#'i had to cut expenses!' he says 'what could go wrong' he says

[hazbinfallinginaspiral]

Hey, sorry to trouble you. Unsure of your time zone so i hope this is sent at a good time! (Sorry if it isn't!)

Could you maybe do something with Vox and a Reader who saves him from a surprise attack via a Sinner or Angel?

Kinda the Reader just like 'Oh sorry i got blood on you. Glad you're okay.' With Vox unsure if he wants this person under contact or to kiss them. Or do whatever go nuts!

(I have no idea what timezone I’m in tbh, I’m too lazy to check. As I’m posting this it is 10:50 AM where I live, if that helps anyone. No worries, though! I love answering all your asks and writing out posts based on your requests!)

“Walking downtown, avoiding the paparazzi…” Vox muttered to himself. He’d really done it this time. He was trying to avoid being out of the Vee tower for too long, but he’d taken a detour with almost no Voxtek cameras. Now he couldn’t teleport. It made him uneasy. “God fucking damnit…”

“Stop right there, bitch,” a sinner demon said, pointing a gun at him. Vox froze, but not out of fear. He was surprised first, that a sinner demon would try to hurt an Overlord. This one must be new, or arrogant. But as he looked at the gun, he couldn’t help the tidal wave of emotions that over came him, all memories of compromising situations- similar situations- he’d been in when he was alive. “That’s right, now… put your hands where I can see them.”

Vox absentmindedly complied, still partially reliving every single time he’d had a gun pointed at him before. Every wound he’d received, every bullet he’d had to fish out of his own flesh.

“Good, now-”

The sinner demon was cut off brutally. With an axe. To its neck. Its head came off with ease and you stood behind it, looking surprised. Vox’s eyes widened. Now he was vaguely afraid.

“Oh. I didn’t expect it to be so… fragile,” you said, nudging the corpse of the demon lightly. “Huh. Well, in any case…” you looked up to Vox, an apologetic look on your face. “Sorry about that. Did I get any blood on your suit? I can cover the expenses.”

“I… uh,” Vox was speechless. He’d just frozen up in front of a lowlife sinner demon and had been saved by another, who was now apologizing to him. What the fuck. Something had to be wrong with him, especially with these weird feelings he had in his chest. Felt all fluttery and stupid like butterflies. “My suit is fine. I narrowly avoided the splash zone, I think. Thank you for your offer.”

“Of course! Not a problem,” you said with a smile. Vox noticed you hadn’t stepped any closer to him, you’d kept your distance. But you’d put your axe away. You knew who he was and how dangerous he was, how defenseless you were in comparison, but you were still talking to him. Did you feel superior to him just because you’d saved him? No, that couldn’t be it… you seemed so… genuine. “Seedy part of town for a business man like yourself to be in. I’m guessing the paparazzi were a nightmare today?”

“Oh absolutely,” Vox said with a grin. He was quickly regaining his confident demeanor. “It was absolute torture at that interview! Ah, but don’t tell anyone I said that. It wouldn’t be good for my image. I’m sure you can keep a secret,” he said, linking his arm in yours and walking with you. This was a test.

“Definitely,” you said, with a small laugh. “It’d be far more embarrassing for me, anyway. I mean, the fact I interrupted your walk through town? With murder, no less! That was quite rude of me.” You smiled, carefree and lighthearted as he walked you away. You didn’t even know where he was taking you, but you were still so upbeat. “No worries. If you don’t tell anyone about that little incident back there, I won’t say a word about your occasional distaste for public attention.”

“Wonderful! Sounds like a deal, then,” Vox said, looking down at you. He was pleased with how this whole thing had gone. You hadn’t even seen him as weak for freezing up in front of that other sinner demon! You probably thought he was annoyed or planning to kill the demon himself. His image was safe, you didn’t suspect a thing. You had no idea how vulnerable he’d been in the moment back there. “Say, how about we make another, more official deal? Something with some actual benefits.”

“Really?” You asked, looking surprised. “I mean, I don’t have much to offer. We only just met and-”

“And you’ve piqued my interest, dear,” he said with a smile. He held your arm tighter, more protectively. Whether you agreed to anything or not, he’d be keeping you around. “I have a feeling we’ll get to know each other very well.”

[yertle-the-turtle6678]

IM BACK AND I HAVE PERCIVER HEAD CANONS TO SHARE!!!

They meet in first year on the Hogwarts express. Percy's holding a giant book on third year divination. While this makes him a less attractive friend in the eyes of others', it's what brings Oliver Wood to the same train car as him. They introduce themselves and shake hands.

In second year, Oliver makes the Quidditch team as their keeper. Percy still spends the majority of his time indoors, but he goes to Ollie's practices and games every once in a while. After one specific game, Oliver comes back to the dorm with his breath cut short and with tears in his eyes. He stops breathing and the world goes spinning between each of his eyes; a panic attack, madame Pomphrey later describes it. The crowd triggered it.

Percy comforts him, sits on the same floor as him, rubbing the boy's back, repeating reassurance: "you're safe here,"

"You were good out there, really."

"I'll sit with you for as long as it takes."

Oliver comes to with his head on Percy's shoulder.

In third year, Percy goes to every practice and every game. He rubs Oliver's back when he returns to the dorm. When he loses for the first time, Percy has to chase him to stop him from running away, never to be found again.

"Hey, listen," Percy says, out of breath from the running. He doesn't understand how Oliver's barely breaking a sweat. "Tell me, okay? What went wrong out there?"

He gives Oliver a minute to pause and think.

Oliver gathers his thoughts and his breath. The sweat dripping down his neck fuels him, gives him energy. It clouds his head. He needs to calm down.

"I slipped on my broom." He says finally. "I wasn't planted on it properly."

"Good. What are you gonna do to fix it?" Percy replies, breathing better.

"I'll improve my grip."

"Good."

The two of them stand there, just breathing.

"Thanks."

In fourth year, they have the Yule Ball. Both of them are fifteen. Their year mates are out and about minging, asking each other out. The two of them stay where they are. They don't speak of the ball.

They go to the dance together, as friends of course. Percy keeps adjusting the collar to his hand-me-down dress robes. Oliver assures him that his attire is charming.

He sighs.

"If you had to wear these, I guarantee you'd understand me." Percy says. Over the summer his voice has changed. It's deeper and richer. Oliver loves it. Wishes he could taste it. Wishes these thoughts would go away. He grins and laughs Percy off.

When it's time to dance, they run away to a balcony that Percy didn't even know existed. They laugh and chat, making jokes at the dancers' expenses. Percy's had a bit to drink, (had he known the punch was alcoholic, he wouldn't have gone near it) and his face is flushed deep red.

"AND- and then when the-" he howls laughter. Oliver has to stop him from falling over himself.

Oliver thinks... He can't think at all. Suddenly. The two of them are so close together. He's got his arm around Percy's back and Percy's leaning against him, hands on Oliver's chest, still laughing. When he stops and catches his breath, though, the two of them seem to freeze. Oliver's heart skips a beat when he can physically feel Percy tensing up.

He kisses him.

Very awkwardly.

He made little action with his lips, just gently brushing his against the other boy's. The boy in question grins. Now it's Oliver's turn to flush deep red.

"ha-HA! No, wait, no, Oliver, wait."

Percy pulls Oliver back towards him by the arm. They're tangled with each other again, Oliver giving in to the urge to smile, just a bit, even after being embarrassed.

They kiss. Properly this time. It's the best thing Oliver's felt in his life. When they pull away, he whispers,

"Are you my boyfriend now?"

Percy smiles.

"Yes."

In fifth year, nightmares attack. O.W.Ls. Percy never sleeps anymore.

Oliver has to drag him away from his work table and force him onto his bed. When that bed later becomes repurposed for more studies, Oliver forces him onto his own bed. They sleep together and their dorm mates start getting suspicious.

Oliver sleeps in pajama bottoms and nothing else. Percy sleeps in a sweater and boxers. They spoon and Oliver rests his arm in front of Percy's only exit to stop him from crawling out of bed to study. Little does he know, Percy would never dare leave.

During the waking hours, Oliver drags Percy to other important places, such as breakfast, lunch, and dinner. The outdoors. Interaction with other human beings. It's a tough life out here for him.

When the exams finally start approaching, they do not stop making out. It's the only thing that gets Percy's mind off things. Only because there's nothing more distracting than Oliver's mouth.

To his own surprise and nobody else's, Percy passes his O.W.Ls with flying colours. Oliver passes alright despite not studying.

In sixth year it's the same for their N.E.W.Ts.

Something changes in the relationship between Percy and the rest of the student body, especially the girls. Oliver knows he's gotten taller. And his freckles have cleared enough for his gorgeous face to be visible. His voice is still as beautiful as it was in fourth year. He's started rolling up the sleeves of his sweaters, and the halls seem to swoon rapidly when they spot his forearms. Oliver always knew that Percy could have this power over people; he'd been subject to it himself. But it annoys him. And what's even worse is that Percy doesnt seem to notice when he's being flirted with.

He gets into the habit of writing on Oliver with pens, a strange Muggle device that's actually pretty nifty. Some mornings, Oliver wakes up with markings he doesn't even remember. Percy writes on his chest a lot. Draws on his collarbone. The most repeated word is Percy's name.

Oliver looks in the mirror one day, at his shirtless body.

PROPERTY OF PERCIVAL IGNATIUS WEASLEY

It says this all over his torso.

He grins. No one's stealing Percy from him anytime soon.

They pass their N.E.W.Ts.

The Summer Before Seventh Year

France is a gorgeous place, Oliver realises. Filled with gorgeous girls, too. He's lounging at the beach when one of them asks him out. He's put on the spot and exposed, wearing nothing but his swimming shorts and sunglasses. He fumbles over his words.

"Err, I mean, no..." The girl frowns. She has gorgeous eyes. "I mean, yes, sure. Is Friday at 7 PM okay with you?"

It doesn't even occur to him that she's a Muggle.

Immediately after he's uttered these words, he regrets it. But he can't stand her up. And she's already walking away. Merlin, Percy's gonna kill him.

It's just one date and Oliver doesn't even enjoy. They don't touch each other at all; they don't even hold hands. But Oliver knows what he's done, and he knows what he has to do.

He writes a letter.

I love you. I'm sorry. I couldn't live with myself if I kept it secret.

He sends it away with his black owl.

At the Burrow, Percy receives two letters back to back on his birthday. The first is from Hogwarts, confirmation that he's this year's Head Boy. He jumps around the kitchen, all dignity forgotten, and hugs his mother with an enormous grin on his face.

The second is from Oliver.

How quickly Percy's face turns sour. Mrs Weasley asks if he's okay.

Tears sting his eyes. Outside, he tells his mother everything.

One day before the start of the school year, the Weasley's are staying at the Leakey Cauldron overnight. Percy hears pebbles being thrown at his window and goes to see who it is.

Oliver Wood. Merlin.

Percy goes downstairs, striding towards his partner. Punches him in the face and immediately feels bad, but doesn't let that stop him. His voice is somewhere between a whisper and a yell and a sob,

"How could you?"

"I'm so sorry, Percy."

"Why did you do it?"

"We didn't do anything. Didn't touch her. I remember what you wrote on me."

Percy breathes in deep.

"I wasn't talking about just your body, Oliver. I was talking about you. All of you." He exhales, trying to hold himself together.

"I wouldn't think twice about rejecting some Muggle girl for you. You think I didn't notice when the whole female population at school suddenly wanted to date me? Just because of my body? I resisted them for you, Oliver. Because I love you. Why couldn't you do that for me?"

"I don't know. I'm so, so sorry."

They decide to take a break from their relationship. When they start attending school again, their dorm mates wonder why they've stopped sleeping together.

[rafecameroninterlude]

pairing: rafe cameron x fem!kook!reader

summary: sarah comes home early and finds you in rafe’s shirt

warnings: best friends brother, arguing, cursing, brief mention of addiction, suggestive ending ;)

word count: 1.5k

a/n: this takes place the day after this part, so i recommend reading that before. this is the last part so i just want to give a huge thanks to everyone who has shown so much love to this mini series of mine. i’ll be working on requests for the next couple of days but i already have something new that i’m cooking up for all of you 🎀 mini series masterlist can be found: here <3

lovely taglist: @maybankslover @missy06sworld @thewalkingdeadsmut @urfavnoirette @pradabambie

“hey, how do you want your eggs-” rafe was looking down at his phone when you walked into the room, his jaw tightening as he scrolled through something. “what’s wrong?” you sat next to him as he put his phone in your hands. “look at that shit. sarah has our summer allowance in the fucking negatives,” he was seething at this point. shaking his head, he yelled, ‘fuck!’, making you jump slightly. “i’m sorry,” rafe was quick to reassure you, “no, no, it’s okay. what should we do now?” you rubbed his arm, smiling at him so he knew you were alright.

“well, i’m gonna have to call my dad and let him know that we don’t have anymore money, and of course he’s gonna think it’s because of me.” rafe laughed bitterly. “why would he assume it’s your fault?” you glanced up at him, handing him back his phone. “because..” rafe spoke low, “i had a history of going to the cut and using his money for something else, and he hasn’t necessarily let that go.” he explained. you sighed, thinking for a moment. “look at the recent charges, what do they say?” rafe clicked on the account, his eyebrows knitting in confusion.

“what the fuck. there’s nothing but a whole bunch of atm withdrawals.” both of you looked at each other, “i don’t know how she’s withdrawing money without a card.” he looked around his room for a second, before jumping up and making his way downstairs. “what is it?” you followed him. rafe stayed quiet while he rummaged through his wallet, throwing it across the living room. “the fucking card is gone! she must’ve got it when we snuck upstairs yesterday.” you sighed, “that’s why she was in a rush to leave.” rafe paced back and forth, his head in his hands as he cursed to himself.

“i swear, when i see her-” as if on cue, the front door opened, the woman of the morning strolling in like nothing. “woah, y’all are up early..” sarah smiled, looking between you two before her eyes fell to your outfit.. or lack thereof. “is that rafe’s shirt?” her face morphed into one of suspicion. before you could answer her, rafe cut in. “yeah, it is. do you want to explain to me why the fuck our account is drained?” sarah kept her eyes on you, not acknowledging rafe in the slightest. “why are you wearing his shirt.. and what is that?” she looked past rafe towards the kitchen where you were making breakfast.

“i don’t believe this shit,” she scoffed, pushing rafe out of the way, “my brother, y/n, really?” she laughed. you felt your heart plummet, rafe stepping in once again. “you don’t have any right to tell her shit, you haven’t been very honest either.” rafe unlocked his phone, showing her the negative amount. “what the fuck are you up to? all these atm withdrawals, what are you even taking money out for?” now it was sarah’s turn for all the blood to drain from her face. “it’s none of your business,” she spat, “and you,” sarah walked around rafe, sizing you up as if she was going to do something.

“so, what, i don’t tell you about every little thing going on in my life, and you fuck my brother to spite me for it? that’s low..” she shook her head. you felt all your anger rising to the surface. “i don’t want to know every little detail of your life, just don’t be a selfish bitch and use me at your expense for your little adventures on the cut. lying to your dad so he won’t find out that you’ve been hanging out with pogues, and using your shared account to drain money from is even lower.” sarah stayed quiet, the expression on her face unreadable. “you’re the fakest friend there is.” she adjusted the backpack on her shoulder.

“if i’m the ‘fakest friend’ then what does that make you? you cancelled plans with me last minute, used me to cover for you multiple times, you even ditched our birthday tradition this year. not to mention the fact that you said i was ‘worse than topper’ because i asked you a valid question. i hadn’t seen you for three weeks before yesterday and you got mad because i asked if you were staying on the cut. you do realize that we haven’t been apart for longer than three days since we were five, right?” you were rambling at this point, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

“all i wanted was honesty, sarah. and yes, i fucked your brother, but not to spite you. not saying that, that excuses what i did, but i did that because he’s actually more amazing than you give him credit for. has it occured to you that while you’ve been running around the other side of the island he could’ve locked you out of the account and let you be out with no money in your pocket?” sarah ran her fingers through her hair, taking a seat at the kitchen island. “you don’t know him, y/n. the real him.” she looked over at rafe, her lips curling in disgust.

“you’re wrong and you know it,” sarah shot daggers at him. “fucking my best friend is crazy rafe, even for you. wait till i tell dad about this.” she smiled, taunting the both of you as you stood next to each other. “are you stupid? dad already loves y/n, and once i tell him that you put our account in the negatives because you’re withdrawing from atm’s on the other side of the island, you’ll see what he’s more concerned about. me being with y/n, or you giving up money to the pogues for whatever fucking reason.” rafe pulled you close to him, his hand resting on the small of your back.

“you really think he’ll believe you over me? especially with that little coke problem you had? good luck with that.” sarah opened her backpack, placing the card on the table. you couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth. you knew rafe had a substance issue in the past, you were around when he was getting help for that, and nothing about it was pretty. “how dare you?” you narrowed your eyes in her direction. “you’re not anyone to throw that in his face. you’re a cheater and a thief, but no one has told you that yet, right? your dad will believe rafe, because i have pictures on my phone of us that match up with the timing of those atm transactions. me and you aren’t friends anymore sarah.” you watched as she got up, making her way over to the front door.

just as you thought she was going to leave, she turned around, this time with tears in her eyes. “i don’t care, y/n, but you have to be the dumbest girl on earth if you think this weird thing y’all got will last. you’re nothing but another hook up to him. do you really think you’re the first girl to make breakfast for him?” she laughed, wiping at her damp cheeks. “don’t ever talk to me again.” she slammed the door, leaving you and rafe in silence. “don’t believe her, she just wants to make you feel bad.” he took your hand, placing a soft kiss on your knuckles. you nodded, the reality of what you did now setting in. you just unfriended sarah, and you didn’t feel bad about it.

“i’m sorry she brought up your past and used it against you.” you pulled him towards the couch as he rubbed circles into your palm. “she does that every time we get in an argument. it doesn’t phase me anymore.” he rolled his eyes. “will you really do that for me? vouch for me.” you nodded at his words. “of course i will, but i think i know a way where you don’t have to call your dad.” you took his phone. “call the bank and tell them the atm withdrawals weren’t yours and they’ll see it as suspicious activity on the card. they should refund you all the money back if you report the card missing.” rafe looked at you like you hung up the sun just for him.

“you’re the smartest girl i know.” he got up, walking to the next room to make the phone call. while he was doing that, you decided to finish up breakfast, surprised that you didn’t burn anything. quickly putting everything on a plate for him, you were pouring yourself a drink when he walked back into the kitchen. “they put all the money back on the card, we should be good now.” he walked past the plate, wrapping his arms around your waist. “that’s good,” you smiled, feeling his lips on your neck.

“you know, as much as this looks delicious, i prefer my breakfast in bed.” he picked you up, your laughs echoing throughout the house as he took you up to his room.

[cal-flakes]

sorry for spamming your acc i’ve js been obsessed with your fics!! i was thinking like reader only just getting used to Rafe spoiling her and then overhearing people call her like a gold digger and going back to not wanting him to spend as much as a cent on her and crying that people think of her that way and him comforting her and assuring her he WANTS to spend his money on her and takes her on a shopping spree the next day or something? idek, ignore this if you don’t like it ❤️

╰┈➤ spoil you

warnings: cursing, threats (sort of)

┏━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┓

hot tears trickled down her flushed face as her hands struggled, furiously shoving the lavish materials back into their rightful bags. ‘she’s just using him’ — the words cut and nipped at her as they did laps in her mind, spitefully. she couldn’t see the jealousy in those same words through teary eyes, she almost believed them. what am i doing? she thought.

exhaling deeply, she sat back against her bed, her fingers threading through the plush carpet as her eyes scanned the shopping bags before her. dollars upon dollars lay before her, scattered around her bedroom, hidden by the paper wearing all of the expensive names. dior, chanel, versace and so on. her hands moved to squeeze and pinch at her own skin, desperately wishing to be out of it. she felt disgusting, how could she let such a sweet boy do this for her? how could such a shallow girl wear such materials?

her racing thoughts were quickly distracted by the heavy footsteps on the stairs, coming to a stop outside her bedroom door.

“y/n? baby? you ready to go?” the voice asked so calmly, blissfully unaware of the mess on the other side. through sniffles, y/n quickly wiped away the remaining tears. “i—um, i don’t think i want to go..” she muttered, just loud enough for a frown to pull at his features.

he tilted his head, unbeknownst to her as he moved to the handle, working quickly to shove the door open. rafe’s mouth fell agape as he rushed towards her frame, curled up on the floor, tear marks painting the beautiful dress he’d requested she wore to their date that day.

“sweetheart, what’s wrong? did someone upset you?” he cooed, yet the gruff, threatening undertone didn’t go unnoticed. shaking her head, she relaxed into his touch as he slotted himself next to her, pulling her head into his sweater clad chest. “then why are you crying baby?”

catching her breath, her eyes moved to the floor, unwilling to meet his eyes as if she’d burst into tears once again. “do you— do you think i’m using you?” y/n whimpered, blinking away any tears threatening to spill. rafe’s eyebrows knit together as he craned his neck to look down at her, all sorts of questions filling his mind.

“my sweet girl— what are you talking about? ‘course i don’t” he soothed, reaching a steady hand to cup her cheek. “why would you say that?”

—

after a good, long hour of more tears and an abundance of reassurance, rafe had finally managed to calm the flow of tears seeping through his sweater, through the art of forehead kisses and soft words.

“baby, what have i told you about listening to such spiteful words? huh? you are in no way a brat, or using me, or shallow, m’kay?” he sighed, pulling his lips into a thin line. “i buy you these things—“ gesturing to the mountains of bags and teddy bears, “because i want the absolute best for you, i want you to feel good, i want you to feel so unbelievably adored you don’t know what to do with yourself, alright?”

“but— but i can’t do the same for you rafey, i want to, i want to buy you things too! but i can’t..” she frowned, her bottom lip wobbling as she spoke. “you do enough y/n, you don’t need to buy me things, the feeling of you lying on me at night is enough, the smile on your face when i walk through that door— is more than enough”

sighing contently, y/n nodded as she melted further into him— if that was possible.

“you gonna cheer up now? let me take you out?” he chuckled, twirling a slender hand around a couple strands of her now tangled hair. “mhm”

—

“wait! your walking too fast rafe!” y/n pouted, drawing a hearty chuckle from him as he came to an exaggerated halt. holding out his arm for her, he waited as she skipped along the concrete, giggling profusely as she quickly linked her arm with his. “where to first?” he asked, the infamous smirk once again plastered on his face.

y/n’s face scrunched as she thought hard about this question, her hand— which was tightly wrapped around his forearm, coming to her attention. “well, i do need my nails repainted, they’re so grown out now!” she chirped, beaming up at him hopefully.

chuckling, he pressed a quick kiss to her cheek before leading her through the streets. “little brat..” he muttered, just loud enough for her to hear. “hey!” she yelped, swatting his chest. “that’s not funny!”

“only teasing sweetheart, what colour were you thinkin’?”

┗━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┛

[mssainz]

PART 4 | AFTER FIVE YEARS

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x Reader

Summary: Carlos Sainz finally met his son he had with her ex-wife, Y/N.

Warning: Angsty

AN: A little backstory about YN , a flashback from five years ago. Thank you guys. I appreciate all your comments. Let me know your reaction and if you wanna be added to the tag list. Love y'all!

It's done. You are now divorced. You are no longer Mrs. Sainz. You are sitting on the bed feeling empty, looking at the bedroom floor.

So what now?

You grabbed your phone on your side table and dialed your Mom's number. It took a few rings before your Mom picked it up.

“Mom, I'm going home.” Your mom didn’t say anything and hope you have a safe flight.

You didn’t wait for a second and immediately grabbed your luggage. You gently fold all your clothes and stuff them into your bag. You then went to the bathroom to grab your skin care products and other toiletries. After making sure that all your things are complete, you zipped and sealed your luggages. You saw the gold commitment in your ring finger and a shiny diamond one you got when you said yes.

“You two are way more expensive than filing a divorce,” You whispered and scoffed at yourself. You removed your necklace, then your rings, and made them as a pedant.

“Maybe, I can take you to an auction. Engagement and wedding ring from Carlos Sainz.” You let out a painful laugh before putting the necklace in your bag. Your finger feels strange without them, after wearing them for almost three years.

You put on the most casual outfit you can grab, a black trousers, white shirt, and a black cap. You also put on a face mask to hide your face. You don’t want any paparazzi following you at the airport. You just want to leave in peace and make a simple statement of your break up. Being questioned about what happened and explaining everything is the least thing that you wanna do. It feels like squeezing lime on your opened cut.

You arrived at the airport earlier than your scheduled flight. Gladly, there are only a few people in the vicinity. You sat down in the waiting area and unlocked your phone. You deleted Carlos' phone number and even blocked him in all of your social media accounts. Painful for you but you also deleted any contacts of his family, his father, mother, and even his siblings. You also unfollowed anything related to Formula 1. But you didn’t unfollow some of the drivers that you are close with.

After almost a day flight, you finally arrived. It feels great to be back in your home country. Your mom fetched you at the airport. She initiated some small talks on your way home but didn’t dare to mention anything about your divorce. She wants you, yourself to open up about it if you are comfortable to talk about the whole situation.

You proceed to your old room after getting out of the car. You and your mom brought your luggages in your room and began unpacking them. You opened your closet and saw your white coat hanging. It has your name with MD on it. “Emergency Medicine,” you whispered as you read what's on your coat. Warm tears started falling from your eyes.

“What did I do wrong, Mom? I gave up my career for him. I let this go to be with him. I chose another path of my life and tried to settle down, followed him to the other side of the world. How could he do this to me?” Your mom looked at you and stopped unpacking your bags. She is disheartened, staring at you sitting on the floor, hugging your knees. It is her first time seeing you cry and break down after everything that happened. She is actually worried about you as you didn’t show any tears when Carlos filed the divorcement papers, when you found out about your baby, and after everything. It’s like your emotions shut down. You were just filled with mixed feelings and couldn’t even process it as everything happened so fast.

She walks towards you and sits beside you. She didn't say anything, she knows that words are not what you need right now. You need ears, who can listen to you.

“I hate myself, Mom. I let myself be fooled by a man and I'm now fucking pregnant with his child. He doesn't even know, I'm having his own blood and genes. And I don't even know where to start with my life again. I have nothing left, Mom. I am such a mess,”

She can feel how broken you are. She hates seeing you cry and hate yourself for something you are not the one to blame.

“I sold all my properties in Madrid, even the coffee shop Mom. I can't go back there. I can't be in his hometown. I can't even bear the thought of breathing the same air he breathes. I can't Mom, I don't wanna.” Your voice is broken and so you are. Your words are nearly inaudible and your face is filled with glistening tears which can't seem to stop pouring. Your sorrow left you having difficulty catching your breath.

“He knows how cheating and lying was my last straw. He always knew that. He knows about Dad, what he did and how he left us, Mom. Why did he have to repeat the same history as he did? Why do I have to go through this again? Why do I keep catching men in my life kissing another woman? How can they put me in this position?” You are on the verge of hyperventilating from crying. Hence, your mom gently held your arms and made you face her eyes.

“Baby, look at me. Breathe, my love,” She started exhaling and inhaling with you to calm your nerves down and control the pace of your breathing.

“Mom, I don't know what to do. What should I do?” You asked her while she was wiping the tears on your cheeks.

“You don't have to do anything, my love. You don't need to know what you should do at the very moment. I just want you to take care of yourself. Just have a meal, take a shower, and rest. Mommy got you, okay? I always do.”

She pulled you into her arms to give you a safe space to cry. Her words gave you an inner peace, a reminder to take it slow. You don't need to know what the future holds for now.

“And stop saying you have nothing left. You have me, honey. You have this,” your mom said before putting her warm hand on your belly.

I have Cael. When I thought I had nothing left, I had him. He is the only one I can call my own.

YN'S Private Instagram Post

"my sunshine Sebastian Cael Sainz"

TAGLIST:

@seasonswinter @charizznorizz @itsjustkhaos @celesteablack @openthenyoor01 @carlossainzbelongswithme @timmychalametsstuff @viennakarma @charlottef1 @i-love-ptv @evie-119 @somepeoplemaybe @amberpanda99 @gotthatname @karlossainz @wonderfulkawaii @khaylin27 @hc-dutch @avengers-assemble123456 @likedbygaslyy @xoscar03 @yukiotadako @barcelonaloverf1life @bearryyy @mahii7 @mxdi0 @heyheyheyggg @sunny44 @casperlikej @ironmaiden1313 @biitch-with-wifi @elia-the-bibliophile @nataliazzzz @bernelflo @madkohi @lillunna @loloekie @jinimon-tr @glai1023-blog @not-nyasa @jolixtreesunn @changetyre @thatsusbitch @distancedss @miarabanana @iawfwm @f1fanatic55 @taniamndez @voidsfics @jasminesacademia @ahahvalerie @a-beaverhausen @glow-ish @ccallistata

AN: Should YN put the necklace in an auction? Just kidding. Please unhide your accounts guys, I can't tag you if its hidden huhu. Thank youuuu!

next part

[milswrites]

The Trials of Aphrodite Part Four

~ Azriel X Fem!Reader

Series Masterlist

Series summary: Hopelessly in love with Elain, Azriel enlists your help in order to win her over. The only problem? You have been in love with Azriel for as long as you have known him.

Chapter summary: A chat with Rhysand and an unexpected encounter.

Warnings: Angst (not going to give it a level because you guys will come for me and say I'm wrong).

You should have known nothing would get past Rhysand.

Your High Lord had been alive for long enough to know when someone was sneaking around behind his back, even if it was the elusive shadowsinger.

So despite the fact the sudden appearance of the Lord of Night at your door had your palms sweating and heart beating in distress, his arrival wasn't entirely unexpected.

With a long exhale and a quick tap to your mental shields in order to make sure they're in place, you open the door, a synthetic smile working its way onto your face as you greeted your waiting friend.

"Rhys, how wonderful to see you!" you simpered, praying the male wouldn't be able to hear the irregular pounding of your fluctuating heartbeat. Rhysand provided you with his own sickly sweet smile in return, violet eyes twinkling knowingly as he began to speak, "Azriel -"

You didn't allow him the time to finish his sentence, interrupting the Lord in an attempt to draw the conversation away from your rule breaking best friend, "Az isn't here unfortunately, maybe you should try -"

It was Rhysand's turn to cut you off, the male casually raising an inquisitive brow as he did so, smirk only growing wider at your flustered manner, "The market?. . . With Elain?" you blanched at his words, "hmm quite unusual how he seems to be able to talk to her now, isn't it? You wouldn't happen to know anything about that?"

"Awh Rhys I'm hurt," you pout mockingly, holding a hand to your heart as you step aside to allow the male to enter, "Here I thought you came to see me, and yet all you want to talk about is Azriel's lousy ability to talk to females."

Rhys scoffed at your reply as you busied yourself with making tea, avoiding his pressing stare for as long as you could until your reluctant eyes finally met his own. Sighing at his persistent glare, you held your hands up in defeat, "Fine, I helped him! He practically forced my hand, what was I supposed to do?"

"He made you?" Rhysand asked unimpressed, your eyes already rolling at the lecture which was no doubt about to ensue. Yet his next words were enough for you to spit out the tea you had just consumed, "Or your feelings did?"

"This has nothing to do with that" you snapped in defense, body recoiling at Rhysand's sympathetic stare, "Az needed me Rhys, of course I had to help him."

Your friend stretched his arm across the counter, resting a heavy hand onto your own to stop the slight tremble which his words had triggered. "At the expense of your heart?" Rhysand questions, his face contorted in empathetic pain, "You don't have to do this Flower. You are your own person, there's no shame in saying no to him."

Your eyes began to water as you stared at Rhys's comforting hand, head shaking hopelessly in denial. "What kind of friend would I be?" you miserably ask, "If I can't overlook my childish feelings in order to make him happy."

"It's not your job to make him happy," Rhysand reasons, gently squeezing your hand in order to pull your saddened gaze to his own, "you being there is enough to do that."

"But I am not enough" you shout, Rhysand's arm retracting in surprise at your sudden burst of anger, "I will never be enough for him. I have offered him everything; my friendship, my happiness, my heart. And what do I have to show for it after five hundred years other than his unreciprocated feelings?"

Rhysand came to stand before you, pulling you into a crushing embrace, lips coming to your ear to whisper words of consolation as you cried into his chest. "It's ok" he promised, cupping your head to press you tighter still into his hold, "You're ok. Feelings pass, it just takes time."

"It's not just feelings Rhys" you wept into his shirt, thanking the cauldron that your tears didn't show on the dark material, "I love him."

"So why?" Rhysand asked, moving his hands to your face in order to wipe your tears and draw your eyes to his own begging ones, "Why are you doing this? Why help him?"

"Because I'm tired of loving" you confessed, hiccupping as you spoke, "I want to move on. And if moving on means I have to help him fall in love with somebody else . . ."

Your friend sighed in defeat, a wave of disgruntled understanding beginning to pool in his violet eyes. "You are so unbelievably selfless" Rhys said with a sad smile as he came to place a soft kiss against your brow.

"Are you mad at me? . . . For helping Azriel go against your orders?" you sniffled, voice wavering as you spoke. Salty tears still making their way down your cheeks. "I could never be mad at you Flower" Rhysand consoled, "I'm only disappointed that Azriel would bring you into this mess in the first place. You deserve so much more."

So you continued to cry.

And whilst you were wrapped within the loving arms of the Lord of Night, you could have sworn you had never felt more alone.

Leaving your house was a trial in itself nowadays. Having to force yourself to vacate the sanctuary of your home in order to stir some feelings inside of you that weren't just hopeless despair.

Yet you were unable to shake your loneliness as you walked through the streets of Velaris without the shadowsinger by your side. Azriel having regretfully told you that he had training to make up for with Cassian after having spent the morning alongside Elain.

So, aimlessly wandering around in a melancholic state, you opted to grab yourself a treat in the hope of lightening your mood. For that there was only one place to go, the charming little bakery which you and Azriel had discovered together many years ago.

It was a difficult decision, choosing what pastry to buy, your hungry eyes scouring over the selection until you saw something you liked. The smiling shopkeeper making polite conversation as you pondered your options. Her words bringing your thoughts back to the male you so longed to forget, "now where's that handsome friend of yours today?"

Your heart twinged at the mention of his name, smile dropping slightly as you focused your attention back onto the baked goods before you, "Oh you know, the life of the shadowsinger is a busy one."

The keeper nodded in understanding, wide grin still plastered across her lips as she spoke, "would you like to grab something for him too? On the house for such loyal customers."

You wanted to say no, to prove that Rhysand's words were true and show yourself that your life didn't revolve around Azriel. Yet the flash of his grateful smile appeared in your mind, the warm buttery feeling of the male hugging you in thanks already growing in your chest.

Yet before you even had the chance to answer the waiting lady, a hurried figure bumped into your side, spilling the contents of their steaming cup onto your shirt.

"Oh shit, I'm so sorry! Are you alright?" flustered apologies flowed from the male's mouth, his hands flying to rub the newly formed coffee stain with a napkin.

You found yourself incapable of answering.

Unsure of whether it was the shock that had stunned you into silence, or the dark ruffled hair and deep hazel eyes of the mysterious stranger. Unfussed by your lack of response, the male continued to ramble, "gods I'm so stupid, I should have watched where I was going. I'll buy you a new top I promise."

Stirring to your senses, you grabbed the male's hands to stop his hastily-done cleaning, allowing a reassuring smile to grace your lips as you promised him it was alright, "Don't worry, I was wondering what this top would look like with coffee all over it."

He barked out a laugh, lifting a hand to muss his short black hair, "I suppose I can only be grateful for running into someone as wonderfully forgiving as you."

It were as if he had you under a spell, his sharp jaw and strong features working to draw you in. "If you wanted my attention you could have just asked me for it" your jaw snapped together as soon as the words slipped out, eyes going wide at your unabashed confidence.

Your words seeming to please the male, a smirk crossing his face as he leaned into reply, "Can you blame me? Getting the chance to run into the most beautiful woman in all of Prythian doesn't come too often."

Unable to stop the blush which flushed across your heated cheeks, your eyes looked to anywhere but his own hazel ones in an attempt to escape the intensity of his gaze.

"I'll tell you what," the handsome stranger started, gesturing his head towards the counter, "I think I owe you a drink after that accident, if you want to join me that is."

All thoughts of getting something for Azriel forgotten, a smirk of your own worked its way onto your face as you reply, "hmm, I'm not sure. I only drink coffee with males I know the name of."

"Deimos" he eagerly replied, the glint of an unknown emotion shimmering within his hazel eyes, "My name is Deimos."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Notes: I would apologise for the lack of Azriel in this part but honestly I think you guys would thank me for it at this point!

Big thank you to @sarawritestories who waved her magic wand and made me love my writing again.

Taglist Part 1:

@a-cup-of-nightshade @yearninglustfully @illyrianbitch @ninaduchess @sarawritestories @annaaaaa88 @antiquecultist @madelyncullen @erencvlt @chaytea06 @dxjaaaa @saltedcoffeescotch @spark1epuffba11s @thestartitaness @amysangel @historygeekqueen @thelov3lybookworm @aaronwarnerobsessedmylove @willowpains @thebeautifulmysteriesoflife @dreamlandreader @sidthedollface2 @leeknows-wife @riorgail @eve175 @evergreenlark @anuttellaa @daily-dose-of-sass @jesus-is-me @tothestarsandwhateverend

[houseofanticipation]

It's impossible to count the number of times you've imagined this moment. Late at night, under the covers; in the bathtub, and the shower; on slow days at the bookstore, the summer before senior year; during Mr. Madrigal's long, droning lectures. You fantasized so vividly you could see each scene on the back of your eyelids, hear each sound between breaths. Many a time your hand migrated southward, almost of its own volition. If you were in public, you'd hold it against your crotch, pressing it into yourself with the force of your clenched thighs. In private, you'd be far less subtle.

In all those fantasies, you never imagined it would look quite like this.

The hallway smells like cigarettes and industrial cleaner. The haphazardly patterned carpet is coming up at the edges. The yellow tube light overhead might be attempting morse code, the way it flickers. Paint peels from the door in front of you, and one of the metal digits in the room number has been replaced with one that doesn't quite match: room 233. You raise your hand, your knuckles inches from the door, and then you pause. You're not sure if you can go through with this.

Before you can decide, the door opens anyway.

You started posting pictures in your first year of college. It was just your tits at first. You'd been quietly following those subreddits and tumblr blogs for a while, and you thought it would be a bit of fun, a little thrill. You didn't expect the response you got: dozens of people telling you how much they'd enjoyed it, asking for more. So you posted more, and the people asked for different things. Post your ass. Post your cunt. Post your fingers in your cunt. Post audio of you moaning as you came. The more you revealed of yourself, the more attention you got, and the more attention you got, the more you wanted to show. People wanted to send you tips, so you set up a Cash App address. You never got much, a few dollars here and there, but it was nice to get a free coffee now and then.

And somewhere along the way, apparently, you let slip that you were a virgin.

The message came late last semester, from a Cash App user whose name was just a string of numbers. It read, "I will buy your virginity for $100,000. So you know I'm serious, here is $7000 for you to keep, deal or no deal. Let me know if interested."

It was like one of those hypotheticals you talk about with your friends at the dinner table. Would you work nonstop for a year if it meant you never had to work again? Would you cut off your hand if it meant you never had to die? Would you let a stranger from the internet take your virginity for a hundred thousand dollars? You thought about it for weeks. The 7 thousand in itself was a windfall you never could have imagined. It was the new laptop you needed, four times over. It was a large iced coffee ever day for three and a half years. After graduation, if you were smart, it could be your living expenses for the better part of a year. But a hundred thousand might be a house, or a car, or a few years of freedom to pursue your goals. And when you asked how you could trust him to pay when he'd gotten what he wanted, he told you he'd be happy to pay up front.

So here you are, in a dingy hotel, face to face with the broad-shouldered, potbellied older man in front of you. "I saw you through the peephole," he says. There's something impish about him. Maybe it's the toothy grin, or the way his ears stick out from his head, or the obvious glee in his voice as he looks you up and down. "My, you're much better in person. Come in! You got the money then?"

You nod. You didn't leave the Lyft until it was there in your account.

"Good," he says, throwing the dead bolt. "Let's get to it then, shall we?"

"What should...I mean, how do you want to..." you feel yourself talking strangely. Breathing in the wrong places, words tumbling over each other. "Maybe we should...talk first? Get to know each other?"

"No need for that," says the man matter-of-factly, unbuttoning his shirt. His chest is smooth, his skin a mottled pink. He waves a hand at your body. "Go ahead and get those off."

Back in high school, one of your recurring fantasies involved Jason Meier having his way with you in the back of that beat up convertible he used to drive. That old thing used to get you so wet. It was a piece of junk, but something about the exposure of it...In the fantasy, he's driven you out to some secluded spot outside of town. Cicadas drone all around. The night sky shines bright with stars. He cups your face with one hand, strokes your cheek with his thumb, asks you if this is your first time. He kisses the side of your mouth, then your jaw, then below your ear, then down your neck. As his hands undo the top button of your blouse, he tells you he'll be gentle.

The man is watching you expectantly. With his shirt on, he looked like a portly old man. Without it you can see that every inch of that stocky build is hard muscle. That pink skin strains against his mass, muscle rippling beneath it as he moves. "What are you waiting for?"

Your legs tremble. Your knees feel like they're about to buckle. You can hear your heart pounding in your ears. Your body has never done this before. You didn't know you could feel this kind of fear, and yet there's nothing to fight, nowhere to flee. You agreed to this. You decided this was what you wanted. Slowly, you pull your shirt over head.

He groans in the back of his throat, a long, growly sound. His face is a mask of focus, the impish joviality gone, his eyes fixated on your breasts. "And the rest."

You kick off your shoes, pull off your socks. An inch at a time, you slide your shorts and panties over your ass, down your legs, past your trembling knees. You step out of them, and now you're completely exposed. You cross your arms over your chest, then lower them when he grunts disapproval. Almost urgently, he unbuttons his pants, pulls out a long, rigid cock, and begins to stroke himself.

You didn't discover internet porn until your senior year, and before then the only penises you'd seen were a few drawings in your health textbook. In the fantasy, you unbutton Jason Meier's pants and fig. 7.5, "The penis becomes engorged when in state of arousal," pops out of his underwear. You take it in your hands, feeling the weight of it, the girth, and look up into those beautiful brown eyes of his.

This cock is much...realer. It has bounce, texture, even a sound as his hand slides up and down its length. It's longer than the one in that old fantasy, too, and it leans slightly to the left. For years you've wondered what it would be like to see a cock in person, and now that you're here it terrifies you.

"Come here," says the man, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Get on your knees."

You falter. "You didn't...I mean, we didn't agree to that."

"I bought your virginity," says the man. "You ever suck cock before?"

You shake your head.

"Then your mouth is just as much a virgin as your cunt. Get down here."

It's almost a relief to get off your legs, the way they've been threatening to give out. Close up, you can see the purples and blues of the veins under his skin. The head of his cock pulses with anticipation as your lips part, your tongue extends...

You don't think you can do this.

Then his hand is on the back of your head.

You always imagined Jason Meier whimpering as you took him into your mouth. You were never quite able to picture what he would feel like between your lips, on your tongue; the movie camera of your imagination always panned up at that point, to focus on his face. He would let his head fall back in pleasure, eyebrows knit with sensation, lips slightly parted. Now, though, there's no camera to pan. You are here. This is real. And his powerful hand is pushing your mouth onto his cock.

A sound you can't control comes out of you. Your back arches, your hands flail, and then by pure instinct they're on his belly, pushing against him, away from him. Spit runs down your chin, and you wipe it away with the back of your hand. "I'm sorry," you say, looking anywhere but at his face. "I'm sorry, I can't, I thought I could do this but I can't."

There's a horrible darkness in his voice. "I already gave you the money."

"I know, I'll give it back, I'm sorry." The words trip over each other on the way out of your mouth. "I'm really sorry, I shouldn't have, I just, I thought I could..."

His hand is on the back of your head again, and this time his fingers are curled tight into your hair. He jerks your head back, forcing you to look at him, and his eyes are cold and predatory. "I'm not interested in returning what's already bought and paid for." He jams himself back into your mouth.

You always imagined yourself savoring it, taking your time to explore every inch of Jason's length with your tongue, but there's no time for that now. The veiny, throbbing thing in your mouth bypasses your tongue entirely, forcing past your uvula. You gag, then gag again. Your stomach churns and you convulse as your body tries to remove the foreign object, but the man just pushes harder. Your eyes water as he slides deeper, deeper, making your throat bulge, your limbs spasm. As his balls touch your chin, you close your eyes and try to relax your throat.

He holds you like that. You gag for a third time, and thick saliva explodes through the gaps around his cock, dripping down your chin and collecting in a long, dangling rope. Tears roll down your cheeks as you try to acclimatize to the feeling, try to convince your body that nothing is wrong. You think you've got it, and then he moves slightly, and you're gagging again. He groans, grips your head tighter, and in the back of your throat you feel his cock swell slightly. He likes it when you gag for him, says a voice in the back of your mind. The motion is pleasurable for him.

You've got another problem rearing its head. You can't breathe. It was fine at first, but the man shows no interest in freeing up your airways, and in all the gagging and crying, you haven't exactly been conserving your oxygen. You pat his leg, trying to signal to him, but all he does is clap you on the side of the head. Your ear rings, you gag again, and his cock throbs. Black walls are closing in on your vision. The effort of struggling against him becomes too much, and your arms fall to your sides. Your eyelids flutter. You're going to pass out. You're going to pass out, and then what will he do to you?

But just before the world fades to black, he pulls your head back again. You feel every inch of his cock as it slides out of your throat. He lifts your face, and your eyes struggle to focus on his as you take lungful after lungful of glorious air. Drool spills across your lips, but you don't care. You're alive.

The man slaps you hard, leaving a stinging impression of his palm on your cheek. You whimper. Two of his fingers are in your mouth, pushing on the back of your tongue. Not knowing exactly why, you close your lips around them and shut your eyes.

"That's better," he says.

The first time you saw a male sex toy in use was in an ad before a porn video you were watching. You were taken aback by the way the performer had pounded it over his cock, barely more than an extension of his hand. You're reminded of that image as he parts your lips again, and the rape of your throat begins in earnest.

You haven't thought about Jason Meier in years, but at this moment he's the only thing keeping you sane. As your face rams up and down, up and down, you retreat to that beat up convertible, and Jason's soft, thoughtful face. As the man tightens his grip, Jason runs his fingers through your hair. As the man grunts and growls with pleasure, Jason coos your name. With each stroke of his cock down your throat, each spasm of your body, you focus on a different part of Jason's body: his large hands, his long fingers, his shoulders, his jawline, his liquid brown eyes. By the time the man finally releases your hair, you can barely feel your body any more. The convertible is far more real than the squeaky motel bed. The hands on your body are Jason's, soft and tender.

He climbs over the center console straddling you. You lock lips, feel your tongues in each other's mouths, kiss so deeply that it feels as though you share the same breath. He pulls the lever to lay your seat back, and then he's over you, on top of you, lifting your skirt, pulling your panties to the side.

This is the part where, in the old days, you would have slipped a finger or two inside yourself. But this time you don't have to. This time you can feel him inside you, really feel him, and he fills you up like your fingers never could. There's some pain—they told you there'd be pain, didn't they, your first time—but it falls away to the thrill, the lust, the pleasure. Jason whimpers as he slides into you, deeper, deeper, and you moan into each other's mouths as his pelvis meets yours. You take a moment to savor it, breathing each other in, and then he begins to thrust.

You feel drunk. It's exactly like you always imagined it, and somehow better than you could ever have expected. Each movement of his hips brings another sensation: a spasm in the arches of your feet, a hitch in your breath, a churning, swirling need in the depths of your abdomen. Deeper you tell him, harder, and he obliges, pulling you into him, and him into you.

You can feel the orgasm building, but it isn't like any you've had before. Every time you've ever cum, you've been in control. This time, Jason is in control. Jason decides when you cum, how you cum. One hand supports his weight as he leans over you, and the other slides up your belly. You used to watch those hands obsessively. The way he held a pencil, the way he bit his knuckles when he was thinking. Now that hand slides up, caresses your breast. Now that thumb brushes your hair out of your face. Now those fingers close around your throat.

You know you're safe with Jason, but the pressure on your throat triggers some animal fear response in you. You try to squirm away, but his arm is strong, and his hand his firm. Your hands go to his wrist. "I don't like that, stop." He just smiles. It isn't his usual sweet smile, either. This one is cruel. Predatory.

Your face feels tight. Your eyes bulge. You're beginning to panic for real now. "Jason, seriously, stop!" You beat at his arm with your fists, but he easily takes both your wrists in one hand and pins them over your head. You try to kick at him, but he's already past your defenses, between your legs, pushing them uselessly apart. His grip tightens, his rhythm increases, his cock swells inside you. He's getting off on this.

All at once you're back in the hotel room. The man's sweaty red face is inches away from your own, and the lust in his eyes is obvious. His cock seems to push deeper with every thrust, and the horrible thing is that the orgasm is still coming. It's close now, you can feel it, and it's like he knows exactly how to bring it out. You feel floaty, tingly, and that awful pleasure is welling up inside you, a pot about to boil over...

"That's right," he says, his eyes locked on yours. "That's what I was waiting for. That perfect mix of...pleasure...and...fear." He punctuates each of these last three words with a long, deep thrust, and it's these that send the orgasm spilling over. A choked moan pushes itself out of you as your back arches, your toes curl, your legs wrap involuntarily around his waist, tears roll down your cheeks. That floaty feeling has combined with the orgasm to create something like how you imagine heroin must feel; a wave of mind numbing, soul deadening ecstasy. Your insides feel hot, and at first you think that must just be what it feels like when you cum from sex, but then you see the look on his face and realize that he's cumming too. His grip relaxes and he pounds away a few more times at your now-limp body. You stare at the ceiling as he moans, buries his face between your tits, pumps round after round of his warm, thick cum into your cunt, your womb. After one final push he collapses onto you, his cock still inside you, his bulk crushing you into the bed. You don't move.

He strokes your cheek. Fondles your nipple. Kisses your neck. Then he kisses your mouth, his tongue pushing your lips open, his breath like damp earth. You barely see him.

It must be almost ten minutes before he finally gets up, his limp cock sliding out of you at last. You can feel his cum dripping from your cunt as he puts on his underwear, then pants, then shirt, then shoes. "The room is paid for the night," he says with his hand on the door handle. "Thank you for struggling. Taking someone's virtue is so much better when you actually get to take it.

You don't respond.

You don't know how long you lie there, motionless, dripping cum. Oddly, the man who just raped you isn't the one burned onto your mind's eye. Try as you might to return to that sweet teenage fantasy, all you can see is Jason Meier as he held his hand to your throat, and that cruel, predatory smile on his face.

[cheriladycl01]

So, you lied to me? - Lando Norris x Tourist! Reader

Plot: Going on a travel year you end up in Monaco, the plan wasn't too fall for the man who helped you to the British Embassy and gave you a place to stay when someone stole everything from you ...

Credit to yrsonpurpose for the GIF

You took a gap year before university and decided to travel you'd started off the New Year on a flight from London, to Qatar to New Zealand. You travelled around New Zealand and Australia for the majority of January, before moving on to Papa New Guinea, Fiji and Samoa.

You then travelled round the South Asian countries, like Indonesia, Singapore, Thailand, Vietnam and the Philippines and Taiwan all throughout February. You then moved onto China, doing both Disney Parks while you were there and sight seeing. You did South Korea and Japan.

Coming into April, you moved onto Sri Lanka and India, and The Middle East, doing Dubai, Abu Dhabi, Bahrian, Qatar, Oman and Saudi Arabia.

Afterwards, now having done 2 continents, you moved onto Africa, you spent the end of April and the majority of May travelling here, before leaving for Europe.

A nice 2 weeks island hopping around Greece, before a week travelling up the boot of Italy.

It was when you drove to Monaco in a rental car that things got difficult.

You were walking along the harbor where all the expensive yachts were docked wishing that one could be yours. You didn't have all your bags on you, the larger ones left behind in the hotel room you'd booked for the night. But you had your important stuff on you, like you passport, your drivers license and all your travel documents.

You were taking a picture on your nice Canon camera of the yachts and the street that had weird red corners rounding it that you put down to being measures to just help drivers slow down round the corners, but they were definitely an eyesore.

Every time nice cars drove by there was whistles and claps that made you look at what car it was, you could never tell what model it was but they looked nice and you guess you could say sporty.

As you were distracted taking your pictures a guy comes up to you with a small, parcel cutting knife in his hand. He slit the straps of what you thought was a really sturdy bag and the weight notifies you to the loss of the bag. You let your camera drop as you turn to see the guy now holding your bag and starting to run away with it.

"Hey! Stop" you shout before running after him.

"Aide, Aide" you shout as you continue to follow him, your minimal French not helping as people scold you for being a bustly tourist.

You aren't really looking where you going and you loose him at a busy intersection of people, you spin round looking at every possible direction he could have gone in.

"Shit!" you whisper to yourself quietly tears coming in your eyes. You spin round a little to quickly, bumping into someone who drops the bag that they were holding.

"Désolé, mon erreur" you try looking at the young gentleman you'd bumped into in a hoodie and jeans. He looks at you with a confused look, a smirk coming onto his face.

"Oh sorry, tu ne parles pas français? Maybe Italian, erm fuck scusa, parli italiano?" you ask with again the bare minimum of Italian you know.

"I speak perfectly good English" he smiles, laughing a little as your expression turns to shock.

"Oh! Oh I'm so stupid. Hello!" you smile looking at the very attractive man in front of you, you blushed a little looking up at him.

"You look panicked what's wrong?" he asks.

"I was tacking pictures of the harbor and some guy took my bag. It has everything in of mine and I don't know what to do" You say to him looking a little more panicked.

"Everything as in money ... because I can help with that" he says placing a hand on your arm.

"I don't care about the money, but he has all of my documents. My passport, my drivers license everything" you cry a little.

"Oh! Erm, I have a friend who was born here, and let me get him and he can help us file a police report. Then mmm the British Embassy is all the way in Paris and you cant get a flight so we'll have to drive there..." he starts to rant and your face turned shocked.

"We?" you ask, confused as to how this guy has just inserted himself into your life drama's.

"Oh yeah, I've gotta help you out now. You got that whole damsel in distress thing going on right now! Any way damsel, what's your name?" he jokes and you look over at him offended.

"I am not a damsel in distress! And Y/N" you retort.

"You so are, the tear stains, the wide, helpless eyes, the guppy fish face your pulling right now, the butchered French and Italian to a strange man who actually is British... Y/N" he laughs making you pout and push him a little.

"I don't even have a place to stay after 3pm today and I cant check in anywhere without ID" you say rubbing your head, looking around as if the man would randomly pop back up and hand you your bag back before saying how sorry he was.

"You can stay at my place, I have two spare bedrooms" he smiles and you look at him in shock.

"You live here, in Monaco ..." you ask.

"Yeah, I moved here a few years ago, for ...work" he offers, he phones his friend walking off for a few seconds alone before he pulls you along one of the side streets and too a quiet cafe he went to, to keep under wraps.

"Okay, Y/N this is my friend ... er Percy" he says pointing to Charles, so far you hadn't shown any signs of knowing who he is and he didn't want you to catch wind of that.

"Hello Percy, its nice to meet you" you smile and he looks at you with a vacant yet confused expression.

"Oh and whose this you are beautiful" you compliment looking at the girl behind him.

"Y/N this is my girlfriend Alex" Charles indicates to Alex behind him who smiles and pulls you in for a kind hug that you definitely needed. You could hear both of their strong accents as they introduced himself.

"Oh, I never got you name, what's your name?" you ask turning to look at Lando, who freezes for a second.

"Erm, my names Robert, but you can call me Bob" he smiles and you raise and eyebrow at him.

"Hmmm, you don't look like a Robert... or a Bob. Interesting choice" you voice your opinion making everyone awkwardly laugh.

Charles, Lando and Alex took you to the nearest police station in Monaco, Charles translated what they were saying and you answered to which he and Alex would help translate back.

Charles explained that they were escalating it because you are a tourist in need, but you picked up some words that made the sentence not sound like that at all.

You were asked if you had a place to say and Lando explained you'd be staying with him until everything was sorted out.

The Monegasque police got in contact with the Paris British Embassy for you, they explained that the police had sent over you information and if you wanted to hold off on a new passport for a few days to see if it would turn up you were more than welcome, but right now your passport was on lockdown.

And that was how you ended up spending the end of July and all of August with Lando, it was strange really. For a man who had and extremely nice collection of clothes and a very large apartment he didn't go to work often. There was one room you weren't allowed in which is where he often went, you assumed it was a man cave or gaming room where he played with his friends because you heard lots of shouting and aggressive banging.

He'd been so sweet, he took you on dates from going out to dinner, to picnics, to going swimming and lots more. It felt like more than a summer fling. Especially once he asked you to be his girlfriend, which you immediately said yes too.

But he got a lot more twitchy after he had.

Eventually, Lando or Bob as you knew him took you to Paris so you could get your passport. He explained that he travelled a lot for work and he would need to leave soon and you explained that before you bumped into him you'd been on a gap year travelling the world.

"Baby, why don't you come with me?" he asked randomly as you were both lying on the sofa, cuddling while watching a film.

"You wont even tell me what you do for work Baby! And besides I had a schedule that I'm already behind on. A week ago you said you didn't mind going our separate ways for a little bit until Christmas and then you'd come to England with me" you say playing with his curls.

"Okay, I'm going to be honest with you now... my name isn't Bob" he says shyly and you sit up at the speed of light turning to look at him.

"I knew it! So you lied to me?" you exclaim laughing.

"So, what's my boyfriends actual name?" you ask looking him dead in the eyes, he leans up on his elbows before sitting the full way up.

"Lando, I am Lando Norris" he smiles.

"Hmmmm, Lando... Lando. I could get used to that" you smile.

"You aren't mad?" he asks looking over you, brushing you hair back and tucking it behind your ear before kissing your cheek.

"I knew you weren't being completely honest when we first met... but I also knew you had your own reasons" you offer.

"I think its going to be easier if I just hand you my Instagram" he admits with a gulp as he hands you his phone. The first thing you notice is how many followers he had, there was around 10million and he had nearly 2,500 posts.

You look at the friends list, and one peeks your interest. Charles Leclerc, who looked exactly like Percy who Lando had introduced you too.

You then go back and look at his bio, that told you his actual job.

"So, I'm dating a super famous athlete?" you ask looking up at him away from the phone to see his head down in his hands. He turns to the side to sneak a look at your expression, his eyes a little glossy.

"To be specific, a Formula 1 driver" you ask again and he nods.

"You are such a muppet, my god" you laugh before pulling him into a hug.

"How aren't you upset with me?" he ask unsure.

"Well, I agreed to date you, because you are you. I doubt you change into Mr Hyde when you become a what was is Porsche race-car driver? I fell in love with you, not Bob, not Lando, you. So whether that is Bob, who kindly helped a crying lady on the street who just had her passport stolen from her, or Lando a cool and amazing race-car driver. Whoever you are is the person I love" you grin and he pulls you into a hug.

"So you want to join me for the last few races? Or you want to finish this world trip of yours?" he asks.

"Well, looking at your calendar, I can actually meet you at the rest of the races, While travelling. I'll continue to do Europe until you have the Netherlands, and ill go back to Italy, just for you. I'll miss Azerbaijan and Singapore because I did that, but I'll knock out some of South America, I'll meet you for Austin, then we can do Mexico and Brazil together, then we can do Vegas together! And by that point I can call it done with my trip!" you exclaim and he looks like he considers it for a second.

He's shocked, he cant remember the last time a girlfriend tried so hard to link up their schedules like this, and proved that they'd be able to work despite some potential scheduling issues.

"I love you. I fucking love you" he grins pulling you back down onto the sofa kissing all over your face making you giggle.

A/N: I've been doing a lot of Lando recently, I don't know if you can tell but I love writing about him, he's my fav to write about right now.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @kapsylia @laneyspaulding19 @viennakarma

[vqlluna]

CLOSURE ━━━ REMUS LUPIN

summary: it's been years since you confessed your love to Remus, and he couldn't reciprocate it. It's been years since your days at Hogwarts ended, and you're now recouped back with your schoolmates for a holiday party. What could go wrong?

pairings: f!reader x remus lupin, angst, fluff,

a/n: ngl this is partly based on the beginning of my parent's little love story, and of course, this is based on closure by taylor swift (and basically the whole evermore album)

      ❝ IT'S BEEN A LONG TIME, and seeing the shape of your name just spells out pain. It wasn't right the way it all went down, looks like you know that now... ❞

     You quickly ran down the stairs of your apartment, trying your best to fit the silver hoop through your ear without harming yourself. You tripped your way into your incredibly small kitchen, shuffling at the island counter, which only was filled with months-old letters, bills, and notices, trying your best to find a specific invitation.

     Mary Macdonald had been your best schoolmate during your years at Hogwarts, and despite, by now a few years, of barely speaking to her or anyone in her crowd, she'd been so kind as to invite you to a wonderfully large and fancy Christmas Party.

     And it was for this very reason as to why you stood in your most expensive dress, dug out from the back of your closet. You wiped your sweaty hands on the velvet fabric before delving back into the mountain of parchment searching for the envelope that held every single piece of information you neglected to put to memory that would get you into that party.

     You were desperate to spend your Holidays not stuck in your parent's home for once. But it was only once you accidentally stumbled into a large stack as every single piece of paper collapsed on the floor, that you realized who might actually be there. You carefully picked up small clumps, replacing them back on the counter as you eyed the very last one.

     It was quite dusty with small water stains sprinkled and it was extremely crumpled. Your jaw clenched as you picked it up and placed it at the edge of the counter. You inhaled a large breath before snapping your head in a different direction as you finally saw the invitation in your peripheral.

     You ran to your living area grabbed your purse and ran back as you gripped the envelope. As expected, you've managed to make yourself late. You waddled on over in your heels to the small entranceway and picked up your coat and wand from the coat rack.

     Maybe in a moment of weakness or a flood of memories, you looked back to the dirty crinkled piece of parchment in your kitchen. It was a big party, there would barely be any chance you'd see him, you assured yourself. And in fact even if you do, you can do you best to avoid him, you planned.

     You shook your head and stepped back towards the island. Gripping the envelope tightly you shoved it into the pocket of your coat.

     But if by any chance you ended up speaking with him tonight, you'd surely give it back, you couldn't possibly bear the weight of that note anymore, and you surely had no use for it now.

     Taking a deep sigh you adjusted the collar of your jacket, patting now your hair in the mirror before exiting your old townhome. You locked the door behind you and shoved your hands into your pockets. You squeezed the envelope inside it almost in comfort before you apparated yourself away.

     ❝ Yes, I got your letter, yes, I'm doing better. It cut deep to know ya', right to the bone... ❞

     After you found yourself apparated to an area which you knew was near your designation you crunched the snow beneath your heels as you walked, almost aimlessly, to the party. Upon seeing the large estate you felt wildly unprepared and under-dressed. Least to say it was a luxurious event.

     You stumbled up the steps, nervously searching through the vast halls, filled with fishes of people, to find a pair of, wanted, familiar eyes. You found yourself in the gigantic main room, as witches and wizards conversed among themselves, grabbing the treats and drinks off the trays of staff.

     You were stopped as one of the waiters offered you a truffle, interested in the beautiful dessert you picked it up and turned around as you shoved it in your face, only to accidentally bump into another figure. The woman you'd crashed into turned around, their bright red hair flashing your eyes. As you got a good look at the person your face fell.

     "Oh my—Merlin! y/n is that you?" she excitedly asked, disregarding your muttered apology and quickness in trying to whip back around. You cringed and turned back around on your heel giving a fake smile.

     "Lily—my Godric, hi," you breathed.

     Lily slowly parted from her current conversation to partake in one with you. "Well I haven't seen you in forever! Where are you, what do you do now?" she questioned.

     You wiped your sweaty palms once again on the fabric of your dress, "I, uhm, I live in Chudley now," you chuckled nervously "I'm an artist, a painter actually."

     The red-headed girl looked at you in such awe, and you were certainly in disbelief as to why. "Wow y/n, have you sold much? Featured in a gallery ever?" she was completely interested. It was then that you remembered that she was always like this, but it'd been so long that you'd forgotten what it was like to have someone engaged in what you had to say.

     Your smile finally picked up a bit, "Yes, actually, got my first gallery showing about a week ago, it's still up for a couple of months! But uh, regarding sales, it's enough to keep the lights on, y'know?"

     "Well I think it's absolutely lovely that you're working your dream, that's really great," Lily appreciated, "I'm assuming you're trying to find Mary, come along this way, she with the rest of them!" she waved on, but your feet were planted in the ground.

     You gulped down the last tiny bit of your truffle, you eyebrows knitted together as you stuttered, "The—the uhm, the rest of them?"

     Lily's excitement softened at your mutters, "Oh you're still—" she said slightly surprised but she cut herself off in fear of saying something offensive, "He hasn't arrived yet," she assured, then lowering her voice in a whisper, "We're not sure if he's coming, it's around that time."

     You grew a small frown, "Ah," you hummed, "He uh, well," you dug out the letter from your pocket, waving it in front of Lily as she read the senders name printed in the corner. Her lips pressed together as she nodded, giving you relief as she disregarded it and intended to act like she didn't see the letter, nor knew anything of the situation guiding you through the nets of attendees.

     You took a large breath of bravery through your nose as you slowly approached the circle of very familiar faces. You first caught Marlene Mckinnon's attention, catching you in her view her eyebrows lifted as her mouth formed a small O.

     Following her gaze, Sirius finally saw you, his eyes widened in utter shock as he absentmindedly nudged James beside him. Looking at the disturbance James' cheeks puffed up with air before exhaling it out. Dorcas, who stood at the other end beside Marlene watched the scene and you could see her mouth the word "shit," at everyone's upset.

     How were you to approach a group of old friends who now semi-hated you but yet felt incredibly sorry for you? Instead of stressing over the others, you focussed on how Mary squealed with joy upon seeing you. She slightly waddled a run in her heels over to you as she embraced you warmly. "You came!"

     You scrunched your face with a grin as you pulled back, "Of course, Mary! Needed to get out of the house anyways," you smiled, she put you at ease even while Marlene looked at you so skeptically and as James and Sirius exchanged glasses before downing the rest their glasses of champagne in their hands.

     "Well if it isn't y/n y/l," Marlene smirked, it completely confused you because while the rest of her face seemed elated to see you, her eyes seemed to almost be throwing daggers at you. The rest of the women quickly warmed up to you as you entered the conversation, though James and Sirius kept almost unnervingly quiet. Above all, you noticed the absence of Peter and him.

     Finally, the conversation began to smooth, the group being able to get quite a few good hearty laughs from you. Though the ends of your Hogwarts days were a touchy subject that everyone mindlessly agreed not to talk about, you all got caught up in reminiscing on events previous to it.

     But it soon came to a close as Peter ran up, "I've got a surprise f'you all!" he exclaimed gripping the back of James' shoulder as he squeezed himself between the pair of men before he looked across the circle to you. He opened his mouth to say something before tightly shutting it closed. 

     Behind him followed another man. He was tall, dressed his best scraggly black coat, a white undershirt, and black slacks all tied together with a matching black tie. His ruffly brown hair didn't match his attire, and neither did the deep scars that lined his face, some old but some fresh and new, but either way he was undeniably beautiful.

     He slowed to a stop in the small opening between Peter and Sirius as his half-lidded eyes and warm smile turned into repetitive blinking of disbelief and lips in awe.

    And for a moment, the rapid growing beat of your heart, as you saw his figure coming, came to a complete stop.

     And everything was deadly silent.

     ❝ Yes, I got your letter, yes, I'm doing better. I know that it's over, I don't need your closure... ❞

     The group stood still and quiet for seconds as their eyes flickered between the two of you, itching to see the reactions. The awkwardness between everything grew to a hot before Sirius shut it down, to the relief of everyone except you.

     "So who needs a drink?" he asked, and like a pounce of a tiger, everyone utters their Yups and Yes's and Count Me In's, scurrying away quickly. Mary was the last to leave, fighting with herself in her head if it was better to let you deal with it for once or keep you safe from this horror you desperately tried to stay away from.

     You dipped your head down staring at your shoes trying to avoid his eyes. It was only when he cleared his throat that you snapped ur attention back up to him. "Remus," you greeted quickly with his name, flashing a fake, uncomfortable smile.

     He grazed your figure with his eyes for a beat before he muttered your name, "y/n."

     The air felt cold and thick against your exposed skin, your necklace and dress growing tight on your skin from hearing your name from his lips again. "How are you—"

     "Cut it with the niceties Moo—Lupin," you stopped him, "You can have your letter back," you growled digging the letter back out of your pocket and shoving it in his hand, "I've gotten all of them, but this one... you need to take this one back. I don't want it," you gritted.

     "Y/n, I just. You wouldn't talk to me, I needed you to know—" Remus changed, not wanting your disacceptence.

     "So filling my mail with your stupid words would get us through to each other? You did all this to yourself."

     "I didn't know you had—Look I'm sorry but I was scared—"

     You scoffed and laughed in his face adjusting the strap of your purse on your shoulder, "I'm not doing this with you right now, here, after all this time. I'll send the rest of your letters over another day, K?" you ended turning around walking out of the grand room and through the halls.

     Remus' heart clenched in love of hearing your laugh but hated the circumstances it was under, begging for this conversation, to clear up every single miscommunication and wrong step, he followed you out. 

     You crossed by the open bar finding Mary and everyone else downing drinks. You took her hands into your own, "Thanks for inviting me Mary, truly, but I best get going now," you thanked quickly, ignoring Remus behind you with his open mouth with empty words. He only flicked his eyes to the group for a fraction of a second before landing back to you, still closely following you out as you grabbed your coat at the door and exited the mansion.

     ❝ Don't treat me like some situation that needs to be handled. I'm fine with my spite, and my tears, and my beers, and my candles. I can feel you smoothing me over... ❞

     You were halfway across the large courtyard as Remus scurried down the steps, "I loved you!" he exclaimed. You froze and a sharp breath filled your lungs as you whipped around, and you let yourself fully remember what happened for once.

     It was the start of your seventh year at Hogwarts. Everyone knew something was brewing between you and Remus. The strong tension, the back-and-forth banters, subtle compliments, and executing favors with no question.

     It felt like a silent agreement between you two as the flirtations grew more obvious. Every sight of him caught you winded, and every touch had you melt to the floor, when he finally kissed you, you couldn't help but feel yourself explode with your own personal fireworks. Until he pulled away.

     Rumors that he started talking to someone new shattered you. Soon your heartbreak filled with rage, he'd lead you on only to crush you and leave you stranded. And where once, he helped you captain your ship, you soon found him drowned away as you frantically steered yourself into an iceberg. 

     Your anger so strong you couldn't even look at him, and so you left anything related to him altogether.

     Because you thought you had something, only to be made to feel like you meant nothing. Your graduation day only led to more despair as Remus sought you out once again, with the courage to confess. You shut him down and locked him out. It was the loudest and yet most silent, lonely, train ride home.

     You blinked back to the present, Remus and you still in the exact moment and positions. Your jaw clenched as his next words came out so softly, so slowly, like a whisper only you could hear across the courtyard. "I still love you."

     ❝ Yes, I got your letter, yes, I'm doing better. It cut deep to know you right to the bone. Yes, I got your letter, yes, I'm doing better. I know that it's over, I don't need your closure. Your closure, your closure, your closure...❞

     The fire in your stomach was lit again, "Don't. Moony, just don't. What was that letter? Huh?" you begged, "'I'm letting you go. I hope you're life is swell'? What was that bloody shit? Because it sure seemed to me like a let's-catch-up-like-good-old-friends type of letter! Not a I've-loved-you-after-all-these-years!" you shouted angrily stomping your way up to him.

     "You didn't even try! In any of your letters! All you do is act like it's fine or give empty apologies. So please, explain now, give me a real reason for everything, but don't give me this shit."

     He stared at you in worry as your bottom lip quivered, eyes glazed in gloss. "I was trying to stop loving you."

     You sobbed a wolfish laugh, "Bull. Shit." you said, pushing his chest away, "You knew I was interested! You knew! So don't give me that absolute fuckery because it makes no sense!" 

      "I couldn't burden you with—everything—all my...problems," he whimpered, "You needed, you need someone stable. You need someone who can give you a home and family like you wanted."

      You parted you lips at his confessions of insecurties, "Remus, I'm a full time artist, barely making it to keep my water on—" you tried explaining back to him.

      "I saw your gallery, you know! You need someone who's going to help you show off more of your talent, not hold you back! So why haven't you found someone yet? Stop sitting around hung up on me—" he rambled on, getting angier as you tried driving him away, but bits of every sentence he said added fuel to your burning fire.

     "I am not hung up on you!" you exclaimed.

     "So why are you here begging me for reasons why I didn't want to be with you? Why do you have to freeze every damn time you look at me, and for Merlin's sake, why've you kept all my letters?"

     Your face blackened while you glared into his eyes. And while your fear of confrontation was afraid of confronting what went down, it was the fear of confronting what still lingered. You still loved him. That's what you wrote in the only letter you ever wrote back, the letter you never sent.

     And maybe that's why his letters stopped coming. When he was finally ready to let go and take his risks to have you, you neglected to accept his grasp.

     ❝I know I'm just a wrinkle in your past life. Staying friends would iron it out so nice. Guilty, guilty reaching out across the sea that you put between you and me. But it's fake and it's oh so unnecessary...❞

     You didn't know why you did it, well you knew why you did it, but you didn't know what came of you. Because instead of pushing him away, you gripped tightly onto the collar of his white shirt, dragging and pulling him to you as you crashed your lips onto his. 

     And when he, very quickly, kissed you back, your hands skidded up grasping the sides of his face, his own hands pressing your back closer into him. Your lips toppled over each other fueled with passion, craning his neck down just to feel more of you. 

     You didn't mind that the chilly air froze your cheeks because when the snow came falling you knew it was for the two of you, hoping that it'd freeze you in this moment. You panted lightly through your nose as Remus finally pulled back from you, dashing his eyes all across your face trying to read you.

     "Because I don't want you to let go, Remus," you whispered your answer back, Remus shaking his head sofly and rapidly in assurance of your words, "I'm fine with your problems, I'm fine if you can't give me a family, I'm fine if you can't give me a steady life." you scrambled tripping over your own words.

     After avoiding his gaze you finally let his chases of finding your eyes catch up with you. "I don't want just a life, Rem. I wanted a life with you. You can't just try to let go of me, can't just stop loving me because you're scared of that," you scolded, furrowing your eyebrows at him.

     "You need to let yourself love someone, you've— you need to give me a chance so I can love you." you pressed. Your stomach fluttered as he gave you a soft kiss as your lips once more, and this time when he pulled back he kept his eyes on yours, not letting you look away. You didn't want to look away, you were hanging on waiting for him to say something, anything.

     "I will."

     ❝ Yes, I got your letter, yes, I'm doing better. It cut deep to know you right to the bone. Yes, I got your letter, yes, I'm doing better. I know that it's over, I don't need your closure. Closure, your closure, your closure.❞

[kaiyaamin]

Forgotten Lunch (Bruce Wayne x Wife! Reader)

You were driving in the car, with a sack lunch in the passenger street. Bruce had forgotten to take his lunch and being a thoughtful wife decided to bring it to him.

You were excited you rarely went to Wayne Enterprise because your job hours were the same as Bruce's. You had a day off, and right after you dropped his lunch, you were going to the nail salon.

You parked the car towards the back having less of a hassle to find a spot. Walking in you were immediately greeted by some of the employees who recognized you and saw them pointing at you, but you didn't mind being used to it.

The sound of your high heels echoes through the lobby towards the receptionist. The lady looked up, you could tell she seemed shy. "Hello, I was wondering if Mr.Wayne was in any meeting right now", You said softly. "No, Ma'am, Mr Wayne should be expecting you", she said carefully, scared she might say something wrong. You nodded at her and thanked her as you walked towards the elevator.

When the elevator opened you were surprised to see a lady being rude to the employees. Before you could say something the rude lady saw you and pulled you by the arm making your back slam against the wall. Oh hell no you thought This lady must really want an ass kicking.

I am Miranda, the Wayne Enterprises manager, which means I ensure, no new employees cause any trouble, Miranda said in a snooty tone. Before I could slap this bitch she looked me up and down in disgust was, this bitch. Who are you trying to impress with all that makeup and this dress, here we have a standard procedure of no makeup and uniform, that bitch Miranda says as rudely as possible.

"Say that to all that cake-on makeup you have on your face, who are you trying to impress?" you said as you inspected her horrifying face wishing you brought some sunglasses. Trying to divert the attention off of her she commented on my food. "Who made that the rat", Miranda said as if it was even a good comeback. "No, but even a rat can make better food than you", you replied fed up with this girl's behavior.

But again this bitch just keeps on talking, you were about to take your high heel off and stab her eye with it but then it would be a waste of a good heel. "What can you do? you are just a lowly employee", Miranda says with such confidence. "Miranda-", Bruce says but was cut off by the wicked witch of the west(Miranda). " Oh Mr. Wayne it's good to see you", Miranda said in a flirty tone. It's funny how fast that girl switches up when my man comes.

"Miranda!", Bruce yelled stopping Miranda in shock. "This lowly employee you spoke to was my wife", Bruce said with a stern tone not taking shit from anybody. This was a complete shock to Miranda as she started to stutter, "I-I-I didn't know I am so sorry Mr and Mrs Wayne", red in the checks from being embarrassed by the mistake.

"I don't care Miranda this is not the first time I've heard complaints like these before I decided to not do anything because of how dedicated you were but now that has changed", Bruce said with anger in his eyes. "What do you mean s-sir", Miranda said as if she was going to cry. "You are fired, I suggest you pack your things now or I will call security", Bruce said as calmly as he could but anger shown in his eyes. Miranda ran away as fast as possible, away from the peering eyes.

Bruce was quick to apologize to all the employees who were tormented by Miranda, knowing Bruce he probably promised something really expensive for them to take as an apology.

Bruce then looks at his wife taking her by the hand and leading her to the office. "Are you okay? what are you doing here? Do you want some water or anything?", Bruce said scanning Me from head to toe making sure there were no injuries. "I came to drop off your lunch you forgot to bring", you said smiling up at Bruce. All he could do was laugh and talk to you for the remainder of the time til he had to return to work.

"You know Mr.Wayne", you said holding his as Bruce walked with you towards the car." What Mrs.Wayne?" He said playfully. "You were really hot when you were taking charge", you said fanning yourself. "Maybe I should do that more often" Bruce said, cupping your checks and giving you a peck on the lips. "Definitely," you said as you pulled him back giving him a passionate kiss on his lips.

[hopefulfuturenovelauthor]

Headcanons of what's like to date Bruce, Dick, Jason, Martian, Wally, and Clark?

Hi, sorry for taking so long, but I am very grateful for your patience!

Here you go...

Headcanons of what's like to date Bruce, Dick, Jason, Martian, Wally, and Clark?

I would like to state that I’m assuming you meant Martian Manhunter and not Miss Martian, but in the case that I am wrong and you meant Miss Martian let me know and I’ll add her to this or write a super-long essay of your guy’s relationship or something!

As always please do not copy my work in any way, shape, or form. Thanks!

Warnings: none i think... not spell checked...

Bruce Wayne

Dating Bruce Wayne? Gotham’s favorite Billionaire and the Batman? Wow, good luck.

There is a lot of angsty shit in your relationship. Keep in mind it’s not like you guys have like crazy issues or anything, not to say that the Joker isn’t a crazy issue, but I mean that you don’t actually fight with each other a lot. 

You disagree quite a bit considering you watch him on monitors and he goes out and actually gets hurt, but all of that frustration and worry comes from a place of care.

However, you didn’t talk to him for days when he decided to let Dick join him in the field. You were beyond upset, especially since you knew the dangers of crime-fighting yourself, seeing as you used to be a vigilante. 

Regardless of that, it was Dick that convinced you to cut Bruce some slack. Eventually, you came to agree with the teenager, but only after you kicked Bruce where the sun doesn’t shine.

On a nicer note, definitely lots of gifts coming from his end even though he is called the dark knight.

Even when you were both playing hero and he didn’t know who you were under the mask he gave you little gadgets. You two had also met outside of hero-ing and in your real lives where he constantly graced you with the treat of coffee and/or donuts. 

He likes to get you nice treats and sweets. He knows you don’t care for expensive gifts, especially since you work for a lot of nonprofits.

As for PDA on a scale, I will give you a 7.5/10. A solid 2.5 for physical affection such as hand holding, forehead kisses, whispering in each other's ears, and being a little too close to each other but not so close that you freak out everyone else around you.

As for that leftover 5 on the scale, holy shit do you guys never shut up. The constant flirting is where most of this score comes from. Saying embarrassing and inappropriate shit anywhere and everywhere is common with you. You tease each other relentlessly and enjoy seeing the other squirm. It can be quite uncomfortable for others around you, but you tend to keep the more spicy comments quieter, which leads to all of your odd whisperings.

You sort of live with him…? You guys are most often at his place, but you did decide to keep your own just because you wanted something that you paid for and could afford unlike his gigantic fucking manor.

Bruce cares for you deeply and understands why you want to keep your independence and have at least something of your own, especially considering that you guys work together often.

You are close with all of his family, including each kid he adopts, takes in, or has under his proverbial wing. In fact, you kind of think they prefer you over him, or at the very least Jason definitely does. 

It might also be common sense now that Alfred also likes you more than Bruce because, in your guys' relationship, you have all of the brain cells and are logical. 

You both can be impulsive and rude. You both can come across as very blunt and private people. You work well together despite everything.

You were very glad in the end that you both found someone so supportive and understanding. 

You both were also glad that you had the guts to kiss him because, honestly, he was never going to make the first move without it being an epic disaster.

Dick Grayson

Yay! Okay, this guy and you wow. May I just say couple goals here. Like yes, wonderful, perfect together.

Will you go off on someone for hurting his feelings? Count on it. Whether it is physically fighting or verbally berating someone, you also support everyone’s favorite Blue Bird.

Cute nicknames? Yes, as I stated previously, Blue-Bird, you know because he had been Robin and then he became Nightwing, and Nightwing’s suit is black and blue. Also, his eyes are blue and they look so pretty you could stare at them all day. Also, often used but none as creative as Blue-Bird, sweetheart, darling, cutey, and love.

His pet names for you, are Darling, beautiful, sweetie, bundle of too much adorableness, most wonderful human being to ever exist, my reason for getting out of bed every morning, and love. It is obviously a wonderful mixture of names, and yes, sometimes you do worry about him.

I mean how could you not, you were there since he became Robin, you comforted him through every phase, from being a rebellious teen by denouncing Bruce, becoming Nightwing, forming his own group of heroes, and making the obvious mistake of wearing tights as a part of his costume (that one was particularly hard for you).

I will now rate your PDA, congrats you have received a 6/10. You guys like to give small face kisses (forehead, top of the head, cheek, nose, temple, etc.), you guys give each other small pecks on occasion, and always say ‘I love you’ when one of you has to leave. You hold each other's hands a lot. You guys are very sweet and very wholesome. The only time you aren’t is when you get reunited after a long time (2+ weeks) or a life-threatening thing happens (which is pretty often, I’m not going to lie). 

When you reunite do you share that time slowed down and you are running to each other with the wind in your hair moment before frantically grasping one another to share a passionate kiss. 

Sometimes he will tickle you and pick you up just to spin with you. This happens quite a lot and the two of you often have tickle fights.

You get along with his family, but you have no trouble standing up to them for him. You will fist fight with Jason and tell Tim to ‘shut up and go to sleep’. If Damian starts talking crap you won’t physically hit the child, but you will steal away his pets with treats, which annoys him because food > him.

You will scream at Bruce if necessary. Dick and his adoptive siblings will have to physically pick you up to get you away from the situation.

You guys never fight, except when you eat the last of each other’s ice cream. 

Jeez, you two are so cute together.

Jason Todd

You met early on but got together a few years after his death.

He used to annoy the shit out of you, but the events involving the Joker led you both in the same direction.

You both have a better understanding of each other than anyone else. You are field partners and the only real anti-heroes of Gotham.

You were quick to share an apartment once you both learned each other’s civilian names.

It is easier than you both expected to fall into a rhythm, which only made it easier to go from something platonic to something romantically domestic.

You never seemed to get in each other's way and could somehow calm the other down when the world became a little too quiet or loud. You both rarely slept in the separate beds you had brought and maneuvered into the one bedroom. In fact, neither of you really slept on a bed. 

Most nights you stayed up as late as you could and either returned home and passed out on the couch or watched tv till 3 am, cuddling, and passed out on the couch.

You guys are a little different than others. PDA is more of healthy ways to deal with trauma mixed with a little codependency (but nothing terrible, sometimes shit just gets hard for you both and you have some really off days). Hand holding, back rubs, hugs, and playing with each other's hair and hands are just ways to calm each other.

But back to PDA. Yes. 9/10. You will both totally make out in front of other people spontaneously without a care in the world. He tends to initiate it, but you certainly never have an issue with it.

After all of the shit you two have been through you don’t really care about other people’s comfort around you because you feel safe with each other and are each other's security blankets.

Pet names are definitely common. It is probably the most annoying thing he does when you work together fighting crime. You always hated how he was so arrogant and acted childish when he was Robin. Now he just calls you pet names and flirts ceaselessly with you while you fight together. He will call you sweetheart, darling, beautiful, gorgeous, love, my love, love of my life, and more when you are in the field. He calls you them outside of your night shift too, but that does not annoy you at all. 

You tend to use many of the back, if not all of them, because he means just as much to you. 

He always makes the most adorable face when you cradle his head and call him beautiful. Like this is the softest he will ever be with someone else and he just looks so small and cute and in need of a hug.

If he annoys you, expect gifts in the form of food and drinks. If you annoy him, expect to give him extra hugs and books. 

Yes, you read together, cuddling. Typically different books, but he acts as your personal heater and you love it.

Coffee shop dates, take-out-stay-in dates, and video game dates are to be expected. Also, pastries on top of buildings in the middle of the night are a great pastime.

Also, one last thing, just to mention, you are the only one allowed to use or even touch his guns.

Martian Manhunter

Telepathically communicating, yayyyyyyyy! Okay maybe too soon with that one. But really, expect to be snorting in a silent room as everyone looks at you like you're crazy except for him because he’s smiling fondly at your reaction. 

You two are very sweet together. You help the Justice League with PR stuff, so you talk with the group of heroes all the time.

You often work with the big names and more controversial people in the League, but you work with everyone when you need to.

Also, J’onn can fly so expect to be carried in his arms all the time. He won’t even think about it twice because why would he take you somewhere in a car when he can literally swoop you off your feet bridal style and fly off as you look up at him in complete adoration.

For the moment you’ve all been waiting for, PDA rating. I would say 3/10 in public and 6/10 in private. By that I mean outside world public and the justice hall, mount olympus, etc. as private. In your guy’s place he’s just a cuddle bug or a second cat because yes he bought you a cat for one of your anniversaries.

He cooks you dinner. You join him often, but like he loves to cook you dinner. You think it is really sweet, but he also loves to learn different earthly activities. That and M’gann sends him recipes she thinks you’ll like (and you always love them).

You once made him chocolate cake by the way and now he has a new favorite thing. He loves it and didn’t stop talking about it for months. 

He likes to hold your hands a lot. Sometimes when one of you is stressed the other reaches out in hopes of grounding them before they overthink. It’s very sweet and you both love the gesture.

You sort of also took M’gann under your wing when she first arrived and it melted yours and J’onn’s hearts when she first called you her aunt/uncle. At this point you're like the mom of the YJ and the go to friend for the league. It’s all very sweet but sometimes J’onn feels like the League is hogging you and ‘has to’ drag you away from everyone quite literally, which goes a little something like this:

“Oh, but J’onn, I was having a lovely conversation with Bruce.” “Oh, I’m very sorry, Y/n, but we really have to go,” as he starts to pull you out of the room. “Alright, sorry Bruce we can talk, more some other time?” Once you both make it out of the room you release a breath, “Dinner?” “Yes.” “Great because I’m hungry and Bruce was gnawing my ear off.” After that you both just laugh.

Dinner goes great by the way and you share chocolate cake at the end before going home to cuddle with your cat and watch baking and cooking shows.

Wally West

Just to get it out there, you show your guys affection through food and physical touch 

You make Wally whatever you can cook and make a lot of it for his boosted metabolism. You also order extra pizza for him.

He tries to bake you your favorite desserts but sometimes lacks the patience and other times he eats half of it.

He typically just always buys you your favorite snacks and desserts. Even then he always ‘sneaks’ a bite.

Your PDA is surprisingly low, but as he matures it definitely increases. Like Dick had told you all those years ago it took a while to get used to Wally eating.

I would rate you a 2/10 at the beginning of your relationship and an 8/10 when at your best. (basically Young Justice S1 Wally compared to S2)

You are always touching each other. I don’t mean in an inappropriate way, but considering it is Wally that isn’t unheard of, just not often done in public.

On top of that, he will carry you everywhere, superspeed, normal speed it does not matter. Hand holding always, hugging always. He just wants physical contact. And piggy backs.

But like also, his pickup lines. I repeat his pickup lines. They are so cheesy and corny and you find them endearing somehow. I mean I do too, he is a sweetheart so yeah.

He treats you so well too. Your well-being matters so much to him and if you need something, he will be there in like 3 seconds regardless of where he is.

Nicknames should be expected: whatever you do, whatever you like he finds a way to make it a nickname. He does use babe a lot, but it feels a little basic so he comes up with new one's all the time. Sometimes they stick and other times you choke on air, but the scientific method says that you will fail and retry so it doesn’t phase him.

For the record though, he is Wally so a lot of his nicknames are food based: honey, cupcake, sugar cube, sweet potato, and more.

If you nerd out with him he will never, I repeat, never let you go. 

Also if you wear his merch he will be all over you. Depending on the situation and the place it might get a little spicy, but in most cases he will wrap his arms around your middle and just hold you tightly as he falls back into a chair or couch or something. He will not let you go and will nuzzle his face into your neck for hours. For someone that is so fast and gets bored so easily, he will never want any of this to end. 

Clark Kent

Yeah, you know. You knew. You were well aware of who he was. One single pair of glasses did not fool you. I mean, you didn’t say anything until like the seventh date, but you knew.

Yay, lucky you are normal, in fact, you do not play hero in your free time, but you do have some abilities.

You blame the particle accelerator explosion that occurred in your last home for your abilities. But they were easy to hide and really helped with your job.

You are a psychologist/part-time therapist. You met Clark through an interview you did about the effects of the most recent attack in Metropolis on the citizens' mental health. You had to fight for this article to even exist, but you did so because you could feel the fear that radiated throughout it. 

You did everything you could to provide as much help and information as you could on the topic. Clark had been the photographer for the interview and you both immediately hit it off.

He asked you out to dinner when you stopped by his office to discuss doing another article. Clark said that to celebrate the occasion he could take you out if you wanted.

You said yes because free dinner was nice and he seemed like a good guy, so you thought why the heck not?

Of course, the date went well and you highly enjoyed his company. He asked you out again and said yes.

On your third date, he had to leave early for whatever reason, and then a minute later Superman flew by and started to stop a robbery a block away. Interested, you got as close as you could and were very shocked when you saw Superman’s face. 

You didn’t mention it, but he had the same aura with the slightest bit of guilt that you thought was likely toward leaving you mid-date.

Once he knew you knew he eased up a lot and told you all about his past and Krypton and his powers and his hero-ing. 

You guys have great communication, which is in part due to your empathic abilities. You can always tell when something bothers him and he is more than willing to talk through whatever troubles him. You do the same understanding that you both thrive off of honesty with each other.

Conversation always comes easy. 

Some activities you like to do together are going out for dinner, movie nights, baking, picnic dates, and annoying Bruce Wayne.

Your PDA scale would be like a 4/10 at most. You are very sweet with each other, but sometimes you both find it odd being extra coupley with others around you. Since Clark has super hearing he can tell when people are uncomfortable and since you have your empath abilities you can feel it too. Other people’s moods also affect yours in general so the more people there are the more overwhelmed you feel so you try to avoid anything more than a quick peck on the cheek. 

However, it is still very obvious you two are together because you spend a lot of time with each other and go to lunch together basically every day.

Around the Justice League, you can be a little more open with your affections but you both still prefer privacy.

Nicknames: yes. There are some of the basics: darling, dear, love, etc. Clark particularly likes calling you my dear and you enjoy calling him sweetheart. Sometimes you joke around when he enters a room and you say, “It’s a bird, it’s a plane, it’s my boyfriend, Clark Kent.”

[thevirtualvalentine]

TAPE FOUR : BOOTY BANDIT !

Staring … Trafalgar D. Water Law 📸

SET SCRIPT : “hii! congrats on 100 followers. could i request a burglar!law x f!reader with dacryphilia or sadism? thank uuuu 🫶”

MATURE RATING(S) : ! NONCON ! SOMNOPHILIA , stalking, sadism (he slaps and spanks you here and there), dacryphilia, degredation, reader is called ‘bunny’ occasionally, unprotected sex, mentions of getting you pregnant, afab!fem reader, ooc law, overall this is very NSFW & be advised before interacting.

DIRECTORS CUT : for thee Trafalgar Law enthusiast @hesmything , sorry this came out so .. dark and disgusting. My first time writing dark content, & thank you for requesting <3

It’d been a week. A week of him watching you go in and out of your house without closing your blinds or properly locking your door. All he really wanted was some shitty belongings to pawn off you, but… you ended up being a favorite part of his day.

The way you dress yourself, how you undress yourself, and he’s particularly fond of the window in your bathroom that gives him a view of your nightly ritual. The way you lather yourself in expensive lotions so carefully… he needs it to be his hands that cascade down your naked curves, reaching places you can’t seem to. A man only has so much restraint, and with you? His patience is wearing thin.

Especially after tonight, he watched as your fingers rammed in and out of your aching cunt, how you couldn’t seem to make yourself cum no matter how hard you tried. Humping your little cunny on your pillow wasn’t cutting it either. That’s why he decided; if he wants something, he’ll simply take it.

It’s the late hours of the night, maybe even the early hours of the morning, but for all he cares you’re fast asleep. Draped in your bedding like the princess you are, bare legs shining against the light of the moon. Law could already feel himself getting hard, your tank top did little to cover your exposed chest. Underwear showcasing a damp spot from how you worked yourself up earlier.

No worries, he’ll take care of it and you. You’re beautiful he thinks, he’ll rob more from you than just some petty belongings. He didn’t even notice how his hand had involuntary began palming himself as he watched you in your own room, need clouding his judgement as soft whines fell from your lips. Tits jostling around as you tossed and turned. He walks over to your side of the bed, kneading your breast and then tugging at your nipple as you lean into his touch. They harden at his ministrations and he groans.

“Naughty girl… having wet dreams are we?” You’re so soft and pliant in his hands, breasts warm as he plays with you. He grins to himself when he pulls a meek mewl from your plush lips. “Bet you feel good baby,” he says as if he knows anything about you. His spare hand finds his own rock hard member. Unbuckling his pants as his appendage traverses down your torso. He has you flat on your back, helping spread your legs while inching his form between them slowly. Following the inhale and exhale of your form as he arranges himself.

He’s pleasantly surprised you haven’t woken up just yet, something sick in his head makes him want to fuck you so good you’ll be begging him to make you squirt. Your body will tell him exactly what he needs to know, evident by how much wetter you’re getting already. “Made me so horny all week, it’s your fault y’know. I’m just takin what’s owed to me…” that’s what he tells himself, but he knows it’s wrong. That’s partly what’s making it so tantalizing for him.

He towers over you, almost not wanting to move and spoil his own splendor, you look so beautiful like this. So comfortable in your sleep, but another thought tells him to fuck that sweet face off of you, to give you something to cry about.

Your arms are splayed on either side of you as he kneels between your legs, putting two fingers on your clothed slit. It makes him even harder feeling the dampness accumulating, but you stir and he pulls his hand away. “Shhh, still,” he says as if you could hear him. Instead he begins to pull your panties down your thighs, eyeing the string of slick that connects you to your underwear. He almost moans at the sight, “fuckkk, what am I gonna do with you.”

Unlucky for you that you live alone right now, but it’s very lucky for him. He can’t bear the thought of waiting to fuck your hole any longer. It’s been gnawing at him all week— now that he’s face to face with it— he can’t help himself. Law wishes he had more control than this, more time to savor your innocent form but the ache in his cock says he needs to act now.

He knows it’ll wake you up, and he knows you’ll be scared; but he’ll prove to you he knows what he’s doing. “Dumb slut gettin wet in your sleep, look at ya drippin all over your own sheets.” Law tugs his shirt between his teeth as he pumps his leaking tip, reminding himself to inch inside you delicately instead of all at once.

He loses it, the second your cute cunt wraps around his tip he fucks you to the hilt. You wake up wincing trying to figure out what the hell was going on and he immediately grabs your wrists, pinning them above your head. “Calm down, shhh hey hey, I’ll only get as rough as I need to be.” He felt the way you clenched around him as he slid in, you must like pain.

Oh and don’t even get him started on that look you’re giving him, like a deer in headlights as you babble about how you’ll give him anything he wants if he stops. “I just want you,” your body goes limp when he says this; can’t even free your hands as he starts to fuck his length in and out of your abused and defiled cunt.

He can’t stand to see you sad, he’ll just have to make you feel good enough to stop yammering on about things that don’t matter right now. That’s why he lets go of your wrists, pulling your knees up to his shoulders as he splits you in two. Tears of frustration and embarrassment cascading down your pretty face. “Awww, don’t cry. It’ll just make me fuck you even harder bunny.”

You’ll never forget those eyes, the ones that glow gold as he kisses the inside of your thighs, possessively marking what isn’t his. You can’t help the way that you moan as the tip of his cock reaches your cervix with each repetition of his hips.

“See, knew you’d like it. You’re squeezing me so tight,” he spits out between his own grunts. You can’t stand the fact he’s proving himself right. His cock shouldn’t be making you so submissive so you turn your head away from him.

He slaps you for being defiant, but his strokes into your drooling warmth never letting up. “Look at me, tell me you love it.” And yet again you clench around him like a little painslut, he adores it.

When you don’t answer him he leans over you, angling his hips deeper into your body as he fucks you up the bed. Your tummy bulging from each rough thrust as your eyes begin to roll back. “I said, tell me you fucking love it whore,” another slap to your other face. Causing your cheeks to heat up from the contact.

You can’t even begin to think clearly; whether it be from fear, from how you’re getting fucked stupid by a man you didn’t know, or from how turned on you are. It’s sick and disgusting and all you can do is cry and profess, “love it, I- I love it.”

“Atta girl,” his large hand wraps around your throat as he drills you harder, hips rolling in and out of your pussy as you grow wetter and wetter. “My hole to fuck,” he tells you, dangerously pressing down even further on your neck as your legs begin to wrap around his torso.

“Fu— fuck gonna,” you rasp out, but he can already tell. His eyes transfixed on your tiny pussy that’s currently clinging to his cock like you need him more than oxygen.

He slaps the back of your thigh, sliding two of his fingers in your mouth to prevent you from screaming any further. “Cum for me bunny, go on,” and there’s that shit eating grin of his. The one that lets him know he’s won as you moan and swirl your tongue around his fingers like a trained pet. “Look at you creamin’ for me. What a good girl.”

Your chest is heaving, face sticky with tears that can’t seem to stop. Vision blurring in and out as this man continues to fuck you senseless. Your body simply limp as he moves you according to his will.

He flips you over, not caring if you have time to come down or adjust before he’s sliding himself back in you as if he belongs there. “Cry for me painslut, cmon.”

He berates your backside in swings of his large palm against your sensitive skin. Causing you to scream into the bedding as your mind shatters into pieces. The only reason you haven’t collapsed into the sheets is because he’s the one holding you up like you weigh nothing to him, ushering the full reality of what’s happening.

You’re nothing but a slick and warm hole to be used, he makes sure to remind you of that as he presses the back of your neck deeper into the plush blankets. “Gonna fuck you full bunny, don’t waste any of it or I’ll have to come back and fill you again.”

Your body jostles in accordance with his punctuated thrusts, carving your walls to fit his cock. You’re a whining, sticky, drooling mess and your dumb cunt only continue to flutter around him. “You want that? Want me to fuck a baby in you?” He presses his body weight into you, spreading your legs apart with his knees as he grinds into your cunt. It’s sick, he’s mocking you, his body moves like he’s making love to you and that’s not what this is at all.

But, he feels so fucking good and with the way he’s degrading you. That deep voice of his, it only makes you want him more.

You feel disgusting and humiliated by him and all he does is coo at you like you’re a helpless little bunny. “Shh, just take it.“ He has your hair in his hands as he forces himself inside you. Each and every inch of his fat length ripping you apart. You feel yourself cumming around him again as you whine and claw at the sheets desperately trying to run as he fucks you stupid.

“Oh fuck— you’re so dirty, cummin’ all ahh- over me,” you’re so warm and tight it’s making him lose it. Watching you could never compare to fucking you raw. He bites and licks at your neck to silence himself as his balls start to constrict, “pussy’s milking me. Fuck you’re so good.” His words should make you feel good as he praises you, but it’s nothing but filth as you feel him release his hot load. Bucking his hips faster and faster to fill you full to the brim. He bites hard enough to draw blood as a reminder that he can and will come back to take exactly from you what he desires.

Enjoy? Reblog & click here 2 see more!

[jaylver]

GUYS MY AGE — S.JY

synopsis: dating guys your age almost all your life has got you sick and tired and most definitely deprived of being treated well. that was until you met an older guy at a club one night, not knowing it would soon develop into something more.

pairings: non-idol!jake x afab!reader

genre: strangers to lovers, romance, implied age difference, jake is aged up (everyone is legal aged!!!)

warning(s): profanities, drinking, mild suggestiveness (no smut)

wc: 1473

a/n: hi 😘 currently i'm still figuring out my next long fics and stuff so here's some drabbles that i fortunately squeeze out of my brain. i realised i don't have many jake fics despite him being bias 😭 i'm sorry for that </3 so here's one greatly inspired by hey violet's guys my age 💓 + my current fav jake pics. hope you enjoy this one! please leave a feedback and reblogs are appreciated!

masterlist | © jaylver 2023 all rights reserved

Going out to a party shouldn’t be a bad idea, right?

Maybe the first mistake was agreeing to an invite from your friends to a random party in the club, believing their claims that you should put yourself out there more after your break up. As much as you hate to admit it, they weren’t exactly wrong, especially when you stay cooped up in your room all day.

It has been months since the break up and you haven’t seen him since then. All because he was immature and didn’t want to grow up, which prompted the imminent break up. Well, there you were now, by your friends in a club you were unfamiliar with, dressed in something low-cut that they had picked out, and it surely worked out as you were gaining attention from people around.

A few drinks in later, you were starting to loosen up, feeling the need to dance and fuck around more. So, that was exactly what you did. 

Stumbling through the crowd and getting on the dancefloor was already tiring, but somehow that wasn’t stopping you from anything. The dim lights and loud music completely made you unaware that someone was approaching from behind, until you felt a presence close to your back and you spun around. 

Wow.

Despite the fact that it was hard to make out his face entirely, something about him and his aura screamed hotness. You could still tell how he looked vaguely. Prominent cheekbones, hair styled up, alluring eyes and the key point of it all, his lips.

From the looks of it, he doesn't seem to be your age either. He was most definitely older. Adding to the spice of it all, he seemed expensive. Hell, the cologne he wore alone smelled like something out of your budget.

Dressed in a simple button up, the chains and rings decked out on him simply added to his attractiveness. Gosh, he was the opposite of your ex. Now that you know, guys your age only disappoint you, so what's stopping you from having fun this one time?

Okay, so you weren’t about to get yourself a restraining order either. He was just too irresistible.  Although you were screaming at yourself internally, you held yourself back, instead, you let him come to you. And boy, he definitely did. 

Almost too naturally and smoothly, he moved closer to you, snaking an arm around your waist while you threw your arms around his neck. You didn’t say anything and he only took it as a sign to continue. 

“Hey,” he said by your ear, miraculously loud enough for you to hear. “I’m Jake,”

Usually, you might've thought it was lame, but maybe it was your semi-drunken state or simply his pretty face that gave you a green pass.

"Hi," you answered back rather meekly. "I'm Y/N,"

"Y/N," he echoed, eyes glinting in the dark. "Want to get out of here?"

Crazily and insanely you were for following him to his car, letting him drive you to an abandoned spot and sneak to the backseat. It was probably the Aussie accent and blond hair that got you. 

It didn't take long before you let him kiss you, feeling the flames bursting in your abdomen. The way he kissed was deep and feverish; dirty but gentle enough. Slowly, you felt his hand trace up your thighs and it made the hairs on your skin stand. 

You had to admit, you've never felt this way with your ex before. From the kiss to the touches, it was different. 

Guys your age don't know how to touch you.

The night eventually ended late but still, he went out of his way to drop you home, watching you get in safely before driving off. In a daze, you thought that was it, your potential lover was gone, but then you felt an uncomfortable prickly feeling in your chest area.

Reaching into your bra, you pulled out a piece of paper. One that had been slipped in discreetly moments ago when you were completely unaware.

Text/call me ;)

xx-xxxxxxx 

— Jake Sim

That was exactly what you did the next day. Even if it took you half a day and lots of pacing across your room, you managed to work up the guts to text him. Biting your nails in anxiety until his reply appeared. 

Luckily, he was a nice guy who was equally humourous over text. 

It wasn't long before you started calling each other. From one phone call turned into frequent calls that eventually included facetimes. 

Soon, this thing going on between you two progressed rather quickly but steadily. Him asking you out on a date was inevitable and you gladly let him take you out on one. 

It might've been a simple dinner that allowed you and him to get to know one another more, but throughout the whole night, he was nothing but a gentleman. First, it was him opening the car door for you that shocked you. No one has done this for you, your ex doesn't even have his own car to begin with. Then, it was him letting you hold his arm when going up staircases since you were in heels. Lastly, he even paid for dinner when you were against it, yet he didn't want to listen to your arguments.

This treatment was a little foreign to you, because simply, guys your age don't know how to treat you.

Days turned into months and you two naturally got closer, too close. Jake eventually asked you to be his girlfriend, to which you accepted and he even brought you out to celebrate, making sure to attack you with kisses while he was at it.

Despite being busy with work, he always made time for you. Tight schedules? He'd loosen some time up in between for you. Overtime in the office and not getting dinner together? He'd call you just to eat together over the screen. If there was one thing about Jake, it would be him getting clingy and missing you loads.

Him always going out of his way for you made you surprised even though you had been together for almost a year. It was his consideration and effort that got you soft for him. 

He wasn't like your ex. Not at all. He was completely unlike the people from your past. In a good way of course.

It was a shame. Guys your age don't know how to keep you or love you good.

The time has come where you wanted Jake to meet your parents, especially since you've already met his.

It was unfortunate that his schedule kept clashing and your mother has been on your wits end trying to get a glimpse of the guy you've been telling her about. But it was what it was and you could only tell her to be patient.

You were at home that day instead of staying over at his place, however, you were still texting Jake as per usual.

jakey: i'm omw to meet up w a business partner! i'm not sure when i'll be a back but don't stay up too late waiting, okay?

you: alrightt :( i'm over at my parents now. remember to eat and don't skip meals!!!!

jakey: yes yes ma'am. i'll let you know once the meeting is over, kay?

you: sure, drive safe!

You couldn't help but miss him at times, allowing him to fill your thoughts as you helped your mother set the table, not noticing an extra set of utensils placed. 

The usual business around the house around dinner hasn't changed over time. Even when the doorbell had rang, you didn't notice it at first, until it came the second, catching you off guard. You placed down the things in your hands, shuffling awkwardly to the door after calling out for your parents before opening it. 

"Jake?"

"Baby?"

What was Jake doing at the doorstep of your home? You promised to bring him over but wasn't he … busy?

"What do you mean 'baby'?" There came your father's voice, confusion laced in his tone.

"Mr L/N," Jake greeted stiffly, then the realisation dawned in his eyes. The last names, the similar features. Oh God.

"What are you doing here?" You ignored your surroundings, hissing in panic to Jake.

"F–for my business meeting," 

"Is he the guy you're dating?" Your father seemed to have also pieced it together, shock and bewilderment on his face as your mother joined his side.

"You're dating an older guy?"

There's going to be a whole explanation needed over dinner before any business is discussed.

Maybe Jake might've been an older guy but he was way more than that. He knew how to treat you, touch you, love you. Unlike guys your age.

Now you know, you're never going back.

( © jaylver all rights reserved. do NOT copy, plagiarise or edit my work and repost whatsoever. once discovered will be exposed and blacklisted. )

☆ permanent taglist (open):

@silentkarnival @strvlveera @freshsaladbowl @bejewelledgirl @fakeuwus @yenqa @hsgwrld

[ordowrites]

Yandere! Diluc being reader's secret admirer. Sending them lots incredibly expensive gifts, silently hoping that they'll eventually realize that he's the one who's been sending them. How would he feel when they guess wrong?

cw: yandere, unhealthy relationships, obsessive and possessive behaviors, mdni, minors do not interact, stalking, delusional behaviors, implied fantasy kidnapping. the writer does not condone anything that happens in this fic. mild not sfw. dark conent. gender neutral reader, but it's mentioned they wear dresses.

sorry for the wait!

He would be hurt, to say the least - but he would hide it under a facade of a forced smile and a weak, "...I see." Anonymous gifts are anonymous for a reason but he can't help but feel as if you'd stabbed him in the gut for that.

"Are you sure it was him though?" he'd ask, doing his best to remain the proud gentleman that he is - his eyes falling on your guys' topic of conversation.

"Who else would it be? They know all the things that I like. Being my closest friend and all." You answer as if it were so obvious to everyone but him. "But what's weird is that they were confused when I thanked them for that summer dress that's fashionable in Fontaine right now."

Ah yes, that dress - he hates that dress but you sighed so longingly over it that he had to splurge just a bit for you. It's too revealing for someone like you - shows too much skin, it's too low cut, it's white and you have a hydro vision.

"How odd." he mumbles as he makes your drinks.

But then he'd imagined how pretty you would look - your skin flushed a soft red from being in the sun, how the white compliments everything, how lovely you'd look in the lace. And he couldn't resist anymore when his imagination went so far as to -

He shakes his head, clearing his mind.

The problem is, he knows that if you knew it was Diluc himself buying you these presents, you would turn them down in a heartbeat. Because you don't view him that way, you two broke up four months ago and he still thinks about it.

He considers telling you, knowing full well that you won't like what he says - knowing full well that you would insist on returning each and every gift that he'd gotten you and finally cut him from your life. So, instead, he just forces a smile while his overactive imagination goes into overtime.

Maybe one day he'll be able to hand you your presents personally - and you'll give him that bright, happy smile you used to give him when he was courting you.

"Green is not a good color on you." Kaeya says from his spot at the counter. "I don't see why you can't tell them the truth."

"We broke up four months ago," he grits out. "They said they were willing to give me a chance at friendship."

"Hm. And I suppose buying them expensive things is part of that? They never struck me as greedy or materialistic." The arguments you and Diluc had about boundaries were ones to not be forgotten - if you even sighed over something, he'd buy it for you and first, it was nice and it made you happy and eventually, it started to upset you. He doesn't know why, you tried to tell him it's because he'd go overboard and something about being "controlling". Really, an ugly word to say when he was trying to help.

"They don't know it's me." He finally says.

Kaeya clicks his tongue and shakes his head. Diluc knows how he sounds, he is aware of it - but Kaeya won't interfere.

For now, Diluc has to do his best to ignore the growing agony of your rejection and quell the envy that grows inside of him - he longs to march over to your table and correct you, to pull you out of your seat and away from everyone and keep you somewhere safe and where he can spoil you properly. And when he's able to do that, you two can have a nice, long discussion on how hurt he felt and how he just wants to help you, and that he hopes you could just give him another chance.

[ginnsbaker]

fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (2/?)

Part summary: Leigh goes on a double date with Jules. You reach a tipping point with Leigh's relentless hostility towards you.

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 5,072 | Warnings/Tags: None for now... smut eventually, enemies to lovers A/N: So... this turned into more than a two-shot. But it will still be a mini-series. It's also kinda slow burn for a mini series (lol). Also, this isn't canon compliant at all. Meaning, I took a lot of liberties and added stuff to Leigh and Matt's relationship, and it doesn't follow the timeline of the show. With that said, enjoy!

Masterlist | Part I | Next Part

-

The vet bills hit Leigh's bank account way harder than she’s willing to admit. 

She knew taking care of pets could get pricey, but she thought that was just for those on their last leg, like Matt's dog, Rogue. Facing those steep costs made her think twice about turning down Drew's offer a while back to bring back her advice column. So, she calls him up as soon as she pays up a quarter of the charges on her credit card for Visitor's medical expenses.

Drew answers on the second ring. “Hey Leigh, what's up?”

Leigh doesn’t beat around the bush. She never has to with her best friend. “Can we meet at the cafe? I need to talk to you about something.”

“Sure. Be there in 20,” Drew replies right away.

The coffee shop they frequent is a small local business that specializes in cold brews. Leigh’s favorite thing about it is not the coffee though, but its interior: mismatched chairs, bookshelves lining the wall, and the temperature that’s always just right. Leigh arrives first, securing their favorite table near the window. Drew walks in a few minutes later, coffee already in hand, and greets her with a warm smile.

“Okay, spill. What's going on?” Drew asks as he takes a seat.

“I've been thinking... about the column. I was wrong to turn it down. I want back in.”

The look of utter surprise on his face tells Leigh this was the last thing he expected. She senses his response won't be a straightforward yes.

“I'd be thrilled to have you back, Leigh, I really would—”

“But?” Leigh cuts in. She doesn’t need to hear a bullshit ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ excuse. She wishes Drew would just be as direct with her as she is with him.

Drew lets out a sigh. Under different circumstances, saying no to Leigh would be as easy as declining an upsell from a McDonald's cashier. However, ever since Leigh became a widow, rejecting her feels significantly harder, even though he's well aware that Leigh values honesty over pity.

“But the thing is, the new writer’s really hitting it off with our audience. She's had a string of articles go viral lately.”

Leigh doesn’t look at all impressed by that. “Yeah, I heard.”

Personally, Drew’s not a fan of the new writer's style, and honestly, he still prefers Leigh. It would just be a hard sell if he brought this up to management. As the saying goes: if it ain't broke, don't fix it.

“Look, I still think you have a unique voice. You know I’d still take advice from you over the new girl.”

Leigh scoffs a little at that, shaking her head. Drew rolls his eyes; it’s typical of Leigh to never know how to take a compliment. He continues, “How would you feel about guest writing? Maybe for the first couple of weeks, we could find a way to incorporate your insights into a series or a special feature.”

It’s not what she hoped for, but she recognizes the olive branch for what it is.

And she’ll take it. 

“I... yeah, I think that could work, Drew. I've got a ton of new ideas, and this... this could be great,” Leigh says. “Uhm, thanks.”

Drew grins. “I thought you'd like that. Let's kick off with a couple of guest pieces, see how it goes.”

Leigh half-heartedly returns his enthusiasm just as her order of cheeseburger and affogato are served.

“Anything new with you?” Drew asks, his voice taking on that tone he reserves for the really good gossip. Knowing Drew's helping her out, Leigh figures a little life update wouldn't hurt as a form of thanks.

That update is about you. And the moment Leigh spills the beans, Drew's face lights up like a Christmas tree. But his excitement fizzles out just as fast when he figures out Leigh's got nothing scandalous to say. All she mentions is how you might've missed the mark by not doing your homework on the guy you were seeing.

“What’s your plan then?”

“Seems like everyone’s asking me that,” Leigh says flatly.

“You took your stray to her place, right? So, there must be some sort of plan. I mean, you could've gone to any other vet if you wanted to avoid her.”

“Yeah, but her clinic's location is so convenient, and I didn't want to shrink my world just for her.”

Drew hums in response. Leigh admits she’s been unusually passive with you. Normally, she'd confront issues head-on, but even almost half a year later, she still hasn’t fully processed Matt’s death, let alone his cheating. She's been trying a new tactic, almost as if by ignoring her problems, she hopes they'll fade away on their own. She seems to be betting on the idea that if she pretends long enough, maybe one day she'll wake up and find those issues have lost their grip on her. 

“I don’t know Leigh, the whole thing’s weird,” Drew says, scrunching up his face a bit.

“It’s not like I’m trying to make a friend or enemy out of her,” Leigh replies with a shrug. “I’m just using her services as a doctor, and she’s getting paid for it. That’s all there is to it.”

“Oh, so that’s why you need your old job back. She’s draining your purse,” he says, smirking as he adds, “Bitch.”

“You don’t have to call her that,” Leigh chides, though the corner of her mouth twitches in amusement. Deep down, she understands the twisted satisfaction in disliking someone without having to justify it.

“The funniest thing that can happen is if you two actually end up being friends,” Drew quips, picking up an accidental curly from Leigh’s plate.

Leigh finds that scenario hard to imagine, almost impossible. She doesn’t think she can be friends with someone Matt liked more than her.

-

Leigh is hunched over her laptop, with sheets of paper and colorful markers spread out on the table, meticulously designing missing dog posters for Visitor.

Jules, leaning against the doorframe with a mug of coffee in hand, watches Leigh for a moment before speaking up. “You know, you should've done that the second you decided to take Visitor in.”

Leigh doesn't look up from her screen. “His leg needed to be taken care of first,” she reasons.

Jules rolls her eyes, pushing off from the doorframe to come closer. “And? How did it go at the clinic?”

Leigh pauses, then lets out an exaggerated sigh. “I already told you about the tests Visitor had to go through. They said he’ll be fine.”

“I mean with the doctor, not the patient,” Jules clarifies with a smirk.

There's a beat of silence before Leigh quips, “No cat fights happened, I promise,” her eyes going back to her laptop.

“Any chance she knocked off a bit of the bill?” Jules asks, moving to sit behind Leigh to take a peek of her work. It looks like an 8th grader’s art project, but she bites back any criticisms.

“Nope.”

“Told you she’s a bitch,” Jules murmurs under her breath.

“It's not like anyone's doing charity work these days, especially not in this economy,” Leigh argues weakly.

“Yeah, right. Like she needs your money, Leigh. Veterinarians are loaded, if you didn’t know.”

“If you say so.”

Jules decides to drop the subject, and Leigh can hear her shuffling and thinking behind her.  

“Hey, there's something I've been wanting to ask you. Don't get mad, okay?”

“Prefacing like that? I'm bracing myself to be utterly scandalized,” Leigh says before smiling and sneaking a glance at Jules.

“Great, you’re cracking jokes again. That’s a good sign,” Jules deadpans but a second later, she’s smiling too. 

“Ask away,” Leigh prods.

Jules takes a deep breath, and then:

“Do you think you’re ready to meet someone new?”

Leigh suddenly stops, her fingers just hanging there above the keyboard, unsure of what to do next. What’s the protocol here? If three months is usually the cooling period after a break-up before one can start dating other people, then what's the deal when it's about a husband who's not only passed away but was also cheating? How does that work?

Before Leigh can come up with an answer, she realizes she's already saying no.

Jules groans. “Come on, it's just a double date. It'll be fun. You and me and—”

“I’m really not in the mood to meet other people, Jules.”

Jules cuts in, laying it on thick. “Leigh, seriously, when was the last time you went out and had a little fun? You're practically turning into a recluse. I won't stand by and watch my sister morph into the neighborhood's infamous dog lady.”

“Dog lady? Really?”

“I'm just saying, it's either try something new or start knitting dog sweaters for fun. Your choice.”

Jules can be a real pest sometimes; it’s an endearing quality except when they seem ready to go for each other's throats.

“You think you’re hilarious, don’t you?” Leigh rests her chin on her hand, seriously considering the invitation for a second. “I don’t know how to meet people, Jules. I stopped meeting people when I met Matt. He was my entire world, you know?”

Jules softens, throwing her arms around Leigh’s shoulders. “I know. And I wouldn't push if I didn't think it could be good for you. Plus, I promise, if it's awful, I'll personally escort you out and we can ditch them for ice cream. How's that?”

Leigh senses that Jules won't give up until she gets a yes, so she decides to concede just this time and get it over with.

“Okay, okay, you win. I'll go on your stupid double date. But if this ends in disaster, you're buying me the biggest tub of ice cream you can find,” Leigh says, shrugging her sister off her.

Jules pumps her fist in victory. “Deal! You won't regret this, Leigh. And who knows? It might actually be fun.”

-

The double date goes surprisingly smoothly, except for the occasional touches coming from her date. To be fair, they are typical for a date and are executed with respect. However, for some reason, Leigh finds herself unusually conscious of every physical contact, making her anxious to move things along and call it a night.

As they step out of the restaurant, Leigh mentally scrambles to remember her date's name. She's bracing for the goodbyes, ready to retreat into the comfort of her room, when Tommy, Jules' girlfriend, suggests they cap the night off at a new bar. It turns out Leigh's date has an investment in the place. He jumps at the suggestion, clearly eager to flaunt this detail, perhaps hoping to impress her.

He does earn a sincere, “That’s cool,” from Leigh, just before she slides into the backseat of his car. Tommy quickly calls dibs on the front seat, leaving the siblings sitting next to each other in the back.

The new bar clearly wants to be the town’s next hotspot, but it seems to be trying too hard. It's got this odd vibe where you're not sure if you should be dancing or just looking around, wondering what it really wants you to do. But Leigh agreed to this, and she won’t embarrass Jules by ditching. 

“Can I get you something to drink?”

She stiffens a bit as he draws near, the heat of Patrick's breath—Jules had reminded her of his name during the car ride—making her uncomfortably aware of how close he is. She shifts, trying to put a polite distance between them without seeming too obvious about it. “Um, just a gin and tonic, please,” she says.

She practically sighs in relief as Patrick heads off to order, her eyes darting around the bar. The 90s R&B background gets her head bopping, but all she’s thinking about is her couch and an episode of Parks and Recreation waiting for her at home. Jules and Tommy are in their own little world, giggling and looking all cozy. Leigh never thought she could feel like a third wheel on a double date.

Patrick is taking his time, and when Leigh cranes her neck to peer over the bar, she catches him striking up a conversation with a blonde. Her eyes narrow into slits as she watches, both of them obviously charmed by the other as Patrick laughs at something she said, enjoying himself in a way he hadn’t all night. 

Leigh feels a prick of irritation. Sure, she hasn’t been giving him the time of his life, but they’re still on a date. Isn’t there some unwritten rule about not flirting with other people when you're supposed to be with someone?

She waits a bit longer, hoping Patrick would remember he was supposed to be getting her a drink and come back. However, he hasn't moved an inch from his spot and is even passing Leigh's drink to the woman as they keep chatting. Leigh’s mind races. She knows she isn’t into Patrick, has been giving him nothing but the bare minimum, yet she can't shake off the feeling of being slighted. It's not like she wanted his undivided attention, but this... this just seems rude.

She catches Jules looking at her, a questioning eyebrow raised. Leigh just shrugs, not sure how to explain the jumble of feelings she's experiencing without sounding petty or jealous. 

When Patrick finally comes back with her drink, the mood has already turned sour for Leigh. She musters a polite smile, accepts the gin and tonic with a thank you, but then heads to the bar on her own without saying anything more. At this point, she's indifferent to what Patrick, Tommy, or Jules might think or say of her; she's finished playing nice for the day. 

Leigh slams her gin and tonic like it's water, the sting barely registering. She signals for another without missing a beat and strangers start sliding over drinks with cheeky grins. She toasts to nothing, to no one, letting the conversations slip away before they can get even one word out.

By drink number six—or was it seven?—everything's spinning, laughter too loud, lights too bright. Leigh’s clinging to the bar for dear life when she thinks she sees you. But as quickly as the figure appears, it's lost again, leaving her questioning her ability to handle her alcohol. Back in her college days, Leigh could hold her liquor like a champ, thanks to endless nights of partying. But now, staring down at her drink, she realizes she might've overestimated her current tolerance. The alcohol hits harder than she remembers, making her head swim more than she'd like to admit. It's been a while since she's gone this hard, and her body isn't shy about reminding her.

The worst part of it though is why, of all the faces her mind could conjure up, it's choosing yours.

Just as she tries to shake off the bizarre vision, your face appears again, this time on the dance floor, writhing in a sea of thick, sweating bodies. You're dancing closely with a man, and it’s—

It’s Matt. 

Leigh blinks rapidly, attempting to dispel the hallucination because it's impossible; Matt is dead—this can't be real. 

But the image of you and Matt refuses to go away. She continues to see the way your grind against him, the way you caress his face as you pull it further into your neck. Anger surges through her, hot and uncontrollable, and before she knows it, her last shot of tequila crashes to the floor. Before the bartender or anyone else can even figure out what's happening, Leigh storms through the crowd, pushing her way to what she believes is you and her husband, and shoves the couple hard. The moment she does it, the fog in her brain finally clears.

She saw wrong. They’re just a random couple, looking as shocked as she feels mortified.

Humiliated and more drunk than she's willing to admit, Leigh doesn't stick around to apologize. Tears start to well up as she pushes through the crowd, dodging empty faces while Jules' calls fade into the background. She shoves through the last of the mob, bursts through the doors into the night, and freedom feels just a breath away. But that breath catches, twists into a violent churn in her gut, and she can barely stagger a few desperate steps away from the entrance before her knees are on the cold pavement, and she’s spilling out onto the ground in front of her. A few groans of disgusts from the people around her doesn’t register as she succumbs to the consequences of her indulgence. Shortly after, she remembers why she’s cut back on alcohol, apart from the fact that Matt abhors it, turns him off more than anything.

“Leigh?”

The voice is familiar, even if she’s heard it only a few times. Her head's spinning as she looks up, the chilly air slapping her face after the stuffiness of the club. She blinks, trying to clear the blur of tears and the aftereffects of one too many drinks, squinting at the figure stepping out from under the streetlights.

Your face, more clearly now under the lamp post is kind of sobering her up a bit.

So, were you actually there in the club, or is Leigh so haunted by thoughts of you and Matt—thoughts she's tried so hard to ignore and bury—that she managed to conjure you as a way to finally confront her true feelings about the entire situation? It’s always the battles with herself she never wins.

“Hey, you alright?” you ask, lowering yourself to get a better look at her but keeping back a bit—just enough space for her to catch her breath or in case she needs to throw up again.

Leigh doesn't respond, doesn't even seem to see you're there. You rummage through your crossbody bag, pulling out some wet wipes and offering them to her. She still doesn't look up, but grabs what you’re offering with a little force. 

She proceeds to wipe her mouth and then her entire face as you continue talking, words tumbling out in a nervous stream.

“I saw you back there, in the club. I wasn't sure if I should come up to you, you know, with everything that's happened... with me being... well, the person I am in all of this,” you explain softly. “And then I saw what happened, how upset you got. Sorry I followed you here, I…I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

Leigh abruptly gets to her feet, and you instinctively step back, giving her more room than probably needed.

“Why?” Leigh fires at you, her tone so icy it almost makes you regret coming after her. You're taken aback, eyebrows scrunching up in confusion. 

Why what?

“Why do you even care?” she clarifies, eyeing you as if you're the densest person on the planet.

You grasp for something, anything that sounds like you're not just here out of guilt. “Anyone who knows you would be worried,” you say before you can think twice about what it could mean.

Leigh's laugh is sharp, cutting. “You don't know me,” she throws back.

“Yeah, I don’t,” you mumble to yourself. You wish you did, so you could fix this.

Leigh’s anger doesn’t let up. “You know what I think? You're playing the good Samaritan to scrub off your guilt. But not knowing Matt was married? That's on you. I bet you never asked too many questions because you wanted him to be Mr. Perfect—single, ready to mingle, the dream guy.”

Opening your mouth to argue, you find yourself at a loss. Leigh’s not entirely wrong. With Matt, you were in a bubble, caught up in the thrill of meeting someone who seemed so right, so honest. You clung to his every word, wanting to believe in this image of him you'd built up. 

The truth is, you never wanted to meet Leigh Shaw; you wanted to believe Matt's only fault was how he ended things with you, by disappearing.

But before you can admit to all of that, Leigh is already storming off. You think about chasing after her, but she spins around so fast at your footsteps, shooting you a threatening look and a low, “Stop following me,” that nails you to the ground. 

You keep staring at the spot she disappeared from, long after she's gone, wondering why Matt felt the need to find love elsewhere.

-

Leigh goes home, but not to an empty house. The second she opens the door, Visitor bounds into her arms, full of wiggles and wet nose kisses. Her mom's off somewhere, doing who knows what—Leigh's stopped trying to figure out where or why. Meanwhile, her phone buzzes with a string of voicemails from Jules, but Leigh's not in the mood to dive into those just yet. She decides they can wait till morning, along with the other missed calls and unread messages from strangers, asking for more information on Visitor.

For now, she peels off her socks and pants, leaving them scattered carelessly up the stairs before passing out on her bed.

-

Visitor’s follow-up check-up rolls around way too quickly for comfort. The moment Leigh steps through the clinic door with the dog in tow, you can practically cut the tension with a knife. Leigh's trying to keep it together, but her attempts at civility are imbued with a coldness that can’t be ignored.

With only a small ‘good morning’ from you and a nod from Leigh, you start the consultation, knowing you’d be doing her a favor if you just get right to it.

“How's Visitor been eating?” you ask as you work your stethoscope. 

“He eats fine,” Leigh drawls.

You nod, jotting down a note before moving on, “And his activity levels? Any changes there?”

Leigh’s response comes laced with sarcasm. 

“Oh, he's just peachy. Running marathons every morning.”

You clear your throat, trying to rein in your mounting annoyance at her childish behavior. “I'm just trying to get a complete picture,” you say.

But Leigh's not having any of it. Her comments grow sharper, her patience thinning, and it's clear she's more interested in taking jabs at you than discussing her dog's health.

Her last sarcastic remark has you drawing the line. “Leigh, you can be upset with me all you want outside of this clinic, but I won't tolerate disrespect while I'm trying to do my job,” you say evenly. “You're welcome to find another vet if you can't keep this professional. I have every right to refuse service if this continues. It's not what I want, but I'm not about to let you treat me any less professionally.”

Leigh goes quiet, yet she keeps her eyes locked on yours, decidedly not backing down. Then, after a tense moment, she mutters a single word, “Sorry.” It's not much, but it's something, and you decide to take it and move on.

“You mentioned something about a blood sample?” Leigh says, steering the conversation back to the reason she came in, and you're all for following her lead on this.

“Yeah, we need to check if his platelets are up and his infections are down, see if the meds are doing their job,” you explain. Then, veering a bit from standard procedure, you add, “Since this is a follow-up visit, I'm going to cut the lab test price in half for you.”

The discount evidently lifts her mood. It's not a perfect truce, but it's enough to get through the examination without any more barbs.

A while later, you're back with Visitor's CBC results in hand. “The infection's gone down, but it's still borderline,” you report, showing her the numbers. “We'll need to keep him on the medication for another week. And I'm adding some multivitamins and a specific diet to his regimen.” 

You scribble down the details, then note at the bottom of the pad about the discount—not just for the lab test, but for the prescriptions too.

Leigh takes the paper, scanning the details before her eyes finally meet yours. “Thank you,” she says, her voice softer than it's been.

“You’re welcome,” you reply with a smile before going back to your notebook, looking deep in thought. 

Leigh feels like you're back to your usual, friendly self. Yet she thinks she prefers the more raw, unfiltered version of you. The version that called her out earlier. These days, she's starving for that kind of honesty. Because having her as your client can’t be all that pleasurable. She's aware of how challenging she's been, and the straightforwardness somehow makes her feel more understood, more seen.

She wishes people would stop seeing her as Leigh: the one with the dead husband.

Then, out of nowhere, she asks, “When did you start working here?”

It's a seemingly insignificant question, yet coming from Leigh, it prompts you to close your notebook and focus entirely on her.

“I—”

“Because a year ago, I remember meeting a different doctor,” Leigh adds, absentmindedly running her fingers through Visitor’s coarse hair as he sleeps on her lap.

“You’ve been here before?”

It’s a painful memory—one that still sometimes brings tears to her eyes whenever it crosses her mind. Back then, the clinic bore a different name, and she and Matt had come together to say goodbye to Rogue.

“I have when it was still called Palm Coast,” she says.

You nod, understanding the context now. “Yeah, that was before my time. I bought this clinic on a whim after spending a few years practicing in Dubai.”

While most would latch onto the tidbit about your intriguing career history, Leigh zeros in on something else entirely, asking directly, “When did Matt start coming here?”

You shift uncomfortably at her question, and Leigh immediately regrets pushing too hard. She’s about to backtrack when you halt her apologies. “It’s okay. I’m open to talking about it, just not here,” you suggest. “How about over coffee?”

Leigh hesitates, then says, “Okay, let me just text my boss that I won't be able to lead the yoga class this morning.”

“It doesn’t have to be now. Tomorrow works,” you say.

Realizing her assumption, Leigh’s cheeks color slightly. “What time?”

Now it's your turn to feel a bit awkward. “Would 7 work? It's the only time I have before the clinic opens.”

“In the morning?” Leigh says again, making sure she heard you right.

You nod sheepishly in reply. 

“Or we could maybe—”

“No, it's okay,” Leigh interrupts quickly. She's usually up before sunrise anyway; the only change would be trimming her morning run a bit. And for a one-time chat to get the answers she's after, she figures she can make such a small sacrifice.

–

“Are you sure you want to return Visitor to his real family?”

True to form, it's Jules who breaks the two-day-long sibling spat. It's usually her who tries to smooth things over with an apology, even on days when Leigh isn't exactly the easiest person to deal with. Her therapist keeps telling her not to always be the one to buckle, especially when she's the one who's been hurt, that Leigh should be the one to step up and make things right for a change. 

But here she is, reaching out first, just like always—because waiting for Leigh to make the first move feels like waiting for snow in July.

“Oh, so you’re talking to me again?” Leigh says as if she's gearing up for another round of conflict rather than welcoming peace.

Jules ignores her and continues, “Have you actually tried to find Visitor's owners, or have you just kinda... kept him because it feels good to have him around?”

“So what if it feels good to have a dog who loves you and is loyal to you?”

Jules shakes her head in a condescending manner, which only serves to irritate Leigh further. As soon as her popcorn is done, she heads out of the kitchen, flops onto the couch, flips on the TV, and kicks her feet up on the coffee table. Jules follows her, opting to stand next to the TV, poised to yank the plug out if necessary.

“Leigh, you do understand that taking care of a dog isn't something to take lightly, right?” Jules starts, but she breaks off when the dog in question trots over, tail wagging, trying to coax Jules into picking him up.

Leigh acts like she hasn't heard a word, her eyes glued to the TV screen.

“I thought you'd learned something from what happened with Rogue—”

That hits a nerve. Leigh's quick to fire back, “Oh, and jumping into a serious relationship is super responsible, right? Especially when staying sober is part of the deal.”

Right after the words leave her mouth, Leigh regrets them deeply. She's painfully aware of Jules' long battle with alcoholism, a struggle that began in college and required more than a couple of tries before Jules could claim any sort of victory over her addiction. Leigh knows it's still a sore subject for Jules, still fighting her demons, making her comment unfairly harsh.

Though the retaliation didn’t come out of nowhere. Leigh caught Jules at the club, discreetly sipping a drink she swore off, and chose to keep quiet then to avoid causing a scene in front of Tommy. She had plans to bring it up later, but then her own slip-up with drinking, bailing on her date, and the fallout with Jules spiraled into one of their nastiest rows in a long while.

“Jules, I’m sorr—”

“Just save it, Leigh.”

Jules heads for the door, her hand clenched tight, barely hanging onto her emotions. Leigh feels the situation slipping further downhill, and she can't just stand back and watch things crumble even more. She's about to chase after Jules when the doorbell rings, stopping both of them cold.

But Jules doesn’t even bother with the door; instead, she veers off, storming upstairs with that telltale slam of her bedroom door echoing down. Leigh sighs, stuck in the aftermath, while Visitor starts barking at the door. Dragging her feet, Leigh heads over to open it, half-expecting another problem but hoping for a distraction.

Leigh definitely wasn't expecting Danny, and seeing him there, she gets the sinking feeling that this storm swirling around her isn’t going to blow over just yet.

[ihavethedreamies]

Pineapple | Jisung

Park Jisung - NCT Dream

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~2.1k

Pairing: Jisung  x AFAB!Reader

Genre: Reader-Insert, Smut, Established Relationship, Porn without Plot

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Swearing, Kissing, Oral (M! & F! Receiving), Sixty-Nine, Overstimulation, Rough Sex, Unprotected Sex (Don’t!!)

Summary: You and your boyfriend wonder if the rumor about eating pineapple is true…

Author's Note: This series was supposed to be of drabbles, but uh…

This is only vaguely based off of Smoothie…I say this because I got the idea for a fruit theme, but past that its unrelated.

PS. I am still low-key in denial that Jisung is as hot as he is now my son is Daddy now

🍉 Mark 🍉

🍇 Renjun 🍇

🍌 Jeno 🍌

🍒 Haechan 🍒

🍑 Jaemin 🍑

🍓 Chenle 🍓

I am cross-posting this on Archive. Please reblog! If you know anyone that would like this or future fics but they aren't on here my name and icon are exactly the same on the other site. Happy reading!

You hummed, looking over your recent purchase. It sat on the counter, mocking you.

"Do you have any idea how to cut it?" Jisung asked from where he stood next to you.

"No…" You sighed in defeat. It was always expensive to buy pineapple precut, probably because it was difficult to prepare, but you loved it. So, you decided to get the full fruit, but you had no idea how to go about cutting it. You had seen different videos in passing, but never focused enough to remember. You could look it up, but that would be admitting total defeat, and you weren't ready for that yet. Your boyfriend's big hands picked up the fruit and held it closer to his face so he could look at it better. He was even less likely to know what to do than you, but it was sweet he was trying.

"Well, start from the top?" He suggested, running his finger over the divot where the stem met the rest. Jisung set it back down and you picked up the knife, starting with a small paring knife so you didn't get hurt. You stabbed it in, the sweet scent hitting both of your noses, making your mouths water. Sawing through the top you are able to pry the top off and you set the stem to the side. Looking down at the yellow flesh inside, you wondered how to get the spiky outside off. You had seen some people pull the pieces apart where the ridges were, but that might take too long.

"Could we just carve the outside off?" Your boyfriend suggested and you nodded.

"Yeah, I think that's for the best." You had wanted to try a hack or something, worried that you would butcher the fruit in the wrong way. He came back with a much bigger knife, the cover still over the blade. Dramatically, you shucked the cover off and held the knife in the air. Carefully and slowly, you begin to saw at the outside to get the peel off. It took forever, and there were still little round pieces of the outside marring the otherwise perfect, yellow flesh. Taking the paring knife back into hand, you carved the little remnants out as Jisung got a bowl for you to put the final product in. You then sliced the cylinder-like body into fours, slicing the woody middle section out, then finishing the cuts. When it was all done, you fingers were tingling a bit from the enzyme the fruit contained. Going to wash your hands, Jisung plucked a piece out and slid it into his mouth.

"Is it a good one?" You asked, drying your hands and he hummed in delight. Picking another piece out, he held it between two fingers out to you. He turned a bit pink when you took it straight from him with your mouth. Not nearly as bad as when you first got together, your boyfriend still got a little shy or flustered from your acts of affection. You both went to the couch then to keep watching the drama you had been going through, the bowl of fruit between the two of you. After the first few pieces, you ended up getting a fork to use so your fingers wouldn't tingle too badly. It seemed your tolerance for the stinging juice of the fruit was higher than Jisung's because he stopped every so often, wiggling his tongue between his lips to try and calm the burn.

"How do you eat so much of that stuff?" He asked as you popped another yellow piece in your mouth.

"I like sour stuff, so it’s a similar feeling."

"Why does it do that anyway?"

"Some kind of enzyme or something. They put it in meat tenderizer." You explained while you chewed, the food muffling your voice a bit.

"Huh."

"Supposedly it also makes you…taste sweeter." You tried to word it a little secretly. Your boyfriend was too precious, not really understanding innuendos or dirty jokes without an explanation.

"Like, your saliva?"

"Well, I mean, kind of. It obviously does that. I meant…other stuff."

"Your sweat?"

"Cum, Jisung. It makes your cum taste sweet. Supposedly." You decided to be straight forward with it. You cast him a glance to see his reaction. His cheeks were a tinge pink, but he wasn't gaping like you expected, or horribly flushed.

"How would that work?" You rolled your eyes, his thought process was really something else.

"You know, I don't know. I think that's why it’s just like a rumor, it’s not proven." You scratched your cheek.

"We could test it out…" You suggested playfully about half an hour later, after all the pineapple had been eaten.

"Test what out?" He cast you a quick look, before going back to the show. He had rested back onto the couch, his foot up on the cushion, so his knee was at his chest. You were rested against his other side, resting your head on his shoulder, his arm around yours. His big hand was playing with the string of your hoodie, wrapping the braided yarn around his long fingers.

"If pineapple makes you sweeter…" You tried to keep your tone neutral. Jisung immediately paused the TV, pulling back from you to turn and look at you. Forcing yourself to meet his gaze, he seemed more shocked then embarrassed, but his face shifted. You were expecting red to spread over his cheeks, but he smirked instead.

"Might as well." The TV was fully shut off, and he pulled you a bit closer by the shoulders, leaning in and kissing you. You whined a bit at the intensity, normally he was much softer, but it seemed he wanted to eat your lips and tongue, not just taste them. Your next moan allowed his tongue all the way into your mouth, and they wrapped around each other. He did still taste of the fruit, and so did you, but that was more or less to be expected. Your tongues were still a little tingly from the pineapple, and them rubbing over each other made them tingle more. He hummed deeply when you pulled back, lips still slightly touching as you panted for breath.

"Pretty sweet…" His voice rumbled and you mewled. A cocky smirk spread over his pretty face, the confidence taking your breath away.

"Does it just make you sweet, or me too?"

"Uh, I think both?" You answered and he licked his lips, his tongue hitting yours as well with the motion. Jisung wrapped his big hand around yours, enveloping it, and hauling you off the couch, leading you toward your bedroom. You giggled at his eagerness, his long stride making you basically jog to keep up. Your boyfriend's lips fell to yours again as you both helped each other shed your clothes. You were completely bare when he got impatient and led you to the bed, his pants still on, button undone. You were about to question what he was doing when he laid down.

"Sit." He motioned you toward him and his sudden determination floored you. Swallowing, turning pink yourself, you did as he suggested. It was your turn to flush with embarrassment. When you slowly, wobbling, went to straddle his face, he clicked his tongue, whirling his finger.

"Other way." You did as he asked, facing toward the foot of the bed instead. You realized then what he was getting at. Before you full brought yourself down, you leaned over him, fiddling with his pants and boxers to pull his cock out. Everything about him was big, his hands, his feet, his cock. Right as you wrapped your hand around him, his hands flew to your hips and pulled you onto his face. You yelped as his tongue flicked against your clit, then ran up your folds to your core. Gathering your bearings, you leaned forward so you could wrap your lips around the head of his cock, tongue lapping at his precum. Even if the pineapple thing was true, it would probably take more than an hour to kick in. You didn't mind his taste anyway, so you eagerly bobbed your head, taking ask much of his cock in as you could. Your hands wrapped around the base to get the rest, the angle not right for you taking him into your throat more. You whined when his tongue thrusted in and out of your cunt, the vibration on his dick made his hips jump, the head battering the back of your throat. Trying not to gag around him, his thumb joined his tongue to flick your clit and your thighs twitched around his head. At your long, loud moan as you came yourself, the extra sensation buzzed through his cock, and he came as well. You eagerly swallowed his release, and it might have been a placebo effect, by he did taste sweeter. Cleaning off the rest of his cum from his still half-hard dick, he licked his lips, not able to reach all of your release that covered his face. Shakily, you got off of him and turned around so you could straddle him the other way. He was smirking up at you and you cringed at the sheen on his chin and cheeks that you caused.

"I'm sorry, Ji!" You reached to get a tissue from the nightstand to clean his face, but he took care of it, wiping it off with his arm. You two had switched places it seemed, you were now bashfully and shy, and he was smirking with confidence.

"Was I sweet?" His voice rumbled with a chuckle, and you nodded with a small whine.

"Me?"

"You're always sweet, love." You giggled and he brushed a few stray strands of hair from your brow as you sat over him. He adjusted his position, placing his feet on the bed so his knees were bent. You let him lead you so your cunt sat above his re-hardened cock, then he pressed your hips down so you could start to take him. You shivered, your cunt pulsing around his dick as he sank inside. Not only was he thick, but he was long and from the position, it seemed he got all the way into your stomach. You breathed harshly to catch your breath, you had never rode him before. He loved seeing you like that though, face and chest red, eyes closed in focus, mouth parted. With his hands, he helped you grind down onto him, the head of his dick rubbing over your sweet spot.

"Jisung~" Your moan was high pitched, nearly a cry. He would love to watch you fuck yourself on his cock, but you had very little strength left, so he took over. His hips jumped, burying him inside and you yelped with each thrust, only his hands holding you up. You fell forward, landing on his chest, short nails digging slightly into the skin. He huffed in amusement, helping you ride him a bit, but mostly just fucking up into you.

"J-Jisung!" Your cunt fluttered again, already close and he wasn't too surprised, you were quicker to cum the second time then even the first. With another hard thrust, he held you down, grinding into you, getting as deep as possible. The small but intense friction always brought you over the edge and he chuckled as you keened. Even with your vice squeezing around his cock, he held strong, not cumming himself. You were panting, boneless on top of him, so he was gentle in rolling you both over, but didn't pull out. You watched, dazed, as his gazed sharply down at you, easily moving your legs, pressing your knees up by your ears. When he had moved you, your mind finally reconnected and you were about to tell him to wait a sec, but he started to pound into you, the bed frame already rattling from the power. You nearly screamed, each subsequent noise higher and higher till you could barely get anything out, head lolling as your mind fogged over. Jisung's breathing picked up, deep groans and grunts escaping his pretty lips. His pace stuttered and your clit was starting to burn, the overstimulation cresting till the pain faded and you only felt the sharp pleasure again. You had a hard time controlling your breathing, drool pooling at the corner of your mouth, tears pricking your eyes.

"Jisung!" You managed to gasp his name and he groaned.

"Hold on, love." He bit his bottom lip, eyes closed, brow furrowed, and with two more deep thrusts he painting your core white, filling you with heat. You nearly sobbed as your orgasm crested as well, your release spurting from your cunt, mixing with the absurd amount he had pumped into you. As he rested back on his heels, panting, you flopped like a ragdoll, eyes glazed over. Jisung brought his thumb to your swollen clit, flicking it, making you twitch hard. He licked the slick from the digit, smiling softly, "so sweet."

🍉 Mark 🍉

🍇 Renjun 🍇

🍌 Jeno 🍌

🍒 Haechan 🍒

🍑 Jaemin 🍑

🍓 Chenle 🍓

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