#Depends on how far the two got :P

[distantdarlings]

A FAMILIAR ACHE // t. nott

RATING: R / 3.2K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Fem Reader Insert

+ SUMMARY - *Requested, based on this* It’s been a week since you broke up with your boyfriend, Theodore Nott, but the urge to resist him is getting harder and harder.

+ WARNINGS - SMUT! (P in V) unprotected, mean!Theo, dom!Theo, sub!Reader, fem reader, oral (f!receiving), (1) spank, very light bondage, degradation, bit of praise, name-calling, choking (f!receiving), descriptions of fem masturbation (but no actual), slight voyeruism Theo keeps pushing even when the reader says no (but she’s mainly just teasing him, not actually disinterested), language, not proofread (lmk if I missed anything!)

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Ultraviolence - Lana Del Rey (have I already used this song?)

- - -

You were fucked. Absolutely, totally, royally fucked. Everything that had led up to this moment implied that you’d be totally okay without Theo. But you were so very wrong.

It had been a week since you’d broken it off with him. His flirtatious, possessive nature had finally pushed you to your limit, and you’d called it quits.

You had thought you’d be okay, but you were wrong. You needed him—more now than you ever did before. The ache that filled your chest and your stomach and everything in between was becoming too much to bear. He was a jerk, but he was your jerk. And, right now, you were fidgeting in class from the amount of desire coursing through your veins. And it was all due to the boy sitting across from you.

He was watching you with those oceanic eyes, just as he always did—with a lidded, demanding stare. And if the two of you were still together, you would know that it meant you would be begging for mercy later today. But you weren’t together, and he was only doing it now to fuck with you.

He obviously hadn’t wanted to break up. That day, he’d sworn that he’d change everything about him you didn’t like. But you’d heard that lie one too many times. Every time you threatened to leave him, he pulled up that old story. That he loved you and would do whatever it took to keep you. But he’d proven time and time again that he was incapable of keeping his eyes and hands off other girls.

You knew that this was the right thing to have done, but you couldn’t help it. The want he forced into you was too much. You were too weak to handle it.

But you couldn’t break—you couldn’t run back to him like you did every single time. It was pathetic, how much you depended on him. And the way he looked at you now, he knew that you’d be coming home soon.

By the time the professor was announcing the end of class and you were gathering your things to head back to your dorm, Theo was brushing past you like he hadn’t even known you.

You were shocked at his nonchalance toward you and barely was able to keep your jaw from flying open. You almost wanted to say something to him, but you kept your mouth shut.

He was obviously just trying to get under your skin. The shitty thing was that it seemed to be working so far.

You cleared your throat and attempted to hide the blush on your cheeks by staring down at the floor as you got ready to leave the room.

If he was waiting for you to come sprinting back to him, he’d be disappointed. He was going to have to come back to you this time, or you would be done with him permanently. Besides, the only way you’d ever actually take him back now, was if he truly changed his ways—which was unlikely.

You rolled your eyes at the effect the stupid boy was having on you before deciding to head back to the dorm. With the heat that was running through your body, you figured it’d be smart just to take the rest of the day off.

Perhaps Theo was burning just as much for you as you were him. That thought kept you a bit calmer as you stopped before the entrance to your dormitory, whispered the password, then pushed through.

You jogged up the stairs with nothing but your bed and Theo in your mind. Unfortunately, that tended to usually be what was on your mind when your head was whirling and your stomach was hot.

No one else would be in the dorm at this time of day. One locked door and a slip beneath your satin sheets would have you completely set for the next few days.

As pathetic as it was, you had been insanely dependent on Theo in more than one way. Besides emotionally, no one had ever taken such perfect care of you sexually…and you feared that no one ever would.

It was almost as if he knew your body more than even you did. But you were just going to have to work for now.

You burst through the door of your dorm, murmured a quick locking spell, and sprinted toward your bed. All of your things dropped from your hands in the wake of your rushing body, clattering loudly and echoing like a drum. But nothing compared to the volume of your heart pounding in your ears.

A quick glance around the room allowed you to see that it was completely empty, just waiting to capture your suppressed moans like a net of stone.

Your stomach twirled with anticipation as you jumped onto your bed. In a rushed manner, you dropped your skirt down, leaving your stockings the only thing covering your legs. You loosened your tie, and ripped your shirt apart, allowing the cold air to caress your bare skin.

The only thing remaining on your buzzing body was an intact bra and bottoms, your loose stockings, and the ghost of Theo’s tongue and teeth.

You sighed aloud as you slipped beneath the sheets, letting the swirling material cool your hot flesh. If you could have, you’d have thought you’d start steaming.

“Fuck,” you shuddered, letting your hands slide down your aching hips. Nothing felt like Theo but you knew that you were the closest substitute.

One hand inched down towards your lacy bottoms, while the other toyed with your chest through the fabric of your bra. The rough material scraped against your nipples just enough to pull them into a standing position.

You’d only been here seconds, but a thin sheen of sweat had graced across your chest.

As your fingers began to slip beneath your pantyline, a choked moan left your lips as you granted yourself the relief you’d been waiting for ever since Theo’s eyes had met yours.

It was fucking stupid how dangerously he affected you.

And just as the tips of your fingers had begun to sink into your core, the door flew open with a force like lightning.

You gasped loudly and scrambled to cover your body with your blankets.

“What the hell?” you shrieked, your hair gathering around your face messily.

Through the curtains draped over the canopy on your bed, you glimpses Theo walking toward your bed.

“Hello, darling,” he purred. His eyes met yours cruelly as he dragged them up the length of your scantily covered body.

Your uniform shirt was still wrapped around your elbows and your tie settled loosely between your cleavage. The air still kissed the tops of your thighs.

He eyed you like a predator, and you watched him like prey as he circled ever closer. He stopped at the foot of the bed.

“Theo, you need to leave,” you whispered, your body practically vibrating with want. His scent was beginning to curl around your nose, threatening to overtake you as if you were drowning. It took everything in you not to tackle him.

“Mm, tesoro,” he breathed. His fingers slipped down to brush against your bare ankle. The contact pulled a gasp from you, and you quickly yanked your leg away from him. “I’m surprised you haven’t begged me to take you back yet.”

“I beg you?” you scoffed. “You should be begging me! You’ve treated me like shit ever since we got back together last time.”

“No, my love,” he said, beginning to slowly move around the edge of the bed. “It’s nothing to do with you, you know I just like to flirt a little.”

“That’s not okay, Theo! Why would that be okay?”

“You could flirt a little too, if you wanted,” he suggested. He was now standing over you, just to your right. “I know Mattheo’s been dying to get a taste of you. And I wouldn’t mind sharing…just a bit.”

Your stomach burned with his words. Your core seeped with excitement as every cursed syllable twisted its way into your mind.

Still, you refused to say anything. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction by begging him to take you like you wanted him to.

He leaned down and pressed his lips against your ear.

“Come on, baby,” he growled. “Take me back and let me fuck you. I can smell how badly you want me.”

His words sent shivers down your arms. He huffed a laugh against your neck as he trailed the top of his nose from your temple down to your collarbone.

Your eyes slipped shut at the feeling as you wondered how you always got yourself into this situation. Every single time you’d gotten away from Theo, you always fell right back into his hands. It was like a game to him.

“It’s alright, darling. Let me take care of you. We’ll forget about all this. Everything will go back to the way it was, except I promise I won’t flirt with anyone else.”

Merlin, wasn’t that what he always said? Wasn’t that the very thing you swore he’d say? You should be running away. Why weren’t you?

Because the bend of his knuckle was creeping over your nipple, slowly and easily. You gasped slightly at the sensation. He knew what he was doing. He always knew.

“That’s it, my girl,” he murmured, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your neck. Fuck, he was perfect at making you like him again. That was the way he’d locked you in in the first place.

“Now, my love,” he said against your skin. “What was it you were going to do to yourself?”

You said nothing, your eyes still clenched shut, still trying to refuse his seduction.

“What was it you were going to do while thinking of me?” His fingers slipped down your chest and traced the lines of your stomach.

Once he’d reached your panty line, he traced the edges of the thin lace, allowing the scratchy material to rub against his skin. The slight noise that echoed from the motion had you lightheaded.

His finger gently slipped beneath the waistband and tugged on them just a bit, pulling the bottoms up against your core. The sensation pushed black spots in front of your eyes.

“Fuck, Theo,” you whispered, a whine building up in your throat.

“Just tell me what you need,” he sighed against your cheek, “and I’m all yours.”

“Swear you won’t flirt with any other girls,” you demanded, eyes finally opening to meet his cold stare.

“I already did, my love,” he chuckled.

“Swear it again, Theo! Please! All I want is for you to be for me only.” You begged him with a clenched fist against his chest.

“I’m only for you, bella,” Theo smiled. “Can I fuck you now? Please, baby. Please? Just say the words, my love. Please, let me fuck you. I want to make you feel so good.” He begged relentlessly.

“Yes.”

And he was breathing a sigh against your lips, then pressing them to his. His tongue was slipping between your teeth and messily claiming your mouth just as he always did. Your lips were panting his name through choked syllables as his fingers were pushing further into your bottoms.

He was lifting you with his free hand and scooting you over so he could take his place beside you on the bed. He was separating his mouth from yours, only to start kissing down your neck. Then his tongue was on your collarbone, then your clothes breast, then your stomach, then your clothes core.

He was swirling his mouth over you and marking you so beautifully.

Your fingers were curling into his hair as he consumed you through your bottoms, teeth scraping and tongue dripping.

You were breathlessly whining his name to the cold air, begging to be heard by anyone around. Your knuckles were turning white as he pushed his hot mouth farther against you.

Then he was pulling away and helping you slip out of your bottoms. He was quickly replacing his mouth against you again, the lack of material in between you and his lips now sending a shockwave of pleasure through you. Your back arched against him, pleading for more.

Then he was turning you on your stomach, and letting the cold air hit your sweating back. His fingers massaged your ass roughly as he pushed your hips forward to see his dirty work covering your core. The beginnings of your finish mixed with his spit slid down through your folds. The sight alone had his pants tightening significantly.

“So beautiful, my love,” he whispered. With the hand that held your hips forward, he brushed his thumb down your core, marveling at the way you reacted so vividly.

His free hand trailed up your spine until he reached the back of your neck. He pushed your face roughly into the pillow. You whimpered at the sudden aggression.

“I hope that what I’m about to give you will teach you not to fucking break up with me,” he growled into your ear, all of the sugar in his voice completely dissipated.

You knew this was coming. It always did.

He slammed his hand down against your ass cheek, the pain rippling up your back and down your thigh. You screamed into the pillows, your fingers gripping into the fabric.

His hands wrapped around the tie still dangling around your neck, and yanked your head back to rest against his chest. You yelped at the sudden movement, the force of the tie pressing tightly against your throat.

Tears threatened the edge of your eyes. “I’m sorry, Theo.”

“Oh, it’s too late for ’sorry,’ baby.”

He dropped the tie and your face fell back into the pillows. His hands wrapped meanly around your hips and he yanked you closer to him.

With rough hands, you could hear him undoing his belt and yanking his pants down around his knees. He pulled your body up by the waist, pulling you into an awkward position. Your breasts and throat still pressed roughly into the mattress, but your hips were smashed against Theo’s now bare core. He was hot and heavy against you, enough to make you shudder at the sensation.

He grabbed your wrists from where your arms were flailed flimsily above you, and pulled them tight behind your back. With one large, structured hand, he clutched both of your wrists together, and pinned them against your lower back.

“You want me, baby? Is that what you want? Yeah?”

“Yeah…,” you whined, tears trailing down your cheeks. Because despite the pain and the malice Theo exuded, it never failed to turn you on so painfully. This was the kind of love you wanted, yet couldn’t find anywhere else.

“Yeah? Yeah? Beg for it, bitch. Beg for it a week after you said you didn’t need it.”

“Please, Theo,” you moaned. “Please, baby, I need you so bad. Please, I was wrong!”

“That’s it,” he chuckled meanly. “Such a good girl.”

And then he’s collecting all of the moisture around himself then pushing into you in one smooth movement. His hand is clenching around your arms and the tension is stretching your shoulders so far, they burn.

You could taste salt from your cheeks and lust from the fingers that he suddenly shoved into your mouth. You gagged around them pitifully as he forced more stimulation on you than he ever had before.

“Fuck, you take me so well,” he groaned, letting his hips sink deeper into you with every thrust. He kept you occupied from every angle, even going so far as to trap your legs tightly together between his own. You were secured and you couldn’t move. But why was it so perfect?

“Merlin, you’re so fucking pathetic,” he murmured. The pace he was beginning to set threatened to unravel you within the next few breaths. Every push of his hips against your core had your legs trembling and chills shooting across your arms.

“You think you can just leave me and move on? Huh? You think someone else could fuck you like this?” he demanded, bordering a shout.

You shook your head as well as you could with his fingers still curled against your tongue, reddened cheeks scratching across the mattress.

“Use your words, baby. Who could fuck you like this?” He freed your mouth.

“You! Nobody else, Theo! Just you!”

And he was quickening his pace and holding every part of you tighter. With the hand he’d just pulled from between your lips, he slipped around you and began to rub tight circles across your clitoris, allowing the last wave of pleasure to build to a height it’d never reached before, then crash down over you.

And you were coming all over your legs and his dick, and it felt better than anything he’d ever given you before.

You were screaming his name tied in with a refrain of curses and swears. It was the most pleasures he’d ever made you feel and, if it weren’t for the burning in your arms, and the eyes rolling back into your head, you’d have imagined it was a dream.

Once he had milked your spend, he was pulling out of you and flipping you over onto your back. He seemed to have no regard for the deep ache echoing in your entire lower half due to his violent assault of your core.

He reentered you as quickly as he’d pulled out, lighting your abdomen on fire. You helped at the sensation, the oversensitivity burning in your core.

“I’m going to come in you, sweet girl,” he said, placing his hands over your nipples. “Just to remind you who you belong to.”

His thrusts quickened and quickened before they slowly began to become sloppy, hips clapping lazily against the backs of your thighs. Then his built abdomen was tensing and his eyes were rolling back.

You were crying out his name and begging him to paint your insides, and he was groaning and releasing into you at a rate you’d never seen him do before.

Then he was collapsing onto your chest, bodies still within the other, while you planted unevenly.

“If you ever break up with me again, I’ll do the same thing but worse.” he murmured against your chest.

“Then you shouldn’t flirt with other girls,” you argued. “It’s as simple as that.”

“I don’t flirt with other girls, I just talk to them.”

“That is not the truth, Theo,” you scoffed, glancing down at him. Despite your annoyance with his words, your fingers still rose to caress his curls.

“I would just appreciate it if you didn’t do that any longer,” you explained. “Anything that could possibly be mistaken for flirting, just don’t do.”

“Oh, yeah? Or what? It’s not like I can’t just pull a couple orgasms out of you, and snatch you right back up.”

He glanced up at you, chin resting on your chest and eyes staring meanly.

“If you flirt with another girl ever again, I’m going to let Mattheo get that taste you were mentioning earlier.”

- - -

Tag List:

@lilymurphy03 , @mypolicemanharryyy , @angelfrombeneth , @clairesjointshurt , @bunbunbl0gs , @acornacreacure , @niktwazny303 , @thestarlithideout , @sarahskakskskskajakwwnwjw , @yhiiil , @xxrougefangxx , @thatblackthorn , @robinyx , @starsval , @jolly4holly , @blvebanisters , @chgrch , @ilovehotmenandwoman , @smutnyrobocikwrakiecie , @synicaljah , @abaker74

[rninies]

✮ sleeping over - gojo satoru

synopsis: gojo satoru finally convinces you to stay over his place.

warnings: fluff, gn!reader, pouty gojo, reader loves teasing him — wc: 698

notes: new fic after idk how many days yipee hey people

satoru dislikes staying at home sometimes. it’s not about how fancy his house is or even how comfortable it is. no, it’s about not having you in the house. he loves your company a lot and is always so dependent on you. he loves hugging you, kissing you, touching you — satoru loves your presence so much that he feels like he can’t live without you (it’s such an exaggeration you say to him when he says that to you).

“y/n, baby, honey,” satoru whines. he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you back down onto his lap as you are about to stand up. “are you going to stay over tonight?”

“…mm, maybe next time,” you reply, and satoru groans.

“you always say next time, though.” satoru pouts, resting his chin on your shoulder. “come on. just this once. we’ve been dating for four months now! it’s gotta happen someday.” the way he tightens his grip on your waist is a silent beg for you to stay. “please?”

you sigh, finally giving in. “okay, fine.” satoru gasps, happy. “but you will be taking care of dinner tonight.”

“okay!” satoru says in excitement. “what do you want? sushi? pizza? pasta? say anything and you’ll get it!”

you stifled a laugh. “hm, you can just make anything you want. i don’t mind.”

“okay. i’ll make us some kitsune udon.” satoru says. you nod in agreement.

satoru lets go of you, allowing you to move away from him. he takes the ingredients out and starts cooking. you silently admire satoru from the couch, looking at him cutting up the ingredients, boiling the water, and waiting for the udon to finish. as soon as he finishes, he sets the two bowls down on the table, clapping his hands in satisfaction.

“dinner’s ready!” satoru exclaims. you stand up, the smell of kitsune udon filling your nose. “mm, it smells amazing, toru!”

“of course it does.” satoru smugly says. “i’m the best cook after all. the best one you’ll ever meet in the entire world.”

“pft-” you giggled. “yeah, okay whatever you say, master chef satoru.” satoru frowns, not taking the insult (as he would call it) very well. however, instead of refuting you, he sits down at the left side of the table, far from you, and starts eating quietly. “why are you sitting so far away from me?”

“no reason why.” satoru shrugs, continuing to eat his udon. “why? you got a problem with that?”

you suppress the smile from forming on your face, knowing the reason behind this. “no. just wondering why.”

satoru frowns once more, upset at the lack of reaction. he stands up and sits next to you, slamming his bowl on the table, and spilling a little bit of the soup. “i can never get to you can i?”

“nope.” you say, popping the ‘p’. “you’re just too cute when you’re mad.”

“i hate you,” satoru mumbles. “i hate you with my every soul. i regret inviting you to stay over.”

“yeah, okay,” you say, finishing your udon. “wanna watch a movie after this?”

“yes.” satoru replies immediately. you both finish your meal, satoru immediately takes your bowl to wash it. “you can go pick the movie. if you pick the same barbie movie-”

“i am definitely watching barbie: princess charm school,” you say and rush to the couch. satoru chases after you and the both of you grab the remote, fighting over it. “hey-! come on, give me the remote, toru!”

“no way! i am not watching that movie for the tenth time this week and it’s only tuesday!” satoru says. “let me watch something i’ve been wanting to watch already! come on, let’s watch horror!”

“no way!” you exclaim, pulling the remote harder. “you know how much i hate horror! you’re the one who asked me to pick the movie for tonight so you better let me watch barbie!”

satoru pulls the remote back and it actually leaves your hand, making you lose your balance. you gasp, trying to catch your balance but you fail. satoru quickly catches you and the both of you fall on the couch. unsurprisingly, you fall on top of satoru, to which he is very happy about. “hey.” he says with a smile on his face.

“don’t say anything.” you frowned, though you were in a really comfortable position. “don’t move, actually. i’m really comfortable.”

“what?” satoru laughs. “at least let me be comfortable.” he holds you gently as he moves back to the couch. “there. and since i’m a nice host, i’ll let you watch barbie.”

“really? yeay!” your eyes sparkled happily. you grab the remote and play it. “just admit you like this movie. it’s a fun one!”

“yeah, sure.” satoru’s eyes are on you, watching the pretty smile on your face widen as the introduction to the movie starts. “i do like it.”

taglist: @planetnini @xintre @kyoghurts @sad-darksoul (send an ask to be added!) <3

[seelie-buddy]

Put your head on my shoulder

summary : alhaitham keeps you company after you had a tiresome day, but he doesn't realise when you drift off into dreamland

contains : alhaitham is glad to see you rest after you finished off a tiresome task ; fluff ; gn!reader, this drabble is written in second person

word count : 545

The solitary silence of Razan Garden allowed it to be the perfect place where Alhaitham could visit after his work hours. It was a place he often frequented as a student, and it was during one such visit, that he had met you.

So when the scene from his memories was recreated, as the last rays of sunlight danced on the horizon, he could only smile.

As his boots clicked silently on the stone path, he could see you sitting down beside the decorative flowers; your belongings were scattered hastily and your attention was devoted to frowning at the notebook resting on your thighs.

"What's wrong?" He asked as he approached you, making sure not to step on any of your stationery.

You glance up at him for a brief moment, and the tiresome look in your eyes was not foreign to him.

"I've been going over this equation for a while, and my solution is far from the answer."

Ah, so that's what was bothering you.

Alhaitham acknowledged your dilemma with a hum, as he glanced over your notebook.

The page was littered with numericals, lots of crossed out answers, and ink smudges.

"My entire project is dependent on getting these calculations accurate, and I've been trying for so long," you groaned, rubbing the heel of your palm over your eyes.

With how you managed to stain your hands with ink, Alhaitham was curious about how none got on your face. "When is it due?" He asked instead.

"The day after tomorrow," you answered, staring down at the miserable mess that is your notebook.

"You'll sort it out until then."

You looked up from the notebook and towards the other, who had already begun to read a book whilst you whined.

You hummed, repeating his words over in your mind. You'll sort it out.

Alhaitham's eyes drifted away from his book at the sound of your pen scratching against the page of your notebook. You began anew on a fresh, blank page; he smiled.

The sun, now fully hidden below the horizon, allowed the moon to light up the city. Alhaitham felt a weight against his shoulder, prompting his eyes to move away from his book.

Oh.

You were asleep.

How much time passed, he did not know, but he could wager up a guess of somewhere between an hour and two.

Your eyes were shut, and your hair occasionally flowed with the soft wind, and now that you were asleep, you appeared more at peace; undisturbed by the world, not a worry on your mind.

Alhaitham's eyes shifted from you to the notebook resting on your lap. The page was filled with calculations, but at the end, highlighted, was the solution. Running over the numbers in his head, he guessed you had finally arrived at the answer you were looking for.

In the life of a scholar, everyday was filled with competition and challenges; he was glad you had one burden less off your mind.

And he wouldn't allow the noise of the students walking through the garden disturb this peace you gained.

Without shifting much, he removed the headset he wore, and placed it over your ears. Now, Alhaitham smiled softly at your sleeping figure, you can rest without the world interrupting.

request, by🌙 anon :

hihi, i wanted to let you know that i enjoyed your recent diluc fic like alot♡

is it alright if i request something similar? as in, reader being tired and falling asleep on the character and they dont mind? if you dont mind could this be for like maybe al haitham?

also, could i be🌙 anon?

a/n : aww thanks nonnie! this was fun to write!!

p/s : If you have any other requests, don't hesitate to send in an ask!!

[kitty-tea]

Like father, like son

Welcome to the third and final part of the story!

Here’s part one and part two

(Link to masterlist)

Summary: James finally gets what he wants.

A/n: thank you to everyone who’s read the story so far! Sorry this is so long and full of filthy, smutty goodness :)

Pairing: dilf!James Potter x reader

NSFW 18+ only!

Word count: 5.4k

Tags/warnings: dilf!James Potter, super long, unprotected sex, age gap, low-key unhinged, almost-somnophilia, pet names, extremely filthy smut, NSFW, oral sex, p in v sex, teasing, reader is of age, dub-con (depends on how you look at it)

Hey, how have you been? It’s been a while since we’ve spoken to each other. I know you’ve been busy with the Auror Recruitment Programme. Dad and I are really happy for you. We both miss you very much, and it would mean a lot to me if you would come to our house for my 18th birthday. We know you’re very busy, so it’ll just be dinner with the three of us and we’ll let you leave the next morning. We’ll even let you sleep on the pull-out couch just like old times.

-Your friend, Harry

You stared at the letter in your hand that Hedwig had dropped onto your kitchen counter after you let her in. The words “we both miss you very much” stuck out to you. You were reminded of how fast time passed since Lily’s death. The first month after it happened, the three of you were a complete mess. James had gotten a letter from Professor McGonagall saying that Harry’s grades were starting to slip, and he was in danger of having to repeat sixth year on top of getting kicked off the Quidditch team (something that upset both you and James as former players for the same team) if something wasn’t done about it. With you out of school and unable to spend as much time with him, there was nothing you could do for him other than to keep sending him letters of encouragement. Luckily for him, his supportive group of friends were more than willing to help him get back to his feet and help keep him on track to graduating. You still understood that neither James nor his son would ever get over Lily’s death because you never got over your parent’s deaths. You understood each other’s pain. You’d never be that type of person to tell someone to get over a loved one’s death no matter how long ago it was.

You scribbled your response to Harry’s letter promising him that you’ll be at his house, and tied the parchment around Hedwig’s ankle before sending her off.

You sat still on your chair with a dreamy feeling inside of you. If you were a cartoon character, there would be hearts in place of your eyes. That dreamy feeling only swelled within you more by each day until it was the day for you to see James.

James felt selfish for using his son’s birthday as an excuse to see you. He was the one who brought you up during dinner, casually mentioning that you hadn’t spoken with them in a long time. He then mentioned that with Harry’s birthday coming up, it would be the perfect opportunity for you to spend time together.

That’s how he found himself answering the door at six in the evening. His heart somersaulted into his stomach at the sight of you.

“Oh, hi James.” His eyes didn’t overlook the way your cheeks turned as pink as the sunset or the same shy smile you started giving him all those years ago.

“Come in, Harry’s inside setting the table.” He stepped aside as you walked in with your overnight bag slung onto your shoulder.

James didn’t care if you caught his eyes hungrily exploring your body. Actually, he wanted you to catch him, so he could see how you’d react. Would you blush an even deeper shade of red and turn away? Or would you boldly hold his stare?

And what the hell were you wearing? You were (definitely) trying to seduce him with the tiny skirt that almost showed the plump skin of your ass and that white blouse that was high enough to show your belly button and exposed your shoulders. There was no way you were wearing a bra with the way your nipples were showing through the soft fabric, just tempting James to reach his thumb out and rub it over the hard peaks.

He then realized he couldn’t remember how long it’d been since he let his mind wander to you as he’d pleasure himself in the privacy of his own room.

He really needed to get himself together. He was not about to let his inappropriate thoughts about you slip out in front of his son.

“Happy birthday!” Your voice snapped James out of his thoughts as he saw you run over to Harry and give him a hug.

“I’m glad you could make it!” He returned your hug. “Come on, let’s eat. Aren’t you starving?”

“I know you are.” You rolled your eyes and laughed, only to abruptly stop with a blush when your eyes did indeed catch James looking at your body, specifically at your thighs that he saw you rubbing together. “Oh… yeah, what’s for dinner?” Your voice stumbled.

“My favorite, obviously because I’m the birthday boy.” Harry said in a joking snobbish way.

Throughout dinner, James sat back during most discussions you and Harry were having, enjoying the peaceful quietness without having to worry about the chaos that had been happening in the rest of the Wizarding World.

James didn’t know or care what time it was when his eyes opened to the sight of the still darkened sky outside his bedroom window and the dry, raw feeling inside his throat. He needed water which meant he’d have to go past the living room where you were sleeping in order to get to the kitchen.

Being careful not to make too much noise as he stepped past Harry’s bedroom door, he made his way down the stairs.

If the word temptation was a person, James was sure it would be you. His eyes gravitated up your exposed legs before landing on the hem of the short, pink satin robe you were wearing, your sleeping form undisturbed by his presence.

A more sinister part of his mind was begging him to walk over to you and untie your robe. One little peek wouldn’t hurt right? It told him, but he screamed at that part of him to shut up and that Lily would’ve been furious enough to come out of her grave to give him some sort of a spiritual beating and an earful if he did something that devious to you. It was just a thought. Not everything he thought needed to be acted out.

He wasn’t married anymore. He didn’t have to feel guilty about his dirty thoughts about you, right?

James found that his previous thirst for water was replaced by something else. He sat on the armchair next to the pull-out couch as he reminded himself about what he’d been taught: that men are allowed to look but not touch. But he wanted to touch you. His fingers twitched around the armrest as he imagined tracing them along your exposed inner thighs before dipping below the hem. Would his fingers feel a warm slickness or a piece of fabric? Were you wearing any underwear at all? It was hard to tell with your legs closed.

James couldn’t take it anymore. He didn’t care anymore that his conscience had no control over his body as he got up from his chair and the backs of his fingers found themselves brushing a strand of hair out of your face and down your neck. He made up this pathetic excuse in his mind that he had to check your pulse to make sure you were alive.

That excuse was so pathetic that James instantly snatched his hand back and mentally scolded himself before swiftly retreating to his bedroom.

Stepping out of the bathroom with your toothbrush bag, you adjusted your robe. You heard sounds coming from the kitchen which you deduced was James cooking something. You were right, for you spotted him behind the island where he was balancing a mixing bowl in one hand and holding a whisk in the other as you poked your head into the kitchen. You also noticed instantly that he was shirtless. And his muscles were on full display.

Although you’ve imagined what he’d look like without a shirt countless times, nothing could compare to the real view.

“Good morning. I didn’t see you there. I’m making pancakes.” You didn’t know what sounded more delicious: the pancakes, or the sound of his raspy morning voice.

You forced yourself to move your entire body into the kitchen.

You couldn’t remember how to speak as you felt your cheeks flame up and your eyes glue itself to his abs.

“Would you like to help?” Oh, you wanted to help him with something, alright. Just not the type of help he was implying.

You nodded and James gave you a smile as you made it to the kitchen island and set your toothbrush bag down. It was more like a smirk.

“What’s so funny?” You cringed at how your voice sounded like an angry little kid.

“It was like you were hiding from me.” Your heart fluttered even more inside your chest at the sound of his laughter. “Don’t worry, I won’t bite.”

When you hadn’t broken out of your trance, James brushed a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Are you alright?” He asked. You weren’t paying attention to what he was saying. You were busy staring at every body part of his from his eyes down to the V-line of his abs that extended below the waistband of his sweats.

You also weren’t paying attention to how you were squeezing your legs together to soothe the ache that was starting to form there.

“Hey, relax. You’re all tensed up.” You gasped at the feeling of his cold hand on the heated skin of your bare thigh. You bit your lip to suppress a whimper as you felt his thumb gently rub circles in an upwards direction.

If what James was already doing to you felt this good, you thought the pleasure he would bring to you if he touched you in other places would be beyond anything you felt in your life.

“I don’t like what you’ve been doing to me, babydoll.” James murmured into your ear, his voice making you melt. “What were you thinking? Tempting me last night in that short skirt and your tits practically on display? In front of my own son? Everyone else thinks you’re such a good girl, but I see right through you.”

“What are you talking about?” You asked in your confused and dizzy state.

James scoffed. “Even a Muggle would be able to read you. You’re just as terrible at Occlumency as you are talented at Legilimency.”

So he did know about your crush on him… the question was how long had he known?

“Oh, I’ve known for a while…” James smirked, answering your mind. “Since I was married, actually. And I’ve seen your little sex dreams. They’re even better than those cheap porno films. Don’t even try to deny it.”

“James… you’re scaring me.” Your lower lip quivered. How on earth did things escalate this fast? You were beyond horrified that he could see things in your mind that even you tried hiding from yourself. There was no going back now. No more lying to yourself that you only saw James as a father figure.

“Father figure?” James asked incredulously. “Quite frankly, I’m flabbergasted that with all the magic you have, you never once saw the things I’ve thought while I was around you. If you would’ve used Legilimency on me at all, you would’ve seen all those filthy thoughts I’ve had about you that no father should have.”

“James!” You gasped as his hand disappeared below your robe and landed on your hip bone.

You were clenching your thighs so hard that you could feel some of the stickiness from your cunt leaking onto them.

“Open your legs. I want to know how filthy my little girl is.” He whispered and you obeyed. You sucked in a breath as you felt his long index finger venture into the crease of your thigh before using it to collect your warm slick and spread it up and down your pussy. You moaned and instinctively grinded against his fingers.

“Have you always been this wet in front of me?” He whispered.

You shamefully looked down. You didn’t want to answer him, why should you when he already knew?

“Dad? Are you in there? Where’s-” You heard Harry’s voice from inside the living room.

“Yeah, she’s right here in the kitchen with me! Don’t come in yet! We’re both making a surprise breakfast for you!” James hurriedly interrupted him.

Really? You thought as you rolled your eyes. If things were to get more out of control, you’d be on your way to making a surprise baby.

You bit your lip as James slid his finger inside and curled them upwards hitting that deep spot within you that you couldn’t reach as well with your own shorter fingers. With his thumb, he rubbed tight circles around your clit, making your legs want to give out from underneath you. You didn’t know which of those two spots he was touching you felt better.

“Okay. Should I go wait in my room?” You almost forgot Harry was still there. What kind of game was James playing with you, talking to his son so casually as if he wasn’t doing something dirty with you?

“Yeah, we’ll call you over when we’re done!” James shouted. You let out an exhale as you heard Harry’s footsteps rush upstairs.

“Just look at you. My sweet, perfect little doll.” James’ eyes followed the fingers on his hand that weren’t buried in your cunt up and down your body. “Can I look at these?” He softly cupped his other hand under your breast making sure to give them a gentle squeeze.

You breathlessly nodded and tensed under his touch as he used his index finger to slide the robe off both of your shoulders. You felt your nipples harden into peaks at both the sudden air and James’ hungry gaze on them.

Your eyes slid shut as his lips left a trail of kisses that started from between your breasts and ended at the side of your neck where he started sucking on the sensitive skin. The harder James was sucking on that one area, the harder it became for you to hide your whimpers. With each pump of his fingers inside of you combined with the pleasure he was giving you on your neck, you felt your body getting closer towards the edge of something until you couldn’t hold on anymore. You couldn’t control your hips as they thrust themselves onto his hand. Your panting was shaking your body just as violently as did your orgasm.

“Oh, James.” You quietly whimpered into his ear as your hands found their way to his messy hair.

“Doesn’t it feel good?” His soft voice replied back.

“Feels so… good.” You pushed the sentence out of you as the last remaining trembles from your orgasm left your body along with James’ fingers.

“James!” You suddenly exclaimed, remembering. “Breakfast!”

“I know, I didn’t forget.” A smile broke out on his face.

He continued to look at you like you were the most perfect thing he’d seen as he helped put your robe back onto your shoulders and clean you up with a towel.

You were still blushing and avoiding eye contact with him while you were helping him in the kitchen, but that didn’t stop him from gently caressing any part of your body he could from behind you every few minutes.

You gasped every time his face would find the crook of your neck or his hands that would wrap around your waist.

Soon, James left to go knock on Harry’s bedroom door to let him know breakfast was ready while you stayed behind to get the table ready.

James came back (with a shirt on unfortunately) with Harry running like a little kid in front of him, dressed in jeans and a hoodie.

“I’m starving!” Harry shouted excitedly, eyeing his plate. You laughed at him, glad to see his energetic old self that you missed.

You and Harry mostly spent the rest of breakfast catching up some more, before he told you he’d leave soon to go to the Weasleys’ for the actual party they were throwing him where the rest of his friends would be.

James sat across from you while you sat next to Harry at the table like how it used to be.

“What happened to your neck?” You and James froze upon seeing Harry point to the bruise that was the same color as the jelly on his plate.

“I…tripped.” You promptly used your hair to cover up the area so that Harry wouldn’t have enough time to inspect it.

“You need to be more careful next time. The corners of the tables can be quite sharp.” James chided you gently as if he wasn’t the one that caused this.

“Oh. Funny how I didn’t hear you screaming earlier.” Harry shrugged. “You should put some ice on it.”

“Well you know she’s in Auror training and she’s been learning how to keep quiet.” James said with emphasis on the last two words with a sly look in your direction. He then got up to walk to the freezer.

He returned a moment later with an ice cube wrapped around a paper towel. You felt a spark where your fingers touched his as he handed it over to you, almost convincing you to put it over your reddening cheeks instead.

After the three of you had finished breakfast and Harry had disapparated out of the living room, it was you and James alone.

“Do you need me to help you wash dishes?” You asked awkwardly, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “I can stay here and help. I got the day off today.”

“Or you could wait for me in my bedroom.” James murmured as he sneakily slid his thumbs up your thighs. “You could help me in there.”

“Deal.” You got on your tiptoes and gave his cheek a quick kiss before departing for his bedroom.

As you came up in front of the door to James’ bedroom, your hands started to shake as you pushed it open. In all the time you spent there, this was the only room in the house you had never stepped foot in. You were starting to feel awkward, knowing this used to be Lily’s room too, and the bed that was in the middle of the room was most likely the same bed that she shared with James too.

You started to feel anxious with all these thoughts that popped in your mind like, “What if James is just using me as a distraction to help him get over Lily?” “Does James want me to replace her?” “Would I be insulting Lily’s memory if I slept with her husband on the same bed as her after everything she’s done for me?”

As for what you thought about James, you didn’t want to use him as someone to just sleep around with. You didn’t ever want to replace Lily. She was a completely different person from you. That was it. She was a person with thoughts and feelings, not some object with mass-produced replicas. You didn’t know how to answer that last question you asked yourself internally.

You walked over to the bed, taking the time to run your fingers over the soft blanket that covered the bed. You then took in the rest of the room. You watched the tree in front of the window shade the room from the full sunlight, giving the white walls and floor the illusion of a blue-ish gray undertone. You noticed that unlike the rest of the house, there was an absence of pictures. You assumed it was so that James wouldn’t be reminded of the pain of losing his wife as he was trying to go to sleep. Besides the bed, the only furniture there was were the drawers, a vanity, and a desk with a chair. The only two doors besides the entrance were what looked to be the master bathroom and the closet.

Although you and James had known each other for years, you didn’t feel right to go and snoop around his stuff. But he did snoop around your mind. Is that any different? That still wasn’t a good enough excuse for you to go through his physical stuff.

You instead elected to take a seat on the foot of the bed with your legs crossed, your mind spacing out over to the tree by the window.

“I hope someone didn’t start without me.” James’ voice snapped you out of your thoughts. He was leaning on the doorframe, his glasses and side-smile leaning with him.

You shyly turned away as he took a seat next to you on the bed.

“You’re so pretty.” James said as he twirled a strand of your hair around his finger. “What’s wrong?”

He gently cupped your face with his other hand, turning you towards his direction. You nervously looked down to where your lips were nearly touching.

“Do you actually want to do this with me? Am I just a distraction for you?” You whispered the last sentence. You couldn’t bring yourself to mention Lily directly.

“No, Sweetheart. You’re so much better than that.” James brought one of your hands to his lips and kissed the back of it.

At that moment, James wanted you all to himself. He knew there would be consequences later if that happened. He could give you a choice to either sneak around with you behind his son’s back or go public with everyone else about your relationship and face the risk of shame. That was if you wanted it as much as he did, which he knew you did, but were you willing to give in and go that far? Would you change your mind?

And Harry? So what if he had a crush on you? You weren’t ever going to go for him anyways. James was the one who got what he wanted, not him. Not everyone gets what they want in life. Damn, he was thinking selfishly, so unlike how a father should.

No matter how happy or sad you looked, James couldn’t stop thinking of how gorgeous everything about you was, your eyes, your soft lips, the way your hair fell and framed your face, the blush on your cheeks that was as potent as the flame in his heart, it was like you were pulling him in without trying as his lips automatically found its way to yours.

As he got a taste of you, he knew he was instantly addicted. Just the taste of your lips wasn’t enough for him. He needed to hold your body close to him, so he wrapped his arm around you and grabbed one of your legs and put it over him, making you sit on his lap, facing him.

If he hadn’t required air to be alive, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to let go of you. The both of you were left panting as you got a look at each other.

“Take this off.” He pleaded, tugging at the string of your robe.

As soon as you took your satin robe off, he wasted no time in flipping you over onto your back, making your hair spill out below you and knocking the air out of you.

“I can finally have this beautiful body all to myself.” You mewled as his thumb flicked over the hardened bud on your breast.

“Aren’t you just deliciously adorable?” James let a filthy smirk grow on his face as he squeezed your breast and attached his mouth to your nipple, sucking on it. “I can’t wait to taste the rest of you.”

You started to squirm more and more under him with each lick on your nipple until you couldn’t control your whimpering.

“It’s okay, Baby. You don’t need to hold back.” James cooed.

He got up from where he was above you. He yanked his white t-shirt over his head before he pulled down his sweatpants, revealing the outline of his erection in his boxers to you.

“Do you want to feel it?” James took a hold of your smaller hand. Sitting up, you bit your lip and nodded.

“It’s so…big.” The way your voice sounded so innocent like you were discovering something fascinating only made the hardness of his erection more painful. James sucked in a breath as your hand gave him a gentle squeeze.

“Fuck, open your legs.” He commanded urgently.

When you were too distracted by studying the dimensions of his cock to respond, James took matters into his own hands by jamming both hands between your knees to pry them apart.

The sight of your glistening arousal in front of him was a reward in itself. But he couldn’t stop there.

“I already made you cum today and you’re still wet for more. You’re such a greedy little slut.” James purred deeply. “How about this? You use those pretty lips to suck me off while you touch yourself.”

Your big doe eyes only widened at him as your mouth hung open. Just that look on your face only made James want to cum even more.

“Come on, Babydoll,” He reveled in how nervous and tiny he was making you feel. “Don’t be shy. I know you touch yourself while thinking about me. And now, I’m right here.”

He took your hand off his cock. He could feel your eyes studying his movements as he hooked his fingers under the waistband of his boxers and pulled it down, making his dick spring out in front of your face.

“Get on your knees.” He easily pulled your smaller body off the bed and onto the floor, while he took his seat where you were.

There you were, naked in front of him, on your knees, staring up at his cock, like you were worshiping it.

James could feel your hesitation as your fingers reached out over the tip.

“You wanna taste it?” James brushed his fingers through your hair, attempting to relax you. You nodded. “Why don’t you ask?”

“C-Can I taste it, please?” How could he ever deny you, especially with you asking him so innocently and politely?

“Of course.” He couldn’t take his eyes off yours as you continued looking up at him while letting his cock slip past your lips. You then reached your hand down between your legs, touching yourself just as he had instructed.

He couldn’t believe what he was seeing with his eyes. You were there, really sucking his cock, making the dirty fantasies that had been manifesting inside him come true.

“Fuck, that’s it Baby.” James grunted as he pushed your head down on his cock. “You’re doing so well. You’re so perfect.”

When your wet tongue hit the vein on the underside, James let a string of curses erupt out of him. That seemed to encourage you to keep going as you wrapped your free hand around the base and pumped it in sync with your mouth.

A little while later, James could feel himself getting closer to cumming when his body tensed up.

“Keep going, Baby! Good job!” He kept praising you breathlessly as he stroked your cheek.

He finally felt his cum spill into your mouth as you swallowed it, some of it still spilling down your chin.

“Fuck,” James sighed as he gathered his cum that was on your chin with his thumb and pushed it into your mouth. He felt his gaze darken as you greedily sucked and licked the entire thing. “You’ve been such a good girl. Let me make it up to you.”

James pulled you off the floor and into his body, holding you close to him as he inhaled the scent of your perfume.

As you let the heat of James’ body wrap around you, he flipped you over so that you were on your back again. Glasses or no glasses, he was the most handsome man you’d seen in your life. You no longer gave a damn that he was almost old enough to be your father. Maybe you did have a type. He had made you feel like you were the most special girl in the entire world, and you never wanted to stop feeling that way.

“Hold onto me, okay? I’m going to make you feel good. Don’t you want that?” James asked as he kissed you under your jaw, making you whimper at the pleasure he was imposing on the sensitive area.

“Yeah I want your cock deep in my pussy.” James seemed surprised at the uncharacteristic filth that came out of you to which he raised his eyebrows.

“Fuck, I didn’t think you had such a filthy mouth to go with that innocent face.” James said as he brought his lips onto yours.

As he did so, you felt something against your entrance, presumably the tip of James’ cock. He wiggled around some more until he had finally coated his cock in the slickness of your walls.

“Are you alright?” James rubbed his thumb against the apple of your cheek.

You nodded as you bit your lip. You just needed a little time to adjust to him. His cock was longer and wider than anything you ever inserted into yourself. But he filled you up in the best way possible better than your fingers or even the handle of your hairbrush could.

“It feels so good James.” You were panting as you grabbed a hold of his shoulders. Another scream left you as James’ finger rubbed your clit, adding more pleasure to your cunt.

“I want you to cum for me, Beautiful.” James grunted as he continued to thrust his cock deep into you, making you whimper and moan under him.

You were now getting addicted to the full feeling of James’ cock inside you along with the stimulation on your clit. Your head was starting to feel like it was floating on clouds. In your cock-drunk state, you kept moaning James’ name and telling him how good he was making you feel, just how you did in your countless sex dreams about him.

You couldn’t believe this was real, and it was happening to you.

“James! James! Fuck! I’m so… so close.” You sobbed into his shoulder.

“I got you Baby.” He cooed.

“Feels so big and good…” You continued moaning sentences until it turned into incoherent mumbles.

The full feeling of James’ cock combined with the intense tingling on your clit had your walls squeezing around him soon. You started screaming James’ name again through your orgasm that flooded through you.

“Fucking hell!” He suddenly grabbed your hips, and looked at you as if something came over him.

He then pulled his cock out in the middle of your orgasm. He was kneeling above your spent body with his hard cock in his hand that was still coated in your juices.

With a couple strokes, you felt the warm liquid drip down onto your tits and your stomach. You were now painted with James’ cum, and he was the artist admiring his work.

Both of you took deep breaths as you looked at each other while coming down from your highs.

As soon as James had recovered, he got up and ran his hands through his messy hair. You were too tired to sit up, so you could only watch as he put on his boxers before he went into the master bathroom. You heard the water running, and not long after, James had returned with a towel in his hand.

“How do you feel?” He asked gently as he wiped the towel across where his cum was on your body.

“A little tired.” You sighed. James rubbed the towel in circular motions on your breasts, effectively massaging them. After he cleaned you up, he discarded the towel onto the nightstand.

“Come over here, Beautiful.” James opened his arms up and you rolled into his embrace. You closed your eyes as he pressed faint kisses on the back of your naked shoulder, making you shiver.

You were scared, but also excited to see what your future would look like with James.

Tags

@xcinnamonmalfoyx

[rebelliousmuse]

Crimson Mark – C.S.

Warning: spanking, unprotected p in v (wear condoms please).

---------------------------------------------------

Chris delivers a series of swift, stinging slaps to your ass, each one making your skin flush and tingle. In between the spanks, he grips your hips hard enough to leave bruises, his other hand trailing up your spine to tug your hair, forcing your face into the cushions.

“Count them, brat. And remember, these are just warm-ups.” He growls, his palm cracking against your flesh again and again.

“By the time I'm done with you, you won't be able to sit right for a week.” His voice is rough with lust and dominance as he continues his punishing spanks.

“Aaa 1...2...3” My body trembles as each impact sends a wave of agony and ecstasy through me. Involuntary moans erupt from my throat. Chris listens to your soft cries, each number punctuated by another smack to your ass. His cock throbs with need, precum leaking from the tip.

“Good girl. Keep counting.” He encourages, delivering another sharp slap that makes your whole body jerk. “I want you to remember every single spank. Every single bruise. Because you deserve every damn one.” He bites out, his hand moving faster now, his strokes growing more forceful.

"4... 5... 6... 7..." Each number a gasp between impacts. My voice challenged, "Is that all you've got? How disappointing, you’re so weak."

The challenge in your voice only fuels Chris's desire further. He lets out a deep, throaty laugh, his hand slowing for a moment before delivering two rapid-fire smacks in quick succession. “Weak?” He scoffs, resuming his assault on your ass with renewed vigor, making your pussy clench as you keep counting.

With each spank, Chris's handprint grows larger on your ass. He leans over you, his breath hot against your ear as he delivers another punishing slap. “That's it. Let everyone know who owns this ass.” He growls as you whimper, his voice laced with pride and possessiveness. “13, 14, 15...” He counts along with you, his hand moving with relentless precision, determined to mark every inch of your ass with his ownership.

"Please," I whisper, my voice trembling as tears prick my eyes. Despite your whispered plea, Chris doesn't slow down. Instead, he presses harder, smacking your ass even more forcefully than before. “What do you want, brat?” He taunts, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Tell me exactly what you want. Beg for it.” He demands, waiting for you to break under his dominance.

“Please, fuck me” I beg softly. At your begging, Chris grins wickedly, his hand still raining down on your ass with unrelenting force. “Not good enough.” He sneers, delivering another stinging slap. “Beg properly. Show some respect.” His voice is low and commanding, each word punctuated by another smack to your burning flesh.

“Please Chris, please fuck me, I need you” I plead louder this time. Even though your pleas are getting more desperate, Chris refuses to relent. He smacks your ass again, the sound echoing through the room. “No, baby. That's not how you ask for it.” He scolds, his voice thick with lust and power. “Say it like you mean it. Like your life depends on it.” His hand lands on your ass once more, the smack reverberating through your entire body.

“Chris... please... I really need you, please, please, please.” My body shaking uncontrollably as tears stream down my face. Each 'please' that falls from your lips sends a jolt of pleasure straight to Chriss's cock. But he's far from satisfied. He smirks, his hand landing on your ass with a resounding crack. “Still not convincing enough.” He mutters, his tone mocking. “Say it like you're dying for it. Say it like your very existence hinges on my cock inside you.” His hand pauses for a moment, only to land another punishing spank on your tender flesh. A sharp cry escapes my lips as his relentless actions continue.

Your cries only spur Chriss on, his hand rising and falling with ruthless efficiency. The sound of his palm connecting with your ass fills the room, mingling with your whimpers and sobs. “Keep crying, baby. It only turns me on more.” He growls, his voice dripping with sadistic glee. “Now, let's see if you can do better than that pathetic begging.” Another loud smack echoes through the room, followed by a long, agonizing pause. “Beg me to fuck you like your life depends on it. Like you'd rather die than not have my cock inside you.” His words hang in the air, heavy with demand, as he waits for your response.

“PLEASE, DADDY, PLEASE FUCK ME, I REALLY NEED TO HAVE YOU IN ME, I CRAVE YOUR DICK ABUSING MY INSIDES, PLEASE, I'M BEGGIN YOU, I'LL BE GOOD, I PROMISE, PLEASE FUCK ME, PLEASE DADDY, PLEASE, MAKE ME FEEL GOOD, DADDY PLEASE”

Chris watches intently as your desperate pleas pour out, his expression darkening with satisfaction at the sheer level of submission in your words. When you finally collapse into a whimpering mess, he allows himself a moment to revel in victory. “Pathetic.” He spits out, his voice tinged with disdain. “But... effective.” A sly grin spreads across his face as he steps back, admiring the ruined state of your ass.

“Show me just how much you need my cock.” Without waiting for a response, he grabs the base of his shaft and strokes it a few times, the sight of precum beading at the tip making your mouth water in anticipation.

He grunts, pushing forward until just the head of his cock breaches your tight folds. “Feel that?” He asks, his voice rough with arousal. “That's the tip of my dick claiming you as mine.” Without waiting for a reply, he pulls back slightly before surging forward, burying himself to the hilt within your welcoming depths.

Chris's breath hitches at the sound of your whimper, a primal satisfaction washing over him as he feels your walls clench around his invading length. He leans forward, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he starts to move, setting a relentless pace designed to drive you to the brink of madness. “That's it.” He encourages, his voice thick with lust. “Let Daddy hear those sweet little sounds.” His thrusts become more forceful, each movement designed to stretch you wider, to fill you completely. “You were made for my cock, weren't you?” He taunts, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in, ensuring you feel every inch of him.

I nod frantically as I whimper “Y-y-yes, d-daddy... th-thank y-you for f-f-fucking me” desperately. Chris's eyes flash with dark triumph at your desperate plea, his grip on your hips tightening to the point of bruising as he continues to pound into you with reckless abandon. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, punctuated by your high-pitched whimpers and cries of ecstasy. “You're welcome, baby.” He snarls, his voice dripping with dominance. “This is what you've been craving, isn't it?” His thrusts grow even more brutal, each one designed to push you closer to the edge. “To be filled, used, and owned by me.” He emphasizes his point by grinding his pelvis against your sensitive clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your overstimulated body. “Come for me, slut.” With those words, you feel yourself explode against his length.

The sensation of your squirting gushing onto his thighs only fuels Chris's desire, driving him closer to his own explosive climax. His thrusts become erratic as he chases after the intense pleasure radiating from your quivering core. “That's it, baby.” He growls, his voice strained with effort. “Squirt all over Daddy's cock.” Each word is punctuated by a particularly hard thrust, designed to elicit the maximum amount of pleasure from your already overwhelmed senses. “Fuck, you're so fucking tight.” He curses, his control slipping as he nears his peak. “You're gonna make me cum inside you, aren't you?”

I nod frantically “C-cum in me, please”. The pleading tone of your voice combined with the visual spectacle of your squirting and begging pushes Chris over the edge. With a guttural moan, he gives in to his basest instincts, his cock throbbing as he releases his hot seed deep inside your spasming walls. “Fuck!” He exclaims, his entire body tensing as he rides out his orgasm, filling you to the brim with his potent cum. “You're such a good girl, taking all of Daddy's cum.” His praise comes out in short pants, his grip on your hips loosening ever so slightly as he finally allows himself to relax into the aftershocks of his release.

As your body sags against the mattress, Chris gently withdraws from your spent pussy, his cock glistening with your mixed juices. He moves to lay beside you, pulling you into his arms for a gentle yet possessive embrace. “That was amazing, baby.” He murmurs, pressing soft kisses to your forehead. He wraps his arms tighter around you, holding you close. “Rest now, love.” He whispers, brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

[sinsofsummers]

cool about it

3.4k | boston!joel miller x f!reader

summary: it’s that day again. you don’t know why joel’s so withdrawn, but you help him manage it in the best way you know how. based on 'cool about it' by boygenius. warnings: angst angst angst, angsty smut (sorry), 18+, mdni, implied age gap (joel 50s, reader late 20s) grumpy & sad joel, drug use, alcohol use, oral (m receiving), p in v, creampie, shoulder kisses, pet names & slight praise, body worship kind of, feelings but also joel is bad at feelings, established...situationship. thing. pining (but don't tell them that). romance?? how dare you accuse them of such treachery note: i am so sorry...this is pure unbridled self-indulgence. pls forgive me. also this is set in boston qz, reader and joel have a similar relationship to the one he has with tess, but she doesn't exist in this au (i'm so sorry). also i am kind of so proud of this one

It's been years since you met him, since you've begun to crack his otherwise hard exterior, helping him shed every icy layer to reveal the tired, aging man beneath it all. You've both gone to unbelievable lengths to protect one another against any trouble, or enemy, or plague, that has cast itself in your way. Each night concludes with your limbs tangled together, hands tucked safely within each other's reach. A promise, so quiet it's hardly binding—I've got you.

You've never defined exactly what it means when he calls you sweet pea, or when his lips drop a chaste kiss to your forehead in the morning, or when his hand lingers on your elbow a little longer than normal in the QZ. It never needed to mean anything, so the two of you never spoke about it. You belong to him; he belongs to you.

And yet, every year, on the exact same morning, Joel Miller wakes up a stranger to you. His eyes return to the icy dark depths that you met him with, and his hands find purchase in his pockets rather than absentmindedly rubbing circles on your skin. Every year, without fail, he retreats to his past, a place he won't ever let you see, despite your every wish.

i came prepared for absolution, if you'd only ask

A few years after you met him, you had tried asking him to explain, to let you into his head. It wasn't an attempt at intimacy, or a vulnerability that resembled anything that you hadn't seen from him before, but he'd done nothing more than shake his head.

"M'fine," he'd said. The entire day, every time you asked, no matter how softly, his answer remained unchanged. "Don't feel much like talkin'."

So instead of talking, you'd resorted to letting him come back to you on his own time, in his own way. With rough hands pushing you down to lay on your back, his eyes far away even as he brought you to the edges of bittersweet ecstasy. His kisses were always softer, more distracted. But it was the only communication you ever got out of him on those days.

When he rolled over at night, his hands curled into loose fists, you let him be. He never refused your touch, but you knew enough to recognize when it wouldn't come as any comfort to him. Not on those nights. Never on those nights.

The closest you'd get to falling asleep in his arms on those nights was with a hand placed purposefully between your chest and his back, just close enough that he might lean into it, should he shift in his sleep. And in those soft brushes of skin against cloth lay a million questions.

Forgive me, you'd begged inwardly one night. Forgive me for not understanding, and I'll forgive you for not sharing.

When the sun rose on a new morning, he was always back to the man you were used to, that you had grown dependent on. When his hands reached for you, and when his mouth painted swirls on your chest, you knew that it was out of want for you, not to distract himself from the ghosts of his own past.

He always praised your body's reaction to him, and you always relished in the way that his hips rocked against yours, stretching you out for him—tongue, fingers, his hard intrusion—on those mornings after.

You'd left it at that, for a year or two.

once i took your medication to know what it's like

He'd been resorting to more intense solutions when you decided to do it. When that day came as it always did, you watched as he drowned out the hours with whiskey and pills. You never knew where his supply came from or who was responsible for getting him his drug of choice; you could only sit idly by and watch his features droop from the effects of the dangerous combination, shuffling to your shared bed before he'd pass out until the sun rose on the next morning.

It only took three instances of this before you'd resolved to go through the day exactly as he would, as if it might help you understand. Perhaps it wasn't anything you were meant to understand, but you'd grown weary of seeing him motionless for hours on end. Usually, you never said anything. You didn't really believe he would take enough to cause any real damage; you were blindly faithful in his will to live.

"Joel," you'd said one year. That was all. One syllable, so familiar, and yet it bled with enough warning in your tone that he paused. Don't.

Glass raised, the rim already pressed to his lips—the lips of which you knew every crack and curve—pills already dissolving on his tongue, he'd paused. His eyes never looked at you, though. He sat there, frozen but for the whiskey sloshing gently in the glass before he resumed, swallowing the dark liquid in one go. With hardly a glance in your direction, he'd collapsed to the bed.

You didn't know exactly why you did it, or why it had been that year that you'd become fed up, but you couldn't ignore the fear that struck your chest when you saw him hit the mattress. Before you knew it, you'd swallowed the pills, scowling at the burn of whiskey down your throat.

It had never been your choice of liquor, but you braved the sting in your foolish hopes that it might tell you something about the gray-haired man in your bed. Like drinking his whiskey might envelope you in his arms and whisper his secrets to you.

Laying down beside him, you'd curled up to his side. He was already deep in his drugged slumber; he wouldn't be conscious enough to move from your touch. With a hand on his chest, poised over his heart to reassure yourself that he still had one, you closed your eyes and succumbed to the heavy press of sleep.

When he woke, saw your own empty glass and pill bottle left open on the table, he shook you until you startled awake. Eyes bleary, the effects of the drugs wearing off, you caught him staring down at you, his nose brushing your cheek and his lips a hair's breadth from touching yours.

"Don't ever fuckin' do that again, sweet pea," he snarled, but his words held no malice. You tried to ignore how big his eyes were, pupils blown wide.

You'd wanted to snap at him, to tell him the same thing, but you heard the desperate begging in his voice. The unspoken please. So rather than causing a scene, you'd nodded slowly and let your fingers brush the hem of his shirt. "Okay," you'd whispered. "I won't. Never again, Joel," you repeated, a mantra as you slipped your hands underneath his shirt.

Sliding his arms under your body and pulling you to him, he pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose, then your cheeks, both of your eyelids. He finally bent to your lips, chasing the taste of you and finding only his own mistakes on your tongue.

The day had passed. He had survived. With the gentle lull of his hips slotting against your own, he had breathed shakily into your mouth as your hands wandered along his skin. Like clockwork, Joel Miller had returned to you, if only for a short while.

i ask you how you're doing, and i let you lie

One day, the pills ran out. The whiskey didn't do anything on its own, so Joel was stuck to find something else to distract him. Whether you were the one that flushed his pills or found who was supplying him, you'd never admit. It was much too close to a confession of something than either of you were comfortable with, so you'd stayed quiet. Helped him find a new vice.

These days, you've lost count of how many years you've seen him withdraw into himself, a shell of the man you know. You've stopped trying to follow where his mind goes when the sun rises on that early autumn day, and he's never made the attempt to explain. For just one day a year, the two of you are silent except for a few mumbled words. Your hands rarely touch on those days, always a few centimeters from each other as he sits at the table.

A reminder. That you're there, that he's there, and that the day will pass. It always does.

His new vice becomes you before long, and you can manage that. He's never particularly rough on those days, anyway; he just needs your body to distract his mind. It takes him a bit to sink into the comfort of your curves, but you always help him get there. Until he's twitching under your hands and letting his eyes flutter closed as you expertly undo his jeans.

You never make him fuck you when he's like this, but you're happy to oblige when he slips a hand between your thighs, reaching for your core and always finding it ready for him. If it pleases him, you let him take whatever he needs.

With whispered moans that make your chest constrict and rough fingers pressing bruises to your hips that he'll kiss away the next morning, he gets through the day.

Today, you know it's not one of those mornings. He's already been awake for a while when you open your eyes, based on his tense posture as he sits on the edge of the bed. He's facing the window, which means his back is to you, withholding his face from yours.

Of course, you don't need to look at him to know what his face will look like. His chin is tucked toward his chest, and his eyes will be closed, hands clenched together as if in prayer. But you know better than to think of Joel Miller as a spiritual man. Whatever faith he might have had all those years ago has withered into scraps. His only faith is in your constant presence in his bed each night.

You sit up slowly, and the sound of rustling sheets makes him twitch his head to the side, the sight of his jaw ticking the only acknowledgement of you being there. With slow movements, you move to sit behind him, your legs on either side of his hips but never close enough to touch. He's gotten better at allowing for a few more moments of contact, and you think this means he's making progress.

How could you ever be sure, though? When he still won't reveal the pain of today?

"Did you wake up to see the sunrise?" you ask gently, leaning forward and bracing your hands in front of you, waiting. His response will determine how you'll distract him for the coming hours.

As usual, Joel doesn't say anything, but his back reclines an inch. It's all you need.

"I'll bet it was real pretty," you continue, trying to keep your voice soft. This is one of your many routines; you lift your hands and press them to his back, just enough for him to feel your fingertips. You don't know if he listens to anything you say, or if he even cares. This part is just for you. This is how you get through these days.

You lean just a bit further, letting your forehead rest on his shoulder. Your hands slide around his middle and your stomach flips selfishly at the feeling of his muscles tensing beneath your featherlight touch. Reaching down for his lap, you rest your palm against his jeans, feeling him twitch against your hand. There he is.

Maybe it's sad, maybe it's fucked up, but fuck what anyone else would say. This is what he needs, the only thing that helps him stay out of his nightmarish memories, whatever they may be. You'll never ask him to show that side of himself, not anymore.

Pressing a kiss to his shoulder, you deftly work the button on his jeans, pushing the zipper down and reaching into his waistband until his half-hard cock comes free. It rests heavy in your hand, and you're comforted by the weight of it. His shoulders are too broad for you to see it, but you're not bothered by this. With another kiss, this one landing on the soft skin of his neck, you give him a languid stroke.

Joel's chest rises and falls as he breathes, and you can feel his arousal stirring as he grows firmer in your grip. His hands begin to unclench, but his fingers remain flat on his tights, never touching you outside of where your legs are hooked to his, your chest flush with his back.

The room is silent except for his breathing, every second getting more shallow. You can feel the tension in his back release a little, and you let your thumb rub a slow circle over the slit on his tip, precum just starting to leak onto your hand.

You stay like this for a few minutes, one arm wrapped around his stomach and your other hand on his cock, tugging slow enough not to overwhelm him, and fast enough to keep him pulsing in your hand.

Only when his hips buck involuntarily do you let go, moving from your place behind him to the floor. Your knees hit the wood hard, but you ignore the pain as your hands slide up his thighs.

His own hands remain still on his jeans, and he lets you interlock your fingers with his own. A small mercy. Today might not be as bad as the years before, and you dip your head to lick a stripe from base to tip before closing your mouth around the head of his cock.

Joel's fingers twitch in your grasp, and you squeeze back, hardly noticeable. Just enough to act as thanks. Thank you for letting me do this. For you.

You never look up, afraid of what his eyes will betray when your mouth is around him. You know this is only a distraction, a slow respite from his thoughts. So you ignore the impatient pulse between your thighs and take him as deep as he'll go, your hopes lifting when you hear his shaky sighs.

One of his hands released yours and lands on your head, smoothing your hair as his hips fight to keep still. Your head bobs up and down, your spit mixing with his precum to leave a shining mess on his shaft.

He pats your head softly, the wet sounds of your mouth on him the only noise in the room. But then he's opening his mouth, and he's combing his fingers through your hair, and he's mumbling, "thank you, sweet pea," just quiet enough that you think you're imagining it.

Maybe you did. He doesn't say it again, and you don't look up to see how wrecked he looks. You're content to remain on your knees the entire day if it means he can relax, let go of whatever's haunting him.

But then he's pulling your head back, his cock leaving your mouth with a wet pop. Hands under your arms, he tugs you to stand in front of him. This time you do let yourself look at him, but his eyes don't lift to meet yours. He tugs your shorts and panties from your body, and once you step out of them he splays his hands on the backs of your thighs to pull you onto his lap.

His head is still tipped toward where your bodies rest against each other, rocking your pelvis against the length of his cock with a shuddering sigh. But you don't mind the view; you sit just a few inches taller than him in this position, so you can brace yourself against his shoulders, your chin resting against the top of his head.

He reaches down to rub a few quick circles on your clit, and you let him move your hips when he's ready, lodging his cock at your entrance. You're dripping, you have been this entire time, but you'd shoved down the heady desire that had punched its way through your body until he was ready. Now, with his hand guiding his tip into your sopping cunt, you let out a breath. There he is, a voice in your head repeats.

He pushes your hips down at an agonizingly slow pace, your pussy swallowing every inch of him, the sounds of your moans colliding at the feeling. "So good to me," he mumbles, pressing a kiss to your sternum and tilting his head back, closing his eyes. "Perfect."

You know that he doesn't think he deserves your praise, but you give it to him anyway. "That's it," you hum, squirming with his cock buried to the hilt. It's all you can do not to lift your hips and drag yourself up and down his length. "Take what you need, Joel."

He never lasts long when he can feel your walls squeezing his cock for all it's worth, your body betraying you when your mind just wants to remain warm and wet and ready for him all day long, until he's ready to be done with you. But with one look at you, his dark eyes finally connecting to yours, he blinks. "Thank you, sweat pea," he murmurs again.

You lift your thumb to his forehead and you trace the lines on his weathered skin, watching as your touch releases the tension from his face. All that's left is his desire, his need for you, however distracted it may be.

Joel lets himself enjoy this, as he rocks his hips into yours, the head of his cock brushing that spot deep inside you until you're shaking in his hands, forehead tipped against his as you let your moans fill the space between the two of you. He lifts your hips, pulling you nearly all the way off of him until he shoves you back down, the delicious squelch of your pussy on his cock wrenching a knee-buckling groan from his lips. "Where?" he asks, as he does every time.

You don't need to tell him, but you do. "Fill me up, Joel," you coo, a shot of pleasure spreading throughout your entire body. "Come with me, I'm right here with you."

"That's it, darlin'," is all he groans before he's wrapping his arms around your back, tugging your chest to him in a tight embrace. His face disappears into the space between your breasts and you feel his entire body quiver with yours as you reach your peak. Warmth floods your core as he spills his release into you, your walls fluttering with the intensity of your orgasm. You pull him to you, returning his near-painful embrace.

You're as close as lovers, as close to one another as you can physically get, but it'll never be enough.

The high after he comes inside you is fleeting. Only a few minutes pass before the line inevitably returns to his brow and his frown deepens after he softens. He doesn't lift you off of him, though, so you soak up the feeling while you can.

"Better?" you whisper, eyes locked on his.

He nods slowly after a moment, his mouth set in a grim line. "Always," he mumbles gently, his hand cupping your jaw as his thumb strokes your bottom lip. He presses his thumb into your mouth to the first knuckle, letting you taste salt and old sweat and your nectar on his skin.

You know better than to believe him, but you don't argue. Not today, never today. So you lift the corners of your lips in a sad smile and pretend that it doesn't feel like water rising in your lungs every time this day comes.

but we don't have to talk about it

i can walk you home and practice method acting

i'll pretend being with you doesn't feel like drowning

tellin' you it's nice to see how good you're doing

even though we know it isn't true

Joel will never tell you what's on his mind. Never today. September 26th won't ever mean anything to you, so why would he bother? For him, it's everything and nothing all at once. Brown curls and sparkling young eyes and blood crusted on his arms and the unforgettable weight of death in his arms.

Another year older, he sighs, his heart clenching in grief. Another year older, and another year further from everything he's lost.

tysm for reading, here's a box of tissues. :') i love u all

[st-eve-barnes]

Leverage (Michael Gavey x fem Reader)

Chapter 1

Summary: When your ex threatens to release some very personal videos you are left with no choice but to do what he asks: seduce the biggest nerd on campus, Michael Gavey. Will you rock his world or will he fundamentally change yours?

Word count: +2300

Warning for the entire fic: 18+ for explicit content and language. Kissing, oral sex (male receiving), dry humping, hand job, fingering, p in v sex. First kiss and loss of virginity. Experienced reader. Enemies to lovers vibes.

Fluff, smut and of course angst (my favorite combination! lol) I haven't watched Saltburn yet so all characters in this fic except for Michael are my own.

Chapter 2 will be posted next week and the plan is to post weekly, there will be 4-5 chapters (depending on how far the muse takes me)

***

All my fics are also on AO3

***

You should have known something was off the second Ben sat down in front of you in the library that morning. You two hadn’t spoken since you’d broken up, some 6 months ago now. The split had been amicable but neither of you had felt the need to pretend to remain friends afterwards. He was a stranger to you now and you preferred it that way.

You both moved in different social circles in the university these days, meaning he was living his dream as a popular fuck boy getting drunk every night and you spent most nights in your dorm room focusing on your studying.

“I need a favor,” he bluntly started the conversation.

“No,” you answered without looking up from your book.

“I think you should hear me out first.”

“Ben, we haven’t spoken in months,” you sighed,”What makes you think I would help you now?”

He leaned closer to you over the table, making you lean back to keep the distance between you two.

“The firm I’ve been dreaming of getting into is offering an internship to whoever scores highest on this upcoming test,” he explained.

“Great, you should start hitting the books then.”

“It’s no use.”

“Why not? I thought you were so smart?”

“I am so smart,” he smirked, making you roll your eyes,”But not as smart as him.”

You looked up and noticed he wasn’t looking at you anymore but his gaze was drawn to the guy sitting a few tables away. You recognized him instantly: ugly outdated shirt, even uglier beige cargo pants and big glasses on his nose, buried into his books as usual. The biggest nerd on campus and beyond: Michael Gavey.

“He’s your competition?” you snorted,”Good luck with that!”

“Luck won’t help me, that’s why I need your help.”

“What on earth am I going to do? I suck at math, you know that.”

“That’s not why I need you,” he shook his head and sighed,”A job at that firm is my dream, it’s what I’ve always wanted and worked towards for the past two years.”

“And if you pass that test you’ll get it.”

“Nobody can beat Gavey, everyone knows the guy’s a fucking genius.”

“Then he deserves the internship, don’t you think?”

”He can literally get any job he chooses, I need this one and I won’t let that freak take it from me.”

For the first time you leaned forward and looked into his eyes, indulging him and giving into your own curiosity.”What do you want from me then?”

“Look at him, I bet that guy’s never even had a girl look at him twice, especially not a pretty girl like you, that dude’s got virgin written all over him, hasn’t he?”

“How is that any of your business, Ben? Maybe he’s not even interested in girls, you ever though of that?” you opted, deliberately ignoring his compliment.

“Oh, believe me he’s interested, I’ve seen him stare when he thinks nobody’s looking. He may pretend to be above all that but the fucker is just as horny as the rest of us.”

“Speak for yourself.” You leaned back and kept your eyes on him while you crossed your arms,”You still haven’t told me what you want from me.”

“I was thinking, having a pretty girl like you pay attention to him might take his mind off all this studying, a distraction like that could kill a man’s entire focus.”

“Only a man who thinks with his dick.”

He smirked at you,”Or a man who’s never had his dick touched.”

“You’re fucking disgusting."

He lifted his hands in innocence,”I just want you to distract the guy a little, make him forget about stupid tests and internships so I can have a fighting chance.”

”You want me to fuck him,” you realized.

He gave you a lazy smirk, his gaze hardening suddenly,“I want you to do whatever it takes to ruin him.”

The words left his mouth so casually and easily it was making you nervous.

“You’re mad, there’s no way. Ask one of the whores you always hang out with, I’m sure there’s plenty…”

“I’ve asked, none of them want him.”

You sighed, annoyed.”Of course they don’t.”

“I need it to be you.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re the only one I can convince to do this.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that and you shook your head,”You’re out of your mind if you think I would even consider…”

He didn’t let you finish your sentence but instead shoved a photo towards you on the table.

“What is this?”

“This is what I would call leverage.”

You looked at him in confusion,”This is just a blurry picture, what am I supposed to be looking at?”

He smirked at you,”Do you remember that one night we got insanely crazy drunk and I borrowed my roommate’s camera?”

It was only then that you realized what you were watching. It was a picture of a video. A video of a night you had tried very hard to erase from your memory, a night you wished had never happened.

“You kept that?” you asked quietly, the unsettling feeling in the pit of your stomach quickly growing. 

“It never left my computer,” he said as if it was something to be proud of,”And I guess…we’d both like it to stay on there wouldn’t we? And not…get lost on the internet or around university or something, I mean…I imagine you wouldn’t want that, right?”

You looked at him in complete disbelief and your voice was shaking with your next words,”You wouldn’t…you wouldn’t do that.”

His dark eyes stayed locked on yours,”Don’t doubt that I will do whatever it takes to get what I want, sweetheart.”

You shivered at the cold determination in his tone.

“I’m sorry,” he added,” but I need you to do what I ask if you want that video to stay with me. Get to know Gavey, make him believe you’re interested, how far you take it…is entirely up to you. Just make it work.”

****

You found Michael in his same spot in the library the next day, leaning on his elbow while he was taking notes in one of his many text books. 

For a few moments you just watched him from a distance, watched how enthralled he was in his work, how focussed his eyes were on the pages in front of him, how he kept pushing up his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose in concentration. If the world around him caught on fire right now he probably wouldn’t even notice, all he had eyes for were the numbers in front of him. Ben was right to fear him, this guy’s focus was top-tier, it would take a lot more than a silly girl like yourself to break it. 

But what choice did you have? You had to try.

You stood frozen for a while, uncertain as to how you were going to proceed. You didn’t want to be here and just the thought of what you had to do made your stomach turn. But Ben had left you with no other choice. If that video ever saw the light of day it was over for you.

You swallowed your nerves and walked up to Michael’s table and took a seat opposite him, trying to act both casual and confident. But you were too nervous to pull either of those off.

You cleared your throat before you spoke,”Hey.��

Michael didn’t react, he didn’t even flinch, making you think he hadn’t heard you at all. 

You opened your mouth to speak again but he beat you to it,”What do you want?”

He was still writing and didn’t bother to look up at you.

“Michael?” you asked carefully,”Michael Gavey?”

“You know my name, congratulations, what do you want?”

Your heart sank. How were you ever going to distract this guy when he didn’t even acknowledge your presence? How were you in any position to get his attention when he wasn’t even interested enough to grant you a simple glance?

This was going to be a lot harder than you thought.

“I need a tutor,” you blurted out.

“I’m not your guy,” he answered immediately with a small shake of his head.

“So you’re not the smartest guy on campus then? Shit, I must have been misinformed,” you tried to lighten the mood and it seemed to work.

His lips curled up into the tiniest of smiles but it was gone as quickly as it appeared,”Flattery doesn’t work on me.”

“Flattery works on everyone. Come on.”

He was shaking his head again all the while still writing things down in his notebook, determined to keep up his act of ignoring you and it was starting to piss you off.

“It’s rude not to look at people when they talk to you, you know?” 

Michael just shrugged his shoulders,”Tutoring is a waste of my time, go find someone else.”

“You’re the smartest guy here.”

“I already told you, flattery will get you nowhere.”

“I can pay you,” you blurted out and just like that you had his attention. He stopped writing and put his pen down, finally looking up to meet your eyes.

“Right,” he sighed,”Because money opens every door, does it?” 

His gaze was hard and his lips pursed in a thin line, he was clearly annoyed with you.

“No, that’s not…”

”You rich pricks think money will buy you everything your little heart desires. It’s fucking pathetic.”

“That’s not what I meant…I’m not…” you sighed, defeated as you watched Michael pack up his notebooks and rise from his seat.

“Piss off, spoilt little rich girl and ask one of your rich friends to tutor you. I am not your guy.”

And that was it. You failed before you even had the chance to really try. You weren’t one to give up easily but after that interaction you had no hope of ever getting close to Michael Gavey. The guy was rude and insufferable and clearly not interested in you in any way.

You tried to carry on with your days after that but the weight of Ben’s threat was hanging over your shoulders and dragging you down, making you anxious every day. You were frustrated at the power he still held over you. And even more frustrated by the fact that there was nothing you could do about it.

Your mind was somewhere else entirely when you started your shift at the local pizza place that Thursday night. At least work gave you something to do and keep yourself busy instead of eating yourself up with worry every night. When the manager called asking if you were available for some extra shifts that week you jumped at the chance.

You were working on automatic pilot that night, making your way through the tables and taking clients orders when you arrived at his table.

“Good evening, sir, how may I help you tonight?”

It was only when you looked up and the person in front of you lowered his menu that you recognized him. Gavey.

He opened his mouth to speak but stopped when his eyes met yours, a flash of recognition running across his face.

“It’s…you,” he realized and looking at your name plate he called you by your name.

“Yes, it’s me, hi,” you sighed, trying to stay polite even though he had been so rude to you last time. God, please, don’t let him be a difficult customer, you were not in the mood for this tonight. “What can I get for you, Michael?” you asked with your best customer service smile.

Much to your surprise Michael returned your smile with one of his own, a little awkward and probably as forced as yours but at least he wasn’t calling you names or yelling at you this time. And instead of avoiding your eyes he couldn’t seem to look away from you tonight.

“You…work here?” he asked, confused,”I’ve never seen you here before.”

“I usually only work the weekends, I’m filling in for a sick colleague tonight,” you explained,”The extra money is always welcome, you know.”

“You’re not…you’re not one of them,” he realized, his voice softer than you had ever heard it.

“One of who?” 

“Those vapid rich cunts you always hang out with.”

And just like that he was making it harder to remain polite again.

“They’re just my class mates, Michael, they’re not friends. Unlike some people I am mature enough to be civilized and polite to people even if I don’t like them much. It’s called being an adult, you should try it some time.”

Michael was quiet, his eyes dropping down to the menu before he gave you his order and sank back down into his seat. You almost felt sorry for him seeing him sit there all alone while most people were out with friends tonight.

Almost. Maybe if the guy wasn’t such a dick all the time he’d have friends to have dinner with and not look like such a loser.

When you returned with his food shortly after he just gave you a polite nod and a quiet “Thank you”, which you reciprocated with a quick nod of your own.

“You didn’t spit into my food, did you?” he then asked, making you turn back around.

“No,” you sighed,”I wouldn’t do that. Not even to you.”

He smiled weakly,“Not even when I deserve it?”

You couldn’t help your lips from curling up into a little smile at his unexpected admission of guilt,”No, not even then.”

“Thanks,” he nodded quickly.

“Enjoy your food.”

When you came to his table later to clean up you found a napkin properly folded with your name written on it. You opened it to find a generous tip inside and a message: “Food was excellent, customer service needs some work”

You shook your head and rolled your eyes,”Fucking asshole.” But then you read the next line:

“PS If you still want that tutor meet me in the library tomorrow night at 8”

[ramp-it-up]

II Most Wanted Part 8: Time For Something New

Pairing: Syverson x OFC Reader "Buttercup"

Summary: You give Sy your answer and take steps into the future.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. RPF. S MUT, ANGST, FLUFF. The porn part of this chapter got away from me y'all. I was as surprised as Sy. Angst, fluff, passion. Sex in committed relationship. Mirror sex, fingering, clit slap, Sir kink, Mrs. Kink, dirty talk, cream kink, size kink, raw p in v, oral sex (f receiving), praise/degredation kink, command kink, Sy in the workplace, hard hat kink, toxic construction worksite, jealous Sy… omg.

Read at your own risk.  Not Beta’d. All errors my own.

A/N:  This is the eighth installment of II Most Wanted. I'm in love with these two; they are bringing my writer heart back to life. If you like it, please reblog and comment.

I don't have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

Previous part here

-------

“I am asking you to marry me, Buttercup.”

Sy summoned all of his military discipline for this moment. He had to stick this landing because he knew you were shaky. All of his heart and soul was tied up into this one moment.

You stared at Sy, then at the ring, then at Sy again. 

You saw that he was so sure of you and this love, and it took all that was inside you not to sob. You cleared your throat as you opened your mouth to speak.

“Deep down, I knew that everything was leading to this if I got back in with you this weekend, and that’s why I spent most of our time together trying to run from it. You terrify me, Sy.”

Big, fat tears rolled down your face as Sy’s eyes telegraphed an apology.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, but love me and try to let me know how much. But it is the scariest thing in the world when I’ve had your love ripped away and never thought I would experience it again.

You took a shaky breath as Sy listened to you. 

“I think I always knew that you still loved me though, no matter how much time had passed or how far away we were from each other.”

Sy nodded and smiled ruefully at you.

“After I left Scott, I decided that the safest bet would be to be by myself, to never be dependent on anyone else for my happiness. And I felt safe being alone. No one could disappoint me, or hurt me but me. When I decided to come back here for the reunion, I prepared my armor against you.”

Sy brought the ring down to his lap and looked down on it, his eyes suddenly wet. He tried to just let you get it out, but his heart was in a free fall. You reached out and grasped his chin, bringing his watery eyes up to yours.

“But you are my one weakness. And I can’t deny that, no matter how much I tried. I can’t let myself get in the way of this love.”

You took a deep breath as you tried not to sob.

“I have always, always loved you, Jacob Allen Syverson, and I always will.”

You nodded as the tears spilled from both of your eyes. You leaned forward to meet him halfway, both of you pressing  your lips together in a wet, salty kiss. Then you pulled back and got on your knees with him.

“It’s time for something new. Time out for playing it safe. I’m not going to give up this second chance at love. So, yeah, I will marry you Sy. If you will marry me.”

You laughed as Sy tackled you and lifted you up on the couch, bear hugging you so tight that you couldn’t breathe.

“Shit, Buttercup, you had me thinking you were going to drop me like a hot potato, but you’re stuck with me now. Forever.”

You kissed his mouth until his smile melted into yours, and you let his fingers put the ring on your hand. You admired it for a second then looked up at Sy, giving him a sweet kiss that affected your entire body as he enveloped you in his arms again. 

Sy was like a man possessed. All he wanted to do was to inhale you, to taste you, to feel you around him. He wanted to lose himself in you. His mouth was on your mouth, your neck, your forehead, every piece of exposed skin he could reach, and his hands were everywhere, pulling on his t-shirt to expose as much of you as he could.

Then, a thought entered his head and he slowed down, palms rubbing the skin of your hips slower now, more deliberate.

“Let me show you exactly how much I love you… how much you mean to me…”

Sy’s mouth rumbled against your throat. 

“Sy, you’ve already–”

He pulled back so that you could see his eyes. They were glowing with love and with need.

“Buttercup, you don’t understand. You’re going to be mine. I have to try and show you how I feel about that.”

And then he swept you up in his arms, bridal style, as you clung to him and got lost in his eyes, letting yourself be carried away on the short journey down the hall to the bedroom.

You were divested of the shirt and panties, laying back as Sy took stock of your body, his eyes and his mouth christening every inch of your body, from the crown of your head to the soles of your feet. 

“Love you, love you so much Buttercup. Soon to be Mrs. Syverson…” 

It was a constant litany as he ignited the entirety of your skin. 

“Need you, Sy…”

He was still clothed and that didn’t seem fair. You reached for his pants, and he moved away from you and stood at the foot of the bed. You sat up on the edge, watching the show he was putting on for you.

“Love how you look at me Buttercup. Make me feel like I’m the man.”

Sy’s heart was pounding as he reached behind him and pulled his t-shirt off, the way you bit your lip and dragged your eyes up the length of him making him even harder than he was before.

“You are the man, Sy. You are so fine. Make me wanna touch myself to the sight of you.”

Your hand was on your knee and you started trailing it up your thigh as Sy pulled his sweatpants down, causing his unclothed cock to slap him in the abs as he stood back up. He licked his lips.

“As much as I want to watch you do that, baby, some other time. Right now, like I said. I got something to show you.”

You raised your eyebrow. 

“Oh? You gonna give me a show?”

Sy’s smile and blush sent you. 

“Maybe later, Buttercup. Right now…”

He quickly moved to sit behind you on the edge of the bed, enveloping you in a warm embrace. Sy held you between his legs in front of the giant mirror on the wall across from the foot of the massive king sized bed. The hard rock of his cock poked you in your back, but you settled against him as he spoke into your ear.

“I have so much to let you know...”

He nuzzled into your neck as his long, thick fingers slowly skipped along your collarbone, and your chest. He traced the hills of your breasts to the stiff peaks of your nipples, and into the valley between them down your stomach.

“When I built this house, it was always with you in mind. Had this mirror especially made. You need to see how beautiful you are. Always. Need to feel what I feel when I look at you, Buttercup. Watch.”

You were quaking at his words and his touch, almost overcome and your pussy weeping rivulets onto the duvet.

One of Sy’s hands went to your trembling lips, tracing them and then descended toward your throat, gently grasped your jaw and turning and tilting your head up so that you were staring straight into the mirror. His other hand dipped into the patch of dark hair between your legs and his fingertips dipped to the crease of skin where your thigh tucked into your torso next to your wet folds. 

“This bit of skin here, just here. Feels like silk. Love it. Love to run my fingers, my lips there...”

Your eyes met his as you gasped and remembered that each time Sy went down on you he would linger there, but you didn’t single it out as you were too caught up in your own pleasure. Your eyes flicked downward as Sy played with his favorite part of you and extended his fingers, brushing against the stiff clit that was peeking out and yearning for his touch. He pulled your thighs apart, eyes sparkling as you caught his glance and his lips curled into a sexy smirk.

“Look at yourself, Buttercup. So wet for me. Always. I am such a lucky, lucky man.”

You watched as Sy’s fingers circled your nub and then traveled down to dip into your wet heat. His other hand traveled a path to your stiff nipple and expertly pinched it just as you arched into his hand.

“See how beautiful?”

He reached down for your knee and brought it up so that your foot was on the bed now, having you brazenly displaying your most intimate parts and your wanton movement at his ministrations to them. You gasped as you closed your eyes and felt a sharp slap on your pussy.

“Make sure that you keep your eyes open. Don’t want to have to punish you again.”

“Oh my god...Please, Sy…”

You didn’t know what you were begging for, was it punishment, or mercy?

Sy’s cock pulsed behind you as he dipped his head and sucked a spot on your neck that made you keen. His voice was a bit gruffer as he replied to you.

“Not tonight,” His tongue soothed the hickey he’d made. “We’ve got time for that, Buttercup.”

His naughty promise made you arch in his grip, your ass meeting his balls and your breast shoved further into his hand. His voice turned back to velvet, and it seemed that you needed just a modicum of stimulation to have you hurtling over the edge.

Your palms were resting on his thick, hairy thighs as you sunk into the solid planes of his chest and abdomen, but they moved to the duvet cover as he and hooked both of your legs over his and widening his spread, splaying you open even more to the light of the bedroom.

The thought entered your head that you should have been embarrassed, but then you chased it away with the next thought that entered your head, and that you uttered.

“‘M soo wet and ready for you Sy. Only you, future husband…always ready for you, baby.”

A low groan rumbled past his lips as he stopped teasing and shoved two fingers into you, swiftly filling you up and causing your mouth to form a wide O.

“There she is. My beautiful little sexy wifey.” 

You watched as Sy finger fucked you, your cunt sloshing and swallowing his digits as they pumped in and out. Sy felt how you wrapped around his fingers and he realized that he was sliding his leaking cock against your spine. 

“Damn, so fucking wet and tight for me, baby. I’m trying to hold out, but you make it hard,” he pressed his erection into your back. “Literally.”

You felt the coil tighten in the core of you as you took his thumb in your mouth and fellated it as if it were his dick. He groaned again.

“What did you say the other day? Wanna be my what? My what kinda slut?”

“OhmygodSy!”

You couldn’t breathe.

You arched your back and tried to pull away, to run from the impending doom that watching him fuck you like this was creating, but he held you fast, making you watch him bury his now three fingers knuckle deep inside you again and again.

Sy kissed the tip of your ear as he leaned down to whisper conspiratorially to you.

“What was it again? What kind of slut you wanna be? What is it you need? What do I love to see you do? Wait a minute… let me think…”

Sy was commanding you to hold it the smoothest way possible, and when your eyes started rolling into the back of your head was when he relented.

“I remember now. Cum. Cum for me baby. I’m such a cum slut for you, too, Butterup…”

His hand squeezed your breast and pinched your nipple simultaneously as you hurtled over the cliff.

“O- Ohhhhhhhhh!”

“Thaaat’s right. Take it for me Buttercup. So fucking hot.”

You obeyed his order as the sensation washed over you and your pussy clenched around his fingers. You try to run again as Sy didn’t stop, but gradually slowed down as your pulses subsided and the wetness of your arousal increased. He held your face forward for you to watch as you slumped against him.

“Fuck… Sy…that was… shit…”

You felt him poking you in the back and you reached behind you as you craned your neck up to receive his tongue in your mouth for a sloppy kiss.

“Hmm, Buttercup. Not done with you yet.”

Sy took your hips in his hands and pulled you onto the bed, your hips presented to him, with your head still near the foot of the bed. You wiggled your ass as Sy kissed each of your cheeks and then licked a stripe up the middle of you and then dove in for more.

He destroyed your soul for a minute and then stopped, causing your eyes to snap open and meet his in the mirror. He straightened up and you tried to push back, onto his hard and leaking cock, or his thigh, anything that would give you that feeling you so desperately needed at the moment.

“I need you to watch me as I clean up this mess I made back here. Taste so fucking good. Keep your eyes open while I eat you out.”

You shivered.

“Yes, Sir.”

Sy raised his eyebrow; he felt like sinking deep into you. And so he did, stretching you out like it was the first time and causing you to bite your lip.

“Fuccckkk! Just can’t control myself no matter how hard I try, Buttercup.”

He looked down at your cunt swallowing his cock and he couldn't take it. He squeezed his eyes shut.

“So gotdamn hot and so fucking tight. Take me so well.”

You watched the look of agony/ecstasy on his face as he held your hips and drilled into you like a mad man, bearing his teeth and going all out, his feral look causing you to spasm your way into another orgasm.

He fucked you through it and then pulled out, causing you to scream in protest. Sy looked at you in the mirror and laughed, shaking his head.

“No ma’am, this is not how this is gonna go.”

Sy’s heart was pounding out of his chest despite his denial. His plan to make slow, sensuous love to you was ruined, because you were ruining him. He had to calm down. Then he saw the cream you’d left on his dick and his eyes rolled.

You practically came again as Sy grabbed his wet cock and stroked it as he looked at your upturned ass. Then he stopped and looked at you. Your mouth was open and you could tell that he was squeezing the base of himself and clenching his jaw.

“Give it to me Sy…give me your cum… please.”

He looked down at your pussy clenching on air and started jacking his cock again, a man possessed. Sy felt like he was going to die if he didn’t get back inside you right away. He shook his head, growled, slapped your ass and plunged inside you.

“Well ain’t that a daisy. Turns out…holy fuck…I can’t stop. Gonna give you this cum. Fuck fuck, holy fuck! This pussy is so good.”

You leaned down and delivered the perfect arch for him and he roared. He felt as if cum came spurting out of him like never before as he pounded you out.

“Jesus! Cum with me Buttercup!”

“Yesss. YesssssfeelssogoodddddSy!”

Sy sounded emotional as you cried for it, yelling in approval as his hot cum splashed against your shuddering walls.

You collapsed with Sy on top of you, his weight a comfort as you felt him soften and your mixed fluids leak out of you. You stayed that way for a few minutes listening to your breaths subside until Sy stirred and then tilt your head up so you could look at him in the mirror again.

He kissed your cheek then raised his eyebrow.

“Now. Like I said. Watch me as I clean up this mess I made back here.”

You gasped, scandalized.

“Sy! I have to get up for my interview–”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make it so you get a good night’s sleep, Buttercup.”

And all you could do was watch as he fulfilled his promise.

—-

You did sleep like a log after a few more orgasms which involved the shower, but you popped right up to get ready for your interview in the morning.

Sy was up as well, scheduled to go into work for the morning while you met with the team at ReHome, and you smiled as you brushed your teeth together in the double sink in the master bath. You also allowed yourself a minute to admire him cleaning up his beard with his clippers. 

You could get used to this.

You dressed in a form fitting pencil skirt and flowy blouse with the attached tie that conveniently hid the hickey that Sy gave you the night before. You grinned at your hair and makeup as you admired the look in the mirror. You felt like a queen.

The whistle that your fiance gave you as you entered the kitchen boosted your confidence even more.

“Holy Shit, Buttercup. You look competent as hell.”

You laughed at Sy as he handed you a cup of your favorite tea. He’d bought a half a year’s supply when you pointed it out at the store the day before.

Yeah. You made the right choice.

“Thank you Sweetie. I feel good.”

Sy raised his eyebrow at you.

“Sweetie? What has caused this sudden turn of a pet name?”

You held up your hand.

“I’m wifey, remember?”

Sy feigned forgetfulness, “Oh yeah. That.” 

He grinned as he pulled you into his arms and gave you a quick peck, releasing you so that your clothes didn’t wrinkle.

“We’ll talk about that more later. Right now, we need to get you downtown.”

30 minutes later, your heart started to pound as you walked into the ReHome building, and you turned and waved at Sy before he drove away in Betty. Then, you lifted your head and walked inside, reminding yourself that you were fucking spectacular at what you did, and that they would be lucky to get you.

—

Sy was on a construction site, a complex of sliding scale rate apartments, trying to get his drywallers in line because two young bucks decided to bring their beef from the strip club to work. He had Cole by the collar and was holding Joe back with another hand as as he tried to prevent them from fighting. 

“You two need to keep this shit off my fucking worksite and get back to work before I bang your fucking heads together, ya gotdamn neanderthals…”

Suddenly, he felt the crowd of workers' attention shift, even the two idiots he had in hand. Billy, his foreman emitted a low whistle and muttered something under his breath.

“…a look at that piece of…”

The hair on Sy’s neck raised as he turned his head to see you walking toward him with a hard hat on. It was sexy as fuck.

He watched as Mike Ackerman walked close to you. Funny, he used to like the guy, but a strange feeling of possession and something else he couldn’t name rose within him when he saw him next to you.

“….you’re choking me….”

Sy remembered himself when Cole gasped, and he released both him and Joe and then turned to threaten Billy.

“Watch what the fuck what you’re saying, William. That is if you wanna live to take another breath.”

Billy shut his mouth as Sy straightened up and walked toward your group.

—

The interview had gone swimmingly.

The first thing you did was to disclose your relationship with Sy. The director of ReHome, Mike Ackerman, and his board chair, Nancy Christiansen, didn’t flinch.

The rest of the time went so well that Ackerman barreled ahead off script (you could tell at his secretary’s flustered reaction to his requests) and asked you about salary, moving logistics and start dates, even though you hadn’t formally accepted the job yet.

When Mr. Ackerman suggested you go to a work site of a current project where Castle Builders were working, you jumped at this unexpected chance to see Sy in his element. You had an hour before Sy was scheduled to pick you up and you decided to save him a trip.

When you pulled up to the site, you deftly donned the protective head gear and did not let your heels stop you from striding confidently through the construction debris. As you rode the service elevator to the fourth floor of the structure, you heard raised voices and distinct profanity as you got closer.

Hearing Sy’s voice above the fray made you feel some kind of way. 

“Well, you’ll get to see Sy handle problems in real time, Ms. YLN.”

Mike smiled at you as Nancy shook her head and smiled, and both of them advanced toward the ruckus. You were shook.

There was Sy, in a hard hat, sleeves rolled up, veins popping, a look of pure dominance on his face and handling two grown men as if they were rag dolls. Damn he was hot. You hoped that everyone couldn’t see that your nipples were hard.

Everyone but Sy.

Someone whistled and everyone saw your group approaching and separated, while Sy whispered to a man at his side, looking none too pleased. Then, he turned to you, his countenance that of an angel.

“Look what we have here. VIPs.”

You couldn’t tell how Sy was feeling about it, but you smiled at him angelically.

“Hullo Sy,” Mike drawled familiarly, “I hear that you know Ms. YLN?”

Sy sideyed Mike, smiled at Nancy, and then gazed at you, taking you all in as if he hadn’t seen you this morning. He didn’t miss the look on your face or the way your tits sat all perked up for him in that shelf bra he saw you put on today. He wished you weren’t getting on a plane in a few hours.

“Yes, Yes I do. In fact, we go way back.”

Sy paused and looked around the space.

“And we’re about to go real far into the future.”

“Yes, I hear congratulations are in order for you both.”

Mike still had an inscrutable smirk on his face.

“Holy shit. This your girl, Cap?”

Billy had a sinking feeling that he was toast.

Sy wasn’t going to kill Billy, but he was super annoyed.

“This is YFN/YLN. Architect for ReHome and my future wife. She’s a woman. And a professional, so act like you’re one too, before I relieve you of your profession.”

Cole and Joe were whispering and laughing together, their beef forgotten at the revelation of Sy’s relationship. 

“Get back to work, you’ve all wasted enough time as it is. We better be on track when I come back this afternoon.”

Billy was all business now.

“Sure thing, Cap. Back to work.”

Sy smirked at you quickly before his face settled back into his professional persona.

“You all need a tour?”

You could be a professional. Just like Sy.

“Mike thought it would be a good idea to see the work site as part of the interview.”

Ackerman cleared his throat.

“Yes, I wanted to get Ms. YLN’s opinions on the construction…”

Sy tried not to zone out as the idea that he would so love to hear his last name at the end of yours, but he gleaned enough to get the gist of the conversation.

“Sure thing, let’s head over this way– Watch out for those nails there- we’ve done something a little different…”

Your brain short circuited as Sy’s hand touched your back to steer you away from a construction hazard, but you got back on track pretty quickly.

—-

45 minutes later, you were waving at Mike and Nancy as they drove away and headed toward a small trailer at the edge of the construction site. Sy’s ‘field office.’

You entered the small space which was mostly occupied by two desks, two file cabinets, a small refrigerator, and a coffee pot was a quarter full of coffee. You heard Sy closing and possibly locking the door as you noticed saw some drawings of the construction on one desk and you leaned over to look more closely and sighed contentedly.

“I’m so excited, Sy! That went so well. I think this job is a sure thing.”

Sy walked up close behind you and pressed the steel bar in his pants into your expensively clothed backside.

“Me too, Buttercup. And I’ll tell you what else is a sure thing.”

“Jake Syverson…”

———

Reblog if you liked it!

Next part here.

[definitelynotafurinasimp]

Then, Can You make a fluff oneshot between Beidou and Make Reader with kuudere Personality and Cryo vision?

Beidou with a cold reader

characters: Beidou x gn!reader

warnings: none, just fluff

a/n: I haven't written for Beidou in… a while. So if I got some aspects of her character wrong I’m really sorry! If it shouldn't be to your liking, tell me and I'll try again once I have the time/motivation!

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Beidou

While you had your moments, your general attitude matched your vision to a tee. All in all, it was rare to see you wearing anything but a pokerface on your face, no matter if at a celebratory meal with the rest of the crew or while fighting monsters and storms on the sea, you remained unfazed, always looking disinterested and yet never refusing to participate in anything Beidou suggested.

Even if some outside observers might have found it difficult to imagine any reasons for two personalities as clashing as yours and your captain’s to get along as well as you did, Beidou herself could think of at least a dozen. From a professional standpoint having a number two as collected as you helped to balance out her… more enthusiastic personality. But there were also more than enough reasons for the two of you to get along well in private. Including but not limited to:

No matter how uninterested you looked, you were still a great listener, letting Beidou talk your ear off whether she was sober or not while somehow managing to remember more from your one-sided conversations than she did herself. You were good at making sure she didn’t overdo it during her more reckless moments and most importantly: the way you managed to tell any story from your adventures in a completely deadpan and unimpressed manner proved some of the most unexpected comedic entertainment either she or the rest of the crew could ask for.

“Come onnnnn, pleaseeeee", your drunk Crewmate begged you, slurring while holding on to your arm as if his life depended on it, only for you to briefly close your eyes in slight annoyance, grabbing your vision with your free hand before pressing it against his until the cold became too much for him to bear and he was forced to pull away.

“You were there as well. Tell them the story yourself”, you refuted, only to almost immediately make out the sound of several other of your drunk companions to start whining to you.

“I’m too drunk”, he retorted, and while he was obviously telling the truth, his argument was still far from convincing you in the slightest.

Just as you were about to tell him he should have told the story before drinking then however, a sudden weight on your shoulder caused your attention to shift towards it, only to be greeted with the sight of Beidou standing next to you, one hand on your shoulder and the other on her hip, the blush on her cheeks making it obvious she herself wasn’t sober in the slightest. And yet she was still a thousand times better off than any of the others.

“That and you’re just the best at telling stories”, she added with a smile. 

If it was anyone else, you would have brushed off the compliment as flattery and nothing else before quickly turning them down, and yet whenever it was Beidou that asked you, you found yourself considering it.

You had never really understood why they always wanted you to be the one to relay their adventures. When you had asked her however, she told you that while everyone else tried to embellish their stories and make it sound even more impressive than it already was, the way you did the exact opposite and made even the most epic fight sound like it was just another tuesday was more entertaining than anything the others had to offer. And while you still found it difficult to understand just why exactly that was the case, you had the sneaking suspicion you wouldn’t be able to get a more satisfying answer no matter who you asked.

“Alright”, came your brief answer, only for everyone to huddle up in earshot almost immediately, and yet all your mind paid attention to was the small cheer coming out of Beidou’s mouth as she removed her hand from your shoulder, placed it on your head, and ruffled your hair for a moment before sitting down next to you.

Thankfully everyone was too drunk to remember the small smile that broke across your face.

[cryptidclaw]

Whisperingclan Year 1!

Introducing Whisperingclan! my very haunted clangen clan with a terrible leader!!

I drew these guys MONTHS ago so this art is kinda old now T-T I finally am posting them tho...

I kinda want to draw more yearly updates but I may not draw every cat... it depends on how im feeling and how much time I have :P

...

Whisperingclan lives in the mountains next to the territory of their origin clan Roaringclan. Many of the clan founders were a part of a coup in Roearingclan to make Tempeststar, at the time Tempestwhorl, deputy or leader... they were instead defeated and banished.

The founders wandered together through the territories outside of the clans... as they drew nearer to the mountains they began to hear strange whispers on the wind. Following these whispers they found themselves deep in the mountains in a cave filled with crystals that seemed to whisper with a chorus of their Starclan ancestors.

That night they slept in the cave, and in her dreams Tempeststar was named a leader of a new clan, Whisperingclan, by Starclan themselves. The new clan now calls themself the clan closest to Starclan, and they have made their camp within the Whispering Cave claiming that they are its protectors and the only cats who can be trusted with it's power.

...

I am now continuing this clan's story with updates for each moon!

First Update HERE!

...

Below is each cat from the lineup + a description of their character and what they have done in the clan's first year!

Tempeststar!

Tempest is a very cold and cruel cat who acts purely for her own gain and power, she HATES when others undermine her or disagree with her. She uses the fact that Starclan spirits guided her clan to the Whispering cave as proof that her new clan, and her as it's leader, is the most close to Starclan and must not be questioned no matter what. She doesn't truthfully care much about Starclan, beyond what they can do for her, but she likes to but on a devout follower act to get what she wants and come across as holier than thou.

So far Tempeststar's leadership has been filled with her "teaching" cats who stand up to her lessons by attacking them and forcing others to help her. These common demonstrations have lead to her almost always having injuries and the death of two clanmates. Ravenblur was the first to die, he had followed Tempest's orders in attacking his previous apprentice but succumbed to the injuries he sustained. Jaggedlark, the cat Raven had attacked, died next, her determination to call out Tempest needed to be stopped.

Tempest likes to find cats who she can manipulate and use to do her bidding, her original cat she used for this was Ravenblur, who was happy how maim and kill for Tempest. Now it is the ex-kittypet Creekslip (who was the one to kill Jagged) who is less enthusiastic about her unspoken job as attacker and executioner

Tempeststar also became mates with her deputy Blizzardchase and is now expecting their first litter! They are both very evil so their children will be very messed up im sure <3

Blizzardchase!

Blizzard is a cocky cat, she is well aware of how strong and skilled she is and she is not afraid to make that known. She deeply respects Tempest and was one of the first cats to join her coup. Along with respecting Tempeststar, Blizzard also has big gay feelings for her and was NOT afraid to share this, she decided that evil woman would be her mate and she wooed her (probably with evilness) until she got Tempest to fall for her lol.

Blizzard hasn't been up to much this year other than normal deputy duties and being in love with her evil wife... she trained Mossleaf but managed to impart none of her attitude and outlook on life to the young cat. Blizzard is currently doting on her mate and is very exited to see her kits next moon.

Bramblespeck!

Bramblespeck was not always a healer, she was a warrior in Roaringclan, but she joined Tempest's rebellion as she had always looked up to her... She was banished alongside everyone else and was the first cat to begin to hear the whispering, she was the one to lead the way to the cave and through this she realized she had been chosen to be the clan's healer.

Bramble has found her new job difficult as she only had warrior training, but luckily Frostfleck had plenty of healing knowledge that he could share with her. Frost has really been her saving grace this year as he always takes over for her when she gets injured, which seems to be quite often, she's so accident prone. Bramble is also super relieved that Whiskers joined the clan since they really needed another healer...

Whiskers!

Whiskers is a cooky lady with a fascination for the stars and herbs. She began to hear the cave's whispers while wandering alone and followed them straight to a Whisperingclan patrol... after hearing of clan life she decided that being a healer would be the perfect role for her in life and asked to join the clan. The clan is wary towards letting in too many non-clan cats but they need more members and healers so they reluctantly agreed.

Whiskers can often be found staring wide eyed straight into the cave's crystals, studying the movements of the stars, or telling cats off for not properly respecting their ancestors.

Creekslip!

The resident blorbo, absolute soggy sad beast... she is going to cat hell unless she stops this shit lmaooo

Creekslip has extreme abandonment issues and a fear of not being excepted, and left behind. Her twolegs abandoned her in the woods and left her to learn how to survive on her own, she's strong now, but she is desperate for a home. Creekslip joined Whisperingclan on their third moon, she felt a pull to this place after wandering the woods close to the mountains, she now questions every choice that brought her here, but she cant leave... she cant handle being alone again.

A moon into being in the clan Creekslip was given an apprentice, Sunpaw, as a chance to prove herself, but she became ill soon after, and Tempeststar took on much of Sunpaw's training. Creek could feel Tempest's judgement towards her... she failed at the first task she was given, and she was determined to prove herself to the clan and the leader. Tempest could sence this desparation and she saw the potential in it...

When Jaggedlark once again stood up to Tempeststar and Tempest called on Creek to aid her in teaching the young cat a lesson... Creek was desperate for a chance to prove herself and went through with it, she had too... Jagged died later due to the injuries Creek delt her... this haunts her. Despite this however Creek continues to be Tempest's new cat to call on to beat fear and submission into the clan. Creek is to fearful to stop, but she hates what she has now done, and continues to do.

Anyways I love her she keeps committing crimes but she is so sad :(

Frostfleck!

He has Whitestorm vibes, but like if Whitestorm was a part time healer.

Frostfleck was a loner and joined Tempest's group before they found the cave and became a clan. He isn't into all the bad vibes of the clan but he likes the idea of being in a clan and having community, plus there are plenty of good folks in the clan and he choses to stick close to them. Frost has lots of knowledge in healing though he enjoys warrior duties more, he is an unofficial part time healer, and he takes over whenever they need more help in the healer den! (in game I make him a healer when i need more healers , these cats hurt themselves so often T-T)

Skipspot!

My kind transboy, i love himb , I feel like he just joined the clan to make friends and have community.

he has barely done anything because he just joined the clan, but he has already befriended Sunmane and gave her advice on telling Mossleaf how she feels... ig I can thank this man for finally getting Sun to confess to Moss lol.

Butterflyfreckle!

Butterfly is like the opposite of Creekslip, she was a kittypet but she chose to leave her home for adventure! She is confident in herself and is great at making friends, she keeps away from the bad parts of the clan and just enjoys herself. She has done pretty much nothing this year though hehe.

Weedpatch!

Weedpatch was Tempeststar's apprentice and she convinced him to join her coup through this, he did so mostly out of fear and also because his cousin Jaggedpaw and her mentor had agreed to join as well... Weed always looked up to Jagged.

Both Weed and Jagged regretted their choices to follow Tempest, but it was too late, and they were facing the conciquences of decisions they made as dumb kids. Jagged became angry after the banishment, but Weed just became... quiet. He doesn't like to get involved in any of the clan conflicts, he stays by himself as much as he can with Tempest having been his mentor. He used to spend most of his time with Jaggedlark, she was his best friend, but then she was killed, he doesn't like to talk about Jagged anymore. These days, Weedpatch, living up to his name, copes with his trauma by being high on catmint half the time.

Mossleaf!

Mossleaf was a kit in Roearingclan, the banished cats literally just stole her, she is actually the Roaringclan leader's daughter, hence the stealing, they wanted some vengeance. Roaringclan think Moss is dead but nope! She's just in the spooky cave cult!

Mossleaf is very aloof and strange, she likes to listen to the Whispers, and while most cant decipher them it seems like Moss might actually be able to hold a conversation with them. Bramblefleck thought Moss should become a healer but Tempest promised to give Blizzardchase the next apprentice available, despite this Moss doesn't seem to mind being a warrior though.

Moss became very close to the other apprentice at the time, Sunpaw and they became so close it seemed one could never be found without the other. They seemed to have crushes on each other from the start and it was no surprise when Sunmane confessed to Moss and they became mates soon after they both became warriors. I love them both sm they r cuties <3 (the not evil gays)

Sunmane!

Sunmane is my favorite design... I love her lion mane and her bangs sm she is so CUTE

Sunmane joined the clan as a kit and before they found the cave. Her grandfather Flowermoon was trying to find a group to support them both, Sun's parents were gone and Flower was getting old... the strange group of cats was the best choice they had at the time.

Sunmane likes to stay positive and tries to lighten the mood with some jokes. Her apprenticeship was tough, and now that she is free from Tempeststar she is staying far away from her. She spends almost all her time chilling with her mate Mossleaf and trying to enjoy her life despite all the things that go down in the clan.

Larkcaw!

Larkcaw is the starclan guide and was the main spirit to guide the cats to the Whispering Cave... she is evil actually, how did she get into Starclan??? I'm pretty sure the only reason she is in the good place is bec she didn't obviously do anything evil... she just plotted.

Lark decided to lead her great granddaughter Tempeststar to the Whispering Cave, she convinced other spirits that a clan living there would be a GREAT idea, despite the fact that it is actually very bad for cats to live in a cave full of that much Starclan energy. It can easily mess with a cat's mind, especially those with a stronger Starclan connection.

Larkcaw really just wanted control over a clan, and what better than making a new clan backed by a powerful Starclan source?

Flowermoon!

Flowermoon is Sunmane's grandfather and became her caretaker after her parents died, he joined the group because he knew he needed cats who could care for Sun and him as well since he was getting old, he is unsure of his decision, Tempeststar is cruel, but he knows Sunmane has found friends and joy in the clan despite it all. Before his death Flowermoon spent much of his time telling stories to the kits and apprentices, he passed away of old age, and now watches over his granddaughter <3

Jaggedlark!

Jaggedlark was Ravenblur's apprentice back in Roaringclan and due to this she had spent much of her apprenticeship around Tempest and her followers. She was convinced that the coup was a good idea and even played a role in convincing her cousin Weedpaw of the same thing. After the coup and subsequent banishment however, Jaggedpaw began to see the truth in what kind of a person Tempest was... she grew to despise the leader. Jagged became a warrior on the clan's first official moon, but Jaggedlark became even more confident in speaking out against Tempeststar's actions after this and this would sadly lead to her demise.

On the same moon that she became a warrior, she angered Tempest by questioning one of her decisions, Tempest called on Jaggedlark's own previous mentor, Ravenblur, to attack Jagged alongside Tempest to teach Jagged a lesson. Jagged would end up wounded from the fight, but not nearly as much as Ravenblur who died of his injuries a moon after... Jagged was devastated, her mentor had attacked and betrayed her trust, but she had killed him, didn't that make her just as bad?

A few moons later Jagged would end up being made an example of again when she began speaking out against Tempest even more than before, even questioning her place as leader... Jagged would die like her mentor, dying a moon later from blood loss.

Ravenblur!

Ravenblur died almost immediately, but i hate him, I sent him the the dark forest >:)

Raven was one of Tempeststar's biggest followers (a Darkstripe to Tigerstar sort), he did anything Tempest asked of him, even attacking his own previous apprentice Jaggedlark. He is VERY mad that Jagged ended up killing him, he feels he deserved more from life... he wanted more power like Tempest and Blizzard, and Jagged took that away from him...

[feelbokkie]

L♡VE IN F♡CUS | Chapter 4

PAIRING: idol!Changbin x fem reader

WARNINGS: mention of food/eating, one swear word, some angst

GENRE: smau, crack, angst, fluff

P♡V: 1st/2nd person (depending on how you view it)

SUMMARY: Amateur concert photographer Y/n has recently been promoted to junior music journalist. Her first assignment? An exposé on the popular Kpop boy group, Stray Kids. Spending an entire tour doing in depth interviews with eight men seems simple enough, but one member isn't exactly open to the idea. Will Y/n be able to break down the walls around his heart, or will her big break turn into a big disaster?

TAGLIST: closed

W♡RD C♡UNT: 4,981

SCREENSH♡T C♡UNT: 15

A/N: sorry for disappearing without a word

PREVIOUS | MASTERLIST | NEXT

©feelbokkie (2024) — all rights reserved. reposting/modification of any kind is not tolerated.

“So, how does all this work?” You ask from the couch behind the set of chairs Chan and Changbin are currently sitting in, a third one is empty between the two of them.

“Like producing or all of the buttons?” Chan asks, spinning around in the chair to give you all of his attention.

“You can explain the buttons if you want,” You adjust yourself comfortably on the couch, making sure to find a way to sit so you can take notes without hurting your back later. “But I meant producing.”

The three of you are currently sitting in a recording studio that the company rented for the group to use on their last day in Sydney. One of the inclusions that everyone agreed on is a mini CD-R of each member's solo song from the tour, and one rerecorded song for the group version broken up into a special racha version. The boys wanted to get the recording as quickly as they could before they got too tired from touring, which is why you're up at the earliest time you've needed to be so far.

Chan starts to roll up the sleeve of his black hoodie, thinking for a moment. "Well, when Han gets here--"

"If Han gets here. I guarantee you that he's still asleep right now." Changbin whines, his voice still heavy from sleep.

"I'll send a text to the group chat in a second to have one of the other kids swing by his room before they come over." Chan rubs his eyes as he pulls his phone out of his pocket and sets it on the table behind him. "We can do the first two songs without him right now I guess."

"They're just the solo songs so we can manage." Changbin yawns. You can't tell if he's telling you or reassuring Chan.

"Yeah, you're right. Anyway," He pulls off his cham and fixes his hair before placing it back on. "Someone will be in the recording booth with headphones that play the backing track while everyone else can hear from the speakers in here. Basically, everyone out here is listening to make sure that the recording goes well. That whoever is in the booth is keeping pitch, or pronouncing everything correctly, and so forth. Or if something doesn't sound right, we can fix it right then and there. It's not always in one go though so sometimes we have to take the best bits of each take and splice them together."

"And then you take the mostly recorded track and do whatever tweaking needs to be done in post?" You question as you write down what Chan explained.

"Exactly! Someone's been doing their homework." Chan claps once loudly in excitement, the sudden noise causes Changbin to jump in his seat.

"I've always been a good student." You smirk to yourself as you look through your questions to ask. "I've watched some of your recording sessions on YouTube. You--"

The door swings open, stealing all of your attention. On the other side, Jisung stands holding four coffees in a carrier in one hand and another, larger iced coffee in the other. He's mostly hidden away in a large beanie that falls just above his eyes, a matching black face mask, an oversized hoodie, and baggy grey cargo pants.

"I know I'm late, but I bought an apology gift." He says, holding up the drink carrier.

"More like a bribe." Chan laughs, turning the seat next to around so that Jisung can sit in it.

"Here you go, noona." Jisung hands you one of the iced coffees before taking his seat between Chan and Changbin.

"I can be bought." You joke as you take the drink.

You watch as Jisung settles into his seat, handing both Chan and Changbin their drinks before placing the remaining fifth cup on the table behind them. Chan takes a sip of the coffee and turns back to you. "Noona, you were asking us a question."

"I'll ask it later. You guys have a lot of work ahead of you. I'll be like a fly on the wall from this moment forward."

All three of them nod in agreement. Recoding nine songs in one day isn't impossible but it is a lot of work. The three of them turn around again and discuss something briefly that you can't hear. Unsure of what else to do, you recheck your notes as they talk, trying your best to give them privacy in the too-small room.

"Ah, I'm suddenly nervous to record this song!" Chan laughs nervously while throwing his head back.

"We've all seen you perform it seven times already." Jisung pats him on the back to reassure him.

"Yeah but..." His voice trails off as he slowly makes eye contact with you as he spins around.

"You're nervous because of me?" You point to yourself for confirmation.

"Well, the song is a bit..." His voice trails off again, scratching the back of his increasingly red neck.

"Oh, so you can take your shirt off in front of Stay but you can't sing the song in front of noona?" Changbin teases.

"At this point, noona is like my sister. So it's..."

"I'm pretty sure your actual sister was in the audience this weekend. Your entire family really." You remind him.

"Oh my God," He sighs, burying his head in his hands.

"Ah, Bang Chan! Just hurry up and go in the booth already!" Changbin yells, getting annoyed and dropping all formalities with his leader.

"Okay, okay!" He gets up and takes one more sip of his coffee. "It's a song about trains anyway so I don't know what I'm getting worked up about."

"Hyung, be so fucking for real right now. We're all adults here. Just--"

Smack!

"Ow! What was that for." Jisung rubs the spot on his thigh that Changbin just smacked.

Changbin doesn't say anything. Instead, he nods in your direction, warning the younger man that you're still listening. You roll your eyes and raise your hand up. "It's off the record, don't worry."

After some punches to the air, Chan finally makes his way into the recording booth. He places the large headphones over his ears and pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket. He unfolds the paper and then places it on the music stand in front of him. He signals for you to turn around and cover your ears with a sheepish smile. You respond by shaking your head 'no' and snapping a quick picture of him with your camera.

Jisung gets up from his seat and takes the seat that Chan was sitting in earlier. He pats his previous seat with his hand while looking through the papers in front of him. "Noona, sit here. Come be an honorary member of 3racha."

"I promise you that your careers are safer if I sit back here." You chuckle slightly.

"Then come up here and keep us company. It feels weird sitting here with just two of us. Feels like if Cerberus was missing a head."

"That's a bit dramatic, no?" You question as you gather your things.

"It's 3racha. You need all three of us. Cerberus is just a two-headed dog without the third head. Or worse, a regular dog. 2racha isn't a real thing." Jisung says with a faraway look in his eyes. You can almost see a glint of fondness as he thinks back about something.

"Can I quote you on that?" You ask as you set your things on the table.

"Technically Vocalracha is 2racha," Changbin interjects. Without looking up from the papers he's now flipping through, he pulls out Jisung's chair for you to sit on. Without hesitation, you quietly thank him while taking the seat.

"That's not the same thing and you know it hyung." Jisung whines, stomping his feet on the floor, gently shaking the table.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

All three of your heads snap up at Chan who is now mouthing something at you.

"Oh, his mic is off," Changbin says while he looks at the set of buttons spread out across the table.

"Hold on, this system is different from the one we're used to. Everything is in English too."

"They showed us how to use the equipment earlier but I forgot which one is the mic on and off button," Changbin explains.

Your eyes scan the table and find the button labeled 'microphone on/off'. Afraid of accidentally hitting something and messing with the entire system, you quietly point to it. Changbin follows your finger and presses the button without any hesitation. You hold your breath for a moment, scared that you might have found the wrong button. All three of you stare at Chan while Jisung signals for him to talk.

"Is my mic on now?" Chan asks softly.

All three of you let out a sigh of relief before Jisung presses the intercom button in front of him and leans into the mic. "Yeah, hyung. We can hear you now, loud and clear."

"Okay, good. Are we good to start now? I want to get my song over with before the other kids get here." Chan teeters back and forth on his feet and swings his arms back and forth like a child waiting for their parent to get done talking to their friend. It's an insane image of a man who is about to sing a song that is definitely not about railways.

Jisung turns to look at Changbin who is looking at a little piece of paper in front of him. You can see small diagrams of buttons and little notes on them in Korean that you're almost certain he wrote himself. He gives Jisung a thumbs-up as his finger hovers over one of the buttons.

"Yeah, we're going to start now, hyung," Jisung tells him before sliding the intercom away from him.

Chan resumes his position in front of the microphone. He flashes all three of you an innocent smile before signaling that he's ready to start. Both you and Jisung watch Changbin as he presses one of the buttons. Soon after, the opening notes of "Railway" play over the speaker in the room. Chan makes a motion pointing up which causes Changbin to scramble as he looks for another button while referring to his little cheat sheet. Changbin presses the button and Chan gives him another thumbs-up before singing the opening lines of the song.

You sit quietly between the two younger members of 3racha as they work, careful to not distract them. You've been with them for two months, but this is the most serious you've seen them. Most of the time, they're goofing off and picking on each other or the other members. Changbin quietly nods along to the music while reading the lyrics sitting in front of him. Every few seconds he writes a little note on the page. Jisung is also reading along with the lyrics. After Chan finishes the first verse, he waits patiently while drinking water as Jisung and Changbin quietly discuss among themselves what parts they should have him fix. After a few minutes, they go over what went well and what he can do to improve. Chan nods along before the three of them rerecord the first verse. After the second recording, they replay both versions of the recording for Chan to hear. This time Chan seems a bit dissatisfied and asks if he can try one more time. Once more, the opening notes play and Chan redoes the first verse. During the review of the third take, all three of them are satisfied and go to the next verse.

This process continues for each verse, chorus, and adlib until all three of them, but most importantly Chan, are happy with the final product. Afterwards, Chan switches places with Jisung and it starts all over again. Jisung's recording goes a bit faster than Chan's due to fewer notes from the other two producers in the room. While Jisung records, both Chan and Changbin are quietly explaining everything to you so you have a bit more context of what's going on. After Jisung is done, he takes Chan's seat again while Chan moves over to Changbin's seat so they can record the next song. Changbin's recording took the longest of the three because of how much he was joking around. After that, they managed to get started on the 3racha hip-hop version of "Runners," all while spending more time messing around than focusing. Still, the three of them are done in nearly two hours.

For a moment, you're left alone in the recording studio while the three men take their break outside of the room. You sit quietly on the couch, your new permanent spot now that all three producers are done recording, and add to your notes about the experience. You don't notice at first that Changbin is the first one back in the room. He's quiet for a moment as he reclaims his spot at the end of the table.

"It's not as fun and glamorous as our recording session videos, huh?" Changbin asks quietly, finally breaking his silence.

You slowly lift your head up and blink at him, confused for a moment. You don't think there's been a moment where he's spoken to you first before. At least, not unprompted. Not without another member being in the room.

Changbin continues to stare at you, waiting for your answer. You shake your head and put your notebook aside, "No, I think it's very interesting. I'm learning a lot about making music and you three in general. I really love music so seeing how it's made is really fun."

Changbin slowly nods his head as he spins back around. You roll your eyes as you pick up your notebook again. A few seconds later, Changbin turns around again. You freeze midsentence, waiting for him to say something.

"Do you want to experience the other side of it?" His expression is soft and genuine. You've only seen this expression on his face when he's with his members, never with you. Then again, you haven't been alone with him yet. Maybe the overprotective, intimidating part of him is an act.

"What?" You set your notebook aside once again, "Like, inside the recording booth?"

"Yeah," While his face is softer towards you than you're used to seeing, he still refuses to smile. "For your article. You're still writing that, right? In addition to everything else?"

"I am still writing the article. And I'd love to step inside the booth." Notebook in hand, you follow as Changbin stands up and leads you to the door you've watched all three of them go through.

You wait patiently as you watch Changbin adjust the height of the mic for you. After a few moments, he quietly leaves the room and takes his spot back in front of the soundboard. He motions for you to put the headphones on.

The recording booth is smaller on the inside than you imagined. Much more stuffy, hotter than the room you were just in. It must have something to do with all the soundproofing that needs to be done. You roll up the sleeves of your sweater while you look around the room, taking in every little detail.

"Noona, can you hear me?" Changbin's voice rings through the headphones.

"Yeah," You turn, giving your full attention to the man on the other end of the glass. You always thought that there was a speaker overhead that was connected to the intercom in the other room.

"Good," He nods as he takes a sip of his now watered-down coffee. "I'm going to play something so you can hear what it's like."

You give him a thumbs up as you watch him search through Chan's laptop. After a moment, finding what he's looking for, he turns to look back up at you. "So you're going to hear a quick-timing beat and then the music is going to start."

You wait while watching Changbin as three ticks of what sounds like a metronome play in your ear right before the instrumental track for "Runners" starts. Your head bobs along to the music as you mentally sing the lyrics of the song you've heard countless times. The music is so loud, you're almost certain your heartbeat changed to match the tempo.

Just as soon as the song starts, it ends right when the first verse should end. You quickly grab your notebook and jot down a few notes before looking back at Changbin again.

"Is it always like this? Like," You pause for a moment, trying to find the right words. "is it always just the backing track? I've heard that some artist hear their own voice too."

"You can hear your own voice if you want it that way but it can get a bit confusing so we don't. Some artists will have their guide playing if they have one or a metronome to keep the tempo. If we're layering or doing adlibs then we'll have what we've already recorded playing instead to make it easier for us and the person mixing the track."

"I see," A million more questions float into your mind as you take note of what Changbin just told you. But you decide to keep them to yourself for now. You still have a few more hours before the day is over.

"Do you want to record for real?" Changbin asks suddenly.

You pause for a moment, contemplating his question. It would be a bucket list item you would be able to scratch off the list. But the idea of performing a--song let alone performing a song in front of the original artist--is intimidating. "I can't sing,"

"We have autotune," He says as the corner of his mouth twitches up into a smirk that he can't hide.

You bite your lower lip as you think about the next time an opportunity like this will happen again. With your career, it probably won't happen again in this lifetime.

"Okay, but no laughing."

"Well, not in front of you."

"I changed my mind." You go to pull the headphones off and go back into the main room.

"I'm kidding, I'll be nice. I promise." He says quickly, his infectious laughter ringing through your ears. "What song do you want to do?"

"'Runners' is fine." You breathe as you readjust the headphones on your head.

Changbin does something on the laptop for a moment, probably turning on the autotune for you, and then makes an 'okay' symbol letting you know he's ready to go.

You say a silent prayer that you don't completely embarrass yourself in front of Changbin or any of the other members who are bound to walk back into the studio at any moment as the metronome chimes in your ears again. As the song starts, your voice is a bit shakier than you hoped. It's one thing to pretend to be an idol recording a song in the shower. It's an entirely different beast standing in a real recording booth while singing in front of an actual idol.

The song goes on longer than it did when Changbin was showing you how it sounded earlier. He's probably letting you go for as long as you can before cutting you off. Unfortunately for him, and his ears, you know the entire song.

Claps erupt in your ears just as the song finishes. You turn to the side to see that Chan and Jisung have returned from their break and that both Seungmin and Jeongin have also arrived. You quickly rip off your headphones, grab your notebook, and leave the booth with your eyes on the floor so that none of the boys can see how red your face is. You're not sure when any of them came in, and for your sake, it might be better that you didn't know.

"Wow, noona, do you want to join us in Vocalracha?" Jeongin jokes as you take your spot back on the couch.

"I think Vocalracha has enough members, thank you very much."

"Just switch places with Seungmin, nobody will notice the difference," Jisung suggests as he takes his seat next to Changbin.

"I'll notice," Seungmin deadpans as he takes the spot next to you on the couch.

"Does that mean I'll be Vocalracha leader then?" Jeongin's eyes light up with a mischievous twinkle.

"I think for noona's sake, you shouldn't be the leader. You'll run it like the military." Chan laughs, ruffling Jeongin's hair. In return, Jeongin pushes him hard enough to cause him to stumble.

Jeonging climbs over both your and Seungmin’s legs to get to the empty seat near the couch in the corner. "And Seungmin hyung doesn't?"

"I'm nice to you, why are you lying? Spend a day in danceracha with Lee Know hyung and you'll be crawling back to me, begging for forgiveness." Seungmin pouts.

Jeongin him off while pulling his phone out of his pocket. "I bow for no one,"

"You bow for Stay." Chan reminded the youngest man.

"That's different. I respect Stay." He replies without missing a beat.

"You don't respect me?" Seungmin asks, his mouth drops open, feigning shock.

Jeongin turns to Seungmin and points at himself. "Maknae on top,"

"Guys," Changbin warns. Both Seungmin and Jeongin turn to the older man, confused by the sudden warning. Changbin only replies by nodding in your direction.

And just like that, he's back to putting a wall between you and the entire group.

"Noona knows that we're only joking," Seungmin says softly, turning back to you with soft eyes. Almost like he's apologizing on Changbin's behalf. "Don't you, Y/n noona?"

"I vaguely remember one or more of you saying something about how Jeongin would be scary if he was one of the hyungs so..." You tease as you pretend to flip through your notebook. You slightly glance up and make eye contact with a worried Changbin. "I'm only joking, I know Jeongin has a soft spot for each of you and to take what you guys say with a grain of salt. Like when Seungmin says he hates you, he doesn't really--"

Seungmin throws his hand in front of your mouth, not close enough to touch you, but enough to get you to stop talking. "Hey, hey, hey, no need to expose me like that, noona."

"Okay, okay, well leave the two maknaes alone." Chan laughs, as he takes his seat next to Jisung. "Which one of you wants to go first? Or did you want to start by doing Vocalracha's 'Runners,' drama version?"

"I'll go first. Someone spent the whole car ride worried about doing his sexy concept in front of noona." Seungmin sighs as he gets up and walks straight into the booth.

"Hey," Jeongin cries, looking up from his phone.

"I'd like to remind everyone that I've already seen all of your stages. Multiple times. I've already seen the belly buttons and abs and heard all of the lyrics enough times in the past two months for you to not be worried." You reassure him.

"Couldn't be me," Chan clears his throat as he turns back around. You can see how quickly his neck and ears are getting red just before he pulls his hood over his head.

"You are the biggest offender, don't lie." Jisung laughs while hitting Chan on the shoulder.

"Seungmin, are you ready?" Chan changes the subject as Seungmin pulls his headphones on. Seungmin responds by making a silly face and doing a thumbs-up.

***

The rest of the day pretty much goes how it did earlier. Seungmin got done with his recording almost as quickly, if not faster than Jisung did earlier. Jeongin took a bit longer because he nitpicked each of his takes to make sure they were perfect. By the time they were done with their solos and recording "Runners," drama version it was time for lunch and the remaining three members of the group came with food for everyone. After lunch, Danceracha got started with their version of "Runners" before doing their solo recordings.

You tried to focus as well as you could but with the room full, there was always something happening on the side that always caught your attention. The other members only got scolded by Chan, Changbin, and Jisung, who were in full producer mode, a handful of times for their volume or overall playful antics. And while the day didn't feel like it lasted that long, when you checked your phone, it was basically dinner time.

"Alright, Lee Know-ssi, you're all done." Chan yawns into the microphone. You are almost certain he didn't get much sleep last night after the two of you spent the entire day exploring Sydney for his solo zine.

"Thank god!" The second oldest yells as he quickly pulls off his headphones and joins all eight of you in the main room.

With nowhere left to sit, Minho sits on Changbin's feet. Nobody else is phased by it, and after spending time with the group, it doesn't puzzle you as much as it once did.

"Hyung, get off," Changbin whines.

Minho tilts his head back and looks at Changbin innocently. "Why?"

"Never mind," Changbin mumbles as he gently pushes Minho's head back forward.

You do your best to hide the smirk threatening you appear on your face as you pack up your equipment. You didn't use much today, just your camera and your notebook. But still, you make sure to disconnect the lens from the camera and over both of them with the appropriate caps and then slide them into your bag. You close your notebook with a satisfying tap and put the pen into the wire spiral before putting it into your bag. Satisfied that you packed everything, you stand up and sling your bag over your shoulder.

"If none of you have any plans, we can all head out to dinner for our last night in Australia?" You ask softly.

You want to treat the boys after a long day of work that you know they wouldn't have had if it wasn't for you. It's the least you can do. That is if you can find a way to pay without them knowing or trying to beat you to it.

"A little bit later? There's something the kids and I have to talk about first. If you don't mind waiting, it'll take about an hour. You can go ahead and wait at the hotel if you want." Chan says while stretching his arms in front of him.

You nod with a smile. "That's fine. We can also go another day too. No rush. Have during your meeting. Or text me if you still want to go."

Trying not to trip, you slightly knock into Felix's leg as you leave. You give them one final wave goodbye just as you leave.

You walk to the entrance of the studio, passing by a few random people entering the building. Deciding to stay cool, you wait in the lobby and dig around your bag, looking for your phone so you can call a car service to bring you back to the hotel.

Panic slowly sets in when you don't feel your phone in your bag. You check your pockets quickly before emptying your bag on the couch in the lobby. Pens, gum, your headphones, camera, notebook, wallet, and a bit of trash fall out. But not your phone. You think for a moment, you could have sworn that you put your phone in your bag. You checked the time, set it on the arm of the couch, and then...

It's still in the studio. You shove everything back in your bag. No longer panicking, you move slowly. You could wait around for the group to be done with their meeting and grab your phone so you don't disrupt them. But waiting for an hour, with nothing more to do feels a bit daunting. You could try to head back to the hotel and see if you could ask one of the staff members to message one of the members to grab your phone but the key to your room is in the back of your phone case. And with the security precautions in place for the group, you're almost certain you're not going to be able to get a spare key from the front desk.

"Here," Someone mutters furiously under their breath.

You turn around quickly, only to be met face to face with Changbin, his other hand clenched tightly in a fist. Even with his jaw clenched, you can see spasms of irritation across his face.

"T-thank you," You stutter as you take your phone from him.

Without saying a word, he turns back around and starts walking back to the studio. Halfway he stops, turns back around, and walks back towards you quickly.

"If you're going to bug us, you should learn to hide your phone better." He growls in a low voice.

"Excuse me?" You scoff in disbelief at the accusation.

You thought that you had Changbin figured out. That he's lovely in general but he's protective of the group. But now, as he stares at you with his nostrils flared and pure anger in his eyes, you fear that everything about him is an act.

Before you can explain yourself or even try to diffuse the tension between the two of you, Changbin disappears back into the hallway again.

You tightly grip your phone as you hold back your screams of frustration. You take a few deep breaths to calm yourself down, ignoring the needle pricks of anger stabbing the back of your eyes. Once you've calmed down enough, you pull up the car service app on your phone and order a ride back to the hotel.

—

Buy me a coffee?

—

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[peachhcs]

good thing it was a rainy day

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

summary: part to 2 to rainy day at the lake house where some pent up sexual tension escalates between samy and will after being forced to stay away from one another due to everyone's obnoxious teasing

2k words

warnings: 18+, SMUT, this is literally like all smut, sub!will, sub!reader, switch, oral (m receiving), p in v (protected!!), riding, making out, hair pulling, slight praising, hickeys, consensual!, getting caught at the end

soooo here’s part 2!!! this is very explicit so read at your own risk! (warning u now before u hit read more lmao) publishing things like this genuinely scares me bc i know people can write so much better smut and i've never published smut before 🫣 but hope y’all like it?? idk i’m not the best at writing sex but like yeah! (p.s. pic 1 and pic 3 are from tumblr) (p.s.s. working on my requests rn too!!)

au masterlist | part 1

will's hands glided across samy's back as they deepened their kiss. the boy desperately tried ignoring what was going on down in his pants because if he focused too hard on it, he'd for sure cum before anything really happened. the brunette wasn't making it easy either. she bit and tugged on will's bottom lip like her life depended on it and the little tugs at the root of his curls had him losing it fast. samy's little comment from a few minutes ago had will trying to keep his sounds in—one, because he didn't want to get caught and two, he was trying to prove he wasn't the loud one.

although every time samy grinded her core against his own or kissed particularly hard, will struggled strangling his little whimpers and groans. she definitely wasn't making his easy for him.

the girl's hand started wandering lower again. she moved slowly and calculated like she was intentionally teasing the boy beneath her. will was desperate for her touch and her slow pace was killing him.

"s-samy, please," will's blue eyes met her own where a smirk replaced the gentle smile.

"desperate, huh?" she mused, finally reaching will's waistband again.

"mhm, god—" he couldn't stop the whimper this time. she was so close, yet so far still.

samy grinned. she reveled in those sounds her boyfriend made. he was so tough on the outside, so knowing this was how he got for her was a treat. she finally decided to have some mercy and allowed her hand to make contact with will's bulge. he immediately jerked his hips into her touch, biting his lip so hard he started tasting blood.

"this okay?" samy wondered, always double checking.

"yes, yeah. it's perfect," will breathily got out. she smiled, pushing his curls away from his somewhat sweaty forehead.

for it being so rainy and cool outside, the temperature inside of samy's room was hot.

she palmed will through his shorts for a few more moments before slowly pushing them down. his cock came free in one go, making will hiss at the sudden air against it. samy's eyes widened even though she's seen him multiple times before. each time was always as good as the first—always so red and throbbing for a release.

"so, so pretty, will," samy praised as she carefully took him in her hand. she used his pre as lube, slowly running her hand up and down his length in soft strokes.

"mm, yeah. feels so good," will muttered, head falling back onto the pillow in relief.

the brunette leaned down to leave gentle kisses to will's tip. the small feeling of her mouth on him had will's hips stuttering, trying to keep them under control.

"shit, hughes."

samy pumped him for a bit longer before deciding she was ready to attach her lips to him. his pre was enough lube and by the way he twitched in her hand, she knew he was already close. her pretty lips took him in one go resulting in the most guttural moan from her boyfriend. will's hands gripped onto the sheets, struggling to keep his hips still.

"fuck," he cursed a little too loudly. her lips were like heaven and the feeling was something will tried engraving into his mind forever.

"so good for me, will," samy hummed, meeting his gaze. the boy nearly lost it seeing her like that with his dick in her mouth. he took a mental snapshot, wanting that memory until he died—messy hair, glossed over eyes, hickeys on every inch of her skin—he was so, so fucked.

she picked up her pace, bobbing her head a little faster than before. her hands splayed across will's hips as purchase and leverage to help with the speed.

"i'm close already," will moaned, feeling that coil in his stomach about to snap.

"cum for me, will. it's okay," samy urged and her words were enough to send him over the edge and see stars.

his hips bucked up on their own as he released right into samy's mouth. "oh fuck. shit," he got out.

his chest heaved in deep pants in attempt to get his breathing back under control while samy just grinned. "d-did you swallow all of it?" the boy wondered, dragging his hand back up her thigh.

the brunette stuck her tongue out to show that there was nothing left. will groaned and that sight was enough to keep his dick hard. his other hand tugged samy back down to his mouth, kissing her particularly hard being no where near finished with her yet.

"god, you're so pretty," the boy muttered against her lips earning a small blush across samy's cheeks.

his hands tugged at her waistband as an indication that he wanted her shorts off. samy kicked them down her legs being left in her swimsuit bottoms that left little to the imagination. will's hand wandered across the exposed skin and took handfuls of her ass. he moaned at the feeling of her flesh in his hands while samy kissed him deeper.

the hockey player flipped them over so he now had the upper hand. a smirk lined his lips while he let his hand wander further down to her own waistband again. samy read the look in his eye, a smile crossing her lips as she tugged her boyfriend down for more kisses.

will took that opportunity to push her swimsuit aside and slowly slide one of his fingers into her warm walls. his action had a loud moan escaping samy's lips which brought a grin to his lips.

"fuck, will," samy's eyes closed, nails digging into his arms.

"this okay?" the boy breathed against her neck.

"mhm, more than okay," the brunette's own whimpers started escaping her lips as will's finger picked up speed before deciding to add a second one. he smirked to himself—who was the loud one now?

will found a good pace while peppering more light hickeys across his girlfriend's chest. they were for sure never going to hear the end of it from anyone after this. the sounds she made had the boy going crazy—all of it going straight to his now throbbing cock. every time samy's mouth opened will twitched, desperately searching for his second orgasm.

"need you so bad, pretty girl," he breathed into her ear earning another delicious moan in response.

"me too. need you inside me, will," samy's voice broke. she really couldn't look more gorgeous to will. her tear stained cheeks and kiss swollen lips made the boy go completely numb.

he slowly pulled his fingers out while samy dug through her nightstand for a condom. will's gaze fixated on her as she tore the wrapper open with her teeth and carefully rolled it on him. his hips jerked at her touch, a low chuckle escaping his lips between the breathy pants.

he grabbed ahold of samy's face, both of them falling back onto the bed again as he devoured her lips once more. in the next second, samy straddled will's hips.

"i'm so in love with you," will mumbled between kisses.

"so, so in love with you. so handsome," the girl replied.

she began lining will up with her entrance. as soon as the tip was in, each of them let out probably the loudest moans ever that would definitely let everyone else in the house know what they were up to. will's grasp on her hips became bruising while sang tugged harshly on his curls.

the further down samy went, the harder it was for will to keep his hips still. he used whatever self-control he had left to stay still as he bottomed out. the two were so desperate for one another they nearly came immediately.

"oh my god— fuck," a broken moan escaped will's lips as his eyes squeezed shut.

"you can move," samy urged. her walls stretched themselves out around the hockey player's thick cock—the feeling making her head spin.

"fuck, i can't. not yet. gonna fucking cum if i move," will panted, desperately trying to think of unsexy things so he wouldn't blow his load in the first five seconds.

after another few seconds, will found it in himself to start moving. he slowly bucked his hips up, hands digging into samy's flesh that would for sure leave marks. the brunette met his thrusts with a roll of her hips. the two began finding a good pace and samy's grinding turned into bouncing.

"yeah, fuck. so good for me will," the girl's head tipped back exposing all of the hickeys under her jaw and down her throat.

will felt his cock throb at the sight knowing he left all of those and they'd be impossible to hide.

"so fucking hot. shit hughes," the blonde moaned out. his hands went back to her ass—her bouncing turning his brain to mush.

it didn't take long for the bouncing to become too much for the hockey player. that feeling in his stomach returned and samy knew will was closed with how his cock twitched inside of her. she used her hands pressed against his chest as leverage to bounce faster and making sure her cleavage was on full display to try and get will to his orgasm.

"close will?" the girl wondered.

"mhm, so close—fuck—gonna make me cum," the boy got out in broken pants, eyes clued to her chest on full display for him.

samy smirked, working herself faster and ignoring the burn in her thighs form all the work she was doing. the sounds will let out was enough to push her to her own orgasm. she moaned out as she clenched around his length, riding out her high.

"cum for me will," she urged. her words and orgasm was enough to push the boy to his second orgasm.

he spilled into the condom with a string of curse words and samy's name leaving his lips while he held her down against him, riding out his own high.

"god, fuck. came so fucking hard," will panted once he regained some of his breath.

samy grinned, pushing his curls away from his sweaty forehead, both of their skins were glowing with moisture as the room filled with sex.

"did so good for me," the girl praised which had will's cheeks flushing.

"i love you so much," he mumbled and samy leaned down to press a sweet kiss to his lips.

suddenly, there was a rough knock on the door that had both of them tensing. the two exchanged a glance, waiting for someone to say something on the other side.

"just so you know, eth and i heard all of that. you guys are disgusting. you're so glad you don't have a room next to mom and dad," luke's voice came through while they could hear ethan's little snickers.

"fuck off," samy called back to her brother while will's cheeks turned a deep crimson. he'd never be able to look luke in the eyes for the rest of the summer.

"i gotta appreciate it though. will's got hella game," ethan spoke now and they could hear luke slap his friend on the arm for that comment.

"next time y'all need to get off take a drive somewhere," luke said before him and ethan walked away.

bonus:

will's eyes were glued to samy as she dragged him through the kitchen. they had smiles on their faces and the same look in their eyes while the girl searched for her car keys in the mess of everyone else's.

the boy's lips were already nipped at her neck as they stumbled their way to the garage. her hickeys from a few weeks ago hadn't even faded yet, but will was determined to add more.

as the two made it through the kitchen, they caught luke's gaze where he sat at the table eating some throw together peanut butter and jelly sandwich, his eyes widened when he saw samy's car keys, the look in their eyes, and will's slight bulge down in his shorts already.

"you fucking whores!" the middle hughes yelled, dropping his sandwich in disgust.

suddenly, he wasn't hungry anymore nor will he be anytime soon.

[noxturnalpascal]

Devotion 🖤 II. Predator or Prey? (Ch 4)

CultLeader!Joel x OFC!Reader

Series Summary: When is it enough? When is it too much? When does Devotion become Obsession?

Visit the Series Masterlist for series warnings, cult info, timeline info, and HCs on ages. Reader has a nickname and some minor physical descriptions - is an OFC from Reader POV.

*This series is 18+ MDNI. I will not be listing individual chapter warnings as I don't want to spoil the plot of each chapter. Please see the series masterlist for entire series warnings to decide if this is for you.*

LAYOUT OF JOEL'S HOUSE

PREVIOUS

II. Predator or Prey?

CH 4 (4.8k) The following Sunday everyone in town is gathered at the old church with the big white steeple for the weekly Valley meeting. After a midday interfaith service, the religious leader gives Joel the floor for his usual speech. As he always does, Joel begins by extolling the virtues of the community, speaking on their recent raiding successes, and then reviews the three tenants. 

We are stronger together. It’s important that everyone finds a place within The Valley that caters to their strengths, so we can depend on each other and serve one another. The predator versus the prey. You have to be one or the other and we choose to not be anyone’s prey. This community is held above any other and we must protect it at all costs. Create a path to the future. Everything we do here paves the way for us as a society to beat the fungus, to find a cure, and to return to the top of the food chain. 

The crowd listens, enraptured, nodding along and smiling as Joel holds them in the palm of his hand. He praises the men and women who patrol the perimeter of the community for their diligence and bravery. He thanks the farmers who live outside the town borders for their perseverance. Then he scans the crowd, looking for you, to silently acknowledge how grateful he is for your presence. But all he sees are the same eyes over and over again, looking at him with devotion and reverence. He usually sees you in the second row with the rest of the house, but you’re not there.

As his speech winds to a close and he heads back to his front-row seat, he realizes that you were in the crowd with the rest of his household. You were there in the second row the whole time, staring at him just like the rest of them do, with blind adoration, with expectation, with mindless loyalty. He’d felt a change on Thursday. After the meeting he’d touched you everywhere, gotten down on his knees for you, and worshiped at your altar. He’d felt something shift and now the wild look in your eyes is gone.

You’re completely devoted. You’re under his spell. You’re one of them.

One of us, he corrects himself. You’re one of us, just like he wanted you to be…. Right?

You watch Joel speaking at the meeting and it's as if his words have new meaning – like he’s speaking directly to you. You’ve never felt small or beautiful or feminine, but he makes you feel whole. He makes you feel strong. He makes you feel like a woman. You feel like you were supposed to be his, always. And it was always supposed to go like this, as if your whole life has led you to this moment. All of your failures have led you here, to him. 

The trepidation you felt when you first got here has completely disappeared and you know that you’ll give everything you have to Joel. You’ll give him all of you, your mind, body and soul, gladly. He can fill in all of the broken or missing pieces of you. Every bad thing that ever happened to you Joel can fix. He can heal the parts of you that weren’t good enough, that weren’t pretty enough, that weren’t smart enough. 

He can save you. 

As soon as the crowd begins to move out of the large room and amble towards the dining hall next door for dinner, he grabs your arm and pulls you roughly into a small supply closet. It smells of lemon and vinegar and is far too small for two people to move about comfortably. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care that there is a crowd of people on the other side of the door or that he shouldn’t be asking you to do what he’s about to ask you to do.

The look in your eyes has gone to his head, he needs to see your supplication right now. He needs to witness your devotion, he needs to give you communion. He pushes you down onto your knees, undoes his pants, and offers himself to you. It’s your first time seeing the size of him and you look willing to comply, your eyes still dazed and glowing, still filled with trust in him. He watches as you take hold of him with one hand and begin to lick and kiss the head, slowly dragging your tongue up and down his shaft. 

Once you put him fully in your mouth he loses all patience, needing more immediately. He pushes your hand away and takes your head in a firm grip on either side, pausing as you look up at him. Your eyes are still glassy. He nods his head and you reciprocate, which he takes as permission to begin drawing himself in and out of your mouth, gently pushing your head forwards and backwards. 

Slowly, he passes back and forth over your lips, allowing you to adjust to him. This only lasts for a few thrusts before he begins to move faster, deeper. He matches the movements of his hips with his grip on the sides of your head, coordinating them to fuck your face in earnest. He hears your gurgles and sees tears beginning to run down your cheeks but you don’t push him away, so he doesn’t stop. He tells himself that you want this. You want this as much as he does.

You kneel beneath him, knees stinging on the hard floor, mouth full and struggling to breathe around him. You’re not sure where this is coming from, but it's obvious that he needs this right now, and what you want above all else is to give him what he needs, to be everything for him. You place your hands on his thighs to brace yourself and try your best to breathe through your nose, to be quiet and still and exactly what he needs you to be, even if this is painful and uncomfortable.

You wish the tears would stop streaming down your face. You’re afraid to even look up at him, worried that he’ll take one look at you and think you’re not enjoying it. What if he thinks you’re having a terrible time, what if he thinks you look awful, what if he thinks he’s hurting you? Maybe those things are kind of true, but still…. What if he stops? What would you do with yourself if he stopped? If he didn’t want you to do this anymore?

You finally look up and meet his eyes. You barely recognize him, his eyes black and his face hard. He doesn’t even meet your gaze, it’s like he’s staring right through you. His pace begins to falter and his hips start to stutter, and you hope it means he’s nearly done. You’re trying so hard to bear this, to not choke, to not cry, to ignore the stiffness in your jaw and the stinging in your knees, but you don’t know how much longer you can do it.

“Are you gonna swallow it?” he huffs out, voice strained. He pulls himself out of your throat until only the tip of him rests on your lips.

“I’ve never–” you swallow back a gag, “I’ve never done that before.”

“But you will, right?” he nods his head as he asks.

He nods, so you nod. And you will. You’ll do anything he asks of you. You don’t have time to wipe your face, which you’re sure must look a mess, before he puts his entire length back inside your mouth, hitting the back of your throat. You can’t stop your body from heaving as he pushes in, and part of you wonders how he’s able to ignore it. He’s usually so in-tune with you.

He lasts less than a dozen more thrusts before his hips stutter to a halt as he starts to release his orgasm down your throat. You feel hot spurts hitting the back of your mouth and you’re awash with shame that it instantly makes you want to gag. He needs this, you tell yourself. You have to be good for him, you have to do a good job for him. You have to be everything he needs you to be.

He pulls himself back so his cock rests on your tongue as he continues to come, coating your mouth, and now you taste him for the first time. The salty bitterness covers your tongue and you’re begging yourself not to retch. He holds your head still, encouraging you to swallow him, even placing one hand over your throat and telling you don’t spit, and swallow it all, which you do with difficulty.

When you’ve swallowed every drop, he seems satisfied and lets go of your head, tucking himself back into his pants. Without warning he turns and walks out of the closet, leaving you to lurch forward since you were resting on him for support. You fall forward onto your hands, catching yourself before your face meets the ground, scraping your palms a bit on the dirty linoleum.

You stay there for a moment like that, on all fours, in a cleaning closet, alone. Down here it smells like musty mop heads and mildew. Down here. On your knees. For Joel. Days ago you were alone with him and he was the one on his knees, worshiping your body, treating you like a goddess. Today he used your mouth like a fuck toy. No, you can’t think like that. That’s not what Joel did, he would never do that. 

You run the last ten minutes through your mind a few times as you slowly get up and brush yourself off. He needed you. He could have anyone here but he chose you, out of everyone. No one ever did that before. No one ever chose you over anyone else. But Joel did. Joel needed you today and you were able to be there for him, and that’s what matters. 

Joel pushes his way through the crowd, not an ounce of shame or regret present. He smiles and shakes hands and gives hugs. Everyone in The Valley looks to him for answers, for guidance, for leadership. He’s the reason every single one of them is here and he’s responsible for them all. They are his flock and he is their shepherd. He gives so much of himself to be here, to do this. He deserves the adoration and the appreciation. He deserves you. He deserves your body, your mouth, your reverence.

He knows you’ve changed since you arrived, you’ve become more trusting, less wild. You’ve morphed into what they all wanted you to be, a devoted member of The Valley. He’s changed also. He used to be different, back when you first met. Back then he could give you pieces of himself, his real self. But the more you’re drawn to him and the more you’ve trusted him, the more he's become unworthy of your trust. He doesn’t even remember doing it intentionally, but it’s done.

He’s slowly lured you into his trap and now, you’re caught.

–

The rest of the week your head is completely filled with thoughts of him. He’s your first thought in the morning and your last thought before you fall asleep. All night your dreams are filled with him, and you cling to the fleeting images of him when you wake. You can’t seem to get enough of him, aching to be near him every moment of the day. You stare at him longingly across the table at every meal and follow him around like a puppy whenever you can, unable to focus on anything else.

Joel himself is so lost in his own delusions of grandeur, he walks around the house with his head held high, cocky and full of himself. He can feel you staring at him all the time and he indulges you once in a while by taking your hand and grazing it across his lips, down his chest, over his burgeoning erection. He’s half-hard all the time now, anticipating. He’s convinced that you’re going to let him fuck you after the next Thursday meeting. He’s going to have you, he’s going to have every piece of you.

The days leading up to it, he thinks about it all day; his dick achingly hard but he refuses to jerk off now, wanting to save it for you. He’s practically vibrating with anticipation when Tess comes up to him Thursday before dinner and gives him the bad news. She tells him you’re sick, started throwing up a couple hours ago, and won’t be able to accompany him to the meeting.

Before he can argue, Tess waves her hand in front of his face, telling him not to worry, that Kerri will be going with him instead. Without a moment for an argument to leave his lips, Tess slips away and Kerri is standing in front of him. She has been living with them for almost a year now, since he found her battered and bruised about a half day’s ride from here. 

Kerri is petite, has chin-length curly hair, a toothy smile, and a faint scar stretching from her left temple down to her jawline. She walks with a barely noticeable limp but always pulls her weight around the house, doing most of the meal prep and impressing everyone with her fine cooking skills. She is nurturing, generous, pretty, and maybe the last person Joel wanted to see tonight. She’s not you. He wanted you.

He’s made so irritable by the last-minute change that he can’t even hide his disappointment. He can barely focus during the meeting, getting easily distracted and having to ask people to repeat themselves. After the meeting, Kerri, sensing his unease, gives him a hug to try and ease some of his tension. He knows she feels his erection, how could she not? It’s been raging for days and he can’t help himself, he pulls her tight and grinds himself into her for a brief moment of satisfaction.

Back at the house he heads into his room but within minutes Kerri is knocking on his door. She asks, is this okay? and he hesitates. She hasn’t come to his room since before he brought you into town, but pushing his dick into her thigh at the meeting tonight for the small relief that friction brought him must have signaled to her that he desired her company. He doesn’t. He only wants your company.

He looks at the closed door to your room and thinks about you inside, sick, probably asleep. What would be the harm in seeking comfort from Kerri? He’s fucked her before, it’s not a big deal. He’s never fucked you, it wouldn’t be like he was cheating. In fact, he thinks you’d probably want this for him. You wouldn’t want him to be suffering, and he’s been painfully hard for days. You’d want him to have relief.

There’s a small voice screaming in the back of his head that he ignores. You’ll never have to know about Kerri. You didn’t know about her before and you won’t know about her tonight, and what you don’t know can’t hurt you.

He opens his door further, silently inviting Kerri inside. She attempts to kiss him but he won’t let his lips meet hers, instead kissing the side of her head, her cheeks, her neck. He tries to breathe through his mouth, unable to get over the scent of her that isn’t at all like yours. He lets her hands grope along his body and he closes his eyes tight, trying to imagine they belong to you instead.

She undoes his belt and pushes his pants down with a practiced hand as she palms his length, working to get his half-hard cock to come to life. Between her curls tickling his chin, her all-wrong scent, and her rough touch, he can’t seem to keep his erection. How is he supposed to fuck away his need for you if he can’t stay hard?

Wordlessly, she sinks down to her knees in front of him. Don’t worry, she says, as she puts him in her mouth, doubling down on her efforts to work his stress right out of his dick. With her not-your scent, not-your hair, and not-your face out of his line of vision, he’s able to let his mind wander and let his thoughts of you return.

He imagines you on your knees in front of him, thinks of you in the closet with your lips wrapped around him. He thinks of your wet mouth, your soft hands, your wild eyes. That does it. He comes immediately and without warning, causing Kerri to cough and sputter around him, spitting his come back onto him. His own release gets splattered onto his thighs, slides down his shaft, and drips from his balls as Kerri wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, rising to her feet. 

“Uhhh, thanks hon,” Joel mutters, as he pets her head and pushes her towards the door.

You know it’s probably close to midnight when you rise in your bed, having spent hours throwing up and then sleeping. Your body is tight with pain, you feel flushed and sweaty, and your head is pounding. You should drink the water Tess left on your nightstand but you worry that it might cause you to throw up again. You were really hoping to see Joel when he got home from the meeting tonight, so when you hear his door open, you heave yourself out of bed and turn your doorknob to greet him.

You see Kerri leaving his room as he stands in the open doorway, pants undone and softening dick still dripping with the evidence of his release. Kerri doesn’t see you as she heads down the hall to her room but Joel’s eyes rise to meet yours for a brief moment before you hastily close the door. You hear the clinking of his belt and then hear his voice directly on the other side of the wood.

“Hey baby, how you doin’?” 

Your head is spinning, you’re sweating profusely now, your pulse throbs behind your eyes. Did you really just see what you think you saw? It was pretty dark in the hallway, maybe your eyes were playing tricks on you. You’re pretty sure you have a fever, maybe you’re hallucinating. Joel lightly knocks on the door and you jump. 

“You alright?” he asks. 

You mutter back a yeah before you stumble towards your bed, wondering if this is all just some bad dream. Joel wouldn’t be fucking around with Kerri, he wouldn’t do that, he isn’t like that. Joel doesn’t use people, right? Joel is yours… right? This must all be a nightmare you’re having. You’re taking short, quick breaths now, fighting to remain conscious. You fall onto the mattress. You’re so fucking sick and as your head hits the pillow you let sleep overtake you.

After a long, fitful night’s sleep, you wake in the late afternoon, feeling slightly less feverish than the day before. You’re immediately hit by a wave of panic, feeling tightness in your stomach and it starts to hurt, causing you to fear you may throw up again. You saw Joel and Kerri last night, and you’re pretty sure she wasn’t helping him with a stuck zipper. You need to talk to Joel, you need to confront him about what you think you saw. You need to hear him tell you it’s not true.

Joel is sitting at his desk, going over the patrols for the upcoming Christmas holiday, when you knock at his door. He’s been waiting for you to come see him since you caught Kerri leaving his room last night. He knew he’d have some questions to answer, he’s just not sure yet how he’s going to answer them. He knows he was well within his rights to have Kerri get him off, he just hopes you don’t come crying to him, jealous and angry.

He opens the door for you and lets you into the office. You enter the room and round the corner away from the door, keeping your gaze at your feet. You fumble with your hands but don’t speak, attempting to gather the courage to ask a question you’re not sure you want the answer to. Joel opens his mouth to start the conversation but before he can speak, there’s another knock at the door. 

He moves to open the door and Rosie, all five feet nine inches of her, is peering at him over her glasses. She throws her arms around him, pushing him back into the room a little, whispering in his ear.

“I heard you were stressed out honey, I can help ya out a little,” as she lowers herself to her knees.

Joel doesn’t even have time to protest as she reaches for his belt, looking up at his face. She stills her hands and follows his gaze behind her, turning back to meet your eyes, which are bulging out of your head.

“Oh PJ, I’m sorry sweetheart, I didn’t know you were in here.” 

She gets up off her knees and quickly exits, leaving you and Joel alone once more. Joel knows the other shoe has dropped. Some of these women have been here for a long time, some for a short time, they are free to come and go if they desire, but living in his house is considered a privilege. He’s the leader of this community and to be able to help take care of his sexual needs and have him take care of yours is held in high honor. 

The women who live here aren’t petty or jealous, they are sweet and giving people, hard workers, and dedicated members of The Valley who make sacrifices and put others – notably Joel – first. They’ve been keeping their distance out of respect for the obvious affection that you and Joel feel for each other, but they must think that since Joel seems stressed then it’s their time to step in and perform their usual duties.

They don’t know that you aren’t aware of the long-standing arrangement they have in this house. They don’t discuss things over the breakfast table but they also don’t keep things secret, because they don’t know that it should be a secret. They’re all open and honest with each other and have no idea that Joel has kept you in the dark about his relationships with them.

Of course, you have been kept in the dark, and now that the light is shining – too brightly – on the truth, it’s making you sick to your stomach. You stare at the ground where Rosie was just kneeling in front of Joel. You know that what you thought you saw last night was, in fact, Kerri leaving Joel’s room after getting him off somehow. It happened. It was about to happen again. It’s probably happened before.

“It’s all of them?” you ask.

Joel shrugs.

“It’s all of them,” you say again, not a question this time. Your vision is going blurry from the blood pumping through your skull so hard. You’re afraid you’re going to pass out. “You fuck all of them?” 

“I have, yeah,” Joel says, shrugging again.

“And you plan to fuck me too?” You can’t even meet his face, your mind is reeling a mile a minute.

“You’re welcome to come to my room anytime you want, baby,” he answers casually. Goosebumps roll across your whole body and you fight back a dry-heave.

“Like they do?”

“Sometimes,” he fucking shrugs again. “It’s not a big deal, PJ.”

You barely hear him, the sound of your own heartbeat creating a hum in your ears, the sick feeling in your stomach rising up your throat, threatening to spill your insides out at your feet. Not a big deal, he says. It’s not a big deal that he’s been lying to you since the day you got here. It’s not a big deal that he wants to use you just like he’s apparently been using these other women, that he wants to use your body for his pleasure. It’s not a big deal that you thought he was different.

And now you see the cracks in this whole place, see it for what it actually is. This place is upholding a façade of a normal society, but it isn’t even close. Joel is treated like some kind of god or king or both and no one says no to him, he gets whatever and apparently whoever he wants. You can’t believe that he made you feel like you mattered when you clearly don’t matter at all. 

You thought he could fix you. All he did was break you. You’ve never felt so low.

“Just another one,” you start to repeat, “Just another one. Just another one. Just another one.”

You’re just another one of these things that he gets when he wants it, and he gets whatever he wants. 

“Just another one. Just another one. Just another one.”

He’s just another man, in a long line of many, who used you.

“Just another one. Just another one.”

He walks towards you, backing you up against the wall, bringing his face closer to yours. Baby, you hear him say, as he brings his lips towards yours. He tries to kiss you but you shudder away, repulsed by him, and he grabs for your arm to pull you back to him. Overwhelmed by his scent and the clawing tightness gripping your insides, you bend at the waist and throw up all over his shoes.

“What the fuck,” he curses loudly before he takes a deep breath, calming himself. “You okay, PJ?” 

He reaches for you again and you push him away, a loud sob leaving your lips. Oh fuckin’ christ, he mutters. Here come the fuckin’ waterworks. You’re making a big deal out of nothing and he’s getting annoyed at the theatrics. He grabs your arm and yanks you up, ignoring the vomit dripping from your chin and the tears streaming down your face. 

“Quit bein’ dramatic,” he says as he shakes you by the arm.

Tess comes in the door just then, seeing your face and the way Joel is manhandling you. 

“What the fuck, Joel?” she wrenches you out of his grip, touching your forehead and feeling your fever. 

She sees the throw-up all over Joel’s feet and sees him roll his eyes. She has no idea what’s going on right now but Joel has lost all his tenderness with you. She scolds him for letting you out of bed, telling him you’re still really sick. She takes you back up to your room, makes you drink some water, and tucks you back into bed, threatening to call the doctor if you try to get up again before your fever breaks.

–

Later that night as Joel heads up to bed he goes to your door and knocks several times, but you don’t answer. He knocks again, no answer, and knocks again. Tess comes out of her room and down the hall, having heard the noise he’s making knocking repeatedly at your door.

“Leave her alone Joel, I told you she’s fuckin’ sick.”

“Shut up Tess,” he doesn’t even turn to look at her. “Get back in your room.”

He throws your door open and sees you laying in bed with your back to the door. He says your name several times but you don’t move a muscle. He takes a step forward, his foot crossing the threshold to your room.

“Don’t you dare,” Tess snaps at him. 

His steps halt. He says your name again, louder this time. Aside from the rise and fall of your breathing, you don’t move. He knows you can hear him, the whole house can fucking hear him. Tess is behind him, berating him some more. He repeats your name, yelling now. He hears a door down the hallway open, yells again, hears Tess hissing stop it, goddamnit, and then hears another door open.

How dare you fucking ignore him. Who the fuck do you think you are right now? He lifts his foot to take another step into your room and he hears Tess start to go ballistic behind him, cursing and bellyaching.  Why don’t you fucking look at him? He hears whispers of the other women further down the hallway. Jesus fucking christ, why don’t they leave him alone? Why don’t you roll over? 

He steps back into the hallway and slams your door closed, rattling the walls of the entire house. “Go to bed,” he screams at Tess. “Go the fuck to bed,” he repeats down the corridor as he steps into his room, slamming his own door behind him as well.

🖤

NEXT

Thank you endlessly to @papipascalispunk for helping me with this series and listening to me rant about Cult Leader Joel. 🫂 I appreciate you SO much.

TAGLIST (lmk if you wanna be added or removed) @strang3lov3 @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @covetyou @iamasaddie @sr-lrn @clawdee @theywhowriteandknowthings @beefrobeefcal @merz-8 @speckledemerald @alltheseperfectimperfections @survivingandenduring @afraidtofear @millennial-teenybopper @missladym1981 @xdaddysprincessxx @lumoverheaven @ghoulettesinspace @brittmb115 @wintersquirrel @obscurexsorrows @littlevenicebitch69 @lulawantmula @pedroswife69 @joeldjarin @heimtathurss @untamedheart81 @pixielou5 @feel1n-h1gh

[nectardaddy]

'88 Ford | Kita Shinsuke

chapter two | stormin'

masterlist

ignore timestamps

track two . . . daylight

It rained hard. Droplets beating at the tin roof of the barn overhead, the downpour overflowing the gutters as water escaped in droves; the open rolling doors of the building looking more like a waterfall as it rained. A sigh escaping his lips as his eyes flickered over towards the entrance, there went the rest of his field work.

Wiping oil and grease coated hands on an old shop rag, he then swiped a hand over his forehead; traces of the dark liquids being left in place of the sweat that was once there. It was humid and sticky more than anything, water vapor sticking to the tin walls and staying as it had no where else to go; he couldn't take a deep breath without thinking it was harder to breathe.

"Sorry I couldn't be much help, sir," stating an apology as he looked over to the older man next to him. Shoving the, now dirty, rag into his pocket to not further the mess of the barn.

"Quit apologizing," the older man, his boss, griped. "I d'know' what the hell is wrong with it either, son." Tagging on the latter name with ease; a familiar verbiage Shinsuke, had to quickly, become accustomed to upon getting the job. To the man, workers were either 'son' or 'asshole,' to which he much preferred 'son.'

Brown eyes watched as the other backed away from the piece of machinery that both once tried to fix, deciding it was better left alone for the time being or his temper would get the best of him. However the sharp tone of a phone ringing cut off the older man's woes completely, grunting as he fished the phone from his pocket and looked at the caller id. "Damn, what did she do now?" Muttering to himself before answering.

Shinsuke couldn't help but feel fairly out of place during the interaction, stepping backwards as to not be within ear shot; but not knowing what to do after. It would be rude to walk away completely, and it was pouring outside regardless, but he didn't want to make it seem like he was eavesdropping. So he opted for turning his gaze towards the ground, hell bent on making his presence feel as small as possible.

"It's easing up some now," he heard, suspecting the man spoke about the rain. "Kita'll' come get you while it's slowed, we'll come back and fix it once it stops." The mention of his name garnered his full attention, raising his head and looking over to his boss in confusion. The man saw his puzzled expression and took the phone away from his ear, holding it towards his shoulder. "My daughter had the genius idea of barreling down the gravel road across the way and got a flat tire," he groaned. Earning a, frighteningly, audible I can hear you through the phone.

"The road that goes into town?" Asking a clarifying question as he realized he was being volun-told to do something, to which the other man nodded. While it wasn't out of the ordinary for him to be asked, or matter-of-factly told, to do something, this situation was far from any others. Asked to be around the woman that made him a puddle of a man created a pit in his stomach. "She alright, sir?"

"Fine. But mad as hell, so get going," he groaned, to which the pit in his stomach only grew more. While one concern was dashed, another took precedent within his mind. How he would manage to reel in his emotions was beyond him. Never rude, and never overstepping, frankly terrified of the repercussions of so much as thinking about her too much, but he was wholeheartedly a lovesick idiot.

A lovelorn moron who adored the very woman he was told to pick up, the daughter of the man who gave him his job in the first place. While he thanked a higher power he was dependable and trustworthy, this was awful. "Yes, sir," he replied before tightening his jaw, "I'll go get her."

It was still raining, however, the wash out had turned to a gentle shower; but he knew it would soon turn back to beating down, the clouds still low and dark as he exited the barn. He quickened his pace to a jog to prevent his, already dirty, clothes from becoming soaked as he neared his truck.

Opening the door, he stepped up, dirt and mud falling from boots as they came in contact with the step bar. He closed the door once inside and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath in through his nose and out through his mouth.

It'll be fine. She's as pretty as sin, but it'll be fine.

taglist under cut

@wyrcan @chizunata @seroh @chemiru @froyaoya

@h3xi2g0n3 @localgaytrainwreck @mollyrolls @causenessus @diorzs

@rory-cakes @phoenix-eclipses @pattys-got-cakes @girlkissersco

[veronicaphoenix]

Series: Into the Abyss of Bad Habits | masterpost Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Reader x Oliver Sykes

Hearts Like Ours. Additional multipart. Chapter 2: The Angel of Death | Words: 8k Summary: The morning after her breakdown, Reader does not expect to get any better until a certain person unexpectedly appears at her front door.

Tags and trigger warnings: established polyamorous relationship, angst, hard truths, anxiety, mentions of parent's negligence, comfort/fluff, noah only appears on phone in this part but he's mentioned throughout the entirety of the chapter, soft!oli, mentions of blowjobs, sexual content (spit used as lubricant, p. in v., protected).

Author’s note: this is mostly self-indulgent so bear with me, i love softness 🥹 It's also another attempt at writing something short and ending up with 8k 🫠 Regarding tags, I'm trying something new and tagging everybody down below in the comment section, given that as of lately a few people have reached out to tell me they didn't get the notification and I've read somewhere that tags indeed are not working well. So let's see if this does the trick.

When she woke up the next morning, her neck and stomach ached, a remainder that she had skipped dinner the night before. Sitting up, the two shirts she had slept with clung to her and then fell to the floor, reminding her why she had chosen to sleep on the sofa instead of the bed. She was alone. Noah wouldn’t be home for another three days, and Oliver was lost somewhere in the southern United States.

            It was Saturday. How was she supposed to spend the entire day alone at home, with no work and no one around? She felt even more pathetic than she had the night before. What was happening to her? She hadn’t always been this dependent; she hadn’t always felt this miserable. 

            But then again, it wasn’t every day that your mother hurled insults at you and made you feel dirty in a way that was far from the real thing. 

            She ran her hands over her face. If only Luna were here... Given her age, Oliver had decided not to bring her to America, and now his father, Ian, was taking care of her. 

            Last year, they had talked about adopting a dog, mostly so she would have company when the boys were away, but with work and the idea of getting married, adoption had been pushed aside. Now she regretted not insisting more.

            Still holding the shirts, she went upstairs and made a quick trip to the bathroom, overwhelmed by another wave of misery as she caught sight of herself in the mirror—eyes swollen from yesterday’s crying and her face as pale as a ghost. The sight of Noah’s and Oliver’s toiletries—their toothbrushes, shaving cream, face wash from different brands, a facemask Oliver had recently got from Lush…—only deepened her sadness. 

            Her deep sigh echoed in the empty space. 

            She had to eat something and get out of the house, get some sun and fresh air. She’d told Jack she would visit Sylvie, but the truth was she didn’t feel like it. She was happy for them. She was going to be an aunt. But she was feeling so blue that, she knew if she met Sylvie, both would end up crying, for totally different reasons.  

            So, she opted to tidy up and spend the day cleaning. That’s one of the things Noah used to do whenever his mind was not in the right place. 

            Before breakfast, she checked her phone, tempted to message the boys and tell them she was going through hell, that she couldn’t silence the voices in her head —especially her mother’s— and that she needed them because she felt like she was sinking. She wanted to swim to the surface but felt like she had a rock tied to her ankle, and she would probably drag herself to the bottom before they came home. 

            She hated being aware of the self-destruction her own mind subjected her to and not being able to do anything to stop it. It was a battle against herself that she couldn’t win. A battle she had fought before, and although it seemed she had won many times, those demons always came back sooner or later. 

            In the end, she just let Noah and Oliver know she was awake and, to distract them, sent a couple of photos of her underwear abandoned on the floor when she changed into somehting more decent. She knew that spending the whole day in pajamas would only worsen her state. 

            In the kitchen, she made herself a cup of tea and something to eat. 

            After having lunch on the back porch and letting herself be caressed by the sun in one of the hammocks, she went back inside, ready to spend the next few hours watching a comforting movie on the couch. Or perhaps an angsty one, and cry a few more tears. What did it matter now?

            She remembered then she hadn’t picked up the mail for the past four or five days. A mix of excitemend and dread flooded her at the thought that maybe Oliver had sent a postcard from wherever he was, even if it was just from somewhere else in the country. He’d started doing that the previous year, and it was a sweet gesture that always warmed her heart. 

            Stepping outside, she found her neighbor Marina tending to her plants and flowers in the front yard, a lovely married woman in her forties with two children. They greeted each other, and Marina asked about the boys. She replied that there were still a few days left before they returned, and Marina, probably sensing her sadness, kindly suggested joining her at her house any afternoon for tea. It was a comforting gesture, though still far from the kind she truly wanted.

            With only a couple of letter in her hands and no postcard from Oliver, she made her way back to the front door, only taking a couple of steps before the sound of a car pulling into the driveway and stopping made her turn around. The sight of the black Range Rover made her heart flip and almost lose her balance.  

            Oliver stepped out of the car, closing the door behind him without taking his eyes off her. During the short walk toward her, his green gaze remained steady and unwavering. He wore casual jeans and a t-shirt, exuding calm determination. 

            Before she could even react, he was in front of her, gently holding her face in his hands, and then he kissed her. 

            Her hands instinctively moved to his chest, her right one still clutching the envelopes. However she could, her fingers gripped his black tee tightly, as if fearing he might disappear at any moment. 

            His mouth was warm, his kiss passionate and urgent. She was left nearly breathless. 

            When she finally lowered herself from standing on her tiptoes and opened her eyes, her heart was pounding wildly.

            “What are you doing here?” she managed to say, it being the only coherent thought she could muster. In truth, she didn’t care about the answer. It was enough that he was there in the flesh.

            Oliver let out a sardonic smile. “Hello to you too, love,” he said, poking her nose. “Where am I supposed to be when my girl needs me?” 

            His words stunned her for a few seconds as he took her hand and stroked the back of it with his thumb. 

            Of course, it had to be Jack who told him. 

            “But—What about the tour? How did you get here so fast?” She asked, still gripping his t-shirt with one hand. 

            “We’d better go inside,” he suggested, nodding towards the house next door where Marina was watching them absently as she trimmed the dried leaves from her plants. Oliver waved at her, asking how she was with the easy charm of a gentleman. 

            Marina would have chatted for quite a while, likely making mention of his girl’s mood and asking Oliver the very questions she wanted answers to. But Oliver, sensing this, skillfully dissuaded her in less than thirty seconds, practically dragging his girl inside the house. 

            Once inside, with the door closed behind them, she dropped the letters on a small table in the entryway and threw herself into his arms, bursting into tears on the spot. 

            Having Oliver there, being able to hold him, inhale his masculine scent mingled with his perfume, and feel the brush of his long hair against her cheeks, felt like a miracle.

            “Please, don’t go.”

            “Love, I just got here.”

            “I know, but I’m sure you’ll have to leave again in a couple of hours.”

            With a resigned sigh, Oliver took her hand and guided them both into the living room, settling onto the couch. 

            Oliver observed her silently for a moment, studying her face for signs of the previous day’s tears and the sleepless night. They were all there, all too evident. 

            He gently stroked her cheek, and she leaned into his touch, savoring the moment, the warmth of his skin against hers. 

            “I can stay until tomorrow night,” Oliver murmured softly. “As soon as Jack called me, I booked the first available flight out of Houston. We have two days off until the next show. I have to be in Kansas City the day after tomorrow. But please, don’t worry about that now. What the hell happened?” 

            She struggled before mustering the courage to tell him. 

            She began with a vague summary of the events, but Oliver insisted on the details, wanting to know every word her mother had spoken. 

            She watched as he clenched his jaw, holding back a torrent of curses. 

            As a few more tears traced down her cheeks, Oliver gently pulled her into his embrace and fetched a box of tissues from a nearby coffee table. 

            “Why didn’t you wait until Noah and I were back?” He questioned, watching her wipe her tears. “We said we’d tell her together, precisely to avoid this,” he said, not intending to scold her but clearly unsettled by her decision to face her mother alone. 

            “I know, but I couldn’t shake the thought, and I didn’t want her saying anything hurtful to you, so I thought I could handle it on my own,” she confessed, sniffling into the tissue then dropping it on the coffee table.

            “And did it do you any good?” Oliver asked, his tone soft, his gaze tender as he peered at her. 

            “No,” she replied, shaking her head, defeated. “It just made everything worse. I’ve spent the last twenty-four hours feeling miserable and missing you both terribly. Last night, I felt like I couldn’t breathe without you guys around. I just wanted to protect you…” she trailed off, her voice heavy. 

            “I know,” Oliver murmured, gently touching her face again. “But we protect each other, don’t we? We’re stronger together. If Noah and I feel low, we lean on you, and you make us feel better. That’s how it works. You have to let us do the same, doll. It’s taking you too long to get rid of this habit.” 

            She sighed, but she knew he was right. 

            “If you keep everything to yourself, then what’s the point of this? Of us? Of being in any relationship, for that matter?” Oliver continued, his eyes reflecting her own sadness. “We’re together because we love each other, and by love I mean that we’re by each other’s side under any circumstance. Loving us is not just you giving me and Noah blowjobs and letting us have our ways with you, baby. Loving us means you’ll let us know when you’re anxious, when you’re sad or angry. You’ll let us help you because we want and we love every part of you—the good, the bad, and everything in between. Wasn’t that clear?” 

            His words made her feel terrible, very aware of her mistakes, but she deserved it. If anything, to at least make her understand for once and for all that she had to lay her head on their shoulders whenever she needed, without a second of hesitation. 

            “I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just hard… because loving also implies that you don’t want the other person to get hurt, and all I was doing was…” she trailed off. There was no point. Her voice turned into a whisper and then into desperation fading into nothing. 

            Oliver squeezed her hand and placed it on his thigh, speaking gently.

            “Listen, I know this is hard to accept, but you don’t owe anything to your mother,” he began. “Our parents made us, but we’re not meant for them. You’re meant for me and Noah. Everything else, everyone else, is just a bystander to your story. You can’t force them to be a part of your life if they don’t want to, darling. It sucks. It fucking sucks because sometimes you want people to be part of your life so bad… but they don’t want to be; they don’t want to share your happiness, they might not even understand it, and that’s okay.” When he saw her face, Oliver chuckled softly. “I’m not saying that the things your mom said were okay, but you get my point. You’re not meant to live your life by your mom’s wishes or follow in her footsteps. You don’t have to walk with her. You’re walking with Noah and me.”

            Seen that way, from that perspective, Oliver was undeniably right. 

            She had spent much of her life trying to please her mother, striving to be a perfect daughter even when she wasn’t consciously aware of it. Since formalizing her relationship with Noah and Oliver, she had come to realize how many decisions she had made in the past with her mother in mind rather than herself. And now, with her mother’s rejection of her relationship with the boys, all that weight came crashing down on her.  

            Her mother didn’t want her, didn’t want a daughter like her. But as a parent, there’s only so much control one can have. She wasn’t a child anymore, she was an adult, and she had done nothing wrong. She had simply fallen in love. Hard and twice.

            Loving wasn’t a crime, and as much as it pained her not to be able to share that happiness with her mother, as much as her mother couldn’t see how happy Oliver and Noah made her, she realized that her attempts to make her mother understand had to come to an end. After all, Oliver’s words spoke the truth: the most important people were the two of them, her fiancés.  

            Staring at the ring on her finger as realization dawned on her, she was filled with profound sadness. She had lost her father long ago, a man who had chosen to go his own way, unable to wait until his children were old enough to let them walk their own path and make their own decisions. And now, she felt she had lost her mother, too. 

            One parent had not waited to see her grow up; had not held her hand as she learned to walk the path of life. The other one was unwilling to see her walk hand in hand with two men. 

            Tears welled up in her eyes once more before she could stop them. She was a mess. 

            “I know it hurts,” Oliver’s voice soothed her, his hand running gently throught her hair, “but you gotta let it hurt until it doesn’t anymore. There are some things we cannot change, and this, I’m afraid, is one of them, baby.”

            Seeking solace, she moved to straddle him, unable to bear the distance anymore. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her head on his shoulder, tears streaming down her cheeks and staining Oliver’s tee’s fabric. She let him envelop her in his embrace, pressing herself against his body as he held her close. He placed a couple of tender kisses on her shoulder and neck, offering her the comfort she needed. 

            She remained in his arms for a while, relishing the warmth of his body, the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat against her own, and the security of being in his arms. His whispered words of comfort in her ear were like a balm to her troubled soul. 

            She could easily drift off to sleep there, cocooned in his arms , feeling grateful that Oliver had dropped everything just to come home and be with her. 

            “Did you tell Noah?” She whispered, her lips brushing against his neck as she resisted the urge to move even an inch away from him. 

            “Yes, of course I did,” he replied, his hand finding the hem of her shirt and sneaking in to rub her back. She was soft as silk and he would be lying if he said he hadn’t missed the feel of her skin under his hands every single day and night he spent away. “But I want you to call him and talk to him. He’s worried.”

            The sigh that escaped her this time was heavy. 

            “What?” Oliver said, teasing her. “Did you think that picture of your underwear on the bedroom floor was going to do the trick?” 

            She shrugged, not particularly caring. 

            “Come on,” he encouraged, pullling out his iPhone, resolute on not extending that dispiriting situation any second longer. “He might still be up.”

            Without a chance to compose herself or check her appearance in the mirror, Oliver was already Facetiming Noah. 

            As soon as Noah’s face appeared on the screen, looking all cozied up in a hoddie and sat on his hotel bed, he saw her curled up in Oliver’s lap, her head resting on his shoulder with her tear-stained face, and his expression fell. Noah clicked his tongue, his brown eyes filling with sadness.

            “Kitten..”

            She tried to hold back another wave of tears and sobs. She sniffled and attempted to smile. But as soon as she uttered “I miss you”, she had to take a moment to steady her breathing and control her sobbing. Oliver pressed a kiss to her forehead. 

            A few moments were filled only with her soft crying, then, with some self-control, in the quiet of the house, she began to talk to Noah, recounting every hurtful thing her mother had said.          Instead of feeling tortured by reliving those moments, she focused on the relief of sharing her pain with her boys, feeling lighter now that they knew. 

            Noah did his best to offer comfort from the other end of the line, though he knew it wasn’t a simple fix. He was just grateful that Oliver had rushed home to be with her, knowing that besides words of reassurance, she needed their physical presence.

            Just as much as she needed them, he needed her and Oliver.

            All those nights on the road, sleeping in bunk beds or alone in hotel rooms, had been manageable until he fell in love. Suddenly, sleeping alone felt like a punishment for every misstep in life. He understood her perfectly. And considering what her mother had said… Fuck. All he wanted was to be there for her, to hold her while Oliver comforted her, feeling complete with them by his side.

            It was late where he was, and she could tell from the exhaustion etched in his eyes. Her own state wasn’t helping him at all, so she mustered the strength to encourage him to end the call and get the rest he needed. He promised her he’d be home soon. Just a few more days. Nothing would keep him from coming back home to her. 

            After hanging up, Oliver tenderly touched her face, his thumb stroking the side of her jaw as she breathed against him. 

            “You look tired, too,” he remarked.

            “I didn’t sleep much last night,” she admitted. 

            “Want to take a nap? I could use one myself,” he suggested. 

            With a nod, she attempted to rise from his lap, but Oliver shook his head. He grabbed a folded blanket from the sectional and urged her to lay down as he nestled in beside her, letting her find a comfortable position with her head on his chest and her legs intertwined with his. 

            He enveloped her and covered them both with the blanket. He kissed her hair tenderly and she reciprocated by pressing a kiss to his clavicle. After exchanging whispered “I love yous”, she finally allowed herself to drift off to sleep, comforted by the presence of at least one of her boys being home. 

Despite his own exhaustion after an impromptu flight and the whirlwind of the past twenty-four hours, Oliver found it difficult to fall assleep. He waited until her soft breathing indicated she was in a deep slumber before carefully disentangling himself from her arms and legs.

            Ensuring she was covered with the blanket, he tiptoed to the kitchen, where he leaned with his forearms against the cool marble tiles of the island as he unlocked his phone and texted Noah. 

            Oliver: Still up?

            Noah: Yep. Can’t sleep.          

            Without a second thought, he dialed his number, making sure to keep his voice low as to avoid waking her up. By the time he had filled a glass with water, Noah’s voice was on his ear. 

            “What’s up? Is she feeling any better?” Noah asked.

            “She’s passed out on the sofa,” Oliver informed him after taking a sip. “But she looks tired, and sad,” he continued, glancing towards the open hallway door that lead to the living room, as if he could see her. He could picture her gloomy features from before she’d fallen asleep. “How about you coming back earlier? Could you make it?” He asked, aware of the significant distance separating them. Noah was in Europe, not just a few states away. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but if you could make it, give her a surprise, cheer her up… She doesn’t just need me. She needs both of us. And,” he made a pause before changing his tone, “you owe me a blowjob.”

            “I don’t owe you a blowjob,” Noah replied, his voice rising slightly. “You didn’t send those tacos, man.”

            “I’ll drive you to the damn restaurant.”

            “Needy, huh?”

            “Very. I want to see you before I hit the road again,” he admitted, then softened again. “She needs you here, Noah. Think you can make it earlier than scheduled?”

            “Yeah, yeah…” he trailed off, as if preoccupied with something else. Oliver heard the clicking of a keyboard, muffled in the background. “I was actually just checking flights…”

            “Oh, good.”

            “The first one is in three hours. I could catch that one and—”

            “In three hours?” Oliver exclaimed, furrowing his brow. “Dude, get some sleep first. I didn’t mean for you to—”

            “I can’t sleep knowing she’s upset because of what her mom said to her,” Noah retorted, setting his MacBook aside and getting up from the bed. “We have a couple of interviews scheduled for tomorrow, but I’ll ask Jolly and Folio to handle them. I’m nearly done with my packing, so I can head to the airport in less than twenty minutes. If I catch that flight, I can make it home tomorrow before evening.”

            “Fuck. Okay. That’s great. It’ll give us a few hours together.” 

            “Yeah, just come pick me up at the airport, all right?” he concluded. “Keep her distracted with something. Tell her you’re going to get a haircut.”

            “Dude, she’s going to be glued to me the whole time because I’m leaving tomorrow night. And a haircut? That would be the lamest excuse after I left my own tour to be home with her. You have the worst ideas,” he complained as he shook his head. “Can you not get an Uber?” 

            “Just come pick me up,” Noah said, resolute, “and you’ll get that damn blowjob.” 

An hour and a half later, her voice calling out for Oliver echoed through the walls of the house’s ground floor. 

            Oliver appeared at the threshold of the archway into the living room, holding a tray with pastries and two mugs of hot chocolate.

            She blinked a few times, rubbing her eyes with one hand still half-covered by the fluffy blanket. Oliver struggled to decide if she looked adorable or too tempting to resist making love to her right there on the sofa.  

            “Am I dreaming?” She mumbled, prompting Oliver to let out a chuckle. 

            “Nah,” he replied, walking towards her. “These croissants were frozen. I thought Noah got rid of them after his lecture on how unhealthy and useless it is to buy frozen food, but surprise: he didn’t. So now I get to treat you,” he finished, setting the tray next to her. The smell of freshly baked croissants and hot chocolate filled her senses, and for a moment, everything felt perfect. 

            She gave him a tiny smile. 

            “Just don’t tell him I baked them for us,” Oliver added, his tone hushed, as if Noah was there and could hear them. He had changed into more comfortable clothes and was now wearing a white t-shirt and dark grey sweatpants she had washed and ironed more than two weeks ago.

            “I will tell him,” she whispered, with a hint of mischief in her voice. Her sleepy face, however, made her look more adorable than mischievous.  

            Oliver rolled his eyes. “He’ll make me wear the maid costume and cook homemade sugar-free croissants for him as punishment.”

            “You look adorable in that, though,” she commented, grabbing one of the croissants and using her other hand to catch the crumbs.  

            “Do I, now?”

            She nodded, her mouth already stuffed with a big bite. Oliver smiled and touched the corner of her lower lip, wiping away a crumb with his thumb. 

            “Feeling any better?”

            Swallowing, she nodded. 

            “What do you feel like doing?” he asked, still concerned. He had dropped everything to be home with her, so he would only do as she pleased. “Movie and cuddles?” he guessed. “We can take it easy and spend the rest of the day snuggled in here. We don’t have to go anywhere. We’ll order takeout for dinner, then maybe a hot bath before bed.”

            She absorbed his words, blinking and chewing slowly.

            That sounded like… Heaven. 

            Instead of quickly agreeing to his appeal, which was irresistible, she asked, “What time do you have to be at the airport tomorrow?” There was a note of anguish in her voice because she dreaded the answer. She just wanted him to stay for a while longer, to extend that dreamlike weekend that was, in fact, her real life. 

            “Not ‘til late at night. We have the entire day together tomorrow, don’t worry,” he reassured her again, taking his mug of hot chocolate to his lips. She watched as the dark brown liquid touched his lips and how his own tongue licked them clean afterward. “Let’s choose a movie and get comfy, yeah?”

            The next fifteen minutes slipped away as they struggled to decide on a movie. By the time they settled on one neither had seen, the croissants were gone and Oliver had finished his chocolate. They cuddled through the entire film, occasionally shifting positions, playing with each other’s hair, and kissing. They made comments about the movie and chatted about he film and other trivial things. 

            By the time the sun began to set on the horizon, the house was enveloped in the serenity their nearly routine evening. She was in the living room, tidying up the small mess they had made, folding blankets, and arranging the cushions on the sofa. Meanwhile, Oliver busied himself in the kitchen, plating the takeaway food that had arrived just minutes before. 

            If Noah had been there, he would have been nearing his time out in the studio. Then he would’ve joined oliver in the kitchen to set the table. 

            That was a familiar routine, which happened at least once a week, usually on Fridays, marking the start of a long weekend where work was left behind and their time was fully devoted to each other. 

            Whenever the three of them were engrossed in individual tasks, especially in the afternoon or evening, the house exuded a peaceful ambiance. Sometimes, Noah would light incense and play relaxing background music as they went about their activities. If they crossed paths in the hallway or in any other room, Noah would grab her waist and pull her in for a kiss. If he encountered Oliver, she would hear a sweet exchange of words and laughs between them from the other room. 

            It was lovely, what they had built. A precious home and a beautiful family. 

             After filling their stomachs and clearing up the kitchen, Oliver urged her upstairs for a well-deserved hot bath, but she declined, stating that she prefered the shower. 

            As mesmerizing as the idea of a hot bath sounded, the reality was that, despite their efforts to get a larger-than-average tub for the master bedroom’s bathroom, Oliver was too tall to fit comfortably if she was also inside. What to say about Noah? He just outright hated bathtubs and found it a waste of space. It wasn’t that he couldn’t fit in with either of them; he simply couldn’t fit comfortably on his own.

            After some persuasion, she finally found herself naked under the hot shower, with Oliver’s bare body behind her, his hands massaging shampoo into her hair. The intimacy of the moment was heightened by the familiarity of the shampoo the three of them shared. 

            They took turns washing each other, making sure to apply a bit of pressure here and there to relieve sore muscles, especially Oliver’s, strained from days of performing on stage for over two hours and getting to bed late. The physical demands of his routine weren’t always ideal, but she appreciated how they had toned his body over the years, giving him strenght and stamina. She relished his manly physique, a mix of rough and soft areas that she found squishy. She just loved every part of him. 

            When he got down on one knee to soap up her thighs, she took the opportunity to wash his hair, enjoying the sweetness that spread through her veins and to her heart when he pressed a few kisses from her navel down to her lower belly. 

            After they were thoroughly washed, Oliver rinsed his hair under the water one last time, throwing his head back and closing his eyes, lips parted, neck exposed and muscles on display as he moved his hair back with both hands. 

            As attractive as the sight was —which, under other circumstances, would have just gotten her on her knees, and not exactly to wash his thighs—, the part of her that craved a deeper connection took control. She wanted a closeness that went beyond the physical act of giving each other pleasure. 

            She wrapped her arms around his torso and pressed her cheek to his chest, acutely aware of the ticking clock and the precious time slipping away from them.  

            Oliver didn’t say anything. He kept the water running and hugged her back, resting his chin atop her head. The mirror above the sink and the window overlooking the garden had fogged up, and the vapor was filling the room even though they had left the door open.

            Minutes passed, the water turning cold, droplets hitting the tiles, her breaths soft and steady, following the rhythm of Oliver’s heartbeat. When she lazily ran her fingers down his back and wandered down to one of his buttocks, she felt him shiver slightly, and her curse nearly disrupted their peace. 

            “You’re cold,” she pointed out, peering up at him. 

            “It’s okay, love.”

            But it wasn’t. Taking his hand, she turned off the water and pulled them out of the shower, handing Oliver his towel while she grabbed hers. 

            Oliver wasn’t done soothing her. He let her dry herself up and brush her hair. He left the bathroom for a couple of minutes to get some underwear, finding another one of Noah’s boxers in his drawer. Instead of pointing it out to her and reminding her that the boxers with the chibi drawings of Titan were Noah’s, he laughed and opted to keep them there. He would enjoy watching Noah huff and rummage through his own underwear looking for those specific boxers when he returned. 

            Returning to the bathroom only wearing black boxers, his wair still wet and dripping, he used the towel to dry it a bit before discarding it on the floor and refocusing his attention on his girl. She was occupied checking her eyebrows in the mirror, a habit he found amusing because he could never understand what she thought was wrong with them. Taking advantage of her distraction, he poured some hydrating lotion into his palm, rubbed his hands together, and kneeled to spread the cream on her thighs. 

            She let out a cry of surprise at the sudden cold sensation, but quickly adjusted to it and found herself enamored with the way he looked up at her as he massaged her body once more, tenderly applying lotion to her skin. The smell of lavender filled the room as he stood up to gently smooth it onto her shoulders, his hands moving in slow, soothing circles. She was truly getting spoiled as his touch traced the contours of her arms and back, each caress a silent promise of his love and devotion. She closed her eyes when she felt threathened by another wave of emotion and gratitude. She wouldn’t be hard on herself again and say that she didn’t deserve him, or Noah, but the truth was that they were too good to her, and her heart kept on swelling every time they shared a simple yet intimate moment as such.

            “You didn’t have to do that,” she said, her cheeks red—perhaps from shyness or perhaps because it was too hot in the bathroom.  

            “Shh. I love pampering you, and that’s why I’m here now. In two weeks I’ll be back to busy boyfri—fiancé, sorry, mode, with no time to shower with his loves because the artist’s life is a twenty-four hour job. So, rejoice,” he finished the sentence by touching her nose and leaving a stain of cream for her to spread.

            She muttered an “ouch” and glared at him, nearly pouting at the truth of his words. 

            While that had been an isolated scenario and the timing of both bands’ tours had coincided leaving her alone for quite a long period of time, she couldn’t really complain about her job or about her life in the big picture. She was as happy as any girl could be with two men loving her unconditionally day and night, which made her aware that if somedays they were not attentive as she wished, it wasn’t because they chose to be distant. It was their demanding jobs, so different from her mundane one. Their careers sometimes took a toll on them, but it was a sacrifice they made for something they loved, and she admired them for it. They were passionate and dedicated, as they were with her, too. She would never ask them to prioritize her over their bands because they themselves knew when to put a stop to it and get their feet back on solid ground. It was sometimes a difficult balance to navigate, but with each other’s help, they knew how to make it work without letting it consume them anymore. 

            Her eyes followed Oliver as he walked barefoot to the other side of the bedroom, heading towards the drawer where he would find his worn-out clothes for sleeping. She watched with a tender expression as a smile appeared on his face when he spotted how neatly his t-shirts and sweats were stored in the drawer. As mundane and tedious as the task of folding clothes may seem, it was something both of them enjoyed doing together every once in a while—seated on the carpeted floor, picking up each item from the laundry basket and adding it to one of the three piles next to them: Oliver’s, Noah’s, and hers. 

            Folding clothes was sort of a meditation, and given that she had spent the last weekends alone, one of them had been dedicated to reorganizing the cupboards and drawers, including refolding all those clothes that had been thrown to the back of the cupboard. 

            She could have stared at Oliver for hours, but the clock would still keep ticking. 

            Licking her lips and rubbed the heel of her left foot on her right calf, her expression fell a little as she called out to him. 

            “Yeah?” He asked. 

            “Make love to me?”

            Her voice came out as a whisper, a plea that he didn’t understand, for she didn’t have to ask for that. Ever. So he nearly laughed, but aware that maybe it wasn’t the best reaction, he dropped back into the drawer the clothes he had picked and walked to her, with determined strides, his green eyes focused on her as if nothing could make him look away.

            “Did you even consider I wouldn’t intend to?”

            Uncertainty clouded her eyes, but her hand released the corner of the towel she had secured atop her chest, letting the only fabric covering her body fall to the floor.

            Oliver’s gaze fell to her breasts, and then down below, as if he hadn’t seen that same beautiful body, those edges and curves, merely five minutes ago.

            She parted her lips to speak, to ask him to touch her, but Oliver was quicker. He picked her up in his arms, prompting her to wrap her legs around his waist. She stared down at him for a few seconds, struck by the light those green eyes contained, how much power to turn someone’s life into something beautiful with just one look. 

            Oliver carried her to bed. He laid her down on the mattress, her head propped up on the  numerous pillows that Noah, ever the minimalist, didn’t understand. In a matter of seconds, Oliver discarded his boxers and crawled up to cover her body with his. Holding his weight on hands and knees, he bent his head down and kissed her, her hand sneaking up to the back of his head and tangling in his curls, still damp from the shower and with the lingering scent of the shampoo.

            The kiss was hungry, desperate, wet. She kept pulling him down to her, as if she could do more than just kiss him; as if she could just drink him in, swallow him, keep him in her heart forever. 

            He already was. 

            His hand pushed at one of her knees, silently instructing her to open her legs for him. When she complied, he touched her folds, his fingers navigating her delights just for a couple of seconds before sinking two fingers inside of her, letting her wrap around his digits with welcoming warmth.

            Her hips arched towards him. 

            “What do you want, love? Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you,” he murmured.

            “Just you,” she sighed, knowing that he would always keep his promises.

             Skipping foreplay, he removed his fingers from inside of her and sat back on his heels, asking her for a condom that she retrieved from one of the drawers on the other side of the bed. He put it on, then spat on his hand and covered her core with his saliva before leaning over her again, fusing his body with hers, one inch at a time. 

            He loved how her breath caught in her throat with every movement, every push in. Her eyes widened and her expression contorted into one of pleasure.

            When he was finally settled in to the hilt, he sought her hand and intertwined his fingers with hers before placing their hands above her head, on the pillows.

            He began to move. A delicate, sweet and hot cadence. 

            He understood that this time it was not just about pleasure; it was about the connection that having their bodies merged brought to each other. It was about finding peace and safety in the vulnerable state of offering yourself to the other, about the relief that it brought to her —and him— knowing they had found each other in this massive universe and that nothing else mattered at the time. 

            Just him, her, and the ghost of Noah, the lingering scent of him that still permeated his side of the bed, on the sheets that she had refused to change after they had left.

            They kissed. Oliver swallowed her moans, relished in the way her nails dug onto his back, the way her thighs pressed him to her, the way she breathed him in and held him, wordlessly telling him she would never let him go. 

            Making love like that focused on the fire of their sexual energy, their passion, and desire, and let those align with their hearts and souls with every thrust and every cry in response. It brought them balance and harmony. It was something beyond the drive and rush experienced any other time, yet someething they needed all the same. 

            That night, she needed that, the slow pace, the eye-contact, and he didn’t mind. How could he? He was benefiting from it all the same. 

            Ever since Noah introduced them to this slower, more mindful practice, Oliver’s connection with both of them had deepened, and it had brought him closer to them (if that was even possible).

            Lost in the passage of time, Oliver whimpered against her, his breaths ragged as he penetrated her over and over and as he looked down at her expression, her eyes closed because she was getting close, her mouth agape in pure bliss, little sweet and honeyed sounds coming out in waves, music to his ears. 

            A few thrusts grew harder and rougher unintentionally, and she moaned loudly, trying to supress a scream by biting onto his arms, right onto the inked angel of death that adorned his skin.  One of his hands cupped her breast, squeezing and rolling her nipple between two fingers, giving her just the touch she needed. His face was buried in the crook of her neck, but his voice reached her ears as he told her he was about to come and needed to feel her climaxing around him, too. 

            The seconds that followed were intense, but not very loud. He spasmed inside of her at the same time that she arched to him, their hips meeting. They rode each other’s orgasms, and the mattress welcomed the dead weight of their exhausted and sated bodies a while after. 

            The bliss that came after that moment gave way to a heavy, contented silence filled with the heady and comforting fragance of sex. 

            Oliver’s body pressed down on her, just a tad sweaty, but she found her sanctuary in his embrace, only imperfect due to the missing weight pressing on her from the other side.  

            “Thank you,” she whispered after she removed some hair from her face and brushed her lips against Oliver’s stubbled chin. Her thighs trembled a little after she let them fall on the mattress, on either side of Oliver’s legs.

            “Always,” he replied, tickling her cheek with his wild strands of hair and tracing a path of kisses down her jaw and neck until he could taste her nipple in his mouth. A moment later, he was back at her mouth, his large hand cupping her cheek, his words seeking reassurance of her well-being. 

            She sighed for what felt a long time. Her fingers, in the meantime, weaved into his damp hair, holding him close. The weight of his body on hers felt grounding, a reminder that he was there, real and solid. His presence and the feeling of him filler her, from the spot between her legs to her heart and soul, was a balm to her frayed nerves, soothing away the remnants of her ealier distress.

            But still. Something was missing. Someone.

            “I’m still upset,” she admitted after a breather from his kiss. She didn’t want to say it right after they made love, but she knew Oliver would understand. That’s what that entire day had been about: her understanding that he would listen, try to comprehend, and never ever diminish fer feelings and emotions. 

            “Why?” he asked. Their voices mere whispers in the night, in a room that also seemed to miss Noah’s presence. “Is it because I have to leave? Doll, Noah will be here in no time.”

            “I know… I’m so happy that you’re here, that you came for me…” Her eyes had wandered down, slightly conflicted at her complaint. “But I want you both,” she confessed, loking back up at him. It wasn’t much of a confession because he already knew that. That had actually been the truth that had got them three together in the first place, the confession to Noah that had urged him to find Oliver and propose to him to share the girl of their dreams in the middle of a tour in the UK. 

            “I miss him, too,” Oliver reminded her, palming her hair, his cock still inside of her. He wouldn’t leave the warmth of her body until she asked him to. Missing Noah was one of the things he hated the most in their relationship. Sometimes they spent months without seeing each other. Oliver would come home and Noah would have left the day before, keeping them on opposite schedules. That was why last year, Oliver had tried to get Bad Omens to play in the same summer festivals as Bring Me The Horizon, so that at least they could be together after their performances and while traveling from one country to another, sparing the enormous pain of coming back home to realize the other wasn’t there yet. 

            It felt relieveing to share that feeling with her. It felt like missing him together took some of the weight off their shoulders. They would lean on each other and wait until Noah was back. Luckily for her —and for him— Noah was now on a flight on his way home, and unbeknownst to her, she would have both his boys home tomorrow, all devoted and willing to kiss the same ground she walked on. 

            “You know what I miss the most about him, actually?” Oliver started to say, his tone a bit more earning and cheerful as he rested his body weight on his elbows and as his fingers moved to reach her ears and start to play with her earrings. 

            “What?”

            “That annoying habit of his of touching my legs with his bare feet under the blanket.”

            Her laugh filled his heart with such relief that he couldn’t even put it into words. He had felt so anguished when Jack called him the day before. All he could think about was how she must have been coping alone after meeting her mother to tell her about the wedding. As Jack spoke to him on the phone, Oliver recalled that night after Jack and Sylvie’s engagement party. Noah and he had tried to make love to her to keep her racing thoughts away from the disastrous first meeting with the woman who would be their mother-in-law, but she had been totally restrained by her anxiety and so upset that they hadn’t been able to calm her down for two days. 

            He didn’t want her to feel like that again, and he knew her state would be even worse now since they weren’t there with her. That’s when he grabbed his phone, wallet, and passport, and headed to the airport. 

             “You know he does that on purpose, right?” she told him, remembering all the times she had been pissed at their antics on either side of the bed. She often found herself squished between their two bodies as Oliver kicked Noah to keep his naked feet away from his calves and Noah pretended to be half asleep while trying to touch him again. In the meantime, she was getting knocked from both sides, suffering Oliver’s kicks and the brush of Noah’s cold feet against her own. “He loves it when you squirm under the sheets.”

            “Of course I know,” oliver admitted. “I’m going to make him pay for it one of these days.”

            “I’d love to see that.”

            Wriggling underneath him, Oliver understood she was getting uncomfortable. 

            He got up only to remove the condom and clean them up a bit, then tucked them both under the covers, letting her find her safety cocoon not on his chest or in the crook of his neck, but on his bicep, which she often mentioned could be used as a pillow. She found exceptional comfort in resting her head against the angel of death tattooed on his arm, his bicep big enough to offer the perfect-sized spot for her to drift into the realm of dreams. 

            The only thing missing was Noah’s arm around her stomach as she lay on her side, keeping her protected from all the evil in the world as he reached over to grab onto Oliver as well, his palm finding his place on Oliver’s hip. 

            They would keep their bodies connected and fall into a peaceful sleep, as if enchanted by a magic they couldn’t see but that was always there, always present in their love for each other.  

CHAPTER 3: THE CROW WITCH - COMING SOON

[buwheal]

[You've Got Mail!]

You can now send your favorite salesman emails!! YAY!!

Here's some rules and information about the askbox.

First and foremost;

I try to answer as many asks as I can, but I will not answer every single one. Sometimes I just cant do anything with it that will work realistically with the perimeters of the world, and I apologize!! Its nothing against you guys!!

(Unless you break the rules ofc.)

So if you dont see yours after a long while, it’s probably something that wont work, sorry! You can always send more than one ask whenever and see if that one works instead!

Besides that, here’s the rest of what you need to know!

[RULES] :

Spamton physically PRINTS OUT each "email", so dont send asks that have a physical interaction. Sorry! Thats just how i decided to set up the world/situation, and is not really anything against you guys :-)

(more of a request than a rule tbh) Preferably try to send real questions or statements. most joke asks are funny, but are surprisingly hard to create an in character response for. You can still send joke asks if you really want to, just dont always expect an answer X-P (i.e. asks that contain nonsense,, you can still be funny and make jokes, and i should probably specify that, but things that are like "you look like a worm" or smth idk i have no clue what to do with lol)

I know he may be a personification of spam emails... BUT DONT SPAM!!! I mean it! It clogs the askbox and is a real pain. You can send him more than one ask, though, as long as you arent repetitively sending a ton in a short burst!! Send as many as you'd like as long as they dont qualify as spam.

Dont be sexual or romantic, please! Even "As a joke". I dont like Spamton like that and it makes me uncomfortable, plus I can't really answer that in character in a way that wouldnt provoke more of that. Thank you!!

Be respectful and patient!! I am just one person doing everything, lol, and this got far more popular than anticipated, so i will take a long time. I try my best to get at least one out every other day but i'll need breaks eventually!!!

I cannot give/spawn/materialize things for/to Spamton if you ask because of the way it’s set up. You are really just lines of text from a computer to Spamton, BUT... You can still do a lot if you think outside the box. or,, errr,, outside the computer. More like IN the computer. Kind of. Your words and your actions affect him and his reactions to you, so word it correctly and you can get him to do something or say something. Hes not stupid though, and he CAN usually tell when your intentions are... less.. than good.

[INFORMATION] :

[YGM!] is technically an AU!!! not only do the events of the game not occur, but this is also set before then!

Asks are put out one a day, regardless if i have more than one, UNLESS i need to connect two(or more) to complete one event. Or i feel like it. a little treat.

I am one person doing every ask and every unique frame of art, so expect 1 ask (If youre lucky, two) maybe every other day Monday-Friday depending on my workload per day.

This is just for fun!! I am using the askbox to exercise my drawing consistency, Spamton's personality, and the way he speaks and responds to different situations! This is a way I am using to improve my understanding of him as a character, so it wont be always consistent as I am growing and learning!

Just a little disclaimer, he WILL be mean. He is a sour, nasty, grumpy, bastard and I am absolutely not opposed to him responding as such. Just keep that in mind when sending an ask if you dont want that!

If you want a common outcome, talk to other people about it! go crazy! I dont mind long threads on my posts if you want to create a plan. Infact, I can even help and tell you things occasionally!!

What you say to him DOES and WILL affect the way he responds. Trust is lost far easier than it is gained, so keep this in mind. It is possible to regain his trust, but still hard. He is not a trusting person to begin with and being mean certainly doesnt help. BUT.. I am not opposed to being mean. Infact, they are quite fun to do. Either way is entertaining for me, so do as you will. YOU can choose to hurt or help him.

Using tone tags, while not required, are really helpful and assist me in understanding the intention in your ask if you think it may be interpreted another way! (i.e. sarcasm) :-)!!

I pick and choose asks depending on his situation, or if i have a good idea for a response, so you may need to wait a bit before i can get to yours!! Ones that i have an idea for take priority, especially when its to progress a scene. Or, alternatively, i am saving your ask for something i have planned.

I WILL reuse frames and poses to get these out faster and for my convienence :-) especially for the frames where there is no need to change his pose! So like.. dont think too hard about it lol.

Also, i prefer if you specify if the ask is for me /or/ Spamton. I do still do normal asks, lol. If its for me, just let me know!! I can usually tell, but most asks will be interpreted as for Spamton. I appreciate ones that start with his name before said thing is asked/stated specifically!! (i.e. "Spamton, __ __ __")

I wont be consistent with the way its answered. Sometimes it's one panel, sometimes its a couple panels, or sometimes they're animated gifs!! It varies depending on what i feel, so if youre lucky you can get a gif, lol. Those take longer usually though. Ive mostly switched to a gif format rather than multiple panels in a comic style, because its much easier to view! The animation quality can vary :-)

Thats about it!! Have fun!! ^_^