#sarcastic-raspberry

[ladsonlads]

Impartial Hearts | Sylus - Part One

Pairing -> Boss Sylus x Non MC Reader

Parts -> Part One | Part Two

Synopsis -> You’ve been working as Onychinus’s accountant for two years, and you’ve been carrying two heavy secrets for a third of it. You were in love with your boss, and your mother was dying.

A/N -> Guys this shit is just sad icl I need to lay off the sad songs... anyways, reader is not MC but MC is mentioned I called her 'Miss Hunter' or 'MC' bc I couldn't come up with a name, sorry.

EDIT: Thanks for all the love <33333 I honestly didn’t expect so many people to want a part two, I promise it’s in the works and I’ll try to get it out ASAP.

Trigger Warnings -> Death mentioned, heart issues mentioned.

Word Count -> 7.3K

“I’m sorry, what?” The question slipped out of your lips without much of an attempt from your brain to restrain it. You regretted that instantly.

“Watch your tone, Y/N.” The scarily low timbre in Sylus’s voice threatened retribution if you didn’t.

“Sorry… It’s just that— are you sure? I feel like this is a decision that requires a little bit more contemplation. Like getting a dog!” You tried to backpedal, but from the look of Sylus’s narrowing eyes, he wasn’t happy with your response. 

“Are you comparing her to a dog?” There was a threat thinly encased in Sylus’s question and under the thick layers of fear, you felt the slightest pang of jealousy that the he felt so strongly about defending her honour. 

What a dramatic and far-fetched conclusion. You wanted to say, but instead you bit your tongue. 

“N-No! Of course not. Not at all. I’m just wondering if wiring her such a significant sum from your equity account is a good idea when you met her—” You make a show of glancing at your shabby watch “— 13 hours ago is a sound decision.”

“So you’re questioning my judgement? Is that it?” 

You couldn’t blame him for being difficult, you walked right into that one. 

“No! Well… yes?” One would think that after two years of working for Sylus, you’d have the ability to stand your ground against him. But there was only so far someone could push a man like Sylus before he deemed you irredeemable. The consequence of which involved a hollow point in your skull. 

“Wrong answer. Wire it. Now. I’ll deal with your insubordination later.” He quickly left the room that doubled as your ‘office’; you shared it with the twins who liked to use it as their reprieve from crime. You wouldn’t have minded had they chosen less rambunctious ways of cooling-down, like reading or watching a show. Instead they’d play-fight, actually fight, play video games on the loudest volume or — the worst option of all — karaoke. 

The sarcastic yes sir died on your tongue as quickly as it crossed your mind. You pissed him off far more than usual today, and he was already way more tense since her arrival. 

Miss Hunter. Sylus kept her first name under lock-and-key, said it was safer that way. You barely caught a glimpse of her as Sylus dragged her out of his office, which was across from yours. From the glimpse you did catch, she was beautiful. Fair skin, jet black hair, a fit body. Her outfit, which was the Hunter’s Association standard issue uniform, had never looked so good. 

From what you knew from shameless eavesdropping, she was extremely important to Sylus. She was part of some critical master plan you weren’t privy to. 

You hated her.

Albeit, completely unfounded, your hatred for her stemmed from an ugly feeling you could not shake. In the two years you worked as an accountant for Onychinus, Sylus touched you once. Correction, you touched him once accidentally when you had too much to drink with the twins after work. You were taking careful steps to the bar to pour yourself another glass of a gross vodka raspberry mixture when you tripped on the edge of one of Sylus’s extremely expensive rugs. Your feet pedalled forward in an attempt to keep you upright, and you clashed right into Sylus who was innocently scrolling through his phone on the wall next to the bar. 

You could recall the fear you felt vividly. You almost felt the same wedge lodged in your throat. Sylus quickly removed you from him, steadying you with his cold palms on your shoulders (an action that made you blush like a schoolgirl) before verbally deeming you cut-off from all liquor from the night.

That was the full extent of all physical contact you’d had with Sylus in two whole years, meanwhile it took Miss Hunter less than 24-hours before he was holding her hand. God, you hated her.

“Oi, Y/N, we’re using the company card for lunch today.” Luke quickly yelled out to you from the hallway, too engrossed in your self-loathing and plain old regular loathing, you forgot to remind Luke that they only had $40 left on their weekly lunch budget. 

Knowing the twins, they wouldn’t have cared anyway, creating yet another problem you had to fix.

Looking at the excel sheet that contained this month’s trial balance, you shivered at the thought of having to deal with Sylus’s wrath at yet another monthly increase in expenses. So, you shifted the remaining balance on your lunch budget, a generous $255, into the twin’s joint account. It was only Thursday morning, and they’d managed to max-out their $1000 budget. 

You hated them too.

You looked through your drawer in hopes you had a leftover snack that could sadly double as your lunch and felt a wave of relief at the sight of a protein bar. 

It wasn’t like Sylus didn’t pay you enough to afford your own lunch, in fact he was the most generous employer you’d ever had. But the only thing bigger than his bank account was corporate greed, and the blood-sucking heathens at Akso hospital were milking you dry.

Life in the N109 Zone wasn’t easy for most people, especially your mother who raised you all on her own after your father left. She worked 3 jobs to put you through university in Linkon, so the least you could do was use every last cent you made on ensuring she had the best medical treatment money could buy. 

Your mother had a bad heart ever since she was born, it was a hereditary condition that would sometimes skip a generation only to show up in the next. She had an atrial septal defect, or in another words, a hole in her heart. You were born with one too, although yours was much smaller. She’d undergone several surgeries to repair the hole, but it reopened, and now the scar tissue surrounding the surgical site was obstructing her arteries. She was now on bypass patiently awaiting a heart transplant you couldn’t quite afford, but you’d make it happen. You were sure of it. 

With half the protein bar in your mouth, you began to call Dr Zayne, the cardiovascular surgeon who was overseeing your mother’s care. You called him for updates on your mother and the transplant list every day, since a train ticket to Linkon was too big an expense to justify, you’d settle for Dr Zayne’s cold recollections of your mother’s heart function. 

“Ah, Miss L/N, I was beginning to think you weren’t going to call today.” The dead-pan sarcasm dripped from his tone. 

“Your bedside manner needs serious work.” You bit back. You weren’t sure when or how your relationship with your mother’s doctor turned so hostile, but you figured the busy chief of surgery was annoyed by your constant calls.��

“Need I remind you, Y/N, you’re not the patient.” 

“There isn’t a waking second I’m not thinking about the patient, Dr Zayne.” 

An uncomfortable silence hung in the air at your confession. You didn’t mean to make him feel guilty, in all honesty, you looked forward to the banter before the updates on your mom, it helped ease the nerves. 

“Do you want to see her?”

“Of course, but I’m working a lot.”

“No, I mean right now.”

“Are you finally letting me borrow the hospital helicopter?”

“No, but I will let you borrow my phone so you can FaceTime her.”

His kind offer caught you off guard. “Really?!”

“Sure, you caught me in a rare moment where I don’t have someplace to be.”

“It must be Christmas.”

“Rarer than Christmas. Think solar eclipse.”

“Okay, okay, I get it. Now give me my mother.”

Zayne kept his promise, and you spoke to your mother for your entire lunch break, and then some. You would’ve continued talking to her until the sunset if not for Sylus’s interruption. 

“I don’t pay you to FaceTime your friends, Y/N.”

“Sorry, I have to go. Talk to you later. I love you!” Your mother rasped out that she loved you too before you quickly hung up the phone. 

“Sorry.” Your apology fell on deaf ears as Sylus took slow, deliberate steps toward your desk. 

“Do you hate this job?” Sylus’s asked this deceivingly innocuous question while sliding a finger across the mahogany tabletop. 

“Um… no?” You placed your hands in your lap as you answered to hide the slight tremor. 

“You sound unsure.” 

“I like this job very much.” You made the declaration with as much confidence as you could muster. Your mood was already depleted from seeing your mother’s sick face for the first time in months. She wasn’t looking any healthier, and Zayne told you she’d barely moved up the list. 

107. There were 107 people who’s lives were more important than the woman who raised you. You were well aware that wasn’t the way they calculated the metric, but it didn’t make the number hurt any less. 

Sylus let out an sigh that suggested whatever he’d say next was a much tamer version of what he truly wanted to say. “Then I’d suggest you start acting like it. Remember, sweetheart, everyone’s replaceable. Especially you.” 

His comment stung like antiseptic on an open wound, though you were sure that was his intention. 

“Right. Of course. I won’t let you down.” 

“For your sake, I hope not. The twins told me they went to that seafood buffet for lunch, you haven’t let them go over the budget again, have you?” 

You quickly pulled up the online banking account connected to the company card. You saw the $189.95 charge for the seafood buffet and swallowed the lump in your throat. 

“Nope, it’s all dandy.” You gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. He noticed. 

“Good. You wire that money like I asked?” The venom in his tone alleviated, and you were glad at least one thing seemed to have worked out for you that day. 

But alas, your joy was short-lived.

“Yes, an hour ago, but it’s still processing until you put in your access code.” You moved away from the computer to give him room to step around and put in the code like he usually did. However, his feet never moved from their position in front of your desk.

“Why didn’t you tell me that?” Just like that, his voice was all venom again. 

You were beginning to grow agitated with his misplaced anger constantly being taken out on you. It didn’t happen often, but when it did, he’d tear into you like a bear would a boxing bag and then act like everything was fine the next day. You never got an apology, you knew not to expect one. 

But lately these fits of unbridled rage came about more often than not, and Sylus took a shovel to your mole hill of resolve every time. 

“I always need your access code on transfers over $500,000. I’ve never told you before, I just assumed—” 

“Are you stupid?” You didn’t bother answering the mean rhetorical question. “What about this transaction seemed usual to you? Did I not convey my urgency effectively earlier? Or are there rocks where your brain should be?” His voice never went up in volume, but you could tell he was angry. Livid even. Seething with fury at your supposed incompetence. 

Your eyes welled up with tears at his outburst. Normally you could take whatever insults he’d throw at you with little outward reaction, but you were particularly sensitive from the sandwich-shaped hole in your stomach, and the maternal hole in your heart which ached every second, reminding you of the much bigger one your mother bore.

Before you could stop it, a tear rolled down your cheek, and the second you registered the sensation you quickly went to wipe it. 

“Stop crying.” Sylus ordered.

“I’m not—crying.” Your voice betrayed you, a hitch in your throat interrupting the sentence. The tears began to stream down faster, so fast your hands couldn’t keep up. 

You prepared yourself for a speech about how weak you were, how he wouldn’t tolerate such inane shows of infirmity. But all Sylus did was watch as you embarrassingly tried to pull yourself together. 

You weren’t sure how much time passed before Sylus moved next to you, hunching down to input his code into the transaction. His eyes glanced at the second monitor, displaying the company card’s account, and he zeroed in at the twin’s charge, and your lack thereof.

“Did you have lunch?” Sylus’s voice was softer, you attributed that to the fact that he was inches away from you. The question was so out of left-field it actually caused your tears to cease. 

“Yeah?”

“You didn’t use the card.” Your eyes followed his to the bank statement and you let out a sigh of relief. 

“Oh, I had some extra cash on me I wanted to get rid of.”

“You’re supposed to use the card, Y/N. That’s what it’s for.”

“It’s fine, I’ll have an extra big lunch tomorrow. Granted you’re not firing me?” You were only half-joking, but you could’ve sworn you saw the corners of his lips perk up in an almost-smile before he shut it straight down. 

“I won’t fire you if you tell me what’s got you this upset? I’m not so proud as to assume it was me.” It was that moment you realised Sylus was capable of feeling empathy. He was aware of how hurtful he was being all those times he’d berate you over the smallest inconveniences for virtually no reason, and he simply didn’t care. 

It was far worse to know that he did possess empathy, but chose not to extend it to you. 

“It’s just that time of the month.” You lied, convincingly. You’d mull over your blatant betrayal to feminism later, but for now you needed a means of shutting this inquiry down and quickly. You didn’t want anyone knowing about your mom, you were sure the pity would destroy you. She wasn’t going to die, and you didn’t want people to treat you like she might. 

Sylus waited for the transfer to clear before he left. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding when the door closed behind him.

“Are you sure we only have $105 on our lunch budget.” Luke’s question grated on your frayed nerves.

“$105 and five cents.” Your distinction didn’t do much help. 

“Come on, can’t you do your weird accounty magic and make more appear? We want steak.” Kiernan’s plea wasn’t helping either. You’d exhausted every last option, anything else would definitely cause alarms when Sylus eventually reviewed the accounts. 

“I already did all I could, I gave you an extra $255!” And a fat good that did you, now you were hungry and annoyed.

“Well, we both know there’s plenty more where that came from.”

There really wasn’t, but you didn’t tell them that. 

“I’m sorry, $105 is all you’ve got.” 

“Fine. But we’re very unhappy with you, Y/N. Very unhappy.” Luke chastised you, but you couldn’t even pretend to care. 

“Better you than Sylus, now please leave.” The twins opened their mouths with a retort, but a domineering voice interrupted them. 

“You heard her. Beat it and stop bothering my accountant.” 

The twins scurried at the sound of Sylus’s voice, and you wondered how much of that conversation he overheard.

“So, where did that extra $255 come from, Y/N?”

Too much of the conversation. Way too much. 

“My budget.” You cut your losses and told him the truth. Any other answer would have surely pissed him off. 

“I give you $300 for the whole week. Your sandwich costs $15. Either you haven’t been eating, or you've been paying out of your own pocket against my orders. Which is it?” 

Well, that was a lose-lose situation if there ever was one. You didn’t want to deal with the questions about why you were skipping meals, so you lied again. You always were an exceptional liar, your mother taught you that the less people knew about you, the less they had to hurt you with.

“I made too much food for dinner so I had leftovers. It’s no biggie.” You didn’t even look up from your screen as the lie left your lips. 

“What leftovers?” He asked. 

“Pasta.” You answered. 

“What kind?”

“Alfredo.”

“With mushrooms?”

“Yeah.”

“You hate mushrooms.” 

Shit. Why did he know that?

“I had a change of heart.”

“You’re lying.”

You bit your lip in worry, wondering how you were going to get yourself out of this one.

You stalled as much as you could, pretending to be engrossed in something on your screen, until the sound of Sylus’s phone ringing broke the tension. 

You internally thanked every deity that could possibly be watching over you as he took the call, and prayed to all of them that it would be something urgent. 

You heard the faint sounds of a feminine voice through his phone.

“Kitten, where are you?”

Wait, who’s kitten? 

“Just calm down, tell me where you are.” Sylus didn’t even give you a second glance as he quickly stormed out of your office. Leaving you to mull over the intimate pet name, knowing exactly who it was intended for.

As Sylus left the room you reflected on the cacophony your feelings created in your mind. You weren’t sure when you developed such strong feelings for Sylus — or why. His personality was the antithesis of yours. Where he would free fall off of the proverbial cliff of his life without a second thought, every risk you took was meticulously calculated. Where he was rough and respected, you were sort of a pushover. Where his deadpan sense of humour tended to elicit more fear than laughter, you had an awkward habit of cracking jokes in situations they were not appropriate.

You were polar opposites, two parallel lines that were destined never to intertwine. You figured that was why everything hurt so much around him. He wasn’t right for you, but he would be right for someone else. 

The envy you’d carried for so long began to subside for the first time in years. Sylus had an array of estranged lovers that he’d bring around his mansion every once in a while, and now Miss Hunter. But for the first time the reminder of that fact didn’t hurt as much as it usually did. 

It was Mid-September and you warned yourself that if you couldn’t eliminate all the romantic feelings you had for Sylus by the end of Autumn, you’d cut your losses and quit. 

Of course, you’d have to find another job that paid just as well, but you were willing to cross that bridge when it came to it. There was only so much turmoil your fragile heart could take, and if you were dead, your mother would be as good as dead too. 

Happy with your iron-clad plan, you opened up your notes app and began to draft ‘Operation Sylus: No More’. You could change the name later.

Operation Sylus: No More

The foolproof guide of getting rid of all feelings Sylus related by the end of November. 

Step 1: avoid Sylus and all thoughts of him at all costs.

Step 2: no more funny jokes, his laugh is seriously deadly. 

Step 3: force yourself to remember Miss Hunter in moments of weakness. She’s the one he really wants. 

Step 4: try to find love elsewhere, like the corner shop owner, he may be in his 50s and happily married but he’s kind of a silver-fox!

Step 5: do not, under any circumstances, allow yourself to be alone with Sylus for too long.

You looked back at your list, proud of the relatively easy steps to follow. This should be a cakewalk. Whoever said you couldn’t be the master of your own feelings clearly never met you. 

“Boss needs you in his office. He says bring your laptop.” Kiernan’s voice broke your focus. You were almost finished with the end of year report for this financial year, a task Sylus forced you to complete annually. It was meaningless, considering Onychinus wasn’t necessarily a legitimate business listed on the stock exchange, but you took it seriously nonetheless. 

“Okay, I’ll be right there.” You felt Kiernan’s eyes bore into you as you continued to make minor edits to the report. You’d sleep so much better once this 180 page document was out of your life. 

“He needs you now, Y/N. We’re both toast if you make him wait.” You sighed and couldn’t help but roll your eyes at Sylus’s lack of empathy for your large workload. 

You berated your past self for being so eager for this role, completing far too many tasks far too quickly, and setting the precedent that you were some sort of accounting machine. You really should learn to stick to the bare minimum. 

You walked over to the door leading to his office, and gave it a soft rap with your knuckles. The door opened by itself, or rather with the help of Sylus’s evol, to the sight of him leaning back in his chair, with Miss Hunter sitting directly in front of him on his desk.

Step 3 of your guide felt less like a friendly reminder and more like a stab in the gut. Think of corner-shop man. Think of corner-shop man. Think of corner-shop man.

“We don’t have all day, sit down, Y/N.” Sylus’s command woke you from your trance, and you hoped your envy wasn’t as obvious as you thought it was. 

This was the first time you’d seen Miss Hunter up close, and when your eyes travelled to meet hers, she gave you a warm smile. You felt like the shittiest person to exist for ever hating her.

Your eyes scanned the room for somewhere to sit. The chairs opposite his seemed like they would intrude on the intimate moment he was clearly having with Miss Hunter, so you settled on an armchair in the corner that had a coffee table in front of it. 

Sylus sighed and didn’t even bother to ask you to move before he used his evol to whisk you up and deposit your body onto the chair at his table like a rag doll. You hated when he used his evol on you, it felt like the arms of a prickly cactus. 

“In a few minutes, I’ll be getting a phone call from a possible investor. He’s extremely exclusive and known for running tests on his potential partners before agreeing to invest with them. My intel suggests he’s going to propose a joint project, but the numbers he’ll give me will be far off. I need to counter-propose numbers that would generate a high return and quickly, or he’ll hang up and I’ll never hear from him again. So, open up your laptop and prepare, because if you tank this for me, there will no longer be a place for you here. Understood?”

When Sylus did things like that, it made it easier to love him a little less. He could be a complete and utter dick sometimes, and while you’d learned to accept it as a human flaw, recently it seemed more like a permanent predisposition. 

Perhaps Sylus was nice to you because you were entertaining, now that he had someone better to occupy his time, you were nothing more than a forgotten bygone. 

“Yeah, I got it.” You opened up an excel sheet with a project analysis template. These were the types of questions you’d get in your first year accounting courses but you let Sylus think it was much harder than it actually was — just to make him sweat. 

When the phone rang, Sylus’s muscles grew tense and Miss Hunter gave him a comforting squeeze on his shoulder. You bit your lip to hide the sudden scowl on your face. Think of corner-shop man. Think of corner-shop man. Think of corner-shop man.

Your eyes bore into your excel sheet with an intensity that would’ve produced laser beams in an alternate reality. You focused entirely on the calculations, listening intently to the brassy voice of the investor on the phone. 

It didn’t take you long to generate the minimum initial investment they’d need to generate some form of return, as well as the payback period. You wrote the numbers down on a notepad, and you let him do the rest. 

When you heard the investor let out a humorous ‘I’m impressed’ you packed up your laptop and left the room without so much as a wave. You felt Sylus and Miss Hunter’s eyes follow you out of the room, but you didn’t bother looking back.

You felt the thin line between love and hate begin to grow blurry. Where Sylus was concerned, your feelings were as clear as the muddy water in a swamp. Maybe two and a half months was too much time. You needed these feelings gone expeditiously. 

You decided to take your lunch early, and you left the extravagant mansion that doubled as HQ to find your bike. You couldn’t really afford a car, or a license, but your bright yellow bike could do everything a car could for a fraction of the price. You were in the process of strapping up your helmet when Luke walked up. 

“What’s up with you lately?” His question was inevitable. You wondered how long it would take for someone to notice that you were fighting internal battles on every front. Your mother’s health, Sylus’s sudden chronic asshole syndrome flareup, your dwindling bank account. 

“Nothing, I’ve just been tired.”

“Well, we’re having a few friends over tonight. Just a small group, if you’re not too tired, you should come.” Luke was the more sociable twin, and he was most likely extending this invitation to you out of pity, but you’d take anything over being trapped in your own mind. 

“Will there be alcohol?” You quipped.

“Duh.” Luke’s response brought the first genuine smile to your face in weeks. 

“I’ll be there.” After your agreement, you cycled away toward the corner shop for lunch.

It was a quaint bakery/deli run by a Turkish man who you knew on a first name basis. He was aged-like-fine-wine handsome. Features weathered tastefully by age, with a full head of hair that quelled your fears of your future children inheriting the early onset male pattern baldness gene. 

But when you entered the store and saw Mr Demir, there were no butterflies. Your heart didn’t skip a beat. Your hands didn’t even quiver as you paid for the sandwich. In fact, they were so steady you figured you could give Dr Zayne a run for his money. 

Speaking of Dr Zayne, his daily updates were growing scarcer in detail, and you were worried that something was wrong. He insisted he was just busy and since your mother had moved up to 93 on the transplant list, you let it slide. 

“You know you’re allowed to try the other sandwiches, right?” Mr Demir’s handsome face contorted into a teasing smile, and if he didn’t own this shop with his beautiful wife, you might’ve asked him to marry you then and there. 

“I like this one. Your family is very talented.” You smiled at him, but it seemed even he could tell that it wasn’t genuine.

“You’re getting skinnier you know, and you haven’t been coming as often. Is something wrong or are you cheating on me with a salad store?” His joke brought a giggle out of you. 

You never thought that people noticed you in a way that was significant. You felt as if you were akin to a missing bird poster on a telephone pole in the middle of a busy street. People would glance at it, remember how common and undistinguishable birds are, and forget it ever existed.

Mr Demir’s concern warmed your heart, and you promised that if you ever won the lottery, you would give him half. 

“I’ve just been cooking more, that’s all. Thank you Mr Demir, say hello to your wife for me!” You gave him a small wave as you exited the shop and the weight suffocating your chest was a little lighter.

Mr Demir’s family had boundless love to share, and while their shop was small, they were happy. Maybe things would work out for you and your mother after all. 

The rest of the workday passed by like a fever dream. You finally managed to complete the annual report, a copy of it sitting in Sylus’s email, surely unopened. He left soon after that phone call with Miss Hunter, you didn’t bother to ask where.

The mansion was empty when you turned off the last monitor, and you thought you’d start pre-gaming early. Sylus always warned all of you that his bar was off-limits unless he stated otherwise, but the man had so much alcohol, you doubted he’d ever notice. 

He only drank red wine and whiskey, and you hated wine, so you settled for an almost full bottle of whiskey. You took one sip and realised you couldn’t stand the taste either, but it was still better than the wine, so you chugged glass after glass like they were shots. 

The heavy alcohol burned your throat on the way down and continued to burn in your stomach, but the feeling kept you warm so you didn’t really mind. You’d consumed half the bottle by the time the twins returned with two other men and one girl following in suit.  

“Y/N! Good, you’re here. Help me set up the drinks on the table.” You nodded your head at Luke’s request, knowing your speech would likely be slurred. 

You helped him line up the bottles of cheap tequila, vodka, fireball and a fear-inducing amount of absinthe. These cheap spirits were much more your speed.

“Alright, we’re starting with truth or dare. Pick your poison and sit around the coffee table.” Kiernan’s announcement had everyone scattering around the coffee table with cups in hand. You opted for the fireball, too scared to mix alcohol this early in the night. 

You recognised everyone from another one of the twin’s impromptu parties. They only ever threw them when they were sure Sylus would be gone overnight. You didn’t let yourself dwell on where he was or who he was with. 

The game was more entertaining than you expected, everyone had interesting questions, and when it came to dares, the twins always had something sadistic in mind. 

It was your turn when they decided to up the stakes. You were already wasted, so you committed to answering whatever question they pummelled at you. 

“Truth.”

“You’re so boring, you always pick truth.” Luke whined, his arm shaking yours in protest.

“That’s because I’m scared of your dares.”

Luke rolled his eyes but conceded.

“Fine. How many people have you slept with?”

All conversations came to a stifling halt as everyone’s eyes landed on you. Far too embarrassed to tell 5 people you barely knew that you were still a virgin, you changed your answer. There was nothing to be ashamed of, but you knew the twins would mercilessly make fun of you, and you didn't have the energy to explain that between the constant pressure to succeed for your mother, and her eventual illness, your love life had been placed on the back-burner.

“Dare.”

“You know the rules, if you switch options and refuse to do it, you have to finish everyone’s drinks.”

“Yeah, yeah. Hit me.” You glared at Luke with determination. You should’ve known that when everyone was this drunk, the dares could only get progressively more outrageous.

“I dare you to call Sylus and tell him you crashed his McLaren.” Luke looked proud of his dare, and the smile dropped from your face instantly. 

Even Kiernan’s eyes flashed with concern before he broke out into an obnoxious laugh.

“Oh- Holy shit! That’s gold.” The words left Kieran’s mouth in-between his laughter. Everyone around the table looked at you eagerly.

You knew if you finished off everyone’s cups you’d definitely die, or worse, throw up. 

“Fine.” Too drunk to realise the implications of what you were doing, you dialled Sylus. There was also the chance he just didn’t pick up, but four and a half rings later his annoyed voice resounded through the speaker of your phone. 

“What is it?” From the sound of Sylus’s tone, you’d interrupted something important. You bit down the bitter feelings that threatened to spill out, and stuck to the objective.

“I have something to tell you, but you have to promise you won’t get mad.” There was no universe in which Sylus couldn’t tell you were drunk.

In all honesty, your phone call was a welcome reprieve from his mind-numbingly boring conversation with Linkon’s politicians. He’d offered to attend this event with MC with little thought as to what it would pertain. His eyes raked over her baby pink dress, and since he couldn’t get her out of it just yet, he entertained your drunk rambling.

“I don’t have to do anything.” Sylus expected you to apologise, but all he heard was a sound foreign to him. Were you laughing? Sylus heard indecipherable voices in the background, and he found himself wondering who was making you laugh. 

“True. Okay well, you know that dark grey sports car you love soooooooooooo much?” Nice going, Y/N, remind him just how much he loves this car. You thought. The phone was on speaker, per the requests of the fellow attendees. 

Everyone bit back laughs at the situation which was extremely unfunny to anyone with a blood alcohol level under 0.05. 

“What did you do?” Sylus’s question had a deadly underpinning, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“I crashed it!” At your exclamation, the room exploded in laughter, and you muted the microphone quickly before Sylus could hear it.

“You crashed it?”

You quickly unmuted to add. “Yup! Absolutely totalled.”

“Are you okay? Where are you? I’m coming.” 

The laughter immediately died down. That was not how he was supposed to react, not at all. 

Luke and Kiernan gestured for you to shut it down and you quickly began to backtrack.

“No! No you don’t have to come home. I’m fine. It was just a prank.”

“Oh, so you’re at my place?” ShitShitShitShitShit.

“Yes… The twins and I had too much to drink and we thought it would be funny to prank you. I’m sorry, I really shouldn’t have interrupted your night.”

You braced yourself for the angry lecture on how Sylus’s time was more valuable the rarest ruby, but it never came.

“Just you and the twins, right?”

Luke and Kiernan gestured for you to agree.

“Yes.”

“You should probably call an exorcist.” Were you drunk or did he actually just tell you to call an exorcist?

“Huh?” Everyone in the room looked just as perplexed.

“You know, since those three other people in my living room must be apparitions.” 

“You didn’t rig the camera?” Kiernan’s shrill scream was definitely registered by the phone’s mic. 

“Fuck! I forgot.” Luke exclaimed in response as they scrambled to pack everything up. 

“Um…” With everyone frantically running around the room, you were left to deal with Sylus’s wrath alone.

“How come you never laugh when you’re with me?” And with that question you were convinced the alcohol had induced auditory hallucinations.

“You’re not very funny.” You decided to play along, after all, imaginary Sylus was much more fun than the real one.

“Hmm, I thought I was.”

“Nope. All your jokes end in someone dying, and usually that someone is me.”

“Oh, sweetheart, those aren’t jokes.” That was something real Sylus would say. Damn, these auditory hallucinations were realistic.

“I know, I really thought you were going to kill me last week.” You let out an involuntary snort at the hilarious image of your head on a pike. 

“Why’s that?”

“Because I screwed up that wire transfer to Miss Hunter. You were soooo mad. You must reaaaalllyyyy like her.”

“I guess I do.” The line went quiet on both ends after that. 

This auditory hallucination was no fun following his confession, so you hung up. Sylus called a few times after, but you never noticed. The room began spinning and your eyes began watering, so you curled up on the floor until your head stopped pounding, but by then you were fast asleep.

Sylus returned to his mansion the next morning to find your office empty. It was still an hour before you were due to start, but you were always early. 

With an internal promise to check again in an hour, he walked toward the living room. It didn’t take long before he noticed a mop of light brown hair on his rug.

He walked toward your sleeping form with indignation, only to find every ounce of anger sucked out of him when he knelt down to find your sleeping face. 

He hadn’t been that close to you in what felt like forever. Was your face always that pale? His eyes caressed your under eye bags, and your hollow cheeks. He could’ve sworn they were fuller when he hired you. What happened to you? 

Before Sylus could give in to the urge to wake you up and ask, your phone made a sound from the coffee table. He picked it up and saw you were getting a call from Zayne.

Who the fuck was Zayne?

He answered the phone before he could think it through.

“Oh, Y/N, good. I’ve been trying to reach you since last night.”

“You should’ve taken the hint.” Sylus couldn’t help the bite in his tone. He wasn’t sure why he was so angry at this Zayne, but his emotions were beginning to confuse him more often than he cared to admit.

“Who’s this?”

Sylus could’ve said that he was your boss. He should’ve said that he was your boss. But what he said instead…

“Y/N’s mine.” His employee, but that distinction didn’t seem necessary in the moment.

“Well, could you tell her to call me back as soon as possible. I have urgent news about her mother.”

The comment about her mother perplexed Sylus even more. 

“Who are you?”

“I’m her mother’s heart surgeon. I have to go, have her call me soon.” Sylus felt stupid for the unnecessary show of hostility, but he only had more questions following Zayne’s answer.

It seemed the conversation was enough to wake you up from your slumber, and the moment you registered your surroundings, the headache you had was amplified tenfold. Your muscles hurt from sleeping on the hard floor, and you were sure your legs had morphed into jelly. 

You were never drinking again.

“Well hello, sleeping beauty.” Sylus watched as you groggily rubbed your eyes. The right side of your face had an indent matching the pattern of his rug, and your hair was dishevelled. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

“Sylus. I’m so sorry.” You spoke through a yawn before cradling your head in your hands. The world needed to stop spinning.

Sylus shoved an open bottle of water in your face, and you greedily snatched the peace offering before he had time to change his mind.

“Zayne called, said he had some news about your mother.”

You shot straight up, spilling some water in the process.

“What did he say? Where’s my phone?” You glanced at large Sylus’s hand which was wrapped around said phone. If you weren’t so worried about your mother, you might’ve found the sight of Sylus holding something covered in a floral case amusing. Powering through the piercing pain in your temple, you held your hand out.

“Please give it back.” 

“What’s wrong with your mother?”

“Please Sylus, I can’t do this right now.” You tried to lunge for the phone, but he was faster. Raising his hand above his head and well out of your reach. 

“You’ll have this back once you answer my question.”

“She has the flu. Now give it back.” You jumped up in a feeble attempt to retrieve the phone, but he was just so goddamn tall. 

“I didn’t know flu treatment protocol involved heart surgery now. Guess I need to brush up on the latest medical news.” His sardonic tone made you scoff. Only Sylus could be such a dick while your mother's life was in limbo.

Curse Dr Zayne and his blabbermouth. 

If it wasn’t for the severe hangover, you might’ve been able to think of an explanation. But you were so nervous you felt sick and you needed to know the news Dr Zayne had.

“Fine. She needs a heart transplant, she’s on coronary bypass and if she doesn’t get a heart soon she’ll die. Is that good enough for you?” You continued to try to reach the phone, not bothering to check Sylus’s reaction to your confession. 

He dropped the phone in your hand and you all but sprinted out of the living room to make the phone call.

The line rang once, twice, three times before Zayne picked up.

“Y/N?”

“Yes! What’s wrong? Is my mom okay? Tell me she’s okay.”

“Slow down, she’s alive, but she had a cardiac event. Not a heart attack, but it still did some damage. Her condition is worse, much worse, Y/N. I’m sorry.” 

Your back slumped against the wall of the hallway and you felt your knees give in as you slid to the floor. 

“How long does she have?” The tears streaming down your face fell onto your shirt, leaving uncomfortable wet spots in their wake.

“A few weeks, a month’s top. But this did move her to the top of the list. She might get a transplant in time.” Zayne must have heard the sadness in your voice if he’d offered words of encouragement. He never did that. 

“Thank you. I’m going to come see her.”

“I’ll get the nurses to bring in an extra bed. I’ll see you soon, Y/N.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to respond so you hung up instead. The pain in your head was now but a mere memory as your heart began to splinter into a million little pieces. 

There was so much you still had to do. You needed to buy your mom her first ever house, and help her plant the prettiest flowers in the garden. You had to get her the dog she always dreamed about and the outdoor swing she missed from her childhood home. She still had to walk you down the aisle and sing your future children the lullabies she sang to you. She couldn’t go. Not yet. 

You didn’t even notice Sylus enter the hallway until you felt him sitting down next to you. He wove an arm behind your head, bringing your face into his chest. The intimacy of the act only made you cry harder. The last person to hold you that close was your mom, a few days before she’d collapsed. 

“It hurts.” You choked on your words and they came out muffled against Sylus’s chest.

“What hurts?” He asked. 

“My heart. It really hurts, Sylus.” You sobbed harder. It felt good to finally admit that you weren’t okay. To have someone hold you as your life fell apart around you. 

“Tell me what to do, Y/N. Anything.”

“Can I have some time off?” You took deep breaths as you tried to slow your crying down. You could break down once you reached the other side of this tumultuous predicament. 

The humble request drove Sylus insane. He’d offer you his own heart to save your mother if he wasn’t sure it was severely damaged, and all you could think to ask for was time off. 

“Of course.”

“Can you give me a ride to Linkon?” 

That request was a little better, but still not enough. 

“I’ll take you now, come on.”

“No wait, I need to go home and pack some things. I’ll be back in an hour.”

“You know you can still get a DUI on a pedal bike, right?”

“I’m not drunk.”

“But there’s still alcohol in your system, and you’re very upset. It won’t be safe, I’ll take you home on the way. Let’s go.” He stood up, his hand outstretched toward you. 

And with a heavy heart, you took Sylus’s hand.

[urmum-lovesme]

Dad!Rafe and baby Cameron's first laugh...

The big couch in the living room of Tannyhill had become their favourite spot for family time. Their baby girl was stretched out on the soft cushions, kicking her legs happily, her tiny fists waving in the air. Y/n lay on one side of her, propped up on her elbow, her head resting in her hand as she gently wiggled the baby’s foot around in the air playfully, capturing her daughter's attention. Rafe was on the other side, lying on his side with his head resting on his palm, watching his two girls with an easy grin. The late afternoon sun streamed through the windows, casting golden streaks across the room, and the sound of soft baby coos filled the air.

“She’s been kicking like crazy today,” Y/n murmured, her fingers gently brushing over the baby’s tummy. 

“I think she’s practising for her first marathon.”

“What do you mean? She’s gonna be a soccer player like her daddy.”

Rafe chuckled, reaching out to gently poke the baby’s round cheek. Y/n rolled her eyes, but her smile betrayed her amusement. 

“A soccer player? Have you even played since high school?”

“My girl’s got natural talent.”

Rafe rolled his eyes at Y/n playfully before he shot back confidently. The baby let out a tiny, high-pitched squeal, earning both their attention, “She’s clearly disagreeing with you,” Y/n teased, brushing her fingers over the baby’s hand.

Rafe looked down at his daughter with a mock frown as he spoke out, “Oh, yeah?” 

She stared up at him with wide, curious eyes, her little lips forming a tiny ‘o’ as she took in his every move. “Patience, babe. She’s warming up,” Rafe replied, undeterred. He gently lifted their baby’s shirt to expose her soft, round tummy, he leaned forward and rubbed his nose gently against the baby’s belly and blew a loud raspberry. The sound echoed through the room, and while the baby squirmed in surprise, her face remained stubbornly neutral. Y/n giggled, giving him a playful nudge. 

“Guess she’s not impressed by your moves, Rafe.”

“Oh, come on,” Rafe said, feigning offence as he straightened up. “She was totally holding it in, weren't you babygirl? She’s just making daddy work for it.”

“Let me try,” Y/n said, wiggling her fingers toward the baby’s ribs. She leaned in close, her voice soft and sweet as she cooed, “Are you going to laugh for mommy, huh? Are you? Let me see that smile!” She tickled her side gently, but the baby only blinked up at her, lips forming a tiny pout.

Rafe laughed out, “Tough crowd.”

“I don’t know where she gets it from,” Y/n said sarcastically, pretending to glare at him, though the smile on her lips gave her away.

“Alright, tag team it is” 

Rafe declared, leaning in again. The two of them spent the next few minutes trying every trick they could think of- more raspberries, silly faces, exaggerated voices. Every time they thought they were close, the baby would let out a little squeal or a happy coo but stopped short of a full-on laugh. Finally, Rafe flopped back against the couch with an exaggerated groan. 

“She’s making us look bad, babe. We can’t even get our own kid to laugh.”

“She’s just making sure we’re entertained, that’s all, isn't it sweet girl?” 

Y/n hummed softly, leaning down closer to their daughter, her face just inches from the baby’s. She cooed, pressing a tender kiss to the baby’s soft cheek. The baby blinked up at her, a tiny smile tugging at her lips but still no laugh. Y/n smiled at the little almost-grin and pulled back a bit too quickly, not realising Rafe had leaned forward at the same time. The back of her head bumped directly into his face with a light but sudden thud.

“Ah—!” Rafe grunted, leaning back as he rubbed the bridge of his nose with his hand. “Babe, what the—?”

“Oh my god!” Y/n whipped around hand coming up to cover her mouth, wide-eyed. “I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”

Rafe waved her off, though his nose scrunched slightly. The baby, who had been watching them intently, suddenly let out the sweetest, tiniest string of giggles. Both of them froze and looked down at her in surprise.

“No way,” Rafe said, his hand dropping from his nose as a grin spread across his face.

“That’s what it takes, seriously?”

Y/n blinked, a smile tugging at her lips as the baby let out another bubbly little laugh. “I can’t believe it,” she whispered, her voice soft with wonder. 

“Her first laugh…”

“And it’s at my expense,” Rafe added, though he didn’t look the least bit annoyed. Instead, he leaned back down, his nose almost brushing the baby’s. 

“You think that’s funny, huh, little lady?”

The baby cooed in response, her tiny laugh bubbling up again, and Y/n joined in, covering her mouth with her hand as she tried to stop her own giggles. He grinned, leaning down to kiss the baby’s forehead. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

The baby cooed in response, letting out another delighted laugh, and Y/n shook her head fondly, a hum passing her lips again. Rafe smirked, pulling Y/n closer with his free arm.

 “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up both of you.”

Y/n rested her head on his shoulder, her eyes fixed on their baby. "You know, if her laugh already makes me this happy, we’re in trouble when she starts talking."

Rafe chuckled, his hand lightly brushing Y/n’s arm as he said, "When she calls me ‘dada’ first, I’ll try not to rub it in too much, alright?"

Y/n smirked, tilting her head up at him. “Oh, she’s definitely saying ‘mama’ first. I’ll make sure of it.”

Their daughter’s bubbly giggle filled the room again, almost as if she understood their playful exchange. Rafe’s gaze drifted playfully to the girl next to him as he leaned in towards Y/n, his lips meeting hers in a sweet, lingering kiss. His hand gently cradled her jaw, thumb brushing tenderly across her cheek. When they pulled back, his lips curved into a teasing smirk, his voice dropping to a low murmur, 

“We’ll see about that, mama…”

They make me want to cry 😭

[xoxochb]

“is she sleeping yet?”

you tear your gaze from the bathrooms doorway to the newborn, lily, resting in your arms. “just about.”

percy walks to the bed, taking a seat beside you, peering down at his daughter. he’s cautious not to wake her, as he was aware of your dire need for a quiet moment, but nonetheless reaches out to run his index over her tiny hand.

alongside the action, his attention turns entirely to you. you similarly look back up from the baby and meet percy’s eyes.

“how’re you feeling?”

you blow a raspberry and fiddle with lily’s blanket absentmindedly. “I feel like I just gave birth three hours ago.”

“still sarcastic, good to know.” percy uses his free hand to cup one side of your face, kissing your forehead tenderly. thrice. twice for fun and once more for good luck. “you did great, y’know.”

“…I look like a mess though.” you huff softly and look down at your disarranged outfit. “and I’m sore everywhere.”

“well you just pushed a five pound baby out of your body. besides, I think you look beautiful.” he pauses for a moment. “just relax. the soreness will pass.”

“easy for you to say— you didn’t push a baby out of your body.”

“but I held your hand. and I didn’t pass out.”

you shrug casually. “I’ll give you that one.”

percy mutters a, “deal” before he looks back at lily, who begins to coo in her sleep.

“if she wakes up, it’s your problem.”

he removes his hand to keep her asleep. “parenting should be fifty-fifty.”

“but I just gave birth to her. all you’re doing is putting her to sleep.”

percy considers for a second before responding. “are you going to use giving birth as an excuse?”

“yes.”

he sighs slowly and takes the infant from your arms, careful to hold her head up with one hand as he stands. “sleep. you need it.”

“will you sit with me?”

percy laughs at this. “shit, I’ll sleep with you.”

“language!” you point to the baby he cradles. “you have a child now.”

“yeah, you do need to sleep.”

“you have a task to complete. get on it.”

[covenofagatha]

Ice cream dream

Agatha indulges you when you have an idea about a new way to eat ice cream

Or...

You lick ice cream off your wife's tits

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: oral fixation, dry humping, slight temperature play, grinding

“Can I lick ice cream off your tits?” 

Your wife, who has just gotten home from a long day of work and is on her way over to you, freezes by the kitchen table and blinks at you. “What?” 

Giggling, you pat the spot on the sofa next to you and Agatha eyes you suspiciously before obeying. The cushions dip under both of you as she sits and pulls her knees up so she’s tilted and facing you. Your gaze flicks down to the swell of her breasts in her white button-down. 

“What was that?” she asks again, amusement twinkling in her eyes at your usual antics. While you’ve never asked if you could lick anything off her boobs before, you’ve asked—and been allowed—to do a few other things. 

The most notable time was when you had to sign approximately thirty contracts for your own work one evening while she watched you as she sipped on a martini. You had been dramatically whining about how your hand was hurting, how you were bored out of your mind, but that if Agatha would show you her boobs, it would make you feel better. She had rolled her eyes, stifled a smirk, and then lifted up her shirt, having foregone a bra after her shower. 

Then you got a wicked idea—you asked if you could sign her tits. 

Agatha had raised an eyebrow and sarcastically pointed out that it might hurt your hand more but you had pouted until she had finally given in. 

Her eyes darkened as she studied your focused face and she let out a small gasp when you had pressed the tip of the sharpie you had run to your bag to get against her. There was a slight brushing sound as you claimed her tits and the smell of the marker filled the air. You sat back on her lap to admire your work and noticed that both of your chests were rapidly rising and falling.

Your name written out across the skin of her cleavage turned you on beyond words and you immediately shoved her down, straddled her, and swirled your tongue around her nipple while you absentmindedly traced over your cursive with a finger. 

The contracts had been forgotten and your handwriting had taken about a week to finally fade all the way from her chest. 

No complaints from either of you. 

And now she’s looking at you the same way as she did when you made that suggestion that night and you know it’ll end the same way. 

“I got a pint of ice cream from the store today,” you say slowly like she really needs you to spell it out for her and she snorts before lightly slapping your leg. You grin. “And I thought it would be fun if I licked it off you.” 

The idea has been weighing on your mind for quite some time now, a culmination of your oral fixation, obsession with your wife’s breasts, and your love of sweets, and you’ve been figuring out how to bring it up. 

Nothing like just coming right out and asking.

“What’s wrong with just using a bowl?” 

You push your bottom lip out mockingly. “It’ll taste better this way. Please? I’ll make sure to clean up my mess.” 

Agatha sighs heavily but you see the corners of her mouth quirking up and you know you got her. “What flavor is it?” she asks, like that might be a dealbreaker. 

“Black raspberry chocolate chip.” 

She hums. “Go get it, then.” You quickly peck her cheek before jogging to the refrigerator and pulling the carton out of the freezer. You grab a spoon and jump back on the couch. 

You shift side to side, the ice cream cold in your hands, as she deftly but slowly unbuttons her shirt. She shrugs it off and throws it onto the ground and reaches behind herself to unclasp her lacy red bra. Your breath catches in your throat when her breasts are freed, soft and perky and supple, and your mouth begins to water. 

“Fuck,” you breathe. Every time you see them, it feels like the first time. You will never get tired of her boobs. Her nipples are slightly pebbled, either from the air-conditioner or from the anticipation—hopefully both—and she leans back against the pillows, watching you expectantly. 

Nodding to yourself and trying to not get too distracted, you pry off the top of the container and scoop just a little out at first. You inch closer, situating yourself so you’re straddling one of her thighs, and spread out the spoonful on her bare skin. 

Agatha gasps and you watch in awe as her head falls back. Her hair fans out beneath her and you breathe heavily before leaning down and dragging your tongue against her smooth skin. She makes a muffled sound and there’s a burst of flavor in your mouth. 

“It tastes really good,” you murmur playfully and she cranes her neck down to look at you. 

“Oh, does it?” she asks, her voice thick with heat already. You bob your head up and down and then surge up to kiss her, swiping your tongue into her mouth so she can taste the ice cream. She moans and cups your cheeks to pull you closer, lips moving rhythmically against yours. 

It becomes hot and heavy fast and you’re both panting and pulling at each other like you’re trying to devour one another and you’ve almost completely forgotten about your original plan when your hand drops and presses the pint against her stomach. She hisses and jolts back at the cold and you huff out a laugh before moving back down her body. 

This time, you drop the ice cream just above her nipple on her right breast before leaning down to lick it off. You travel downward just an inch and suck her nipple and her back arches off the couch, a hoarse curse slipping from her mouth. 

A flash of pleasure runs through you and you do it again, just under her clavicle. You nip at her skin and then sink your teeth in and she jerks under you. 

“Fuck, honey,” Agatha whines, her hands pushing up the hem of your shirt to rest on your back. 

Sitting back, you take in the pinkening of her cheeks and the crazed look in her eyes—it makes you dizzy with heat. As if in a trance, you reach out and press the chilled metal of the back of the spoon against her nipple and she throws her head back with a loud moan. Your mouth quickly follows to warm her up and her nipple fully hardens under your stimulation. 

You switch to her other breast and you do the same thing, spreading ice cream all over and licking it up lasciviously. She squirms beneath you, lifting the leg you’re straddling to get into a more comfortable position, and you gasp at the pressure it puts on your clit. 

“Fuck, that feels really good,” you mumble, your cunt clenching and aching, but you don’t stop. You lather more ice cream over her and she groans as you scrape your teeth against her skin in an attempt to clean her all off. You press your knee harder against her core in case she needs more and she lets out a sharp gasp. 

The pauses you have to take between having your mouth on her and having to spoon out more ice cream is becoming frustrating with how turned on you both have become so you dump about a quarter of the container over her tits and reach over to set it on the coffee table. 

You trace the spoon along the edges of the mess, enjoying the goosebumps that arise on her chest and her small noises as she writhes on the couch. It begins to melt from her body heat and you salaciously run your tongue over her cleavage, making sure to clean every last drop. Ice cream runs down her sternum onto her stomach and she whimpers when you lick it off from there. 

Her hands move down from your back to your hips and you realize that you’ve been gently rocking on her thigh this entire time. Agatha flexes her thigh muscle under you, giving you more solidity and her fingers dig in and help you grind. She’s wearing pants and you have shorts on, but you can still feel the delicious sense of relief in your clit through the layers of fabric. 

Agatha’s chest is sticky and you can feel dried ice cream on your face but you couldn’t care less—you keep running your tongue over her skin because you can still taste it and her breathy moans are your favorite sound in the world. She holds you down against her thigh harder and you begin to move faster, chasing the high that’s ever-so-slightly eluding you. 

“There you go, honey,” she whispers encouragingly and you whimper, biting onto her shoulder. She hisses and you suck on her skin to soothe it and when you pull back, you can already see the beginning of a bruise. It makes a thrill run through you and you grind down roughly, dragging your clit against her leg. The sound of both of your heavy breathing fills the air and you keep nipping at her shoulders, making a trail back down to her chest and then to her boobs. 

You take her nipple back into your mouth and swirl it around before gently tugging at it with your teeth. Agatha keens and arches again, forcing her leg up harshly against your cunt and you let out a staggered exhale. You shove your knee more against her and she rolls her hips up to get some stimulation on her own clit. 

“Fuck, baby,” she rasps and digs her nails into your lower back. It stings but your clit pulses and you frantically keep moving while you mouth at her breasts. You’re both moving together and desperately grinding against each other and your head is completely foggy. 

“Agatha, god,” you moan and she hums and nods in agreement. You switch nipples and pant hotly against her skin before open-mouth kissing it and then flicking your tongue against it. 

Her rhythm stutters and she breathes stiffly, chest heaving. “Fuck, I want you to cum on my thigh,” she gasps and you cry out pathetically, clit throbbing against her leg. 

Your head drops down, face ducking into her neck, and you drag your teeth along her jugular before nipping at her throat, right where she’s sensitive. Agatha makes a loud noise and you do it again, reveling in the fact that she’ll have to use concealer to cover up the marks you’re undoubtedly going to leave. 

Next time, you think you’ll ask her if you can spell your name with bite marks across her tits. 

“God, it feels so good,” you sob brokenly and Agatha breathes out her agreement, turning her face towards you so she can watch your expression. Your orgasm is building, tension spreading from your stomach to your lower back to your limbs and you can feel the tell-tale tingling. You dig your nails into her shoulders, into the marks you’ve already left, and she winces but doesn’t tell you to stop. 

The remnants of the black raspberry chocolate chip are faint but you can still taste them when you move back down to nip at her chest and she scrambles to pull you even closer if possible. You can feel the heat radiating from her cunt through her pants against your knee and you push harder, eliciting a moan from her again. Your grinding has lost all pacing and now you’re just bucking your hips sporadically against her thigh and fuck, you’re so close. 

“Baby—god, you’re so hot,” Agatha groans and pulls you up to her by your hair before clashing her lips against yours. You put a hand on her chest to stabilize yourself, thumbing at her nipple and she tugs at your bottom lip before sucking on your tongue and that’s it—you cum all over her leg with cracked moans and she quickly follows in suit, back lifting off the couch and riding out her orgasm against your knee. 

The aftershocks make both of you twitch while you continue grinding softly and then you collapse on her, your face getting even more sticky from your saliva and the ice cream. You lay like that for a bit, feeling her heart beating steadily against your cheek, until the position you’re in starts to make your legs ache. 

You sit up and half-heartedly wipe your face while Agatha smirks at the mess she’s made you into. 

“Pretty good idea, right?” you ask smugly and your wife rolls her eyes fondly before acquiescing. 

“Why don’t we take this to the bedroom?” Agatha suggests and your clit throbs again. You nod and quickly get off her, wincing at the stiffness of your joints. She points to the ice cream that’s now slightly melted in the container. “I’d put that back in the freezer first.” 

You bend down to put the lid back on as she begins walking in the direction of the stairs. “Good idea,” you call after her. “I’ll bring the wine.” 

She pauses and looks back at you over her shoulder, assessing you carefully. It’s hard to fight the smirk that’s creeping onto your face and she shakes her head exasperatedly. “You are not pouring wine on my tits.” 

Shrugging gleefully, you wink and she fixes you with a glare. You hold up your hands to show her that you’re listening and she finally turns around and heads up the stairs to the bedroom. 

You grab the wine anyway. 

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[keeryhours]

real love, baby - chapter three

Billy Hargrove x female! reader

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Billy Hargrove Masterlist

Summary:

You have your appointment to see the baby for the first time

Warnings:

Pregnancy, shitty parents, bullying

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N:

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoy this chapter! and thank you @punkrockmlchael and @the-witty-pen-name for all your help with this one 😩🙏🏻

8 weeks pregnant

Baby is the size of a raspberry

“Can you see a difference?”

You stood in front of your mirror, shirt held up under your chest to reveal your stomach. Eddie lounged back on your bed, watching you.

“I still don’t see anything,” Eddie said. “You sure there’s something in there?”

“We’ll know for sure tomorrow,” you reminded him. Your heart sped up in your chest at the thought of your first ultrasound, the thought of seeing your baby for the first time. Eddie would be taking you so you didn’t have to go alone.

“Are you excited?”

“Super excited,” you smiled. You rubbed your hand over your stomach, still nothing there. “I’m a little excited to have a bump, but also dreading it.”

“There’s no hiding from it then,” he said, hanging upside down off the side of your bed. His curls brushed against the carpet. “You ready for that?”

“No,” you admitted. “I mean, everyone at school already knows. But I’m not prepared to tell my parents.”

“I don’t blame you. That’s not going to go well.”

“Thanks,” you said sarcastically. You pulled your shirt back down, flopping down on the bed next to Eddie. “But I know. They’re going to kill me.”

“That’s probably putting it lightly,” Eddie said, sitting up to look at you. “They’re going to freak.”

“That’s why I’m waiting as long as possible to tell them.” You leaned against the headboard, feet stuck in Eddie’s lap. “Good plan or bad plan?”

“Totally foolproof, nothing can go wrong,” Eddie said. He gave you a teasing smile- you and he both knew telling your parents at any point would be a disaster, but you also knew Eddie would be there for you no matter what. “Have you talked to Billy anymore?”

“Not since 2 weeks ago when he cornered me about the abortion,” you sighed. It felt like all you did anymore was think about Billy. “He’s back to pretending I don’t exist.

“That’s so fucked,” Eddie said. He rubbed your bare legs that lay splayed across his lap. “I’m sorry. I mean, I can’t say I’m surprised, but still. He’s an ass.”

“No, I know,” you said, sinking down the bed until you were laying on your pillows. You pulled one over and hugged it across your chest. “I walked right into this one.”

“A little bit.”

You kicked Eddie, making him laugh. “You’re always so supportive and helpful and not at all judgmental, Ed.”

“Hey, I try to be,” Eddie said, laughing. At least you could laugh about it.

The next day after school, you rushed out of the building quickly. Your appointment was 30 minutes after school ended and you did not want to be late. You found Eddie waiting by the van already, keys in hand and ready to go.

“You ready, mama?” He asked as you both climbed into the van, and you gave him a look.

“Yes, I’m ready,” you said, taking a deep breath. The truth was, you were horribly nervous. You felt like you could be sick, and it was hard to breathe deeply.

“You’re going to be okay, you know that?” Eddie said, reaching over to grasp your hand with his right one. He drove the van one handed, the short drive to the doctor’s office feeling like a million years.

“I know,” you said, giving Eddie a weak smile although you didn’t quite believe yourself.

He pulled into the parking lot of the office, killing the engine of the van and turning to you. “Do you want me to go back with you?”

“Would you?” You looked at him hopefully, not wanting to go alone. You wouldn’t blame him if he felt weird about it and didn’t want to go, but you hated the idea of doing any of this pregnancy alone.

“Of course I will,” he said, squeezing your hand. “C’mon, let’s go. I got you.”

The waiting room of this doctor’s office was more cheerful than the last one. The walls were painted a bright yellow color, and there were photos of babies decorating the walls. A TV hung on one side of the room, playing a rerun of Three’s Company.

When the nurse called your name, Eddie followed you to the back. She smiled politely at you, holding the clipboard against her blue scrubs and leading you back to the exam room.

“You can change into this gown and take a seat on the exam table,” she said. “Dad, you can take one of the chairs over there.”

“Oh, I’m not-“ Eddie started to correct her, but the nurse wasn’t listening, already moving on to grabbing the blood pressure cuff.

Eddie didn’t entirely mind playing dad for the day. It was no different than the times you’d lied to his extended family that you were dating, right? He knew he wasn’t the father, but it was interesting to see what it would feel like.

The nurse went through the usual things - blood pressure, temperature, weight. She left the room when she was done, leaving you and Eddie alone in the room.

“Eddie, cut that out!” You hissed as Eddie looked through the cabinets and drawers.

“What? They wouldn’t just leave it here if they didn’t want us to take it,” Eddie said, pocketing a handful of band aids.

A few minutes later the tech walked in, greeting you both before sitting in front of the ultrasound machine. Eddie moved his chair closer to you as she put the gel on your stomach and began the examination, the screen turned away from you.

“Is…everything okay?” Eddie asked nervously, speaking the words you were too afraid to say yourself.

“Everything looks good,” she said with a kind smile. She turned the screen, and there was…a little bean shaped thing. “This is your baby. You’re measuring exactly 8 weeks.”

Your eyes went wide, taking in the sight of the little wiggling baby. It didn’t look anything like a baby yet, but you still felt unimaginably connected to it. It was a bizarre feeling. That was your baby.

“At least it’s not twins,” Eddie joked, but you were barely listening.

In that moment you felt an acute awareness of Billy’s absence. Despite the fact that Billy hadn’t had anything to do with this pregnancy and had even insisted on an abortion, you hadn’t thought much about what he was missing out on. But this? You couldn’t help but picture the blonde beside you in Eddie’s place, getting that first glimpse of his child. How he’d place his hand on your belly to feel, or maybe even talk to the baby through your belly, play them his favorite music. Every time this happened, you pictured Billy as a good father.

But he wasn’t here.

The tech clicked something on the machine, and a rhythmic whooshing sound filled the room. “That’s the heartbeat,” she said. “A strong one!”

That filled you with pride- your baby was strong. It felt good to hear. You had been worried that things weren’t going well, one of the reasons you’d been dreading this appointment so badly. You didn’t know what you would do if something happened to the baby at this point.

“Is it a boy or a girl?” Eddie asked.

The tech didn’t make him feel stupid for the question. “It’s still too early to tell. What do you think?”

“I think it’s a girl,” Eddie said confidently. “I just have a feeling.”

“I think it could be a boy,” you said, but you really didn’t know or mind either way. You could picture yourself with a son or a daughter. Billy would-

And there you go daydreaming again.

“Would you like some prints?” The tech asked as she wrapped up the exam, wiping the gel off your stomach. You nodded quickly - these were the first ever photos of your baby. You would have to hide them, but you wanted them. She gave you multiple copies, in case you wanted to share.

You walked out of the office feeling better than you had coming in, ultrasound photos gripped in your hand. There was no hiding from it now - there was a baby, alive and growing in your belly. Eddie kept one of the photos, claiming he was entitled to one as the godfather, a title he had awarded himself.

You were grateful for him, he had been an amazing friend to you before and during this. You had worried that he’d want nothing to do with it, that he’d be mad at you for getting yourself into this position to begin with. But he hadn’t given you any kind of judgement, only support.

If only you and Eddie loved each other as more than friends, if the rumors around school about you had been true, things might be simpler.

Theoretically, Eddie was the perfect guy for you. Best friends who never got tired of each other, same interests, attracted to each other. But you couldn’t help who you were and weren’t in love with, and you just didn’t feel that type of way about Eddie.

Yet here he was, willing to be judged alongside you without saying a single word about the truth. He was just willing to let the whole school call him names and think that he is the father of this baby, willing to walk beside you in front of the judgemental people of Hawkins. Ready to face your parents, who already hated him, when the time came just so you didn’t have to tell them the father wouldn’t be in the picture.

You didn’t understand it. But that was just Eddie.

The next day at school, you passed Billy a note in 2nd period.

“Can we talk?”

You watched as he opened the note, eyes darting up to you as he gave you an unreadable expression before folding the note back up. You weren’t sure what kind of answer that was.

After class he nodded at you to follow him into the empty science classroom, and you obeyed. Things always were on Billy’s terms.

“What?” He hissed once safely inside the locked classroom. He leaned against one of the tables. “Did you change your mind?”

“No, Billy, I didn’t change my mind.”

“Then why are you talking to me?” He asked simply.

His words stung deeply, but you didn’t dwell on them for long. “I had my first appointment yesterday. I thought you might want to know.”

You didn’t know how he was going to respond to that. Billy was always so unpredictable. He looked at you, his eyes roaming your figure. “Is it…was…everything okay?”

That was better than him blowing up. “They said everything was looking great. I’m 8 weeks and they have a strong heartbeat.”

Billy huffs something like a small laugh. Like yeah, it’s my baby, of course they’re strong. “Well that’s….good.”

You smiled softly. “Do you…want to see a picture?”

“They gave you pictures?” He asked with his brows raised. “I’ve never even seen a baby that small.”

You laughed - “It looks more like a little bean right now, but-“ you dug through your bag until you pulled out one of the prints, handing it over to Billy.

Billy took the photo from your fingers gingerly, like he was afraid he’d break something. He held it up to his face with a slight tremble in his hands, seeing the digital text on the photo - Hi mom and dad! - with an arrow pointing to the small blob.

“That’s really it?” He asked, his voice almost incredulous. “That’s the baby?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed. “Pretty crazy, right?”

Billy just stared at the photo. Eventually he looked up at you, his expression once again unreadable. “Can I keep this?”

“What?” The question caught you off guard.

“The picture? Can I keep it?” Billy repeated.

You did have multiple copies of the sonogram, but you were surprised he wanted one at all. “Yeah, sure,” you finally answered him, feeling like an ass for looking like you had to think about it for so long.

“How are you feeling with…everything?”

That question surprised you, too. “I’m okay. Still feeling sick and all the other usual symptoms. But nothing too bad.”

Billy nodded. It was quiet again. Then, “What do you think it’s gonna be?”

“I think it’s a boy,” you said, smiling softly. “But Eddie’s convinced it’s a girl.”

“Either way would be- wait, Eddie?”

You looked at him. “Yeah. Eddie thinks it’s a girl.”

“Did he…go to the appointment with you?” There was something swirling behind his blue eyes, something you couldn’t quite decipher.

“Yeah,” you said. “I didn’t want to go alone.”

“Oh.”

There was another minute of silence between you, and if you didn’t know better, you’d think Billy was hurt. “You didn’t seem like you wanted to go,” you said finally.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t,” Billy said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his pack of cigarettes, taking one between his lips. “I’ve got to get back to class.” You watched as he turned in the complete opposite direction and walked out the back door, lighting the cigarette as he left.

Billy’s mind swirled with thoughts as he walked away - that was his baby. His baby. That everyone thought belonged to Eddie. It honestly pissed him off, but it was his own fault and he knew it. He could step out right now and say he was the father, but he wouldn’t do that. He was too much of a coward.

He thought of what his father would say. He couldn’t hide this forever, he knew. It would all come out eventually. Billy dragged on his cigarette as he thought of how Neil would react. And wouldn’t he deserve it? It was his fault you were pregnant and his fault you were doing it alone. Would his dad kick him out? What would happen to you? Would he be able to get a job and help take care of you and the baby?

He was getting ahead of himself again, thinking about the what if’s of letting himself get involved. He couldn’t do that. You and that kid were better off without him. It was bad enough he passed on his genes, but there was no escaping that one now.

But did he really want to be a deadbeat dad? The type of guy who he had no respect for, and now that’s exactly who he was shaping up to be. Is this what he wanted for himself? For his kid?

When he finished the cigarette, he tossed it to the side, then folded the photo carefully and stuck it in his wallet.

Back in class, Billy ignored you again. You almost thought you dreamed the whole encounter, but the missing sonogram in your bag proved it happened. Billy had really acted like he cared. That was totally unlike him.

When Carol and Tina started whispering and giggling at you, that seemed a bit more normal. You just didn’t know what was so interesting this time.

After class they waited for you, popping their bubblegum as they leaned against their desks. “Overheard your Freak boyfriend telling his friends you saw the baby yesterday. How cute,” Carol quipped.

You ignored them, trying to walk by just as Tommy and Billy came up behind them. “What’s going on?” Billy asked.

Carol and Tina looked up at them, malicious grins on their stupid faces. “I just heard the Freaks got to see their baby yesterday. I just wanted to congratulate her.”

Tommy snickered. “How sweet.”

Billy avoided your gaze. “Carol, just leave her alone. It’s not worth it, is it?”

Carol, Tina, and Tommy all gave him a confused look. Because when has he ever cared about making fun of you?

“I just mean,” Billy said, scrambling to recover, “she’s already pregnant in high school. That’s sad enough.”

His friends laughed, and by that point they were moving on to a different conversation. The girls turned and left, Tommy and Billy following behind. You wondered what Tina would think if she knew the truth about her crush.

Eddie dropped you off at home after school, and you were disappointed to see your parents home. You made sure the sonograms were buried deeply in your bag before you got out of the van.

“Are you gonna be alright?” Eddie asked, sensing your anxiety. “D’you want me to come in with you?”

“I think that might make things worse,” you attempted to joke, even though your words were true. Your parents hated Eddie.

“Call me if you need a getaway driver,” he called as you hopped out of the van, and you smiled at him. You caught sight of his copy of the ultrasound photo stuck in his sun visor.

You took a deep breath as you walked up the front steps of the house. As long as you didn’t set them off, this didn’t have to go poorly. You could get upstairs to your room and be left alone all evening.

Your hopes were dashed when you walked inside and your dad immediately called your name. You changed course and walked into the kitchen, finding both your parents standing their looking at you, your mother nursing a glass of wine while your dad held a scotch.

“Honey, your doctor called,” your mom began.

Your blood ran cold. You thought you would be sick on the spot. This could not be happening right now, you were not ready to tell them. But they seemed…oddly calm.

“Oh yeah?” You said, gauging the situation.

“They just said your prescription for Zofran was sent to the pharmacy. Have you been feeling sick?”

You let out a breath. “Oh, yeah, a little. They said it was probably just a stomach bug.”

Your father sipped his scotch. “You’re not going to use this as an excuse to skip school, right?”

“No, sir,” you said. You knew if you didn’t speak to him that way, it would be a whole other world of trouble.

“Good,” he said, “because you want to get into a good school, don’t you? We’ve discussed this.”

“Yes, sir,” you said. Your parents had always made their expectations clear. If you didn’t get into a school they deemed appropriate, they wouldn’t be supporting you any more.

“And I saw that van driving off,” your father added. “I thought we talked about not spending any more time with people like that.”

“People like what?” You asked, knowing better but your anger snapping uncontrollably. “Eddie’s my best friend.”

“The boy sells drugs,” your mother added. “He lives in a….”

“A trailer park?” You finished for her. “Is that what you were about to say?”

“He’s dragging you down,” your father’s voice boomed. “You are too good to be hanging out with his type. Why don’t you go out with the Harrington boy? Now that’s a nice kid, respectable parents-“

“Steve doesn’t even know I exist,” you scoff. “And his friends are dicks.”

“I’m just saying,” your father continued, “you need to keep better company before you’re knocked up and stuck with your choices.”

If only he’d known how cruel his words really were, how deeply they had struck. He would probably be pleased with himself. You turned and ran up the stairs, the tears in your eyes falling whether you wanted them to or not. In the safety of your room you jumped onto your bed, sobbing into your pillows.

What the fuck were you supposed to do?

tag list

@rincallistis @holb32 @missingbillyhargrove @fandom-princess-forevermore @kenmasabg @pinklyred @seedlingghost @swiftieintheupsidedown @strangerthing93 @losingmygrasponreality @jaybbygrl

[ikeukiss]

WITCHING HOUR | 최연준

⟢ PAIRING: choi yeonjun x fem!reader ⟢ WORD COUNT: 3.8K ⟢ GENRE: smut, hints of comedy and fluff ⟢ TAGS: witch!reader, wizard!yeonjun, sexual tension, oral (f receiving), bondage elements, backshots, protected sex ⟢ SYNOPSIS: Like magical elements, you do your usual push and pull with Yeonjun until one night when it's almost too much to avoid him any longer, and it makes you wonder why you stayed away from him in the first place. -ˋˏ✄┈┈ AUTHOR'S NOTE: Originally written for a group I no longer follow or write for, so I thought why not remake it with lovely Junie boy? Not a lot has changed from the original except the introduction, since I am happy with it for the most part!

For a powerful witch, you feel weaker than you’ve ever felt whenever a certain boy stands too close to you. The girls in your family are from an established bloodline, built on the bones of what younger witches and warlocks could only wish to be, and yet Choi Yeonjun seems to tap a nerve that tears every part of the symbols of your family’s foundation to pieces. Strength, control, independence. All gone with the simplest trail of his eyes along your skin.

Like now. Putting books back on their shelves should be a simple task; it’s what you’re supposed to do in Soobin’s store. Both mortals and magical folk often stroll through and leave behind copies they contemplated buying for a millisecond, just for you or another coworker to put away by the end of the day. It’s normal work for anyone. Yet, all of your power seems to drain out of you because of Yeonjun and how close he is when you least expect him to be.

The warlock stands idly by, still ogling your figure as you put a book on Transfixions back in its cataloged spot, the words on the cover to any human reading as a nonfiction piece they’ll never open. You release a huff of laughter, incredulous that his gaze still prickles your skin like this. “You could take a picture, you know,” you say into the silence. “According to mortals, they last longer.”

Yeonjun chuckles and takes a few books off of your cart to help you put them away. His arm brushes yours just slightly as you go through the motions of sorting and stacking, but it’s torture with every pass of his gooseflesh against you. “I think I can remember without technology.” His lips barely brush your ear when he speaks again. “You’re too mesmerizing to forget.”

You want to smack the guy in the arm for invading your personal space, but this is how it’s always been. The verbal and bodily tension between you is both sharp and ever-present, a blade a part of you wants to be cut by. For better or worse, all of your emotions heighten whenever he’s around.

Yeonjun saunters away as you release a ragged breath, one you did not recognize you were holding until the air escapes your lungs.

Soobin peaks out of the corner with his enormous glasses, bangs covering the rest of his face like a black cloak. He almost resembles a curious cat more than the owner of a bookstore. “Can you guys just make out so I can run my store properly again?” he asks, partially humorous but with a tone that makes you laugh as you stack the shelves again.

Like Yeonjun, you and Soobin have known each other for years through magical training, schooling and family dinners. He’s a good friend, but he’s known Yeonjun longer, so you’re unsure what underlying words sit beneath Soobin’s explicit ones. “We’re not gonna do that, it’s just—”

“Just what? A ton of pining and sexual undertones that never go anywhere?” He pops an eyebrow up, his mouth puckered. “You’re both like the characters in those romance novels all the girls eat up in this place.”

You blow a raspberry at him, but your mind flits back to the only time you ever got close to Yeonjun physically. It’s written all over your face when Soobin coughs dramatically in your direction. You go back to the present, staring at his sarcastic expression, and your cheeks heat up. “What?”

“Something happened, didn’t it?”

You stutter as the guy’s face breaks into a beaming, knowing smile. “Like almost two years ago! It wasn’t even that big of a deal!” The it in question was a drunken kiss shared in a broom closet at one of Sim Jaeyun’s house parties. You tried to forget it, and Yeonjun practically confirmed it was a one-time thing with the way he addressed you afterward.

And nothing did happen after that night and those subsequent days, the usual friendly greetings and underlying physical gestures marking the passed time like normal, but those instances sparked the same effects you feel to this day in his presence.

“Mhm, I’m very convinced,” Soobin says, still sporting his grin, but he attaches an eye-roll to the expression before walking away.

You think about that night as your fingertips brush the final books to put on the shelves and Yeonjun’s words from a mere ten minutes ago. Maybe Yeonjun gets such responses out of you because he challenges your abilities and talents alongside your emotions in such a way that screams it could be fate. Written in the stars, as the mortals say. 

Maybe it is, the two of you pushing and pulling until you both eventually click into place. You refuse to believe it, though; Yeonjun may be too arrogant to deserve such validation.

That’s how you find yourself in a bar called the Hollow later that night. It’s the city’s known haven for fellow witches and warlocks to escape the stresses of the day with a handmade cocktail and pleasant conversation. Mark and Winter toss back rum and cokes and gossip about the latest scandal in the elixir shop they both work at on the edge of town. You listen and laugh when you’re supposed to, but something’s off. Normally, you would enjoy the moment, relax, and let the worries of the day fade into nothing. You aren’t incapable of having fun; witches don’t need to be told to enjoy themselves.

But Yeonjun is here, you just know it. The air is ripe with that string connecting you both together, waiting for the moment one or both of you sever it.

“Babe, you’re a million miles away,” Winter remarks with a hand in your face. Her fingertips almost knock into the glass holding your espresso martini, and you step back to avoid spilling the concoction over your dress.

“Sorry, I just—”

You try to look nonchalant as you search the club. The place is shrouded in candles of all colors, the flames sparkling against the dark bodies around the room. But you recognize Yeonjun as soon as your eyes focus on him. Black hair as striking as the spark of flint, bottom lip caught in his teeth, whiskey in the palm of his hand. You notice it all before you meet his eyes, the ones that have already been watching you from across the room. And now he knows you’re watching him, too.

“Oh,” Winter exclaims, suddenly grinning, the same wolfish smirk that Soobin possessed hours ago. You want to roll your eyes at her, but you’re caught between looking unbothered and trying to sneak peeks at Yeonjun again without him noticing.

Too late for either at this point. He won’t keep his eyes off of you now.

“What?” Mark asks before Winter takes his jaw in her hands to move in the direction of Yeonjun and his friends. Yeonjun tries to talk to Taehyun and Heeseung like he’s relaxed himself, now recognizing your friends have spotted him too, and it almost makes you want to tuck yourself away into the night.

“Ah,” Mark says with the same lilt to his voice as Winter. Your anxiety and irritation is on fire by now. It is so obvious to everybody but the two of you that something needs to happen?

“If you both are done oh-ing and ah-ing, I’m gonna go get us more drinks.” Your two friends snicker like conspiratory traitors as you walk towards the bar.

Attempting to order another round without looking behind you, smiling sweetly at the bartender as you ask for tequila shots, proves to be difficult. You steel yourself not to turn back toward him once again, but it’s hard not to. Yeonjun’s eyes remain glued to your back like melted wax. He trails his eyes down your purple slip dress, to the revealing curve of your thighs, and so on. It’s a ripple down your spine, like Yeonjun’s memorizing you for later.

Look at me again.

You hated this power you two shared the most. As legend has it, no matter how the bond is created, ties between two witches’ or warlocks’ thoughts can be made if both individuals want to speak to one another without actual verbal communication. It’s an advanced power, one few can use or conjure up anymore. Only you and Yeonjun learned such power years ago from your private teachers and family members. Worse, you don’t exactly reject him or the bond because, deep down, a part of you wants him to be inside of your head, to connect with you this way. 

So, here he is, using his words to push you further into him.

Just once.

It’s like the entire bar can sense the shift in your will, knowing you’re hooked as soon as you turn your body to face the booth across the room. Yeonjun pretends to listen to Heeseung’s diatribe, eyeing you from over the rim of his glass and paying little attention to what either Heeseung or Taehyun are saying.

Happy now?

You quirk your eyebrows in his direction, but all he responds with is a smirk.

Not even close.

Your feet pull themselves off the ground and walk towards him, not caring what your mind does or doesn’t want to say on the matter. You think you hear Winter yell “Go get him, tiger,” but you’re too far away to acknowledge it. Instead, you give the man that equally frustrates and excites you a cat-like grin.

You’re fucking impossible.

Taehyun and Heeseung’s faces twist into confusion at the laugh that leaves Yeonjun’s mouth, but once their mutual friend gets up to meet you halfway to the dance floor, they figure it out quickly.

When you finally stand in front of Yeonjun, you’re both breathless from spoken and unspoken words and the implications from every past look and “accidental” touch you’ve shared with each other. You don’t want to think of the soft curve of his bottom lip against your own. Imagine his hands on the places he’s only mapped out in his fantasies. Envision the words he’s kept saved for you when no-one else is around in curses and whispers and grunts. You don’t want to, but you do anyway.

Leave with me.

Yeonjun's eyes widen with mirth, a smug smile spreading across his face.

As the witch commands.

The sound of your back hitting the wall of Yeonjun’s hallway reminds you this is truly happening, not a teenage fantasy to scold yourself for later. His hands are everywhere. One’s underneath the back of your thigh and the other on the side of your neck, guiding you and pulling you into him. Your kisses are sloppy, without a doubt. The touches of your tongues and moans resounding from your open mouths echo blissfully in the small space you’re in.

When you separate, Yeonjun’s eyes gleam. He tugs the hem of your dress until he pulls the piece over your head and throws it somewhere on the floor. He stops to admire you in just your bra and panties. Surprisingly, you don’t feel shy under his gaze. You’ve never been a bashful person, but you know intimacy leaves you vulnerable in a way you don’t experience often. But you want him to look at you this way, like the start of pleasure begins and ends with the lines of your body. You want to ask yourself why you didn’t let him or yourself have this before, to feel this yearning finally bleed into indulgence.

“Two years and three days.”

“What?” You ask before moaning when he takes one hand and dips it into your panties. Two of his fingers lewdly glide across your folds until he swirls them around your clit.

“It’s been two years and three days since the first time I kissed you,” he says, eyes coated in desire. “And now, I don’t think I ever want to stop.”

“Then don’t. Don’t stop,” you gasp, bucking your hips into the movements of his hand. You use your own to unclip your bra and throw it in the same direction Yeonjun threw your dress, and he wastes no time taking one of your nipples into his mouth. He sucks hard and without mercy, his fingers matching the pace and feel of his mouth, and you could fall apart from that alone. But you know you want him to fill you so deep and help you forget how long the want for him stayed dormant. Now, it’s bursting to life; you can’t hold out any longer.

He senses it, Yeonjun releasing your nipple with a pop and wrapping your legs around his waist to guide you into his bedroom. Barely any light comes in through his blinds, the darkness of midnight heightening your lust. You know, for all the myths, the witching hour is a reality in your world. Your powers, your senses, everything elevates at this split in time, both the start and end of two days, the meeting of two intersecting lines.

If Yeonjun didn’t toss you softly onto the bed, you would laugh, finding the dichotomy between his dirty acts and sudden gentle touches ironic.

The jingle of Yeonjun’s belt buckle and ruffle of his shirt snaps you from the thought, and you whisper, “I want to see you.”

You already know he’s smirking. By the time he waves a hand to light the candles on his dresser and nightstand, he’s only in his black boxer briefs and his cock is visibly hard. You bite your lip as you stare. You crave the feel of it in your hand and mouth when Yeonjun takes off the briefs entirely. It’s unavoidable how much or long you admire its size. When you reach to remove your panties, Yeonjun stops you from doing so with the turn of his head. Your hands are frozen in place, and you huff exasperatedly.

You don’t play fair.

Yeonjun laughs, amusement gleaming in his eyes. “Never said I did, but I think you like it.” You do, so much it makes you hate how right he is.

After he wraps your hands together in one of his own and raises them over your head, he tugs the fabric down your legs with his free one. You kick it away, glad to have the air hit your skin. Knowing your hands will stay in place until he breaks you from his spell, he trails his kisses down. He starts with your mouth, deeply and languidly, and ends the kiss with the pull of your bottom lip between his teeth. Then he presses his lips to your neck, the column of your throat, your breasts (which he playfully bites too), and right before your navel.

Before long, he licks a long stripe up your slit, the wetness pooling on his tongue and making you moan in earnest. You want to wrap your hands in his hair, give it a hard tug to urge him to go faster, to make you come, but the invisible binds on your wrists will not budge, no matter how much you will your own magic to release you. “Let me touch you,” you whine, lifting your hips to meet his lips.

“Let me touch you first. I want to savor this,” Yeonjun replies, kissing and sucking your clit into his mouth. He trails two fingers along the inside of your thigh before he sinks them inside you.

A broken moan escapes your lips, the sound jagged and cracked. You know you cannot hold yourself back anymore. You press as much of your lower body against him, his movements feeling so good on you, inside of you. When he adds a third finger, you come with the well of tears in your eyes and his name leaving your mouth over and over.

He wipes the remnants of your arousal off his lips with the back of his hand, but when he goes to kiss you with his tongue licking inside of your mouth, you taste yourself. You moan as his skin connects to yours in various places; your mouth connected to his, his hands on your hips, your sensitive core rubbed up against his cock. He smiles down at you, caressing your sides with his palms, and you feel the forces against your hands ebb away. Instantly, you wrap your hands into the hair at the nape of his neck and kiss him deeply again. When you part, he says, “Turn around, baby. Hands and knees.”

You nod with a smirk, pressing your hands into the sheets of Yeonjun’s bed and raising your ass in the air for him to pinch and stroke with his fingers. He releases a curse at the sight before him, but not before you hear the tear of a condom wrapper. You grin, ready to feel him.

Mortals commonly recognized witches for their self-indulgence and hedonism, believing you all used your magic on your every whim rather than for the help of others. While it was more of the latter than the former on the regular day, this is how you seek pleasure all the other times. You search for it in the connection of two bodies, the elements bending to your wills and heightening the experience in a way regular humans would never understand. And you can’t wait to feel the curl of yours and his magic wrapping around each other, intertwining until you forget how deep his is claiming you and yours is unraveling him.

By the time he presses the tip inside of you, you both moan loudly into the candle-lit room. The clench of your pussy around Yeonjun makes him groan as he presses deeper, your walls tightening around his cock so perfectly. You press your head into the sheets, releasing a long cry as he buries himself inside of you to the hilt. It’s a decadent feeling, and you don’t know if this is the same magic everyone else feels with their lovers, mortal or not. But you savor it as your nerves buzz to life. Yeonjun wraps a hand in your hair softly and raises your head from the bed, leaning his chest into your back to murmur into your ear, “I wanna hear you. All of you.”

You moan loudly when he thrusts, cry when he pulls out to the point you barely feel him there, and repeat the process when he angles himself deeper inside of you. “Yes, Yeonjun. Please,” you shout, loving the way his body and the essence of him enfolds you with every propel of his body and touch of his skin to yours.

His hips go in and out languidly, and you know you’re already building towards a second peak. You can practically feel your arousal dripping onto the sheets when his cock leaves your pussy, only for him to pull you back against his body to feel the warmth of you again.

“You’re so tight. Fuck, I could stay like this, buried inside of you. All. Fucking. Night,” Yeonjun growls. As a string of groans leave his mouth, he pivots his hips in and out of you. The blunt strength makes you whimper his name in ecstasy. After another few seconds, he slows down and reverts to the pace he started with. You gasp at the change in his tempo, knowing you’re so close to coming.

He says your name in earnest, his voice laced with pleasure. “I want you to ride me.” He rubs your back and kisses the curve of your spine. “Would you like to?”

“Fuck, yes,” you reply. With that, he pulls out of you and turns you over. You expect him to get into position on his back, but he pulls you into his lap, making you squeal.

He laughs and kisses your nose, then your lips with tenderness. “Like this, baby.”

When you wrap your hands around the base of his cock, he grunts. He fills you up again, and you immediately grip his shoulders for support as you move your hips back and forth, then push your body up and down to take every piece of him that you can manage. The sound of your bodies slapping against each other is filthy, but so rewarding when he curses and grunts into your chest, doing his best to meet the clench of your pussy with his own thrusts. You whimper at the feeling, entirely different from him guiding you. You push against him, the knot in your core tightening at a rapid speed when Yeonjun presses his hand to your clit.

For as weak as you felt when you denied yourself of him and this, you feel powerful with Yeonjun’s body so close to yours, sensations blown to indescribable portions. What’s left of you follows the rhythm of the two of you chasing the end together. With his mouth attached to your breasts and turning your skin red and purple from his attention, strength and power could not be better than this: connection, desire, affection.

Come, baby. Come.

The three words flow into your mind and wrap around your skin until you do. You bounce on Yeonjun’s cock and ride out your high, feeling the blind spots of your vision pervade with color. With a broken cry, Yeonjun comes right after, spilling into the condom and rocking up into you until he stops moving altogether. You both feel the aftershocks of your orgasms, Yeonjun milking one more thrust before he slacks. With another press of your lips to his, you leave his lap and collapse onto the bed.

Running to the bathroom, Yeonjun discards the condom and grabs a wet rag. When he makes it back to you, he cleans you with soft touches and praises, a loving gaze in his eye that you wouldn’t have expected from him after the immodest words he spoke to you before. He throws the rag in his hamper and tucks the comforter over your bodies when he lays down next to you.

In the silence that pervades after you’re both finished catching your breath, Yeonjun whispers, “I like you. A lot.”

You blush, tucking your head into the curve of his neck. “I like you too.”

In the low light, the candles using the last of the wax, you realize you were never weak because of him. You might have been weak for him, but you let yourself believe wanting to be near him was a sign of weakness. And that was wrong. The only thing that could be wrong now was missing out on nights like these for so long.

“I’ve liked you for a long time, ever since that stupid house party. I just never admitted it to myself,” you admit, propping your chin on his shoulder to stare into his eyes.

They light up in muted glee, part of him too tired to express his complete excitement. “Ditto.” He kisses you lazily, the stroke of his lips against yours better than any magic you could create. “Sorry I didn’t ask you on a date first. Seems I couldn’t wait.” He grins sheepishly, to which you laugh.

“Likewise. But we can go out tomorrow. Right now, just lie with me?”

Yeonjun nods, wrapping his arms around you and kissing your forehead. “As my witch commands.”

@gyubakeries @loserlvrss @jjunberry @frenchkisstheabyss @prkhaven @tinycatharsis @fangel @aaa-sia @lovetaroandtaemin @xomakara @yvnempire @bbangbies @addictedtohobi @filmnings @xylatox @dawngyu

𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒 ── .✦ @kstrucknet @k-films @kvanity-main @lapydiaries @cosyhomenet @moadiarynet @/pirateeznet @/thediamondlifenetwork @/sweetvenomnet @/deoboyznet @violetanet @whipped-kpop-creators

𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫 𝑴𝒀 𝑶𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹 𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑲𝑺 𝒐𝒓 𝑱𝑶𝑰𝑵 𝑴𝒀 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻𝑺 © 𝖠𝗅𝗅 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝖧𝖤𝖤𝖢𝖧𝖶𝖤; 𝖣𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖻𝗎𝗍𝖾 𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍.

[thekoalapastriesbakery]

STILL ME

trans ftm!formula one x male!reader

request: Hello how are you doing I hope you are doing great and can you ftm drivers reacting to their husbands shaving his beard and their child didn't recognise him so they started crying loudly none stop and can you include lewis Hamilton,Jenson Button, Sebastian vettel, Nico rosberg and kimi raikkonen ↳🐨

summary: your baby doesn't recognise you.

warnings: mild angst to fluff, probably overboard, very mild suggestive content (seb), mild implication of autistic!seb + autistic!reader (seb)

contains: jenson button, kimi raikkonen, + sebastian vettel

word count: 1,468 (total — 412/486/570 separately)

jenson button:

jenson knew you were shaving. with summer just around the corner, your beard was getting a little too hot for comfort. your baby wasn't yet a year old. for most, if not all, of their short little life, you'd had a full set of facial hair. they had only really learned how to recognise your face with a beard.

so, when you shaved, it was a little confusing for your bub.

seeing your baby for the first time in the morning was something you were cautiously optimistic for. you'd seen the many videos online of dads shaving and then having their babies not recognise them. you had braced yourself for a bad reaction. you just hadn't quite braced yourself enough. you had expected a bit of uncertainty and maybe a little crying, because your baby was (generally) pretty friendly.

except that wasn't what happened. they saw you without a beard for the first time, took a few seconds to process, and then started scream-crying. just what you wanted first thing in the morning. jenson came barrelling into the room seconds later. it only took a moment before he burst out laughing because he realised that the baby was only crying because of your (lack of a) beard.

"so helpful, jense, thank you," you muttered sarcastically and crouched down in front of your baby's crib. softening your voice to a coo, you poked just one finger through the bars for the baby to see. "it's okay, little one. still daddy, just … without the itchy hair."

"you're welcome, love!"

jenson's cheerful comment was followed by him crouching beside you and leaning into your side. "all good, bub. see?"

turning his head, jenson gave you an over-dramatised kiss—complete with a loud mwah! sound—to show your baby that you were the same person. of the two of you, jenson had definitely cornered the "dad jokes" part of fatherhood. it wasn't that you never told any. he just insisted on saying them all. the. time. which included big overdramatic kisses for you and baby, and only you and baby.

your baby looked between the two of you for another second. you could practically see the gears turning in their little head before they finally stopped crying. quiet sniffles and hiccups filled the silence of the nursery as you stood up and lifted your now-relaxed baby into your arms.

"see? still me," you murmured, pulling a funny face as both your baby and your husband giggled.

kimi raikkonen:

kimi woke up to crying.

in the last six months or so, that had become the norm. days where he woke up before the baby were few and far between but oh so sweet. a tired grumble later, he was up and trudging down the hall to the nursery. kimi smiled slightly when he heard your voice mixed with the baby's crying. usually, a couple lines of a lullaby from you and your baby would be blinking sleepily. not today.

"morning, love."

your voice was mildly stressed, surprising kimi. though not as much as he was about to be. you turned around. suddenly, the reason for the baby's crying became quite clear to your husband.

"you shaved," he said bluntly.

"i did."

"baby doesn't like it."

a quiet huff and a roll of your eyes as you bounced the distressed infant helplessly. "you don't say."

kimi reached forward and took the baby out of your arms, pausing quickly to blow a raspberry on their tummy before settling them on his hip. he helped their little arm point at you with a small smile. "who's that?"

your baby's cries quieted once they were in the arms of someone they recognised. they looked at you cautiously. it broke your heart, seeing your own child looking at you like you were a stranger, but you understood. they were too young to appreciate the subtler differences in people's faces, so your beard had been a defining feature. now that it was gone, they may as well have never seen you before.

"that's daddy," kimi supplied, still helping the baby point at you.

your baby seemed to recognise the title and looked around hopefully. when kimi guided them back to you, they shook their little head and started crying again.

"no, baby, it's okay," you murmured, still keeping your distance so as not to spook the little one. "daddy, see?"

grabbing a nearby blanket, you lifted it to cover your mouth and nose. it was a familiar sight for the baby after many months of peek-a-boo. once they recognised the top part of your face, you slowly lowered the cloth. no sudden movements. dropping it too quickly would just make the baby—who had yet to understand the concept of object permanence—think their daddy had disappeared and been replaced by the same scary stranger. by lowering it slowly and allowing your baby to slowly add your now-clean shaven features to what they associated with you, the crying came to a slow stop.

kimi was rather amused by the whole display. on the one hand, it was sweet how far you were going to keep your baby comfortable. on the other, it was somewhat hilarious to see a grown man slowly revealing his face from behind a baby blanket.

"there we go, huh?" you smiled, tickling the baby's tummy once they would finally let you get closer without screaming. "still daddy. promise."

sebastian vettel:

sebastian had been complaining about your facial hair for weeks. sure, it was hot and you looked great, but he was getting sick of rashes on his face (and his thighs). so, you finally decided to get rid of it. the only problem was that neither of you had considered how your baby would react. at eight months old, they weren't quite at the point of recognises faces with slightly altered features. they'd still get a little confused when they saw you or seb with sunglasses or a mask.

you'd had your beard for their whole short life—literally, you'd stopped shaving after they were born—so it was understandable that the change was quite a shock for them.

your husband knew you had shaved the night before. of course he did. seb had insisted on sitting on the bathroom counter and shaving your beard himself. he claimed he was just making sure you really did get rid of it. you knew it was just an excuse for him to kiss you and touch your face a lot without feeling parent guilt. still, you didn't argue or correct him. you'd take whatever quiet time you could get together.

all of this to say that, when he awoke to your baby's cries and your distressed voice trying to comfort them, it took a total of three seconds before seb understood. instead of helping, he just laughed. it wasn't deliberate. he didn't like that either you or your baby were upset. it was just funny to him that both of you had somehow forgotten to consider how your child would feel about the change. if they were anything like either of you, you probably could've guessed that the answer would be: not well.

"stop laughing!" you called out, already carrying your baby down the hallway to the bedroom you shared with seb. "this is not funny!"

seb sighed and wiped the tears of mirth out of the corners of his eyes. when you appeared in the doorway, holding a baby who very clearly didn't want to be held by you, it took all of his willpower not to burst out laughing again.

"oh, i'm sorry, maus," seb cooed, taking the infant out of your arms and bouncing them gently. momentarily, you were distracted by the movement of his hips. "does daddy look different?"

"it's papa's fault!"

"it is not!" seb gasped dramatically. "lies and slander."

"you were the one who demanded that i shave and now our baby hates me."

in that moment, seb seemed to realise how much of a toll the situation was taking on you. your hand raked through and tugged at your hair, making you look even more dishevelled, and the signature first-time-parent dark circles under your eyes seemed more and more prominent by the minute. it wasn't hard to see how having your own child not recognise you would be … well, somewhat stressful.

"hey, maus, it's okay." seb slowly walked closer to you before leaning forward and kissing your cheek. the way he did it was overdramatised to make sure the baby would catch every movement. "it's your daddy, yes?"

after a few more tries, your little maus had calmed down enough to let you hold them again. unsurprisingly, crying so much so early in the morning had been quite tiring, and they promptly fell asleep in your arms.

smiling softly, you kissed seb's forehead. "thank you."

©thekoalapastriesbakery :: please do not copy or rewrite my work on any platform !!

author's note: thank you to milo for listening to me complain about having writer's block for ages, and thank you to r/germany for helping me find parental nicknames for german kids :D haven't done lewis + nico bc i wasn't sure how to write them accurately for this.

comments + reblogs appreciated!

taglist: @raizelchrysanderoctavius @crispysoup318 @op-81-lvr-reblogs @ncrsbrg @spoonfulofmilo @justaf1girl @widow-cevans

[quandledlngle69]

⸻ オリヴァ 愛空 OLIVER AIKU. PART I.

TW; angst, tangled situationship, hurt, 'cheating', oliver feeling guilt, not proofread that well. w.c. 1.7k

Oliver Aiku knows you like the back of his hand.

he knows that almost anything makes you laugh, he knows your favourite makeup brand, your signature scent, the way you tuck your hair behind your ear when your paying attention to someone. he knows the cute scrunch of your nose when he teases you, he knows to always keep a hair tie on his wrist–with how forgetful you are. he knows how you prefer small, softer animals. he knows how much that dessert in that one restaurant means to you. he knows your favourite flower is the lily of the valley, because you like the way they droop and hang.

he also knows how your last relationship went, how it causes you to immediately shut down when someone yells at you. he knows how you go quiet when girls shamelessly hit on him, even when your standing right there. he knows that you know about the girls on his phone, in his dm's. he knows that he lets his mismatched eyes linger a little to long on other girls that aren't you. he knows the snarky, sarcastic, off–hand comments you make when he's annoyed you.

he also knows the slight trembling pout you do when your about to cry, the shaky loud exhale you do when tears start to brim your eyes. thats when he knows he's fucked up. he knows how he feels when your upset, particularly at him–his chest tightens, his stomach twists violently, and his smug persona dissipates into nothing.

he knows this is not a relationship, so why does it feel that way?

sure, he holds your hand in public, intertwined perfectly as if its supposed to be. sure, he always picks up food before heading to your apartment, knowing you'll jump and clap your hands with excitement. sure, one of your favourite bras is still hanging off his drawer. sure, he's never slept with you. not because he doesn't want to, but he feels as if he'd be taking something that isn't his. you've never slept with somebody before, he doesn't want to taint you all because he's selfish. sure, he likes kissing you. no, scratch that-he loves kissing you. he loves kissing you softly and gently, like a girl like you deserves. he loves the giggles that erupt from your throat when he blows raspberries into your neck. he loves your light–hearted complaints about his stubble, about how it tickles your skin.

he snaps out from his trance when he feels your hand shove something into his chest–his phone–before turning your back on him.

he couldn't imagine the dread and nausea you felt scrolling through the messages. he couldn't imagine the realisation you had when you figured out it was the girl he had told you not to worry about. he wished he could tell you it was only a shallow, lustful part of his brain. that it didn't mean anything. that she didn't mean anything.

but all he feels is that lump in his throat when you weakly ask him to explain himself. he looks at you like a kicked puppy, and you look at him like he's a stranger.

at his silence, you began to hastily shove things into your purse. and he doesn't stop you.

he's not gonna give you a cowardly excuse, no matter how bad the instinct is to do so. you already embody the word of exhaustion, you don't need his stupidity on top of that. the longer he watches you gather your things, the longer his lips remain sealed–the more he feels you slipping away.

given his history, you should have known better. you should have seen it coming. maybe it was the soft part of you, the openly trusting side that let him delve into the deepest parts of your soul, blind to the fact he would have just ripped it out in the end. you hated the fact you were dumb to assume those eyes only stayed on you, that his lips only caressed yours, that his hands were only fond with the curves of your body.

he fucking hates to see you cry, let alone sobbing so harshly. your mascara and lip gloss smeared down your face, some on the back of your hand from attempting to wipe away your blurry vision. you were dolled up for him an hour ago, he recalls how you once said you hated spoiling your expensive makeup. he wants to shoot himself in the foot when you gradually start to hyperventilate. the failed breathing exercises you were trying to do. you usually come to him. he usually calms you down. you usually place your ear to his chest, listening to his heart beat until yours syncs with his.

his hands itch to hold you. to squeeze you in his burly arms to ground you until your sniffles slow and your hiccups quiet down, but he knows he doesn't have the privilege anymore.

and before he knows it, your out the door. you stutter and blubber your last words, but he manages to figure out what you're saying:

don't call you. don't text you. don't try and contact you. he's just like the rest. that you should have known better. that you thought he was better. that your just a fool for thinking otherwise.

and then your gone, the only relief he has is that you got an uber. lord knows your not in the right headspace to drive all the way home.

──────────────────

the phone on his bedside table wouldn't stop ringing.

his unrestful sleep shattered as he shifts under the covers. he groaned in annoyance, kicking off his duvet. he rolled over as his hand fumbled in the dark–knocking off empty cups of noodle pots and snacks before picking up the light, rectangle shaped object. his thumb sluggishly taps on the green button, not even looking to see who it is before pressing it to his ear, answering with a hoarse and confused, 'hello?'

he immediately recognised sendo's voice, and the overlapping voices of his teammates in the background.

"captain, what the hell have you been up to? you've been ghost for days. we have a match soon and the teams in disarray without you."

oliver can hear the frustration and worry in his best friends voice, and he runs a hand down his face, because what was he meant say? was he meant to say that he's a piece of shit, that–

"–you fucked up didn't you?" sendo's voice was soft, almost as if he had known what oliver was thinking in the moment. he opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out, and the silence is filled with sendo sighing heavily on the other side of the phone.

"whatever you did, whatever she's found out, you've broken her. saw her the other day, actually."

oliver's heart skipped a beat, and he sits up straight in bed, listening and concentrating like never before.

──────────────────

{a few days prior.}

you had hoped that you wouldn't see anyone you knew. not like this, anyway.

you stared blankly at the shelfs of cup noodles in front of you, wondering deeply which one your stomach would allow to keep down. your limbs felt stiff from the days spent curled up, not moving unless it was for hygiene or to eat. you hadn't bothered to change, still wearing the matching baggy grey clothes from yesterday.

when you finally stop procrastinating and reach out to put a few noodle cups in your basket, you hear a familiar voice call your name.

your hand freezes where it began to reach out, your heart beat beginning to sharply beat harder then ever in your chest. you should have put your damn hood up.

you try and muster the most natural smile you could, looking up to the figure that had stopped beside you. your smile falters as you see the familiar salmon hair. its sendo, one of oliver's teammates and best friend. his own friendly smile drops when he sees your face. you looked so...miserable. your once sparkly eyes looked so dulled, the bags under them only convincing him of the lack of sleep you've endured. your cheeks were still stained with dry streaks of tears, your nose red and scrunched sore with every sniffle you took.

"uh-hi....." your voice sounds wobbly and frail, and you wince internally.

"hey-{name}, you okay? you look like you've been..." his words trial off as he looks up and down, biting his lip as if to stop himself from being insensitive. "you look–upset, is everything alright?"

your eyes dart away from his pity–filled ones, instead distracting yourself by playing with the sleeve of your hoodie holding the basket.

you don't answer him for a moment. your eyebrow twitching and your lips pressing firmly together in discomfort and irritation. because what where you supposed to say? that everything, was alright? because it wasn't–your anger, pain and heartbreak was like a wound that never stopped bleeding. that never stopped draining. even if it slowed down, even if it wasn't a huge gush, it still ebbed between your fingers, leaving their stains.

and his best friend was the cause of it.

"why don't you go and ask your, 'best friend'–maybe he'll give you an answer–or maybe an another one of his stupid fucking excuses."

you didn't mean to be so mean. you didn't mean to have your words so filled with distain–but it was like all the negative emotions spewed out like venom. even with the aggressive tone, sendo found it hard to not notice the quiver in your lips, the hurt in your features as you turned away from him, hastily walking off.

"wait!–do you know if Aiku's okay? he's been ghost for the past few days and the whole teams worried."

you stopped as for a moment, as you absorbed his words. was oliver just as affected as you were?

you shook your head. no. it doesn't matter how much despair he's feeling. he dug his grave and now he has to lie in it.

you don't answer sendo's question, instead just picking up the pace until you turned the corner, breaking out in a jog. ignoring his protests for you to wait, to come back, to talk to him.

you didn't want anything to do with oliver aiku. not anymore.

Quandaledlngle69 © 2025

・. ★ Credit for divider.ᐟ; @.florescita

[thanksbutno98]

Distractions

John Price x fem!readerOC

Warning: pregnancy, not edited.

Summary: You find yourself at your wits end when your husband, John Price, tries to take over your normal routine.

Authors Note: Needed to write something lighthearted to help cope with the hellscape that is tumblr.

——————

Today had marked a new kind of frustration. Maybe it was more like torture. Either way you found yourself ready to gear up and verbally fight your husband if he did one more overly nice thing for you.

John adores you and had for years now. It was no secret he’d do anything for you. But what you were starting to realize was he was now trying to do everything for you.

You need to get some laundry done? John’s already thrown it in and used a new detergent that leaves your skin itchy.

You want a piece of toast? Here you go darling! Nice and burnt.

A quiet walk to gather your thoughts and help you relax? John’s right next to you with your screaming toddler who didn’t want to go for a walk.

You’re craving a specific ice cream? Here’s the complete wrong flavor and brand!

John had been hovering over you and doing what he called ‘pampering’ you. You were six months pregnant with your baby girl and your husband was overdoing it. If you were honest you would tell him that him leaving you be for a few hours would be heaven. But, you cared about his feelings and couldn’t stomach seeing the frown that would form on his lips if you told him that.

So, here you were. About to grab the steaming kettle off the stove to make yourself and John some tea. It shouldn’t have been a surprise but it still was, John cut you off in the kitchen and grabbed the kettle before you could. He gave you a swift kiss to the top of your head and turned to where both your mugs were sitting on the kitchen island behind you.

“I’ve got it, darling. Why don’t you sit down and relax for a bit.” John had his back turned to you as he poured the steaming water over his and your preferred tea bags. It gave you a moment to roll your eyes and let out a silent yet frustrated huff of air.

“All I do is relax. And relaxing isn’t exactly helping me. . . relax. I want to do something. Like make myself a cup of tea.” Your tone was enough for John to know you were frustrated. But as smart as the man was this one flew right over his head.

“I know you’re frustrated. Not feeling yourself with being pregnant and all.” The words were sweet and sincere but made you want to face palm. He clearly wasn’t getting it.

I love him. I love him. I love him.

You chanted inside your head. It was taking mental gymnastics to keep finding excuses for yours husband’s overbearing nature the past few weeks. You’d tell yourself he was trying to make it up to you for his short comings your last pregnancy. The fact you were having a little girl spooked him because he was convinced she’d be made of glass while her brother was like a rubber ball bouncing off the walls of your home.

“Yeah, being pregnant is the problem.” You muttered sarcastically before practically stomping out of the kitchen to the living room. Not even taking the time to say thank you to John for making your tea just how you liked.

John watched you with wide eyes as you angrily stormed away. With a small sigh he shook his head in disapproval and continued to make up his tea. Running his hand over his bearded John ate an entire biscuit in one bite.

“Hormones.” He mumbled to himself with his mouth full. Internally deciding, that bad mood of yours had absolutely nothing to do with him.

How could it when he was being the poster child of the perfect husband?

Grabbing a few biscuits and a danish for you he headed into the living room to join you in whatever show you decided on. He was feeling a bit smug that he had picked these raspberry danishes up for you this morning while you showered. You had mentioned craving them within the first two minutes of your eyes being open that morning. So who was John to deny you what you so cutely mentioned you wanted. It would put a smile on your face and hopefully turn your sour mood sweet.

Walking into the living room John couldn’t help but beam at you. You were curled up in the farthest corner of the large couch with a ruby red blanket and arm outstretched with the tv remote. You were scrolling through the tv guide trying to pick something to watch.

“Got this for you.” John said with a sly smile and confidence radiating off of him. Sitting the pastries down in front of you he waited for his praise, but it didn’t come. Instead his loving wife was glaring as him as if he’d just kicked a puppy. It shook John to his core to see you staring at him with such a fiery gaze when he was expecting a sweet and loving one.

“Well, I’ll just-“ John pointed to where he was going to sit which was going to be directly next to you. The two of you were making serious eye contact as you slowly shook your head ‘no.’

Confused and apprehensive John’s thick finger slowly moved to point a bit farther down the couch. Seeing no sign of approval he continued to point further away from you until he was pointing at the farthest end of the u-shaped couch. That’s when you finally shook your head in approval.

“Okay, then.” John said more to himself. Maybe you were upset with him but John was convincing himself it was you being pregnant that was causing the moodiness.

Sitting down John avoided looking at you as he couldn’t stomach another sharp look from you. He began running through the day wondering what he could have done to leave you so pissed off. He did your laundry, put Jj down for nap, helped you cook and clean, hell he didn’t do anything for himself today. He spent his whole day trying to make your life as easy as possible. He didn’t even tell you he was going to the bakery, he thought surprising you would have you beaming.

Staring down at the raspberry danish John brought you felt like the final straw. Of course he went out to the bakery without you. You expressed wanting to go together and bring Jj so you all could pick out a few things but especially a CHEESE danish. Not this damn raspberry one. You were actually planning on going soon since Jj was down for his nap and John would have to stay home so you could go. It was the perfect excuse to get some space. But no. John just had to try and surprise you.

God you hated how sweet he was sometimes. He had the best of intention but horrible execution. If only you could just get that little bit of space without having to have an uncomfortable conversation. It would be heaven to you.

That’s when you saw it. The perfect plan was sitting here on your tv guide of all places.

“Didn’t realize there was a match today.” Your voice was laced in surprise and amusement. It had John’s head snapping in your direction at the change in mood. He internally sighed a breath of relief now concluding it had to be pregnancy hormones and not him.

Without another word you put on the football match that was thankfully two teams John had previously mentioned to you that were doing particularly well.

“Match is just starting.” John muttered more to himself. You watched carefully as his rugged body completely relaxed into the couch. Blue eyes transfixed on the tv and his attention no longer lingering on you.

“I’m gonna grab a beer-“

“I’m about to use the bathroom let me grab it for you.” You quickly cut John off and got up.

“Thanks, darling.” The thickness of John’s voice was back as he no longer used that charming tone he had been using to try and sweet talk you all day.

For what felt like the first time in weeks he didn’t hover. John didn’t try to do something for you or stop you. He just let you be. Because finally there was something that was more interesting than his pregnant wife, and that happened to be football.

Making your way down the hall you scurried into the kitchen. With a joyous squeal you muffled in your hand you poured John a pint of beer. Rummaging through the fridge you tried to find a snack that would keep him busy. Thats when you remembered you had his favorite crisps in the pantry. While in the pantry you tossed a few more beers in the fridge to get cold as you knew John would want more than one while watching the entirety of the match.

Loading up your arms you brought out a large bowl of crisps, a pint of beer and one of his cigars. You knew he’d smoke it outside during halftime which would keep him busy. With a cheeky smile you neatly placed everything on the coffee table in front of your husband. He had relocated to the center of the couch to get the best view of the tv which made you snicker. You knew him way too well.

“Well look who’s pampering me.” John joked playfully. Kissing his scruffy cheek he mumbled a thank you before taking a large gulp of beer and turned his attention back to the match after giving your ass a solid smack. He could he such a dude sometimes.

“I’m gonna go for a walk.” You called over your shoulder as you quickly made your way out of the living room.

“Nice.” John’s words were distant and you could tell he wasn’t actually paying attention to what you were saying.

It felt so good to be ignored right now.

——————

“Where in the hell did she go off to?” John muttered to himself as he looked around the house.

He had checked your office, the first floor, Jj’s room and your bedroom. But you were nowhere to be found and you clearly had your toddler with you. John made his way back down stairs to see if your car was parked in the drive way. That’s when he heard the familiar sound of your car door shutting and then a loud squeal of laughter from your son.

John was astounded you had left the house and he had no idea. You even brought Jj which made John feel like he was loosing his edge. You stopped in the living room at one point hours ago and Jj gave John a hug and kiss. No part of John picked up on the ‘bye bye’ from Jj, or wait? Now that he thought about it John did say bye back.

Walking out the back door John watched as you placed Jj on his feet in his full winter get up. The almost two year old started waddling as fast as he could toward John with half a mini cupcake in one hand and vanilla frosting and sprinkles smeared across his baby face. Without a second thought John was crouched down in his socks ready to scoop his little boy up.

“Look!” Jj squealed shoving the cupcake in John’s face. With a hearty laugh John scooped Jj up and tossed him in the air. Giggles rang through the crisp winter air as the cupcake fell to the ground to be forgotten.

Still giggling like crazy as he was being tickled by his daddy Jj snuggled into John’s neck and curled up. John had one strong arm under his little boys bum so Jj could cuddle up and hopefully start to doze off like he did sometimes.

“Went to the bakery?” John asked a bit surprised to see you with a big box of goodies.

“Yes! Had a wonderful couple hours out with the little guy. Went to the toy shop and picked out a few things for him and soon to be baby sister. Then stopped at my dad’s to have dinner and finally got some pastries.” You shook the box as John, no longer feeling the heavy weight from earlier. But now being left relaxed and light as the winter breeze.

“Ah, so you left me here to fend for myself?” John asked with a quirked eyebrow free hand rubbing his baby boys back. He wasn’t sure if he felt jilted being left out of your plans or relieved he got to have some time to himself and truly relax.

“You were busy and enjoying the football match. I didn’t want to disturb you. Plus, I brought home leftovers. Dad made chili.” Taking your thumb you gestured behind you to the car where leftover and bags of baby toys and clothes sat.

“So that little stunt of popping on the match was for me?” John asked.

Once the match was over and he was looking around for you John felt somewhat childish. He realized you had pulled the same trick you and he did when you needed to distract Jj. You’d put on the toddlers favorite program and get sometime to decompress. Only this time you put on football and gave John a snack and beer to keep him occupied. Even went as far as getting his cigar out for him and stocking the fridge with a few extra beers.

“It was for both of us. Well relaxed?” You asked standing on your toes and placing a sweet kiss to John’s lips that he happily returned.

“Yeah, and you seem to be in better spirits.” The charming smile he wore told you there were no hurt feelings between you and your amazing husband.

“Yes, because I got the cheese danish I wanted. Not raspberry.” You finally admitted with a honey suckle laugh.

“So, that’s what that look was for.” John exclaimed and then let out a deep laugh that took the shape of white puffs of air in the winter night.

~~~~~tag list~~~~~

@exhaustedpotat0 @glitterypirateduck @ivymarquis @crazymela @what-0-life @boredfairy4 @hihhasotherfixations @stephanswhxre @shanjisan @k4es @luvleywrites @kita03-0 @midwesternwitchery @aleynaleia @suckerforbassist @misshoneypaper @theaonlax @blackstar9005 @tooterbutt @havoc973 @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @freshlemontea @cosmoscoffeee @sae1kie @ohworm-writes @ghostslittlegf @fanficwriterlover @arminarlertssword @faceache111 @azu21 @nini-11-08 @sgtgarricks @kiki-is-hyperfixating @mayflysdie

[theofthevalley]

Could you please write for Rodrick and a gender neutral s/o going out to a convenience store to get differently flavored slushies (red and blue) so they can kiss until their tongues are purple. Just lower effort date things... 👁👁

“Last Friday Night.”

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Rodrick Heffley Headcanon’s with GN!Reader (Established Relationship)

⇢ ˗ˏˋ You and Rodrick love going out to gas stations nearby just to stock up on snacks and drinks. Especially slushies, today was no different. He would pull up to your house and ring your doorbell as he waited outside with flowers in his hands. Today, Rodrick Heffley was going to take you out on a date to the gas station!

⇢ ˗ˏˋ You opened the door, and then there you saw your beloved boyfriend with a couple of flowers in his hands. He gave them to you and smiled as he took your hand, dragging you away into his van this late at night. It was a night date, and you couldn’t help but kiss his cheek as you got into the passenger seat of the van.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ While he drove, you were in control of the music and played one of your favorite songs that both of you liked. Singing along while he tapped his finger against the steering wheel. You looked out the window and smiled as you saw the gas station come into view. He pulled in and parked the van, rushing to get out of the car, stumbling out of his seat just to open the door for you. He gave you a small grin as he opened the door.

“What a gentleman my boyfriend is.”

You replied sarcastically with a smile as you hopped out of the van. He slammed the door after and then stood beside you, grabbing your hand, intertwining it with his own.

“Mhm, I’m just that great! Now come on, let’s go get some snacks.”

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Both of you ransacked the whole place, grabbing snacks left and right. And then you passed by the slushies and nudged him to get his attention. He gave you a confused look as he was holding multiple snacks in his arms.

“Let’s get slushies, what’s a snack without a drink?”

“Oh yeah, you’re right. I call dibs on blue raspberry!!”

“Hey! I like blue raspberry!”

“Well, you could just have cherry.”

You huff at him, but truly, you didn't care about it. He shrugged at you as he stepped forward to grab a cup while trying to juggle the snacks in his arms. He lays them on the counter while he goes ahead to get his drink. After both of you get your drinks, you go to the counter and he pays for everything even though you had tried to stop him.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Back in the van, both of you munched on some snacks and sipped on your drinks, as he had said he would. You shared drinks. But the thing was, he wanted kisses as payment for letting you take a sip. And so you did. At first, it was just sweet and short kisses, but somehow you had ended up on his lap, making out with him. Tongues mixing with one another, his blue tongue mixed with your bright red one. He pulled away for air and looked into your eyes.

“Mm, babe, you taste like cherry.”

“Yeah? Well, you taste like blue raspberry.”

He rubbed his hands on your thighs and kissed you once more as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Soft pants and sloppy kisses, this was the dream, and you were happily living in it. This time, you were the one to pull away, both of your tongues turned purple from all that making out. He grinned at you and held you close.

“You're an idiot.”

“Then I guess that makes me your idiot.”

He was silly and dorky, but you loved him, and this had to be one of the greatest dates he's taken you on. Low effort yet fun and enjoyable. You love him, and he loves you on this wonderful Friday night.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Advertisement: Hey you! Yeah you, the person who read this whole thing, do you like Rodrick? Well this blog is THE place for Rodrick fanfiction. Check my bio if I have requests open and my rules.

A/N: Another one down!! Hope you liked this Anon!! Also, another title reference to the song 'Last Friday Night (T.G.I.F.)' by Katy Perry!!

Word Count: 632 words

[sphireath-wisp]

#Backstage Pass!

Synopsis -> What an electrifying performance, it was worth all that money and time waiting. It was so good that you wanted an encore - in private, with less talking and more action.

Warnings -> Not proofread, all aged up, suggestive, language, Rin is objectively sweeter than Sae and Kaiser, mean Sae and Kaiser

Featuring -> Michael Kaiser, Sae Itoshi, Rin Itoshi x F! Reader

"Oh, of course, you like MICHAEL KAISER, of all people," You force a sarcastic smirk, eyebrows creasing as if you eye her up and down as if you were judging her for some sort of malefaction. Honestly speaking, you should have foreseen this. You're the one who wants to go to the concert; you dragged your friend along so it wouldn't be a solo trip, but she's developed a liking for the blonde boy. He's the playboy type who goes on stage shirtless, flaunting the ink adorning his skin. Even when he makes the gracious decision to wear a solid-coloured tank top, it doesn't take away any attention from the prominent cerulean rose blooming on his throat. Her blase favouritism of Kaiser was nothing new.

Beneath the charisma - so lamentable, it was laudable, Kaiser had an ego that reached for the stars. But it was his solipsism that made him such a star, an unbreakable confidence that shined even brighter as he played. It's unusual for a bassist to get so much attention in a band, but everything was absurd about Kaiser in the first place. And the worst part is: he had the skill to back it up, every single shit-eating grin.

"An encore?" You watch Kaiser mouth out to the audience, and the crowd goes wild - especially the fans with the tips of their hair dyed a gaudy blue. Your friend shakes you back and forth, spilling a mix of 'thank yous' and 'ohmygosh' past her lips. His grin only grows wider as he hears the crowd cheer, almost expectantly, like the crowd was supposed to meet his expectations.

"You have a backstage pass, right? Do you think I could snatch his number?" Your friend nudges you, readily waiting for a supportive response. You hum - pretending to think so you wouldn't have to turn her down so flatly. "He's kissed fans before, so you'll need to try your luck, yeah?" You give your friend a comforting pat on the back, but you're the one who needs to reassure yourself, "Anyway, he's just eye candy, right?" She nods insouciantly: after all, it's not like they know each other.

When you see her soothing smile, for a split second, you wonder if you're being too critical of Kaiser. Your friend seems to enjoy the concert, maybe this has created common ground for you and her to bond. This smug bastard and his god-given charm may actually be a blessing in disguise.

"Don't you know how to swallow? You're drooling," You soon learn that you're a good judge of character when Kaiser forces his thumb into your mouth. You realize that your gut has always been right, and you can't decipher whether the uncomfortable churning in your stomach is due to butterflies or the sickening taste of nail polish on your tongue. Gosh, you feel like an idiot for doubting yourself and, most of all, doubting how much of a bastard he can be. Kaiser pulls you closer on his lap as if he couldn't get enough of your Carolina Herrera, and palms the swell of your ass when you scrape your teeth over his knuckle.

Your nails, freshly coated in a shade of rose that disgustingly reminds him more of that keyboardist than himself, scratch his forearm on their way up to his clavicle, leaving a trail of hot fire in their wake. Your raspberry-flushed skin matches his, especially when your fingers - more suited for loving than burning - wrap around the expanse of his neck and threaten to crush his airways. His fingers are out of your mouth, and his breath is already lost before anything has begun; you're starting to see the appeal in womanizers when his half-lidded eyes - glossy and lovestruck - stare with a shimmer that rivals stars.

"Didn't expect to find a beauty like you in the crowd, but you were giving me such a dirty look," His words are coated in honey, like flattering women is second nature for him. Your grip unconsciously loosens at his praise, and he uses his newfound leeway to capture your lips in his. He smells like Maison Margiela's Jazz Club, rum rubs off your sweat-slicked skin, and you swear you feel his teeth on your tongue when you press your chest against his.

His hands undo the clasp of your bra, and his tongue plays with the rest of your sanity. You swear to whoever's listening that you need another bottle of beer to wash this feeling of longing away because you're sure you're drunk on him. Kaiser's always been known to kiss his fans, but he kisses his haters even harder.

"SAE ITOSHI, apologize this instant!" Kaiser mimics their manager, arms crossed and voice in an ear-gratingly, squeaky high pitch. Almost condescendingly, he grabs the keyboardist by the hair and forces his gaze down - to the point where he's at a 90-degree bow. "How could you treat a young lady like that?!" He scoffs as Sae swats Kaiser's hand off of his hair, clicking his tongue, irritation crystalline clear.

"R-Really, it's okay...!" You try to get a word in, raising your hands awkwardly to try and ease the situation. Kaiser is dead set on humiliating Sae, though; he's planning to get a good laugh like the carefree narcissist he is. You have to visibly hold back your laughter, heaps of air gathering in your lungs, and it bubbles in your chest. Sae straightens himself out, clearing his throat as he looks down at you from on the stage. Hopping off the platform to get on your level, the only thing separating the both of you is the railing set up for crowd control (and the bodyguards), he lets out a deep sigh.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to get your shirt wet and... I hope I didn't ruin the performance for you," He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly and cranes his neck to look away, not out of shame, though. Rather, Sae isn't sure where he's supposed to look. Your see-through white shirt is drenched, and the lacy black bra you have under is clear as day (though it is partially your fault for wearing black under white - Sae's gone through enough girlfriends to know that women are aware of these things, but he'll admit his faults and apologize anyway.) To be frank, he finds the event a blessing in disguise; you're gorgeous in lace, but he wouldn't say that aloud lest he be considered a pervert.

It was already past midnight, and the concert had ended, fans still stuck around to snag a photo with their favourite member, though. Seeing you at the front of the crowd (and the obvious 'accident' with your shirt), Kaiser caught him staring and decided to be a bigmouth. Swooping in like the playboy he is, he acted all righteous when he heard what happened and well... Sae Itoshi has his head bowed like a little boy apologizing to their mother.

"I'll make it up for you, yeah?" he states firmly, and the air shifts when you agree oh-so-sweetly. Ladies first, he would say, to avoid staring at your chest, but you could feel eyes glued to the mound of your ass from under your miniskirt.

He's making it up to you, alright, with his knee between your thighs. Long, slender fingers slip up your skirt, and the lacy black panties you have under make his star-etched pupils morph into hearts right before your lovestruck eyes. He's patient, he's graceful, and he's deft with every kiss to the point it makes you feel hungry. Diet Pepsi by Addison Rae plays on the radio, and he cages you onto the cushioned seats.

Your legs wrap around his waist like poison ivy, and there's sweet venom every time your collar is stained royal purple. His tongue dances on your skin, and it's even more mind-numbing when his tongue traces yours. With a gasp, or a squeal, or maybe a mix of both, you wonder how long it's been and why he's torturing you like this, and your eagerness tastes like honey to Sae.

Sae swears he's never met a girl so noisy before, but hell if he cares. He wouldn't mind if he met you after every performance, or if he snuck you into the studio to have you right there and then whenever that bastard Kaiser opens his mouth. Bleary-eyed and half-lidded, he thinks you look cute like this and, damn, his eyes weren't lying when you looked good in lace. He almost feels bad. You swear your skin feels like it's on fire, and he's your fuel. You breathe him like oxygen and he's as starved as you, he never knew what air felt like before you.

Sae's fingers, the ones that used to be so rough from playing the guitar with his little brother, the ones that have grown long from years of playing the keyboard, slip under the waistband of your lacy panties. He whispers apologies that he doesn't mean, and he swears to buy you another set as soon as possible. You don't care about his apology, you knew he was a half-hearted bastard the moment he blatantly ogled at you earlier. What's more important is the new set and this perverted idiot better give you another stress-relieving night for the trouble he's put you through! You know Sae Itoshi always keeps his promises.

RIN ITOSHI, the exceptional newbie in the band. Introduced as the 2nd electric guitarist, he hid his prior connections with Sae Itoshi to avoid accusations of being a mere product of nepotism. People had already acknowledged his skills by the time the truth spread. He didn't really catch your eye in terms of personality. He was as reclusive as his older brother but more vocal with his thoughts. If his brother had an "enigmatic" appeal to him, he would be "unapproachable".

"He's cute, isn't he?" Your friend playfully hums by the shell of your ear, and you shrug indifferently in response. Your gaze trawls through his black leather jacket, which looks like it was inherited from someone older, with its sleeves folded to the middle of his forearms. His stringed necklace dangles down to his electric guitar when he slouches, calloused fingers hovering over the strings. "Pretty good for someone new..." Your friend continues, her own eyes the furthest thing from chaste. Yet, instead of chiding her, you'll be the one apologizing sooner or later - you couldn't catch anything she said when Rin happened to glance up in your direction, no less. Coincidence or not, his tongue peeks out of his mouth, the pink muscle running over his lips.

Slim teal eyes narrow at you sharply when you don't look away immediately. You stare back as if you haven't sensed his annoyance and sheer arrogance, and you're utterly shameless about it too. As if mocking the guitarist, you stick your tongue out before openly running it over the canvas of your teeth.

You pass it off as flirting with no goal in mind, especially when his face scrunches up in belying disgust. It was nothing more than passive teasing, the kind of thing you'll dream about when the boys you know act stupid and the tension you'll crave when life gets dull. It's something you'll romanticize for the rest of your life until Rin Itoshi is muddled in a scandal, and you can't see anything attractive in those piercing eyes.

Well, you were half-right.

"Isn't your friend looking for you?" he half-mocks with a tone that makes you want to slap him stupid until the apple of his cheeks is as swollen as your cherry red lips. His mouth is as dirty as it tastes, and he doesn't know how to treat a woman at all. There's nothing remotely sweet about Rin, but the naivety blinding him - convincing him silently that he doesn't want this as bad as you do - is caramel on your tongue.

He's too young and dumb, your voice of reason echoes in the expanse of your skull, and you're sure he hasn't locked the door, but he's already kissed you silly. The black dressing room table feels a little shaky whenever his tongue slips into your mouth, or perhaps your whole world is shaking because of him. Your back crams against the mirror, and the warmth of the LED strips make your brain fuzzy. Eagerness and embarrassment conflict when he holds your waist, rough fingertips shyly slipping under the hem of your shirt and tapping against your skin as if asking for permission. His hesitation is evident when you pull away and the thought of upsetting you strangely eats him whole.

Your chest heaves up and down, off-beat from the temperamental percussion of your heart. "You're asking that now?" you manage out whilst guiding his curious hands further under your shirt, "Sweetheart, don't act like you're worried someone will catch us." Catching your breath, you yearn to lose it again as you lean forward for another round, the white quartz of his stringed necklace cold against your skin once he flips your shirt up.

You can't tell if the lights are flickering or if the flash of a camera has caught you so vulnerable, like putty and moulded into Rin's embrace. But, you don't care, and Rin seems to care even less with the way he whispers sticky sugar promises to buy you another Dior lip gloss and a new bag to boot. It'll be his first scandal if the paparazzi have caught the both of you, but you'll celebrate it with a bottle of champagne in the walls of his apartment, for sure.

Taglist: @dewwberry, @mikmwehehe

[hitomisuzuya]

requests are open, WOO!!

I've got an idea for scara. Yk how he always sticks his tongue out and blows raspberries at us? Imagine him doing that over the whole day, being the sarcastic bf he is and fem!reader gets annoyed, ending with scara/wanderer (idc which one, both are hot ngl) putting that tongue to good use, showing her how good he can make her feel with it over and over again?

ALSO, my condolences for the heat wave where you're at, we're having constant thunderstorms here💀

Scaramouche x fem!reader. Smut. Cunnilingus. Multiple orgasms. Pussy drunk!Scara. Ego stroking. Slut used once.

June 7th, guys. June 7th is when they coming to put the new AC unit in. Send your storms my way, dear❤️

"Is this what you meant when you asked me to use my tongue for something else?" Scaramouche asked, prodding and swirling his tongue around your pulsing clit. You could only dignify him with shaky sighs and moans that started to rise in octave as your grinded your cunt against his tongue.

You couldn't even be annoyed or quite frankly infuriated at his chuckle. The same egotistical laugh he'd been using all day, his remarks dripping with sarcasm while he stuck his tongue out at you.

This man never cared if he was infuriating or annoying. It was a people issue, not a him issue. And you loved him for that. So much. But today, damn he was just extra relentless.

Your hand found the back of his head, pushing his mouth further down onto your puffy pussy, each lick and glide from his tongue making you wetter. Almost embarrassingly so.

This is much more preferable to his gremlin behavior. You were steadily forgetting that you had been annoyed with him. W-why was I annoyed with him again? You even stumbled over thinking those words in your head, your loudest moan of the afternoon filtering in his ears as he swept his tongue down from your clit, plunging it inside of you.

Your hips bucked into Scaramouche's mouth, his tongue taking you higher and higher. He groaned feeling your walls clench around his tongue, his hands firmly holding your thighs apart. "Go on," He purred, smirking up at you, "use your words, pretty."

He tapped his beautiful fingers in the inside of your thighs impatiently. He knew full well he could make you cum as fast as he wanted, or let you cum when he decided he could. Swirling his tongue inside of you, he took great care in making you feel every lick on your sensitive walls.

You whimpered as he withdrew his tongue, feeling his ego growing. In the dizzying pleasure he was tongue was bringing you, you felt compelled to stroke his ego like you always did. His behavior be damned, he deserves it.

Scaramouche grew more impatient despite feeling proud that he was starting to melt your poor little brain with his tongue so fast. He sucked on your clit again, encouraging you to speak.

He always got what he wanted.

"Your tongue is making me see Celestia," You cried out. Every urgent tug on his hair made his cock throb, and harden. He could get off hearing you in the throes of pleasure. He fed on it. His tongue sped up on your clit, demanding more. "It's only your tongue I want. It's all I ever want," You babbled, your body twitching as he vibrated a muffled moan on your cunt.

"What a slut," Scaramouche moaned, getting drunk on your taste. Your worshipping praise only added fuel to the fire. His tongue worked over your clit with the same relentlessness he used in sticking it out at you all day.

Archons, he loves it when you stroke his ego. He wanted to cum like the good girl you are for him.

Scaramouche rutted his aching cock into the mattress. "Go on," He growled, releasing your clit with a soft, wet pop. He flattened his tongue, giving it kitten licks.

"It's only your tongue that can make me cum," You whimpered before your orgasm suddenly hit you. He loudly slurped loudly at your cunt, indulging himself in the taste while he tongue fucked you through your orgasm.

Scaramouche promptly sucked on your clit again, making you nearly scream from pleasure. He could feel your hands trembling as you pushed his mouth down onto your cunt. "I need more," He groaned, his fingers digging into your thighs.

Having not come down from your first orgasm, it didn't take long for you to cum again, squirting as well much to his delight.

But he did not stop, driven with the intent to make you cum again.

[hllywdwhre]

Long Time Coming

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!reader

Summary: When each of the family members noticed you and Tommy falling for each other

Warnings: arranged marriage, mentions of heroin (talks about how Tommy used it and the Chinese selling it - nothing graphic, only mentions), let me know if I missed any!

Word Count: 1.7K

Notes: THANK YOU for all the love on Revenge! After many comments and requests asking for more of the pairing, I decided to delve deeper into the development of Tommy and her’s relationship. Up next is moments reader and Tommy fell for each other!

Can technically be read as a stand-alone, but is meant to pair with this Tommy fic I wrote.

Polly

Polly was the second to catch on. She knows her nephew far too well to not notice the small changes. Grace’s death changed something deep inside of Tommy and she didn’t think she’d ever see the day when Tommy, not only fell in love but allowed himself to love again.

Then you came along.

He started smiling more and drinking less. You got him to stop using dope to self-medicate. He also didn’t look nearly as tired.

She always said Tommy had his mother’s smile when he truly smiled, and it had been a long time since Polly had seen her sister’s smile on his face. You made a sarcastic comment in the private booth at The Garrison once though and there it was.

She noticed you falling for him when you came to her with way too much anxiety over an innocent, and adorable, request.

You were picking at your nails as you sat on her sofa while she lit a candle in her living room,

“Tommy mentioned you were the only one who had ever been able to replicate his mother’s raspberry tart recipe. I was wondering if there was any way you could teach me to make them?”

Polly froze for a moment, surprised at the request given your anxious state. It was then that she realized why you were so nervous. Even if you hadn’t realized it, you were falling for Tommy.

You two spent the rest of the day in her kitchen perfecting the recipe.

Arthur

Arthur, bless him, can be pretty blind when it comes to romance. Like. Really blind. Lust? He can spot it a mile away. Hell, he was the first to notice that you and Tommy were sleeping together. But love? Gods help him.

It took until you killed Sabini for him to notice the two of you were in love.

The next day neither you nor Tommy wanted to leave your bed, but an emergency family meeting with the Shelbys and your father had been called because of your actions.

When you told everyone what you had done, Arthur was the first to break the shocked silence.

“Why the bloody ‘ell would you ‘ave done that?” He’d shouted in a mix of shock and anger.

“He’s been intimidating my father and me for over a year now, and then yesterday I learned what he had done to you lot… My anger got the best of me and I was tired of him,” you’d replied with a deep crimson blush spreading across your face.

The rest of the family and your father wore knowing smirks at your explanation, but you could see the moment it all clicked in Arthur’s eyes. His smirk spread across his face and his tone went from shocked and angry, to proud.

“Well, love, remind me not to piss you off.”

John

Since he’d had an arranged marriage of his own, John knew better than most what you and Tommy were going through. In a rare moment of vulnerability, Tommy had actually come to John for advice before the wedding on how to help things go more smoothly and make sure that you were comfortable.

After a couple of months of being married, John had gotten Tommy alone and checked in on how he and you were doing. It was when Tommy had seemed surprised that things were going so well that John noticed his brother was becoming fond of you. He didn’t question Tommy on how he felt, he knew better than to think his brother would spill his heart to him, but he could see that Tommy felt something for you.

Esme & Ada

Once again, since Esme’s own marriage into the Shelby family was an arranged one, she went out of her way to make you feel included and make sure you knew that she was an open, non-judgmental, and private ear you could turn to.

Ada walked in on you and Esme having a more vulnerable conversation when you were first married and you and Esme both immediately changed the topic. When Ada later asked Esme in private what the two of you had been discussing, Esme answered as honestly as she could without giving away details.

”I know what she’s going through, to an extent. I got lucky with how quickly I was accepted since John and I immediately clicked. Not to mention the way I saw every inch of you on our wedding night,” Esme said, both her and Ada laughing lightly at the memory of Esme not seeing her own husband naked on their wedding night, but instead his sister as she gave birth to Karl.

After that, Ada made sure to include you in any shopping trips she went on and opened her house in London to you in case you ever needed to get away.

”I know how my brother is. He can be a right twat when he wants to be. Just let me know if you ever need an escape. We’ll call it a girl’s night.”

The two women noticed you falling for Tommy when you were included in one of the shopping trips and they asked how things were going. You’d tried to brush the question off far too quickly, and when they couldn’t pry out of you that anything bad had happened, they quickly pieced together that you were catching feelings.

Michael

Michael noticed as Tommy’s jealousy and protectiveness over you grew. The Shelby family knew you were capable of handling your own, but that didn’t mean Tommy wasn’t going to be protective. Especially after Grace.

Michael watched the way Tommy went from simply glaring at any men who tried flirting with you, to approaching the men and wrapping his arm around you while questioning whatever unfortunate man had angered him if "he had spotted the ring on your finger and was simply stupid, or if he was blind."

Jealousy was what gave it away for Michael.

Finn

Finn noticed after a particularly dangerous job involving you didn’t go according to plan. You and Finn were the only two who wouldn’t be immediately recognized, so it was up to you two to find out if the Chinese had been selling heroin even after Tommy had threatened them with a bomb.

The two of you had been separated and you hadn’t returned yet when Finn made his way to the betting shop where everyone was waiting.

Tommy’s rage when Finn dared show up without you was something Finn never wanted to be on the receiving end of again.

Charlie

Charlie was the first to notice. Granted he didn’t realize what he was seeing, but he had noticed.

You had convinced Tommy to build a stable at The Arrow House. He, Charlie, and you all loved horses, and it would be a fun way for you and Charlie to bond.

Tommy was away on business and you and Charlie had decided to take the horses for a ride. Charlie sat in front of you and you were letting him guide the horse as he hammered you with various questions about the world.

“Why do horses eat grass? Where do horses come from? Why can’t they eat human food?”

It was during this conversation that he pointed out that Tommy liked you.

“When will Daddy be back?” Charlie asked you.

“In two more days. He’s handling some business in London,” you answered easily.

“I miss him,” he said wistfully.

“I’m sure he misses you, too,” you reassured, “but he has to work so we can have our house and horses,” you told him, hoping to comfort the child some more.

“Do you miss him?” Charlie questioned, turning his head to look up at you.

“I do,” you answered easily. It wasn’t a lie.

By this point, you had grown to care for Tommy. You thought it was only as a friend and nothing more, but Charlie seemed to notice it was something different. You and Tommy didn’t feel the need to explain to Charlie what an arranged marriage was. The two of you had talked about how you were going to explain your marriage to Charlie, and you had both come up with a way to explain it to him without potentially causing any insecurities in the child or exposing him to what an arranged marriage was. It was a delicate balance of lies and truth, but neither of you wanted to tell Charlie “Well, sometimes marriage isn’t love, it’s business.” He was going to deal with enough at the truth of his mother’s death, and neither of you felt it was necessary to add a potential insecurity about whether the new mother figure in his life actually cared for him.

“He misses you, too,” Charlie said, breaking you out of your thoughts.

Your eyebrows furrowed together and you looked down at him,

“I’d hope so since we’re married, but what makes you say that?” You were still walking that delicate line of truth and lies, but his comment had piqued your interest.

“He watches you a lot and smiles a lot.”

His simple explanation could easily be explained away and you explained it away internally, but Charlie had noticed what you and Tommy hadn’t noticed yet.

Alfie

Alfie and you had always had a cheeky and joking relationship. You got on like old school friends more than sometimes-ally-sometimes-pain-in-the-ass.

However, when Tommy and you came to him to see if you could rally his support in the inevitable war that was going to break out with Sabini’s men, he noticed the dynamic had changed. Typically meetings with Alfie were tense with the atmosphere only broken by your sarcastic comments and Alfie’s borderline flirting with you.

Alfie was taken aback when you shot down his flirting and Tommy sent a glare his way.

He recovered quickly though and soon went on to teasing the two of you about your “newfound happiness”.

”Was wondering when the two of you were going to pull your heads out of your asses and smell the roses.”

[ginax0916]

₊✧ 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐀𝐧𝐤𝐥𝐞 ✧₊

Chris Sturniolo x hurt!gf!reader

Genre: Fluff

Synopsis: Chris’s gf’s ankle is broken and he helps her even when she doesn’t need help.

*I got the idea of writing this from their recent Wednesday video where Chris tried to help Matt down the stairs*

✧˖°⋆⑅˚₊

“So what did the doctor say?” My boyfriend Chris asks as I walk back into the waiting room where he waits with his brothers.

“Well if you couldn’t already tell by the boot on my foot, my ankle is broken” I sarcastically say.

“Oh shit. What even happened?” Matt asks.

“My dumbass got on the kitchen counter to reach something from the top shelf and when I jumped down I landed on it wrong and then I heard a crack and well yall know the rest” I sigh limping to them.

“Yo you sure you’re good to walk all the way to the car love?” Chris asks holding me up by my waist.

“Oh by the way y/n it would be good to invest in crutches for the first few days! Forgot to mention that earlier” The doctor says as she walks out into the waiting room to call her next patient.

“Does that answer your question?” I laugh.

We sign the papers I needed to be discharged and both Chris and Matt help me limp back to the car since I refuse to be carried like a baby.

“I’m gonna stop at Walgreens because they sell crutches there I’m pretty sure” Matt says.

“But I don’t want crutches” I sigh for the hundredth time.

“Y/n the doctor literally walked out to tell you that you need crutches. We’re buying them” Nick retorts.

“Fine whatever” I slouch down in defeat.

“Ok we’re here. Y/n stay in the car so you don’t have to walk all the way there. Do you want anything else?” Matt questions.

“Can you get me some nerd gummy clusters please? Oooh and a bottle of raspberry Iced Tea if there is any” I smile.

“Of course kid” Matt smiles back.

“I’ll stay with her in the car” Chris says.

“Alright just don’t be making out once we get back” Nick rolls his eyes as he closes the door.

“How you feel ma? Does it hurt?” Chris asks and rubs my thigh.

“I’m okay. And no it doesn’t hurt it feels fine actually” I say.

“Alright then that’s good” I nod in agreement.

“So how am I meant to fuck you with your broken ankle”

“Chris! Why is that your first concern” I laugh.

“I literally asked if it hurt 2 seconds ago!” He lifts his hands in defense.

“Wow makes such a difference Christopher” I slap his arm.

“See! Fucking you was not my first concern initially” He points his finger at me laughing.

“Yea but it was your second which is insane” I giggle.

“Come on don’t act like it wasn’t yours” He smiles sheepishly.

“Oh shut up Chris” I laugh again.

“Oh good you’re both decent” Nick says startling us as he opens the car door.

“Come on we aren’t that immature Nick” Chris says.

“Oh trust me you are Christopher” Nick pats him on the shoulder.

“What’s with people and calling me Christopher today damn” Chris turns back around in his seat.

“Y/n I got you the ice tea you wanted and along with the candy. And unfortunately they were out of stock of crutches so they let us order them online so they should arrive in like 2-3 days” Matt comments as he gets in the car handing me my stuff.

“Thanks Matt” I say. “I can go 2-3 days without walking I’m sure” I chuckle.

“I can just carry you around” Chris speaks up.

“What a delight” I sarcastically say.

“Oh come don’t act like you don’t already ask me to carry you around because you’re too lazy” He says slightly offended by my joke.

“I’m joking baby of course I don’t mind being carried around by you” I giggle.

—

“I’m gonna go pick up Canes for dinner is that good with you guys?” Matt yells from the garage.

“Yes that’s perfect thanks Matt!” I yell back.

“Wait I wanna come with you I’m bored and you always get my order wrong any way” Nick says while running down the stairs to join Matt.

“See ya guys!” Nick says.

“Bye Nick!” Both Chris and I say back.

“So what do you wanna do mama?” Chris asks, sitting down on the couch with me.

“I’m not sure. What is there to do?” I turn my body to be facing Chris and I lay my head of the cushions behind me.

“We could watch a movie, watch YouTube, play a board game or just talk. Whatever you want baby” Chris says, grabbing both my legs and draping them over his lap careful to not hurt my ankle.

“Ummm I’m not sure. But I have to pee” I say getting up. Slightly wincing at the pain of my foot touching the ground.

“C’mere” Chris mumbles, picking me up bridal style and carrying me to the bathroom.

“Thank you Chrissy” I kiss him on the cheek.

“You’re welcome and don’t call me that again” He laughs.

“Can you take my pants off for me please?” I pout.

“Oh now you’re just being a baby. Your hands work perfectly fine” Chris rolls his eyes.

“Fine me the injured person who could die any second will pull her owns pants down god” I dramatically say.

“Oh shut up and go to the bathroom babe” Chris says walking out of the bathroom laughing.

As I finish I limp into the kitchen where Chris leans against the counter.

“Hey you’re not meant to be walking you should’ve called me” Chris says picking me up and setting me on the countertop.

“I swear I’m okay love” I smile cupping his cheeks.

“Yea well the boot on your foot says otherwise” He says and grabs my waist pulling me into a warm hug.

“I love your hugs” I say nuzzling closer into him.

“And I love hugging you” He mumbles, kissing my cheek.

“Can we go to your room and watch a movie while Nick and Matt get back?” I politely ask.

“Of course we can ma” Chris smiles helping me down from the counter.

“Alright c’mon I’ll carry you down the stairs baby” He comments as he bends down ready to pick me up.

“No wait I want to do it myself” I shake my head.

“Babe the doctor said you had to be in crutches you most definitely can’t go down the stairs by yourself” Chris sighs annoyed at my stubbornness.

“Please baby? I swear I can do it” I give him my best puppy eyes to convince him.

“No don’t look at me like that ma you know I’m gonna cave” Chris covers his face with his hands.

“I’m taking that as a yes” I giggle.

“But I will be right behind you and I’m going to pick you up the second I see you stumble understood?” Chris sternly says.

“Yes I understand” I smile.

I step one foot on the first step and then the next, grabbing tightly onto the rail I limp my way down to the 4th step. Only about 15 left oh god. I thought I could do it but it hurts really bad. There’s a stinging pain on my ankle every time I step. It’s bringing tears to my eyes. But I don’t want Chris to think that I’m weak and I can’t do it. But god does it hurt. It’s getting obvious that I can’t do it, I whimper in pain every time step, tears threatening to fall. I bring my hand up to wipe my eyes but I also stepped at the same time. I lose my balance and almost fall but Chris catches me. Oh fuck.

“Hey hey I got you, you’re ok” Chris picks me up bridal style and goes the rest of the way down to his room with me in his arms. My head resting on the crook of his next softly crying. I’m not even sure if it’s because of embarrassment or pain, maybe both.

He sets be down on the edge of the bed and kneels in front of me.

“What’s wrong baby, why’re you crying that pretty makeup away hm?” Chris sweetly asks, moving my hair out of my face.

“I just- I didn’t want you to think I was weak and couldn’t do it myself” I quietly replied with my voice cracking.

“Oh baby you’re not weak. You just have a literal broken ankle. Asking for help sometimes is never being weak ok? I will never ever judge you for anything especially not being able to go down the stairs with a broken ankle. I’m always here for you ma” Chris comforts me, rubbing my arms soothingly.

“Thank you Chris” I smile leaning it to hug him.

“I love you” He kisses my cheek, hugging me back.

“Who wants Canes!!” Matt yells from the top of the stairs.

“You gonna let me carry you now mama?” He laughs as he picks me up, my legs going around his waist carefully with my ankle.

“Took you guys long enough! I’m starving” Chris laughs.

✧˖°⋆⑅˚₊

[multi-stays]

The Years From 2-3

Paring: Transmasc!Minho X Male!Reader

Genre: Smut / 18+ MDNI

Summary: It’s your fourth anniversary from the day you married the love of your life Minho and something this big needs to be celebrated, right?

My Pookies: @dis-trict9 @lezleeferguson-120

Proofread: no

Warnings: Unprotected Sex, Fingering, Handjob, Breeding Kink, Swear Words, Belly Bulge, Mentions of Pregnancy/Alcohol

“Are you sure this is us?” Minho asked, walking up to a square table and sitting down when you opened his chair. Visible shock was on his face when he realized the reservation you had made weeks ago was to one of the most expensive restaurants in all Japan. “This is a night to be celebrated and nothing is too good for you,” you said grabbing his hand from across the table, and you were right. It was the fourth anniversary of marrying the man you've loved since you laid eyes on him in the crusty halls of your old high school. With your love for each other and now your daughter growing each day it only felt right to celebrate in luxury.

“So grateful that Han and Felix could watch her on such short notice,” Minho said taking a browse at the menu. “I have to admit it's funny when I ask cause Felix always gives me this look. And for good reason 'cause we do typically fuck.” Having such close friends that you could trust to watch your daughter was a lifesaver. After she was born alone time became slim to none. Up until she was almost two, only then did Minho feel comfortable leaving her with the Sunshine Boys as your daughter calls them.

“Han also said he was more than happy to watch her even if Felix wasn't available but luckily he was.”

“Han always gave me weird vibes, even when we were in school,” you said with your brow furrowed. Han was always a little too nice to your husband and never wanted to leave the two of you alone. You knew Minho would never, but Han was unpredictable and notably flirtatious with him. “Oh stop he's never done anything,” Minho said with a chuckle. “You're just paranoid.”

“He should be paranoid cause if he makes a move on you he's dead.” You were both joking and not joking. You only just got to fully be with and openly love Minho with the slight approval of his parents. No more sneaking around and no secrets, just love. So if anything was gonna stand in your way it wasn't gonna be a big-cheeked squirrel who had no right being that flirty.

You looked across the table at your sexy husband and simply smiled. The adoring look in your eyes caught Minho’s attention and his ears turned bright pink. You didn't know he had packed or even owned a dress like this. It was a corseted lace dress that made his tits poke out the top a little. The sleeves were a see-through mesh with flowers embroidered on them that matched the trim at the bottom. He did an extra sexy wing eyeliner that made his eyes look sharp and his lips looked like he had been eating raspberries all day.

You got so caught up gawking that you didn't notice the waiter standing beside you wanting your order. Only did you come out of your trance when Minho kicked you under the table with his chunky boot. The loud snap and dangle of the chains hooked to the side, hitting the leg of your chair startled you. When things came back into focus you took in the details of Minho’s annoyed face and hurriedly answered the waiter with an apology.

“Wow, way to mess that up,” he said sarcastically. “Am I not allowed to take in your beauty and admire my husband?”

“You can when someone isn't trying to get your attention and you embarrass me.”

“The only person who has my attention is you.” The comment obviously stirred him up cause he had his foot between your legs rubbing your thigh. You scooted back into your chair so you wouldn't get a hard-on and ruin the dinner you spent so long planning to be perfect.

~

Minho took the last swig of his wine and swung his bag around his body so he could get out his hand sanitizer. He sprayed a few puffs on his hands before asking, “Ready to go?” He batted his eyelashes and you agreed.

Dinner, music, and a short walk in the hotel's greenhouse. It was a perfect night and you didn't want it to end. “Fuck, I shouldn't have worn this dress.” “Why is that? You look perfect,” you said brushing a hand against his arm, then you knew exactly why. “I want to continue walking with you and enjoy the plants but I'm cold,” he said with a frown and a stomp of his big boot like a toddler.

“You are worse than our daughter,” you said taking off your jacket and putting it around his shoulders.

~

“You sure are a charmer aren't ya?” Minho said whilst taking off his jewelry and putting his purse with a cute black moon on it, on the stand beside him. The greenhouse was one of the main reasons you picked this specific hotel. Plants were always a passion for him and they had exotic plants that you couldn't see anywhere else. “I figured, go big or go home.”

Minho was sat at the vanity where he had all his perfumes, jewelry, and other small accessories lined up. When you finished taking off your watch you noticed it had gone quiet and Minho had stopped moving. Upon looking up at him you were met with his two big brown eyes staring at you from over his exposed shoulder.

“Could you help me with this?” The corset dress he was wearing was very complex and considering you had to tie him into it why wouldn't you help him out? You took the strings into your hands and got to work loosening them till he could slip his arms out comfortably.

You couldn't help the smirk that came across your face when you saw his. “I think I know a way we could end the night,” he said getting up from his chair and letting the dress fall off to the floor. There he stood fully naked in front of you.

He spat a strand of spit in his hand and went to his cunt. Rubbing his clit and spreading his lips so you could see the arousal that now ran down his legs. Your dick went hard and you found yourself sitting down at the edge of the bed. It wasn't ideal but you struggled to undo your belt with your eyes locked in on Minho’s wet pussy.

After having a baby together and getting married, you noticed Minho’s confidence during sex was boosted immensely. With a narrow in his eyes, he walked over and knelt in front of you. He gripped the buckle and pulled hard on the end till it was freed from the notch and slid open. The golden face that adorned your belt buckle was now imprinted into his palm. He licked a big stripe up it and swirled the spit around your tip.

With one hand on your dick, he stuck the other up his hole, pumping three fingers in to stretch himself out. His once neat curls which he spent hours making sure were perfect, now hung loosely in front of his face. His pace was fast and his movements were harsh, making the shaggy curls go back and forth in his eyes.

His hands were soft cause he used a lotion on them every day that smelled like lavender. When he stopped jerking your shaft to rub your tip you thought you'd let go and spill all over him. It’s happened before by accident. Minho gets too caught up in the moment, not paying attention just listening to his body, and you cummed all over his hand.

With that in mind, you gently placed your hands on his hips and pulled on him till he let go of your penis. His fingers were still stuffed up in his cunt when he was hovering over you. “I think I'd feel a lot better up in you, don't ya think?

Minho didn't even shake his head. His fingers were fucking his oozing vagina and his eyes were plastered shut when he threw his head back. The moans that came out of him cause he was so desperate were the cutest thing you've ever heard. His bottom lip was stuck in his bunny teeth and you downright needed to fuck him.

Grabbing ahold of your hard length, you pulled his hands away from his puss and quickly sat him down on your cock. He let out a sigh of relief as his walls fluttered around you, adjusting to your size before he started moving.

Being one of Japan’s best hotels it was also one of the quietest. Most of the people there were rich and wanted a getaway or just business. Then there were the two of you, him bouncing perfectly on your cock and you guiding him. Your large hands engulfed his dainty waist. The pure size difference between the two of you made you both more horny for each other. With each push you gave the small amount of skin roll he had on his hip turned white then pink from the pressure. He didn't struggle any so he simply glided up and down your shaft. When his ass hit your balls it was like a reward for him watching you receive the extra pleasure he was giving you. His hot slick rolled out of his puss like a fountain globbing all over your balls and dripping down on the bed.

How Minho managed to keep quiet during the highest point of pleasure and wasn't a whiney mess like usual boggled your mind. You looked down at where he was sliding on you and his pretty little clit covered with white, then up at his scrunchy face. He breathed slowly through his nose and gave it his all to pump your cock without making any noise.

“Fuck me, you feel so good,” he said finally with moan. His legs wobbled and his toes curled into the floor as he tried not to give way. You didn't want to take the reins from him but you could tell he was exhausted and ready. When he went down you pushed into his hips and held him there so you could stand. He wrapped his legs around you and kicked his feet happily.

When you stood up you got a good look at the mess you made beneath and dreaded the hotel staff seeing it the next morning. But that was tomorrow and of course, Minho didn't care. When you switched spots he spread his legs like always and ruffled his hair waiting for you to move.

“Ya know if we keep going like this we could be adding another member to the family.”

The idea of more beautiful children with him tickled the right parts of your brain and made you all the more horny but in a loving way. Minho put his hand on his lower belly when you started to fuck him so he could feel the stretch of your penis in his stomach. Belly bulges were always a thrill for him even when you were younger and the risk of getting pregnant was a lot more scary. His horny and lust for you triumphed over the risk which was so plainly visable when he would sneak you into his house.

“Baby fill me. Fill me, please.” His words were the extra push you needed to have your penis rammed up in him, balls to vagina. When your cum came out his eyes rolled to the back of his head and his hands were roaming for something to grab. His dark purple claws with black tips found their way to your shoulders, digging into you through your thin shirt as he orgasmed long and hard. You could tell it was treating him well by the way his hips were lifted off the bed and pushing into you.

Your seed filled him full and you could tell he was happy by his smiling face. “My bellies full,” he said patting his stomach as you pulled your penis out of his spasming hole. You went around the side of the bed and got under the covers. Minho pulled himself up to be beside you and snuggled in close. Skin-to-skin, gross, and still very much wet was your favorite kind of cuddling. “I hope we can have more kids honestly. Our daughter is the only other person I could love more than you. And that's only because I had to love you a whole lot, even when it wasn't easy, to get her.”

Minho simply nuzzled his head on your bare chest, exhausted and not comprehending what you were saying. His messy curls tickled your chin and his smudgy black makeup rubbed off some on your skin. The silence finally found the room again when you stopped talking and all that could be heard was your synced breathing. A slight dread came over you hoping you weren't too loud and could be heard by someone.

The whirring of the air-conditioning scared you when it kicked on but sleep was needed. Looking over at the clock it was almost 2AM and you had more things planned for tomorrow. You didn't want to cancel but if you woke up and Minho asked you to just stay, you would.

[mrsjellymunson]

⏱ Time Me ⏱

Written for the @steddiemicrofic December prompt ‘time’ | WC target: 485 | Rating: E 🔞 MDNI NSFW | CW: Smoking weed, allusions to other drugs, oral sex, a little bit of longing? | Tags: Pre-S4, enemies to enemies-with-benefits?

“Hey, King Steve. Watcha doin’?”

Eddie yells sarcastically towards the sports field on his way to his spot in the woods, watching Steve Harrington. He’s running up and down the worn-out track, checking his probably-much-fancier-than-Eddie’s digital watch every time he stops.

Steve punches a button and frowns, muttering a goddamnit before turning to face the least athletic-looking person he’s ever met.

“Just trying to improve my times, break my own record.”

Bitingly, he adds,

“Not that you’d know anything about self-improvement, freak.”

Eddie blows a derisory raspberry with his lips, lifts his arm and shakes his lunchbox.

“Well, if you’re interested I’ve got some things in here that might help.”

Steve responds,

“No thanks, I’m against artificial enhancement. And I don’t think a blunt’ll make me run any faster either. Most likely the opposite.”

Eddie retorts, sardonically,

“Maybe not, but I sure know a thing or two about post-game relaxation. You’ve gotta balance your training, Steve.”

He smirks, concluding,

“It might make you care a little less about your timings, too.”

Eddie cackles as he wanders off between the trees, leaving Steve to watch his retreating form with incredulity, and a little fascination, on his face.

That first time was coincidental. Steve, intrigued, followed Eddie into the woods, and they shared one of Eddie’s pre-rolls. Steve’s sprint times did indeed slip from his mind, and they talked and laughed more than either’d anticipated. Perhaps they’d leaned in and bumped shoulders a little too often. Perhaps Steve also spent a little too long staring at Eddie’s lips. Perhaps Eddie’d liked it a little too much…

Now, Steve finds out when Eddie’s going to be in his spot, and then takes some private track time exactly then. To work on his sprint, or whatever.

Moments after his battered lunchbox clatters against the old table, Eddie’s on his knees in the dirt, his own cock in his hand. Steve, with his head thrown back and arms spread across the edge of the tabletop, groans as his sweaty shorts are pulled aside and his long cock fills Eddie’s mouth and starts to nudge the back of his throat.

Eddie’s already taken it as a personal challenge to see how fast he can make Steve cum. Now he’s worked out what gets him going, it’s become surprisingly easy. Self-improvement, right?

But today, instead of a quick blowie in the woods, he wants Steve to stay a bit longer. Maybe agree to do this somewhere a little nicer, perhaps even somewhere indoors. He pulls off of Steve with a wet smack, continuing to fondle his balls and languidly stroke his own dick with his other hand.

Confused, Steve’s head drops forward, and their eyes connect. Smiling salaciously, Eddie murmurs,

“So, Stevie, right now I don't want you to finish in record time. How about we see if we can set another record? Today, I wanna see how long you can last…”

Thanks so much for reading!

You can find more Eddie and Steddie in my masterlist, and my general taglist is open, just ask 🖤

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