#Oh and her hands tend to get sweaty too!!

[herestoallmytgirls]

Dani has major tease energy and I was thinking what would be some moments where she would challenge Megan's self control, either knowingly or not

Oh god, there is not a single moment where she ISN'T testing Megan's self-control! Megan might have fantastic control over her hunger, usually, it not really interfering with her life too much unless she's not fed, but with Dani she struggles just that little bit more.

Dani doesn't realise in the slightest the effect she has on the younger girl, and that's what makes it so difficult. Dani LOVES to walk about the house in camisoles with her hair up, and she might look absolutely flawless doing so, but the sight of her bare, beautiful neck is enough to make Megan's mouth water both figuratively and literally. Even if it wasn't for the fact she wanted to sink her teeth right into her, she can't say that she wouldn't want to bite her for other reasons...

Dance practice is huge place Megan struggles because of Daniela's ignorant teasing. The girl could move incredibly, and the only way Megan could get through hours of close quarters dancing alongside a sweaty, toned and panting Dani was to put her "working face" on, pretend that she'd focused as hell on the performance aspects rather than thinking about pushing the latina into a mirror and making her scream. Sometimes Megan even had to excuse her self for a couple of minutes to the bathroom to deal with things herself... because both of her types of hunger tend to coencide with each other.

Daniela also happens to be quite a tactile person, and she loves to touch her members in any way she can... cuddling, holding hands, a hand on a shoulder - she's always in contact with someone, and sometimes that person happens to be Megan. If anyone else knew the struggle she went through on a near daily basis, they'd think she had the patience of a stoic in the way she hasn't just taken the girl and done what she has been burning to do for the entire time she's known her!

One of Megan's biggest struggles though was when they had a sleepoer in Korea, because of the room allocations when they were on the trip. Much to Megan's internal horror, she was paired with Daniela, and that night was one of Megan's biggest struggles, because they had one bed. Dani had basically passed out after they got back from a long day of working, and Megan barely got a wink of sleep because she could barely control herself with a sleeping and skantily clad Daniela just centimeters from her. Safe to say, that night she went out looking for some poor soul to massacre worse than she had done with most ofher other victims, and she got a good fuck out of them too before she was done; thinking of Daniela the whole time whilst she strung the person's nerve system across their apartment like they were holiday decorations.

[dilf-docs]

Sabor A Chocolate

eddie brock x younger fem!reader

summary: your boyfriend eddie and his symbiote pal just make sure you know how loved you are.

warnings: sfw (there's always a first), tooth rotting fluff, my attempt at comedy (less funnier than friends), age gap (blog's brand ofc), chubby!reader, she's very insecure but actually deserves the world💔, angst, hurt/comfort, discussions of body image (neg), venom/eddie giving her the love she deserves!!!! kinda took some inspo on elefante's song by the same name of the title, set before venom 2 (not important actually)

word count: 2,580 words

side note: so i watched again venom 3 now that it's available on stream and i'm full of grief for my black little people eater alien💔 anywayyyy this is a based on this request; i hope u enjoy it my lil' frien :) ALSO tysm for leaving ur message!!!!!!!!!

It was Mrs. Chen's fault, really.

It all started with a late trip to the convinience store, which happened to be owned by one of your mother's closest friends.

Final's week was approaching, and with all the academic pressure, you tend to study until late hours, which means snack time can also end up happening in the middle of the night. Which is the reason why you're scouring through the store at 10pm, your hand occupied with some chocolates and chips to endure the rest of the study session you've got ahead.

The door makes its silly sound, announcing a new customer.

"Hey Eddie!" you hear Mrs. Chen's voice. You hide behind one of the shelves, ashamed of your aspect: one thing is a close elderly friend seeing you like this, another is a total stranger watching your final's week look: consisting of a long over-sized shirt with a washed up Welcome To San Francisco! on the front, some pajama shorts that ride up your thighs, a ponytail-bun hybrid and bare face.

"Hello, Mrs. Chen" the gravely voice returns. Oh, it's a guy: a guy with a very nice tone. You wonder if the face matches the voice, "looking good"

If possible, you get more embarrased than before. You don't usually have that much game, but if you were to get a chance, it definetely won't happen with you looking like this. You desperately want to get out, but leaving the food behind is a huge no. Also, getting out through the door without the man noticing is quite literally imposible.

She snickers, "I always look good!"

You decide to stay put until he leaves, hiding next to the chocolate shelf.

"What are you getting tonight, Eddie?" the elder woman makes a pause, "let me guess..."

You hear foot-steps against the floor, the sound growing stronger and closer. You pray to anyone out there who can hear you to stop what you think's going to happen.

"You already know what it is, Mrs. Chen" a beat, "chocolates!"

He screams first. You then scream, and then Mrs. Chen shuts you two idiots up.

"Stop shouting in my store! You'll scare possible customers"

"I'm sorry" Eddie says, then turns to you again and repeats his apology, "I'm sorry"

"I'm sorry too" you laugh, ashamed. "I didn't mean to scare you"

Now, Eddie takes in your figure better. Yes, your aspect is very poor, but it doesn't erase your beauty. He can understand: thanks to Venom, he's been sweaty and bad-looking before.

"Is everything okay?" you ask, growing a bit self conscious with the staring. It's definitely happened before, and not for good reasons.

"Yes!" he answers hastily, then coughs, rosy cheeks on display. "I'm Eddie, by the way"

"Glad we cleared that up" you chirp, almost breathing with relief on the spot, "I'm y/n!"

"Pretty name" he whistles, "pleased to see the name matches the face"

"Oh" you blush furiously. Is he being for real? This absolutely gorgeous strong older man? It's like a dream come true; maybe it is. No way a man, a good looking one on top of that, notices you, especially now that you're looking the worst possible ever.

"Are you buying or what?" Mrs. Chen pops up from behind you both. "Flirt later, after you buy. Outside"

"Geez, Mrs. Chen. I thought you were my friend" he feigs sadness, a hand over his chest. "You sure know how to kill a guy's game"

You giggle, and Mrs. Chen looks at you, then at Eddie and smiles. Ah, you know that look. God, this is about to turn very embarrassing.

"Not with y/n" she elbows your side, not so discreet. "My girl here is difficult to scare"

You turn red again. "Don't know what that says about me" then you lean closer to Eddie, whispering. He gets a whiff of the strawberry splash you put on yourself (you may look bad, but smell bad? never). "Mrs. Chen's friends with my mom, please don't listen to anything she says"

"Well, thank you, Mrs. Chen" he then looks at you and winks. He mouths an I'll help you, and you find yourself blushing for the 100th time. "Help me check this out, won't you?" he shows some chocolates. She leaves with Eddie, saying something like For your friend, right? but you're too busy thinking about how that could've gone in a more embarrassing way. The downside? She totally noticed the exchange; after the wink and asking your name part, you're positive it isn't one-sided.

"Hey, um. Y/n, right?" you nod too vigorous, like a fool. Just a name exchange and you're already this down bad? You need to stop. "Do you need help with that?" he points out the snacks that, at this point, you've already forgotten about.

"Oh! I can carry it myself" you dismiss.

"No, not that kind of help. I can see you're doing a pretty good job yourself" he gets closer, and your skin gets goosebumps at the closeness, even feeling his breathe on you. He's making you nervous just like that. "I'll pay for it"

Low husky voice whispering to you? Close proximity? And paying for your snacks at the very first meet? Is this some sort of trick or a straight out of a rom-com scenario?

You tend to more skeptical, but this guy is definitely working on you.

"C'mon. Don't leave me hanging in here, doll" he encourages, seeing your lack of motion. You blush (again) at the compliment. "Rough night?"

"Just finals" you answer while giving him your two snacks.

"Are you in college?" you nod. Then, you both walk to the entrance, where Mrs. Chen gives you with a look you try to ignore. She checks out your snacks and his chocolates. You wonder if he likes the same as yours, and why he's got so many of them. "Wow, what are you studying?"

"Journalism!" you answer a bit too excited, but God, don't you love your degree. "The reason I'm studying journalism is because I love to write. Through it, I would love to help others without a voice, you know?

"Wanna know something funny? I'm what you'd call a journalist as well"

"What?!" you shout a bit too loud, perhaps because of ease or perhaps of laugh at the timing of it all.

"Yeah! Are you from San Francisco?" he asks.

"No" you answer, confused as to where it leads. "Moved in for college"

"That explains it" he grabs the items he's just payed for, handing them back to you. "You know, I'm sort of famous around here. Ever heard of Cletus Cassidy?"

"Cactus what-?"

"Oh, Eddie" she laughs, mockingly. "Y/n here is as pretty and young as she looks. Of course she doesn't know who you are!" she snickers.

"Nevermind" he says ashamed. "Jesus, you sound more like a hater than a friend"

"It's all right!" you chime in, nervously. You're afraid you've fucked it up. "I can investigate you- oh, that sounded bad. Investigate your career, um. You know what I mean! It's kind of what I do, after all. Part, at least, of what I do"

"It's alright, doll" you could get used to this. A gravely rich voice calling you such. "No need to be nervous"

He looks thoughtful for a moment, and you start to fear your yapping or in general, the strange appeal or whatever magical reason he was interested in you, has vanished. As soon as he gets out of the store with you, fear creeps in. Is it all over? Was this a brief glimpse of what dating life is like? A chance you'll probably never get again. But then, he says:

"Can I have your number?"

"Sure!" you sound kind of glad about it, "do I put it in your phone?"

Eddie hands it to you, smiling when he sees what you've saved yourself as:

Y/n 👻🍫

"There you go" you say as you exit, and Mrs. Chen keeps looking through the glass. You hastily dismiss her, but you know she'll soon gush to your mother about it. "Thanks for everything"

"No problem" he winks. Oh, the nerve of this guys. "See you around, y/n. Good luck on those finals!"

You have to shut your demons for a while. Meet-cute-at-the-convenience-store guy seems to be truthful about it!

You'll just have to see how long it lasts.

Flash forward: it's lasted! Now Eddie is your boyfriend. Four months dating and you feel in heaven!

Yes, a bit of your demons have come out here and there, but Brock's been there to kiss away every single one of them. Venom too! Ah, yes: the alien symbiote that lives inside of your lover. Even he has taken to your liking! Being honest, meeting him did scare you at first; kind of a mind-blowing confession to make on your 1 month anniversary, but you soon learned surprises are a common thing if you're dating the so-called Lethal Protector. You both share chocolate filled afternoons when he takes over Eddie (he hates sharing yet let's his pal have some fun with you), watching a movie or two with his silly little comments on the background, sharing his alien-like knowledge with you (whatever that means).

So yeah, it's been a few months and you couldn't be happier!

Today, Eddie's supposed to pick you up from college. He has done so the last couple of weeks, and if you've seen people whispering behind your back, you've been smart to ignore it.

But today as you walk to your usual spot where Eddie picks you up, you hear the comments of two of your classmates (you recognize) from a class you take:

"They haven't broken up yet?" the other one laughs.

"She must've used some kind of dark magic, because there is no way that guy is with her"

"Yeah" the first one agrees, "y/n's weird just like that"

They aren't being discreet, and you start to believe they're choosing to do so, because next thing you know, they're talking about your body.

You begin growing self-conscious of your appearance: a sweater and a skirt, something Eddie loves seeing on you (he says it's easier to do stuff) but you can't help and start to feel insecure about the skin of your bare legs. You tense, tighlty grabbing the exposed flesh between your fingers, the tissue doughty under your hands. You hate yourself more often than you love, and it's harder to remember the positive side when you hear your thoughts loud in the mouth of other people.

The sound of a roaring engine cuts through the cloud of negative thoughts.

"Y/n!" you love it when he calls your name, enjoying every second of it. But now you just want to get out of here.

"Hey" you get closer to him, hoping on the bike. It's a big distance between you and the two classmates, but you still hear them say:

"It looks like a strong bike" pause. You feel sick, "I hope it won't break"

Eddie feels your arms cage him a little stronger than usual. "Hey, is everything okay?"

You hide your face against his back. "Please, let's go"

"You aren't going to say goodbye to your friends?" he looks back at the girls waving in your direction.

"Let's go!" you plead, rougher. He then realizes the girl are waving at him and not you, a flirty wink his way proving it.

Oh. He gets it now.

"Don't worry, doll" he caresses your hand. "I got you"

Then he speeds, not before making sure he leaves the girls who were harrasing you inside a cloud of smoke that makes them cough. Eddie looks back to see if you're laughing, but your face remains against his back, and he can feel his shirt start to damp.

Shit.

When you arrive at his apartment, your pace is fast, rushing through the stairs and entering his place first.

"Doll?" he calls out, but you don't answer. All he hears is small sobs, and his heart breaks. He finds you lying on his bed, your face hidden against his pillows. "Look at me, y/n"

"Y-you don't get it" you hiccup.

"I think I do" he purses his thick lips, "those girls were jealous of you"

"Jealous of me? Sure" you let out a dry laugh. "If anything, I'm jealous of them!"

He scoots closer, a hand resting on your back. "And why would you be jealous of two girls like that?"

"Because they're pretty" you confess, voice small. "Their bodies are perfect; doesn't matter if they're ugly on the inside. People mostly care about the outside"

"I see what's hapenning" he forces you to look at him, and your puffy red eyes make his chest pang. He needs you to know how beautiful you are, no matter how much you try to deny it. "You think you're ugly"

"Eddie!" you whisper-shout, alarmed.

"Hey! I never said that was my opinion" he says, tone defensive and arms raising up. "That is yours. A wrong one, by the way"

You scoff. "Yeah? why?"

You know Eddie loves you, but after today, you need to hear it.

"Because I don't like ugly people" you laugh in disbelief, "it's true! I love you because you're beautiful, in and out"

"Bullshit" you challenge, tears welling up again. You may start to see the light, but your demons come back to haunt you in whispered dark thoughts.

"You want me to list all the reasons I love you?"

You sniff. "Are there any? I mean, why are you with me, Eddie?"

No. He absolutely won't let you speak about yourself like that.

He grabs your face gently, wiping some tears. "I love you because you're the smartest, funniest, driven, most caring woman I've met, inside the hottest body of all times!" he squishes your side, and you laugh because of the ticklish sensations. "Haven't I shown you so? How much I worship it in bed? You've got to be kidding me! I wouldn't know what else to do or say to convince you of just how perfect you are!"

"Eddie..." you whimper his name out, lunging forward and enveloping him on a hug. He brushes you hair, softly.

"Listen, y/n. I understand your feelings, but it's unfair how bad you see and treat yourself. You are beautiful, no matter what anyone else says, and that's the point: beauty starts from within. It doesn't matter how many times I tell you so, because if you don't believe in yourself, it's all in vain"

"I'm sorry" you hug him tightly, "I wish I liked me more; to see me how you see me. Thanks for having patience"

"No need to thank me for anything" he assures, kissing your temple. "I don't get tired of telling you how much I like your eyes, a delicious invitation to taste you. Or your peachy skin, rosy and soft in all the perfect places. Or your chocolate heart: warm and sweet. You're bascially a ticket to heaven"

"Thanks" you whisper again, much more calm. "I love you, Eddie"

"Well, I love you too, doll"

"I love you too!" It's Venom, who appears next to Eddie. "You're the prettiest human girl I've ever met!"

"If it makes you feel better, I can eat those sluts" he offers softly, and you pet him while laughing, although Eddie rolls his eyes. The nerve of this guy.

"Seriously? Read the room budy!"

cr: divider @kodaswrld / gif (unknown pinterest source)

[edenspoem]

18+ subtop!ellie, and it's her first time using a strap, but not yours! watching you push the tip through your folds is torture enough—you expect those aurora eyes to be in the back of her head by the end. the head of her fake cock rolls over your swollen, shiny clit, and she inhales sharply. “sh—goddamn,” she whisperingly curses, attentive eyes perusing the connective passions. it makes her heart fucking rage. you, blatantly dripping from this, and something twice the width of her fingers, painted with slick. so fucking wet all around, the sounds created are intoxicating. light contorts as it gets dragged through once more, and aligned with your entrance. the pulse song inside her does not settle down.

you ease it an inch in, pussy lips swallowing up the tip graciously, only to be eased back out. this happens a couple times—with sickenly playful intentions—and it only riles ellie up. fuck, you know it does. you wanted it to; the easy phases of a smile catching your lips. “c'mon, babe..” a soft whine from her, the warm air it greets, and a delicate, yet pronounced gripping of your hips, entertains you. “just sit on it already, please?” her palms nudge you down slightly, fingers digging. it feels fulfilling to know you have this sort of hold on her—this thing where she has to grasp your hips and encourage you to get on with it. how cute, right?

although, it extends outside plain lust. she knows you have experience, knows you have the practice to tend to your own pleasures. most times, you tell her what to do anyways, and she obliges head-first. but, she wonders if her potential will rain with the same shine here. she feels only observant, and hot, laying under you. ellie almost dies when she gets to see your pussy, swallowing the girth of it. “fuck, babe.” she can't fathom any other emotion.

“oh my god, you're fuckin' amazing.” she is pleasingly overwhelmed. with each bounce, it ripples in her pelvis, smacks the now-reddened skin of her thighs, and she wants it harder. deeper inside. you have one of her nipples in your mouth, tough against your tongue, your moans, and the opposite under your palm, reacting identically to the friction. yeah, that encourages her alright. her fingers—still praying to your hips—scrape behind and pull the heart of your thighs apart, supporting you upwards with her legs. “let me try.”

she wants to be the sole reason you lose yourself. ellie certainly tries: palming her hands into your ass tightly, wrenching her brows, keeping you at this angle. but her pace isn't matched to yours. muscles in her glutes and thighs contract from how concentratedly she tries to keep up—probably a beautiful sight further down the bed—but she is imperfect. the shaft flops out constantly, and she can only guiltily chuckle when she feels your hand reach back and hips bottom out on it again. “not easy, huh?” you comment, breathing with the weight of the world in your chest. she, too, gasps for breath, the juncture of you two a sweaty entanglement. “yeah,” she breathes out.

regardless is she was perfect or not, you still came. loud and rocking against her. she felt bliss watching your chest shake with exhales. “ah, shit—that's fuckin' it ellie,” you splutter out. when you grasp her tit and give a confirming squeeze, she almost comes. she never did when you finished; a lack of friction at fault.

but it matters none. the salty, sweet taste of her precum is already lining the crevices of your face as you ensure she finishes what she began. she is so warm there. her wet, arousal-scented thighs clench you—choke you, as your tongue brushes a large motion and your hands push her hamstrings into a pain, a stretching pain. she cries out. “fuck—fuck, babe, too wide.” and inevitably feels her cunt fire a last pulse. it snaps. she writhes her pelvis up into your mouth, mound smushing on your upper lip, attempting to fit all of her sensations inside you. a strong gush trickles. you lick it happily. just taking, taking, and taking from her. it always helps to aid your girlfriend after treating yourself so well; your passion makes her fold. she rubs herself on your reposed lips afterwards, quivering and molding her mouth around little, heavenly moans—goddamn, if only it were you inside her.

a/n: love an experienced reader tbh. don't get enough of those around here! ellie pic from @/thereareboatsthisway on instagram.

[monkebearness]

He, She, & Her [Pt. 2.5.1]

Kim ChaeYeon (tripleS) x Male Reader (ft. Lee JiWoo)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 2.5.2

Tags: smut, some fluff, poly relationship, blowjob, titjob, creampie

Word count: 5k

a/n: writing the third chapter is much harder than I thought, so I decided to just write a shorter “mini chapter” in the meantime.

“Fuuuuuuuck—” Jiwoo’s pitch reaches sky high, feeling the taste of heaven as she sucks on each of the sweaty mounds of her girlfriend while still keeping up with the pace and rhythm of their cunts smacking together. “Mmmm...Mom…mmmy! I misssed—you—”

Only a couple of days have passed since Chaeyeon returned from her business trip to Jeju, Honggi has been hearing the unadulterated carnal rejoices and howls of his two girlfriends from their bedroom. Even from the living room, not even the clacking of his own laptop's keyboard can deafen the noise of their moans breaking through their walls. However, it’s not that Honggi is bothered by their passionate and unbridled moments.

In fact, he cannot be happier that they all have reunited. Jiwoo and Chaeyeon have been together way before they met him. Since she came back, he and Chaeyeon have had their own fair share of makeouts, although he agreed to have the latter spend a lot more time with the woman he’s been fooling around with over the past weekend. For most people, Monday tends to be the worst day of the week for almost anyone who works and studies.

“Are you sure you don’t want to join us?” was the first question she asked him earlier. “We haven’t even started yet… I’m sure you wanna have a little moment to unwind.”

For Honggi, this Tuesday evening has become an exception to that experience. It’s only been two hours since he arrived at their apartment, but he should’ve said otherwise. At least, his own primal urges wanted him to say otherwise.

“No, no! It’s fine, you two have fun, babe. You deserved it… You might’ve flown to Jeju, but you rarely got the time to relax and have fun there.”

“Actually, we’ve gone on some team activities, so it wasn’t all work the whole time.”

He’s just too much of a disciplined gentleman or a reasonable idiot, or both to give into the temptation of feeling her once more. Feeling both of them at the same moment.

“Yeah, we’ve seen your updates… Even the company’s…” He leaned closer to her. “But I doubt they’re the same kind of fun as the one we’ve had here.”

“Oh, wow…” She bites her lower lip. “I really thought you wanted me to spend more time with Jiwoo.”

He could’ve put on his headphones and listened to some of the latest K-pop comebacks, and he would’ve most likely made more significant progress to his sheet within the past half an hour. But, he’s already made his choice.

“I still do…” he tries to assure his girlfriend, slowly fixing her hair.

“What you’re doing right now… Makes me wanna have both of you, Honggi-yah.”

Too bad for Honggi, he’s also got deadlines to commit to before the weekend. And the continuous intermissions of smacking and groaning from their room in the past hour are not helping with his concentration to accomplish his sheet. Fortunately for him—their noises would subside. The couple exit the mint room, driving him to play it cool, while his member remains hot and hard at the sight of their now partially nude bodies, wearing their shirts and panties.

“Bet you got hard listening to us from the room…” Jiwoo teases—if the smirk on her face isn’t obvious enough. “You should’ve joined, you know? Hehe, you missed your chance.”

Honggi scoffs at her, yet a sense of annoyance prickles through him. “I ought to do…”

“Do what?” she raises her tone, her smile widening. She’s doing this on purpose, he can tell from her looks.

Realizing her teasing getting to him, Honggi places his laptop beside him. “Nothing…”

Jiwoo leans down with her hands latching on the shoulder of the couch and inches closer before shamelessly smacking her lips with Honggi’s with eyes closed shut, humming into their kiss.

His mind almost goes blank while his senses take over. The taste of sweat, lip balm, and perhaps milk, unless his own imagination just deceived him. She basically just gave him a glimpse of what they did inside—and her surprise did not help with his erection, which returned while his lust drove him to wrap his hands around her body, leaving his laptop to the side. That is until Jiwoo herself breaks their steaming moment, pulling away with a smirk on her face, almost running out of breath, yet still satisfied by her own mischief.

“What was that?” Slowly opening his eyes, he chuckles in disbelief, instinctively scratching his hair.

“Geunyang…” She raises both her shoulders. “Just wanna give you a taste of unnie…”

“Oh…” And with that, she succeeded.

“And checking up on your little junior.”

Out of embarrassment, covers his boner with a blanket. “Yah… I’m working right now.”

If he only wasn't stranded on a heavy workload tonight, Honggi would have most likely spent no time to pull Jiwoo into the couch with him under the drive of his lust. Hell, he would’ve even joined earlier, but all these thoughts are nothing but his fruits of regret.

Sure, he’s done it with her as well as one would with a fuck buddy or casual girlfriend, but her boldness clashing in with his work mindset only makes him unsure on how to react, whether to entertain her or dismiss her, which he definitely does not want to.

Regardless, not everyone gets to be in a poly relationship. Even he himself is not sure if that’s the term he should be using, because, this is a whole new thing for Honggi in his mid-twenties, experiencing most of the good aspects, and hopefully more than bad.

“Hwaiting,” she shoots back with a giggle, playfully raising a fist in the air while she walks to the kitchen shamelessly, with her underwear dangling for him to stare at.

“Don’t disturb, Honggi,” Chaeyeon joins. “He’s close to finishing the statistics report. Distract him and it’ll get us fired. You wouldn’t want that for us, do you, Jiwoo-yah?”

“All right, all right, I’ll stop. Mianhae, oppa…” She gives him soft pats on his shoulder.

“It’s fine…” Honggi assures both women while moving his laptop mouse. “Jiwoo’s always been a jokester. Nothing new there, so don’t worry about anything, Chae.”

“Aww…” Chaeyeon puts her palms on her chest at his remark, while Jiwoo lets out a chuckle while gulping down her glass of water. “You too really have softened at each other during my trip, haven’t you?”

“Hmm…” Jiwoo places her glass on the counter with a wider smile. “I don’t know about him, unnie… But I’d say he got much, much harder.” She looks at him with a quick wink.

Chaeyeon’s eyes widen and her mouth gapes at her girlfriend’s quip, Honggi muffles his laughter through his knuckle. “That’s, uhh, that’s one way of putting it.”

= = =

The next day has passed. Over lunch, employees of the broadcasting station make the time to enable their caffeine addictions and refill their hunger after four hours. Honggi feels utmost consolation surges through his heavier exhales, realizing he had gotten the approval of his supervisors. “Ratings are indeed looking good... Great job, Honggi-ssi!”

While exiting his office with his colleagues, Honggi receives a text from Chaeyeon. He did not stay at her place last night simply because he didn’t pack up any extra clothes, hence reading her message on time makes him yearn to meet her even more, since he has been itching to check out how she’s been doing at the other office.

“Hey,” he greets her with a warm smile, although concern arises on his thoughts, seeing the woman’s simper. “How’s your morning?”

She scratches the back of her hair. “Could’ve been better, to be honest…”

He already knows, having read her somewhat blank and forced expression. His mind is washed with regret, wishing he should've stayed long enough at their place. Maybe they would've played a long game of Minecraft on her server, took a late night snack, or just watched the latest hockey match with Jiwoo while he sits on the cuck chair, as he calls it. After all, they're in a committed relationship now, so not everything has to be about sex. Thankfully, they're both mature enough to confide in each other, especially during their lowest points.

“Ever since our team has reached out to additional partners,” she continues. “There’s a demand for new proposals from the execs on what our next programs should be… Like, it’s three times more than last time, you know?”

“That’s true,” he nods, slowly rubbing his fingers on her palms. It’s always been a subtle way for him to comfort her in this situation. “We’re back to hell week, aren’t we?”

“Exactly…” She slowly looks down on the floor, grumbling. “And well, I didn’t expect that overseeing a lot of them would be just as difficult, if having to come up with one myself wasn’t hard enough.”

He feels for her struggle. Even when they’re on the same level, they worked their asses five to six times a week, pitching ideas and executing projects for their station. He may not always hear such complaints from her, her face evokes signs of doubt and perhaps, defeat. It’s as if Chaeyeon’s role and tasks haven’t changed much at first glance despite being promoted to being a leader of her own team. Nevertheless, he wants to show his support and presence to her, reminding her that nothing has to change for the worse just because they’re not always together every morning.

He places his palms on the left side of her face, warming up her cold demeanor. He adds his comfort with a peck on each of her cheeks, making Chaeyeon coo while looking down in shyness. “Yah… Babe…”

“Chae… Just because we’re together, that doesn’t mean I can’t help you out like any other colleague. Your position may be much higher now but we’re still in the same department, aren’t we? You shouldn’t forget, it’s okay to ask for help at times…”

“You’re right…” Chaeyeon leans her head on her beloved’s chest, finding comfort in the soft yet tender surface of his chest, catching his latest berries-flavored perfume—which she bought for him from Jeju—and his calming heartbeat. “Gomawo, babe.”

He wraps his arms around his beloved, nuzzling his nose on her hair as his nose whiffs the alluring scent of her brand new organic shampoo. “Anything for you, Peachae…”

They close their distance, passionately touching lips. The woman, savoring the rising heat between their mouths, closes their distance with such insurmountable yearning.

“Fuck—” Honggi takes a breather, chuckling alongside his lover. “That was… Wow…”

“I know,” Chaeyeon giggles. “And, umm, you know… I may need some help for now.”

“Sure, babe,” he complies, still a little lightheaded as he is gullible to her advances. “What may I be of assistance?”

He sees her smile of innocence widen into a suggestive grin. She trails her fingers on the edge of his blazer until they reach his crotch. “I just need a little moment… To unwind.”

Without any other response aside from “Follow me,” she walks and takes him into the emergency exit stairs of the upper floor. They’ve never been adventurous at work since all their nights of releases take place at each other's places, but Honggi has always been open-minded enough to follow her lead and explore each other… Elsewhere. Reaching a blind spot from any active camera, Chaeyeon pins Honggi on the white wall, latching her lips on his neck. The man lets out soft groans, closing his eyes to savor her dripping lips.

“Are you sure you wanna do this here?” And now that they’re here, his professional mind and burning libido comes clashing right in front of his lover. “You don’t want somewhere else more private?” he asks, almost paralyzed by his own standing cock.

Looking into her captivating eyes, his girlfriend nods while maintaining her gaze at him.

“I know you said you didn’t want to join Jiwoo and me last night, but—”

“That’s not what I meant…”

“It’s okay, babe. I know you were stuck at work, and it paid off… I just remember the stuff you’ve been doing.”

His head tilts to the side. “Did that make you jealous?”

“Of Jiwoo?” Her tone comes off as defensive. “No, no, I’m not jealous of anyone. I’m probably the happiest, finding out you did it together and all that.”

Still, he believes her. “But I’m guessing there’s a but…” he infers. So he listens on.

Chaeyeon chuckles without a sound, although her face still radiates with hesitation. “You two have been a little more adventurous.” She doesn’t know whether to feel more embarrassed or bold, considering that she’s feeling both. “At least, compared to us back then… That's, uh, kinda what I was jealous of, Honggi.”

There’s a heap of relief and intrigue flowing through him. “Oh…” He suppresses a smirk.

“And if you didn’t notice before…” She takes a step closer to him. “I realized that I've been used to being the dominant one…” And another. “Both with you and Jiwoo…”

He's got a hunch of what she's implying. “Now, you—”

“I want to feel those things, too, baby..." she coos. “I want you to take the lead this time.”

His smirk finally arises from his lips. This will be a little milestone in their relationship. “Well… Your pleasure is mine to fulfill, Mommy.”

Hunger pulls their lips back together like a primitive magnet, exchanging saliva and howling in-between while their fingers climb and tug onto the fabric of their blouse.

Until… She stops right as she reaches his bulge, much to his confusion. The woman rests on his forehead, catching up to her breath. “Mianhae, oppa…”

“Hey, hey… It's okay,” he huffs. “It’s not that weird to take a breather.”

“That, and I just thought of something that can help us speed things up, you know?”

“Well, you don't have to worry that much. We still got less than thirty minutes.”

“Yeah…” She lowers her voice. “But that's not what I mean by speeding things up.”

The woman slowly kneels on the smooth, cold floor, bending closer to his erect member. “It must’ve been dying to get out of these pants, hasn’t it?” Chaeyeon slowly tightens her fingers around his scrotum, making the man bite his lower lip. “Well… It’s time to let the big bull out.”

Honggi can only muffle a groan out of anticipation while he hears her unzip his pants.

“Just relax…” she whispers. “Just give me a moment… Then you… can fuck my face.”

With her mouth, the woman finally envelops his cock. A familiar yet irresistible process. It has only been a month, but she already misses this cock. Maybe even from the day she met him at the airport Monday morning. Even she was conflicted by her lust, having had many opportunities to pull Honggi him to join her and Jiwoo, the same way he would’ve pulled Jiwoo on the couch last night. But since she has this man all to herself, she shuts down any desire towards both her partners as the final half of his member reaches her tonsil and inches deeper into her throat.

Despite feeling the chills crawl up his spine, Honggi pulls her head in a little deeper and pulls her out the following second, allowing her to start her work on his cock by bobbing her head in and out. The view down there makes it more luscious for him as he catches a glimpse of Chaeyeon’s throbbing cleavage every time he looks down, bouncing along her head with his balls smacking her chin every back and forth.

“Oooooooohhh~~Fuuuuuck, baby… I’m gonna fu—” he gasps. Chaeyeon leans down his scrotum, opening her mouth wide enough to take both nuts inside. Her last-second trick incites a reaction from him, adding another groan from Honggi, while more and more of his seed drips down her face. Although still panting, the man feels the weight of his love tugging on his hands, immediately prompting him to help her get back on her feet.

“Oh, God… You, you… Wow,” Honggi wheezes, laughing with her in astonishment since she just made him speechless. In his heart and mind, Chaeyeon’s never failed to deliver and please and, eventually, he’ll have to live up to her expectations the next chance he gets. For now, his lightheadedness drives him to pepper kisses across her collarbone.

“I’m glad you liked it, Daddy,” she giggles, before holding his hand. “But that’s not all…”

= = =

They’re now inside the restroom, thanks to Chaeyeon’s direction. Locked shut without disturbance from anyone else, they found themselves locking lips and dancing tongues once again, now inside the leftmost stall. Aside from the gratification of exploring each other's mouths, they only smell each other's sweat and perfume, thanks to the room's premier ventilation, instead of catching the filth of piss and crap usually found in this area. In fact, that is a little too clean from the lowermost floors, but he's not complaining.

“I never knew they had a restroom like this in the building,” he chuckles.

“People rarely go here… So thankfully, this place should be ours to claim this time.”

“Really?” he raises an eyebrow, as is the left side of his lips. “You sure you haven’t done it here before me?”

“No… But I saw a few folks coming in and out of here every once in a while. It caught on, but no one reported anything about it.”

They first dated a year ago, but more and more surprises from her still turns him on.

“I thought—”she continues. “This would be the perfect time to take someone I’m with here… and find out what the fuss is all about.”

He thought he had taken the lead, yet she’s been the one guiding him in this sexcapade.

“We could’ve stayed outside the stall,” he suggests. “We have all the room for ourselves.”

“But a king needs his throne,” she retorts. “Even if it’s a makeshift and unexpected one.”

He shakes his head in embarrassment. “It’s fine, Chae. And I’m not a king, but you’re definitely the qu—”

She places her index finger on his lips. “Uh-uh… Not this time, Daddy. You’re leading this time, remember?”

Even though such a remark still confuses Honggi, this newer side of Kim Chaeyeon is going to drive him insane the longer he wonders about how far she's willing to go with him, just as how he assumes how wilder she must've been with Jiwoo long before they met. How crazier would it be if he learns more of it alongside both women? Having both their presence will probably melt his mind, while his cock might even explode due to his uncontrollable libido.

Before he could've done a move to lead his woman, she pulled him closer, resting her head on his chest, still savoring his heartbeat for a second time. “You really worked so hard yesterday. I guess your report this morning knocked it out of the park, didn’t it?”

“It did…”

“And not to mention the time you fought for me and Jiwoo-yah.” Recalling his fight at the bar, he knows he’ll do it again, if he has too. But considering how stunned he feels at her soothing influence and gratitude, he lets her slowly push him into the corner behind the now closed toilet bowl. “And because of all that, you should just buckle up… Relax… And let me help you—”

As if having two girlfriends weren’t enough, having one of them to be your coworker is on another level… The thrilling persistent thought of it is revitalizing the man while he watches Chaeyeon's seductive tease of a show with his erection itching out of his pants.

From bottom to top, Chaeyeon unbuttons her blouse with a grin. “Loosen up for a bit.”

And she unbuckles her bra from the front, making him gulp in surprise. In their year of relationship, Honggi hasn’t seen Chaeyeon wear a front-end bra before, considering he has only seen her naked at work through certain texts and pictures—either he or Jiwoo had seen. Salivating down his mouth, his eyes widened with her luscious mounds and nipples exposed. “Holy…” The woman takes his right hand and places it on her left tit.

“Eat up, oppa.” That term is something that has always triggered his own psyche. Their eleven-month age gap was never a bother, since they’re the same age, seeing each other as equals with no need for honorifics. Yet, at every moment she mouths that term—that  needless yet arousing word—it drives his desire to feel her body tenfold. It drives him to dominate her in some shape or form. Spreading his own saliva all over her soft and pale mounds, taking his time and turns to kiss and nuzzle on each of her motherly knockers, allows Chaeyeon to relish with moans and giggles, unable to react with only one. From playful peppers of kisses, hunger takes over Honggi, forcing him to open his mouth inches wider, similar to how Chaeyeon had always taken his girth and balls earlier.

Honggi can’t help but exhale a chortle. “I've finally earned them, haven’t I?”

“You’ve always earned them, Daddy,” she retorts right as she softly pushes him to sit on the cover. “And so will this.” She kneels on the floor, much to her boyfriend’s confusion.

He tries to stop her from placing her left knee. “Chae, don’t you think the floor’s dirty—”

But she soothes him with another kiss. “Gwenchana. I’m already dirtier than you think.”

There’s no doubt in his mind about her willingness to go bolder, be bolder than last. Chaeyeon inches her chest closer, sliding the crevice of her breasts between his now slobbered manhood. There’s still traces of his semen left from both her astounding blowjob and his decent mouthfuck.

Who cares who’s taking the lead? Chaeyeon knows what she’s doing, he calms himself internally. Fuck, she’s the best. Yet, she's only getting better and better.

With both hands, she holds each of her mounds and begins sliding them up and down between his shaft. A rock hard, throbbing hotdog between two fresh and smooth buns, squeezing him tighter and tighter as if it couldn’t breathe. “You–like it?” she asks while increasing the speed of her movement, making Honggi feel and imagine like he is going in and out of a second cunt, or getting sucked on and off by the gap of her jugs while her lips leave some peppers of kisses on his moist, squirting tip.

“Sooooo~~fucking—goooooo~~” he wails, keeping his open palms on both sides of the stall. He finds it odd, yet exhilarating to feel both tension and invigoration at the same time. This unorthodox massage is something he hasn’t ever felt in his years of dating. Experiencing it with this stunning woman only emphasizes just how grateful he feels.

“I’m… glad,” she chuckles, keeping her eyes up Honggi's while his head looks up into the ceiling in venereal ecstasy. Within a few seconds, his eyes roll backwards as this moment takes him to heaven, a state neither of them are strangers to back at home. Even a day or night of hell grants him a trip to paradise, whenever he gets a moment with Chaeyeon.

“I'm chch—” he stutters, his body slowly shivering out of overstimulation. Despite this, only he knows the limits of his own body, sensing the fluid building up. “Cclo—ooose!”

“Let it out, Daddy,” she cheers. “Like you—ngghhhaaalways—have—beefore!”

He jizzes all over her face for a second time, with several splatters latching onto her breasts like a warm glue, a substance that she can’t get enough off.

Honggi helps Chaeyeon up, leveling with her once again, while his left hand reaches the woman's right ass cheek, giving it a slow and gentle, massage-like pinch, like a dough. Perhaps, now’s the time for him to prove his initiative over her however he can.

“I wonder what's that naughty hand up to,” she muses, keeping herself from squealing with pleasure.

It's time to take the lead. “Now, just hold on… And let me return the favor, Mommy.”

His dampened lips crash against hers, inevitably whiffing the bleachy scent and sticky texture of his seed on her smooth face. Within moments, they devour each other's face whole in a battle for dominance, although the strength possesses Honggi with his new determination to take the lead now—considering Chaeyeon’s nonstop and exceptional services to reward him of today’s success.

His conscience alerts him for a second, compelling him to ask her, “Can I?” as his right hand wraps around her waist, starting to shiver in excitement towards their closeness.

Chaeyeon nods as soon as she itches to take her panties off of her now unzipped pants urgently, to which Honggi assists and places on the coat hanger above her, dangling as he catches the remains of her dried juices. She must have gotten her own fair share of satisfaction when she sucked him off, much to his relief that she's also having fun as much as he did.

“Don’t go easy… On me,” the woman huffs with a giggle, anticipating with what Honggi has always known as her usual fuck me eyes. Following her command, he aligns his rod with her entrance, being able to do it with ease thanks to her flawless coordination. Her folds remain as tight as he last entered her, only about a month ago, yet plunging inside her once more triggers a deep giggle that he can’t hold in while his lover keeps moaning the more his cock crosses her walls, revisiting her through the loosening and tightening sensation around him. “Mmmmmngggghhhhh,” is the only first response Chaeyeon can grumble with her muffled lips, putting the trust of her balance by holding her arms onto Honggi tight until his tip makes it just below her cervix. “Always so big for mmmmm…”

He trails right hand down on her ass before lifting her left leg, raising it onto his waist. As their genitals finally make contact, the man speeds up his thrusts, slowly deepening his cock inside her each time he slides within her canal. He maintains his hold of her leg as his poundings intensify, shaking the sturdy door behind Chaeyeon like an earthquake gradually increasing its magnitude. They keep up this pace with his thumping abandon, expressing their glee through huffs and moans amidst their staminas decreasing. They pound against each other like machines, only programmed to repeat the same sets.

In the tenth minute of their carnal fusion, their lips part for the nth time; the woman's breath running thin with the peak of her climax. Despite their tight and enclosed space, Honggi takes delight in his partners’ tits still jiggling against his chest as Chaeyeon’s eyes roll to the back the longer her lover's cock keeps ramming her in and out.

“Imma—cumming, Daddy—” she warns him as her pitch raises without restraint, arching her back and slightly pushing Honggi for a little more space.

“I'm—grrrhhh—close, tooo… Momm…ahh!” he catches up, feeling his throbbing shaft like a rolling boil, its cover no longer able to hold in the water vapor from getting out, until he can finally release—

“Inside!” she begs with a tumultuous volume, squeezing her fingers. “Safe to—hnggghh!”

With four more thrusts and a primal grunt at the top of his lungs, Honggi’s seed bursts deep inside Chaeyeon’s womb. Her head throws back, leaning and howling into the ceiling as she loses her voice out of ethereal pleasure, embracing her lover’s semen gushing on the bottom of her cervix with her arms still wrapping around his shoulders. They steady their breathing, slowly huffing and puffing in front of each other's mouths without much rush. A panting Honggi cautiously lowers his lover’s left leg on the floor.

The two dress and clean up, not long after a final makeout session. Honggi leaves the stall first, leaving Chaeyeon inside for a few more minutes to give her own space. Even with her limited breath, she teases him for being too classy, something which he doesn't deny. Chaeyeon deserves everything good. Pleasuring her now was the least I could do.

“So, do you wanna have lunch or..?” he brings up, right as he wears his jacket, inserting his arms on each hole.

“Oh, I would love to, but I set up a team lunch in five minutes,” she answers, buttoning her blouse. “Would be nice to discuss some of the proposals with my team through a brainstorming session, like you said… You can come along with us if you want.”

“I think you guys and girls have fun on your own... Plus, I wouldn't wanna disturb your whole synergy or somehow steal all your ideas for my own team’s sake,” Honggi shoots back with a sarcastic tone.

“All right, all right,” she chuckles, shaking her head. “But you still should know that you're always welcome to tag along with us some other time, babe.”

He gives the disheveled bangs on his hair a little fix to the side while he walks to her. “That, I wouldn't mind. I’ll be seeing you at the lobby by six, then?”

He receives a peck from her. “No need, Honggi-yah… I’ll pay you a visit later. Right outside your office. Hmm?”

Those butterflies still remain in his stomach just hearing those kinds of simple remarks and reminders from this woman. “I love you,” he just mutters instead of answering her, holding her hands right as she parts from him with some reluctance.

Chaeyeon steals another, much longer kiss from Honggi. “Love you too, babe…” With a sheepish smile, she quickens her pace and walks away from him as a tease; he can only chortle at her silly yet adorable movement.

“Hwaiting!” he adds, raising his fist in the air. She mirrors his cheerful gesture with a wider smile before walking to the nearby escalator, joining the queue of other COSMO employees on their way to lunch.

As she leaves for the third floor, Honggi wastes no time to give her a little wave, before going on his way to the cafeteria before his tummy alerts him of his primal necessities after their thrilling “intermission.”

In this moment of enthusiasm, another thought pops in his mind. Perhaps, he ought to text Jiwoo and give her a little tease about what she missed, that is if Chaeyeon has yet to spill the tea first about their little adventure.

If he’s lucky enough, maybe he can even demonstrate it to her after work. Chaeyeon may definitely be pleased with that. = = =

it may not be as good as the previous ones, but I still hope you liked this one. there will be one more mini chapter of this before the third one. In the meantime, I'll be writing shorter one-shots next time (as in 1k-3k fics, hopefully), if I'm not updating any of my series yet. and yeah, that's it for now. thanks for the read & have a nice day!

[earlysunshines]

drive me crazy!

pham hanni x fem!reader ; angst, fluff

synopsis: hanni can bear physical touch—unless it’s from you and is oblivious to why that is, oblivious to only her.

warnings: sixth!member reader ; cute and FLUFFY YAAYYY!!!! ; my girl... pls why r u stupid my cute little idiot ; a lil angsty ; idk anything else i didn't mention ; oh um... rly jdashfasd iffy on how the pacing is plus the pining and like everything... was supposed to be short and cute but then i made it more LOL ; not proofread (i don't like reading if u couldn't tell)

a/n: short, silly, cute, lovely, adorable (so hanni) anyways HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! to gf!! also now all the members i write for have a sixth!member reader fic LOL

hanni has always been fine with physical touch, she kind of has to be considering she’s friends with danielle and hyein.

she lets them drag her by the arm, cling onto her, and whatever else that they desire because that’s just how they are. hanni is fine with this, she’s fine with anything the members do.

but you? you’re a whole different story and she has no clue why.

the slightest amount of physical contact from you sends her spiralling, she can’t think right the moment your shoulders graze or fingers brush against one another. her palms go sweaty, her breath gets short, and her face warms up; hanni tends to be more distant when it comes to you.

maybe it's the way you do it so effortlessly, plus that little smirk on your face that renders her dumber than she already is. maybe it's because your hands are always so warm that it makes her flinch away, or maybe it's something more. but this could mean nothing, right?

--

exhibit a:

hanni wasn’t always wary of your touch. there was a point in time where she’d give you hugs without thinking, let you lean on her shoulder or lean on yours, even intertwine fingers during livestreams or just spontaneously because why not?

one night, while in spain during your time recording for the new ep, you two had been put into a room together. there had been two beds, but you wanted to hangout near hanni while you doom scrolled and texted your friends. hanni let you linger there, neither of you had made any physical contact during the time until you mindlessly put your leg over hers, linking it.

while you went on your phone hanni would glance at you, she didn’t know why. you caught her in the midst of it, interrupted her while she traced the curve of your lips and she could only blush.

“is there something on my face?”

hanni still stares, not answering for a bit until a few seconds pass.

“no, i just zoned out.”

“okay...?” you ignore it with a chuckle, returning to your phone.

after hours of scrolling, you yawn, your phone falling somewhere on the bed as the hours of recording and singing throughout that day had caught up to you.

you fell asleep first, your breathing soft and steady, while hanni lay beside you, wide awake. she didn’t mind though. you hadn't moved to your bed, and hanni isn't strong enough to carry you (she's smaller and shorter, that's quite given; you tease her endlessly for it). she couldn’t bring herself to wake you up, watching the peaceful way you drifted off. she felt warm next to you, like it was the most natural thing in the world to be here, sharing this moment. eventually, she let her eyes close too, not bothering to move. she liked the closeness.

the two of you fell asleep beside each other on your backs, your hands barely touching and a leg tangled with the other.

when you woke up, the first thing you noticed was how you were wrapped around her. your arm was draped over her waist, your body molded against hers, and for a moment, you were too comfortable to move. it was similar to the feeling of cuddling your pillow at night in the dorms, but instead with hanni. you really liked the feeling of her in your arms, weirdly enough.

hanni was awake now too, but she hadn’t shifted yet. instead, she lay still, her heart beating faster as she became hyperaware of the closeness between you two. she could feel your warmth, every breath, every slight movement, and it made her feel bubbly and panicked.

hanni wasn’t used to feeling this way, like her entire body was on edge, but in the best way possible. being this close to you—it made everything feel different, more intense. physical touch isn't new to her in the slightest, considering all the members are a little touchy (danielle is a whole different story), but she's never felt this way with you or any of the other members. her thoughts were running a mile a minute, and she couldn’t help but steal glances at your face, admiring how soft and peaceful you looked in the morning light. her nerves kicked in when she realized how close your lips were to her shoulder, how intimate this all suddenly felt.

fuck, hanni thought. everything felt so perfect, but this only made her more wary.

and then you stirred, slowly waking up again, your eyes fluttering open. when your gaze landed on her, your lips curved into the softest, sleepiest smile, and it made her heart skip a beat.

“morning han,” you mumble, your voice raspy with sleep as you reach up to gently caress her face. your thumb brushes her cheek, and she can’t help but lean into your touch, her skin tingling from the simple gesture.

hanni can't breathe. her lips part, and then she closes her mouth to tense her jaw.

“you’re so pretty in the morning,” you say, still groggy but sincere. "how are you real?"

hanni’s face flushes immediately, her heart doing flips as she stares at you, wide-eyed. “you can’t just say things like that,” she murmurs, trying to suppress a smile, feeling shy all of a sudden.

you chuckle softly, your hand still resting on her cheek, not wanting to pull away. “why not? it’s true.”

hanni wants to pull away, it's too much. she feels like her heart might just escape from her chest.

the way you look at her, sleepy but affectionate, makes her feel weirdly nervous in the best way. the closeness, the intimacy—it’s overwhelming, but in a way that makes her want to stay right there, wrapped up in you.

but she can't, the pit in her stomach doesn't let her.

she shifts away, turning and groaning playfully as she stretches. she checks her phone, the time saving her from this situation.

"shit, we should be getting up soon."

you frown, hand resting on hanni's waist still until she sits up and rubs her eyes. "do we have to?" you ask, wanting to stay in bed a little longer with her in your arms. something about being so close to her and her specifically makes you really content.

"we have to get to the location, eat, get ready, recording—you know, all that."

you pout, rolling away from her and finding a pillow to replace her warmth.

"five more minutes?"

"fine..." hanni huffs, looking at you fondly. she can't tell if she's fond of the weird rush you give her either.

—

exhibit b

hanni is in the middle of vlogging, setting up her phone on the counter as she stirs something on the stove. her voice is light, a little bubbly, as she explains what she’s making for dinner, though she’s focused on keeping everything smooth for the video.

the phone drops and she groans, biting her lip subtly as she sets it back up, returning to her little commentary.

“so, i’m just letting this simmer for a bit,” she says, leaning closer to the pot, “and then i’ll—”

before she can finish, you come up behind her, wrapping your arms around her waist. she gasps, then freezes for a second, her whole body stiffening as your head gently rests on her shoulder. she can feel your warmth instantly, she can smell your signature sweet perfume, and the sudden contact makes her heart jump into her throat.

your arms pull her close, and her cheeks heat up as if the stove’s flames were warming her directly. she knows she’s still on camera, but for a moment, she can barely remember what she was even talking about.

“hey,” you mumble softly, voice low and a bit tired, but sweet. “what are you making?”

hanni’s grip on the spoon tightens, and she laughs awkwardly, trying to play it cool. “uh, j-just… dinner,” she manages, her voice a little higher than usual. her brief stutter earns a punch to herself (mentally of course) and she cringes internally. her brain is short-circuiting from the feel of you pressed against her back, your head so close to hers. she swears her face is probably bright red by now. there is no way this is getting cut out, especially not with the popularity you two have as a duo.

you lift your head from her shoulder, standing beside her but still lingering close, your arm brushing against hers. hanni tries her best to focus on the camera, forcing herself to talk about the food again, but it’s so difficult with you right there, looking effortlessly adorable after coming back from your shoot. you’re in casual clothes, but there’s something about the way you look—tired but still glowing—that makes her even more flustered.

“you look cute,” she hears you say softly, just loud enough for her to hear but not for the camera, and it completely throws her off. you look her dead in the eye, your gaze dropping to her lips and then back up as you smile. she almost drops the spoon, quickly looking at the camera and then back at the food, trying to regain her composure. her mind is a mess. how is she supposed to vlog when you’re like this?

“uh—thank you,” hanni stammers, her cheeks fully tinted pink now. she tries to laugh it off, stirring the pot with more focus than necessary, but the tension in her shoulders gives her away.

you chuckle softly, leaning a little closer to check what she’s making. “need help?”

hanni shakes her head quickly, eyes wide as she glances at you, then back at the camera. “n-no! i’m good, totally fine,” she insists, though her flustered state says otherwise.

“okay,” you hum, stepping back but still watching her with a teasing grin. "but if you need me to cut anymore veggies or meat i can! just ring me up! bunnies, did you know that i'm actually a wonnnnnnderful cook? i used to cook a lot with my parents-"

hanni lets you ramble, she loves hearing you ramble. she can't help but smile everytime you do, your voice is like music to her ears, it’s a symphony.

when you're finished with your ramble, you bring the attention back to hanni. "now back to our show!"

hanni lets out a quiet breath of relief, trying her best to wrap up the vlog—or at least this segment. “so, yeah! um, this just needs a few more minutes, and then dinner will be ready.” her voice wavers slightly, but she manages to end the video, turning off the camera with shaky hands.

as soon as the camera��s off, she turns to you, her face still red, and you can’t help but laugh softly at how flustered she is.

“you’re impossible,” she mutters, playfully swatting at you, but there’s a shy smile tugging at her lips.

“what?” you ask, oblivious to everything going on.

"i--" hanni pauses, shaking her head before flicking you in the forehead. "go change, dinner will be ready by then."

…

@/dailyyn on twitter:

“hanni and y/n crumbs! look how good y/n looks after the shoot… imagine being her gf and she greets you like this… id kill to be hanni”

the clip shows you surprising hanni, making her blush with your subtle antics and sharing the cute moment on camera. fans go a little insane partially because of your look, and also the chemistry between the two of you.

↪️@/tokkijeans: is it just me or are they really close? like.. suspiciously close

↪️@/ynslover: replying to @/tokkijeansi wouldn’t be surprised if they. were dating… i’ve never seen hanni so shy

↪️@/hanynenjoyer: this video is so cute! they’re my everything…

—

exhibit c

the studio was lively, filled with activity as the photobook shoot progressed. bright lights flashed intermittently, casting soft shadows over the set as you and hanni stood close, posing for the camera.

you two were in arguably casual clothing, but obviously topped off with some extra details because it was for a photoshoot. you couldn't stop staring at hanni, stealing glances whenever you could. she looked gorgeous, that wasn't debatable. her hair was styled in a way that made it a little wavy and a small clip pinned the hair that would frame her face back.

in return, hanni was doing her absolute best to keep her cool. the light makeup made your features stand out subtly, especially your lips (which hanni couldn't stop stealing a peek at), making you look stunning. you'd probably go trending on twitter later, hanni knows you like to upload selcas after things like this, and each one never fails to gain lots of attention.

(not just from the fans, but from your fellow member too.)

the photographers suggested subtle intimacy—small, delicate touches, heads leaning together, eyes locking in moments that felt almost too real. they had convinced you two it would fit the concept: domestic, casual, and comfortable. for you, it was easy to comply, maybe even natural, to slip into those roles. especially when it was hanni by your side.

your hand brushed against hers as you adjusted your stance, smiling to yourself when you caught her glancing at you. hanni was trying to keep her cool, you could tell—but why? her usual ease seemed strained, her body a little tense despite the casual poses. but you? you were just happy to be this close to her, to feel her warmth as you both leaned into the moment.

the photographer directed a few more shots, asking you to sit beside hanni and lean your head against her shoulder. you did so with ease, resting your cheek carefully on her shoulder. you could feel her freeze slightly under your touch, her body rigid against yours. you bring your hand over and place it over hers, rubbing your fingers gently against her skin to coax her back into relaxation—miraculously, it works.

you didn’t think too much the whole thing; after all, these shoots always required some closeness. but with hanni, it was different. your heart felt lighter being near her, warmer in a way that you didn’t feel with anyone else. you smiled softly as you shifted into the next pose, letting her lean against you this time, her back pressing against your shoulders.

she smelled sweet, like the faintest hint of citrus, and you found yourself wanting to linger there a little longer.

"you smell good." you mumble softly as the photographer readjusts his settings. "like really good."

hanni doesnt answer, she opts for pinching you playfully instead, earning a chuckle.

"what? you look really good too."

"shut up." hanni says, mostly for the sake of her sanity. "you're so... ugh."

the moment ended when the photographer had caught both of your attention again. you two stop bickering (if you could even call it that) and focus once more.

the camera flashes one final time, and the photographer calls it a wrap. as the crew began to clear the set, hanni quickly stepped away, her cool facade returning as she busied herself with adjusting her outfit, avoiding your gaze. your heart sank a little at her sudden distance.

you stood there for a second, watching her, a growing pit of uncertainty forming in your stomach. it wasn’t the first time this had happened. hanni had a way of pulling back whenever you got too close, a way of putting space between you that made you second-guess everything. you were touchy with everyone—that was just who you were—but with hanni, it was different. she made you happier, made your heart feel full in a way that was hard to describe. she was so adorable, so easy to be around, and sometimes you couldn’t help but think of being close to her all the time.

but now, watching her act distant again, you couldn’t help but feel a bit upset. was it something you did? were you pushing too far? but she's completely fine with dani dragging her around, haerin randomly leaning against her, and even she initiates the phsyical contact with minji. not to mention hyein, who's always clinging onto everyone — but that's hyein, she's like a younger sister to you all.

your thoughts spiraled as you bit your lip, trying to shake off the gnawing feeling.

hanni finally glanced your way, catching your gaze for a split second before quickly looking away, her face unreadable. you frowned, taking a step toward her. “hanni… are we good?” you asked, trying to keep your voice light, though the hint of worry bled through.

she hesitated, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. “yeah, of course. why wouldn’t we be?”

“i don’t know. it just—” you paused, struggling to find the right words. “sometimes, it feels like you’re… distant. like you’re pulling away. was the shoot too much? was i too much?"

hanni blinked, her expression softening just slightly, but she still didn’t meet your eyes. “no, no— and i’m not pulling away,” she said quietly, but the uncertainty in her voice didn’t do much to reassure you.

you narrow your eyes at her, trying to believe her. you sigh, running a hand through your hair. “okay. if you say so.”

the air between you felt thick, tense, and it was hard to shake the disappointment that clung to you as you watched her pack up her things. you wanted to be close to her, wanted to feel that warmth again, but right now, it felt like she was slipping through your fingers.

this left you spiraling even more, trying to figure out what went wrong. hanni walks over to watch the others, letting danielle cling onto her and not visibly getting nervous or anything like that. was it you? it had to be.

—

soobin was like the big brother you never had, and you were forever grateful for that accidental meeting while you were a trainee and he was a rookie—when he’d spilled his coffee all over you. it had been embarrassing then, but now? it was the reason you had biweekly catch-up sessions—usually over facetime, since no one in the industry liked to see a girl group member breathing the same air as a boy group member.

but today was different. today, the two of you were in one of the company lounge areas, sharing snacks from the convenience store and sipping on the flavored milk soobin had brought. he watched you quietly, eyes filled with concern as you sank into your chair, picking at your fruit gummies without much enthusiasm.

“have things been rough? are they pushing you too hard?” he asked, his voice soft.

you shook your head, your lips pressing into a thin line. “i think my coworker hates me.”

“as in… a member?”

“yeah.” you sighed, popping an orange gummy into your mouth and chewing it slowly.

“may i pry?” soobin asks, stealing a gummy from your pack.

you nodded. “yeah, go ahead.”

“who is it?” he questions, chewing his stolen gummy.

“hanni.”

soobin froze mid-chew, his brows furrowing. “wait, hanni? but— the internet’s always talking about you two. i mean, i know you can’t trust everything online, but i’ve seen it too. you guys seem close.”

“yeah, well, i think she hates it. all the physical stuff, everything i do…” you trailed off, sinking deeper into your seat. “am i terrible?”

the hood of your sweatshirt slipped over your head as you slouched, messing up your hair. soobin couldn’t help but giggle at the sight, tilting his head as he looked at you. “you’re not terrible, y/n,” he assured you, his voice steady. “maybe she’s just—”

“i think i’m in love with her.” you blurted out, groaning as you covered your face with your hands. “i’m in love with her, i think. no, fuck that, i know.”

soobin stared at you, wide-eyed. “you what?”

“i’m in love with her,” you mumbled again, sinking even lower into your seat, hands covering your face. “god, i realized it last night while i was sulking in bed at midnight. and now, everything makes sense. i want to be close to her all the time because i want something more. and i feel like a creep because—am i weird? am i… am i a predator for being so touchy with her? what if she hates me for it?”

he watched as your expression shifted from miserable to horrified, your body practically sliding off the chair now. his deep voice cut through your spiral, calm and steady as ever. “you’re not a predator. trust me. the fact that you’re aware of how your actions might affect her shows that. you’re self-aware, and you care enough to try and make things better.”

“but… this could ruin everything.” your voice was small, defeated.

“it won’t,” soobin says firmly. “i know you.”

“do you know her?”

he shrugged, smiling softly. “i don’t need to know hanni as well as i know you. you always get things done, y/n. you always work it out. remember when we had those dating rumors? you handled that pretty well.”

you groaned at the memory, but it did lift your spirits just a bit. the whole two-week ‘scandal’ had been absurd. someone had noticed that you and soobin both had the same roblox sticker on your phone cases in your selcas, posted just two days apart. it blew up online, spiraling into dating rumors that, frankly, neither of you could believe.

the whole thing was based on a sticker. a roblox sticker. beomgyu had given soobin the sticker, and soobin, thinking it was dumb and funny, gave you one too. somehow, the internet made it a conspiracy.

you had to lie, saying you barely knew soobin, and that you found the sticker on the floor of the hybe building, thinking it was funny. it was the only way to get the fans to calm down. soobin had to pretend he barely knew you as well, but the two of you had giggled over facetime because of it—which was great for your mental state while you noticed the forced hate towards you.

“ugh, that was so weird,” you mutter. “if only they knew we’re—”

“completely off the radar,” soobin finished for you, chuckling. “like some future lavender marriage if the media doesn’t get off our asses.”

you snorted at that, “gross,” but your smile quickly faded as the weight of your current situation settled in again.

he shrugged, his smile gentle. “i don’t need to know hanni as well as i know you to be sure of this. you’re the kind of person who works through things. you always have, and you always will. you’ve told me how close you two were during your trainee days—there’s no way she’d want to throw that all away. besides, isn’t it better to have her in your life, even if you’re in love with her, than to lose her altogether?”

for someone so stupid, he’s equally as wise.

you bite your lip, a sense of helplessness settling in your chest. “i don’t know,” you say, voice soft. “sometimes, i just want to pull away, distance myself so i don’t screw it all up, but… but then i’m around her, and she’s just so... so hanni. she’s adorable and funny and makes me feel so warm inside. and then i'm close to her, and it’s like this weird feeling that makes me want more, but… i don’t want to scare her off. i don’t want her to think i’m weird.”

you could feel tears of frustration prickling at the corners of your eyes, your hands trembling as you spoke. admitting your feelings out loud made them feel so much more real, and that terrified you.

soobin leaned over, placing a hand on your shoulder, his deep voice a steadying force amidst the chaos of your thoughts.

“you’re not weird,” he repeated gently. “you just care. and that’s a good thing. but you need to trust yourself, y/n. you’re good at this—at reading people, at figuring things out. if hanni ever felt concerningly uncomfortable, you’d notice. just... be careful. take your time. you’ll figure it out. i know you will.”

you stared down at your hands, twisting the edge of your hoodie in your fingers. the weight of your confession hung heavily between you and soobin, but there was also a strange sense of relief in having said it out loud—like you had finally let go of something you’d been holding onto for far too long.

“yeah,” you said softly, nodding. “i guess so.”

—

two days after spilling your alleged unrequited love to your wonderful, amazing, stupid, and very gay bestfriend you had gotten dating rumors with—you're sent to a prada show.

being one of the faces for the brand meant being sent to fashion weeks, shows, and various other schedules that had you showing off the designer brand. and each time this happened, you went viral, because prada never fails to impress, especially when it's you.

you’re set for a photoshoot, this time for the cover of vogue. the weight of it feels significant, but not overwhelming. you’re wearing a prada crop top that shows off your toned abdomen, the result of months of dedication and hard work. the black blazer and slacks, perfectly tailored, give you an oversized yet effortlessly chic look, striking that balance between casual and captivating. everything fits like a glove, intentional but laid-back.

you admire yourself in the mirror, your eyes tracing the sharp angles of your makeup. the subtle eyeshadow that makes a statement, the clean lines, the way it accentuates your features—you can’t help but praise the makeup artist, murmuring compliments as you run a hand through your messy, artfully tousled hair. it’s wild but controlled, you snap a picture quickly for your fans.

when it’s time, you step onto the set, the bold red backdrop making you stand out even more. the lights hit just right, casting shadows that emphasize your figure, and for a moment, as you strike the first pose, you think to yourself: wow, this is for the girls.

after shooting is done, you monitor your pictures and are caught off guard from how great they look. you weren't that confident about oyu rvisuals back then, singing and dancing you could od well, but visuals got to your head. you've learned to love yourself more the more your members and the internet praised you, but mostly because hanni used to compliment you a lot even with your bare face, you wish she still did it.

"woah," you say, snapping pictures of the monitoring screen to post to bubble later.

...

hanni is sitting at the dinner table, a snack in hand as she absentmindedly scrolls through her phone. the dorm is quiet, most of the members tucked away in their rooms, and hyein isn’t around tonight since she's with her family. it’s been a long day, but she finds some comfort in texting her sister, filling the silence with their usual banter. she's distracted enough that she almost doesn’t notice the notification from the official newjeans account.

her thumb hesitates before clicking on it, already assuming it’s something from your vogue shoot. everyone knew you were out for the day, busy with your big shoot, so it seemed natural. but what she didn’t expect was how stunning you’d look.

the first picture stops her cold. you’re lounging on some plush couch, leaning back with that casual confidence she’s only ever seen in person—half smirk, half knowing gaze. hanni’s heart stumbles in her chest. you look beyond good. you’re breathtaking. the makeup, perfectly done but not too much, the messy hair that somehow looks effortlessly styled—it’s too much. she gulps without even realizing, eyes locked on the screen as she stares for longer than she cares to admit.

thirty seconds go by, maybe more, before she hesitantly swipes to the next slide. each new picture draws her in further, and it’s not getting any easier to look away. you’re a vision in every shot, and her chest tightens with each one. she knows she’s been trying to distance herself, trying to get her feelings under control, but how is she supposed to do that when just seeing you on her screen makes her lose her cool like this?

“you’ve been staring at that for a while, haven’t you?” danielle’s voice cuts through her thoughts, light and teasing. hanni jumps in her seat, turning to see danielle settling in next to her. she leans over, her eyes landing on the picture of you still displayed on hanni’s phone. “she looks pretty.” danielle adds.

“um, yeah,” hanni mutters, hurriedly swiping out of instagram, but the heat in her cheeks is unmistakable. she sets her phone down as if that’ll somehow help her case.

danielle smirks, raising an eyebrow as she gives her a sidelong glance. “you seemed to like that post, huh?”

“i was just… zoning out,” hanni tries, but the uncertainty in her voice betrays her. it sounds unconvincing even to her own ears.

“seemed like more than that to me.” danielle’s voice is light, playful, but there’s a glint in her eye that says she knows exactly what’s going on.

hanni lets out a forced laugh, trying to brush it off. “what are you even saying?”

“i’m saying,” danielle starts, leaning in just a bit closer, “that it’s quite odd of you to stare so hard at her. not just at her on the cover of vogue, but in general.”

hanni swallows hard, trying to play it cool, but the flutter in her chest tells her otherwise. danielle’s right, and the worst part is, she can’t even deny it.

danielle’s eyes linger on hanni, clearly not buying her act. hanni feels the pressure building, but she stays silent, forcing a simple shrug as if nothing’s wrong. she knows danielle is waiting for her to crack, but she’s not ready to let everything spill. not yet.

"so…" danielle starts, her voice teasing but gentle, “you’re really gonna act like that wasn’t you staring at y/n’s photos for, what, five minutes?”

hanni scoffs, though it sounds forced. “it wasn’t five minutes, and i wasn’t staring like that.”

danielle crosses her arms, eyes narrowing in playful suspicion. “right. sure you weren’t. you only jumped like i caught you doing something illegal.”

“i was just… scrolling,” hanni mutters, turning her attention back to her phone, trying to seem unbothered. she swipes through random apps, but danielle’s quiet presence next to her makes it impossible to focus on anything else.

“scrolling, huh? that’s what you’re going with?”

“yep.”

“uh-huh. so if i ask again why you were so focused on y/n, you’re gonna say… what?”

hanni huffs, leaning back in her chair. “danielle, it’s not a big deal. i just zoned out, okay? she’s my friend. we work together. seeing her on my feed isn’t weird.” her tone is defensive, too defensive for her liking.

danielle raises her eyebrow, unrelenting. “zoning out on the same picture for thirty seconds? then the next one? and the one after that? you sure it’s nothing?”

hanni’s lips press into a thin line, irritation bubbling up, though it’s more with herself than with danielle. why is this so hard? why can’t she just brush it off? but danielle is looking at her with that piercing, curious gaze, and hanni knows she’s not letting it go. plus, it's danielle.

“you’re imagining things,” hanni tries, though her voice wavers.

“am i?” danielle leans forward slightly, her tone is soft but persistent. “because i know what i saw. and this isn’t the first time you’ve been weird about y/n.”

hanni blinks, her guard starting to slip. “what do you mean ‘weird’?”

“you’ve been acting strange around her for a while now,” danielle points out. “you avoid her, then get all flustered when she’s near. and now you’re sitting here, staring at her photos like you’re in a trance. come on, hanni. something’s up.”

hanni clenches her jaw, trying to hold onto the last bits of defense she has. “it’s… it’s not like that. she’s just—”

“just what?” danielle cuts in, her voice more patient than accusing. “you can tell me. whatever it is, i’m not judging.”

hanni sighs, her resolve beginning to crumble under danielle’s persistent questions. she opens her mouth, but no words come out, her mind racing to come up with some kind of excuse, something that’ll make danielle drop it. but there’s nothing, and hanni knows it.

danielle’s watching her closely now, not pushing too hard but clearly waiting for hanni to finally let it out. “hanni, it’s okay. i’m not gonna force you to talk if you don’t want to. but i’m just saying, i’m here if you need to get something off your chest.”

hanni bites her lip, her heart pounding in her chest. she can feel the words bubbling up, the truth she’s been trying so hard to suppress. but how can she admit it? how can she explain that being near you makes her feel like her heart is about to burst, that every touch and smile from you sends her into a spiral? she's beyond fucked.

“danielle, it’s not… it’s not what you think,” hanni starts, but even she knows how weak it sounds. she shifts uncomfortably in her seat, her eyes darting away from danielle’s.

danielle lets out a soft sigh, her tone turning gentle. “hanni, it’s okay to feel something for her. you don’t have to keep it all inside.”

“i don’t—” hanni stops herself, the words catching in her throat. “it’s not… ugh, i don’t even know how to explain it.”

danielle stays quiet, waiting for her to continue.

hanni rubs her face, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. “i don’t… i don’t know what to do. she’s just—she’s everywhere, danielle. i can’t even breathe when she’s around. she’s always so close, always so touchy, and it’s driving me insane. i can’t handle it.”

danielle’s expression softens further, nodding slowly as if to encourage her to keep going.

“and it’s not like i don’t like her or anything,” hanni continues, her voice wavering. “that’s the problem. i like her too much. and i don’t know how to deal with it, so i’ve been pushing her away. and now she probably thinks i’m a complete jerk, but… i don’t know what else to do.”

danielle raises her eyebrows. “you’ve been pushing her away because you like her?”

hanni groans, slumping down in her seat. “yeah. because every time she's close to me i feel like i’m gonna explode. she’s so—ugh. she makes me feel things, and i hate it. i don’t know how to be around her without freaking out.”

“so you’re in love with her,” danielle says simply, no judgment in her tone.

hanni freezes, her heart skipping a beat at the words. in love. she opens her mouth to protest, but the truth is already sitting heavy in her chest. she exhales shakily, realizing there’s no point in denying it anymore.

“yeah,” hanni mutters, almost too quietly for danielle to hear. “i think i am.”

danielle leans back, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “well, that’s a start. at least now you’ve admitted it.”

hanni buries her face in her hands again, feeling the weight of the confession settle over her. “what am i supposed to do? i’ve been acting so weird around her, and she probably thinks i hate her now.”

danielle shakes her head. “hanni, i don’t think y/n could ever think that. if anything, she’s probably wondering why you’re avoiding her. you should talk to her.”

hanni groans again. “but what if she doesn’t feel the same way? what if i ruin everything?”

“you won’t,” danielle says confidently. “you’re both close. i don’t think y/n would throw away your friendship over this. but you’ll never know how she feels if you don’t talk to her.”

hanni knows danielle is right, but the thought of confronting her feelings—and you—feels terrifying.

"and if it makes you feel better..." danielle continues, "i don't think the chances of her not returning the feelings are high. she cares for you a lot and she's not nearly as touchy or close with any of us—just you han."

"oh."

hanni bites her lip, fighting every worry in her head. as she does so, the root of her crisis returns home.

both her and danielle look up to see you sighing as you close the door, waving at them tiredly as you walk towards where your room is. danielle tilts her head, looking at you closely: your shoulders are sinking a bit, your hair is messier than before, and you look exhausted.

"how was everything?" danielle asks you, ignoring hanni beside her who's trying to recover from her feelings taking over. "your makeup is still intact."

"i fear." you say tiredly, rubbing your eyes. "it was cool, but they made me do a lot of promo and interviews. it's over now at least."

you glance at hanni, who's failing to meet your gaze.

"well," you start, "i'm going to go wash up and pass out. night guys."

"night!" danielle beams, smiling.

you look at hanni, waiting for a response. she finally looks you in the eye, then seemingly scans your face and hesitating before she also says, "night y/n, rest up okay?"

"yeah, of course han." you smile softly, waving to them once more before disappearing into the hallway.

danielle looks at hanni immediately after you're out of their sight, and speaks as soon as she hears the door close.

hanni just groans, hiding her face in her hands as she mumbles, "she looks too good i can't possibly--"

"don't be like that." danielle scolds, "it'll be fine."

hanni can barely look at you these days, the fact that she has to face you while knowing everything she feels is real and inescapable—hanni might be on her deathbed soon.

—

the room is warm, sunlight streaming through the thin curtains and casting a soft glow over the space. your blanket is tangled around you, your loose pajamas wrinkled as you lay sprawled across your bed. hanni stands quietly in the doorway, staring at your still form with a soft sigh. she knows she should wake you up; you've overslept, and the rest of the members have already started their day. but as she stands there, watching the rise and fall of your chest, something holds her back.

your hair’s a mess, sticking up in all directions, and you’re wearing that loose t-shirt she gave you months ago. it’s oversized, slipping off your shoulder, and the sight of you like this—so comfortable, so unguarded—makes her heart skip a beat. there’s something about how peaceful you look that makes hanni want to crawl into bed with you, to be close, but she knows she shouldn’t.

she swallows, shaking off the thought, reminding herself why she’s here. she’s supposed to wake you up, not… whatever it is her mind keeps drifting to. taking a deep breath, she walks closer and kneels by the edge of your bed.

"y/n," she whispers, poking your cheek gently. "you’re gonna be late if you don’t get up."

you don’t move, still lost in whatever dream you’re having and turning away. hanni shifts awkwardly, not sure what to do. she leans down and lightly pokes your cheek again. "come on, y/n, wake up."

nothing.

with a tiny huff, she pokes you again, this time a bit harder. "seriously, you can’t just sleep all day. you’re going to be late!" she whisper-yells. 

you still don’t stir, and hanni finds herself smiling despite her frustration. you look so... soft like this. relaxed. carefree. she’s really tempted to lay down beside you now, more than before. she wants to pull the blanket over herself and close her eyes, pretending for just a moment that things are the way they used to be—before all this weirdness between you two. she could pretend there’s nothing on the schedule, she quite literally has free will, she could do it and nothing would stop her. 

but she can’t. she knows she can’t.

instead, she pokes your cheek one more time. "y/n," she whispers, leaning closer. "please get up."

without warning, you move, but instead of waking up, you grab hanni’s wrist and pull her closer, dragging her halfway onto your bed. she yelps, startled, but you don’t seem to notice. you just snuggle into her, wrapping your arm around her waist as if she’s your pillow, your face pressed against her stomach.

hanni freezes, her heart pounding in her chest. you’re still half-asleep, clearly not realizing what you’re doing, but that doesn’t stop the warmth from rushing to her cheeks. she feels like she’s on fire, caught between wanting to escape and wanting to stay right where she is. your warmth, your scent, the way your body feels against hers—it’s overwhelming.

"hanni?" you mumble groggily, eyes still closed. "what are you… doing?"

"uh," hanni stammers, trying to keep her voice steady. "you need to get up. you’re gonna be late."

but you don’t move, just hum in response, your hand moves to loosely hold hers. hanni swallows hard, her whole body tense as she tries to ignore the warmth of your skin, the soft feel of your fingers intertwined with hers.

this is too much.

"hanni?" you mumble again, voice thick with sleep, your hand instinctively pulling her a little closer. "just five more minutes."

hanni can barely breathe, her mind scrambling for some kind of excuse to get out of this without completely losing it. she manages to slip out of your hold, her heart pounding as she sits on the edge of your bed, trying to compose herself. "you need to get up now, y/n," she says, a little firmer this time.

you finally stir, blinking up at her with bleary eyes, confused by the sight of hanni sitting at the edge of your bed. "hanni? what are you… what are you doing here?"

she shifts awkwardly, trying to keep her tone casual. "you were sleeping in, and i came to wake you up. the others are already in the dining room."

you sit up slowly, rubbing your eyes as you look at her. something feels off between you two, a tension that wasn’t there before, something bigger than before. you can feel it too, even in your groggy state. the silence hangs heavy in the air, the unspoken distance between you making everything feel… strange.

"hey," you mumble, running a hand through your messy hair, "we, uh… haven’t really talked much lately, have we?"

hanni glances down at her hands, fidgeting with her fingers. "yeah," she mutters, her voice soft. "i guess we’ve both been kind of... distant."

you nod, still trying to shake off the sleep. "i don’t know why it’s been like that," you say, your voice quiet. "feels like something changed, and i don’t really get it. i’ve been wanting to talk to you, to be honest.”

hanni’s heart tightens at your words. she knows why she’s been distant—because you make her nervous, because she’s terrified of her feelings, because she doesn’t know how to act around you anymore. but she can’t say all that. not now. not like this.

"i’m sorry," hanni finally says, her voice barely above a whisper. "i didn’t mean to pull away. i just… i didn’t know how to handle things."

you look at her, a faint frown creasing your forehead. "handle what?"

hanni shrugs, avoiding your gaze. "just… everything. i guess i got overwhelmed, and instead of talking to you about it, i kind of shut you out. i didn’t mean to."

you’re quiet for a moment, processing her words. it doesn’t really make sense, but it’s something. "i thought you were mad at me," you admit softly. "i didn’t know what i did wrong."

hanni’s heart aches at that. "you didn’t do anything wrong," she says quickly, shaking her head. "it’s not you, y/n. it’s me. i’m sorry for making you feel that way."

the two of you sit in silence for a while, the tension slowly easing as you both realize how much you’ve missed each other. there’s still so much left unsaid, so many things neither of you are ready to admit yet, but this… this is a start.

"i missed you," you finally say, your voice quiet but sincere.

hanni looks up, her heart swelling at your words. "i missed you too."

the weight of the past few weeks lingers in the air, but for the first time in a while, it feels like things might be okay again. even if neither of you is ready to fully address the feelings you’re both clearly harboring, at least you’re talking. at least you’re trying.

and for now, that’s enough.

—

hanni and danielle sit side by side on the couch in the waiting room, both scrolling through their phones. it’s a quiet break, the kind they savor between the chaotic schedules, but their attention keeps drifting to where you’re seated, getting your makeup done. you’re chatting softly on the phone, smiling as you talk to your parents, completely at ease in the chair.

hanni, however, can’t seem to focus on anything else. her eyes flicker over to you every few seconds, as if drawn by some invisible force. she watches how you laugh quietly, the way the stylist’s brush glides over your face, how you seem so naturally pretty even in this hectic setting. her mind is still spinning from your recent talk, even though it was brief. it lingers with all the things unsaid, all the questions still hanging in the air.

next to her, danielle finally breaks the silence.

"so," she starts, her voice casual but curious, "did you and y/n talk?"

hanni’s fingers freeze mid-scroll, and she glances at danielle, unsure of how to answer. after a moment, she sighs. "yeah, we talked… sort of."

danielle raises an eyebrow. "sort of?"

hanni shifts in her seat, picking at the edge of her sleeve. "we addressed the distance. like, we apologized for being weird with each other, but… i don’t really know where to go from there. it’s like, we acknowledged it, but it didn’t fix everything. i still feel…" she trails off, struggling to find the right words. "i don’t know. confused, maybe?"

danielle watches her closely, nodding slowly in understanding. "well, that’s a start, right? at least you talked about it."

"yeah," hanni mutters, but there’s a tinge of uncertainty in her voice. she glances back at you, still on the phone, still pulling her attention without even trying. "but it doesn’t really feel settled, you know? like, we just put a band-aid over it."

danielle sighs softly, leaning back against the couch. "stuff like that is complicated," she says, almost as if she’s speaking from experience. then, after a moment of silence, she turns to hanni with a teasing smile. "by the way, you’ve been staring at y/n this entire time. i can’t believe she doesn’t know that you… you know,"

hanni’s face flushes, and she quickly looks away, crossing her arms defensively. "i was not."

danielle laughs, clearly not buying it. "uh-huh, sure. i’ve been watching you. every time she moves, your eyes follow. it’s like you’re in a drama, and she’s the lead you can’t get over."

"i’m just… i’m just making sure she’s okay," hanni tries to defend herself, though the heat rising in her cheeks betrays her. "she’s on the phone with her parents. what if something’s wrong?"

"oh, please," danielle says, her smirk growing. "you’re just using that as an excuse to admire her. you’ve been acting like this for weeks, hanni. just admit it. remember her prada post?"

hanni opens her mouth to argue, but the words die in her throat. she knows danielle’s right, and that makes it worse. instead of responding, she just sinks further into the couch, burying her face in her hands.

danielle pats her on the back with a chuckle. "don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me. for now."

hanni groans, peeking through her fingers at you again. you’re still deep in conversation, oblivious to the way she’s been spiraling.

"you’ve got it bad," danielle teases softly, her tone more understanding now. "but it’s okay. maybe just… give it time. you two are good together, even if you don’t know where to go from here yet."

hanni nods, grateful for danielle’s support, but her eyes drift back to you. she can’t help it—there’s something about you that keeps pulling her in, no matter how hard she tries to resist.

—

it’s late, and the dorm is quiet. hanni sits on her bed, phone in hand, staring at the screen. she’s been thinking about you all week (she’s always thinking about you), the tension that had built between you two finally dissipating after your brief talk. things have felt… fine, normal even, but it’s almost too normal. like the distance you both addressed had just been covered up with another flimsy bandaid, never fully resolved. 

the problem is, she can’t stop thinking about you. and danielle, who’s oddly observant, keeps urging her to clear the air.

"just talk to her," danielle had said earlier, as they watched you laugh with the others during practice. "y/n wouldn’t let this mess up your friendship, you know that."

and now, as hanni sits there, her fingers hover over her phone screen, wondering if she should actually text you. she taps out a simple message before she can second guess herself:

hanni: you up?

the reply comes almost instantly: 

y/n: yeah, what's up?

hanni: can’t sleep

y/n: aw me neither i was calling my mom earlier and after that i couldn’t close my eyes for more than a minute

hanni: :-(  sorry to hear

hanni doesn’t know what else to say, but you beat her to the chase.

y/n: come over?

her heart races for no reason, and before she knows it, she’s standing in front of your room. she hesitates for a moment, then knocks softly before opening the door.

you’re sitting on your bed, scrolling through your phone. you’re worried that you scared her off again after being left on read. thankfully there’s a knock at your door a minute later, and when you see her, you offer a small smile. "hey."

"h-hey," hanni says, feeling a little awkward as she steps inside and sits on the edge of your bed. there’s a brief silence, the kind where you can both feel the unsaid words hanging in the air. she picks at her fingernails, glancing at you out of the corner of her eye. you’re still in your pajamas, hair a little messy, looking so comfortable that it’s hard to look away.

after a beat, you exhale, breaking the tension. "fuck this," you mutter, shifting to lay down on the bed, patting the space next to you. "come on."

hanni blinks, then, after a moment’s hesitation, lies down beside you. the bed feels small with both of you so close, but she’s trying to act normal, like her heart isn’t doing backflips just from being near you. you both stare up at the ceiling for a moment before you start talking, and to hanni’s relief, it feels natural.

you talk about everything—the group, your recent worries about the new routines, the photoshoots you’ve got lined up, how excited you are about the new choreography. hanni listens, nodding along, occasionally chiming in about her own thoughts. it feels comfortable, almost like it used to be, like there’s nothing between you but shared conversation.

"i’m really liking the new choreo," you say, turning your head slightly to look at her. "it’s intense, but it’s fun, right?"

hanni nods, her voice soft. "yeah, i love it. i think it’s one of our best routines."

there’s a pause, the kind that feels more like a breath than an interruption. she glances at you, and for a moment, everything feels lighter. like maybe this is enough—just talking, just being close like this.

"you’ve been doing great, by the way," you add quietly, eyes meeting hers, and suddenly both of you are all too hyperaware of how close and physical this is. "i know things have been weird, but i’m glad we’re good."

hanni swallows, her throat feeling tight as she stares at you. for a moment, she considers saying more, opening up about everything she’s been feeling. about how she’s been avoiding you because being close makes her too nervous, how danielle’s been pushing her to be honest, how she’s been daydreaming about you too much for her own good; she considers dropping the fact that she’s in love with you. but instead, she just gives you a small, appreciative smile.

"yeah," she whispers, her voice barely above a breath. "i’m glad too."

maybe it’s because it’s late and you’re too tired to keep pretending, sick of shrinking into some shell. maybe it’s because hanni is right there, looking like a dream, even more than that. maybe you’re young, stupid, and undeniably in love with her. the tension has been building all night, and before you can stop yourself, the words leave your lips, making your chest feel impossibly tight.

“i need to be honest with you,” you murmur, picking at your fingers beneath the blanket. “and you can pull away and leave after i say it.”

hanni frowns, sitting up slightly. “what?”

you swallow hard, the weight of your confession heavy in your throat. you sit up and put your face in your hands. “hanni, i like you. i like you the way people do in love songs. i like you like people yearn for each other in half the songs on your playlist. i don’t know any other way to say it, i’m—i’m sorry.”

there’s a beat of silence, a long, agonizing pause where you feel your heart shrinking into itself. hanni stares at you, her brows twitching, mouth slightly open, and all you can do is pray that this isn’t the moment everything falls apart.

“are you serious?”

you flinch. “i’m sorry—”

“no, no.” hanni shakes her head, turning away to stare up at the ceiling, hands covering her face. "i need a minute."

your heart shatters, the weight of rejection sinking deep. “hanni, i’m so sor—”

“don’t be.” she lifts her hands just enough to show her forehead, a wide smile breaking across her face. "oh my god. i like you too. i’ve been trying to tell you, i didn’t know how. danielle has been telling me to confess for weeks, but i was so scared."

your breath catches. "wait—seriously?"

hanni nods, still grinning, and suddenly everything shifts. the tension that had been suffocating you both breaks, leaving the air light and giddy. you both can’t look at each other for a moment, the sheer happiness boiling up inside making you fidget, trying to contain the laughter threatening to spill out. it’s a nice contrast from the (what seemed like) years of pining.

your hearts are pounding, faces flushed, and the awkward energy between you only makes it all the more real. now you’re both sitting next to each other like two middle schoolers in love—something like that—giddy, flustered, and shocked.

hanni glances at you through her lashes, then covers her face again, laughing softly. “i can’t believe this.”

“i can’t believe it either,” you admit, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks.

for a second, neither of you move. then, on a whim, you reach out and take her hand, the touch sending a rush of warmth through your body. hanni turns to you, her eyes meeting yours with that same mix of nervous excitement. it feels like time slows down, the world narrowing down to just the two of you. and before either of you can talk yourselves out of it, you lean in, your lips meeting hers in a soft, tentative kiss.

the world stops for a moment.

when you pull back, both of you are breathless, grinning like losers.

"oh my god," hanni says, eyes wide, voice barely above a whisper. “was that too quick? did we rush it?”

you laugh softly. "probably. but i think i would like, die if we hadn’t… yeah.”

without saying anything else, you both lay back down, facing each other on the bed, your fingers still intertwined. it feels easy now, like a weight has lifted, and the giddiness that lingers makes it impossible to stop smiling.

eventually, the talking fades, and you both drift off, tangled together, feeling a sense of peace that neither of you had realized you were missing.

everything feels right for the first time in weeks---hanni in your arms, your arms wrapped around hanni, being close to hanni, hanni close to you---and there's nothing that makes you happier in the moment.

[ceilidho]

The catfish price things is giving me vibes of “I’ll make her pay for daring to play with me like that, I’m a god damn respected man” and then just stalking her for a few days until he finds the perfect opportunity to make the pretty little thing pay, maybe take *real* pictures of her, after he messed her up pretty cute, filled up holes.

"Oh, you're fine," John clucks, verging on dismissive when she tries to twist out of his grasp again. He yanks her back by her hips before she's managed to wriggle even an inch away, relishing in the sound of her ensuing yip.

She squeals from where she's bent over the back of the couch, little feet kicking out, her painted toes barely grazing the floor. Her pleas come out garbled, muffled by the ring gag in her mouth. It's more than fair after what she's put him through. As much as John enjoys the sound of her pleasure, he prefers this, only the squelching sound of her pussy every time he fills it up and her pathetic little mewls.

He likes the way she looks like this. Hands bound at the wrist, toes curling and flexing every time he bottoms out, still a bit too tight to take him to the root. She clenches deliciously around his length, tighter than sin, hotter than hell. Everything he'd imagined she'd be like in the weeks since they started chatting online. The only thing he's thought about since the first time she messaged him unprompted and he laid eyes on the sweet thing smiling back at him from the photo next to her name.

"Miserable little thing," he murmurs, fingers squeezing into her hips hard enough to bruise. He'll have to tend to those later when they bloom. "After everything I've done."

John likes to think that he's a good man, but even his patience has its limits. He can handle being blown off once or twice, but five times in a month? While still brazenly asking him to send her another month's worth of rent? If he's going to be taken for a sucker, then he thinks some taking of his own is well deserved. Earned, even. He's paid three times over for the wet peach between her legs.

No one would call him the most technologically adept, but what he lacks in know how, he makes up for in resources. It hadn't taken him long to find her - or, more accurately, it hadn't taken the intelligence analyst whose shoulders John had held in an ever intensifying grip long to find her. After that, all he'd had to do was put in for his leave and pack an overnight bag before plugging her coordinates into phone.

"C'mon, 'nough of that. Can't push a man this much without expecting him to snap."

She wails something unintelligible behind the gag, but he's long learned to tune her protests out. She'd been full of them when he'd barged into her apartment earlier, steamrolling past her. The display of innocence would've been more impressive if he weren't in such a foul mood, in no right mind to hear the woman that'd been bleeding him dry for weeks claim to have never so much as heard his name before.

He lets go of her hip just long enough to pull his phone from his back pocket, sliding the camera open and framing everything from the line of her back to the soft curve of her ass. The soft shutter of his camera is loud enough for her to crane her neck back, eyes going wide at the sight.

"Don't worry, sweetheart," John tuts, tossing his phone away and bearing down over her until he can run his nose down the sweaty line of her neck. She shakes when he widens his stance, seconds from letting his mind go blank while he thrusts into her like a rutting bull. "You'll get yours too."

[ruesol]

Hi can you please make boxer!Sukuna and boxer!Toji fighting for the reader's affection? Like they are close friends but when it comes to reader they just become competitive and rival to see who has her attention. OH AND THEY DO A BOXING MATCH TO SEE WHOEVER WINS GETS THE READER BUT NO ONE WINS AND THE READER TENDS TO THEM(sorry I yapped)

Of course I can <3

cw: fem!reader, light descriptions of fighting, jealousy and rivalry, not proofread (yet)

Toji ran his tongue along the cleft of his scar. His eyes raked down his face and pecs in the mirror as his Adam’s Apple bobbed in his throat.

He didn’t know why he was so nervous. Women usually fawned over him without him needing to give even a morsel of his attention. Free drinks at his side of the bar counter, hastily written numbers on lipstick marked tissues shoved lazily in the pocket of his jeans. He knew he was irresistible.

He just wasn’t sure if you, his friend and clueless crush, thought the same way about him. Blissfully unaware of how he’d constantly clear his throat to prevent his voice from embarrassingly cracking while speaking to you. He was so mortified the first time it happened that he didn’t look you in the eye for a whole week.

The man was tired of waiting and was going to ask you out no matter what. Friendship be damned, his feelings for you were growing stronger by the day, festering in the core of his chest every time you’d look up at him through your lashes.

While Toji was mentally prepping himself in locker room, Sukuna was sitting in the middle of the gym’s boxing ring, elbows resting on his knees with his head in his hands.

To say that he was in a dilemma was an understatement.

What’s worse than having an unrequited crush on your best friend? Knowing that your other friend and coincidental sparring partner, likes her too. For the past few days, Sukuna had his doubts that Toji had a crush on their friend, and it was soon confirmed when Toji didn’t help Sukuna up after defeating him in a practice match.

The dark haired man simply sauntered over to you, making sure to flex his sweaty abs as he wiped his face with a towel around his neck.

That sly motherfucker—

But Sukuna couldn’t blame him. He would’ve the same too. If it all came down to objectification, he would’ve happily posed for a cliche racy calendar as long as he knew you’d buy it.

“Can we talk?” Sukuna looked up to see Toji standing outside the ring. He was shirtless. He always did that when he knew you were coming over to watch a practice match.

Sukuna cursed under his breath as he got up, not bothering to leave the platform. His ego prevented him from feeling like Toji’s equal. His coach would never approve of his behavior.

“Look, I’m tired of pretending like we both don’t know how we feel about her.” Sukuna only shot daggers at Toji’s unfairly handsome face as he said that. The pink haired man was starting to think that he should’ve just gone to the nasty part of town to get a facial scar instead of tattoos.

He hated the way you’d always fawn over the story of how Toji got his scar. There was something so beautiful yet harrowing about seeing your eyebrows furrow and soft lips jut with a slight wobble over that man in particular.

“And I wanna let you know that I’m gonna tell her how I feel,” he added.

There weren’t a lot of things that surprised Sukuna. Hell, he wasn’t surprised when he realized Toji liked you too. Who wouldn’t? You’re a total sweetheart.

But Toji’s sudden urge to confess and seek a serious relationship was unexpected. Sukuna didn’t remember the last time the man had called a woman after taking her out on one date.

He didn’t want you to end up as just another number in his phone book.

“And sacrifice your friendship with her for a good one-time fuck once you realize that you’re thinking with your dick? Sure, go ahead. But just so you know, she doesn’t deserve that,” Sukuna angrily countered.

“Oh, shut up. You’re only saying that so I’ll back off. You’ve started treating me differently ever since you started liking her too. Well, just so you know, I’m not afraid of a little competition. It’s obvious who she’ll pick.”

Toji cursed himself internally. He didn’t want a pick a fight with his friend, but when it comes to you, he could never rationalize his actions. He angled his head and folded his arms, tucking them by his pecs, trying to be as imposing as possible, “at least I don’t ignore her when she’s feeling down.”

Desperate times call for passive aggressive and triggering measures.

Sukuna chuffs as rage fills him to the brim, vermillion eyes trained on his peer. “Well, since we’re both obsessed with her, let’s settle this like men. Let’s spar-no gloves, no helmets. Whoever wins confesses to her first.”

Tension permeates the gym much like the thick musk of sweat. Toji licks his bottom teeth as he glares at Sukuna.

“Fine.”

The two men walk over to the opposite ends of the ring, wrapping their fists with white bandages. Warriors getting ready for a battle that would determine their fate.

Over the years, Sukuna had built himself to be a formidable fighter, often scaring his opponents by the sheer mention of his name.

His image, of course, never intimidated Toji. Their staunch friendship made it easy for him to not cower under Sukuna’s larger frame and daunting gaze. They’d been through thick and thin together. A brotherly bond like no other.

Though, when you were added into the equation, things changed. Exponentially.

Toji felt like he was having an out of body experience when he turned down a woman for yet another one night stand, feeling guilty for what you might think about his habits. He started styling his shaggy hair better, trimming it out of his eyes in hopes of you seeing him as a kempt man, unlike the unpolished ruffian he used to be.

Sukuna changed his vocabulary when you complained about him swearing too much. Though there were a few slips of tongue, he’d apologize soon after, only to feel rewarded when you’d giggle and tell him all was good. He found himself truly changing when he debated keeping the stray cat you found while walking to the gym one day. That cat still hangs out at his apartment. Until he finds a suitable owner of course (and not because it makes him feel like you’re both raising a child together whenever you ask about the little rascal).

The two men harnessed their emotions in every punch, each hit impacting harder than the last. By now, there were red splotches of both their blood on the bandages. They couldn’t tell if it was a mixture or their own.

Toji had landed a particularly hard punch in Sukuna’s stomach when you had walked in, chatting Uraume’s ear off about some Greek restaurant you discovered.

“I’m gonna go call Coach Yaga. You try to deescalate the situation,” Uraume instructs you before jogging towards the office.

You gasped as you heard the loud thump. The men were too busy brawling to notice that you had walked in.

“Oh my God!” You ran towards the ring, hand stamped to your mouth when you saw blood coating your friends’ bodies.

Toji looked at you momentarily, sending you a quick smile before ducking away from Sukuna’s attack. “Hey, you’re here early.”

“Yeah, and I’m glad I did. Why are you guys hurting each other like this? Stop it!”

“Oh, just relax, we’re only practicing,” Sukuna cajoles as he lands a hard punch on Toji’s jaw.

You could only wince at the sound. “You guys never fight without your gloves. What is going on?”

“Don’t worry about it,” both men said in unison.

There was no way you could’ve stopped the fight by entering the ring. You did not want to accidentally hurt yourself while trying to pry the two fighters apart.

So you watched and cringed each time someone got a gnarly punch, bruising them like a peach.

Toji peered up at you through his sweaty and matted bangs as you placed an ice pack on his bloody knuckles. He hissed as you pressed the cold brick even harder, trying to numb the area.

The boxers rash decision led you to where you stood right now: between them in the locker room with an opened first aid kit sitting on the same bench as them. By the time Coach Yaga arrived to break them apart, both men had battered each other to a pulp. Sukuna was sporting a painful purple eye that matched Toji’s (mainly because it was given in retaliation).

Toji had bruises all over his chest and both men had sent each other so many punches that the friction from the knuckle bandages had rubbed their skin raw, leaving their hands covered in blood.

As punishment, Coach Yaga sent them both to the locker room to fix their injuries themselves, but you couldn’t handle seeing them wince in pain every time they touched something so you followed them in.

Sukuna groaned as he lightly touched his purple eye and you immediately moved to where he was sitting to attend to it. You grabbed another ice pack and placed it by his brow bone. His hand was quick to cover yours, preventing you from moving it away immediately.

“What were you both thinking? Did you guys argue over something?”

You were met with silence, both men sitting like toddlers who had been caught trying to secretly stay up past bed time. “I don’t understand how you both can be so immature.”

You try to move your hand away from Sukuna’s ice pack but his hold is rigid. “Let me go, I need to look at Toji’s injuries and my hand’s going numb.”

Toji sends a smug smirk to Sukuna when you turn around to dig through the first aid box. Sukuna only replies to his friend by baring his fangs.

“I didn’t expect this at all. You guys are friends,” you continued as you dabbed ointment on the small cut on Toji’s jaw.

The raven haired man gulps as your scent enshrouds him. It’s much better than the amalgamated miasma of bleach and Old Spice in the locker room.

All while Toji was enjoying being close to you, Sukuna scoffed internally while watching the scene with his good eye. Two could play that game.

“Hey, could put a muscle relaxing patch on my back? I think I’ve got a huge bruise there,” Toji’s head whips towards his sparring partner as he chews the inside of his cheek.

You nod sweetly, and the place the ointment filled cotton pad in Toji’s palm so you could attend to Sukuna instead. Toji watched with betrayed eyes as you gasped at the sight of Sukuna’s back.

“Oh my God, you’re right. This looks horrible.” You glare at Toji. “You really didn’t hold back, didn’t you?”

“Are you seriously gonna blame all of this on me? What about my face?” Toji counters.

“You’re right. I can’t just blame this on you. You’re both at fault for ending up like this,” you reprimand both men as you stick a muscle relief patch on Sukuna’s back. The softness of your hands makes him momentarily forget about his pain.

“Meat-headed oafs,” you mumble under your breath.

“I think I’ve got a bruise on my back too. Can you apply a patch there?” Sukuna throws a middle finger to Toji when you turn your back to them.

When you’re about to go back to the first aid box after applying Toji’s patch, Sukuna pulls you to him again, “I think I need more patches on my ribs.”

Exhaustion begins to settle into your bones, but you listen to your friend anyway. You’re about to leave until Toji grabs your waist and pulls you into his direction.

He looks at you with puppy dog eyes. “Can you massage my biceps? They’re very sore—“

“Hey, I think my patch’s adhesive isn’t strong. Can you apply another one?” Sukuna interrupts.

Jealousy bubbles in both of them and it threatens to spill out.

“I asked her for help first!”

“But I can’t reach my back. You can touch your biceps just fine—“

“Both of you shut up! I’m not your slave. Uraume will help you. I’m mad and I’m going home. You’re both such babies.” And with that you walk out of the locker room with a sulking faces and folded arms.

“This is all your fault,” Toji blames. Sukuna simply slaps his friend’s bicep and Toji’s lack of a whimper makes him scoff.

“You just wanted an excuse for her to touch you. I needed real help.”

“You gotta do what you gotta do to get attention. I’m gonna confess to her before you know it.”

Sukuna knows he’s being warned. And he knows he shouldn’t wait around for too long or you’ll be swept away when he least expects it.

[kawoala]

DRIVEN BY ADRENALINE suna rintarou. chapter 001 ; only in the movies.

< previous ; masterlist ; next >

২ 𓂅 ࣪ ೨ ; 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 (1,221)

২ 𓂅 ࣪ ೨ ; 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 (runa is very talkative, very minimal profanity, first mention of street racing, shy! reader, karasuno! reader, runa dressing reader in … provocative clothing so they look like they fit in, anxious! reader, runa + suna are cousins again — who’s surprised?? [hint: no one !!], social anxiety)

“Hi, I’m Runa! It’s really nice to meet you. I thought you weren’t going to show up at first, but now you’re here! You seem like a nice girl so far— my last roommate was a total bitch. Sorry, I tend to talk a lot about myself. Where are you from?”

You blink at the brunette a couple times. You’ve barely even crossed the threshold of the dorm, and she’s already bombarded you with seemingly hundreds of questions. Your mind catches up with you and you shake your head to clear the fog away. “It’s nice to meet you, too,” you say quietly, giving her a shy smile. “Um, my name is Y/n and I’m from Miyagi Prefecture. What, uh, what about you?”

“No way!” She exclaims, eyes lighting up. “I’m from Miyagi Prefecture. What school did you go to? Shiratorizawa? That school is really good at sports. Or, Karasuno, maybe? They’re also pretty good. I went to Johzenji— they’re okay at sports, but I never really paid attention to anything but volleyball. I was the manager for the boys’ club.”

“Um, yeah, I went to Karasuno. I wasn’t interested in any sports though, my focus was more on the arts. Choir, photography— stuff like that.”

She nods and hums. “Totally understandable. I mean, who wants to sit in a crowded gym full of sweaty people?” She shudders in mock disgust and you snicker quietly. “I sure didn’t. That’s why I was down on the court making sure nobody died from dehydration or anything.”

You laugh, but don’t say anything more. Her face lights up once more, like she’s just realized something, and she claps her hands together. “Oh my god! I didn’t even let you in the dorm yet. Please, come in, set your stuff down.” She steps out of the way and extends her arm, giggling.

You walk past her, glancing around the room. It’s not huge, by any means, but it’s still pretty nice. There’s two beds, two desks, and a loveseat in the corner that was probably a pain to get in the dorm.

You set your things down on your bare bed— your bag, a succulent plant your mother gave you right before you left, and a takeout bag that only has fries left in it. You were planning on giving them to Runa as a housewarming gift, but they’re probably cold now, so you decide not you.

“Okay, so,” Runa starts, making you turn to look at her. “A couple things to know; I talk a lot, which you probably already picked up on.” She laughs. It’s a nice sound. “I’ll keep my side of the room clean if you do. You seem like a clean person, though, so I doubt that will be a problem. I won’t bring anybody in here without talking to you first and I hope you’ll do the same.” She pauses and purses her lips as if in thought. “I think that’s it. If you have any, like, rules or anything let me know!”

You nod slowly, taking in her words. “Sounds great,” you say, smiling. “I don’t really know anyone here yet, so you don’t have to worry about me bringing people here. And I am a pretty clean person, so that’s not a problem either. Um, I probably won’t talk too much until I get to know you better.” You swallow. “Sorry if that’s mean.”

“No, no. I totally get that. I used to be that way, too, but then I was like, ’I don't really care anymore,’ so.” She shrugs. She opens her mouth to say something, but is cut off by a knock at the door. Both of your heads turn just as a piece of what looks like paper slips under the door.

You glance at each other, sharing a confused look, but then she walks over and picks it up. You watch her eyes go from narrowed, to familiarity. “Um, what is it?” You ask.

She flips it over to see if there’s anything on the back, then looks up at you and hesitates. “Uh.” She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear and holds it out to you. “It’s an invitation to a race tonight.”

“A race?” You repeat in a mumble, eyes scanning over the words quickly. ‘T-20. be there at 10 or don’t come at all pussies.’ Your eyes widen a bit and you have to read it again to make sure you’re not hallucinating.

“A street race,” she explains. “They’re, um, like, super rare to get an invitation to. My cousin is racing tonight, so that’s probably why I got one.” You look up to see her brows furrowed. She clocks your gaze and smiles politely. “Do you wanna go with me? It’s not very fun being the only girl there who’s not interested in going home with one of the racers.”

A street race? Like, a real life street race? Those are real? You thought they only existed in movies. Aren’t they illegal?

Hundreds of thoughts flood through your brain and you can feel the palms of your hands start to sweat. You swallow hard. “A street race.” A statement, not a question. “Aren’t those, um…”

“Illegal?” She laughs, but nods. “That’s why they’re invitation-only. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to. I understand. They’re not everyone's thing.”

You chew on your bottom lip, eyes falling back to the piece of paper in your hands. You applied to this college purely because you heard Tokyo was not boring. What kind of college girl would you be if you declined this invitation. With a deep breath, you nod. “No, I’ll go. Ten o’clock.” You glance at the clock. “Four hours to find an outfit that will make it look like I belong at an illegal street race. No problem.”

She laughs again, smiling so wide her eyes crinkle. “You’re funny, Y/n,” she says. “I think we’re going to be good friends.”

You smile back at her and, once again, she claps her hands together. “I’ll help you find an outfit, don’t worry.” She walks to her closet, then looks back at you. “How comfortable are you with fishnets?”

“Um.”

The two of you leave the dorms at approximately 9:30, riding in Runa’s shitty Toyota Corolla. You have to suppress a laugh when you see it because when she had told you her cousin was racing tonight, you’d expected her to have a nice car like you assume her cousin does.

You were horribly wrong.

When you pull up to the underpass, it’s packed. Actually, maybe packed is an understatement because there are probably over 500 hundred people present. Almost instantly, you start to sweat. Even in the short-shorts and deliberately ripped up t-shirt that Runa dressed you in. Saying you’re out of your element is also probably an understatement.

You step out of the car and a mixture of gasoline and exhaust fumes hits your nose. You try your best not to scrunch your face up, but it happens anyway.

“You get used to the smell!” Runa shouts over the loud music and constant revving of engines. Somewhere to the left of you, someone screams at the top of their lungs. You glance at Runa and she snickers, walking closer to you. “And the noise.”

২ 𓂅 ࣪ ೨ ; 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

@sahrii , @cherrysurf , @heartmaddie , @jpegarchives , @massacremars

@vertejay , @tiramizuloz , @gumims , @mybelovedvi , @chaotic-neutral-ig

@usbrous , @iheartamora , @iluv-ace , @xavlyzn , @velvetreds

[angeliteeyes]

It has been two weeks of restraint, yet my cravings for Shenhe content continue...

Hmm... Modern AU? Headcanons? You think she'd drive a car? Or would that be a bad idea in case she feels the sudden urge to ram straight into the guy that keeps break-checking her? Not that she'd actually do it, especially with you sitting in the passenger seat.

Oh, that thought got away from me quickly.

I LOVE MODERN AU SHENHE I LOVE IT I LOVE HER URGHHGHH ahem um. I've had a few ideas regarding her in a modern au thats been stuck in my noggin for ages. Here's a cheeky lil ramble sesh about her ehe

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

I fucking adore modern Shenhe (in case the everything else above this didn't clue you in).

To start off, I tend to imagine that she retains her (at least initially) withdrawn and cold nature as a result of both her difficult family situation and the fact that she's had to deal with so much unsavory treatment from others. That's also a huge part of why her physical strength—while obeying the laws of physics—still remains considerably above average. Between strangers who need to learn their place and her father's cruel treatment towards her, she's had more than her fair share of altercations over the years and has trained accordingly.

Because of her history and the fact that she, unfortunately, has to actually exist in society instead of hiding in the mountains, she's grown very easy to anger. On a happier note, it also means that she's someone who goes out of her way to protect others regularly if they ever seem to be in need.

This is where you come into play. She's so withdrawn and untrusting that she'd never trust someone who approached her first, but in your case? You looked so weak and terrified (whether you actually are or not) when a random person on the street started threatening you that she absolutely had to step in and save you. Even when it's over and you reassure her that you're alright, though, her caring instincts are stuck in hella overdrive. And thus, you somehow find yourself being forcefully escorted to a quaint little tea shop a few blocks away.

She understands logically that you're just a stranger. That you two only met a handful of minutes ago and, therefore, should have no connection or attachment whatsoever. But for some reason, she can't stop her heart from racing a hundred miles per hour??? It's a bizarre and completely foreign sensation for her, and one she's completely unequipped to handle. In other words, she's incredibly awkward towards you, so much so that you'd think she hates your guts if it weren't for the fact that she literally brought you here. She 100% stares at you in complete and utter silence with wide eyes and sweaty palms the entire time. Probably doesn't even remember to drink her tea and lets it turn cold, too.

When you try to politely thank her for earlier and take your leave, falsely assuming that her silence is her way of saying she wants you gone, she freaks out. Here she is with the one person whose presence she not only can tolerate but actively likes and look! Already she managed to fuck it all up. She panic grabs your sleeve as you get up to leave, but somehow manages to overdo it and, to her immediate horror, creates a giant tear in it.

But hey... if it gives her an excuse to talk to you more in the future, maybe it was fate? That's how she copes with it, at least.

I'm going to be real, I cannot imagine her flirting attempts going even remotely well. Turns out that her years of reclusivity do in fact have consequences, and oh boy is she feeling them now that she's trying to court you.

Side note: She does use the term courting. You can thank her aunt Xianyun for that, along with the countless horrendously outdated flirting techniques she tries to use on you over the next few months... and basically every other strange habit of hers that just screams Old Person. To be fair, it's rather endearing in its own unique way. You just wish that she'd stop responding to your texts in really ominous ways and adding out-of-place ellipses when you're just asking her if her day was good.

The good thing about her sincerity and serious attitude towards courting you is that, once she does sum up the courage to bite the bullet and ask you out officially, it is the sweetest thing you've ever heard. Like, so painfully sweet and earnest that your teeth might rot and fall out. She's never felt this happy before, this comfortable in another person's presence, so it's only right that she does her absolute best to make you understand that. If you start acting shy about it, there's a good chance that she'll just keep going on and on about how important you are to her without realizing that's exactly why you're too embarrassed to reply. What a cutie pie.

I feel like this goes without saying, but she will protect the fuck out of you as your partner. Of course, that was already the case before, but with you accepting her confession? Now you've got a living sword and shield attached to your hip 24/7. She's not really good at recognizing things like personal space unfortunately, so you might have to have a talk with her about that. Even if you do try to lessen her protectiveness, though, you won't have much luck. If she's not next to you with her hands latched onto you and pulling you away from "dangerous" people (a.k.a. anyone who even looks at you wrong), you can bet that she's glaring at them with her signature icy stare.

Another side note: I like to imagine modern Shenhe primarily wears two types of clothing; the first is sportswear. I don't even think she'd realistically have the patience to go to a gym and be around so many people, but listen to me!!!!!! Not only would she look crazy adorable in it, but it also fits her personality super well with how active she is. The other type of clothing I think she'd wear a lot of is super oversized hoodies. It helps her to blend into crowds better, as well as avoid drawing unwanted attention toward her physique. You'll know she feels truly safe around you when she wears something more showy around you without even sparing it any thought or concern, inherently trusting you with this more vulnerable part of her.

As for driving, since you brought that up... God do I fear what kind of demon would overcome Shenhe if she were to start road raging at a law-breaking jackass that pissed her off. It's an especially tough predicament for her when you're in the car with her. On one hand, of course she'd never drive recklessly while you're here to potentially get hurt. What kind of girlfriend would that make her? On the other... how *honk*ing dare that piece of *honk* do that to you?! Don't they realize you could have gotten seriously hurt if she didn't brake in time??? What a *honk*ing *honk* if she gets her hands on their sorry ass she's gonna *hoooooooooooonk*

Cough cough. Oops, okay maybe she went a little far. She hopes you don't mind her angry bursts of profanity now that she's freed from the Hoyoverse censorship Gods.

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Hi, I was wondering if you could create a scenario where reader is in the garden working and gets hot and sweaty and Donna just becomes a mess and when Reader goes to take a shower and undresses in front of Donna, she just devours her in the shower (smut pls).

Also could you please make Donna G!P?

Thank you!!!!

Yess!!!! Thank you for your request!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!! :))))

Heat

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem, gardener! Reader

Warnings: G!P Donna, smut, Minors DNI, fluff

Word count: 5,199

Summary: It's a hot day and you want to take advantage of that...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!!I love you all!!!

“Okay, okay... You don't like me and I don't like you either,” you said, pacing from one side of the garden to the other. “I know that you were born and raised here, with only one promise in your minds: to take revenge on the woman who took the lives of your ancestors. Well, it's time to decide who is stronger.”

Saying that sentence, as if you were really participating in a witch hunt, demon hunt, or something similar, you triumphantly waved the pruning shears in your hand with a sinister smile.

“Pray now, my dear enemies, because I’ll have no mercy.”

It might seem like you took your job as a gardener too lightly, but in reality, it was quite the opposite.

Luck seemed to smile on you since you were just a little girl, granting you an innate ability for plants. Luck? Oh yes, of course.

In a place like that, in that village lost between mountains, which didn’t know the world and which the world didn’t know, to have a skill beyond knowing how to sew or farm was to consider yourself lucky.

Your friends grew up with you, but none of them were left. Some married, others were sent to the castle to serve Lady Dimitrescu. Others, unfortunately, could not bear the thought of spending the rest of their days praying to Mother Miranda and the Black Gods.

In your youth, you had considered all of those possibilities. Serve, marry or surrender. There were few options and you didn't like any of them. You were never exactly the most faithful of the villagers, nor the most interested in men. You also didn't think giving up was something to be proud of.

No, you hadn't spent your entire life surviving hunger and the Lords of that place only to be dinner for a filthy lycan. Your life was worth much more than that, and that's how you wanted to be seen.

At first it might seem that knowing how to tame a wild garden could only lead you to be part of the castle's army of maidens, but you soon discovered that this curious skill opened different doors for you, the doors of the Beneviento Estate.

A monstrously large woman, a deformed fish man and a crazy man with a factory. Each and every one of the Lords was the reincarnation of any nightmare. All but one.

Unlike her siblings, Donna Beneviento was not huge, she didn’t live in a disgusting swamp and she didn’t experiment on corpses (you thought she didn’t, of course)

She was a lonely and sick woman, according to the villagers. No one who had the audacity to enter the forest and reach her territory had been lucky enough to tell it. You knew that there was no reason to think she wasn't as dangerous as they said, but she didn't seem as terrible as you had heard, especially after knowing her.

Yes, she could be a strange woman, not specially talkative, disturbed and embarrassed by her appearance. But, the danger word didn't appear in your mind when you offered to tend her garden.

Well, okay, maybe you had forgotten to remember that you were the cheekiest girl in the entire village and that an army of Lycans or nightmares wasn't enough to wipe the sardonic smile off your face.

If Donna hired you because of your ability to not fear the fear itself, or on the contrary (and as you later found out) because the garden of that mansion was a complete disaster was not important to you.

The point is you had been working for the Lord for almost a year, and for just over six months you had been totally addicted to her. Yes, you could not see her face, it was strange to hear her talk, but, without knowing how, she began to form a kind of dense cloud between you. A cloud of sexual tension you already took for granted since the first time you heard a shy laugh behind that black veil.

Did you always have to look for the most complicated woman? You couldn't live any other way.

Comments, mockery, hints that weren't so... After so much time behaving that way with the lady in black, you thought you should already be at the bottom of that beautiful waterfall but... No, you were still alive and that shy laugh was more and more frequent.

Were you playing with the most dangerous woman in the village? Of course you were, and you wouldn't stop until that tension dissipated, or until you died trying to get to know Donna Beneviento better, just a bit better. Well, quite a bit, well, until your smile could make her realize your addiction to her presence.

But even if you considered that little game of cat and mouse one of your favorite hobbies, you never neglected your work. That didn't mean that your drama queen skills didn't brighten up the boring task of making that garden stop looking like a jungle.

“Ugh, the sun has taken that warming thing seriously,” you sighed, running a hand over your sweaty forehead, looking at the unusual clear sky of that morning. “But that's not going to stop me,” you said amused, squinting at a corner full of weeds, to which you had already sworn revenge.

Taking off your shirt, leaving you only in a thin tank top, you continued with your work, even though the heat was getting more and more intense.

“A few rays of sun are not enough to stop me,” you growled, bending down to pull a tuft of damaged grass that was resisting your pulls. “You won't be able to beat me, you will never beat (Y/N), the Superhuman and Invincible Plant Warrior... Come on...”

With a strong tug, that rebellious little plant gave way to your hands, but you fell backwards to the ground with a thud.

When you caught your breath, you opened your eyes. The sun was very bright, but it was partially eclipsed by a black figure looking down at you, Donna.

“Superhuman and Invincible Plant Warrior?” the lady murmured, with a low but amused tone, or so you imagined.

“You can call me Plant Warrior, for short,” you said amused, standing up and dusting off your scant clothing. The lady laughed, causing your corners to rise again.

Was Donna really a hobby for you? Was she something else? How did you really feel about her? Too many questions.

“Do you want something, Donna?” you asked elegantly, but with that darkness shadowing your kind smile. “Or did you just want to see me?”

The lady shifted in her place, not responding to the hint that had become routine for a long time. The woman simply shook her head, confused, as she played with her hands in front of her body.

“Today is a hot day,” she commented with that hoarse, soft tone, damaged by lack of use, at least with anyone that wasn’t you.

You nodded, taking off your gloves and moving your tank top to give you some air.

“Yes, I think that if you varnish me a with gravy, in two hours I will be completely done,” you joked, now yes, earning another one of her shy laughs, one of those that you didn't want to stop hearing. “(Y/N) baked… Or better, (Y/N) in her sauce. What do you say?”

“I'm sure you're delicious,” she said, with a dark voice, making your smile grow even more.

“You think so?” you asked, getting a little closer to the woman in black, who made a move to back away, but she ended up staying in her place, as if regretting having made that comment.

“Um, yeah, um, I…” she stammered, clearing her throat and averting her gaze from yours, or so you thought. That damn black veil… “I think you've done enough for today, (Y/N). You are free to leave if you want.”

“Oh, well, I still have that dark corner over there,” you said, scratching the back of your neck, disappointed because that tension didn't seem to want to end, as well as Donna's shyness, which was surely preventing her from disappearing.

“It doesn't matter,” she whispered, shaking her head. “You're going to get sunstroke if you spend another hour out here.”

“I... Okay, okay, you're in charge,” you said with a sigh, with a more serious, sad look that you hoped she would understand. You were deluded, Donna could never understand the complexity of human emotions, but you couldn't blame her for that.

“Wait, (Y/N),” the lady said, running to your side when you grabbed your jacket, ready to return to your lonely cabin, to your life far away from Donna.

You enjoyed that abruptness for a moment and turned around in an elegant manner.

“I, um... Hey, I made some lemonade and... I thought you might like it... You know, it's, it's hot,” the lady stuttered as you walked back to meet her, eyebrows raised.

“Oh, sure,” you said, maybe too quickly.

The lady in black nodded elegantly and turned around, entering the house and timidly gesturing for you to follow her.

The sound of the clock was the only thing that could be heard in the old living room. Sitting at the table, you looked at each other in complete silence while your body refreshed itself with that delicious lemonade. It could be one of those situations that you imagined at night, but you knew it wasn't.

Despite being right where you wanted, next to whom you wanted, shyness appeared in your thoughts, quickly devastated by the impudence with which you lived your life.

“Well...” you whispered, playing with the ice in your glass.

“Well,” she repeated, in an almost inaudible tone, thus showing she was also nervous, like always when she was close enough to your mischievous smile.

There were no more words. The clock's hand was once again the dominant sound of that gloomy mansion. Luckily, the fact you had entered that place for the first time gave you the opportunity to spend time looking at each of those details. It was a huge house, really big, too big for just one woman and her sinister puppet who, mysteriously, showed no signs of life.

“So... Plant Warrior,” Donna murmured, moving the black cloth from her face to take a sip from her glass. You smiled, pouring more liquid into yours.

“Superhuman Warrior,” you corrected, tipping the jug into the lady's glass.

She shook her head and your ears were blessed again with the sweet sound of her low-key laugh.

“Have you ever taken something seriously?” she asked, with an informal tone, but retaining the elegance that was expected from her position as a Lord, something that… Well, it made the sinful sensations that ran through your body only increase.

“Hey, I take it seriously,” you protested, amused, frowning and crossing your arms.

You didn't know why, but that posture made the lady move nervously. You had forgotten that you were only wearing a tank top. Just to think that your shamelessly exposed body was making Donna nervous made the thoughts stop being lustful and become even more lustful. Stop, (Y/N)

“What exactly do you take seriously?” she asked, tilting her head to emphasize she was looking directly at you.

“To work for you,” you answered, hiding your sinister smile behind the glass of lemonade, which was beginning to drip onto your skin.

 Is that why the lady shifted again in her chair with a strange sigh? You wanted to think so.

“Superhuman Warrior?” she asked with a soft tone, implying that there was a smile forming on her mysterious face, a smile that you were dying to see.

“Oh, come on, I just did a little imagination exercise. In this boring village you have to find a way so the shadows don't kill you,” you explained, realizing your mistake immediately. “Um, well, not boring, because thanks to the blessing of the Black Gods and Mother Miranda…”

“Boring, huh?” Donna said, crossing her arms, annoyed by your careless words.

“No, no, no...” you said, moving your hands to emphasize your correction. Too late. “Not boring because… Well, because… It's, it's fun to know when you're going to die torn apart by a lycan and of course, Miranda's masses are very, very funny,” you joked.

“Of course, I'm sure you have a lot of fun,” Donna said, with a slightly darker tone and a superb posture, very attentive to your reaction.

Making a strangely embarrassed face, you scratched your head, searching in the deeps of your mind for some witty response.

“Of course, I'm laughing my ass off,” you said with your eyebrows raised, trying to maintain a calm tone, not being sure if this unusual conversation would serve to understand or study the limits of her patience or simply to put an end to them.

“It's funny,” Donna murmured, nodding, relaxing her posture. You looked at her confused. “I don't remember having seen you in the last… 10 masses.”

“No? Oh, of course, with that thing on your face it's sure hard to see anything,” you joked, closing your eyes because your way of being had overcome the circumstances.

Donna snorted, going completely silent for a moment, frozen in time.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, changing amusement for concern. She nodded slowly, resuming her movements.

“I'm sure I haven't seen you, (Y/N),” she whispered, her voice breaking, probably because of your unfortunate comment. “I would remember.”

You faked a smile when you saw that at least that time, you had emerged unscathed from your impudence.

“Yes, yes, the girl who snores in the last row, that's me,” you joked again, drawing another shy laugh from her lips from the lady in black, who shook her head again.

“You have no remedy,” the lady whispered, with an amused tone, which was distorted when your hand ran over the skin just above your neckline, shiny with sweat.

Noticing her incipient nervousness, you did it more slowly, leaning over the table to give her a better view of what seemed to distract her that much.

“Check it next time,” you whispered in a honeyed tone, savoring the words and the slight tremor that shook her glass as she looked away from it.

“Do you want me to prove that you are a liar?” she asked, regaining her composure at the indiscreet vision of your soaked body, of your… too noticeable feminine attributes.

“Non si può mai sapere,” you sighed, happy for having found the perfect situation to say that phrase that you had been rehearsing for days.

Donna laughed, moving her body subtly, crossing her arms.

“Nice try,” she whispered with a dangerous, somewhat dark tone. As always, it was impossible for you to know if a smile adorned her face or rather your horrible pronunciation had offended her. You hoped it was a beautiful smile.

“I'm doing my best,” you said, taking another sip of lemonade while raising and lowering your eyebrows mockingly.

“I'm not going to raise your salary because you learn Italian, (Y/N),” she said, imitating your gesture with an overwhelming calm, like everything she did.

“Come on, I've been learning for months,” you joked with a smile that looked like a pout. “I already know how to say hello and goodbye.”

“It's the same word.”

“Yes, but… What a word...” you said, shaking your head, putting on an intellectual face, something you didn't know how to do at all.

Again, her soft, velvety laugh reached your ears like the best of balms.

Silence fell on you like a heavy weight, one that forced you to lower your shoulders and your gaze.

“I would like to know something else about you,” Donna murmured, with a sigh inaudible to ordinary mortals, but not to you, who looked up surprised by that phrase that came from nowhere.

“Oh, um...” you murmured, a bit confused.

“Do you feel uncomfortable?” she asked suddenly, probably seeing your doubtful and surprised attitude.

“No, no, no, not at all, it's just that...” you said, with a fake smile, controlling the nerves that were beginning to rise through your heated body. “Well, I'm not used to you being interested in me.”

“Do you think I'm interested in you?” the lady asked, with a superb posture again. You frowned, but kept that smile. Again, she had gotten nervous.

“You just said you wanted to know things about me. That's being interested,” you joked with a dark voice, leaning discreetly again. “Or maybe… You are interested in other things about me…”

“Yes, I mean, no,” Donna stammered, uncomfortable with the indiscreet exposure of your sweaty body to her gaze. “Why are you that way?”

“What way?” you asked, feigning disorientation. “I was born with this body.”

"No, no," Donna interrupted, defensively putting her hands in front of her torso. “Why are you so...?”

“So…?”

“Uhg, so… You,” she finally said, shaking her head, her chest rising and falling due to her heavy breathing. Maybe you were pulling the rope too tight, maybe not.

You shrugged, with an expression of not knowing what she meant. Playing with fire, that was the greatest of your hobbies.

“Are you nervous, my lady?” you said with a sensual tone, with a look that could easily melt the ice in your glasses.

“Don't call me...” Donna protested, gently hitting the table with her fists. “… My lady. You know I hate it.”

“Um...” you murmured, pretending to look away as you moved your top to give some air to your heated body, a sight that Donna didn't want to miss, but from which she immediately looked away, embarrassed and shifting nervously in the chair.  “Do you know what I hate?”

“No,” the lady in black responded, with a dry, abrupt tone, thus revealing her obvious discomfort.

“The beautiful women who cover their face,” you murmured, with that slight hope that her nervousness and your impudence would have an effect on the lady.

Donna growled, looking away for a moment. She seemed thoughtful and the room fell silent again under your watchful gaze.

“Yes, I meant you,” you commented amused, leaning back in the chair, rocking it carelessly. Donna shook her head, crossing her arms again.

“You are unbearable,” the lady whispered, bringing her trembling hands to her veil. You widened your eyes, not believing your stupid words had any effect. Maybe she felt something similar to what you felt, even if you still weren't sure exactly what it was.

Slowly, that horrible black veil disappeared from your vision, revealing a beauty far superior to what you imagined. Perfect features, a face destroyed by a horrible scar that you barely paid attention to. Donna was so much more than you expected.

Your smile reached your lips and your eyes reflected the visual pleasure of her hidden beauty, an unimaginable one, which made you seriously think about whether it was really lustful addiction, or love.

“Just what I thought,” you murmured, feigning disinterest.

“What?” she asked, making an attempt to cover herself again, something you prevented by reaching out your hand and gently grabbing her wrist.

“You're beautiful, Donna,” you whispered, keeping your gaze on that bright eye, full of insecurities and fear of your reaction.

“Don't you get tired of lying?” she asked with a brusque tone, breaking free from your grip and leaving the cloth on the table, with a look of panic that predicted an imminent nervous breakdown.

No, that wasn't going to happen while you were there.

“Show me that I'm not lying, come on... Smile,” you asked with a pleading look. Your fun attitude towards life was like a lifesaver in the middle of the ocean. You weren't safe, but at the same time you were.

Her reaction was immediate and the light of her smile reached your gaze.

“You see? What a beautiful smile you have...” you sighed, holding her hand again at her nervous look, at that smile that was twisted by your caresses on her skin.

After a few moments in which the tension was already overwhelming, she released herself from your grip, from your soft fingers, standing up from the chair.

“I think, I think I have stolen you too much time, (Y/N),” Donna murmured, looking at the floor, avoiding at all costs looking at your face, or your body. “You should go home.”

“Mm,” you murmured, nodding a bit disappointed, tilting your head toward the window, where the sun was shining tirelessly. “If I don't get roasted along the way...”

“Wait,” the lady interrupted, grabbing your wrist just as you grabbed your stuff. “Ma, maybe you want to take… A shower, you know, to cool off. I wouldn't want you to get sick.”

“Oh, it’s a good idea,” you said satisfied, pretending to think of an answer you already had.

Again, silence. You looked at the lady expectantly, and she discreetly looked at the corners of your body. Poor thing, she had perhaps forgotten she was no longer wearing the veil and you could see where her eye was going.

“Ahem,” you said, stamping your feet impatiently, startling Donna, who shook her head as if she were coming out of a fantasy.

A fantasy about you? Hopefully…

“Oh… What?” she stammered, confused.

You laughed, shaking your head.

“Tell me where the bathroom is. Or do you prefer to wash me by yourself?” you hissed with a purr, leaning into her ear. She laughed, gasping displeasure at your flippant comment.

“Come,” she said simply, turning around elegantly and leading you towards the stairs.

You walked slowly, taking a curious look at the portrait that adorned the wall. What a horrible picture. Donna was beautiful in person, just the way she was.

“Towels,” she pointed out once in the bathroom, handing you said objects abruptly. You nodded passively. “And, well, I suppose you know how a shower works.”

“No, normally I wait for it to rain to wash me,” you said sarcastically, leaving the towels in the sink and winking at her. She laughed nervously, looking away from you.

“You never take anything seriously...” Donna whispered, shaking her head.

You blinked mockingly and reached for your top, which fell off you with a gasp of relief. Donna gasped in surprise.

“What are you doing? Can't you wait for me to leave?” she asked offended, looking anywhere except your now exposed torso.

“Do you want to leave?” you asked, walking slowly towards her, running a hand over the exposed skin of your chest. “I think you are comfortable here.”

She shook her head, unable to stop her gaze from going straight to your glistening breasts, sighing nervously.

“(Y/N), no...” the lady protested when your steps got too close, when your gaze went down her body.

“Mm, how nervous you got, huh?” you purred, leaving subtlety aside, taking her trembling hand to run over your bare skin, something that, fortunately, she didn’t prevent, breathing with increasing difficulty.

“You make me nervous, (Y/N),” she murmured, closing her eye due to the closeness of your lips to hers.

You brushed against them, caressed them without kissing them, making Donna squirm in frustration. Your eyes opened to study her trembling, the closeness of her body to yours. A smile spread across your face as you saw a deformity at the bottom of her dress, a small bulge that betrayed her arousal.

“Well, well, well... You still keep a secret, huh?” you whispered, biting her ear to distract her from the caresses that went down her waist until you touched her erection with the palm of your hand, caressing it through the fabric “A big one…”

“Stop, I...” she protested, moving away from your libidinous touch, one that made her breathing even more complicated.

“You're sweating, Donna,” you murmured, not accepting her nervousness, her embarrassment. “Maybe you should take a shower too.”

She shook her head, covering the bulge of her dress with her hands, trying unsuccessfully to escape your gaze.

“I, I, I, I'll wait for you outside,” she said, turning to hide her blush, her excitement, all those things that you didn't think she could feel with you. You resist, shrugging your shoulders.

“As you wish, but there's room here for both of us,” you hummed, taking off your underwear, letting it fall to the floor as a challenge. Donna turned slightly to admire the sight in front of her and ran out of the room.

“Next time I won't make it so easy for you,” you hissed to yourself, turning on the faucet and feeling relief from the cool water that fell on your body.

As if you hadn't been about to do something so dangerous with a dangerous woman, you washed yourself calmly, humming songs you heard one day. At least until the bathroom door swung open and you frowned.

“Cazzo, (Y/N)...”  Donna gasped, getting rid of her shoes erratically while her hands undid the buttons on her dress.

“Have you forgotten something, my lady?” you asked amused, continuing to rub your body to tease her even more. Donna growled, quickly undressing and entering the shower next to you, pushing you against the wall.

“Shut up,” she ordered you nervously, just before grabbing your face in her hands and kissing you wildly, unexpectedly. You smiled, trying to tame those anxious, erratic kisses, trying to grab her waist, rubbing yourself against her body under the cool water of the shower.

Everything happened so fast that you didn't even stop to think about your victory, the one that you matured for months, that you worked on in subtle and not so subtle ways until the brunette's defenses collapsed at the sight of your body damaged by the heat.

The kisses were tireless, the kisses traveled to every possible corner. There was nothing but you and Donna in that small shower, nothing but a simmering burning desire, one that tasted better than the most delicious of delicacies.

The caresses, although they were naughty, were also dedicated to exploring every part of Donna's body, a body always hidden by a black as dark as the night, like a veil that extended beyond the one that covered the beauty of her smile.

The gasps were camouflaged with the sound of the water rushing against the floor, the humidity of the cold water joined with your saliva mixed in those burning kisses, in the sighs, in the gasps, in the moans that came when her hips brushed yours, impatiently.

“Turn around and lean,” the doll maker ordered you, with a firm voice that showed the authority of a village Lord.

Had you been playing with her so much that she had lost her usual elegance and delicacy? It didn't surprise you, nor did you care, you just wanted to have her, her to have you. At that moment you just wanted to be for her, you just wanted to exist for her.

With a mischievous laugh and a defiant look, you obeyed, leaning over the tiles. It didn't take long for Donna to move, standing behind you, hugging your body, your breasts, rubbing, feeling, squeezing every part she could touch, every inch that now belonged to her.

“Please, my lady...” you said, biting your lip, bringing her hips closer to yours, rubbing her erect shaft, eager to explore your wetness.

“Don't call me...” she growled, giving you an unexpected hair pull as she discreetly fulfilled your wishes, entering you with a gentle movement, letting your body adapt to her size. “… My lady.”

“As you wish, my lady,” you teased, moaning at the feeling of her shaft running through your wetness, sliding between your walls without any difficulty. Donna laughed in annoyance, moving abruptly, probably as punishment for your audacity.

“You don't learn, do you?” she said, when your walls stretched enough to allow a constant rhythm, a wave of pleasure that your body accepted willingly, compensating you for all those nights when you imagined something like this.

You shook your head as you moaned at those perfectly calculated movements, at the feeling of her nails digging into your hips while hers moved rhythmically, stopping just when you needed it most.

Donna also stopped talking, replacing the words, the soft reprimands with tremendously sensual moans, discreet but eager, almost as much as her erection inside your body, wanting to touch every inch of your depths, wanting to mix with your overflowing moisture.

It was frenetic, terribly erotic and sensual. Nothing like what you had experienced before. You couldn't tell if those new sensations were purely due to sex.

Maybe in your life you were never so lucky to make love with someone for that very reason, for love. Yes, it was time to recognize the evidence. You were crazy about Donna. The question was: was she crazy about you? Her body said she was.

“Donna...” you said, with the sound of the water camouflaging your voice, not enough for the brunette to lower the intensity of her thrusts and moans, stopping digging her nails into your skin to gently caress your back, making that those little cramps you were beginning to feel to became more and more intense.

A moan was her response, while her hips resumed their movements so as not to lose the pleasant sensation of being inside of you, of sliding over your body as if it were hers. Certainly, it already was.

“(Y/N)... Sto per venire…” she whispered, changing that constant rhythm for a more erratic, more intense one, which made you close your eyes and let her hands hold your body while you let yourself be carried away by the sensations that, for you, were already enough for you to release.

“Fuck, yes!” you moaned when your orgasm finally made its way through your body, making your walls dance around her, thus causing her own release, which made a humid, burning heat contrast poetically with the cold water.

The water now only muffled your nervous breathing. Your body relaxed as Donna pulled out of you, making that obscene heat run down your leg, joining the water that ended its way into the drain.

Slowly, you turned around, kissing the brunette without giving her a second to breathe, hanging on to her body, caressing her cheeks, her waist, everything you could and your body allowed after the ecstasy.

“(Y/N)... I know I can be a… Killjoy… But, but… I'm in love with you,” she told you, moving away from your tireless kisses for a moment.

“I think that's pretty obvious,” you joked, making the lady shake her head, with a tired sigh.

“No, it is not. I'm not a woman who just wants to... Have a good time,” she explained, turning off the shower so you could hear her voice clearly.

“Well, we had a good time,” you continued joking, hanging on to her neck.

Donna rolled her eye with a tired sigh.

“If you don't feel the same, I want you to tell me,” she said with a more serious tone, cupping your face in her hands, implying that this was not the time to joke. It never was.

“Donna, I'm crazy about you.”

[strniohoeee]

Belong To The City

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT THIS IS A 18+ STORY BEYOND THIS POINT

Pairings: Chris Sturniolo X Female Reader ⚠️SMUT⚠️

Enemies-ish to lovers, friends-ish to lovers

Synopsis: Chris is such an arrogant asshole to Y/N, but when she snaps back he loses all control and pulls her to the side ⚠️THIS IS SMUT SO LEAVE ME ALONE⚠️

Warnings⚠️: This is straight up smut okay, so any young person PLZ PLZ go away and get off tumblr and go to bed please. Oh god what’s in here?? Manhandling, spit, mean Chris, crazy dirty talk. Mannnn idek this shit is intense, and I’m not even a Chris girl, but I put my whole pussy into this one

Song for the story: Belong To The City-PARTYNEXTDOOR

Right now I was currently standing in the corner of the living room of the triplets house as they had a party going around for completing the tour. It was mainly a celebration party for Chris, but Nick and Matt would never admit to that. However for me it was like my eternal hell. I absolutely hated parties especially ones full of all these LA “influencers” who were only here because they wanted to see who’s pants they could get into first. Same boring game over and over, so I stand in the corner at most parties with a drink in my hand observing everyone else, listening in on conversations and cringing at how embarrassing some of these people were. It brought me great joy, and I could ignore how badly I wanted to claw my way out this sweaty body infested house.

I went to take a sip from my orange solo cup, and noticed it was empty, so I made my way over to the kitchen. In there was Nick, Matt, Tril, Chris, Madi and a few other close friends of ours. Although I love the triplets, and they know how much I hate parties I always am on my best behavior for them!

“Yooo look who decided to join the party” Tril said bumping my shoulder. I just give a slight upturn of my mouth

“Haha so funny….” I replied back rolling my eyes

“Hey! Lighten up! Let loose, this is a celebratory party “ Tril answered back grabbing me by my shoulders

“You’re clearly very drunk, I’m having a great time watching all these people embarrass themselves trying to get into y’all’s pants” I replied back looking at all the drink options. My eyes light up once I see the strawberry Malibu

“Woahhh get into our pants?? Says who” Matt replies looking around curious

I pour a shot and gulp it down, and then another before I go to pour my third shot I look up and answer

“Nearly every single person in here” I replied down my third shot after pouring it

“You should slow down on the shots” when I bring my head down after downing my shot I lock eyes with Chris

“Ouu is the king of parties telling me to slow down on drinking??? Are you okay? Are you feeling sick?” I said laughing along with everybody else

“No I’m just saying you tend to get a little out of hand when you’ve had a little too much Malibu” Chris responded shrugging. To this Nick giggles and has a light bulb moment

“Oh my fucking god like that one time you drank Malibu at that one party and puked on that guys dick” Nick says giggling….he was completely sober, so why in the fuck was he saying such a thing. My eyes pop out of my head

“First of all not true, and second of all you guys always purchase Malibu knowing it’s my favorite and then get upset when I wanna have fun” I said back with an attitude

“Maybe control your liquor intake and you wouldn’t be choking on dicks” Chris retorted back laughing hard with Matt while they leaned on each other for support like it was the funniest shit ever

“I can promise you I’ve never choked on a single dick, and I also promise you I’ve never sucked dick while drunk before…that’s a rookie mistake fuck face” I say back throwing ice cubes at him from my cup

“That’s not how I interpreted it when you were gagging on my dick, but I mean hey” He said back with the most smug smirk I have ever seen. My blood was boiling, my skin was on fire, I was seeing white hot rage.

Back in high school Chris and I got really close one year. It was actually the summer going into senior year, and to say I had a crush on him was an understatement. I really liked the kid, but I knew he’d never see me that way. But for some reason we had a really romantic summer, and at the end of it we decided to be each other's first everything. That being said I had never seen a dick nor touched or sucked one, and he was pretty large, so I did in fact gag a few times. Needless to say after that summer we never spoke about it again, and we actually acted like we never liked one another after that, so there was always this weird tension here and there

“You’re such a fucking dick” Was all I could get out, I was angry but I was hurt mostly. It was something we swore we’d keep to ourselves, and here he goes airing it out to his brothers and our friends, and making me feel embarrassed.

“Chris not fucking cool” Madi said giving him a disgusted look.

“Oh come on it was a harmless joke I swear” He said acting shocked that nobody liked what he said

“You fucking idiot you always take shit too far” Nick said smacking him in the back of his head. I looked over to Chris with no emotions

“No, honestly it’s fine he can’t eat pussy for shit, and when I did let him go down on me he was crying from all the emotions, talking about some “aww you’re wet for me” pfft you wish….hes a fucking joke in bed” I responded giving him a bitchy smile. Everyone’s jaw dropped and Chris just clenched his jaw and scoffed. He pushed himself off the edge of the sink and walked over to me. He grabbed me by my upper arm and yanked me hard towards the direction of his room downstairs. As he was walking me with him harshly like a scolded child all I could hear was laughing and and them going “OUUUU” like I was some school delinquent getting told to step out of class.

Chris firmly walks me down the steps into his room slamming the door shut behind us. All that could be heard now was PARTYNEXTDOOR blasting from upstairs. When he’s a little more into his room he fully throws me down to the floor, and I fall smacking against the wooden floors.

“Ouch you fucking prick, I’m not a fucking ragdoll” I said as I get myself up and try to shake off the embarrassment.

“Yeah? Well you ain’t shit to me after that little stunt you pulled up there” he said towering over me by a few inches.

“Oh me? I’m the bad guy?? Yeah let’s not play victim” I said back to him crossing my arms over my shoulder

“Oh no let’s not! But let's tell the truth shall we” Chris stated back flashing his white smile. I go to cut him off, but he immediately speaks loudly over me.

“Truth is you did choke on my dick because it’s too big and you can’t take it, truth is you were the one crying when I was going down on you, you were fucking trembling and shaking moaning like a little bitch…..fucking thighs shaking like a complete untouched virgin” He said laughing at me now with his arms crossed over his chest

“We can fake orgasms you know” I told him sizing him up

“When your cum was dripping down my chin? Yeah that wasn’t fake mama, and the way you just laid there limp like a fucking used slut” He responded laughing in my face. God why were his words making me hot and bothered? WHEN DID CHRIS BECOME SO FUCKING HOT?

“Fuck you” was all I could manage because I was genuinely getting turned on by the way he was treating me and the memories of him abusing my pussy.

“Yeah you wish” Chris said rolling his eyes

“I’m not 17 anymore I’ve got experience now, I bet you couldn’t make me cum” I told him…well more like challenging him.

“Please I’d have you used and abused by the end of this party babe” he said stepping closer. Fuck this man really got it….

“Is that a bet?” I asked, raising my brow with my arms crossed over my chest. He roughly grabbed my hands smacking them out the way and grabbed me harshly by neck pulling me in for a kiss. Our lips smashed together just tongue and teeth fighting for dominance, it was hot and it was messy.

He turned us and had us back peddling to his bed. Once my shoes hit the edge he pushed me back, as I laid back he pulled his shirt off along with his hat. I decided to take my shirt off as well

“Fuck Chris you’re so hot when you’re not speaking” I said to him as he came lower to continue kissing me

“Could say the same about you too” He said as nudged my head up and started to leave wet kisses all down my neck to my breast. He stopped and lifted back to look at me

“I can’t wait to have you moaning and weeping on my cock” He said with his droopy eyes lazily looking over me. I just grabbed him by his chain and pulled him forward to continue kissing him. He had me lift up so he could remove my bra. Once my bra was off he separated from my mouth to look down at my chest. His eyes shimmered. I will say I had a last minute puberty incident at 17 I was a size C, but now at 21 I’m a size DD.

“Since when did you get boobs” He asked, laughing while kneading them and moaning a little bit. I let out a sigh/whimper at the feeling of his large hands caressing my breasts.

“Don’t be a fucking weirdo” I said back to him rolling my eyes. He just chuckled and came down to take one of my hard nipples into his mouth while kneading the other one. God I was getting so wet just by this interaction alone, and I know he’d make fun of me for it once he got to removing my bottoms.

He continued to massage them as I let out little moans and gasps of breath. I could feel my underwear being completely soaked right now. My pussy was throbbing, and it was aching a painful ache. I so badly needed him to touch me. He was doing this so he can hold it over my head in the future about how wet I was for him. He hovers over my boobs and spits on one of my nipples. A shocked gasp came from my mouth followed by a moan. He does the exact to the opposite breast and uses his flat palms to massage the spit in. My eyebrows were knotted together and my mouth was hung open. He was doing this all so I could beg him to move on from my breast, but I was enjoying this, so that wasn’t happening.

“Next time I’m fucking your tits, and coming all over them, and then leaving you here like a dirty whore covered in my cum” He said to me biting his lip

“Fuck Chris don’t say shit like that” I responded trying to rub my thighs together for some friction. He looked at this and smirked.

“Now let’s get down to what I’m really here to do” after saying that he took my bottoms off leaving me in my underwear. Of course today I have on light orange underwear making my arousal very noticeable.

“Aww she made a mess for me” he said ghosting his thumb over my pussy, my body shudders from the touch

“Chris I don’t fucking care of course I’m wet you were stimulating my breast, now let’s go if you do get me to cum I’m trying to cum tonight not tomorrow” I responded clearly annoyed. He just laughs and nods his head slightly.

He slowly starts to remove my panties, and as he takes them off there’s a very visible string of my arousal connected from my pussy to my underwear. He just looks up at me and smirks, and I throw my head back and moan as the cool air in his room is causing some release to my untouched core.

Chris pulls my legs apart propping them up on the bed as he situates himself in between my legs. Once he’s comfortable he grabs both legs on either arm and spreads my thighs back. I throw my head back at how hot he looks right now.

“You’ve made such a mess, let’s make it more messy” he said and as he finished that sentence he gathered all the spit in his mouth and let it dribble down onto my wet pussy. I let out the most quiet “fuck” of my life as I watch this unravel infront of me.

As soon as he's done with that he immediately goes down and licks from my hole up to my clit. I was propped up on my elbows but my top half goes limp and I fall back moaning

“Holy shit Chris” was all I could say. He’s sucking my clit and licking it lightly grazing his teeth on my clit hit spit and my slick are mixing together creating the most ungodly sound ever. It is only then that he moans against my clit and my thighs shut around his head

“Fuck Chris oh my god….if you keep doing that I’m going to cum on your face” I said said gripping the sheets. He goes down to lick my hole and his pointy nose is banging against my clit in the most delicious way. Allowing me to moan out for him once again slamming my thighs shut around his head.

He detached from my pussy to look at me, and it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen….his fucked out eyes, his nose,lips and chin covered in my arousal and his spit and his cheeks are all red and rosy. He immediately goes back down to my pussy this time adding his middle finger while sucking my clit. As he’s sucking my clit he’s motioning his middle finger in a come here motion and then moans against my clit. I let out the loudest scream as I could, shaking and cumming all over his mouth and finger. Seeing flashes of white and my body coming off the bed. I had no warning. I was just hit with an intense orgasm. I was breathing heavy as i came down from my high 100% fucked out.

“What’d I say trembling and thighs shaking like a used slut” Chris said as he was removing his pants and I was just there basking in the feeling of the best orgasm I’ve ever had. I look up and see Chris stroking his hard dick while watching me pull myself together

“Chris that was the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had” I stated watching his hand move up and down against his rock hard dick. I was already getting aroused again. He comes closer and takes his right hand swiping it against my pussy collecting my cum and his spit as I shudder from the sensitivity.

He uses that to stroke his dick “Should I fuck you, or should I use your cum as my lube to get off and paint your skin like the dirty slut you are?” he asks, still stroking his cock. All I could do was moan and beg him to fuck me.

Once again he spits on my pussy and on his dick using it as extra lube. He’s looking down as he places the tip at my entrance. We both lock eyes as his dick enters me, both of our mouths dropping and our eyebrows kneading together. Both of us whispering fuck. He slowly starts to go in and out.

“Fuck Chris you gotta move you feel so good I wanna feel you pounding me” I told him he bites his lip and nods starting to pick up the pace

30 seconds later he’s rapidly thrusting into me like there’s no tomorrow rubbing my nipples and then going back to my clit. I’m a moaning bitch right now, and I’m about to cum on his cock I can feel it, so I started clenching his dick.

“Fuck Y/N keep doing that I’m going to fucking cum all over you” He said into my ear with his arms on either side of my head as his chain dangles in my face and his sweat starts to fall on me.

“Chris keep touching my clit I’m going to cum so hard again” my breathing was becoming more rapid and my moans were becoming silent as my mouth would just stay open and my eyes shut. He backed up a little bit so he could look down at me while rubbing my clit.

“Fuck open your eyes I wanna hold eye contact while we cum” he said, and I did what I was told I opened my eyes just as I was about to cum, with one more thrust I came so hard on his dick clenching down and moaning while looking into his eyes. As soon as I came down from my high he pulled out and kept the eye contact while pumping his cock, and soon enough he came all over my lower stomach with his mouth wide open and bitchy whimpering moans spilling out of his mouth.

He collapsed down next to me while we both sat there in silence not moving for 5 minutes. Then Chris got up and got a warm wet rag to wipe me down with. He came back with it and was staring at my lifeless body there still shuddering.

As he’s wiping my stomach down he states “exactly what I said a fucked out used slut” he looks at me chuckling

I turn my head to him “Chris you just let out the most whiniest moan as you came on me” I said as we both laughed.

“You know I didn’t mean for my joke to hurt your feelings I truly thought you were over the feelings for me. I’m not over my feelings for you, but I thought saying that would help me get over it” he said after wiping me down

“Chris I was never over you. I lost my virginity to you, that’s a soul tie and you’ll forever have a special place in my heart” I told him looking at him. He helped me sit up so we can sit face to face

“Good because I have never wanted someone so badly in my life as much as I want you” Chris responded back moving my hair behind my ear. I just smiled at that and looked into his eyes

“Let me take you on a date, and try again. None of that high school shit I want this for real” He said looking into my eyes for an answer

“I’d love that” I said going in to kiss him. As I pulled back we hear a knock at the door

“Are yall done fucking the parties over and we need help cleaning” Nick said from the other side. Chris and I both looked at each other wide eyed laughing because we totally forgot there was a whole house party going on upstairs.

“Uh yeah we’ll be right out” we both said.

The end 😀

Okay I warned yall this is just a little bit of the type of shit I write, and I used to write this at 14 LMFAOOOO. But anyways leave some NICE comments. All young people under 18, that are rude are gonna be blocked cause I can’t do this shit. My mouth is crazy I’m from New York😁🤞🏽

I’m writing a sweet Matt smut next will either be up later tonight or tomorrow 😘🧎🏽‍♀️

[kkukverse]

his dandelion

pair: Taehyung x athlete!reader (fem.reader)

genre: high school au, childhood friends au

warnings & ratings: mentions of injuries | fluff, angst

word count: 4k

author's note: happy birthday, winter bear.

You were both thirteen when Taehyung wanted to be your friend.

He sat next to you in art class, only with his dark charcoal pencil as his utensil. He drew peculiar lines and shapes and sometimes portraits. Your teacher loves them but you cannot understand it. 

Your teacher once said that he would’ve made an astounding art prodigy if his arts were to be seen by the world. She said his talent is hidden in this crappy little island. But Taehyung doesn’t really mind it, he once whispered to you, “I like it here, I don’t think my art is that big of a deal anyway. It’s not like I’m Van Gogh or something”

You laughed along because at thirteen years old, you never knew nor cared about a guy named Van Gogh. Taehyung used to tell you about that guy. Not wanting to look ignorant, you used all of your extra pocket money to get into Mr. Lee’s cyber cafe. Using the internet to find out more about the man Taehyung always talks about. 

You were confused, for someone who painted in vibrant color, Van Gogh is actually a sad guy. 

Unlike him. Taehyung was a vibrant kid and you noticed he only used dark colors in his paintings. You always paint everything in red and yellow. Those are your favorite, probably because of your field and track jersey. Since you keep seeing those colors, you tend to use them the most.

One day, on your practice day, Taehyung sat spreading his legs on the bench. Quite close to you but you still squint your eyes. Unsure if it’s actually him or just some other boy who wore the exact baggy beige pants that you always see on him, why is he here? Maybe he’s waiting for a friend. 

You just finished a total of five set a hundred meter runs before you realized that he is actually looking at you. From almost a yard away from him, you waved your hand “Taehyung?”

“Yea,” one arm on his knee, the other one waving back at you.

“Waiting for someone?” you yelled, hoping that he can hear you.

“No one, just watching you,” Taehyung answered.

You jog closer to him, because you think you misheard that he was here watching you, not waiting for someone. Wait? 

“What?” You pant while wiping sweat on your forehead. 

“I said, I was watching you running,” he beamed, looking up at you. He was holding back a laugh seeing your face twitch in confusion.

“There isn’t any particular reason. I was just nearby when I saw your team having a practice.” 

“And somehow you decided to stay?” You asked.

“I am curious. I really wanted to see you in the field. I saw you in your jersey all the time after our class. I never gets to see you in action, so yea, I decided to stay and watch you,”

“Well, that’s…”

“Too weird?” Taehyung scooted to provide you some space on the bench. His big hand lightly taps on the free spot, luring you to sit next to him.

“No, not really. We just don’t really talk in class and I was just..shocked?” You’re making sure there’s a gap in between your thighs and his because you’re conscious of your sweaty smelly self. 

He chuckled and you stared at his boxy smiles. There it is, the infamous smile that swooned everyone in this little island.

“Silly, I thought we’re already friends? At least I considered us friends the moment you let me borrow your yellow paint.” He turns his whole upper body, fully facing you now. 

The yellow paint was a cheap one. It was not even that bright. In fact, all colours in the paint set are dull and pale. It was affordable and your mom did her best to buy it. Bless her heart. Taehyung uses your yellow paint for the dandelion he drew. What you didn’t know was, he may purposely draw the dandelions so he can talk to you. 

“Oh yeah.” You agreed along.

Crap. I’m so sweaty like a pig right now, you thought. 

“Let’s make it more clear, can we be friends?” Taehyung smiles at you.

“Sure,” was your only answer. 

Dammit you can feel the sweat running down the valley of your prepubescent beasts and you wanted this to end before Taehyung can see it through your thin jersey. 

Since that day, Taehyung never missed a day of your practice. Just sitting all by himself on the bench until it’s over, and after that you walked home together. 

At seventeen, he wiped the tears and kissed the pain away.

If Taehyung was told to rate three of his hardest moments in his life, number three would be sending you off on the ferry to town. 

You have become a successful athlete, number one track runner in your hometown representing your school. You were always away for running events.

Once a month, you’re cruising on the ferry, off to the big city. It pains Taehyung to watch you go out of the island where he is still stuck there. But he insisted on sending you and picking you up. Because that way he can soothe his heart by sending you safely and knowing you will always come back home.

Just like any other month. Taehyung is waiting by the station on his bike. Ready to pick you up.

He is imagining your silly face with a gold medal on your neck. “Taetae I won! Again!” Like any other month. Taehyung can’t help it. He has grown to care about you a lot. He has become your number one supporter, always there at the finished line.

Taehyung knows by heart the schedule of the ferry. The ferry leaves at seven every morning and the last trip from the town is always at before five in the evening. He knows the schedule like the back of his hand. It’s a small island. Nothing really goes wrong. Except if there is a storm or if the sea is unpleasant. Which was rare. 

He knows that the journey took two hours. It’s always two hours back and forth to the big city. Somehow right now his watch is pointing at seven. Later than usual. He kept himself calm by picturing you running to him. 

His eyes lit up the moment he saw the ferry. He patiently waits until every single one of the passengers is out of that ferry. Just like any other month, he predicted your loud scream can be heard by now.

 Except, this time it was silent.

The ferry was here but he couldn’t hear your giggles, his heart was beating fast. Something is not right.

Standing up straight, he runs to the ferry. Calling for you. 

His frantic eyes caught a few people still coming out but he couldn’t find you. What happened? Times like this makes him more anxious because he couldn’t call you. At seventeen, having a phone in this little island is a luxury. Promising himself to get a phone soon with the money he collected from part time jobs.

One hand on his hip and the other is rubbing his face, he broke into a cold sweat. His mind is moving too fast with questions. Were you left behind? Did something happen to you? Are you alone?

Just before he almost turned around and grabbed his bike to look for your coach or your mom, he saw a solemn figure at the back side of the ferry. 

His second hard moments in his life is watching you injured.

His heart beats like a drum when he sees you in crutches, one leg is wrapped and head down looking at the floor. He walks with a heavy heart to you, whispering your name as if calling you out loud would break your already fragile state.

“Hey, look at me,” Taehyung says softly as he holds your chin. Prompting you to look up to him. He gasped after his eyes set on your face. Your lower lip is busted and red with dried blood, your eyes are swollen, which he assumes from crying. He hates that he was right.

His greatest fear, your tears.

“Taetae,” the break in your voice is stabbing Taehyung all over the place.

“Shh, It’s okay, you’re okay.” He cupped your face with his hands. As gentle as he can. Eyes frowning seeing you in pain. Taehyung wishes there are things such as transferring pain because right now he wants to take yours.

“I lost,” you sob, letting tears and snot rolling down your face. The sting on your lip is the least pain you can feel.

“Oh dear, it’s just one lost. I’m sure you did your best.” Taehyung cooed as he wiped your tears and snot.

“No, it’s not gonna be one lost from now on. I tripped and fell so hard. It’s gonna take months to heal,” you hiccups and Taehyung swears this is the sound that breaks his heart the most and he vows to keep you away from it.

“I’m gonna miss the nationals, Tae what am I gonna do?” you wail. Breathing becomes hard. With hiccups and sobbing and a blurry view because of the tears, you’re breaking down in his arms.  

“Shh shh, take a deep breath for me. Come on baby, don’t scare me. Please, please breathe.” he puts his forehead on yours. Hoping to ground you back to him. Thumbs rubbing softly on your cheeks.

The term of endearment didn’t go unnoticed by you. Baby.

“Taetae,”. You were still sobbing as you leaned on him.

Taehyung is terrified, he never saw you cry this hard. He doesn’t know how to calm you and it kills him to not be able to do anything to lessen your pain. So he kissed you, softly. On your forehead, on your cheeks, on your eyelids, on your nose. 

The traces of his kisses feel like a feathery touch. And your sense is following his trails. Closing your eyes you’re no longer sobbing. Only soft whimpers fill the space.

“There we go. No more tears, baby.” Taehyung is relieved now that he can feel you breathing at a steady pace again. “Let’s go home,” he hesitated when his eyes landed on your lips. Swollen red from the biting. 

You noticed the lingering stare and with a beat of the heart you crashed your lips on his. Seeking comfort and warmth, Taehyung is soaring high. The kiss was like a warm wave. Languid and soft. Taehyung is so gentle. He peppers soft kisses around your busted lips. 

“Don't wanna hurt you,” he breathed. Pulling himself from the kiss, he rubs a soft circle on your cheek. “Let’s go home,” he added. 

He piggybacks you home first and comes back again later to pick up his bike and your crutches. From that day onward, you both knew that you aren’t just friends anymore.

You have been itching to get your feet back on track and once the cast is off, you swear you’re gonna spend every evening running. It wasn’t ideal since the injury was bad and you were advised to stay put until it completely healed. 

But you were so determined to get back on track because your only goal is getting into nationals. You have planned it out. Since you don’t perform well academically, running is your only golden ticket out of the island. You got to join the national teams. You must.

The evening after you took off your cast accompanied by Taehyung, you asked him to drop you off at the track field.

“What are we gonna do in the field? You’re not planning on running aren’t you?” Taehyung speaks with scrunched eyebrows. 

“Taetae, please. I really missed the track.” You pouted and he’s a goner.

“No running!” He pointed his finger at you. You smirk before pretending to bite it. 

“I’m serious. No running,” he gently flicked your forehead. “We’re just gonna take a walk, okay?” he hums, turning around to make sure you’re securely safe on the back of his bike.

“I promise.” You squeezed his waist, an answer yes I’m alright back here Taetae.

You have no idea how much you missed the track until Taehyung helped you down from the bike. The sudden gush of air fills your lungs like you’ve come up from drowning. Taehyung can sense that you’re become quite overwhelmed. His hand enveloping yours as he kissed your temple.

“Come on,” he whispered.

Rahhhh!! Rahhh!!! 

The chant of the crowd broke a smile on your face. You missed it, you missed smelling the old burgundy track, feeling the burn from the sun, the sweat and the satisfying burn in your lungs when you reached the finish line. 

You missed a certain someone waiting there. With his ridiculous boxy grin, and his booming cheers, muting other sounds and you can hear nothing but his voice. 

It is so hard to be the one sitting in the audience instead of being on the track.

Taehyung left you for a minute to buy some lemonade and you desperately need him to ground you. Otherwise you’d be a crying mess. Yearning to be on the track but your almost healing leg is holding you back.

It is an annual event, something like sports day for the people in your island. It wasn’t even a big event, unlike the ones you used to compete in. But your heart hummed in a painful tone. You’re jealous of those who can run freely on the track you held dear to your heart.

A soft tap on your shoulder broke you from wallowing in self-pity. Taehyung sat next to you, hands holding two cups of lemonade. He knows coming here is not a good idea but you woke up so early and dressed up to be here. He doesn’t have the heart to say no.

Seeing your frowning face, Taehyung started to think maybe he should’ve said no or maybe brought you somewhere else but here.

“Hey, did I tell you that Miss Choi is helping me submit my art to the National Art School?” Taehyung winced at his futile attempt to distract you. No, Taehyung, this isn’t about you. He bit the inner cheek. Handing you a cup of lemonade before he could think of anything to turn back the time.

“No way,” you gasped. He knows you’d be excited for him. But he didn’t expect how your face would just glow in excitement like this. He was glad. 

“Taetae! Why did you just tell me now? How could you!” you punched his shoulder. It doesn’t hurt a bit. Taehyung is still lost in your happy smile. 

“Ah, I'm so happy. Finally, Let the city people look at your art. They're gonna praise you Taetae!” You smile adoringly and Taehyung hated that he had one thought you wouldn’t be happy for him.

“Yea, but I’m not sure yet what piece I should submit. I’m not that good and nope before you can scream at me let me finish,” he raised his finger on your lips. Just managed to stop you from gasping out loud. 

What an outrageous statement! Kim Taehyung’s arts are the most magnificent arts. Though you have no clue how to appreciate art, you would break hell if people couldn’t appreciate his art.

“It’s a tough competition, even if my piece were received and reviewed, the chances of me getting in there are slim. There are so many talented artists out there, baby. Let’s not have high hopes. Not to mention I haven’t had a decent piece to submit yet.” he sighed. Shoulders slumped and he emptied the lemonade in one go.

He is nervous.

Looking at him, you squished his cheeks with your hands. “Look at me,” you demanded.

“Your art is the most breathtaking art I have ever seen, Kim Taehyung. And it’s a lot coming from me, who is practically blind when it comes to looking at paintings. I have zero knowledge about art but I know for sure, yours are gonna blow some minds. There’s people out there who studied arts, they will look at yours and be amazed by them.” You said.

“And you will always have good arts, they’re not just decent. You always said when the inspiration comes, it comes. Don’t pressure yourself,” you whispered as if it’s the only secret between you and him. And you’re selfish, not wanting to share the moment with the rest of the crowds.

Taehyung didn’t know how a heart could break until that night he received a call from your mother.

“Taehyung, she fell. Again.” 

The static noise filled his ears as he ran to the jetty. It was midnight and there’s no ferry to take him to you.

Stupid, stupid girl!

He cried while banging his chest. He could’ve prevented you from going. You told him you wanted to participate in a tournament. It was not even a month after you recovered. Teahyung did think you were so stubborn to go because apparently it was for a scholarship. You were hellbent on going because you knew, the moment Taehyung got accepted to art school, you will be left alone. 

You wanted to be in the city with him. You were so sure Taehyung would get accepted and the only way to be with him is to get the sports scholarship and join him in the city.

Taehyung was unsure at first. You just got better. He was scared that one slip could jeopardize your whole dream. Again, he hated that he was right.

Your mom was sobbing when she called him. “She can never run again Tae, her muscle was torn and there’s no way we can afford a surgery. She hasn’t woken up yet, she was under a high dose painkiller. I don’t know what to tell her Tae.”

Taehyung wished he could calm your mom but he couldn’t. Not when he was crying too.

You always tell him the same dream of yours. Joining the national team, go to the Olympics. Becoming the fastest runner of the country. Run until you can never feel your legs anymore. With him always telling you he’d be on the finish line. Cheering you on and on. And now the dreams will stay as dreams.

He couldn’t control his anger and thinking about your pain, he collapses on the ground. Letting the tears touch the ground. It wasn’t until he was collected enough to ride the earliest ferry to town. To come to you.

Taehyung stays by your side nights and days. Helping your mom as you don't have any male figure in your life. His parents understand it and he is thankful for that. They know how much you meant to him and they were so proud to see their son has been such a reliable shoulder especially in this trivial time for your family.

He was the one who meets up with the doctor with your mom. Discussing the recovery plan, and just being there to be your pillar. You were so quiet on the first day he arrived. The dark circles under your eyes and the hollow stare is tearing his heart apart. 

Not saying much he helped feed you, and carried you to the bathroom. You were still quiet, though Taehyung tried to engage you in small talks. He makes silly jokes, the repeated jokes you always laughed at only to be received an empty response from you now. 

“Tae, I wouldn’t know what to do if you weren't here. Thank you so much, son.” Your mom cries to him. Taehyung was so heartbroken to see your mom keep crying as he himself couldn’t do much to ease the pain. 

“She’ll get better, she is strong.” He said. It has become a mantra every time Taehyung sat alone, thinking about you.

One day, when the doctor allowed you to go home, you reached for him. Mumbling, “Taetae, will I be okay?” your voice was strained, rough and broken. Eyes still staring into the void but your hands held onto him so tight. Like you’re so afraid if he lets go.

“Yes, you will. You’re a strong girl, you’re my strong girl,” Taehyung replied without hesitation, kissing your forehead in hopes of banishing the negative thoughts from swallowing your mind. 

“But I can’t run anymore. What’s the point? I am no longer a runner.” 

“Maybe there’s another opportunity for you. Maybe we can try other things, I’ll help you,”

You scoffed, he sounded silly and unrealistic. “I am nothing without running. It’s my only purpose, Kim Taehyung.” 

He winced at his full name used by you. “I get it but you shouldn’t lose all hope. There are other possibilities for you out there, we just have to push harder to look for them. I believe in you.” Taehyung pleads.

“You don’t get it. All my life, one thing I am sure about is the track. I beat the time every time I’m on the track and now I am defeated with a broken leg and a stupid brain. Forget academics, you and I, we both know how terrible I am at learning. I’m not you! You’re a prodigy in everything. You have people who want to buy your art. I only have the track to stay valid so no, no one gets it. Not even you!” you were seething through your teeth. 

All of the pent up anger and frustration were let out to the one person you cared about. It’s too late to regret, now that his face shows nothing but hurt.

Taehyung feels like being punched in his gut with your words. How could you, when he himself couldn’t sleep a wink from the day he heard about your injury. When worried about you every time you were at a tournament. When he can barely sit still watching you running on the track.

He couldn’t say anything after that. He knows whatever comes out from his mouth will only make it worse. You were devastated, he got to understand that. You need time and space, and you will be okay again. 

Ever since you arrived home, you refused to meet anyone. Not even Taehyung. You were angry and most of all you were just sad. You wanted to be mad at something, something to blame but you couldn’t find it. 

Maybe it was yourself, maybe if you weren’t so stubborn, maybe if you waited a little longer. 

Taehyung did not give up. You were pushing him away and he didn’t move a flinch. He realizes he is being a pushover but you need someone. You were stubborn, through and through. You don’t have to come out of your room to talk to him nor him entering your room like he always does, but you know he’s around, he is home. 

He even followed you and your mom to your routine physiotherapy. But you ignore him. A part of you feels selfish and guilty for treating him this way. Another part is, you think you’re dragging him down on this stupid island. You tried to distance yourself from him, but Taehyung didn’t care. He stays stuck next to you. 

Even though you went to school all by yourself, Taehyung always follows behind you quietly. You didn’t talk to anyone and yet he still comes to your locker to help you carry your book. 

You forgot about his art submission, until one day he came up to your room. Knocking softly. He didn’t speak but who else would be in your house other than your mom. You opened up to see him holding a big white canvas under his arm.

He turns it to you, showing you a painting of a girl in her yellow and red jersey. The girl is running in a field of dandelions.   

“I want to submit this but I need you to see it first. You are my muse, you are my girl. It kills me to see you in this state and I want nothing but the very best of you. I used to cheer for you on the finish line but this time let me run by your side. Let me help you. If I get accepted, I will make a lot of money and I will make the best life for you, so you can stop worrying so much. We’ll learn together, just let me in.”

[ihavetoomanyocsdealwithit]

Jafar VII

Jafar’s statue always looked stiff to her. The clouds pooling at his feet heavy with storm, the feather in his turban that should sway with the wind. If there were any that looked wrong captured in stone, she felt that Jafar’s was the worst.

Iago shifts his eyes away from it, a rumble in his stomach as he looked at him trapped again and again. He mumbles a curse under his breath, handing her the mirror.

“So sour,” Ursula laughs, “Come now, it’s a celebration! Let’s shake this baby loose!”

Yuu does laugh, near impossible when Ursula shimmies so unashamedly. If she could live as audaciously as Ursula, well, life wouldn’t be boring. She had seen her stroll through the house with tentacles even just to flow better, though she chose legs for today, the only hint of them beneath the large circle of her dress the soft click of boots.

“It gets a bit easier every time.” Yuu mutters, releasing the breath with Iago kneeling right behind her. The mirror glints harshly.

The space between feels less foggy and certainly less frantic than the last time she was here. There are 3 places that feel cold beside her, but that’s to be expected. She’s about to take another of them.

But it isn’t cold in front of her. No, it’s almost too hot, like marching across the oasis again. She takes in another breath, slowly releasing through her nose. It’s a bit different, with a familiar. The imbuements hurt, briefly, but always bring her to her knees. She has no idea what to expect with him.

Jafar shows clear as day, as opposed to the whispering mirages around him. Older, wiser, tired. He leans down to match her, all that elegance magnified as he wipes her brow.

“You are doing well.” he mumbles, “Far better than the first time you came here. Say the words and I will be free. Iago will anchor you far better than the mirror.”

There is a pulse, a comfort, and she takes a breath.

“Bippity” the hot wind howls against her ears “Boppity” the sound of twisting metal sinks it’s way beneath her skin “Boo”

Yuu wakes up in Ursula’s arms, panting against the coolness of her skin. She feels like she just woke up from a nap in the sun, sticky and sweaty.

“Well done, angelfish.” She whispers. “Well done. He’s not an easy one, being a magical being himself, but you managed it.”

Him and Iago are nowhere to be seen though. In her shaking hands is an obsidian black lamp, rubies shining like blood on the edges.

“Is he?” she gestures down.

“He is. You freed the spirit, make no mistake, but he and Iago curbed as much as they could in order to make it easier on you. We will rub the lamp and get him out once we are home.”

She slumps in Ursula’s hold as she easily carries her back to Ramshackle. She wanted to walk proudly back, but her body just feels exhausted.

Jafar’s room is of course done with whatever pieces from old Scarabina dorm she had, though Kalim had been more than happy to contribute tapestries, pillows and other lush things that she would have never been able to make much less afford. She had created Jafar’s room to be based more on science, since the others tended toward different academic themes anyway.

Ursula pauses at the door, a potion cradled in her hands for brief rejuvenation. She really hates the taste of these things now, no matter how sweetened she makes it.

“Alright.” She mumbles, shinning the black metal in her hands, “Let’s meet you officially.”

Iago flies out first, shaking his feathers as the smoke forms into something more solid.

Jafar looks better like this, she thinks, watching the silk of his robe move, a stretch in his back that pops down the vertebrae.

“Nice to meet you, little thief.” His body slides like a coil into a cushion on the floor. “Here, allow me.”

A tea set, she assumes as much, far different from Mary’s, floats to the low table in front of her, a flame from his fingertip setting the tealight up.

“Thief?”

“Oh yes,” he chuckles, spooning out something sharp and spicy into the gold cups. “A cunning man never plays by the rules. He learns to bend and shape them to his will or hide when he cannot. A thief of intent. That is what you are, or at least, what you will be.”

“Hope you like riddles,” Iago pipes up, “Because you are about to hear a lot of them.”

“Hush!” Jafar snips, but it’s so familiar and so fond that she can’t help but lean into the softness of it.

This will be fine, even if she won’t have as much time with him as the others. Jamil and Kalim are double the workload of the others, but essential. They are two halves of the whole. They both need help if the plan is to work.

Yuu takes a breath, chugs the potion and waits for the boiling point.

[possibilistfanfiction]

Surgeons au: "please take a break"

[idk where this started & idk where this went but boy is it soft lol]

//

beatrice is exhausted.

you get home — to her house, but you have a key and most of your things have migrated over steadily: a drawer for your underwear; your favorite coffee roast in the cabinet; your spare cane in the corner of the bedroom; the garden you’d planted and tended in the back yard in full bloom now — and see her slumped over, her head in her hands, sitting on a stool at the kitchen island. it’s been like this for days, since she lost a patient from a routine surgery that went badly and then went worse than badly. it wasn’t her fault, not at all, but beatrice, you’ve found, despite her reticence and calm, is a person who feels everything deeply. for all of your differences, you think this is maybe the similarity that makes the most sense to you, the one that lets you navigate what she needs when things are too big and too near and impossibly sad.

she lifts her head, a blush rising to her cheeks, when you come in from the garage. ‘oh,’ she says, like she lost track of time; she probably did.

‘hello to you too.’

she smiles apologetically. ‘hello, darling.’

you toss your tote on the couch; on a normal day, when things aren’t so heavy, this would make her sigh in fond exasperation, but now she just waits, still, for you to slip your shoes off and pad over to her. 

‘i’m all sweaty,’ she says, holding up a hand before you can hug her. you glance down and see that she’s still in a pair of her climbing pants and an old hoodie, her hands still slightly dusty with chalk. 

‘you went to the gym?’

she nods, and you spare her the lecture of why it’s a bad idea to go bouldering after a marathon shift, especially when she hasn’t been sleeping even on her days off.

‘i just needed something else to think about, to — to feel with my hands.’

you’re, like, the most mature person in the world now, basically, because you read the room and refrain from making one of many of the dirty jokes that immediately pop into your head. it’s too easy anyway. ‘are you feeling better?’

she sighs, slumps even further onto the stool. ‘i’m feeling tired.’

‘yeah, i bet you are.’ you don’t care about her being sweaty, don’t care about any of it, really, but how to possibly comfort her. you rub your hand along her back, her perfect, strong spine, her exacting, taut muscles, the grief wedged between them all.

‘i have to read dr. adebeyo’s new research article, and review for my septal myectomy on thursday, and —‘

‘you’re not at work right now, babe.’

‘i can’t think of anything else.’

you don’t often ask things of her, mostly because she offers so much so readily but also because asking is still hard for you, impossible some days. but you’re working on it and, besides, this is for her: ‘please, please take a break.’ what happened wasn’t your fault, you want to say, but it would be too much and you get the feeling that she still isn’t quite ready to hear it yet.

she leans into your side then, a little awkward but bone-weary and still, you can tell, in love. it’s scared you for so long, what it’s like to be adored by someone, to be valued and admired; it’s the most terrifying thing you’ve ever felt in your life, worse than your accident and the scars along your back and the hollow of your throat and all the surgeries to follow, worse than the horribly hopeful future spread out in front of you when you got accepted to work with jillian, worse than when you matched with your dream program. beatrice simply is — in love with you, loving you — and, finally, finally, you’re starting to trust it. 

‘you need a haircut,’ you say after a while — beatrice usually buzzes her hair every week, neatly and like clockwork, because ‘it’s easy, and, so i’ve been told at least, that it looks good,’ she’d told you, to which you’d rolled your eyes but had no argument against — and she snorts a laugh from where she’s pressed her face into your arm. it’s amused and exhausted, all at once. ‘i can do it, if you’d like.’

she waits for a moment, considers it. there’s the intimacy you’re familiar with: how warm her center is with your fingers curling inside, the way her mouth feels when you’re about to come. the way your body was able to feel during sex was the wildest, most heartbreaking discovery for you at first, but you settled into it with joy after a while. after chanel had very seriously given you a lecture your second week of college on how to be safe, it was fun and light and never so serious. with beatrice, it’s easy intimacy: you know that kissing her pulse point makes her arch her back and beg, that you know how to be kind, even when rough, every single time.

the intimacies of life, though, are where you sometimes both get stuck, the smallest parts of you that had hurt the most, that had had to heal so slowly, that you hold so tight to your chest. you hate playing all your cards, and you’re certain she does too: to be cared for can feel suffocating, in the wrong circumstances. to be cared for, though, you’ve discovered a few weeks ago when she brought you a heating pad and picked up the new pain medication your neurologist wanted you to try, in the right hands, in beatrice’s hands, is a miracle.

beatrice looks up at you, the question clear: you would do that for me?

you smile softly, lean down to kiss her like things are easy, like things are good. in so many ways, in the ways that sit in the marrow of your bones, they are.

she smiles back, finally, eyes brightening, unfurling after days trying to hide in the dark. ‘you think you can manage it?’

you nod. ‘you can trust me.’ it comes out so sincere, despite the fact that you add in a wink to try to dissipate it.

she straightens up, then, and squeezes your hand. ‘thank you, ava.’

you tell her, ‘of course,’ because, of course. 

‘you know,’ she says a few minutes later, sitting on a kitchen chair in the big primary bathroom, her shirt discarded in the hamper in your room, ‘i’ve never let anyone do this for me before.’

‘really?’

‘yes.’ she’s quiet for a moment, the buzz from her clippers, with the guard she’d precisely put on, the only noise as you run them along her scalp. ‘well, it’s fairly simple, for one.’

you hum. ‘and for two?’

she rolls her eyes, shrugs, blushes. you love her. ‘i didn’t…’ she pauses, tries again, ‘it’s close.’

‘yeah.’

she meets your eyes in the mirror, quiet. you know from what she’s told you about her past, when she was younger, when she knew who she was but was made to feel scared and so ashamed : the tears and the heartache and how much she thought her life wasn’t worth anything, the heaviness that sits around her like a soft cloak sometimes, even still. but, right now, you see her, and you care for her, exactly as she is. it’s different than anything you’ve ever had before, more than you could’ve convinced yourself to want: she’s going to stay. she wants to stay.

a smile grows on her face and it’s like the whole world lightens. ‘lilith thought i was having a breakdown, the first time.’

you laugh, go over the spiraling, small cowlick a few more times so it’s all even. ‘was she maybe a little bit right?’

she hums. ‘a little, perhaps. but i’d been curious for a long time, and i knew — it would feel right. i knew it.’

you resist the urge to kiss the top of her head, one of your favorite activities, only just avoiding it when you brush all the little hairs from her bare shoulders and some of them stick to your hand. ‘well, it suits you. i mean, i think anything would suit you, probably, but i get it.’

her smile softens, just for you. ‘plus, my mother almost fainted the first time i went home for the holidays. worth its weight in gold, honestly, for both me and lil.’

it’s rare beatrice mentions her parents, especially in a way that encourages a little laugh to bubble out of her chest. you grin. ‘i would’ve paid to see that.’

she fiddles with her watch band, one of her only nervous tells, and then sighs. ‘well, they’re visiting in a few weeks, after my boards.’

you take the guard off and tilt her head forward slightly so you can clean up her neckline. it gives her time to take a deep breath, and for you to calm your nerves. ‘oh. how do you feel about that?’

‘i mean, well, it’s fine. i suppose this is the sort of things parents would be proud of.’

‘any sane parent would be, like, bursting at the seams proud of you. i need you to know that.’

‘i —‘ she pauses, puzzles through it. ‘i do, for the most part. when they’re a continent away, it’s different. easier.’

‘for sure.’ you walk around in front of her and brush hair off of her forehead, the tip of her nose which she scrunches up. you’d told a patient the other day, scared and hurting, that dr. choi was the best, and, in all the ways that matter — her steady hands and kind hugs and the stretch of freckles across her cheeks — you had meant it. 

‘do you — would you like to meet them?’

you’d like to fucking punch them, but — ‘do you want me to meet them?’

‘yes,’ she says, certain and stoic. ‘you’re my partner, and we live together, and i’m going to spend the rest of my life with you.’

there’s such tenderness, such assuredness, the rain calming and her strong shoulders and the smile you feel on your face. it’s quiet, now, the clippers turned off and sitting on the counter. ‘we live together?’

‘that’s what you got from that?’

you shrug.

she takes your hand, laces your fingers together. ‘your lease is up next month, right?’

‘yeah.’

‘i can’t remember the last time you didn’t spend the night here, and i certainly can’t remember the last time i didn’t want you to.’

‘you’re full of big declarations today.’ it’s ineffective, because your laugh comes out as mostly a snot-filled snuffle when tears press at your eyes. you’ve never, really, had a home before.

beatrice just squeezes your hand. 

‘you’re gonna spend the rest of your life with me?’

‘ah, there we go.’

‘you do know that i’m, like, a whole lot.’

‘yes,’ she says. ‘and i love you.’

just like that. just like that, and it’s so easy. ‘i love you too.’ you wipe under your eyes, grimace for a moment when stray hairs get stuck on your cheeks, but you let out a big breath. ‘i can’t promise i won’t at least tell your parents off.’

‘if they say anything that warrants that, i’m fine with you causing a scene if you’d like. shannon loves to, so she’ll have fun.’

‘i think that might be too much of an opening for me, honestly. i’ve been waiting to yell at them since like, two hours after i met you.’

‘there’s no way you knew after two hours on my service.’

‘i could sense the, like, childhood trauma, gentle, brooding, gay vibes. i’m talented that way.’

she rolls her eyes but she’s clearly so fond of you, still holding your hand. ‘well, shall i shower, and then we can order in? catch up on the traitors, maybe?’

‘god, that is my love language. for real, bea.’

‘would you like to shower with me?’

‘okay, i take it back. that is my love language.’

she laughs, and stands, and you clean up and get in the shower and kiss her. you don’t do anything more, not tonight, not when things are still the raw end of a live nerve wire, hurt dissipating near the surface. you cuddle on the couch and steal bites of her biryani and she falls asleep, warm and soft, her head resting on your chest while you scratch her scalp. you live her, for real, you think, as you pause the episode before the roundtable because she hates missing it even if she pretends to not care — asking for a full recap the next day — and then rouse her as gently as you can and lead her by the hand to bed, to rest.

[sandwormrp]

The Scent of an Offworlder

Feyd Rautha x Zamah (OC) x Glossu Rabban 651 words

Summary: Canon divergent story. Set on Geidi Prime, Rabban's plan is simple; Bring a Fremen woman to Feyd as a gift, she'll kill him and do Rabban a favor. Only, Rabban didn't anticipate Zamah accepting the offer to become one of his darlings. Kickstarting the Monsters & Sand Demons timeline. Content Warning: About to get a little (a lot) violent. Descriptions without getting too detailed.

A low buzzing hum shook the floorboards of Geidi Prime's very own Melange Lounge. The obsidian marble floorboards were sparkling like crystals as a herd of leather footwear danced aggressively over it, the ghost-like faces of the crowd losing themselves to the pounding, eerie mix of gloomy bass and screeching electronic tones.

Clinking glasses of a variety of alcoholic beverages were shared among groups, following the wispy smell of spice smoke clouding over the bodies, tumbling, spreading through the Harkonnen infested lounge. Smoking stations that contained the special desert narcotic in water pipes were set up against the sleek, marble bar that matched the floors. Pale fists moved behind the bar at an alarming rate to keep up with the massive ordering, a melange-spiced drink proving to be the most popular item, the foamy, sand-coloured liquid brimmed cups tinkling out one by one on the countertops into the clutches of desperate, waiting hands.

Lights that hung from the high ceilings projected beams of monochromatic colour, sputtering to a near-seizing speed, flickering and twirling over a sweaty swarm of pure porcelain heads that swayed to the booming doom beats. A deep onyx-tinted fog spurted out in a mist over the mass of gyrating limbs, which was met with ravenous cheers and claps.

In the far right-hand corner, the lights swung like a pendulum over the open wide maw of Feyd-Rautha, his snow-pigmented skull popping in the dark atmosphere. He was leaning his head back onto the cushioned back of a latex sofa, both uniformed arms draped over the top of the pillows, stretching out. The angular table in front of the sofa had a silver tin of midnight-hued paste that was made readily available to only the most wealthiest spaces on Geidi Prime. The magnetic appeal the paste gave you increased by nearly tenfold even in the most dangerous of places that he was prone to lurking. People of all different kin, creed, and behaviour complexities could be hypnotized into compliance with a slow flash of his blackened smile.

Feyd-Rautha's teeth were being retouched and tended to by one of his precious darlings. Her insect-like, beady eyes moved over his face carefully as she dipped and dabbed the bristles of the tiny brush over his teeth, her skinny white fingers applying a second coat of the black paste while working over the edges of his gums.

In an abrupt, jerky movement, her bald cranium raised to chitter in curiosity, the small brush clattering to the floor. A clicking noise emitted from her throat as she honed in on two individuals who stood to the side of the sofa's arm. She rushed forward before Feyd-Rautha gripped her wrist in a nonchalant tug that held more power than it appeared, forcing her onto the floor in front of his sitting form, where she sat perched and chattering noisily, her lip curling in a snarl in the direction of the intrusion.

"Sit, my darling." He ordered, shoving her shoulders down as she snapped her jaws in their direction.

Feyd-Rautha's face festered in the darkness, his bulbous orbs aimed straight ahead at the tin of paste, not bothering to acknowledge the two individuals whose gazes he felt burning into him.

"Oh, how refreshing…" He rasped fondly in a mocking jeer. "An offworld meal for my darlings."

He relaxed, his expression now wiped with indifference. His neck arched upwards towards the ceiling, resting his naked scalp on the top of the long latex sofa. His irises drank in the sight of the blinding chrome lights, his guttural voice now fully appraising them both. "You needn't go very far now. It seems you've rendered yourselves vulnerable by exposing yourselves so obviously. The Baron hasn't informed me of any offworld guests… so you both are unaccounted for. Unless you've come to join in with the pet in my grooming session?" He quipped blackly, splitting open his lips in amusement.

Continued on our jcink rp!

Fuel a writer’s fixation by liking & reblogging their work!

[jainydoe]

The Battle of Wormwood; Chapter 1

It has to be Bellara who snitched.

With her penchant for knee jerks and quick answers. Thoughts from the heart. Secrets run through her and the truth gets strained and filtered, however lovely her smile may seem. She’s also the only one who knows about the two of them, and knows Mr. and Mrs. Mommy and Daddy. They met back before life got complicated, when she and Bel were just two kids who liked breaking things and building them back together. If she could go back, she’d duct tape Bellara’s mouth shut and tell her to never-ever- never speak to her parents. Be less charming. Less girlish. Less of a fucking good influence. It’s over Thanksgiving when she lets it slip that Rook is far happier these days and just the reason why. 

“Oh, Rook is loving work! Ever since,” 

She’s fast enough to punt her shin and throw a look of Keep going, Dingbat, I Dare you.

“Ever since what, hon?”

“Nothing. Just,” Rook smiles at her parents, “I finally figured out how to feng-shui my office just right, you know? Now it doesn’t feel fucking choking.”

She hates that her mother is a bird of prey. Waiting for the opportunity to strike. This is it. “You’re a liar, darling. And a shit one, at that.” Now Bellara’s in her sights. “What’s this ‘ever since’ you mentioned, Bellara, dear?”

This is no time for the ‘I’m sorry’ she mouths before caving in. “Rook has made a new … friend.”

“A friend?” Her father has been disinterested since the conversation left geophysics. “I thought Rook already had one of those.”

“That’s not the kind she means, dearest.” Her mother pats his hand, her carnivore smile eating Rook alive before the topic moves to Bellara’s latest paper. She gets a text a week later asking to invite this “Emmrich” to dinner.

“I just, I cannot fathom which demon possessed you to answer my mother’s texts. ” Her feet are on Bellara’s desk, lunch abandoned and coffee making a ring on some diagrams that’ve splayed amongst her tchotchkes for months. Her office will always be homier than Rook’s. Whether it’s the bolts and machinery decorating the shelves or the organized chaos of Bel’s lab, she’ll never pinpoint. Bellara can wear her rusted workwear, crumpled shirts and it be seen as proof of her dedication. These graces aren’t as welcome in her own department. Her budget is smaller. She has less to fuss over, other than maintaining the fishtank she impulse-bought at a yard sale a month after her start date. Much like her fish, the students tend to entertain themselves. There aren’t very many interested in medieval history, much less in an expert of old militia. It’s how she meets him the first time, you know. Lecturing to a room of thirteen scattered bodies, right at the time slot you cross your fingers and hope you aren’t cursed with. She smiles every time she remembers it.

“Well, I’m charmed you guys made it out for a 4pm talk on the Ottoman Turks, especially on a weekend. It’s comforting knowing you’re all as much of a loser as I am.” She laughs. A few people give her a chuckle of mild pity. She’s dumb enough to continue. “You know, there’s this joke I heard, it goes - there was a knight who got really sick, nauseous, sweaty, he, uh, had Saturday Knight Fever.” She pauses, chest getting tight. “Um. Dammit. I forgot to mention this was on the weekend, that he got sick, I mean. That’s why I brought it up. Alright. Great.” She hears a bright laugh from the front row. Sweet and puncturing. It’s ringing from a gentleman who’s covering his mouth like a schoolgirl, signet ring glinting under the overhead lights. It’s from the university. The kind you get when you’re hot shit. And it’s not a laugh that’s placating and superior. She’s all too familiar with that brand of participation. When he opens his eyes and looks back at her, she finds he’s unabashed. Here for the love of the game. After all, he’s at her 4pm weekend talk. He’s not part of her department. He’s a guy who finds her funny and thinks what she has to say is interesting. And he waits until everyone has filed out of the glorified conference room before he slips his hand into hers, introducing himself as the head of the Anthropology department, his focus being forensics. “You have a way with the dead,” he remarks, head slightly tilted, smile softly lingering. “It’s reverent and understanding in the way that lends my belief to you being a spirit from centuries ago.” He has a funny way of talking, she thinks to herself, before asking how old he thinks she is. He leans in. “Timeless.” Their handshake and pleasantries don’t go any further. He congratulates her on a Wonderfully Curated Presentation and she thanks him for being Such an exciting audience member. With his laughs. His note-taking. His follow-up questions. She doesn’t bring up the blush he’s sported since they’d begun speaking and he doesn’t mention that she’s twirled her hair into a knot. He can’t take his eyes off it. Almost reaches out and. 

“This may be a shock, but I didn’t rat.” Bel’s scarfing one of the wet takeaway salads from the building cafe and marking in big, electric blue ink how off-the-mark one of her student’s conclusions was. A smiley face and “I know you’ve got this!!!” follows. She’s easy on them, Rook thinks to herself. The kind of professor you keep in touch with. She knows he’s like that, too. Has seen it for herself.

It’s just plain silly and nearly regrettable, that she’s hunted him down to the Nevarra building, so far off central campus. They’ve got the money to pump the AC and this place has been, certainly, renovated. Unlike her building, where she has to claw and bite for the projector Not from the ‘80s. This, on the other hand, is where they keep the real deal. The professors who teach part-time because they need some way to unwind after visiting dig sites, touring for their books, finishing up their Nat Geo series’. The floors are marble and the lights are so yellow, they’re almost green. There are wooden display cabinets taller than her office ceiling, full to the brim with skulls. Saved pieces from tribes forgotten. Little keepsakes and tokens the students whisper are cursed. It’s a different breed. She watches as girls with clean braids lean against bookshelves and actually discuss their classes. Boys in slacks with research grants. It’s not that she doesn’t love her students. She does. They’re opinionated and brash. They come to class in pajama bottoms because they were up late doing whatever but wouldn’t dare let it mean they miss their lecture on the importance of trebuchets. But being here, on this side of the coin. It seeps into her belly that This is what academia really looks like. Curdling like a poison in her chest. She’s still playing little league. 

His office is on the top floor and the door is wide open. A young man, maybe her age, sits and is beaming, finger pointing to a picture in a glossy magazine at the center of the desk. Emmrich is nodding, chin resting on his palm as he wears a peaceful grin. This student, whose picture is apparently in a magazine, is no surprise. He is one of many success stories. She peaks her head in and begins to understand the full mass of Emmrich’s scholarship. There’s a leather Chesterfield sofa, deep green and weighted, near the door. The walls are decorated with decorated people. Photos of him shaking hands with names they’d be lucky to have speak at graduation. She only realizes he’s noticed her when she can’t hear boy-wonder anymore. 

“Dr. Rook?”

She flushes when she notices she’s underdressed compared to the kid. He’s not a kid. He’s probably in his early twenties. Might’ve been a freshman when she was a senior kind of deal. Still. She stands taller remembering the ‘I Have a PhD and You Probably Don’t’ card she keeps on standby nowadays. 

“Dr. Volkarin.”

“Forgive me, professor, do you have a meeting?”

They both know he doesn’t, but he nods. “I’m terribly sorry, Sebastian, I want to hear all about your internship, believe me. Let’s agree to meet at The Bell Toll for brunch? You’re buying.” This “Sebastian" laughs through his toothy smile, He Gets to Eat at the Faculty Club, his canvas messenger bag lightly smacking Rook’s thigh as he exits. She wants to run after him, yank his hair back and ask how he could tell she didn’t belong? Was it her shoes? Her slacks? Could he smell that they were on sale?

Emmrich stands. “I’m delighted you found your way out here, not many from the land of the living visit the catacombs.” She tilts her head. “Department joke. Please, sit.” 

He’s just as put-together as he was over the weekend. His desk is chocolatey, clearly an antique, and he keeps spirits on a bar cart under a portrait of masked bodies, cloaked and sallow. She only knows about The Lichdom, one of the university’s most secret societies, because of a story she heard as an undergraduate years ago. Something about sacrificial rites and immortality. A girl named Johanna had died trying to achieve it. Something tells her Professor Volkarin knows much more than she might’ve guessed. He’s dangerous. 

She takes a seat. 

“I wanted to know more about forensic archaeology. Someone as ‘timeless’ as me ought to understand the … side-effects … of history, too, don’t you think?”

He smiles. At first, it comes across as eager. A chance to gab and go on about his studies. Maybe he’ll bring up Manfred, the mummy he uncovered that got him his first big break. She’d done her research on him. Spent the rest of her weekend combing through his Wikipedia article and photos of him back in the day. Khakis rolled up, linen shirt cuffed around his forearms as the sun sets over the dunes behind him. Jet hair, ungelled, like silk spilling on his brows and signature mustache quirked up in a grin. A fox laughing before he lunges into a bite. 

She realizes that’s the smile he’s wearing now, too. He runs his fingers over his knuckles, back straight and eyes unfocused. “There’s a spot on Cross Road. Death’s Final Call. The bartender knows what they’re doing. Why don’t we trade our trade secrets over something stiff?” His eyes widen as he hears how it sounds. He coughs and straightens a pen to align with his leather desk mat. Cross Road is between her building and his. Perhaps he’s done his research, too. The thought makes her tighten in expectation. This isn’t brunch. But it’s not necessarily off-the-clock. 

“What time were you thinking?”

“I’m at my best after ten.”

This is definitely off-the-clock. 

“How do you expect me to believe you when you’ve got a rap sheet of being a big mouth that’s older and shittier than that litter box you still drive.”

Bellara’s staring at another student’s attempt at calculations, too stunned, apparently, by whatever’s on the page that all she can write are a series of question marks. 

“As sweet as you are, Rook, I think you’ll just have to take my word on this one. Besides, you of all people should know what a detective your mom is once she sets her sights on something. Remember the Case of the Missing Condoms?” Mother had rung the poor boy’s neck once she found out what happened after the prom. They hadn’t even done anything. ‘It’s the thought that counts,’ she always said. She has a knack for twisting garden-variety parental inclinations into something lovingly vicious. That background in kitchen-counter-combat is probably why Rook is who she is, studies what she studies. She hasn’t thought about it much, clearly. 

It also means that when her mother doesn’t know something, it’s because she’s giving Rook the chance to come clean. Like if your priest was also your interrogator, prosecutor and parent. 

“She wants him to come to dinner.”

Bellara pretends she’s not nervous. She’s a liar. And a shit one, at that. “Oh?”

“Yeah. She has the date picked out and everything. I’m gonna have an aneurism.”

Her companion hums in sympathy. “I don’t envy you, Rook. How does Emmrich feel about all this?” 

She picks at her nails. “He doesn’t know yet.” She sees in the corner of her eye as Bellara rests her head in her hands. There will be no more grading done this afternoon. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Why am I not surprised that this place is, like, an actual speakeasy.”

When she arrives, he’s already made himself at home in a booth, red leather and gold embellishments striking an old-world contrast with his features. She doesn’t mention that she’d had to ask around to find out where this bar slash club really was. Lucanis had been more than confused, asking What would you be doing at a place like that - partying with the dead? She understands a bit better what he means. She can feel decades of ghosts brushing her shoulders, crowding the air. There’s a live band playing something Billy Holiday. 

“I was worried I’d be keeping you past your bedtime,” he jests, hand floating to the other end of the booth, palm outstretched, pale and nearly reflective. She’s already nervous. She can’t stop blinking. She hopes sitting will help. 

It doesn’t. 

“Please. Most of my students don’t begin emailing until midnight, anyway. I’ve considered moving my office hours from one to three when they’re all finished with their Dungeons and Dragons campaigns and Call of Duty group calls.” 

He doesn’t know what she’s talking about and why would he. She wants to headbutt the table in contrition for breaking the spell he’s cast. One where the clock has rewound and the fact that he’s there, and she’s here, and he’s holding himself like it’ll take one little sign from her before he lunges across the leather and grips her against his lap - well, it wouldn’t be much of a surprise. But she’s already gotten a stare from one or two patrons. She’s the youngest person here, by far, and it leads her to ask, “Hey, what am I doing here?” 

She means it more to herself but he answers nonetheless. 

“Hopefully learning a bit about my side of history.”

She reaches to the candle at the center of the table, twisting it around, staring at the flame. She could blow it out right now. Or slam her palm down and feel the tiny burn. “C’mon, doctor. We both know I don’t belong here.”

He gets what she’s saying. But looks up at the wall behind her. Then to the wall next to them. And, slowly, all around. “You’ve always belonged here, my dear.”

There are photographs of girls, no, women - smiles beaming, eyes looking off into the distance. Perhaps an old friend has just come through the door. Or a lover. Or another round. In each one, people are laughing. She sees her nose in one photo. Her eyes in another. In the photograph above their table, a man is whispering into his paramour’s ear. She’s covering her mouth, something mischievous and red-hot in her stare down the camera. They know something we’ll never understand. A secret. Perhaps he picked this table on purpose. 

“Now I get what you meant by calling me ancient.”

He laughs. “I fear I’m the ancient one.”

So it’s not lost on him. The dynamic they’re brewing. But he doesn’t seem to care. Things like this weren’t anything for, well, ever. It doesn’t have to be a big deal. He sees her as a woman. One who’s smart and suave enough to take to a bar slash historical monument. 

Two drinks are placed before them. Another piece of his magic spell. She can tell he’s drinking absinthe. Green fairy parties were all the rage, she hears, over in the “catacombs”. She supposes this proves the rumors true. For her, he’s ordered something black and smoking. 

“It’s their signature cocktail. Shroud’s Kiss.”

He doesn’t own a smartphone which means she has to call. It makes things better. Creamier. Only talking to him when she can actually talk. Well, except for that time she emailed him a photo from that night she wore that thing. He’d been furious that she would send something so sensitive over a method as fragile as a school-sanctioned inbox. He was so furious, in fact, that he’d shown up at her apartment, mustache a bit sweaty and coat thrown on over a collared shirt and memorable khakis. He made her put that thing on again.

She stands underneath the Engineering building’s awning, watching the sky churn itself dark. He picks up midway into the second ring. 

– Darling! –

“Hey, hon. You free Friday night?”

– For you, dearest, always. What did you have in mind? –

“My, um. Well, ha,” she’s not really laughing. It’s more like a couple, successive huffs. “My parents have found out about you, us , through no will of my own and now they want to hold you hostage for an evening.”

He’s silent on the other end. She can hear music in the background. He must be at home. She’s disturbed his peace. 

– I suppose the time has come, then. I would be honored to meet your family. –

She wraps the call up quickly after, before he has a chance to change his mind. It’s not that she thought he’d bail. But she’s had a spell cast of her own. Never inviting him to her office. Only sharing the bits of her apartment he’d find sweet, like her thrifted lampshades and her thick, bouncy mattress. When she visits his place, she wears things she knows he’ll like. Satin blouses. Wool trousers. She paints her lips in Movie Red and watches videos on how to do bedroom eyes. They read together. He makes tea. She’s expanded her vernacular and lets herself talk about her interests because he’ll find it sexy. She knows things. She can handle her Shroud Kisses. She can handle him. 

When she first sees the suit he chose, Chesterfield green and narrowly cut, a gold pin adorning his eggplant tie, she’s turned on. He holds the door of his car open, watching her sink into the butter-leather seats. She loves this car. One day, she’ll convince him to fuck her in this car. It’s as sturdy as a hearse, haunting and luxurious. When he drives her, she rolls down the windows so people can look at her and marvel. She leaves a pair of sunglasses in the glovebox and considers asking for one of those silk scarves for Christmas. So she can gaze at the masses while keeping her hair just right. The thought makes her shiver down deep in her chest. 

It’s once he shuts the door that she feels ashamed. This dress wasn’t cheap. And she knows she looks good. Taller and slimmer and more elegant than usual. Like a girl who belongs here. But she also knows his cufflinks cost more than her ensemble, combined. She chose not to wear anything he’s bought her to avoid the wrong impression. Her parents would clock it, instantly, and shoot their eyes up to poor, defenseless Emmrich, confused why they think he’d need to pay for sex. 

Then she considers how her home will look. How her father will look. In his plaid shirt and worn through jeans. It’s the nicest thing he can be corralled into. And her mother. With her department store tops that could pass for being expensive. But Emmrich would know. She notices the bouquet of flowers in the backseat. They’re rare. Only grow in the darkest, dampest environments. She can’t remember if they own a vase. In the time it takes him to round the car and slide into the driver’s seat, she hates him. It falls away fast when he clicks on the stereo. Vivaldi’s playing and the lights of the city begin gleaming behind them on their journey to suburbia. She hasn’t said a word.

“You know, I’m rather excited for tonight,” he offers. “I’ve. Well. Truth be told, I’ve never met a lover’s parents.” She’s confused. He notices. “Things have never really gotten to that point. Either that, or their parents are dead.” He smiles as he says it. Something about it is too unserious. 

“Well, I’m happy to expand your repertoire of experience, then.”

She feels his hand fall, featherlike, onto her lap, outstretched. She takes the bait and locks their fingers, his rings chilling her to the bone.

“This is something I’ve always wanted. Thank you.”

She doesn’t notice they’re parked in her driveway. Is it really too late to cancel?

The curtain from the upstairs window snaps shut. It is. It’s too late. The walk to the door is a death march. They should’ve played Shostakovich for the drive. Would’ve been more appropriate. She doesn’t notice he’s still holding her hand until footsteps begin approaching. In a moment of unthinking nerves and rage, she rips her hand from his, smoothing her dress, not looking his way and staring at the outdoor light. If he’s upset, he doesn’t let it show. But she can feel his stare. 

The door creaks open before she can explain that him touching her right now would be too much too fast too soon and too suffocating. 

Her mother doesn’t even look at her. 

“Madame, a true pleasure.” He extends his imported bouquet, smiling and offering a minute bow. In any other circumstance, he’d thank her for rendering Mother speechless. She hears her father in the kitchen. 

“Don’t let ‘em get cold out there, hon, geez.”

Her mother grips the flowers, and for a moment, she’s worried the stems will snap. But she slowly moves from the door, allowing them inside. Rook paces to the kitchen, leaving them alone. “Hey, dad, do we have a vase, or something?”

He smiles. “Aw, the little fuck brought flowers? You know we don’t have a vase, Rookie. You tryna set him up, or something? Make the guy look bad?” 

“No.”

He pats her back. “I’ll figure something out. Why don’t you give him a tour while I finish up dinner, yeah?”

She’s not sure her mother’s said a word since she’s been gone. Instead, she takes the opportunity to grab Emmrich’s wrist, leading him up the stairs. “We’re going on a tour. Be down soon.”

She can feel him pulling back, wanting to look at the family photos hung up along the stairwell. She barrels forward. “Bathroom. Their room. Office.” They stop in front of a door with a pink, sparkly and sprinkled sign hanging. 

Rookie.

In his eyes, she sees adoration. He reaches his hand forward, about to glide over the scribbling before deciding against it. He won’t handle something so precious. Before she can stop him, he lets himself inside, beginning to scan every inch of her old bedroom. 

There are posters on the ceiling. Out-of-fashion polaroids taped on her window. The bookshelves are full of childish stories and the place is messy in a way that suggests it’s just as she’s left it. Photos of her at beach-days with friends are framed. There’s a teddy bear near his foot. She watches as he begins winding himself into a tower. Arms crossed, holding himself. His breathing has shifted. She doesn’t think that she’s ever seen him uncomfortable. Her spell isn’t just breaking. It's shattering. It’s not meant for her, what he says next, but she hears it, nonetheless.

“What am I doing here?”