long as can. 

When you make your way back down you hear Johnny talking. You hang back for a second and eavesdrop. 

“I wanna help you Simon.” Johnny says.

“You don’t have to.” Simon replies.

“Well of course I don’t have to. I want to.” Johnny replies, Simon sighs and you hear a can open. “I think it would be good for you, if you want. We’ll take it slow, promise.” 

You feel a lump rise in your throat at Johnny’s words, you always knew he was close with his unit but you didn’t know he was this close. You let out a breath and slowly walk back into the room. You see Johnny move his hand off Simon’s thigh and you go over to pick the empty cans off the table. 

“Need anything?” You ask, trying to keep your voice level. Johnny and Simon both shake their heads. You go into the kitchen anyway to throw out the cans. You hear Johnny coming in, his hands slip round your waist. You smile at his touch and turn to face him. 

“Do you mind doing this?” Johnny asks, his thumb comes up to brush your cheek. 

“Do you?” You ask. He smiles, nodding his head. You smile back, reaching up and kissing him. 

“We’ll take it slow. You want to stop at any time we will.” Johnny says his hand rubbing your arm. 

“I don’t think it’s me you need to be worrying about.” You say. 

“Sorry I sort of sprung this on you, I didn’t know if he would agree.” He says, you frown. 

“Did you speak to him about this before tonight?” 

“I hinted at the idea.” 

“Hinted?” You scoff. “John MacTavish, you're the least subtle person I have ever met.” You wrap your arm around his waist pulling him against you. He hums with that cheeky grin on his face. 

“What happened to the bra?” He asks. You smile. 

“One less obstacle.” He kisses your forehead. You follow him back into the living room, Simon has moved onto the recliner. This time when you sit back on the sofa you don’t lean against Johnny. 

Simon seems to be suddenly extremely interested in what’s going on on the news. Johnny’s hand lands on your thigh and rubs it. He turns and leans in to kiss you, he takes his time mapping your mouth out, you relax into the kiss forgetting Simon’s there for a second.

Johnny’s hand slips up your shirt groping your breast. You hum in his mouth and he pulls away from the kiss. He removes it, gripping the hem of your shirt. You raise an eyebrow at him, what you’re just going to fuck while he watches or maybe joins in.

Johnny tips his head to the side smiling. You swallow the nerves and hold your hands up so he can slip your top off. A satisfied noise leaves Johnny and before you can start to feel really embarrassed about anything he’s already locked his mouth round one of your nipples.

You can’t help moaning and running your hand through his hair. He had it cut while he was away, you want him to grow it out again so you have something to grip onto. Johnny’s tongue flicks your nipple and he gently nibbles it before he pulls his mouth off with an audible pop. 

“What do you think, Si?” Johnny asks, looking over at him. You look over to see Simon press his lips together. “Pretty ain’t she?”

You feel heat rush to your cheeks as he nods, it doesn’t last long though. Johnny pulls you closer to him, planting his lips on yours and pressing his tongue in your mouth while his thumb rubs circles on your nipple still wet from his mouth.

He breaks from the kiss pressing his forehead on yours. “How ‘bout you go show Simon how good you are?” He says, it’s almost a whisper. You nod and he gives you one last quick kiss before you stand up. 

Johnny's hand lingers on the small of your back for as long as he can as you step over to stand in front of Simon. He doesn’t look that nervous, you know he is though, the way his lips are pressed together avoiding your eye line. His hands gripping the chair arms. You’re not sure what to do, make sure you don’t freak him out is probably a good start. 

“I’m not a virgin.” He says, you clench your jaw feeling awkward. “It’s just been a while, I'm out of practice.” 

“How long?” You ask.

You bring his hand up and place it on your breast. “I like having my nipples played with.” You say letting go of his hand, encouraging him to squeeze. You smile at him, you need to keep yourself open and calm. 

“Couple of years,” he says, like it's the most embarrassing fact in the world. Now you just feel bad for him, again. You reach down for the hand resting on the chair arm and pick it up. You can see the bulge in his pants, that's good, one less obstacle you need to worry about. 

His hands are rougher than Johnny’s, his grip is tighter, you’re not sure if it’s out of nerves or not. If he relaxes it will be easier, you don’t think that's going to be happening any time soon. His thumb brushes over your nipple and you reward it with a hum, trying to make your body relax even more. 

His other hand comes up to your other beast and before you know it he has both his thumbs running over your nipples. It feels good, if this were any other situation-or Johnny you might be able to cum just like this. 

You feel Johnny step up behind you, his hands land on your waist as he pulls you back against him. 

“Wanna see what else she likes?” He asks, resting his chin on your shoulder. Simon looks up at him and nods. Johnny leaves you and Simon drops his hand as you both watch Johnny move the coffee table out the way. When he’s done he goes over to the sofa and pulls the throw down on the floor, sitting down with his back against the sofa. 

“Come.” He says gesturing at you, you raise an eyebrow and walk over anyway, he spreads his legs and pats on the floor between them.

“Pants off, back on my chest.” He says, you nod pulling them off. This time you don’t get embarrassed thinking about Simon seeing you. You sit down between his legs and rest up against his back. You look over at Simon who’s face has turned a light red. Maybe this is too much, too fast. 

He hasn’t said stop though. Johnny reaches over and pulls your knees up so Simon has a perfect view of you spread out against him. You can feel his own cock pressing against your lower back, his hands run down your thighs eventually pressing on your clit. 

You try not to squirm, keeping yourself still. You let out a breath as Johnny moves his fingers round soaking them in your juices before pressing them back on your clit. You moan this time at the new sensation, his fingers pressing little circles with ease. 

That’s good though right? You should be looking like you’re enjoying yourself. This is a fun activity not something to be afraid off. 

“She likes this too, Si. Wanna feel?” Johnny says then presses a kiss into your neck. You watch as he shifts in the chair, for a second he looks like he doesn’t know what to say. He lets out a sigh and stands up out of the chair, he steps over then kneels down in front of you. He watches for a second as Johnny changes his strokes. 

You see Simon swallow before he reaches out. Johnny’s fingers are replaced with his. It’s a whole different sensation. His movements are slower, more unsure but the pressure is there and from having them both play with your nipples your body is slowly building up to that sweet release. 

“Put your fingers in her.” Johnny says after a few seconds. Simon looks up at him then quickly to you, you smile and nod at him. He shuffles on his knees again taking his fingers off your clit almost like he’s unsure. 

You watch his adam's apple bob then he presses a finger into you. You can’t help moaning, his finger stops, you smile at him and he continues to press it in until he can’t anymore. You feel Johnny’s cock twitch behind you. He’s enjoying this, he moves his fingers back to your clit. 

“Feel good love?” Johnny asks in your ear, you nod. “Use your words darlin’ tell him how good you feel.” 

“Your finger feels good Simon, you can use more if you want.” You say looking up at him. You think you see the faintest smile creep onto his lips. The next time he pulls his finger out he adds another. The new stretch makes you part your legs further, scooting your position slightly so his fingers rub against your g-spot with each thrust. You moan again, this time tipping your head slightly. You want to come but not until Simon’s ready, you don’t want to scare him. 

“See not so scary after all.” Johnny says, you can hear the smile in his voice. You look up at Simon who seems like he’s in a world of his own, maybe that's where he needs to be to get through this. You wonder what happened to him, you didn’t bother asking Johnny. It must have been something horrible. 

You let out a moan trying not to clench down on Simon’s fingers, you don’t want to spook him. Johnny hums in your neck, you know he’ll know you’re close, sometimes it feels like he can read your body better than you. 

“What to make her cum?” Johnny asks, you almost want to nod and scream yes. Simon looks up again, he hesitates for a second, his fingers stopping in you. He nods and you smile at him. 

“Just don’t take your fingers out okay?” Johnny asks, you swallow, you don’t want either of them to take their fingers off you. Simon nods again, his fingers start moving again, he makes sure to press in all the way. He speeds up too, you’re not in control anymore, maybe it’s for the best. 

Johnny’s fingers on your clit are relentless, you’re focusing on not spooking Simon or clenching around his fingers until you cum. Johnny hums in your ear and it sends shivers down your spine. He can tell your close cock twitches behind you. You’re not sure if you need to give an audible warning to Simon though. 

Your breathing increases as does your moaning, you’re close and you need to make your mind up. 

“Johnny.” You call his name, it’s almost like you need to wait for his permission, you’re not sure what to do.

“Yeah baby, come for us.” His voice low in your ear. Christ, that's all the permission you need, you tip your head back and close your eyes moaning as you clench down on Simon’s fingers. He stops moving but you don’t care. Johnny rides you through the orgasm as Simon’s fingers leave you. 

“See, not so bad.” You hear Johnny say. You open your eyes as you feel Simon get up to his feet. 

“Si?” Johnny asks as he moves to leave the room. You sit up.

“Bathroom.” Is all he says as he leaves the living room.

“Is he okay?” You ask leaning forward between Johnny’s legs. You turn to look at him watching out the door. You both hear the downstairs toilet door close. Johnny looks back over at you and smiles, you can see the concern in his eyes though, he’s not as slick as he thinks he is. 

“You did great.” He smiles, leaning forward to kiss you. You can’t help feeling like you’ve done something wrong though. Maybe it was all too much for him. 

“I’ll go check on him.” Johnny says helping you to your feet. You smile at him and nod. Maybe he just needs a second. You feel bad all of a sudden. Johnny leaves and you shiver, the room suddenly feels cold. You’re just standing there naked, you’re not sure if things are going to continue. 

You reach over pulling the other throw off the couch and wrap yourself up. At least this way if he wants to keep going you don’t have to go through the hassle of taking all your clothes off. You want to sit down but your curiosity gets the better of you and you head over to the living room door. 

You hear the toilet door open. No one says anything, you make sure to keep out of sight of the hall, trying to focus on listening. 

You hear Johnny sigh. “You did so well mate.” There’s a sniffle in response, is he crying? Now you really feel bad for eavesdropping. 

“Wanna stay the night?” Johnny asks, there’s no response.

“Want a mask?” He asks, you frown, a mask? “Guest room, in the chest of drawers.” You hear movement and step back over to sit on the sofa. You’re still getting comfy as Johnny walks in. He smiles at you and comes over to sit next to you. His arm comes round your shoulders and he pulls you up against him. 

“Simon’s going to stay the night.” He says kissing the top of your head. You nod trying to swallow the guilt of eavesdropping on their conversation. Johnny reaches over to pick up the remote and unmute the TV. 

“Is he okay?” You ask. 

“He’s fine. He just needs a minute.” Johnny says. You nod 

“Thank you.” He says. “Really I mean it. You didn’t have to do this.” You look up at him and smile, it makes you feel all warm inside.

“I love you johnny.” You say. 

“I love you too.”

---

[snowysosturn]

Fire & Desire - Matt Sturniolo Part 22

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22

Pairing: Y/n x Matt Sturniolo

Summary: Y/n has always clashed with Matt. Despite working for Chris’s clothing brand and being close with Nick, her relationship with Matt has always been tense at best. While being forced to be around each other more, their animosity turns into something deeper. Can they overcome their differences, or will their fiery emotions tear them apart?

Warnings: Angst, tension, feeling of betrayal, mentions of loss of appetite, arguments, this ones a looooooong one

The sun is beginning its slow descent by the time I finally drag myself out of bed. My body feels heavy, like I’ve been carrying the weight of the world in my chest. I need something, anything, to ground me, and right now, a cup of tea sounds like the only thing that might help.

That’s the plan. Go to the kitchen, make it, and come straight back up to my room. I’ll sit on my balcony and watch the last bits of sunlight disappear while I think about what to do next.

 But my main goal: avoid Matt.

I slip out of my room, moving as quietly as possible. The last thing I want is to draw attention to myself. The house is silent apart from the distant murmur of voices outside on the patio. I catch a glimpse through the window, figures sitting around, but I can’t make out exactly who. Not that it matters. I’m not stopping to find out.

The only sound that gives away my presence is the low whirl of the kettle. I stand there, staring at it as it heats up, feeling every second drag out like an eternity. I grab a mug and put the tea bag in it so as soon as it clicks off, I can pour the water and milk, moving quickly but carefully. Just get in, get out.

Successfully, I make my tea. 

Mission accomplished. 

Now, I just need to make it back upstairs.

But just as I start up the steps, the sound of the patio door sliding open sends a jolt of panic through me. 

Shit.

I don’t even turn to see who it is, I just pick up my pace, practically going up the steps two at a time.

I reach the top of the stairs and turn the corner, then..

BAM.

I nearly spill my tea everywhere as I slam into someone, my breath catching in my throat. I look up, and my stomach drops.

Matt.

For a split second, time slows. His eyes lock onto mine, searching, but I don’t give him the chance. Like I’m on autopilot, my feet keep moving, my mouth stays shut, and I walk right past him without a single word.

I don’t stop. I don’t hesitate. I reach my room, step inside, and lock the door behind me.

I let out a shaky breath, gripping my mug a little tighter. I try my best to shake it off. It was just a few seconds. Just an unfortunate encounter in a house that now feels way too small.

I know I’m going to have to face him sooner or later. There’s no avoiding it forever. But I’m not ready right now, not for a one on one, not for the inevitable conversation.

So, instead of dwelling on it, I step onto the balcony. The sun is slowly dropping lower, so I sit here and try an appreciate the sky, and for the first time all day, I feel like I can breathe..

Until there's a knock at my door.

I freeze.

No. No, no, no. If this is Matt, I swear to god.

But then I hear a familiar voice from the other side of the door.

“Y/n? It’s me.”

Nick.

Relief washes over me so quickly it almost knocks me over. I exhale, setting my tea down on the small table before walking back inside. I hesitate for just a second before unlocking the door.

Nick steps into the room, his expression soft but searching mine. "How you doing?"

I shrug lightly, forcing a small smile. "I'm okay.. I just made a cup of tea. Was gonna sit out on the balcony while the sun sets."

Nick nods, his eyes flicking toward the open balcony doors. "Mind if I sit with you?"

"Of course not" I say, stepping aside so he can follow me out.

We settle into the chairs. The silence between us is comforting, a huge difference to the chaos of the past twenty four hours.

After a minute, Nick clears his throat. "I ran into Matt coming up the stairs."

My body stiffens, fingers tightening around my mug. "Oh."

“I just asked if he had spoken to you yet, and he said no."

I huff out a breath, looking back toward the view. I take a slow sip of my tea before turning back to Nick. "So, what's your plan for the night?"

He leans back in his chair, stretching his legs out in front of him. "I'm gonna go meet that guy."

I raise an eyebrow. "That guy? You’ve been talking about him for days, and I still don’t even know his name."

Nick hesitates, his expression shifting slightly. He looks at me like he's bracing for something.

I narrow my eyes. "Nick.. what?"

He winces, rubbing the back of his neck. "His name is.. George."

For a second, we just stare at each other. Then, at the exact same moment, we both burst out laughing.

"George?!" I manage between laughs.

"I know! I know!" Nick groans, covering his face. "I was hoping you wouldn’t ask."

"I'm sorry, but that’s just- " I laugh harder, shaking my head.

Nick grins, finally giving in. "I know I never pictured myself with a George but I swear, the way he is makes up for it though!"

"I'm sure it does.." I say, still giggling. "It's just.. George."

We end our fit of laughter and I don’t bother asking what everyone else’s plans are, especially after overhearing Chris earlier. My guess is he’s going to meet Rachel. Whether Matt tags along to meet Christina too is a different story. I don’t want to know. All I know is that I’m not moving from this room.

Nick doesn’t press the conversation any further, and I appreciate that. Instead, we sit there, laughter lingering in the air between us. I'm glad Nick came into me because suddenly I feel a little bit lighter.

Eventually, he checks his phone and sighs. "I should probably start getting ready."

I nod, still staring at the sunset. "Yeah. Have fun."

Nick hesitates for a second before standing. "You sure you’re good?"

I glance at him, offering a small smile. "Yeah, I’m good." I mean it is a lie, but he doesn’t call me out on it.

He squeezes my shoulder before heading out. I exhale, setting my empty mug down on the table beside me. I know I should eat something, try to distract myself, maybe even attempt to sleep, but I don’t move. I stay curled up in my chair, staring at the fading sky, wondering how everything changed so fast.

When I finally move to my bed, I pull the covers up around me, but even laying here feels weird. The sheets feel awful against me now, tainted with memories that once brought comfort but now only make my stomach churn. My mind spirals, picturing how easily our history could be replicated in his bed, with someone else. The thought makes my chest tighten, and I squeeze my eyes shut, wanting it all to stop.

I take a deep breath, then another, but it doesn’t help. My mind keeps circling back to the same place, the same questions, the same ache in my chest that refuses to go away. How could he do this? Did any of it mean anything? Was I just another passing moment for him?

I need to make it stop.

I turn onto my side, curling into myself, exhausted from it all. Being honest, my eyes hurt that much from crying, I don’t find it hard to fall asleep.

I wake up the next morning determined to be a new woman. I have a shower to wash away all of yesterday's sorrow, before pulling out the smallest blue bikini I could find. I make my way downstairs and throw myself together a small breakfast, considering I haven't eaten in over 24 hours but not forcing myself too much as my appetite still isn't fully back yet.

I take my breakfast outside to the patio and I settle onto a lounger, my plate resting on my lap. The villa is silent. Everyone must still be asleep, sleeping off their drunken choices, their reckless mistakes.

Good. I need the peace.

I take a slow bite of my food, staring out at the water. The pool glistens under the morning light, the water undisturbed. Today is a new day. A fresh start.

I adjust my sunglasses and stretch out after putting my plate under my lounger, determined to soak in the sun and let it warm the parts of me that feel cold and bitter. If anyone sees me out here, I want them to see that I’m unbothered. That I’m fine.

A few minutes pass in silence before I hear the sliding door creak open behind me. I don't turn to look. I don't react.

I realise it’s Nate and Nick coming out, both looking more awake than I expected.

"Morning" they say in unison, and I greet them with a small smile “Morning early birds.”

I turn to Nick first. "Soooo? How was your night with George?"

Nick rubs the back of his neck, and I can tell he’s holding back his excitement for my sake. "It was good" he says simply.

I narrow my eyes at him. "Nick."

He sighs, then finally lets the grin slip through. "Okay, fine. It was great, actually. We got drinks, had a laugh. He’s funny, really easy to talk to."

I smile at him, genuinely happy. "That’s what I like to hear. You deserve a good time."

Nick gives me a look, like he’s checking if I really mean it. I do. Just because my love life is a disaster doesn’t mean I want everyone else to be miserable with me.

I turn to Nate next. "And what about you? What were you up to?"

Nate stretches his arms over his head, looking far too well rested. "Didn’t move from my bed. Best sleep I’ve had in weeks."

I laugh. "Of course you did. You look like you just got back from a spa retreat while the rest of us look like we barely survived the night."

The three of us settle into conversation, and for a moment, I let myself enjoy the lightness of it. But in the back of my mind, I know this moment won’t last. The rest of the villa is still asleep, for now. And soon enough, I’ll have to face the reality I’ve been trying to avoid.

"Is Chris up?" I ask Nate, trying to sound casual.

Nate shakes his head. "Don’t think he even came back here last night."

I swallow hard, nodding slowly. "Oh right"

There's been no sign of Matt either. That tells me everything I need to know.

Guess that means he went out with Chris and stayed with Christina last night again.

I should’ve expected it, but expecting something doesn’t make it hurt any less.

For the rest of the morning, it stays just me, Nick, and Nate chilling outside. The sun climbs higher, and the villa remains quiet, no sign of Chris or Matt. I sip on my water, listening to the distant waves crashing on the shore, slipping in and out of conversation with Nick and Nate as a distraction.

By midday, that peacefulness is interrupted. I hear the sliding door open, followed by the sound of footsteps approaching.

I lift my head slightly, peering through my sunglasses. Chris and Matt step outside together. Just seeing them like this, together, appearing at the same time, only further confirms what I already knew. 

Matt was with Christina last night.

I can feel my heart break over again, but I refuse to let it show.

Without a word, I rest my head back down on the lounger, keeping my sunglasses on, blocking them out. I’m not ready for any type of conversation. Not yet.

Nate and Nick casually greet them, like nothing is out of the ordinary. Chris stretches, rubbing the back of his neck, and asks if anyone’s hungry.

My stomach twists at the thought of food. The second I saw Matt, my appetite vanished again. So I keep my mouth closed.

Nate says he is and disappears inside with them, leaving just me and Nick alone by the pool.

The quiet settles between us for a moment before Nick turns to me. “Are you coming to dinner tonight?” His tone sounds like he wants me to be there, even though he understands If I don’t want to.

I hesitate. The idea of sitting at a table with Matt, pretending everything is fine, feels impossible. I open my mouth to say no, but Nick is already cutting me off.

“You don’t have to talk to him at all” he reassures me. “I’ll be there the whole time.”

I exhale, chewing on my bottom lip. I do feel bad if I don’t go. It’s just dinner, right? I mean, the tension between Matt and I is like old times, nothing I haven’t had to deal with or experience before. The only thing is, the feeling in my chest is a hundred times worse than it ever was before.

“Okay” I finally say. “I’ll come.”

Nick grins, tapping my arm lightly. “We’ll have a good time, I promise.”

I nod, but the weight in my chest doesn’t lift.

By now, it’s nearly 3pm, and the sun has drained me but nowhere near as much as the situation with Matt has. The exhaustion clings to me, both physical and emotional, and I know if I don’t rest now, I’ll be useless later.

“I think I’m gonna go for a nap” I mumble, pushing myself up from the lounger.

Nick gives me a small smile. “Good idea. I’ll wake you if you’re not up in time.”

I nod again, grateful, and make my way inside. The second I hit my bed, the world around me fades.

When I wake up, the air in my room feels heavier, the remnants of my dreams still in my brain. I shake them off and head straight for the shower.

By the time I step out, wrapped in a towel, I feel better. Maybe, tonight won’t be as bad as I think.

I walk out and go to sit at the vanity, but I feel like I need to lift the vibe even more.

A drink and music.

That’s what I need if I have any chance of enjoying myself tonight.

Still in my towel, I make my way downstairs, moving quickly so I don’t run into anyone. I pour myself a vodka lemonade, throwing pieces of ice into the fancy glass.

Running back up to my room, I shut the door, take a sip, and set my speaker on full blast. I turn on It’s ok, i’m ok by Tate McRae, the lyrics hitting a little too close to home. I let the music drown out my thoughts as I start getting ready, determined to feel like myself again, even if it’s just for tonight.

I move through my routine on autopilot, letting the music and the slight buzz from my drink carry me through. I’m not overthinking my outfit, my makeup, or my hair, yet somehow, when I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I look effortlessly put together. Maybe it’s the lighting, maybe it’s the fact that I’ve just given up on caring, but either way, I feel like this is the best I’ve ever looked.

I pick up my phone and text Nick, asking him to come to my room to take pictures. It barely takes a minute before he’s knocking on my door, slipping inside with an approving grin.

“Damnnnn!” he says, dragging the word out. “You look amazing.”

I roll my eyes, but I can’t help the smile that creeps onto my lips. “You have to say that.”

“I really don’t” he laughs, already pulling his phone out. “We need evidence of this moment.”

We take a few pictures together, Nick hyping me up between shots, making me laugh just enough to keep it natural.

When we’re satisfied with the pictures, I wonder where it is we’re actually going to eat. “So, where are we even going for dinner?”

“Some Italian place Chris booked” Nick says, glancing at his phone. “He said he made the reservation earlier.

I nod, I love italian food, so I’m hoping this whole thing is just easy. I grab my purse, double checking that I have everything, phone, keys to the villa, money. I take a deep breath before heading downstairs with Nick.

The moment we step into the foyer, I see them. Chris, Nate, and Matt are all standing together, talking casually like nothing has changed, like the last few days haven’t flipped my world upside down. Matt looks up first. For the briefest second, our eyes meet, and I swear I see something flash across his face, it’s something, but I can’t make out what. But I don’t let myself dwell on it.

I adjust the strap of my purse on my shoulder, forcing my expression to remain neutral. This is the closest I’ve been to Matt since the nightclub, since everything, but I refuse to let it get to me. Not tonight.

I tilt my chin up slightly, gripping onto my confidence like it’s my lifeline, and step forward like I don’t have a care in the world.

I stay locked in conversation with Nick as we leave the villa to make our way to the restaurant, trying to distract myself from the tension in the air. Chris lingers back slightly, eventually matching my pace as we walk. His presence next to me is quiet at first, almost hesitant, before he finally speaks.

"You okay?" His voice is low, careful, like he already knows the answer but feels the need to ask anyway.

It’s a weird one. I haven't heard from Chris since everything went down. He’s been distant, not in a hostile way, but in a way that tells me he didn’t know how to approach me. And now, here he is, finally asking.

I glance at him briefly, weighing my response before settling on, "I will be."

Chris nods slowly, seeming to accept that answer. “Can we talk later? About everything?”

I exhale softly, not quite ready to dive into whatever everything entails but knowing that it’s overdue. I don’t think there was any malice from him in this situation. And I’m not mad at him at all. I would like to know what his thought process was throughout all this. And maybe, he's actually done me a favour. “Yeah,” I agree. “Later.”

That seems to be enough for now. The group keeps moving, making our way toward the restaurant. When we arrive, the guys step inside ahead of us, but I notice them mumbling amongst themselves, their voices low and almost hurried, like there’s some sort of confusion.

Something about their body language makes me pause, and I follow their line of sight before realizing exactly what has caught their attention.

Rachel and Christina.

They’re seated at a table near the back. Five empty seats are pulled out beside them, waiting.

A sharp, sinking feeling settles in my stomach.

Of course. 

Of course they’re here. It was already bad enough having to see Matt, to sit across from him and pretend I wasn’t still breaking, but now, this?

I don’t even have to look at him to know. I can feel his presence, his hesitation. I wonder if he knew they’d be here. If this was always the plan.

My fingers tighten slightly around the strap of my purse as I will myself to keep my composure.

This night just got a whole lot harder.

Nick squeezes my hand gently, a silent reassurance that he’s here, that I’m not alone in this. “What do you wanna do?” he asks quietly, his voice just for me.

I take a breath, steadying myself. “Sit at the other end” I say, keeping my voice even, refusing to let this shake me any more than it already has.

Without hesitation, Nick follows my lead, guiding me toward the farthest end of the table, away from Rachel and Christina. I slide into my seat, positioning myself as far as I can from them, while Nick sits beside me, his presence like a barrier between me and whatever mess is sitting across the table.

Matt and Chris take their seats. Chris next to Rachel and Matt next to Christina. Whether it was planned or just happened naturally, I don’t know, but it doesn’t make a difference, the damage is done. 

The tension is suffocating. You could cut it with a knife. I never thought at the start of this trip I’d be sitting diagonally across from Matt and another girl.

Nobody speaks at first. There’s an awkward shuffle of menus being picked up, the quiet clinking of silverware as waiters move around us, but no real conversation. 

I keep my gaze down, focused on the menu even though I’m not really reading it. My appetite had started to come back earlier, but now? Completely gone again.

Nick, ever my lifeline in this nightmare, leans in slightly constantly making sure I’m okay. “You good?” he murmurs, his voice low enough that only I can hear.

I nod once, though I’m not sure if I mean it. “Yeah” I lie. “I’m fine.”

But we both know I’m not.

I try to keep my focus on the menu, pretending to be absorbed in the options, but it’s impossible to ignore Christina. She is relentless, shifting in her seat so she’s angled toward Matt, her body language screaming interest. The way she leans forward, the way her fingers reach out casually to graze his forearm as she talks, it’s all so intentional.

“Oh my God, Matt, you look so good tonight” she purrs, tilting her head as she studies him. “Did you do something different? Your hair? A new cologne?”

Matt barely reacts, only offering a tight lipped smile as he glances at her briefly. “Uh, no. Same as always.” he replies, going back to his menu.

But Christina isn’t deterred. She lets out a soft, exaggerated sigh. “God, I can’t believe we’re all in Hawaii together. It feels like such a movie moment, don’t you think?” She flicks her gaze up at him through her lashes. “Like, if this was a movie, we’d be the main characters.”

Matt huffs a small laugh through his nose, shaking his head. “Yeah, I don’t know about that, don’t really take myself as the main character type of guy.” His tone is light, but there’s no real engagement. He’s keeping it neutral.

She’s not giving up, though. She leans in again, dropping her voice to something more sultry. “You know, I had so much fun the other night” she murmurs, just loud enough for me to hear. 

My stomach twists, but I don’t react. I refuse to. Instead, I lift my glass of water to my lips, taking a slow sip as if I’m completely unbothered.

Nick shifts beside me, subtly kicking my foot under the table as if to say don’t react. I know he’s watching me closely, waiting for me to crack, but I won’t.

Chris, who’s been silent this whole time, suddenly clears his throat. “Christina, didn’t you say this was your first time in Hawaii?”

It’s so obviously a distraction tactic, and I can’t tell if he’s doing it to get her off Matt’s back or because he knows I’m sitting here, silently absorbing every word.

Christina finally tears her gaze away from Matt and glances at Chris. “Oh, yeah it is.” she says, waving a hand dismissively. 

Matt doesn’t say anything. He just flips a page of the menu, like none of this is even phasing him. Meanwhile, Rachel is watching me like a hawk, waiting for a reaction.

I meet her eyes for a split second and give her the most nonchalant look I can muster before turning to Nick. “What are you getting?” I ask, my voice steady.

Nick glances at me, eyes scanning my face for any sign of weakness before answering, “Probably the carbonara.”

I nod. “Good choice.”

Nate, ever the sweetheart, seems to pick up on everything, the way I’m keeping my head down, the way Nick keeps a protective presence beside me, the way Matt and Christina’s exchange is unfolding just within earshot. Without missing a beat, he slides into conversation with me and Nick as he’s seated opposite us, as if we’re in our own little bubble, separate from the tension on the other side of the table.

“So, what’s the plan for tomorrow?” Nate asks, leaning forward with a smile. “I was thinking of heading down to the beach early. Maybe rent a jet ski or something. You two in?”

Nick catches on immediately, grateful for the shift in attention. “Absolutely. I’d love to see you wipe out within the first five minutes.”

Nate pretends to be offended, placing a hand over his chest. “Excuse you, I’m actually a professional. Very experienced!”

I can’t help but smile at their antics, grateful for the distraction. “Professional, huh? I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Nate smirks. “Oh, you will. And when I leave you both in my wake, don’t come crying to me.”

Nick scoffs. “Yeah, okay, Nate. Keep dreaming.”

As we laugh, it’s almost easy to forget the rest of the table exists, almost. Because out of the corner of my eye, I see Chris sitting stiffly, glancing between me and the rest of the group, like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He hasn’t even touched his menu. He just sits there, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, like he’s caught in the middle of something he never signed up for.

At one point, he opens his mouth like he wants to say something,to me, but then he hesitates, pressing his lips together instead. His fingers drum restlessly against the table. It’s almost like he wants to acknowledge the elephant in the room, but he can’t.

I keep my focus on Nate and Nick as everyone gives their orders, letting them carry me through the moment, keeping me occupied. And for now, that’s all I need.

The food arrives shortly after, and I focus on my meal, keeping my eyes down, keeping my composure. If I just get through dinner, I’ll be fine.

But Christina doesn’t make it easy.

She just doesn’t stop, her voice carrying just loud enough to ensure I hear every flirtatious remark, every exaggerated giggle. It’s all so obvious, the way she leans toward Matt, twirling a piece of her hair around her finger. 

“Oh my God, Matt, you’re so funny” she forces, brushing her fingers against his wrist like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He hasn’t even said anything that funny.

“We should totally do something after this!” Christina continues, tilting her head. “Maybe check out that tiki bar? It would be so fun.”

Matt doesn’t commit. “Maybe.”

Maybe.

That single word twists something in my stomach, because it means he hasn’t outright said no. And I know it shouldn’t matter but that doesn’t stop the sting.

As everyone starts discussing where to go next, I stay quiet, already knowing my answer. The only place I want to be right now is home. I only ever agreed to dinner, nothing more. The idea of trailing behind while Christina continues her performance, while Matt does whatever he’s doing, is unbearable.

I lean toward Nick and quietly tell him, “I’m heading back.”

He nods in understanding, not even questioning it. “That’s fair. I’ll go for one drink, then I’ll be home after. We can debrief, I’ll try to get more info.”

I manage a small smile at that. If there’s anyone I can count on to feed me the details later, it’s Nick.

We both stand, and I feel Chris’s eyes on me, but I don’t meet them. If he wants to talk, he can find me when I’m not on the verge of either snapping or crying.

Nick walks me to the taxi rank just outside the restaurant, following behind me as we weave through the crowd. I should want to stay out, to drown out my thoughts with drinks and distractions, but all I want is to be alone.

“You sure you’re okay going back on your own?” Nick asks as we wait for a taxi to pull up.

I let out a breath. “Yeah. Just over it.”

Nick doesn’t push. “I’ll text you when I’m on my way back.”

A taxi pulls up, and he opens the door for me. Before I get in, he squeezes my hand briefly, just a reminder that I’m not alone in all of this.

I nod my thanks, slide into the backseat, and as the car pulls away, I finally let out a breath I didn’t even realize I was holding.

I pull up to the villa and thank the taxi man, paying him for the fare. I step out of the car and as I do one pulls up directly behind me.

I freeze for a second, my stomach tightening as I watch Matt step out of the taxi behind me. Of all people, of all times, it has to be him.

I don’t wait for him to say anything. I turn toward the villa, walking quickly up the steps, my heels clicking against the cobblestone pavement. I take my keys out of my bag, unlocking the front door.

I can hear him behind me, his footsteps unhurried, like he’s debating whether to call my name.

“Wait” Matt’s voice finally breaks the silence, and I feel his presence closer than I expected. “Can we talk?”

I let out a slow breath before turning to face him, the front door slightly open behind me. His eyes search mine, like he’s trying to figure out where my head is at.

“Talk about what, Matt?” My voice is steady, but I can feel the exhaustion creeping in.

He rubs the back of his neck, looking almost.. nervous? “About this. About everything.”

“I’m not too sure what there is to talk about” I say, my voice surprisingly steady. “I’ve seen it all. I saw Christina in your bed. I saw how she was with you tonight.”

Matt’s face falls, and he opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, but I don’t let him.

“And now, what? You think you can stand here and make some sorry excuse for your actions? Do you even realize how disrespectful that is?” My voice rises slightly, frustration taking over. “You can’t just act like nothing happened, Matt. You don’t get to do that.”

He sighs, rubbing his hand over his jaw. "I never wanted to hurt you."

"Well, it’s a bit too late for that now.” I say, my voice sharp. 

"I’m sorry." he mutters.

I let out a short laugh. "Yeah. So am I.”

Matt stands there looking at me, almost confused.

“I'm sorry I let you play with me for so long. Sorry I let you in, that I actually believed there was something real between us. But it’s clear now, isn’t it? Whatever tension was there, it was only ever sexual for you."

Matt steps forward, opening his mouth to protest, but I cut him off.

"So what now?" I snap, my voice shaking with anger. "What’s your next move? You feel bad for how you’ve treated me, so you’ll do what? Buy me flowers? But never actually give them to me? Did you ever track down Christina’s ex to get her locket back too? Or was that just a special little stunt for me?"

I let out a short, humorless laugh, shaking my head. "And don’t you dare try to tell me you haven’t been with anyone else since that night in the house. Christina basically spelled out what happened in Vegas to me at the club.”

Then realisation hits me. “It makes sense to me now, the real reason you customised your jacket that way. You didn’t do it because you felt something for me. You did it so if the topic of her in Vegas came up, you had something to sway me from believing it, so you could keep stringing me along.”

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Can you please listen to me? I didn’t even know they were coming out here” he says quickly, almost desperately, like that one fact will make any of this better.

I scoff, shaking my head. “That doesn’t change anything.”

“It changes a lot” he insists, stepping forward. “Chris was the one that brought them out here, he has a thing with Rachel and probably just-”

"-wants to smash?" I finish for him, my voice sharp. 

"Yeah, Matt, I know. Just like you said before, that Chris only gave me a job because he wants to smash?" I tilt my head, watching as realization dawns on his face. "Yeah. I heard you when you said that."

Matt shifts uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck. "I never meant that" he mutters. "I swear, I didn’t mean it like that."

"Oh really?" I fold my arms, my patience running dangerously thin. "How exactly did you mean it then, Matt?" My voice is sharp, no bullshit. "Because it sounded a lot like you were trying to discredit any of the work I do."

Matt exhales sharply, looking away. "It wasn’t about that, okay?" His voice is tight, like he’s struggling to find the right words. "Maybe I was jealous, maybe I was pissed off at the whole situation, maybe I just-" He stops himself, his jaw locking.

"Maybe you just what?" I push, my voice rising slightly.

His silence is louder than anything he could say. And then, it hits me.

I let out a hollow laugh, shaking my head. "Oh my god. It was projection, wasn’t it?" I take a step closer, my words like a slap to the face. "You said Chris only gave me a job because he wanted to smash, but really, that was just you speaking for yourself. You only ever kept me around because that’s what you wanted."

I take a breath, my heart pounding. "And congratulations, Matt. You got it."

Matt’s face falls completely.

"And then you got it from her too, only a matter of hours later." My voice is laced with disgust, and I see the tears welling in Matt's eyes, but I don’t stop. "It’s obvious to me now, you never had feelings for me. You never cared."

I take another step closer, my chest rising and falling with the force of everything I’ve kept inside. "I know you saw me leave the club that night. I know you saw me walk out. And not once did you check on me. Not once did you care enough to see if I was okay. It was like, out of sight, out of mind. I disappeared, and you moved on like I was nothing."

I shake my head, a bitter laugh escaping me. "And then you brought her back here, to the same villa I’m staying in, to rub it in my fucking face? Like this is some sick joke to you?" And then to keep doing it, over and over again, like it wasn’t enough to break me once?" My voice shakes, but not from weakness, from the sheer weight of the betrayal burning inside me. "You didn’t just move on, Matt. You made sure I saw it. You made sure I felt it. Like twisting the knife wasn’t enough, you had to keep pushing it in, again and again."

I shake my head, my breathing uneven. "And for what? To prove a point? To get back at me for something you thought I’ve done? Or was it just fun for you? To watch me fall apart while you played pretend with her?"

Matt’s mouth opens like he wants to say something, to defend himself, but I cut him off before he can even try. "No. Don’t. Because there’s nothing you can say that will make this okay. Nothing you can do that will undo the fact that you chose this. You chose to hurt me. And I’m fucking done." I spit, my chest rising and falling with the force of everything I’ve held back. 

"Because all you’ve ever done is choose to hurt me. Over and over again, like it’s second nature to you." I stop for a second to catch my breath, realising how pointless this all is. "I don’t even understand why you’re standing in front of me right now, when what you want is down at the bar with everyone else. Stop bothering me, and go back down there and get it."

Matt looks at me, his jaw tight, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, like he wants to argue. Like he wants to fight his case. But he doesn’t get to, not now. Not after everything.

"In fact" I breathe out a bitter laugh, shaking my head, "don’t ever think of speaking to me again. Because it’s clear now, Matt, we were always better off when we didn’t speak. When we just ignored each other. Maybe that’s what we should’ve stayed."

My heart is hammering in my chest, my entire body shaking from the adrenaline coursing through me. 

I turn around and storm into the villa, slamming the door so hard behind me that the walls seem to shake with the force of it. But he doesn’t follow. He doesn’t even try. Probably heading straight back down to the bar to get exactly what he wants. What he’s always wanted.

My blood is boiling as I march into my room, every step fueled by the sheer rage burning inside me. I feel like a bull, seeing red, ready to destroy everything in my path. But I don’t, because I don’t have time to waste on any of this anymore.

I grab my phone with trembling fingers, my vision blurring from unshed tears as I unlock it.

 I can’t stay here.

I refuse.

I pull up the American Airlines website, my breathing heavy, my chest rising and falling too fast. I don’t even hesitate as I search for the first available flight back home. 

The sooner, the better.

And when I find one, first thing tomorrow morning, I don’t even think twice. I press confirm before I can second guess myself, before the pain can catch up with me.

I’m leaving.

I’m done.

a/n : OOOOF. thats gotta sting.

taglist : @mattybearnard @sturn-33 @ncm9696 @yourfavsturniologirl @crazy4jewel @sodakid1234 @stupendoustreewinner @lovealwayssturniolos @matthewsturniolosss @m4ttsmunch @loveexxx @ilusa @starkeyszn @wonnieeluvvr @dylnblue @valxrieq @maggot3647 @cigarettecemetary @ribread03 @chrisstvrns @bandasaruswrx @noplaceissafeanymore @amexiass @witchofthehour @mattssgf @jetaimevous @v33angel  @ivysturnss @urmom69lol @ashlishes @watercolorskyy @sturnioloshottiekay @amelia-sturniolo3 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @pvssychicken @alizestvrnss @chrisstxrnsaxe @sophand4n4 @vickytaa @marrykisskilled @bxtchboy69 @yourfavsturniologirl @julisturn @sydneyylainn @sophia-77n @trevorsgodmother @sturnslutz @yourmother29 @girl24cherry @astronea @pinkdyit

[justcat-judging]

₊ ⊹ 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞 𝐎𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞! ⊹ ₊

˚ʚY/N told them her ideal type which was the complete opposite of them. ɞ˚

˚ʚKaiser Micheal x Reader, Ness Alexis x Reader(seperate)ɞ˚

˚ʚpt.5, pt.1, pt.2, pt.3, pt.4ɞ˚

---

₊ ⊹ 𝐊𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐥 ⊹ ₊

You and Kaiser are hanging out after practice, his usual self-absorbed chatter filling the air while you scroll through your phone.

“So, what’s your type?” he asks, that smug grin creeping across his face.

You glance up, pretending to think. “Hmm… I like guys who are quiet, humble, and down-to-earth. Maybe a little shy. Definitely not someone who’s always showing off.”

Kaiser freezes. His smirk falters for just a moment before he leans in, eyes narrowing. “You’re really gonna sit here and tell me that’s your type?”

You nod, keeping a straight face. “Yeah, I think it’s cute. Totally my type.”

Kaiser lets out a low, incredulous chuckle. “That’s funny. You’ve been hanging out with me for weeks now, and I’m anything but humble. You’re full of shit.”

You raise an eyebrow. “What can I say? I like a challenge.”

He laughs, loud and confident. “A challenge? Babe, you don’t have to look any further. I’m exactly what you want. I’m the best, and you know it.”

You roll your eyes, trying to keep the grin from spreading. “Sure, whatever you say, Kaiser.”

His smile widens, fully aware of what he’s doing. “Admit it. You’re hooked on me. I’m exactly your type—you just don’t want to say it yet. But I’m already in your head.”

You snicker, finally giving in. “Fine. You’re right. Michael Kaiser is my type.”

He leans back, arms crossed, looking utterly victorious. “I knew it. You don’t need to hide it. No one can resist me.”

₊ ⊹ 𝐍𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐬 ⊹ ₊

You and Ness are sitting on the benches after practice, him leaning a little too close as usual. His eyes are practically glued to you, that dreamy smile never wavering.

“So… what’s your type?” he asks, tilting his head like a puppy waiting for praise.

You pretend to think, tapping your chin. “Hmm… I guess I like guys who are really serious, kind of intimidating. The quiet, brooding type who doesn’t let anyone get too close.”

For a moment, Ness just stares at you, blinking. Then, to your surprise, his cheeks turn red, and a tiny, breathy laugh escapes him.

“Oh,” he mutters, almost giddy. “So… someone who would completely ignore you? Push you away? Maybe even be a little mean?”

You narrow your eyes. “Uh… yeah?”

His smile widens. “That sounds kinda nice.”

You blink. “What.”

Ness sighs, pressing a hand to his chest dramatically. “Imagine… the person you love looking down on you, refusing to acknowledge you, barely giving you the time of day… ahh, my heart aches just thinking about it.”

You gape at him. “Ness. That’s not—”

He suddenly grabs your hand, squeezing it tight. “But I love a challenge! If that’s what you want, I’ll just have to make you fall for me harder!”

You groan, finally laughing. “Ness, I was messing with you! That’s not my type at all!”

He blinks. “Oh?” Then, without missing a beat, he leans in closer, voice dropping. “So… does that mean you do like me?”

You roll your eyes. “Maybe I’d like you more if you weren’t so weird.”

Ness only grins, unbothered. “Ohh, so you do like me a little! That’s enough for me!”

You sigh, shaking your head. There’s no winning against this guy.

(Guys I think this is enough to feed you all.. I think I shall end this already)

[l-starsz]

could you please write some smut where r and billie are coming home from a party theyre both drunk and end up fucking in the pool late at night (the pool has red led lights) (add strap please🙏🏼) r has been a brat all night so billie is like kinda mean and degrades her

THANK YOU

a/n: IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK AGES FOR ME TO WRITE BUT I HOPE THIS IS GOOD🫶

as i rushed to get ready, billie was laying on our bed. she was completely chilled out whilst i was stressing about how i was going to make us late. billie had previously been rushing me, since we had to be there soon in order to not be too late. she eventually resorted to waiting in bed whilst scrolling through her phone, glancing over to me every so often.

"cmon angelll, are you nearly ready?" she practically whined.

"i'm about to be ready bil, promise." i giggled, "can you help me with my eyeliner please?"

"of course, pretty girl." she smiled, getting up from the bed and walking towards me.

i held the eyeliner pencil out towards her, which she soon enough took. she was about to start when she gave me a questioning look, and i knew exactly what she was thinking.

"sit on my lap." i whispered, gently holding her hips and pulling her closer to me.

she didn't complain, and let me practically pull her onto me, before taking the lid off my eyeliner and getting closer to my face. she was being so gentle, careful not to hurt me or poke me with it. after a few short minutes, she was completely finished.

i looked in the mirror with a smile on my face.

"perfect, thank you, baby." i thanked her, then placed a gentle kiss on her lips, my lipstick and lipgloss transferring slightly onto her lips.

i pulled her further into my arms for a minute or so, before she whispered to me that we needed to leave. we were both finally ready, and it was looking like we would still be pretty on time, so we left as quick as we could.

hours passed, we stuck together the whole time we were there, but were both a little drunk. we'd definitely had too much to drink. we were practically all over eachother, whilst the music echoed loud, making us even more touchy.

"can we go somewhere quieter, love?" i heard her whisper into my ear as my back pressed against her chest.

"hmmm, i don't know, i'm quite happy staying here." i smirked.

i'd been planning to tease her, and be bratty. i needed to see how she'd react. and i was hoping she'd maybe punish me too.

the whole night i had been talking back to her, trying to get a reaction from her. but she didn't react. all i got was her rolling her eyes at my words, or her grip tightening on my skin. she didn't push me, but i could tell that she was getting impatient. the alcohol running through us wasn't helping either.

obviously i was desperate for her, but i needed to keep my act up. i needed to make sure i got some sort of reaction from her.

it was only a matter of time before one of our friends came over to us, offering to drop us off on their way home. we hesitated at first, wanting to stay longer and continue our fun, but when our friend brought up how drunk we were, we accepted.

it didn't take long to get home at all, since we lived nearby. we thanked our friend as we got out, letting out drunken giggles as we walked up the driveway towards the front door.

billie had the keys, and she fiddled with them for a bit, trying to find the right one whilst almost dropping them on the floor in the process. this just made us laugh more, and when she finally managed to open the door, get us both inside, and then lock the door behind her, we stumbled straight upstairs.

i flopped onto the bed, whilst billie looked for comfier clothes. i was waiting for her, when i got an idea. a small smirk appeared on my face when i opened my mouth to speak.

"bils? can we go in the pool?"

she turned around with a smile, but then her eyebrows furrowed.

"we don't have anything to wear.. i have no idea where our swimming costumes are."

i groaned and threw my head back out of frustration. i wanted to tease her more. i knew exactly what i wanted to wear to push her over the edge, but obviously that wasnt happening. however, another brilliant idea popped into my mind as i was trying to think of solutions. why did neither of us think of it before?

"we can always go in naked?" i suggested, rolling onto my side and reaching my hands out for her to come towards me.

as my hands landed on her waist, i tugged at her clothes. i was getting desperate for her. i was supposed to be bratty, and instead i was needy. i needed to change my attitude. i had time to be needy later. at least i hoped.

she moved away from my slightly, and pulled me up onto my feet, attempting to pull my clothes off. i shook my head and moved back.

"hmm i think i changed my mind.. it'll be more fun with our clothes on."

i knew that she wanted my clothes off. as much as she loved my outfit, which consisted of the shortest skirt i could find, it only just covered me up, but one wrong movement and everyone would've seen my underwear, which billie had picked out for me before we left. i was also wearing a tight shirt, and no bra, so it was safe to say billie was worked up. and it didn't help that i was talking back, and ignoring her requests. the alcohol made both of us needy, but my defiance made her want need to punish me, and fuck some sense into me somehow.

her tongue poked the inside of her cheek, and i could tell she was getting frustrated.

"you know what? go wait by the pool i'll be out in a few minutes."

i was confused, but i had to keep my act up.

i crossed my arms and shook my head, walking back over to sit on the edge of the bed. my hips swayed as i walked, making sure she saw.

a sigh left her mouth, before she grabbed something from the wardrbe, and walked downstairs without me. i decided it would make her more mad if i didn't follow at all, so i stayed put, looking for my phone which i must've misplaced. i was always more forgetful when i was drunk.

i waited for about five minutes, before realising she wasn't coming back. she was waiting downstairs and wasn't coming to get me. she knew exactly what i was up to. she'd known all night.

i groaned, then headed downstairs, straight outside to where our pool was. there were two towels folded and waiting on one of the chairs by the pool, and i took notice of them before my eyes drifted over to billie, who was completely naked in the pool.

i could only make out her tits under the water, and my eyes were glued to them.

"coming in, angel?" i saw her smirk, the red lights surrounding the pool making it slightly more difficult for me to see her.

"i.. yeah." i managed to stutter out.

i walked over to the side of the pool which was closest to her, before removing my clothes as slow as i possibly could. i first started with my shirt, taking my time to lift it up so that it sat just under my boobs. i pushed the waistband of my skirt down, exposing my underwear slightly, but not quite enough for her liking.

i could see on her face that she was mad, but she was trying her best to hide it. i could see right through her though. i eventually took my top off, letting it fall to the floor.

my skirt slowly followed, and all that was left was my underwear. i thought about leaving them on, but i knew that as much as it would tease billie and test her limits, it would be so uncomfortable.

i slid them off my body, being careful not to lose my balance as i wandered over to the edge of the pool. we were obviously still pretty drunk, so i knew that the second i was next to her, we would be all over eachother once again.

i made my way over to the steps, slowly getting closer to her, whilst she stayed exactly where she was. i made sure to take my time, but as soon as i was facing her, her hands attached to my waist like a magnet, pulling me close.

"you think you're smart teasing me, hm? being a brat? such a needy fucking slut for my attention."

her words were slightly slurred as the gap almost closed between us. i couldn't hold back any longer. i practically pounced on her, my lips finding hers straight away.

she kissed back slightly, before pulling away. she lifted me into her arms, my legs wrapped around her waist, but i felt something. had she kept her underwear on? i was about to ask, when something was slammed inside me. and it would only be one thing.

she had her strap attached around her waist. the one she knew was just that tiny bit too big for me, that made me overstimulated in a matter of seconds. a moan echoed from my mouth, straight down her ear.

she wasted no time speeding her movements to pleasure me, but not for long. i knew it wasn't going to be so simple. i didn't know what she had in mind, but i just needed her. her grip on my waist was enough to leave marks, and her speech was slurred as she thrusted into me. it was a good job i was so wet, otherwise it would've made things more difficult.

"such a desperate, needy slut, isn't that right, love?"

my cries and moans grew so much louder upon hearing her words, my body limp in her arms as i was so close to finishing.

"cmon, need you to answer me. can't just ignore me, baby. that's not nice, is it?"

my moans sounded like sobs as i tried so hard to get the words out for her. i was hoping that our neighbours were sleeping, because i was definitely loud enough for anyone to hear me.

"i'm not even going to think about letting you cum if you don't answer me."

her speech was slurred from the alcohol, but also muffled as her lips pressed against my neck. i felt her sucking marks over me, whilst one of her hands reached my clit, adding onto the other sensations, bringing me right to the edge.

part of me wanted to say it, so that she'd let me cum. but the other part of me was more desperate to continue being bratty.

i threw my head back and held onto her shoulders as tight as i could.

"going to carry on being a brat? suit yourself.." she mumbled with a smirk, before pulling out with no warning.

"no!! no pleaseee. billie, baby, please i'll do anything!! i was going to say it i swear!" i cried out, pulling myself closer to her and hiding my face in her neck.

"nuh-uh. you wanted to be bratty and tease me all night? this is what you get. maybe if you can prove to me that you can be a good girl then i'll let you cum."

her voice was calm. much calmer than mine. i was a whiny mess, trying to convince her to touch me more, to make me cum, but she wasn't having any of it. not until i proved it to her.

"how?! i'll do anything bil!"

"let me fuck you until i finish, yeah? then you can cum. you're gonna take it, and be good for me, okay?"

"yes!! of course! i'll be good for you."

the strap broke through my tight walls once again, the familiar feeling so perfect yet overwhelming at the same time. her thrusts met her previous pace immeiately, making us both feel good. i squeezed my eyes shut tight, letting her basically use me for her own pleasure, and waiting for her to let me finish. the water slightly splashed and made waves around us from our movements.

it felt like ages, but definitely wasn't long before her moans increased in pitch. she sounded so beautiful, it was getting difficult for me to hold onto my orgasm, hearing her whines and feeling her inside me was making the pleasure build up inside me quicker.

as soon as her moans was louder, and more high pitched, i knew she was ready to cum. my own moans mixed with hers, and i let out breathy whines into her ear.

"please, bil. cum for me. i want to cum for you, please. you sound so pretty. so perfect. my beautiful girl." my voice was almost a whisper, but at the same time it sounded so powerful as it echoed through her mind.

that was all it took for billie to cum, the friction of the strap rubbing against her clit helped, but my words threw her over the edge. her voice was so breathy that i almost didn't hear her speak. i was clenching around the strap whilst my nails dug into her shoulder, sure to leave scratches or bruises for her to wake up to in the morning.

"you can cum for me baby! fuck! le- let go for me."

that was the only thing i needed to hear. i'd never came so hard in my life, not bothering to even attempt to keep myself quiet. i didn't care who heard, or who i woke up. we both needed this, and that was all that mattered in our minds in that moment.

as we both slowly came down from our highs, my moans turned into sobs once i started to get overstimulated. she stopped her movements, making sure to hold me closer and pepper my exposed skin in kisses.

i did the same to her, having no intentions of moving away from her yet. but i felt the strap being slowly pulled out of me. her hands ran along my back to soothe me whilst she pulled completely out, somehow managing to take the strap off and throw it on the side of the pool. we stayed where we were, just holding eachother for a while until i was falling asleep, and of course billie noticed when my body slowly grew heavier and slumped against her.

"cmon angel. lets get cleaned up. i've got you." i heard her whisper, before placing a little kiss to my head.

we were soon upstairs in the bathroom, a towel draped over each of our bodies, and while i clung onto her still naked body, she started running a nice warm bath for the both of us. i so badly wanted to help her, and take care of her just like she was doing for me, but i was almost asleep. i was exhausted. still drunk. and fucked out. although billie was also still drunk, and tired, and fucked out, she could handle it better than me. i could barely keep my eyes open.

she added some lavender scented bubble bath, which made my eyes feel even heavier as the smell filled the room. she was still somehow holding me whilst making sure everything was perfect for us. she laid out some clean clothes, fresh towels, and skincare for afterwards.

we finally got in the nice hot bubble bath, our muscles relaxing and tiredness practically taking over us. although i was struggling to keep my eyes open, i insisted that billie laid against me. i wanted her to feel as though i was taking care of her as much as she was taking care of me. so, whilst we were in the bath, i helped her clean her body, wash her hair, and made sure she was relaxed and calm.

she did the same for me, and we spent time letting the water warm us up and pull us further into our sleepiness. we eventually got out, wrapped in the fluffy towels, and fighting to stay awake. we rushed to do skincare, and put our pyjamas on, before we were in bed. sleepy and slurred i love yous, and goodnights, came from us before we were fast asleep.

neither of us woke up once in the night, we were completely worn out, and felt as though all we needed was eachother. it took us a while to actually get out of bed when we woke up, our heads were hurting and the sun seemed way too bright shining through the blinds. when i finally decided to get up, i glanced out of the window after getting dressed. something caught my eye laying on the side of the pool. oh.

[namgyunation]

Do you see Nam-gyu introducing his s/o to drugs or do you think he’d be the type to shield you from that type of thing?

cw; talking about drug usage and unhealthy stuff here

mmmm based off of my interpretation of him, i don’t think he’d really try to “shield” you. just doesn't seem like something he'd do

i also don't think he would gaf if you knew about his substance abuse. you're his s/o. if you're with him, he's prob thinking "this is what you signed up for when you got with me." i could see him hiding it from his family, but not you.

with a job like his, it'd be pretty hard to hide, anyways. if anything, i think he'd try to at least hide or be vague about the intensity of the drugs he takes and just how addicted / dependent he is on them. he'd probably try to convince you that it's just something casual that he does or brush you off if you display any concern

i could see him wanting to keep the details of his drug usage off your radar, but not because he’s like. concerned that he’ll be a bad influence or rub off on you, or anything. nor would he do it with the intent of trying to protect you or keep you "innocent" / drug-free.

i don’t think he’d enthusiastically be like “here baby, snort this!!! take this pill!!! ❤️” out of nowhere or straight from the jump when he enters a relationship with his s/o. he also doesn’t seem like the type of dude to go out of his way to share what drugs he’s taking or even just his emotions in general. he seems like he’d be very closed off and be more than happy to keep that part of his life from you if you never asked / pushed the issue.

i think he’d just want to avoid his s/o giving him a hard time: asking too many questions about what he’s doing, how it’s affecting him, his health, their finances, and their relationship, and/or trying to get him to stop. he just wants to do what he wants while still keeping you in his life. he doesn't want you to complicate or overdramaticize things with your concern. he knows what hes doing and can handle himself.

but i think if you expressed any sort of interest or vague curiosity, he might initially be shocked, find it amusing, and be surprisingly interested in the idea of introducing you to something, jokingly offer to get you stuff, though he genuinely would if you just straight up asked him to do so.

i think he’d find it interesting / somewhat exciting to see your first-time reactions to things and would find himself enjoying it more than he expected to somewhere along the way, though i don’t think he’d force it on you. if you wanted to stop, he would be cool with that and drop it immediately. it doesn't matter to him whether or not you do drugs or are on the same page as him. he's doing his thing, and you're doing yours. he wouldn't mind and would be just as open to it if you were to ask him about it again later down the line, though.

if you asked him to give you something and lead you through it, i think he’d derive some sort of enjoyment from knowing a lot about something that you don’t, being your sole source of information on the topic, and knowing he's the first and only person that you experience those types of things with.

i could see him being an obnoxious ass trip-sitter just because he thinks it's funny / even getting some sort of ego because of it.

eg. if you start off with weed, he’s laughing at you for coughing, not knowing how to inhale right, and/or making a stupid, exaggerated face when you exhale. when you overestimate your tolerance and get high as fuck, he’s purposefully putting stupid shit on the tv to gauge your reaction (maybe some dumb children’s cartoon or compilation of idk. plants growing timelapse), laughing at you when you're super focused on it (not mean, just teasing / amused), and maybe he takes a few selfies with you to tease you about it later. he would smoke with you, too, but purposefully stays mostly sober so he can take care of you. also, his tolerance is naturally way higher than yours, and i think he'd find it funny if you got high extremely quick.

he says shit like "oh, i invited your entire family and also a hundred of your friends over to the apartment, and they're outside right now. i hope you don't mind" just to get a funny reaction out of you.

he's not entirely mean, though, and despite having his fun, he still wanted to make sure that your experience was good and comfortable from the get-go. he thought ahead and set out snacks and drinks for when you inevitably got the munchies / dry mouth. he has a line up of funny things to watch and a blanket set out to make sure that you're fine. he doesn't leave you alone. even though it's just weed, he doesn't want to scare you.

he feels good and pats himself on the back for taking care of you. he probably enjoys knowing that in that moment, you're completely depending on him and looking at him like he has all the knowledge in the world. he deeply enjoys the fact that you trust him enough to rely on him and trust that you'll come out of the experience okay, because he's there.

nowww, getting on to other drugs outside of weed, i could see him being more serious about it and wanting to make sure that you're okay. he's open and more than happy to provide you with the things you're showing interest in. sharing his knowledge that's completely foreign and new to you and bringing you into 'his world' is satisfying for him, but once it starts to get a little more dodgy / serious, he's very firm on asking you if you're sure and asks a lot more questions. "what are you feeling?" "what do you see?" "do you need water?" "tell me what's going on." etc. he doesn't completely coddle you, but he's not going to leave you alone, either.

also, i was obsessed with breaking bad in middle school LMAO, so it's leaking into this post... sometimes when i think about nam-gyu, i can't help but think about jessie pinkman. there's a particular scene in the show where jessie's gf, jane, introduces him to heroin for the first time, and i think i could see nam-gyu being like jane in this particular scene, with jessie being his s/o that he's introducing shit to.

over time, if you continued to express clear, enthusiastic interest and prove to him that you could handle it, i think that's when he'd finally let himself relax and do drugs with you, rather than staying sober to monitor you. i think he'd grow accustomed to doing things with you, almost falling into a routine or having it be "your thing." he'd sneak things from work that other people gave to him or things that he was supposed to be giving to VIPs and bring it home to share with you. he'd find that getting high with you specifically was more fun for him than when he did it with others.

ending it off with something somewhat lighthearted: after a while, nam-gyu realizes that he's actually kind of excited to have a long-term buddy to get high with. he would start suggesting that the two of you smoke a joint and then go to the aquarium, art gallery, the zoo, etc. if he got something new, he wouldn't let himself try it and wait until he got home to be with you.

tldr; i don't think he'd shield you, but he wouldn't be super open about it either if you didn't ask or push him to talk about it. if you asked him to introduce you to it, he'd find himself oddly excited by the idea. he'd do it but would make sure to keep you comfortable and ask you over and over if you were sure once you got to the more serious shit. he wouldn't push it, either, in the case that you wanted to stop or were uncertain.

[angellayercake]

Banchetto: Dolce

Papa Emeritus III x Reader | NSFW

AO3 | Fromaggi e Frutta | Masterpost

Thank you all a million times for your patience with me!! There are only two chapters left now and I really hope that all your interest and support will be rewarded but that is for later. This chapter is dedicated to @dolceterzo it should have been your birthday present but I still wanted to thank you for all your support and loveliness. You are so patient and kind with me even when I probably don't deserve it so I really hope you enjoy 💜💜💜

The dough needs to rest to get the best results so you prepare ahead of time. The base is typical flour, sugar, butter and egg yolks but the flavour comes in here also, adding cinnamon, cocoa, a pinch of salt and a sweet wine. The butter mixes into the combined dry ingredients breaking up every lump into a fine crumb. The eggs and marsala combine to form a soft dough which after kneading must be rested and refrigerated.

• • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

‘Fuck me.’ Although barely a whisper it comes out of you unbidden and you both freeze staring at each other in shock. The world continues turning, the television continues blaring the day time show you had been pretending to watch, the blankets change from comfortably warm to uncomfortably stifling. His stillness is almost unnerving as he tries to process what you just said. 

It may have not been what you were planning to say when you opened your mouth a moment ago but your demand wasn’t entirely unprompted. The morning had been unseasonably cold, something Terzo had taken as a personal offence, by the time you had reached his quarters the fire was roaring and he was sequestered under, in your opinion, an excessive amount of blankets. After bringing him his breakfast he had insisted you joined him. 

‘I can't feel my toes, cara mia! What if my fingers are next?’ He cries mournfully, wiggling his fingers under the blanket. You wait him out, holding his plate and coffee mug out patiently until he relents with a dramatic huff. He wriggles until his arms are free of the blanket and takes them from you, pouting all the while and muttering to himself as he takes a bite out of his toast. 

‘It is as if I woke up in the Arctic.’ He takes a sip of his coffee. ‘See if I spend one more winter in this frozen place.’ Another larger bit of toast. ‘I should be in the Bahamas or somewhere nice. Warm.’ You watch him fondly as he finishes off his breakfast, grumbling all the while. 

‘Is there anything else I can do for you this morning Terzo?’ He gives you a sidelong glance refusing to give up his frown just yet but there is a twinkle in his eye you know means his mood is already lifting. 

‘I fear there is but one thing that will save my fingers and toes.’ He almost keeps a straight face but the corners of his lips give him away lifting as he tries and fails not to be amused by his own idea. ‘You must join me here cara mia, share your body heat so your Papa doesn’t freeze to death.’ 

‘And that is the only way to save you?’ You have no plans to refuse him, there is nothing for you to do for a while anyway and it would take a stronger person to refuse an opportunity to snuggle with this ridiculous man. 

‘The only way! You would not let me freeze to death would you?’ He looks at you pleadingly as you take the plate and mug from him and set them on the side table.

‘No I would not, I would miss you too much.’ He lifts the blanket with a much more genuine smile, until you don’t move quite fast enough for his liking, a scowl overtaking his face as watches you step out of your shoes before he hurries you under the blankets before too much cold air can get it. And so you found yourself held as close as you could possibly get, under the guise of helping him keep warm. He was pressed against your back, chest to thigh, your neck pillowed on one of his arms which was now looped around you, his hand caressing your shoulder through the fabric of your jumper. His other arm laid against your thigh as he had wandered his fingers down the side seam of your skirt, before resting on the curve of your hip. 

As impatient as he may have been with you he clearly appreciated your forethought, wasting no time intertwining his feet with yours. Even though you had both unspokenly acknowledged his thorough exaggeration you are momentarily shocked by the chilly temperature of his toes even through his socks.Before long your shared body heat does the job creating a cosy and relaxed bubble where the two of you can while away the morning. You are content, and so is he for a time but whether it had been his plan all along or whether he just couldn’t help himself, his wandering, fidgeting hands become a distraction.

The hand that had been resting on your hip gives him away first slowly bringing the hem of your skirt up your thighs inch by inch until you can feel his warm fingers against bare skin. You let him continue, unable to conjure even one reason why you should stop him. The anticipation builds as you wait for him to make his next move. Fingers creeping teasingly slow across the top of your thigh while you feign interest in the day time telly that was playing out quietly across the room. If someone was to ask you to explain what was happening you wouldn’t have a clue but you do so enjoy these little games the two of you play together. 

He stops just shy of your underwear, tracing teasing circles against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. The barest pressure of  the side of his finger skims you through your underwear as he strokes you and it takes all the will power you possess not to squirm and grind down for more. It feels like forever as he keeps pushing and pushing. Giving you nothing but the barely there back and forth of his fingers. Even though you can’t see it like this his smirk is palpable as your wetness starts to seep through the infuriating material that bars you from his touch. How could you be blamed for your patience finally snapping?

The few seconds since you spoke stretch like hours as he gapes at you, fingers still poised between your legs. You catch his eye over your shoulder trying to gauge his reaction but as you shift you feel the tell tale bulge against your ass. From your forwardness or his teasing you aren’t sure but his obvious arousal gives you the confidence you need to try to spur him back to action. 

Stuck in this awkward position there is only one thing you can think to try. Moving deliberately as you hold his gaze you grind your hips back, pressing your ass against his bulge. He sucks in a sharp breath, his hips twitching towards the friction and his grip tightening on your shoulder. 

‘Terzo,’ you say, not even trying to suppress the whine in your voice. ‘Stop teasing and fuck me.’ You grind your hips back against him again to punctuate your words and it is only the combination that seems to crash him back to reality. He takes advantage of how you have twisted to look at him, kissing you clumsily. He misses your lips entirely on the first try, his shock and eagerness overwhelming his usual self control. When he finally captures your lips he doesn’t relent, lapping at your lips determinedly until you open for him then shifting trying to untangle himself from your limbs and the blankets.

‘You are sure?’ He questions, showing an unexpected hesitance as he hovers over you, his hand still warm against your thigh and still not offering you more than a tease of pleasure. It’s not that you had been deliberately waiting. You knew from experience there was no right time and it’s not even something the two of you had discussed. It had been an unspoken arrangement to allow your relationship to progress and in this exact moment you knew you needed him now. With your voice now caught somewhere in your throat you can only nod frantically to reassure him before pulling him in for another intoxicating kiss. 

His fingers firm up against you finally dispensing with the teasing touches and instead exploring, checking if you were ready to take him. He finds the wet patch again easily, not even needing to find your entrance, you can't help but grind down against his hand confirming what he must already know, you need nothing but him inside you as soon as possible. 

Your patience wearing thin you find his waistband, thankful he had yet to change out of his lounge pants so you can impatiently push down and free his cock. It takes some manoeuvring, becoming slightly awkward in that way that first times tangled in blankets tended to be. There is  barely enough room for him to twist between your legs and it's too hot considering you were both still mostly dressed but you don’t want to stop. He attempts to slide your knickers down your hips but he is already between your legs and the thought of him moving away from you instead of closer, closer, closer, in order to remove them has you slap his hands away. 

With little effort you pull the gusset to the side, hooking your calf around the back of his thighs to pull him close enough to line up the blunt head of his cock with your entrance. His hips jerk forward the moment he can feel your wet heat but you hiss, the slick still not quite enough to soothe the initial stretch. He pulls back blinking at you owlishly. 

‘Did I hurt you?’ His worry overtakes him and he begins to pull away bracing his knees on the sofa cushion beneath you. You shake your head, tightening your legs around him, enjoying the soft give of his hips against your thighs.

‘It’s ok,’ you sound breathless but you don’t care, only able to focus on getting what you want. Inelegantly you spit into your hand, the only quick solution coming to your mind. Prepared for his reaction this time, you swipe over his cock anticipating how he thrusts into your palm and hoping the cursory improvised lube will be enough because you need him now. You barely have to line him up before he is taking over, pushing into you in one hurried thrust. Gasping into each others mouths you stare, still somewhat wide eyed and surprised that you are suddenly fucking. 

The stillness breaks you first but trapped as you are between the tangled blankets and his welcome weight on top of you you can hardly take control. You wiggle your hips to no avail so resort instead to baring down, squeezing him tight inside you his reaction almost instant snapping out of his lust induced daze only to give you a smirk. 

‘Quanto è impaziente la mia ragazza,’ he says, brushing his nose along yours until he can press a kiss to your cheek that might almost be considered chaste if his cock wasn’t buried to the hilt inside you. He trails kisses down your face to your jaw, nuzzling at the joint until you give in with a sigh, tipping your head back to offer your neck up to him. He sucks and nibbles at your skin as he finally, finally moves, the pull out agonisingly slow despite the relief that he was moving at last.    

It feels indescribably good as you move together, not frantic and fast as you might have imagined it, and you imagined it a lot. Not too slow either, just right. Good. He loses purchase once, twice before giving up on holding any space between you, resting his soft body against yours. It is your turn to wrap yourself around him craving to feel every inch possible pressed against you even as you curse the layers of clothes you hadn’t bothered to remove. 

Next time, you think with a thrill, certain as you are there will be a next time, you will make sure you can feel all of him. A shudder wracks through your body, mostly from the way he is grinding his hips, rubbing back and forth against your gspot in a way that has the beginnings of your climax curling in your belly. But also the thought of the future of feeling his soft skin pressed against yours, tickling hair and beads of sweat. Now you had a taste you weren’t sure you could wait.   

His lips find yours again as your bodies move together, kissing you deeply until you can hardly tell where you end and he begins. A shudder passes through you after an especially deep roll of his hips, your whole body tensing as your orgasm starts to build. He breaks the kiss with a grunt, resting his sweat-dampened forehead against yours. 

‘Cazzo!’ He groans. ‘Sto per venue.’ He seems as if he is speaking to himself, pleasure glazed eyes blinking at you slowly. His eyes regain focus locking onto yours and you feel that pleasurable shudder run through you again. 

‘I need to feel you cum on my cock mia cuocoina.’ His hands grip your hips holding you still as he starts to fuck you harder, his precise thrusts pushing you closer and closer to the edge. His upper body covers yours, his comforting weight and more deliberate attentions making your breath come shallow and fast until your head is spinning. You grip his shoulders tightly needing something to ground yourself as. WIth a growl he shakes off the blanket, kneeling back so he can fuck in to you even harder. You would miss his closeness if you didn’t feel so connected by his burning gaze and iron grip on your hips, pulling you back to meet his every thrust. 

Even without the blankets the heat between you is stifling as you both hurtle towards your climax. You can’t even speak, barely lucid enough to keep breathing when his thrusts begin to stutter and lose rhythm. His thumb finds your clit rubbing barely in time with his thrusts but it's enough and you cum with a gasp, your hands gripping his waist like your life depends on it. 

‘Fuck, fuck, FUCK!’ He moans as he rides out the pulses of your climax. He throws his head back with a groan pushing as deep inside you as he can as his orgasm overtakes him, his thrusts shallowly matching the pulsing of his cock. He pants for breath above you, his cheeks pink from the exertion but a smile creeps over his face that you can’t help but match. 

‘Fuck,’ you sigh, still feeling light headed with pleasure. As you look at him you feel a rush of feelings you still don’t quite want to put a name to but you push aside those thoughts for now to focus on the moment. Using what little strength you can muster you open your arms and he eagerly accepts, his exhaustion already creeping up on him. 

‘Fuck,’ he murmurs into your chest as he settles in your arms. Your fingers wind your way into his damp hair, smoothing the strands from his forehead so you can drop a gentle kiss in its place. He sighs contentedly, his eyes drifting closed. The telly continues playing the unwatched mid morning drama but nothing could pull your attention from the man falling asleep in your arms.  

• • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

The rolls themselves can be made ahead as well. The dough rolled out thin and precise circles then carefully wrapped around cylindrical mould. Your oil should be hot and ready, maintaining a steady temperature for the quick work that is ahead. It takes but a minute for them to cook perfectly crisp, golden brown and bubbling on the surface. While still warm remove them from the mould and place on paper towels allowing excess oil to wick away and when cooled you can carefully package them away. 

• • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

It’s not even that the two of you have become insatiable now. You still cook him three square meals and all that entails and you still head to your own room at the end of each day. He still attends to his reduced duties in a timely manner. It was just now when he looked at you with darkened eyes and lascivious smirk it went further than the flirtatious innuendo it used to end with. Though the tension had been delicious you can’t be anything but thrilled with the turn of events.

This time your only warning was the sound of him entering the kitchen to find you leant over the table in the middle of the kitchen finishing some preparation. He says nothing, only squeezing your hips firmly before easing his hand up your spine encouraging you to lean forward. In anticipation you slide your chopping board out of the way until you are bent over the surface as he cups the back of your neck with another more gentle squeeze as if asking for your permission to continue. With the small amount of room he has given you to manoeuvre you turn your head to the side and you can see him at the corner of your vision. As you nod though your head knocks the chopping board and you suspect your food prep needs to be moved to a much safer place before he continues.

‘Papa, the food,’ you say, hoping he understands what you are trying to communicate, struggling to put together a more elaborate series of words in your current state. 

‘You stay exactly where you are.’ His commanding voice makes you shiver and you give thanks to Satan that he understood your meaning as he slowly walks around the table. One at a time he moves the chopping board and bowls off the table. Your field of vision doesn’t allow you to see exactly where and you dare not move, knowing without seeing that his eyes are locked on you checking for any signs of your disobedience. 

‘Are you happy now?’ He asks when what you can see of the table is clear. 

‘Yes Papa.’ He circles back around the table resuming his position, one large hand on your hip and the other gripping the back of your neck, pinning you in place. 

‘Now where were we?’ He presses his erection against your ass, groaning at the little friction he is allowing himself. 

‘Do you know,’ he starts, his conversational tone so at odds with the way he is touching you. ‘How many times I have imagined you like this?’ The hand at the back of your neck starts to move, caressing across your shoulders then down your back leaving goosebumps in its wake. Both hands settle on your ass cheeks, squeezing firmly until you gasp. He grinds his cock against you again, the hard ridge of his arousal catching you perfectly. You are already so wet when he pulls back your skirt is stuck to you and he lets out a long slow breath when he notices. He lifts the hem of your skirt up revealing you to his gaze.  

‘Puttana,’ he mutters, freezing in place for just when he realises that you hadn’t bothered with any underwear this morning. ‘Cazzo,’ the sight of you wet and ready for him to take must chip away at his self control, he grabs your wrist twisting it to the small of your back and directs you to hold up your skirt for him.   

‘All spread out over this table just for me.’ He has barely even touched you but your breath comes in pants as you listen to him opening his trousers, the pop of buttons, the click of clasps clasps and the hurried unzipping of his fly. You feel the heat of him before he even touches you but instead of fucking into you like you need he pushes the head of his cock between your thighs. His breath stutters at the sensation of your pillowy thighs squeezing his cock as he slowly thrusts. The sensation only makes you more desperate as he takes his pleasure from your body without giving you anything in return. 

‘If I had known how desperate for me you were before,’ he says, slowly, softly, making you wait even for his words when he finally, finally angles his next slow thrust upwards. The tip of his cock gradually pushing through your folds and nudging at your clit with the same slow precise rhythm of his carefully chosen words. 

‘That every time I had the urge I could have bent you over.’ His every action seems designed to drive you mad with want. He finds your entrance with ease, the pressure just enough to make you clench in anticipation but yet not enough to give you any satisfaction. ‘And fucked you.’ 

You aren’t quite used to it yet, the delicious stretch, the perfect angle of him. He must be watching himself fuck you, pulling out infuriatingly slow before thrusting back in, knocking th air from your lungs each time. His self control doesn’t last for long though, the tight wet heat of you pulling him in over and over again until he is pushing into you hard and fast. The heavy table creaks at the onslaught and you are sure to have bruises on your hips where he is pressing you into the edge but it feels too good for you to consider stopping for a second.

It’s not long before you sense him getting close, leaning over you for support, his soft stomach pressing your hand into your back. For a moment you find yourself again wishing you had taken the time to pull off each other's clothes so you could feel his bare skin against you, the soft scratch of his chest hair, but there would be time for that. Next time you promise yourself yet again, as you feel your orgasm washing over you. 

You stare through the table top, your head buzzing, somewhat detached from reality. His final thrusts jolt through your body as he joins you in bliss, his strength seeping out of him as he collapses  against your back. The world comes back into focus with him panting against the back of your neck, the welcome weight of him slightly less welcome this time now you are pressed against the kitchen table. 

‘Terzo, the table is quite hard,’ you inform him, attempting to push yourself into a more upright position. 

‘Oh! Mi dispiace,’ he says hurriedly lifting himself off of you. You grab his wrist before he can get too far though turning to face him. 

‘I’m going to think about that every time I am preparing food now,’ you tease him with a smile, drawing him in for a kiss. 

‘Mmmm but I was already.’ You giggle as he kisses you, languid and warm until his rumbling tummy makes you break apart with laughter. You both look down at his complaining stomach, then back up at each other, laughing even harder.

‘I think I better finish off this meal,’ you say, righting your dress. ‘Before we get any more complaining out of you,’ you joke, giving his tummy a gentle poke. He swats away your hand before flopping into one of the chairs just out the way, watching you get back to work with a dreamy expression. 

• • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

The filling is as important as the dough being one of only two components and can be flavoured to your preference. Generous spoonfuls of ricotta and mascarpone are whisked together with sugar and candied fruit peel added to taste. The mixture is ready when it is light, airy and just sweet enough. Spoon into a piping bag and you are ready to assemble the final product.

• • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

‘Terzo are you busy?’ You ask knocking on the door frame. He had mentioned craving something sweet earlier so you were hoping he would have the time to indulge both you and himself. You held the tray of cannoli behind your back, admiring him as you waited for him to finish with his work. He is once again wearing his glasses as he sits at his desk, reading over some documents. Though his brow is creased in mild frustration at whatever he is reading, his expression lifts as he acknowledges your interruption, a smile crossing his face as he drops the documents  on the desk and spins his chair to look at you properly. 

‘Not any more,’ he says, eyes raking you up and down over the rim of his glasses. ‘What can I do for you cara mia?’

‘I have a surprise for you,’ you reply coyly, slowly making your way towards him.   

‘A good surprise?’ He questions. You are almost insulted, when have you ever given him a bad surprise?

‘I would like to think so,’ you say, not willing to give away the surprise yet especially while he is questioning your motives.

‘Ok then, come and surprise me.’ He pats his lap beckoning you closer. You take a few steps closer then with a flourish present him the plate and his face lights up. 

‘Cannoli? For me?’ His face lights up in delight and you think that you want to make him happy like this everyday for the rest of your life but you push that aside for later.

‘You said you were craving something sweet,’ you say instead.

‘Ah mia cuocoina always making sure I am satisfied.’ He reaches for the plate but you wave his hands away a sudden idea coming to you on how you might satisfy him even further. Placing the plate on his desk just out of his reach you settle sideways across his lap leaning against his chest. His arms wrap around your waist holding you close and he presses a kiss to your cheek murmuring in thanks. 

‘Let me taste,’ he demands but this is one time where you have no intention of following his orders. You pick one off the top of the pile and hold it to his mouth forcing him to lean forwards to take a bite but just when the treat is within his reach you pull it away. 

‘No teasing cuocoina’ he says sternly.

‘You didn’t say please,’ you remind him sweetly.

‘Please. Now.’ he rolls his eyes at you as he says it, barely humouring you and yet expecting you to obey. You hold the treat towards him again but at the last second eat it yourself. He watches you in shock as you moan exaggeratedly at the taste, licking the escaped cream from your fingers and your lips.

‘Cara mia why would you tease me this way?’ He asks as if he isn’t the worst tease you have ever known. 

‘You didn’t say please,’ you repeat. He did say it technically, but he didn’t mean it and you were enjoying watching his frown lines deepen the more you wound him up.

‘I did,’ he says indignantly. 

‘You need to mean it,’ you say, reaching for another one and sucking the cream from inside first before popping the outer shell in your mouth.

‘Please mia cuocoina! Ti prego, per favore, please!’ He looks pleadingly between you and the plate as he begs and as much as you want to give in and let him taste you decide to push him a little bit further.

‘Show me how much you want it.’ He drops his pleading act in an instant the terrible man, his eyes darkening and a smirk pulling at his lips now he has figured out your game. 

‘If you insist.’ In a moment he is fully in control, his hand finding the back of your head to keep you in place as he shows you exactly how much he wants it. He kisses you fiercely, tongue delving between your lips searching out any left over flavour of the treat. He pauses to catch his breath and you take your chance, twisting in his lap and helping yourself to another. You lean back against his chest, tipping your head back against his shoulder and letting him watch you delicately lick the cream from inside before eating the pastry in two bites. 

‘You are an insufferable tease mia cuocoina,’ he growls it into your neck, nipping at what he knows is a weak spot for you as he watches you eat.

‘It takes one to know one.’ You are being childish, you know that but you are having fun. It’s not very often you get under his skin and you want to stretch it out for as long as possible. 

‘I thought this was my surprise.’ And even despite his grumbling you can feel him getting hard beneath you. 

‘I decided you need to earn it.’ You push even as you tip your head offering him more of your neck to torture you in return.

‘Oh.’ You’re in for it now you can tell by the sound of his voice but you couldn’t be happier. He slides his hands down your waist and over your thighs, spreading your legs and bracing you either side of his lap. ‘I see how it is.’ He unbuttons your habit slowly working from the hem up to your neckline peeling back the material. He sighs in satisfaction when he sees your underwear, delicate purple lace with sparkling gold embroidery.  

‘I like this,’ he comments as he slips his hands into the cups of your bra, teasing your nipples with controlled pinches and flicks of his fingers. 

‘Have another,’ he tells you, pinching your nipples sharply when you take a bite. This is his payback, you realise when he doesn’t relent, alternating between massaging your breasts and stroking your nipples, surprising you with hard pinches everytime he thinks you have got too comfortable. You need more, more of something but he offers you nothing, spreading his legs inside yours so you can’t even grind down or press your thighs together to get some relief. He pushes you until you are whining with every breath, every part of your body except your voice screaming please. 

‘Not nice is it mia cuocoina.’ He sounds so smug you almost want to scream except this is what you wanted wasn’t it? You should have known you could never beat him at his own game. 

‘Ok ok,’ you give in, reaching for another cannoli and holding it to his mouth and finally let him take a bite revelling in his moans as the flavour fills his mouth. 

‘So good,’ he groans, accepting you surrender as he finally reaches into your underwear circling your clit deftly working you until you are again writhing in his lap. Clearly having run out of patience himself he pushes you forward against his desk giving him just enough room to fumble with his trousers. He takes your hips encouraging you up just enough that he can find your entrance with his bared cock and as soon as he does he pulls you down until you are once again seated on his lap but this time full with more than just cannoli. 

Before either of you move you offer him another; he eats it messily, licking spilled filling from your fingers before bracing your hips and helping you ride him in his seat. You are both so worked up you find your rhythm easily bouncing and grinding in his lap the sweet taste of dessert on your tongues. His hands roam your body squeezing and caressing before he finds his way back into your underwear stroking you in time with your movements until your legs start to feel like jelly.

When you can no longer coordinate your movements he lifts you up bracing yourself against the arms of his chair so he can fuck up into you. His angle is perfect, hitting you over and over again in exactly the right spot that has sparks flying across your vision. Your arms start to shake but you focus every bit of strength you have left to staying exactly where you are, his legs are shaking too and you know he is just as close as you are. 

With one last thrust he pulls you back down into his lap, moaning as he cums inside you, losing himself in his pleasure. You can feel the pulses of it as he finishes not quite enough to tip you over the edge but intensely satisfying all the same. After a moment he comes back to himself finishing you off with his fingers and moaning along with you as you cum around his spent cock. 

In a daze you look down at yourself, almost fully dressed aside from your open habit and curse yourself once again for you rushed fucking. Next time, you swear to yourself, next time you will insist on doing things properly. He nuzzles against your neck now, soft kisses where before there were sharp nips. 

‘Have I earned my treats now?’ He asks sweetly, starting to button you back up without letting you move an inch away from him. He had more than earned his treat, as many as he wanted so you feed him another without any further resistance, pausing between each to kiss the taste of cream from his lips.

• • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

At the last possible moment you want to fill them, as you want to serve them straight away. Placing the nozzle into the centre you fill each roll generously ending with a flourish in the shape of your favoured piping nozzle. Coat the end with your topping of choice then set on your serving dish.  Before long you will build a rhythm, fill, top and display. Fill, top and display until every last one is cream filled. Finally dust with a fine layer of sugar and they are ready to be devoured.

• • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

You had been trying to leave this time, you really had. Admittedly it was getting harder and harder as time went on. Many weeks ago he had started walking you to the door each night, long before even your first proper date. Lingering conversations had become lingering touches which had all culminated in tonight. 

He had you pinned up against the door both your wrists grasped in one hand against the hard wood. The leg you weren’t wobbly balancing on was hooked around his hips keeping him close, your underwear already dangling from your ankle. At some point he had managed to undo his trousers, the loose belt buckle digging into your hips where he was pressed up against you and somehow his fingers were buried inside you twisting and stroking perfectly despite his arm being trapped between you. 

He was kissing and sucking at the sensitive skin of your neck, probably leaving terrible marks but you couldn’t care less. Lost in his muttering against your skin. How irresistible he finds you, that you are a temptation he would never resist, how he can’t bear to be separated from you without the scent of you on his fingers or the memory of being inside you. It’s pure filth but from him, in his melodic Italian drawl it sounded like the most romantic poetry you had ever heard. Overwhelmed with pleasure you clench down on his fingers always needing more, more, more of him.

‘I need you now,’ he groans, pulling away from your neck and withdrawing his fingers, leaving you empty and wanting and even more desperate. He fumbles between you trying to line himself up, his quiet speech turning from seductive to frustrated. It doesn’t quite work, aborted thrusts not hitting home. He tries again standing on his toes, trying another angle which fails again. There is no deliberate tease this time, not when you are both this heated, this desperate. One last time and when he doesn’t hit his mark you both feel the tension snap. 

He snarls, losing patience entirely he grips your hips firmly and moves. One minute your feet are firmly on the ground the next he has lifted you clean off the floor encouraging you to wrap your legs around him. Your now free hands grip his shoulders as he lines up again. With gravity now on your side you sink down on his cock  and for a blissful moment you enjoy the fullness of him inside you after the drawn out torturous wait that is until he tries to move. 

A concerning yelp escapes from him at his first thrust, his leg giving out beneath him. Somehow in the tumble you find your feet steading him where he is knelt before you both fall to the floor. All your frustration turns to worry in an instant as you rub his shoulders as soothingly as you can manage.

‘Terzo are you ok?’ His forehead rests against your stomach for a moment before he offers up his hand asking without words for some help to get to his feet.

‘I forget sometimes, I am no longer a young man,’ he says wryly as smooths his hair looking anywhere but at you. 

‘It's ok.’ you say reassuringly. I like you exactly as you are.’ You press a kiss to his nose and wrap your arm around his shoulders once again. His lips start to pull up at the sides and he finally looks at you. 

‘Si, you do,’ he says before shifting his weight to his leg with a wince, his expression becoming more serious. 

‘Do you think?’ He hesitates. ‘Maybe it would be more sensible to take this to a bed, si?’ It is your turn to hesitate wondering if he is really suggesting what you think he is. This has been another one of the two of your unwritten rules. You had never stayed the night with him always returning to your own rooms a reasonable time after serving his dinner. Yes that time had stretched longer and longer but it was a line neither of you had ever broached. Until tonight. 

‘Would you like to spend the night with me?’ He asks, seeming to sense you needed him to properly state his attentions and as he does your heart starts beating faster. The rush of your feelings is overwhelming all of a sudden. This was real, not that you had doubted him for a long time but this felt like a bigger step, a bigger declaration then any of the other things that had happened before and it was just for the two of you. 

‘I would love to spend the night with you.’ He kisses you softly, taking your hands in his. He leads you towards his room, pausing every few steps, unable to keep his lips from yours for long, as you manage to dodge around the armchairs and side tables in his sitting room. Realising you finally have your chance to feel all of him you eagerly reach for his collar unbuttoning his shirt in between kisses pushing it from his shoulders to puddle on the floor. Your knickers are long gone, abandoned back in his office but he doesn’t hesitate to pulls your dress over your head and your bra removed not long after his dexterous fingers make quick work of the clasp. 

The dining table proves a difficult obstacle but you take advantage, pushing him against the edge so you can pull his vest free of his already open trousers and finally get to run your hands over his bare chest. He moans as you scratch your fingers through his chest hair, his hands resting on your ass pulling you ever closer. After another moment he spins you away from the table walking you back and towards his room.

You find yourself pressed against a door once again, the cold wood contrasting his warm softness against your bare skin. He fumbles for the handle even less inclined to interrupt your kiss now he is so close to finally getting you where he wants you. The door opens and you are through. You had been in here a few times before but never like this never with the intention and invitation to stay.

He breaks away from you stepping towards the foot of the bed watching you as he shimmies out of his trousers so he can lie back on the bed gesturing you closer and you don’t need to be asked twice. You crawl over him revelling in feeling all of him. The soft hair of his chest against your nipples, the give of his soft stomach, the way your thighs spread to accommodate his hips and his beautiful face watching you with such fondness and desire. All it takes is a guiding hand and a shift of your hips and he is finally inside you again. 

This feels like more than sex, then lust as you move together, the closest you have ever been. You had been avoiding it for a long time putting a name to the way you feel about him but it’s undeniable. You love him. You love everything about him. The more you have got to know him, the real him, the harder you have fallen.  It wouldn’t matter if you were told to stop working for him tomorrow, you would want to make sure he was happy and looked after and being with him like this only makes that stronger.

‘I love you,’ you whisper against his lips not wanting to hold it in for a second longer. 

‘What?’ He blinks at you in confusion, like he couldn’t believe what he had just heard.

‘I love you Terzo.’ You say more firmly giving him no room for doubt. He stares at you for a moment longer. Then he kisses you so passionately he takes your breath away. WIth a surprising amount of grace he rolls you over, wrapping you securely in his arms beneath him. He doesn’t say anything but he doesn’t need to. He shows you exactly how much you mean to him with his attentive kisses and reverent touches. By making love to you in a way you had never experienced before until you were left with no doubt at all that he felt the same way as you. And later, as you fall asleep in his arms for the first time you can’t help but dream about the perfect future you are certain is laid out for the two of you. 

• • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

[belle--ofthebrawl]

No title. No explanation. 2k of Cumulus getting eaten out and then Dew making her laugh. (@askingforthesun @jimothybarnes @0-miles-away alright you enablers, look ye upon my work and despair.)

There wasn't anything in particular that put the thought in Dew’s head; it was a hotel night and there was bound to be a lot of tension taken care of in plenty of rooms tonight. He could have ended up with anybody but somewhere deep down, he was happy it was Cumulus. She was the one his lust had settled on and he was going to put in the work to earn her tonight. Not that she wasn't as easy as anyone else, but he was in a mood.

So he helps her pack up at the venue. Took care of her helmet and costume while she slips into casual clothing for the ride to the hotel. Supplies her with water and foot rubs on the way there while she chatted to Aurora, occasionally glancing at him with a smile as he works out the soreness in her feet, reaching up to put a warm hand on her knees every so often. Grabbed her duffle off her bunk when they were there and held the door open for her (and well, the rest of them) as they trudged their way inside. First to the elevator, he sidles in close to her and lays his head on her shoulder, breathing the scent of her sweat damp skin in deep and thinking about where else he wanted to put his face. He was hungry just thinking about it; fresh from a show was his favorite time to eat, when a body was tired but the mind was alive and sparkling, in dire need of a way to shut off. Fresh sweat and musk collecting in a heady bloom that could get him high with only a few breathes in before diving.

Cumulus takes his hand in hers and he knows she knows what he's gunning for.

Good.

She's practically dancing down the hallway behind him as he walks to their room but in fairness, he's pulling her along with him. They both need this tonight. Himself, starving. She, to let go and allow herself to be feasted on. The door swings open and he practically yanks her inside as she tries to stifle her laughter. Shoes and clothes are struggled out of, her laughter bursting and loud when he trips over something and lands on the bed she's so kindly spread herself out on. Dew looks at her through a curtain of blonde and he knows by the way her giggles subside that he looks the predator he really is.

But her consumption will start delicately. He kisses his way up her legs. Past her thighs to what he wants. Lingering for a moment to let the hair tickle his cheek and then moving up to her belly and breasts. Above those to her face. He brushes a lovely silver curl out of the way to kiss her like she deserves and she opens up happily for him with a sigh. Here, she tastes like clean mineral water and a tinge of blood from a closed cut he can only assume happened during the show. It only whets his appetite and they lose a good hour that way, making out like a new pair of lovers. At one point, he slides off for her to roll onto her side and what they speak of will stay between them. It's nothing of true importance, just words to fill a natural lull as their bodies struggle with the decision to continue or to sleep. He would let her if she did, if her need for rest proved to be too great.

But when her hand touches his cheek and he presses his lips to her palm, he feels his appetite flare up with a vengeance and she only has a moment’s notice before he strikes, shoving her on her back again and straddling her, digging his claws in the meat of her shoulders. He’s been wanting for hours now, but he's not too crazed to go straight for her cunt yet. There's other places to sample, like the soft underside of her chin, the breasts he could bury himself in, shit, he’d even make out with her belly button if it made her happy. Tickle her until her whole body shook like she was cumming and she would beg him to stop but he'd just keep going because-

“Dew?” She asks.

He blinks away the fantasy.

“Sorry.” He says, voice only a little scratchy. “Got a little ahead of myself.”

She smiles, her cheeks dimpling and he hides his blush in her tits. Licks up the dried sweat there and squeezes and rubs and plays until she's squirming below him and he's not the only one with a crimson face. At the same time he takes a nipple into his mouth, a hand darts down between her legs to swipe between her lips. She's as wet as he’d hoped she’d be and he smears her slick around her other nipple before he tastes that one too.

It's enough to make him moan.

By now his cock is achingly hard but the little thing won't see any attention tonight, other than what sensation he derives from jumping the mattress. The denial is one of his favorite parts of this ritual. Though he eats for hours, it's ultimately in service to the ghoulette below him. He’ll ache and throb and soften from disuse, even as Cumulus sobs out orgasm after orgasm and even thinking about it makes him shiver. No, he's content to be just a driving force in Cumulus' pleasure tonight. His own will come later, at another’s hands.

His prize awaits. Past her breasts and the nipples puffy from his teeth and tongue. Over the curve of her stomach where he pauses to kiss her navel. Following the few scant silvery hairs just beneath it as they trail downward, thinning to a point of disappearance before spreading out and growing thick and curly. He breathes, heating up the air to make her start sweating again, dampening her inner thighs and bringing the scent of her out in full. A prelude to the taste that’s making him drool.

He parts her folds with two fingers, exposing the thinner, redder skin to light. Her clit is fat with arousal, poking up like a little cock itself, inner labia draping elegantly below it, almost coyly hiding her entrance and he rewards himself with a deep grind into the plush surface of the bed when he sees how soaked and slippery she is for him.

They both make identical moans of relief when he finally closes his mouth around her plump clit, using his thumbs to massage the skin around it, pressing firm just above to help the hood slide back so she can't hide from him. He eats her like a man starved, feeling her spread her legs wider to give him better access and in thanks, he presses his face in further. Her slick coats his chin and cheeks the longer he goes at it and her first orgasm gives him a nice little spray on the sheets too. Just a few droplets, nothing too exciting but he sucks them out of the fabric and goes right back to eating her out, ignoring the way she gasps and bats at his head for a few seconds respite. He won't stop and she knows he won't stop but he likes that she tries anyway. Makes her inevitable surrender to him again that much better.

After her third orgasm, he gives her his fingers to ride.

After her fifth, his tongue.

Unglamoured, stuffed deep and squirming inside her hole to fully appreciate how she tastes and feels when he makes her ride the agonizing pleasure of it all with his thumb rubbing right circles on her sore clit, jumping and twitching like it wants to get away but her hands digging in his scalp as she howls, transferring her pain to him as he forces over over the precipice for the sixth time tell Dew that she's about as done with this as he is.

And he is nowhere near finished with her.

They do break, after the sun starts to cast rosy streaks of light into the room. He lets her escape to shower while he digs through his bag for snacks. Nuts and fruit, an electrolyte beverage mix (orange-flavored), and by the time he has everything ready and set up for her, he misses her again and it's easy enough to angle the showerhead so both of them can clean up a bit. And when Dew is finished washing up, he notices a marvelous thing.

The showerhead is detachable.

Cumulus is crying and he has to carry her back to the bed by the time the hot water runs out. Her lovely legs too weak to stand. It's a good thing they have one more night in this city. It's a good thing these walls are relatively sound proof. It's a good thing the others don't tease them too much when he declines texted offers of sight-seeing, when the sight he’d like to see most is sniffling and red-faced on the bed again, hair fanned over over the pillow case and the thatch much lower cleaned up and ready to be dirtied again.

“Dew…” she says in a wavering voice as he climbs over her again. “I can't, it's going to take forever, I don't-”

He cuts her off with a kiss.

“Take as long as you need.” He says fervently, feeling as insane as he sounds. “I’ll stop when I'm done, and I'm not going to be done until I lick you raw.”

“No, nonono, oh no,”

She starts crying again, as he digs his fingers into the pudge around her waist, holds her down so she can't buck him off.

It does take a long time. But eventually her no turns into a yes and while she cries through it, tugging so hard at his hair he thinks she might rip it out, he thinks it's worth it to give it one.

More.

Try.

_______________________________________

He orders room service afterwards so she doesn't have to go through the embarrassment of attempting to walk on useless legs. He picks the first thing on the menu for himself and then whatever the fuck she wants because she deserves it for putting up with him. He’s even gentlemanly enough to not tease her about the way her fingers shake as she points to each item. He drinks coffee from a paper cup, quietly enjoying the view out the window and feeling extraordinarily full of himself, eyes darting to the reflection of the thoroughly sated, fully pleasured ghoulette behind him, curled up in a light doze he’s loathe to interrupt.

His ears prick at the faint ding! of the elevator, wheels rolling smoothly over the carpet. He steps quickly and quietly over to the door, tips the man generously and takes the dishes from him one by one, along with a bottle of wine in an ice-bucket. He doesn't so much as raise an eyebrow at the vintage; whatever she wanted, she would get without a peep of complaint from him.

Appetizers, main course, cheese for the wine and dessert are all laid out in a crowded display on the table that he's tugged over to the bed. She rouses with a little purr and he kisses her forehead, offering her the first bite. He pours the wine into two glasses and they clink in a quiet celebration. Good food, good company, and a great show last night. He can hardly ask for anything else.

While Cumulus tears into a bread roll, sopping it in the juices of her steak, Dew twirls a fork in his own selection; spaghetti made from scratch in house with a sauce of heirloom tomatoes and other locally grown ingredients. But before he can eat it, he inspects it. Pauses. Puts his fork down and goes to the phone where a quick explanation is given and a panicked clerk assures him of a replacement. Cumulus is laughing when he sits back down, having noticed the cause of his distress.

“Really.” She teases, holding up the fork and picking out the strand of long hair that had disgusted him so. “You've had your face buried in my bush since last night and now this little thing freaks you out?”

“Well.” He replies politely, rasing his glass of wine to his lips. “In all fairness, I really wouldn't have liked to find a spaghetti noodle there either.”

She throws the roll at him with a devious cackle, flopping down on the bed to smother her gasps into the pillow.

He never does get tired of seeing her do that.

[bumbled-bees]

Lily's Lies and Revisionist History

Lily’s constant contradictions and revisionist history are a hallmark of her manipulation tactics. She has no consistent narrative—she just says whatever is most convenient for her at the moment.

Take Stockholm, for example. Her stance on it has changed so many times:

Admitted to writing it.

Denied writing it.

Claimed it’s just people falsely attaching her name to it.

Said maybe she wrote it, but it’s not a big deal.

Gone back to denying it again.

The reason she constantly shifts her story is because she can’t figure out what the least damaging answer is. She doesn’t want to admit to writing a fanfiction that glorifies incest and underage relationships (especially when her own sister has made accusations against her), but she also knows her name is attached to it and that people have receipts. So she keeps scrambling for an explanation that will stick.

She cycles through different versions of reality depending on what she thinks will benefit her most at any given time. The same applies to the Tara Callie situation.

Tara was real but got arrested for CP.

Lily beat her up in prison.

And somehow, the guards just... let that happen?

Lily’s entire defense strategy hinges on two things: deleting, contradicting, and rewriting her own history, and making sure her audience never questions her enough to notice.

The Goal: Confuse, Obfuscate, Distract

Lily isn’t trying to tell a convincing story. She’s trying to overload the conversation with so much contradiction, noise, and revision that it becomes exhausting to follow.

If someone calls her out, she:

Deletes anything incriminating.

Pretends it never happened.

Contradicts herself when necessary.

Calls her critics stalkers, transphobes, or abusers.

Moves the goalposts (e.g., "Why are you even focusing on this? It doesn’t matter.").

Why Her Audience Falls for It

Most of Lily’s most devoted fans aren’t people who carefully follow evidence. They’re often:

Former abuse victims who deeply relate to Lily’s “survivor” narrative.

Neurodivergent people who struggle with gray areas and may take her words at face value.

People with depression and mental health struggles who see her as a guiding voice.

LGBT+ people who are quick to believe her accusations of transphobia and bigotry.

When she contradicts herself, her audience doesn’t think, “Wait, that’s not what she said last month.” Instead, they think, “Lily is constantly under attack, of course she’s frustrated,” or “This is just another smear campaign against her.”

And that’s how she gets away with it.

None of it makes sense. It’s completely absurd. But she knows that her followers aren’t actually going to stop and think about the contradictions.

Lily relies on the fact that people don’t archive everything she says. But unfortunately for her, her critics do. That’s why they screenshot, record, and document everything. They’ve learned that Lily’s modus operandi is to rewrite history whenever it suits her.

She’ll delete messages, change her story, and pretend things never happened—all so she can claim that any accusations against her are fabricated. And when that doesn’t work, she just resorts to smearing her critics by calling them transphobic, stalkers, or abusers themselves.

The whole reason she hates her “stalkers” so much isn’t just because they criticize her—it’s because they’re keeping receipts. They’re exposing the fact that she cannot keep her own lies straight.

[vandme12]

ronin x reader who is loopy on anaesthetic?

Ronin x Reader

The first thing you register—beyond the buzzing in your skull and the warm, syrupy weight in your limbs—is Ronin’s voice. Sharp and sweet in equal measure, curling through your hazy thoughts like cigarette smoke.

"Well, well. Looks like someone’s all doped up."

Your eyelids feel heavier than concrete, but you force them open, blinking hard against the fuzzy edges of the world. There he is—leaning over you, elbows on the hospital bed’s railing like he owns the place. His grin is wicked, all teeth, and his black-hole eyes glitter with something you can’t quite place. Amusement? Fondness? Both? Probably both.

“Hi, baby,” you croon, a little too loud. The anesthetic makes everything feel soft and warm—especially Ronin. God, he’s pretty. He’s always pretty, but right now? With the harsh fluorescent lights casting him in shadow, blood-red hoodie loose around his frame, and that devil-may-care smile? He might as well be the devil incarnate.

(Your devil, at that.)

His smile widens. "Hi, yourself, sweetheart. How ya feelin'?"

You try to sit up—bad idea. The world spins like a carousel on crack, and Ronin’s hands are on you before you can sway too far, one curling around your shoulder, the other bracing your hip. His touch is solid, grounding, and way too warm.

“Feelin’… fffffine.” You stretch the word out like it’s funny, and it is, because Ronin huffs out a quiet laugh. "S'good," you add, tapping his chest clumsily with your fingers. "You're so warm. Like… like a toaster."

Ronin blinks. And then—like you’ve just said the funniest thing he’s ever heard—he tips his head back and laughs, loud and bright, echoing off the sterile hospital walls.

“A toaster, huh?” He snickers, teeth flashing. "Baby, you gotta stop flirtin' with me. I might get ideas."

You nod solemnly. "Good. Have all the ideas. All of ‘em."

His brows arch, devilishly intrigued. "Yeah? Dangerous thing t'say t'me, darling."

“Don’t care,” you slur, leaning into his touch. “S’not fair you’re so hot. Who let you be so hot? Who said you could do that?”

His lips twitch, but there’s something softer beneath the teasing. He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, his hand trails up, brushing against your jaw with deliberate slowness. It’s almost gentle—if anything about Ronin could ever be called gentle.

“They must’ve known I’d meet you,” he murmurs, voice dropping to that low, velvet drawl that does wicked things to your brain. “Had t’give you a reason t’stay, sugar.”

Your heart stumbles in your chest. For all his theatrics—all his bloodstained glee and devilish charm—he means it. You can feel it in the way his touch lingers, in the weight of his gaze as it roves over your face like you hung the stars just for him.

You gasp. Loudly.

His head snaps up. "What?"

“Your eyelashes,” you say, in utter awe. “They’re so long. So—so pretty. Pretty, pretty Ronin."

He stares at you, clearly fighting the losing battle of keeping a straight face. “Sweetheart,” he drawls, voice syrup-slow. "Y’tryin’ t’kill me?"

“Yes,” you nod vigorously. “Gonna kill you with love.”

Ronin groans, but it’s not one of frustration—it’s that low, dangerous sound you know means you’re getting under his skin. He leans closer, enough for you to catch the sharp tang of metal and the faintest trace of citrus beneath. “Don’t tempt me,” he murmurs, words brushing your lips. “You know how I get.”

“You’re already tempted,” you point out, not quite as quiet as you mean to be. "Always tempted by me, Ronin."

His laughter is warm and indulgent. “Got me there, sugar.”

The warmth of his breath ghosts over your mouth, and for a second—just a second—you think he’s going to kiss you. But instead, his thumb traces the curve of your lower lip, dragging down slow, teasing, filthy. His smile is all wicked edges.

“Can’t take you anywhere," he murmurs, mock-scolding. "Y’gonna be like this all night?"

“I don’t know,” you hum, tilting your head in thought. “Depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether you kiss me or not."

Ronin freezes. Blinks. And then—oh, fuck, he’s grinning, all sharp teeth and mischief.

“You askin’ nicely, baby?”

“Please,” you sigh, leaning forward like gravity itself is dragging you toward him. "Please, please, please—"

He cuts you off with a kiss.

It’s not soft. It’s not sweet. It’s Ronin. Teeth and tongue, rough and greedy, like he’s been starving for you. You moan into his mouth, hands clumsily grabbing the front of his hoodie, trying to drag him closer—like there’s any space left to close.

When he pulls back, his lips are slick, pupils blown wide. "You’re a mess," he mutters, thumb brushing your spit-slick mouth. "And you like it."

You beam at him. "I love it."

“Jesus,” he groans under his breath. "Doped up and still got that mouth on ya."

"I could shut up," you tease, barely coherent through the haze. "If you keep kissing me."

Ronin laughs softly, low in his throat. “Nah, sweetheart. Don’t stop. I wanna hear every filthy little thought in that pretty head of yours.”

Your lips curve into a wicked smile. "Anything?"

“Anything,” he promises.

"Okay," you breathe, eyes going half-lidded. "I wanna sit in your lap and bite your neck until you’re all marked up. Like a vampire. Rawr."

Ronin chokes. Full-body trembles shake his shoulders as he cackles, one hand flying to his face like that’ll somehow hide his joy. “Oh, fuck—darlin’, you can’t just say shit like that—”

“Why not?” you pout, sliding your fingers up his chest. "S'true."

“Christ,” he mutters, voice wrecked and fond and utterly besotted. "What am I gonna do with you?"

You blink innocently. "Love me?"

The words slip out before you can stop them—unfiltered, honest, raw. It’s the drugs talking. It’s you talking. Either way, it hangs in the air, weighty and vulnerable.

For once, Ronin doesn’t joke. Doesn’t tease. He just looks at you—long and hard, like he’s committing you to memory.

“Yeah,” he says, quiet and rough. “I love you.”

Your heart stutters. "You do?"

"Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t, sweetheart," he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "Ain’t exactly the flowers-n’-chocolates kinda guy, but…" He shrugs, lips curving into a softer smile. "Guess you like me how I come."

“I love you,” you blurt out. “I love you so much."

It’s messy. Unpolished. But it’s the truth—simple as that. And for once, Ronin doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t hide behind his devil-may-care act. Instead, he cups your face—gentler than he’s ever touched you before—and presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Yeah, Darlin,” he breathes. “I know.”

You smile drowsily against him, warm and safe in the arms of your devil.

[alittlegiraffe]

Title: Tug of War

The house had been quiet for two days. Just you and Marshall, wrapped up in each other, consumed by this thing between you that only seemed to grow stronger, deeper, more dangerous with every passing hour.

But now?

Now, the silence was gone.

The front door barely shut before your daughter launched herself into your arms. “Mommy!”

You barely had time to catch her before she nearly knocked you off balance. A laugh bubbled out of you as you hugged her tightly, inhaling the familiar scent of her shampoo.

“Hey, baby! Did you have fun at Grandma’s?”

She nodded excitedly. “We baked cookies, and Grandpa let me stay up so late!”

Your older daughter followed more calmly, setting her bag down before giving you a tight hug. “I missed you, Mom.”

Your heart squeezed as you pressed a kiss to his head. “I missed you too, sweetheart.”

From behind you, Marshall cleared his throat.

You turned to see him leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching you with a look you knew too well.

Possessiveness.

He’d had you all to himself for days. No interruptions. No one else pulling at you, needing you.

And now? Now he had to share.

Your oldest turned to him first. “Hey, Dad.”

Marshall’s face softened as he ruffled the her hair. “Hey, kid.”

Your younger daughter wiggled out of your arms and ran straight to him, climbing up his leg until he lifted her easily into his arms. “Miss me, Daddy?”

Marshall smirked, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Always, troublemaker.”

She giggled before twisting to look back at you. “Mommy, can we watch a movie tonight? Together?”

Before you could answer, you felt Marshall’s eyes on you.

It wasn’t that he didn’t love them. He did. More than anything.

But after having you all to himself for the past two days, the idea of sitting on opposite sides of the couch instead of having you in his lap, of watching a movie instead of devouring you—

You could practically hear the internal battle raging in his head.

You bit your lip, hiding your smile.

“Of course, baby,” you said, ruffling her hair. “Movie night sounds perfect.”

Marshall exhaled slowly through his nose, his jaw ticking. You could tell he wanted to argue, to find a way to keep you to himself just a little longer.

But then, as if sensing the shift in him, your daughter threw her arms around his neck and whispered, “Please, Daddy?”

And just like that—

He was done for.

“Fine,” he muttered, setting her down. “But I get to pick the snacks.”

She cheered, running off toward the living room, your eldest following close behind.

Marshall turned back to you immediately, his hands gripping your waist, pulling you close. His lips brushed your ear as he whispered, “As soon as they’re asleep, you’re mine again.”

Your breath hitched, your fingers tightening around his shirt.

Like you had any doubt.

---

Movie night was supposed to be relaxing.

But for Marshall, it was torture.

You sat between the kids on the couch, wrapped up in blankets, your daughter curled against your side while your oldest stretched out with her feet tucked under you. You looked soft like this—warm, safe, a mother before anything else.

But Marshall?

Marshall wasn’t feeling like a father right now.

He was feeling like a man who had spent the last two days buried in you, wrapped around you, breathing you in like you were his only lifeline. And now, he had to sit here and pretend like he wasn’t starving for you.

You glanced over at him, catching the sharpness in his stare, the way his fingers tapped against his thigh impatiently.

You knew exactly what he was thinking.

He wanted you.

And he hated that he had to wait.

Biting your lip, you shifted slightly, brushing your foot against his under the blanket. A silent I know.

His eyes darkened.

Your younger daughter yawned, snuggling closer to you, her little fingers clutching the sleeve of your sweater. “Mommy,” she murmured sleepily, “can you stay here till I fall asleep?”

You smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Of course, baby.”

Marshall’s jaw tensed. His eyes flicked to you, sharp and unrelenting, and you knew exactly what he was thinking.

Not if I have anything to do with it.

—

It took another hour, but finally—finally—the kids were asleep.

You had just tucked them into bed when you turned to find Marshall leaning in the doorway of your younger daughter’s room, arms crossed, watching you like a predator stalking its prey.

You barely had time to whisper his name before he grabbed your wrist, pulling you down the hall, straight into your bedroom.

The door shut with a soft click.

“You took your time,” he murmured, his fingers still wrapped around your wrist, his grip firm.

You raised a brow, feigning innocence. “I was putting our kids to bed, Marshall.”

He stepped closer, his body pressing into yours, his other hand trailing down your waist. “Yeah? And what about me?” His lips brushed against your ear, his voice a low growl. “You forget about me?”

Your breath hitched.

Like you ever could.

“I could never forget about you,” you whispered.

His grip tightened, his breath hot against your skin. “Then prove it.”

And just like that—

You were his again.

---

The house was quiet when you stepped inside.

Too quiet.

You barely had time to set your keys down before you felt it—the weight of his stare.

Slowly, you turned.

Marshall stood at the top of the stairs, shirtless, sweatpants hanging low on his hips. His eyes were dark, his jaw tight, his entire body tense like a live wire.

Like a man who had woken up alone and didn’t like it.

You swallowed. Shit.

“You left,” he said, voice low, controlled—but barely.

Your heart pounded. “I was just dropping the kids off at school—”

“I woke up and you were gone.” He started down the stairs, slow, deliberate steps. His eyes never left yours. “Didn’t leave a note. Didn’t tell me.”

You took a step back, your body instinctively reacting to the sheer energy radiating off him. But he saw it.

And he didn’t like it.

His head tilted slightly. “You backing away from me?”

Your breath hitched. “Marshall, I—”

“Don’t.” His voice was a growl now, rough and raw. “Don’t act like I’m crazy. You know how my head works. You know what it does when I wake up and you’re not there.”

Guilt tugged at your chest. You did know. You knew how easily the thoughts crept in, how quickly the fear could turn into anger, into something dark and consuming.

“I wasn’t leaving you,” you whispered. “I would never leave you.”

His jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists. “Say it again.”

Your pulse pounded in your ears.

“I would never leave you.”

He exhaled sharply, like he needed to hear it to breathe again. And then—

He moved.

One second he was across the room, the next he had you pinned against the wall, his hands gripping your waist, his body pressing into yours, his breathing heavy, uneven.

“Where do you belong?” he murmured, his lips brushing your jaw, his fingers digging into your skin.

You shivered.

“With you.”

His teeth grazed your neck, making your knees weak.

“Say it again.”

“With you, Marshall.”

His fingers flexed, his breath hitching against your skin. “That’s right,” he whispered, voice shaking. “You’re mine. And I don’t fucking share.”

Your heart slammed against your ribs, your entire body heating under the intensity of his stare.

“I don’t want you to.”

Something in his eyes darkened—satisfaction, possession, relief.

And then, he devoured you.

Like he had to remind himself you were real.

Like he had to make sure you never forgot who you belonged to.

---

The air between you was thick—charged with something neither of you had fully put into words yet.

Marshall sat across from you at the kitchen table, his fingers drumming against the wood, his eyes locked onto yours. It was the first time in days that neither of you had been wrapped up in each other—physically, at least.

But emotionally?

You were still tangled.

"You gonna say something, or we just gonna sit here?" His voice was rough, but not unkind.

You exhaled, rolling your coffee cup between your palms. "I don’t know where to start."

His jaw flexed. "Start with why you left this morning without waking me up."

You sighed, looking down. "I wasn’t leaving you, Marshall. I was just taking the kids to school. It’s normal."

"Normal," he repeated, like the word was foreign. "What’s normal about waking up without you?"

Your stomach clenched.

This was different. This wasn’t just love, or passion, or even possession. This was need—raw, unfiltered, all-consuming.

And you felt it too.

That was the problem.

You set your coffee down. "Marshall, what are we doing?"

His fingers stilled against the table. "What do you mean?"

You swallowed. "This. Us. It’s more than before. It’s not just love or attraction. It’s like..." You trailed off, searching for the right words. "Like we’re addicted to each other."

He didn’t deny it.

Didn’t even flinch.

Instead, he leaned forward, his blue eyes burning into yours. "So what?"

Your breath hitched. "So what happens if we lose ourselves in this?"

His gaze darkened. "I want to lose myself in this."

Your heart pounded. "Marshall—"

"I spent years numbing everything," he cut in, his voice sharp. "First with drugs, then with work, then with distractions. I never felt anything like this before. And now? Now I feel everything when I’m with you. I don’t wanna let that go. I can’t."

Tears burned the back of your eyes. Because you understood.

You had spent so much time worrying about losing him—about the darkness that once hovered over him, about the demons he used to drown.

But now?

Now you were the thing keeping him afloat.

And somehow, in the process, you had started drowning in him too.

You reached across the table, gripping his hand. "I don’t want to let go either. But we have to make sure we don’t lose ourselves in the process."

His fingers tightened around yours, like he was afraid to loosen his grip.

"Tell me what you need," he said, voice rough. "Tell me how to keep you."

Your chest ached.

"You already have me, Marshall."

His expression softened, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly. But his fingers stayed locked around yours, his grip still firm.

Like he needed the constant reminder that you were real.

That you weren’t going anywhere.

And maybe—maybe you needed it too.

---

You were standing at the stove, flipping pancakes, when your daughter’s voice cut through the peaceful hum of the morning.

“Mommy, what’s that?”

You glanced down, confused—until you followed her little finger, pointing at the faint bruise just above your collarbone.

Your stomach dropped.

Marshall, who had been leaning against the counter nursing his coffee, went rigid.

Your son barely looked up from his cereal, but your daughter, ever curious, tilted her head. “Did you get a boo-boo?”

You forced a smile, quickly pulling the neckline of your sweater up. “It’s nothing, baby.”

Marshall cleared his throat, setting his mug down with a little too much force. “You finished eating?” he asked, his voice carefully neutral.

She nodded.

“Then go grab your shoes. I’ll drive you and your brother to school today.”

She hopped down from the chair, skipping toward the front door, completely unaware of the way the air thickened the second she left the room.

You turned off the stove, gripping the edge of the counter.

Marshall ran a hand over his face. “Fuck.”

You exhaled slowly. “Yeah.”

Neither of you spoke for a moment.

Because the truth was, you both knew this was getting out of hand.

The past few weeks had been intense. The lines between passion, need, and possession had blurred so much that neither of you had stopped to think about the world outside your bubble.

Not until your daughter pointed it out.

Marshall sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “We need to get our shit together.”

You nodded, turning to face him. “We need some boundaries.”

His eyes flickered with something unreadable. He didn’t like that word. Boundaries meant space. Boundaries meant control.

But he also knew you were right.

“Like what?” he asked, crossing his arms.

“For starters, we can’t—” You gestured vaguely to your neck. “Leave marks where the kids can see.”

His lips pressed into a thin line. “Fine.”

You hesitated before adding, “And we can’t let this... thing between us get in the way of normal life.”

His gaze darkened. “Define normal.”

You sighed. “Marshall, I love you, but we can’t keep disappearing into each other every time we get the chance. The kids notice when we’re not present.”

His jaw tensed. “I am present.”

“I know,” you said gently. “But it’s different now. We’re different now. And we need to make sure this thing we have doesn’t take over everything.”

He was quiet for a long moment.

Then, he stepped closer, boxing you against the counter, his hands gripping the edge on either side of you. His blue eyes locked onto yours, filled with a hunger that hadn’t faded—not even a little.

“You want me to stop needing you like this?”

Your breath hitched.

“No,” you admitted. “I just want us to find balance.”

His fingers flexed against the counter. “Balance,” he echoed, like the word didn’t quite make sense to him.

You reached up, cupping his face. “We can have both, Marshall. We can be parents and be this.”

His eyes searched yours, the muscle in his jaw ticking.

Finally, he exhaled, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Okay,” he murmured.

And you knew it wouldn’t be easy.

But it was a start.

---

[fall0utmind]

I'm very picky with abo fics in general but your sick fic au? God it hits the spot perfectly!!

It has everything: Marc hiding that he's hurt, the people around realising that he's hurt but not Just How Badly Hurt he really is, dramatic and public reveal of just How Bad things really are. The guilt!!

Good god the guilt!!! The flavours of it, Marc who has been living with it and internelising that this is somehow his fault and that he's a bad omega, for a decade, (doubt that'll just disappear overnight!) maybe when Marc eventually wakes, barely aware and delirious from pain, He apologisees to Vale for having to deal with him again.. (you did say Marc blamed himself for Vale rejecting him, might as well twist the knife. Just hope Vale's alone when he says that cause Alex might just murder vale on the spot if he hears that).

Vale's guilt hitting him like a truck at first once his alpha realises that it's his fault that that his omegas in pain!! Seeing Marc unresponsive in a hospital bed, so small and fragile, and it's all because of him.. is it bad that I kinda want Vale to think deep down Marc hates him for doing this to him? Potentially Even More miscommunication? Because in vale's mind why wouldn't Marc hate him? Vale has been making his life a living hell for the past decade! Why would Marc want anything to do with him after That?

The guilt from Alex, and the other people close Marc, over not realising just how badly he was hurting, Pecco and the rest of the academy boys realising that by being around Marc they were causing him pain!!

Also speaking of the academy boys, you mentioned that Honda were a makeshift pack for Marc, and since Lucas now with Honda would someone accidentally say something to make him even more suspicious? I doubt anyone would intentionally say something, wouldn't betray Marc's trust like that, especially not to vale's brother, and I assume Marc would have been very careful with making sure noone fully knew just how serious things were, but like surely they noticed some things? Like Marc doesn't nest, doesn't scent, straight up disappears for days when he has a heat and comes back looking like hell?

Anyways sorry for the rambling! I can't wait to read this fic 🫶

Talking about two AUs at once is ruining my brain a bit. I keep buffering and getting confused 😭

Anyways, this has been in my asks bit for do long and I'm so sorry about that.

We sound like we value very similar things in fanfic, ngl. Cause what I really love in fics are:

- lots of hurt, especially when the MC is hiding his pain

- a huge amount of angst and pain - the closer we get to pain levels you can't come back from, the better.

- public realisations of the hurt that's been caused

- followed by loads of fluff

So, about what you said. Oh my God, yes. Marc internalising it is definitely going to happen. He thinks that it's all his fault, not outwardly but somewhere deep inside for sure. And yes, you're right. It's going to take him a long time to get over it and to stop internalising that he's a bad omega, and it's his fault. I can imagine that when he's first nesting again, and he's really struggling to do it, and he just thinks it's because he's a shit omega 🥺🥺 *again, Vale, when i get you 🔫🔫

But YEs what you said..

When Marc wakes up, there is a steady hum of machinery in the air and a steady beeping, which he feels would become irritating after a whole. He is barely conscious, everything's feeling dreamy, and pain still radiates through his body. He turns to his right, wincing as pain shoots through his side, a grimace on his face.

When he opens his eyes again, he meets Valentino's eyes. He has to blink rapidly to ensure he isn't still asleep, pinching himself lightly. Vale bats his hand away and Marc PANICS. Profuse apologies fall from his chapped lips as his eyes dart around in panic. Marc can't believe he's fucking it up again, making valentino sit here with him, when he's already made it clear that he doesn't want Marc. Because Marc is a bad omega. Who doesn't even deserve a pack.

"No, no. This wasn't meant to happen"

"I'm so sorry, valentino, I know - I know you don't want me. I'll leave, make sure it doesn't happen again. I'm sorry. You don't need to deal with me. You shouldn't have to. I'm so bad at this. A bad omega. No alpha should have to deal with a bad omega, " he rambles.

If he was more conscious, less drug-fueled, he wouldn't be saying this. Embarrassment curls in his gut, and yet he can't stop.

When marc drags his gaze back to Valentino, he chokes. There are tears in the older man's eyes and panic written all over his face.

-

Even better if Marc's family are there. Can you imagine Julia and Alex shouting at Valentino, can you imagine the hell that would break loose?

"You. You did this! You don't deserve to be an alpha"

"How dare you. You have no idea what he suffered. Get out!!"

-

I am living for this ask, it's so good. The idea that Vale thinks Marc hates him and the miscommunication is so good. More angst is fantastic.

I am obsessed with the idea that Valentino's alpha is freaking out. Firstly, at the sight of Marc, his omega, small, pale, fragile, and so SO unwell. Because of him. Im imagining that he actually doesn't realise it's his fault at first - instinct just took over when he saw marc collapse, and he ran, refused to leave marc alone, growling at anyone who got too close. Fuckkk. Then could you imagine, the doctors coming back in, saying it's bond sickness and pack withdrawal. Valentino frowning. And then it hits him like a tonne of bricks.

Valentino vomiting everything he's eaten into the nearest bin. His alpha thrashing inside of him, torn between the need to be near Marc and the all-consuming self hatred. Gosh 😭😭

And then yes, the idea that they miscommunicated, that Valentino tries to put space between them because clearly marc hates him now.

-

Then ALEX and MARCS FRIENDS

Stopppp everyone jusy realising they were indirectly hurting marc. The sadness they all feel. The way that he's better, everyone sticks closer to him, scenting him constantly and always keeping him nearby. They all stick nearby in the next, too, constantly touching.

Marc absolutely hating it- the pity and guilt.

-

Finally about luca - yes, I love this idea too. I think maybe he Overhears someone say something about how worried they are about marc. They realise luca is there and panic!!!! And then, yes, they won't tell him what it's about, but he's very suspicious.

So he starts to scout, information gather, goes to hound dani and dovi for information about what's happened. I think he only begins to realise as marc is already getting sicker. By that point, it's almost too late. He tries to warn Vale, but he won't hear it. 💔💔💔

Also, yes, people are definitely suspicious. I've touched on this briefly, but people notice for sure. Only the people close to him notice the lack of scent. His teams and teammates notice the whole no heats after 2018. A couple of people notice the coming back from heats like shit from 2015-18 (there are some theories, also some not nice words from certain people). But no one wants to ask. It's a bit taboo. Plus like it would feel like going against Vale. So people notice, but they don't do anything and don't say anything (it makes the guilt so much worse)

Thank you for rambling. I loved all of your ideas and answering this!!.

[vividiana]

chapter 2

pairing: Astarion x f!Durge · word count: 4.6k

rating: M for now, will change to E (18+)

tags: modern AU, witness protection, strangers to friends to lovers (see AO3 for a more exhaustive list)

summary: It’s been over a year since Eve had to uproot her life and assume a new identity—anything to distance herself from the past she wishes she could forget. When an erratic, if oddly charming, newcomer stumbles into her place of work, she recognizes something familiar within him and the two can’t seem to stay away from each other. But Eve is not the only one running from her past.

An alternative, modern take on the Dark Urge x Astarion romance, filled with friendship, secrets, healing, and ABBA.

a/n: this chapter is a bit heavier as we start to get into Eve's backstory. but fortunately, she has World's Best Roommate to come home to, so it's not too terrible 💛

chapter-specific cw: mentions of past relationship abuse, mentions of murder, nightmares, flashbacks, blood, guns, anxiety attacks, being called pet names by slimy men

previous chapter · read on AO3 · dividers

“I’m afraid this is all we have time for today,” says Therapist Number Nine, or Halsin, as he insisted she call him. “Thank you for your honesty, Eve. I’m truly glad you decided to take this first step in coming here. Does the same time next week work for you?”

Eve is currently channeling all of her energy into maintaining a neutral expression, so the most she can manage is a nod. 

“Great. I’ll see you then.”

“Thanks,” she mutters before grabbing her bag and walking out of the office. 

The perky receptionist attempts to talk to her, but Eve is already reaching out for the door. She needs to get out, needs to breathe, needs to–

The afternoon air is too warm to offer her any relief. It envelops her in a constricting embrace, making it even harder to breathe.

She rushes back to her car and as soon as she closes the door, her body jerks with a loud sob. She rests her forehead on the steering wheel as the tears keep falling.

This is why she keeps changing therapists, why she never makes it past the first couple sessions. Because after all the formalities and testing the waters, they start digging, and when they dig, she starts to remember, and she doesn’t want to remember. She just wants it to stop hurting. To make it through the day without despising herself. Why is that so much to ask? 

But this one, this Halsin, with his kind, insightful eyes that made Eve feel like he was peering into the very core of her rotten soul, he didn’t seem to have a need for your standard interview. No, he had to get straight to the point, to call it as it is, or rather, as he saw it.

Abuse.

It echoes painfully against her skull, the concept rattling around her mind looking for fertile ground to take root, but she won’t let it. She doesn’t want it to stick, doesn’t want to face it head on.

The tears don’t stop and it scares her, the sheer force with which the pain seizes her body. It’s not that she doesn’t usually cry—it’s just never about this. Never about him. 

There is no relief to be found in those tears, only an increasingly hollow feeling, the gaping hole in her chest widening with every trembling sob.

She can’t stay here, because the longer she stays, the more details come back to her, the more vivid his voice grows in her mind—after she went through such great lengths to never have to hear it again. But she can’t find it in herself to force her muscles to move.

It’s not until someone pulls into a parking spot to her left that Eve is snapped back to the present, the sudden movement reminding her that the world around her carries on. She sits up and retrieves some tissues from the glove compartment to try to manage the sniffling mess her face has become.

She’s still too shaken to drive, so she decides to walk to a CVS down the street to get some water and a Twix bar. When she’s waiting to check out, she spots some discounted face masks and grabs one for her and one for Lae’zel. Surely the “Exfoliating Strawberry” will fix her.

When Eve finally makes it back to Clinton, she is, of course, late. And while she looks like a chewed-up possum, with her puffy cheeks and wrinkled jumpsuit wrangled out from the jaws of her dryer, Agent Ravengard looks like a model, all lean muscle and perfect smile. This time, his locks are pulled up into a bun, eyes obscured by a pair of round rimless sunglasses. He waits for her on a bench outside the coffee shop, his iced mocha and her chai latte in hand.

Gentleman that he is, Wyll tactfully ignores her frazzled state as he rises and hands her the beverage, then nods towards the park on the other side of the street.

“How was your weekend?” he asks as they start walking.

“It was fine,” she says, her voice still a bit hoarse. She clears her throat and continues: “Lae’zel dragged me out on a hike yesterday. And Saturday was not particularly exciting, since I had to work. My manager was giving me a hard time. This lady yelled at me because we were out of Smirnoff Ice. You know, the usual.”

“Have you thought about looking for a different job? Every time I ask about it, you sound exasperated.”

“Oh, every single day. But there is only so much you can do with a high school diploma, no employment history, and no references.”

“You know you can always put me down as a reference, right? We do that sometimes. Just give me a heads up, so I can prep. But I’m also quite good at making things up on the spot—I was in an improv group in college, have I ever told you that?”

“No, you haven’t,” she laughs. “But that seems very on-brand.”

They sit on one of the few remaining benches in the shade and Wyll asks her about her support network: whether she’s made any new friends or found a way to get involved with the local community. It feels like he is actively avoiding the subject of therapy.

But then there is a lull in the conversation and finally, trying to make himself sound as casual as possible, he asks:

“Oh, and how was your appointment today?” 

There it is. The real question, the one he was warming her up for.

“I don’t like this guy.” Eve avoids his gaze as she speaks, watching a bird perched on a bench a few feet away, ruffling its feathers.

“Mhm. And why is that?”

“He’s too nice,” she sighs as she turns to face him, painfully aware of how silly she sounds. “He treats me like I’ve never done anything wrong in my life.”

“Eve, you know I like you, but this feels like you’re just making up excuses at this point.”

“I’m not,” she insists. 

“He’s too nice? That’s the issue?”

“Yes. And there is another thing, he just– He’s barely met me and he thinks that he can tell me the truth about my life, when he doesn’t even understand the full picture.”

“So maybe with time, he will begin to understand the full picture? If you let him.”

Eve takes a large sip of her beverage to stall.

He doesn’t get it. And after all, why would he? We are nothing alike.

“Eve, you know I can’t force you to do this,” Wyll continues when she doesn’t respond. “It’s your life. I’m here to connect you with resources, but it’s up to you whether you use them or not. But you said it yourself, not so long ago: that you wanted to feel better, that you’re tired of living like this. I understand that whatever he said made you uncomfortable, and you can bring it up to him during your next session. But if you truly want things to change, you will have to deal with that discomfort. For a while, perhaps. I know you know this, too. And I understand that it’s hard to accept. But please just give it an honest try, will you? Not for me. For yourself.”

She’d rather do it for him, honestly. And so, to not make his job any harder than it already is, she says, however reluctantly:

“Okay. I’ll give it a try.”

“Splendid.” After a moment, he adds: “I know it’s not easy, Eve, but I think you’ll find it to be a good choice in the long run.”

She nods, thoroughly unconvinced.

In a great display of mercy, Wyll changes the subject and asks about Lae’zel. Eve jumps on the opportunity to divert from her problems and update him on the highs and lows of the county youth soccer league.

When he walks her back to her car, she asks:

“Has there been any progress with the investigation?”

“No, nothing new. I’m sorry, Eve.”

“But you’ll tell me if there is, yes? I’m still avoiding the news.”

“Of course.”

After they say their goodbyes, Eve heads to the elementary school, but this time she chooses to wait in her car. The drive home is quiet, Lae’zel glued to her phone, probably on the prowl for her next hook-up.

As soon as they make their way back to the apartment, Eve heads to her room and engages in the titillating activity of lying on her bed and staring at the ceiling, her gaze following the branching out cracks in the paint.

She knows she needs to find a distraction soon to avoid a repeat of her outburst in the car, but that would necessitate moving, which currently seems like an insurmountable task. 

There is a soft knock on the door.

“Come in.”

She turns her head to watch as Lae’zel walks in, an unusual hint of concern in her hazel eyes. She grabs the chair from Eve’s desk and sits facing the back, her elbows propped on the plastic as she speaks.

“Talk to me, boluda, what’s going on?”

“I don’t know what to tell you.”

But in the silence that follows, Eve eventually finds the right words and recounts the unfortunate appointment, skimming over the details of what exactly she told Halsin. She’s still facing the ceiling as she talks, which makes it a bit easier.

Lae’zel listens thoughtfully, refraining from any comments. When Eve finishes, she waits for a moment before asking:

“Do you need a distraction, company, space, or…?”

“I don’t know, I kinda want to rot in bed for a bit. But company might be nice.”

Lae’zel nods, her gaze gliding around the room. When it lands on the corkboard above the desk, she leans towards it, brows furrowed.

“What’s this about?” she asks, pointing to the pinned note.

“Oh, that. It’s kind of a long story,” Eve says, waving her hand dismissively.

But Lae’zel just cocks her eyebrow and Eve sighs, sitting up as she explains: 

“Okay, so there was this guy…”

“Uh-huh,” Lae mutters in a this will be good tone.

“...who came into the Blushing Mermaid on Friday. A new customer. Um– and he was a bit… frazzled, let’s say. Anyways, I go up to take his order and I don’t know what it is about him, but I get this feeling that he looks familiar, like we’ve met before. So I ask him about it, and then he just snaps at me, starts talking nonsense–”

“Sounds like a douchebag.”

“Well, yeah, But then I called him out on it, and he instantly apologized, which literally never happens. And he seemed genuinely sorry, like– It just felt like he was going through some stuff and wasn’t himself. Which I can understand.”

“And then what?”

“Well, we talked for a bit. You know, just your usual customer small-talk. And then he left and I saw that he wrote that note on the receipt and gave me a tip that was higher than his total. He came in on Saturday again and we chatted for a bit and that’s kind of it. Left a standard tip this time.”

“And you kept the note because…?”

Eve opens her mouth and closes it shortly, suddenly at a loss for words.

“Uh– I don’t know. It comes with a funny anecdote, I guess?”

“Mhm,” Lae’zel says. She has a talent for conveying entire sentences with hums and weighted stares. This particular one seems to communicate: you’re full of shit. After a moment of silence, she asks: “Was he hot?”

Eve can feel the blush that spreads across her cheeks under this sudden interrogation.

“I– He–” she stutters. And then, carefully choosing her words, she responds: “He had a certain charm about him, yes.”

“A certain charm. Mhm. And he came back on Saturday.”

“Yeah…” Eve says, already fretting where this is going.

“Why do you think that is?”

“I don’t–”

“Is the food that good?” Lae interrupts her.

“No, not really–”

“So maybe it’s the ambiance… is it cozy and inviting?”

“No but–”

“Eve, I went to the Mermaid one time to support you, and I will never step foot in that shithole again. Unless you ask me to murder your manager, which I would happily do.”

Eve takes a mental note of the generous offer before asking:

“Okay, so what’s your point?”

“What is so great about that place that he would come back the next day?” Lae asks, like she’s trying to get Eve to understand a math equation.

“I don’t know, but we have a lot of regulars! So people clearly like coming back.”

“Yes, but they’re mostly truckers, or older people who don’t want to eat alone, or men who want to watch a game with their bros. So which category does this mysterious stranger fall into, out of those three?”

“None. But he’s new in town and said he wanted to check out the local scene.”

“Right. So wouldn’t it make sense for him to go to a different restaurant next time to see what else is around here?”

“…maybe.”

“Unless, of course, there was something compelling him to come back. Like, maybe a cute, funny, feisty waitress, who wasn’t afraid to talk back, who has a beautiful smile and a great ass to match?”

“I, uh– Well thank you, but–”

“If you don’t want to make a pass at Wyll, then maybe you should bang Note Guy.”

“Can we go back to the part where you were showering me with compliments?”

“Gladly. You’re also very smart.”

“Aww, thanks.”

“Which doesn’t stop you from being a dumbass about certain things, this being one of them.”

“Okay, well, thank you Lae, this was a very helpful distraction, but I think this conversation is over now.”

“If you say so,” Lae says, standing up. She heads for the door, turning back to add: “When he comes back tomorrow, which he will, you should get his number.”

“Go away,” Eve says exasperated as she tosses a pillow at Lae’zel. She dodges without as much as batting an eye.

Left to her own devices, Eve fetches her laptop and as she scrolls through the selection of horror movies on Netflix, she tries not to think too hard about Note Guy’s smile.

The night is restless.

A gunshot.

Blood. 

There is so much blood.

He’s still holding the gun with one hand when the other grabs her chin, forcing her to look at the body.

“Don’t you dare look away,” he commands, voice dripping with venom. “You made me do this. This is your fucking fault.”

The gun clatters to the floor and Eve startles when his hands come up to cradle her face.

Tears.

But not hers– His.

She might have been impressed by how quickly he managed to make them fall, were she not hypnotized by the growing pool of crimson on the plastic tarp.

“You know I love you, babygirl. You know that, right? I have to keep you safe. This is how I keep you safe.”

Her throat is too tight to utter a sound, but she manages a curt nod. He leans in to shower her with quick, frantic kisses, lips wandering around her face and neck, whispering praises and declarations of love against her skin.

But all Eve can do is stare at the unfortunate eyewitness. She was so beautiful, full of color and life. But now, her long purple hair sticks to her scalp in clumps, darkened with blood, her golden eyes wide open, frozen in terror.

Wrong place. Wrong time. 

That’s all it took.

The body turns its head to look straight at her.

Eve jerks awake, drenched in cold sweat. It takes her a moment to realize where she is, that she’s safe.

It’s not even 7 a.m. but she doesn’t want to go back to sleep, doesn’t want to risk seeing him again. She just needs to find a way to stay occupied until noon and then her shift will start, giving her something else to stress about. 

But no matter what she does, she can’t shake how visceral the dream felt. She keeps hearing his voice, fragmented memories resurfacing through the haze.

“You look terrible,” Wulbren greets her when she finally makes it into the diner.

“Thanks for noticing!” she responds, a little louder than intended, as she walks past him.

The next couple hours pass in a blur. 

It’s not her best day. One might even say that it’s one of the worst days in her illustrious career at the Blushing Mermaid. She confuses people’s orders multiple times. She nearly snaps at a customer for asking her why the prices are so high, as if that was somehow her decision.

Contrary to Lae’zel’s predictions, Note Guy doesn’t show up at his usual time, which Eve feels strangely grateful for. She doesn’t want him to see her like this, when her brain is so scattered, when just being here physically hurts. And it’s more than wanting to make a good impression on a customer—no, it’s something uniquely about him, about how he might perceive her. Though why would she care about his opinion in the first place? 

Half-way through the day, she is carrying a tray full of glasses when all of a sudden, she loses her balance. The tray tops over, glass shattering into a thousand pieces as it hits the floor.

Someone claps and cheers, like she’s a fucking court jester who went for ye olde broken glass gimmick in a desperate attempt to liven up the crowd.

Thank you. That’s so helpful and exactly what I needed right now.

She rushes to a couple seated at the nearest table, assessing for damage.

“Are you okay? I’m very sorry.”

“We’re okay sweetie,” the older woman reassures her. “Are you?”

The simplicity of the question hits her like a brick wall.

No.

“I’m okay, thank you. I’ll be right back to clean up.”

But as she heads for the kitchen, Lakrissa emerges with a broom and mop in hand.

“I’ve got it,” she whispers as they pass. “Go drink some water or something.”

Of course, it’s not long before Wulbren shows up looking for her, because apparently having a breakdown and needing a couple minutes to compose herself outside of her scheduled lunch break is highly unprofessional.

A couple hours later, as she enters the bar room, she spots the familiar white curls and curses under her breath. This time, Note Guy is wearing a lilac linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up. She briefly notes how much the color suits him before the dread of talking to him in her current state takes over.

“Welcome back,” she says when she comes up to his table.

He smiles with that stupidly charming smile of his and makes some comment about how busy the place is for a Tuesday night. His attempt at striking up a conversation goes completely over her head and instead of acknowledging it in any way, she just asks:

“What can I get you?”

Smooth. Keep up the attitude and he will stop coming back.

He must notice that something is off because he eases on the cheeriness and doesn’t force her into small talk, which Eve is eternally grateful for. Small mercies. 

By some miracle, she makes it to the last few minutes of her shift. 

She checks in on a booth full of men who have grown increasingly drunk and obnoxious throughout the evening. As she’s picking up the empty beer glasses off their table, she feels a hand rest on her waist as another man scoots behind her to join the group.

“Scuse me,” he mutters.

Because of course how could you possibly pass someone without touching them? It makes her skin crawl, her jaw tense as she picks up the pace.

“Aw, always with the frown,” the man says as he sits down, his speech slurring slightly. “What’s the problem, sweetie? You can tell me, I’m a good listener.”

“Anything else I can get you?” she asks, looking at the other people at the table.

“Get us another round,” the man says.

“Nah, Rick, you’ve had enough,” another one chimes in.

An argument breaks out, and Eve grasps at the opportunity to excuse herself:

“I’ll give you a moment to decide. I’m heading out soon, but I’ll have my colleague check up on you.”

When she turns away, she catches Note Guy’s gaze for a second, before he averts his eyes hurriedly.

She walks up to his table and asks:

“Anything I can get you before I’m off?”

“Just the check, please.” And then he looks like he might say something more, but instead he opts for a short: “Thank you.”

Eve goes through the motions of finishing up her shift, her mind miles away. When she eventually clocks out, she throws on her denim jacket and leaves through the back floor. Relief washes over her as she steps into the crisp night air, grateful that this disastrous day is finally over.

But the relief is short-lived as a familiar voice reaches her from the steps leading up to the front door of the diner.

“Oh, it’s you!” says Rick or Nick or whoever else, a limp cigarette hanging from his mouth.

Eve tenses immediately, her palms closing around a small can in her jacket pocket. She doesn’t particularly want to finish this day off by treating some drunk to a helping of pepper spray, though if he gives her the faintest reason, she won’t hesitate.

But the man seems harmless enough, though no less insufferable, as he stumbles down the steps and onto the parking lot, positioning himself rather inconveniently on the path to her car. 

“Didn’t mean to bother you back there, Miss,” he slurs as Eve walks briskly, eyes fixed on her destination. 

“It’s just– You looked so sad today and I know that look. My wife left me and it’s still hard sometimes. She took the dog, you know, my Millie–”

He continues his sorry tale as Eve keeps walking, refusing to acknowledge his existence.

“You know, sometimes when I get groceries I accidentally buy those chewy treats she liked so much. It’s a habit. Honest to God, I just forget–”

The diner door opens and shuts, but she doesn’t let it distract her as she passes the man in a wide berth.

But then she hears slow footsteps behind her, and her muscles tense anew, fingers gripping the spray as she flicks the safety mechanism to the side. And because apparently the situation is not aggravating enough, the familiar voice slithers into her mind, dripping with affection that makes her skin crawl:

“You gotta learn how to fight, baby, in case I’m not there to protect you. I need to know you can take care of yourself before I send you on a job all alone.”

“Twenty years of marriage and all of a sudden she wants a divorce, no warning, she says I stopped trying–”

Eve is almost by the car when another, chipper voice cuts through Dick’s drunken rant.

“There you are, darling! I told you to wait for me.”

Eve’s head snaps back in disbelief as she sees Note Guy jog towards them, his mouth curled up into a fond smile.

He stops beside her, and Eve catches a glimpse of his arm snaking up to her shoulders, but no touch follows. It’s as if he’s hovering his palm over her back in some exaggerated pantomime of affection.

“Is there a problem?” he asks sweetly, but his expression is tense as he looks up and down the man before them.

The customer ceases his sloppy soliloquy as his eyes flit back and forth between the two of them. Eve can almost hear the booze-soaked cogs turn in his mind as he tries to piece together the puzzle before him.

“Nah, no problem. Miss and I were just talking.” He gestures to Eve as he takes a drag of his cigarette.

“Mhm,” Note Guy hums, and then makes a show of checking his watch. “I think it’s time to go home, don’t you?” But he makes no effort to move, instead looking at the customer pointedly.

“Right, I ‘spose,” the man says, palming at his jacket pockets. “Shit, the boys took my keys.” He sighs, as if he wanted to say: don’t you hate it when that happens? “It’s not that far, guess I’ll just– I’ll be off then. Night, Miss,” he says before heading down the street.

Eve’s finger is still on the pepper spray when she turns to the man at her side. He takes a large step back, looking a touch embarrassed.

“Darling?” she asks incredulously.

“I briefly considered ‘babe,’ but that seemed even more awkward,” he says, fidgeting with his sleeves.

“Well, either way, this was unnecessary,” Eve says coldly. 

“Oh. Right. Well, I just– I saw him bother you in the restaurant and then– I didn’t want to just walk past without saying something when he was clearly making you uncomfortable. But I won’t take up more of your time,” he says, taking another step back. “Good night.” 

A tinge of guilt grips at her chest as she watches him turn around and briskly walk away. Her mouth opens before she can question it.

“Wait!”

He stops and turns halfway to glance back at her.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” he says, before resuming his walk.

She stands there for a moment, eyes fixed on his silhouette, hoping that the next time she sees him, she will feel more like herself—and not like she wants to curl up into a ball and hide from the world.

Once she’s back at her apartment building, she starts putting in the code to the door when it swings open, and a woman steps out, smiling to herself.

As the woman holds the door open, Eve recognizes her from the Hinge photo Lae’zel showed her last week—Jen, 25. Even prettier in person.

“Thanks,” Eve says, grabbing the handle, and watches Jen walk away, swaying slightly on her chunky platform boots. Her black night slip of a dress does absolutely nothing to shield her from the evening chill, but she doesn’t seem to care.

Eve can’t help but smile, head shaking in disbelief as she makes her way upstairs. 

When she gets to the apartment, she finds Lae in the kitchen in nothing but a tank top and underwear. She’s chopping some vegetables, the countertop full of neatly arranged tupperware containers.

“So that’s what you do after sex? Meal prep?!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lae’zel says, not looking away from the task at hand.

“I think you do,” Eve says, leaning against the fridge with her arms crossed. And then in a pointed tone, she adds: “I passed Jen on my way out.” 

But Lae’zel seems thoroughly unfazed.

“And?”

“It seems like you’re breaking your own rules. Need I remind you? Lae’zel’s Sex Codex, Rule Number One: ‘No second dates. Always leave them wanting more.”

“I left her wanting more, trust me.”

“Oh, I’m sure you did.” 

“How was work?” Lae’zel asks, making it abundantly clear that she will not be discussing her entanglement with Jen any further.

“Just about everything that could have gone wrong, went wrong.”

“What about Note Guy?”

“Oh. Like I said: everything that could have gone wrong, went wrong. Including Note Guy.”

This prompts Lae’zel to finally turn away from her chopping board.

“I need to know everything,” she demands, knife in hand.

“I desperately need a shower, but meet me in ten for face masks and story time?”

“It’s a date.”

a/n: thank you for reading! 🧡 a quick note on the language: "boluda" generally means "idiot," but in Argentinian Spanish it can also be used as a term of endearment between friends, which is how Lae uses it here

taglist: @roguishcat @arzen9 ✨ (lmk if you'd like to be added!)

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[not-that-dillinger]

Ed hisses when they cross their arms, choking back another cry of pain. Because his wrist hurts so much, it's hard to think, he doesn't say.

He sighs, perhaps a bit dramatically, but he's exhausted of this conversation and trying to convince everyone that he's not the villain they make him out to be because of his name. "Believe it or not, I do actually have a moral code, and killing for selfish purposes--murder--is over that line. Meaning as tempting as a good reset would be, that's out. And I do actually understand your wish to avoid Doom. While I am fairly confident she wouldn't kill you if I... intervened on your behalf, that is asking for you to trust me more than I would be willing if our positions were reversed. I also cannot guarantee things wont get more out of hand than they already are."

Ed paused to let that sink in for a moment.

"At the same time, I am unfortunately unable to walk, and I would if you would not make my condition worse by dragging me through the hall. So. Back to square one. What other options are there?"

Without hesitation, Ed shifts when Oleander shrinks in on themself, and slowly turns so he facing perpendicular to Oleander, so they can still see his face, and he can still see them in his peripheral, but so that he is no longer looking straight at them.

It takes him a moment of focus to keep his posture relaxed.

For a moment he remains silent. He suspects that it might not just be the handcuff preventing Oleander from returning to the computer. They're usually a lot more slippery, if the Battle of the Feistiest were any evidence. Still, he knows what he's asking is... sensitive, if it's true, absurd if it's not, and he would rather not make things worse if he can avoid it.

"You would have been back in the computer before I woke up, if it were possible," he states. "Maybe... my suspicions are incorrect, and I know if it's not, it's asking a lot from you, given... everything. Maybe too much. And even then, I don't know if it's possible to do anything while you're off the computer, but... if there is, I am among the most capable of helping you, and I suspect that might be easier than figuring out a different method to acquire a paperclip."

Something about Oleander's reaction, the way they back off in fear, is like a bucket of ice dumped over their head. It's a shock, but it also... resets the senses, so to speak. Everyone he associates with at the office, Doom, James, and Cyrus, all treat death as though it's no big deal, as though dying was a minor inconvenience rather than... well, Death. Of course, none of them would stay dead, and that gave them all a warped perspective. Ed was beginning to see that warped perspective, too. The fact that Oleander still treated it like Ed had when he first came to the office...

"You can't respawn," Ed said quietly. It's a statement, an observation, not a question. Despite everything between the two of them, Ed... didn't wish them permanent death. Pain, certainly, especially now that his wrist is burns with so much pain he can barely focus on anything other than not moving it, but he certainly had no desire to become a murderer.

Doom might want to kill Oleander, but Ed suspects she'll let them live if he asks her to. Still, Ed understands their wish to not encounter Doom. It reminded him a lot about how he felt about Alan Bradley, when he first started at Encom. Ed used to practically flee at the sight of the older programmer during his early days.

And quite frankly, Ed's tired of everything just escalating, escalating, them both getting more and more upset. Calling Doom would only make that worse.

So, calling Doom was also out. But so was Ed walking anywhere in his current state.

So where did that leave them?

Ed finds himself staring at Oleander's code as he thinks, watching it crawl across their body.

And it is, most certainly Oleander; Ed recognizes the bits of code from when he took away their sliders.

It occurs to Ed that Oleander truly wants to be nowhere near him, either. That they'd have gone back into the computer to get away from him if they could.

...Which means they can't.

"Okay," Ed murmurs, his tone gentle for once. "Let's figure this out. Sit down." He tugs gently on the chain binding them with his non-injured hand. Though it's phrased imperatively, doesn't care too much if they do or don't.

If Oleander agrees to sit, Ed would have Colossus lay down across their lap, as a weighted blanket, assuming they don't object to that, either.

Ed takes a deep breath, eyeing their code. He shoves all his pain, all his anger and irritation at Oleander to the back if his mind. What replaces it is the version of himself that his interns usually saw. The version that would help them debug their code. It's best described as cool, or clinical, but not cold like the version the other board members usually met. "What is preventing you from going back into the computer?" he finally asks. "Is it the handcuff, or something else?"

[lets-go-hurt-someone]

No wonder Gortash was unfazed or even amused by Durge’s gross and unhinged antics, he literally grew up with a devil who liked to shit in a pot in front of a statue of his dad. Shock value must be utterly wasted on him.

[bogosbinted]

Ugggghhhhh this xiaohongshu thing is funny or whatever but I literally flew to London to visit my Chinese situationship for a few days and he was more interested in videos of Americans butchering mandarin than the actual real life guy that travelled down to see him