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myfictionaldreams · 4 months

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Merry Christmas // Mafia!Stucky x Fem!Reader

Summary: It was a simple question: Have you been naughty or nice this year?

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, dom/sub, costumes/roleplay, rough oral (f and m receiving), rough sex, size kink, praise kink, choking, sir kink, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, subspace, aftercare

A/N: Hello everyone! Sorry, it's been a while since I've posted; I promise to get back to requests at some point. Until then, I just wanted to post a little something and to say Merry Christmas to those who celebrate and Happy Holidays to everyone else!

Words: 2.8k

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Winter was one of your utterly favourite months just for moments like the one you were currently experiencing. The snow layered thickly against the outside of your home, causing a darkened shadow on the inside, which only meant that the blazing fire lit the sitting area in beautiful deep orange and red. The sweet smell of hot cocoa wafted from the kitchen, only making your smile grow as you pulled the fluffy blanket further up your body until the only exposed part of you was your face.

Your back nuzzled further into the soft cushions of the coach you were waiting patiently on, watching the movie with half interest as the comfort of the moment had you wanting to drift into sleep. What’s more was that the meetings that had been planned for later in the evening had inevitably been cancelled due to the freezing weather, which meant that you knew you could sit in with your two boyfriends without the fear of them being out on the dangerous roads, just to attend a threatening meeting.

They were home. Safe. With you.

Blinking open an eye and looking around the room, it dawned on you that they’d been gone from your side for so long that the parts of the cushions they’d been sitting on had turned cold. You’d been drifting between sleep and trying to cuddle closer to them for an hour when Bucky shifted, causing a groan to burst from your throat.

He’d simply kissed your temple tenderly, earning a much-deserved smile in return as he explained that he would make the three of you hot cocoa. Steve had then mumbled something about helping him, but you were too busy trying to reposition your body and get used to not having them squishing either side of you.

Sitting up slightly on the couch, you glanced briefly over the back towards where the kitchen was to see if you could spot either Steve or Bucky, but neither were in sight.

“What’s taking you both so long? I’m getting so cold and lonely out here without you”, you shouted idly with a hint of a whine for emphasis. As you stared up at the TV attached to the wall above the fireplace, you contemplated what film the three of you could watch tonight when you became distracted by the footsteps coming from the kitchen. Frowning, you began to shout, “What took you both so … long?”

Any words you were thinking of asking were swiftly forgotten as your view of the TV was replaced by both of your boyfriends, each standing in oversized Santa trousers, each held up by black suspenders over their shoulders. The red velvet material that covered their strong legs was cuffed with thick white fluff around the ankles and waistline. However, your attention wasn’t forced on this as your eyes squinted, not quite believing the detail; “Have you oiled your chests?” you asked quietly, throat suddenly thick with saliva.

Bucky smirked, tensing his pecs so that you could see the oil's gleam better in the fire's orange light. In any other situation, you might have laughed at the fact that they looked like wannabe Santa strippers, but your pussy was being a traitor with the deep pulse that had your thighs clenching with the desperate need to find some relief.

The baby oil that covered the top half of their naked body seemed to extenuate the god-like bodies they both had, the muscles over their arms and abs flexing with the subtle movements they were both making. Even Bucky’s metal arm was oiled, causing the silver shade to shimmer and gleam.

Your head swivelled between admiring the both of them, unsure what to say or how to act. Thankfully, Steve was the first to speak, his thumbs hooking into the base of the black suspenders as he asked in a deep, gravely voice, “Have you been naughty or nice this year?”

Your lips automatically flicked up at the corners to a teasing smile, but the single eyebrow raised by Steve had you falling right into the trap. All the thoughts that had crossed your mind to laugh and joke with them had quickly melted into the submissive, needy girlfriend that they both wanted.

“Um, nice - I think, " you respond before biting your lower lip, a move that had both Steve and Bucky reaching forward, but the latter made first contact, his metal thump gently easing out the lip from between your teeth.

“Nice huh? You sure about that, Doll?” Bucky asked, his fingers firmly holding your chin so you could not look away from him.

You shivered as Steve eased away the blanket, and even though the room wasn’t cold, the sensations pulsing through your core had your body overreacting. Your eyes had drifted over to Steve, who had squatted to be closer to your height, but a sharp tug on your chin from Bucky had your attention back on him as you tried to form the words to respond to him. “Ye-yes. Yes, I’ve been nice”.

A sharp gasp left your mouth as a quick tug of your nipple from Steve had your body shifting upright. With your arousal building, your nipples had pebbled beneath the thin, oversized top that you wore. Bucky’s eyes seemed to darken as he watched your reaction, the subtle way your hips ground on the couch.

“Really? Because from what I’ve seen, it looks like you’re being a very naughty girl right now. Tell me, Sweetheart, what do you want for Christmas?”

“You”, your response was instantaneous, and it seemed to be the correct answer with the way Bucky smiled down at you before releasing your chin.

“Well, it still remains to be seen if you’ve really been a good girl”, Bucky emphasised the last two words, knowing just how those words stroke the deep praise kink that further warmed your pussy, your wetness beginning to coat your lips and drench your shorts.

“Pl-please let me prove it. I want to be both of yours, good girl.” You look between where Bucky still stood above you, and Steve knelt at your side.

“That’s the thing, Sweetheart. The boss down there seems to agree with you. He thinks you’ve been a good girl all year round for his treats, but me? I’m not convinced; I think I need you to show me just how good you can be”, Bucky explains with darkness lacing his words. “Stand up”, he orders, full of authority. You do, being careful not to knock into Steve as you stand with enough speed that you are somewhat lightheaded. Both of their hands were on you in a split second. Steve grabbed the waistline of your shorts, and Bucky pulled the shirt up and over your head until the two of them had you standing completely bare.

Ungracefully, Bucky pushed against your shoulder, forcing you to sit back onto the warm cushions, looking up at him with wide eyes. A gentle tremor was pulsing through your body with anticipation of what was to come. Your cunt would have been soaked just from the way they were both acting, but with the outfits as well, you were near feral with need.

Bucky’s warm hand gently wrapped around your throat, his thumb and forefinger on either side of your neck, feeling the galloping pace of your heartbeat as you stared up at him. “Will you do everything I say?” he asks with a more gentler tone than before.

“Yes, sir”, you say, voice laced with desperation.

“Good, then I need you to ignore everything that Boss is going to do to you. The only thing I want you to do is to keep your eyes on me”.

“Yes, sir”.

With great ease, Bucky pushed against your neck, forcing you to sit back correctly against the cushions as he began to stand on the couch, just as Steve moved between your legs on the floor, lifting them until your legs lay over his shoulders.

With the oil, your legs wanted to slip off, so his massive hands had to grip onto the flesh of your thighs, keeping them thoroughly in place as he lowered his face to the heat and wetness that was begging for his touch.

As his tongue caressed the length of your pussy, drinking down the juices you’d seeped in the moments of seeing them in the outfits, your moan was cut off by the light squeeze around your throat from Bucky as he subtly reminded you of his demand. Your eyes moved away from Steve and up to the tall, foreboding figure above you as Bucky’s metal hand drifted to his suspenders, pushing them off each shoulder.

“Remember what I said. I want you to ignore him down there and keep your eyes on me. Now, why don’t you prove to me why you should be on the nice list?”.

You were unsure if, by ignoring, he meant for you not to moan or react to Steve’s tongue as it circled your swollen bundle of nerves, but it was damn near impossible to be silent as the waves of toe-curling pleasure sparked through your core. However, your mouth was now salivating for another reason as Bucky pushed the red velvet material down his hips until midthigh, and the thick, veined cock of your boyfriend was throbbing in the air before your face.

Resting your hands on Bucky’s thicks and licking your lips whilst also trying not to crush Steve with your thighs, you willed Bucky to come closer with a pathetic squeak. Thankfully, he removed his hand from your throat and rested it on the back of the couch, using it to lower his body and directing his cock to your mouth. You didn’t waste a second before licking around the tip, gathering all the precum into your mouth before swallowing the salty goodness down, swiftly followed by a few inches of his hard length.

Bucky’s sigh was praise enough to have you feeling sated and happy as you began to pleasure him with your tongue and mouth, almost matching the movements of Steve between your legs.

“That’s it, just a little more; I know you can take it”, Bucky encouraged with a firm hand on the back of your head. As his cock reached the back of your throat and the overwhelming urge to gag overcame you, you attempted to relax your throat to take him deeper, which thankfully worked, ignoring the tears that now lined your eyes from the stimulation.

It didn’t help matters that your throat kept spasming with the moans and whines from Steve’s treatment of your pussy. He was eating you like the man was starved. Devouring is the best way to describe the way he was licking you out. His tongue changed from delving into the depths of your soaking cunt, twisting and turning to stimulate all the nerves within, just to then pull out and his teeth to gently graze your clit, causing a throb from your walls which was the gently eased by his tongue once more.

It took almost no time at all before you were cumming into his mouth with a flush of heat and added wetness that coated his chin and cheeks. Steve didn’t stop, though, and used your overstimulation post-orgasm to draw you closer to a second orgasm.

Your nails digging into the soft material of Bucky’s Santa trousers helped to keep your ground and not drown in the overwhelming length that was still forcing down your throat. With all the time you’d been with Steve and Bucky, you’d thankfully been able to train your throat to be fucked and take more of their length compared to when you were first with Steve.

This feat was a minor miracle because when Bucky began to take control of the situation and gyrated his hips so that he was now just straight-up, fucking your throat, it meant that you were able to breathe through your nose at the correct times without panicking.

Saliva had filled your mouth from the fucking and was steadily dripping down your chin, causing obscene sloppy noises to come from you, but this only added more praising groans from Bucky as you knew he loved a sloppy blowjob.

“Fuck, you’re being such a good girl, Doll. Remember what I said, eyes on me only”. You tried to nod, but the cock in your mouth hindered your movements as your eyes remained focused on the buzz-cut brunette standing over you.

This became more difficult as you noticed movement out of the corner of your eye as you came for the third time. Steve was beginning to straighten his height but remained on his knees; however, your legs were lowered until wrestling around his waist, but his grip remained tight and firm, keeping them in place.

Without warning, immense pressure and stretching of your cunt began to contort your body as Steve began to fuck into your cunt. Thankfully Bucky pulled out enough that you could gasp without his cock filtering the noise as your eyes clenched shut from the welcomed intrusion. Inch after inch filled your empty hole until his hips were flush against yours.

As you and Steve both released a relieved sigh, the dominating hand on the back of your head began to firmly tug your lips closer to Bucky’s cock once more until you were full with both of them.

The two worked together like they did in every aspect of the word. One of them remained in your body as the other pulled out. In out, in out, they fucked you until you were a trembling, wet mess.

Thankfully, now, they were both heavily praising you, which was like sweet music to your ears.

“Taking my cock so well”.

“Fuck, you always make me feel so good. Yes, just like that”.

“Such a good girl, Doll. I know you wanna cum on Steve’s cock; do it. Cum for him”.

You did. Many times, in fact. Steve had you cuming so many times that you’d lost count as a sweet warmth wrapped around your brain, leaving you feeling like you weren’t in your mundane house anymore but amongst the clouds, floating endlessly in pleasure. Your hands had dropped to your side as all of your energy was now being reserved for sucking Bucky’s cock and taking the punishing pace of Steve’s.

Eventually, Steve was the first to cum with a harsh grunt and snap of his hips as heat and thick wetness flooded into your cunt. He remained in place, holding your legs around his waist as his cock began to soften.

Bucky’s chest was now glistening with both sweat and oil as his eyebrows pinched together, his cheeks rosy with a flush as he groaned deeply, “I’m cumming, holy shit-”. You did gag this time as his entire cock bulged into your throat, the whisps of trimmed hair on his pubic mount tickling your nose as he came.

You worked hard to swallow every drop of him down until your lungs were burning for breath, and he gently eased out of your aching jaw. Your mouth tingled as you licked your swollen lips, sure that if you tried to talk now, all that you’d be able to achieve is a dreadful, deep, gravely voice.

Bucky leapt off the couch, disappearing into another direction you were too tired to follow. Thankfully, Steve remained with you as he carefully repositioned the two of you so that he now sat in the middle of the seat and had you sitting in his lap. Your head felt heavy as it lulled against his slipped chest, but you still hummed in contentment as he kissed your forehead sweetly whilst wrapping his strong hands around your shoulders.

“Hey, Sweetheart, I need you to drink some of this; it’ll help your throat”, Bucky encouraged a few moments later as he sat next to the two of you with a mug of steaming hot cocoa. Steve helped lift your head as Bucky held the drink out, tipping it slightly so that you could drink a couple of sips, moaning at the chocolatey sweet taste and the warmth that did soothe your sore throat.

“Well done, just a little more”, Steve whispered against your cheek as he lay delicate kisses against your sensitive skin.

Finally, with the drink gone, Bucky leaned closer to you, giving your lips a much-deserved kiss before pulling away with a cheeky glint in his eye. “So, do you like the outfits? They were Nat’s idea. Pretty sure she meant it as a joke”, he wondered out loud, but your giggle and nod recaptured his attention.

“I loved them”, you whispered with a voice thick with tiredness and evidence from being thoroughly fucked.

“Good, because I can’t wait to see what you’ll look like in the outfit we bought you. We think you’d be the perfect match to be Mrs Clause, but I must admit, there was significantly less material”, Steve explained as his fingers massaged into your still aching legs.

“I can’t wait, but maybe tomorrow”, you admit tiredly, relaxing further into the arms of both of them.

#mafia au #mafia stucky #mafia!stucky #mafia steve rogers #mafia bucky #stucky x reader #stucky smut #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #bucky smut #bucky x reader #marvel smut #mine*#steve rogers #bucky barnes #bucky #stucky

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greatooglymooglyyy · 14 days

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It's Never Over (C. S.)

contains: 2nd person pov, angst, somewhat toxic relationship, verbal argument, relationship issues, kissing, smut (softdom!chris), overstimulation, angry/make up sex, unprotected sex, 3.4k words

a/n: hi friends. this is apart of the triple threat event sooo don't forget to go see my babies @luv4kozume and @rootbeerworshiper for two more fics for your smutty needs. j will be posting in one hour and sienna is an hour after that.

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Maybe we’re too young.

The thought bounces around your head uncontrollably as you watch Chris move silently through the kitchen from your perch on the counter. You haven’t been home long- maybe 10 minutes- but after the day you’ve had, the silence feels like a jab.

“So,” you start, raising your eyebrow as he pulls out a drink and leans against the counter across from you. “How do you think the pictures will turn out?”

He gives you a tired look, seemingly trying to gauge whether your question is a trap. “I actually really fucked with it. It’s a new look for us.”

You two had spent the entire day on the set of a photo and promo shoot for Fresh Love’s new line of products. He was right about it being a new look and he’d gone all out for the launch; the shoot had been completely 90s-themed to match the vibe of the products and he’d recruited some influencers to model.

Not that you were keeping track or anything, but the original idea had been yours and you’d put countless hours in helping him execute it. That isn’t to say you minded at all... at least not until today.

“I’m glad it’s exactly how you envisioned it.” You say, testing the waters unsure if you wanted to raise the issue again.

But Chris takes the bait and groans. “Don’t start.”

“I didn’t even say anything, Chris. But I just don’t understand why my input stops being taken seriously as soon as other people are around.”

“Did you ever stop and consider that maybe my photoshoot wasn’t the place for you to start a random ass argument?”

“I wasn’t trying to start one. And my bad, I didn’t realize you stopped being my boyfriend when you walked on a set.” Your eyes narrow as you stare him down, irritation at the situation resurfacing.

He sighs heavily, running a hand over his face. “I don’t but it’d be cool if my girlfriend supported me on days like this instead of adding more stress.”

Your eyes grow wide and you look around dramatically. “I’m sorry? Is that not all I do? Planning with you. Pitching ideas. Running around finding any little thing I can do to help? You wouldn’t even have the new product ideas without me.”

He throws his hands up in surrender, pushing off the counter and stepping closer. “And I’m grateful, baby. You know I am. I’m not saying you’re not important to me. I’m saying it can’t always be about you.”

“Can it sometimes be about me?” You question, feeling like you’re losing your mind. “I would never have an entire photoshoot full of influencers and not even ask you to join. Do you know how embarrassing that was?”

“Oh my-” He laughs out harshly, turning away for a second and then turning back. “I knew that’s what this was about. The team wanted people with over a million, not me-”

“And who owns Fresh Love, Chris? Don’t act like you have no control.”

“I own it, but it’s not just me who runs it. How stupid would I be if I hired a marketing team and didn't fucking listen to them?” His voice raises slightly and he shakes his head, attempting to regain composure.

“Probably as stupid as I looked pulling up to the set and looking for hair and makeup. You should have told me.” With that you slide off of the counter, intending to let the argument die there and go to bed but he follows behind you.

“How are you mad at me because you assumed you were modeling? I never said that. I invited you to the set like I do every time because You. Are. My. Girlfriend.” He claps to emphasize his points and you spin to glare at him.

“I’m not just your girlfriend, Chris. I work hard on my content just like you.” You say defensively. The decision to even begin posting was his idea so you can’t believe how unsupported you feel.

“And I'm so proud of you. You know I am.” He says with sincerity, bringing a hand to his chest. “But you aren’t..." His sentence trails off and he gives you an uncomfortable look.

“What?” You challenge, knowing exactly where this is going. “Say it. Tell me how little I matter since I haven’t hit the right numbers yet.”

He rolls his eyes and looks up at the ceiling. “It’s business. And they asked for people with reach. What did you want me to do?”

“Fight for me, Chris. That’s what I expected you to do.” You turn and head over to your dresser, snatching out your favorite oversized t-shirt and changing quickly.

Chris leans against the door frame with his arms crossed, watching you intensely until you finally face him with a scowl. “Stop following me.”

“I just can’t believe this is how you want to end this night. Why can’t you celebrate this win with me?” He asks, annoyance coating his tone.

“Go celebrate with Brooke. You two looked comfy today.” You suggest as you pass him to head into the bathroom.

Behind you, he barks out a laugh of disbelief before whispering something under his breath. You don’t even bother asking him to speak up, grabbing your makeup remover instead.

“So what’s that supposed to mean, huh? You're gonna start throwing accusations at me now?” He sounds absolutely over the conversation but won’t walk away to cool off. It’s a flaw you have in common.

“Just saying Addison has twice the followers as her but somehow you put her centerstage. I mean, I thought this was a numbers game.” You say, refusing to look over at him as you lather your face wash.

If you’re being completely honest, it’s not like you actually believe Chris would ever cheat on you. One thing Chris has always been is loyal to a fault. But right now you're itching for a reaction. No matter how you have to get it.

“You have to be fucking kidding.” He says, reacting exactly like you expected him to. “When the fuck would I be cheating on you?”

“How am I supposed to know? People make time for what’s important to them.” You say, letting your voice take on a nonchalant tone as you pat your face dry.

“That’s so fucking stupid and you know it. Look, I’m sorry you’re not where you want to be in your career but don’t take it out on me.” He grinds out, his voice thick with distaste.

You spin to face him, your eyebrows high. There it is. At least he finally said it. “Wow, Chris. Tell me how you really feel.”

“Y/N.” He says, rubbing his eyes roughly. “You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Do you think I could buy a shoutout, Mr. Six Mill? Only if you have time, of course.” You drawl, pressing your hands together into a begging gesture.

“Tell me what you want to hear, baby. Tell me what I need to say to end this conversation.” He says, stepping toward you but you take a step back instead, leaning against the sink.

“How about an apology? How about recognizing that I worked hard on this launch too and deserved to be a part of it? Anything except this condescending bullshit.”

He drops to his knees dramatically, looking up at you with a faux pleading look on his face. “I’m so sorry, ma’am. Please forgive me.”

You shake your head and curl your lip up in disgust. “Yeah. ‘Cause everything’s a joke, right?”

Chris blows out a huff of irritation and stands up, reaching out to wrap his arms around you and spinning you around to face the mirror. He presses himself into your back and meets your eye in the reflection as he runs his hands up and down your body. “Aren’t you tired of arguing yet?”

Your gaze drops to his hands, watching as he slowly and methodically slides up your oversized t-shirt and rubs teasingly at your inner thighs.

"You know I love you." He whispers, his grip tightening as he trails higher, grazing your heat before dipping his hands back down.

“Do you?” You question childishly, heat flooding your body as his hands travel your skin. He leans in close, the cool breath of his words sending a shiver down your spine. “Let me prove how much.”

Part of you wants to snatch away from him and refuse to reward his arrogance. But there is something so erotic about the way his eyes stay locked on yours as he moves in closer to where you need him most. Without your permission your body melts into his, the muscle memory from every other time he’s made you feel this way activating naturally.

You turn your head to look at him full-on instead of the reflection, the slight flush on his face from the arguing turning you on even more. “Nah. Prove how much you need me.”

If Chris is at all surprised by your demand, he doesn’t show it. He just walks you closer to the sink and spins you around by the waist to face him. His blue eyes are so coated with lust and frustration they seem almost brown under the harsh bathroom lighting.

He lifts you onto the counter, pausing only for the barest of seconds before crashing his lips against yours. The sudden movement pushes the back of your head into the mirror but you barely feel it over the heat and pressure of his kiss.

His hand travels under your shirt, his fingertips grazing your nipple with a frustratingly delicate touch that has you groaning into his mouth. You pull away, drawing a shudder out of him when you lightly nip his bottom lip as you do.

“Stop wasting my time.” You demand, your hands fiddling with the bottom of his shirt in a hint for him to take it off.

He does with a roll of his eyes before he comes back, placing a firm hand on the back of your neck and bringing you closer. “You can drop the attitude now. You know you want this just as much as I do.”

Pain flashes through you again briefly as you consider the possibility that this is the only thing you two will ever agree on wanting but you push it down and lean in to run a tongue over his collarbone. “Shut up and prove it like you said you would.”

A smirk grows across his face before he nods and kneels down slowly, pushing open your legs and roughly snatching off your thin underwear. Pushing your legs open wider, he buries his face in your inner thighs and peppers lingering kisses on them as he trails closer to your heat.

When he finally reaches it, it’s clear he’s not done taking his time as he runs his tongue through your folds purposefully avoiding where you want him most. You push at his shoulders in annoyance and he chuckles darkly, only making your wetness grow despite yourself.

The first kiss he places on your clit is slow and shallow before he leans back to find your eyes. “I always forget how fucking pretty you are.” He says as he smooths a thumb over you before diving back in with a new urgency.

There’s reverence in the way his tongue circles your clit, the movements somehow both precise and desperate. Before you even realize what you’re doing, you find yourself grinding your hips up to chase your pleasure, pathetic whimpers falling from your lips.

You don’t need to glance down to feel his eyes on you, baby blue and laser-focused as he peers up to gauge your reaction, alternating expertly between sucking and flicking his tongue. But instead of giving him the reaction he wants, you press your fist into your mouth and work to keep your face a mask. You’re determined to grant him as little praise as possible, leftover anger spurring on your pettiness.

Smiling against your core at the challenge, he readjusts his hold on you, slinging one of your legs lazily onto his shoulder before locking his arms around your thighs to keep you still. He pulls fully away and you finally snap your eyes to his, a protest on the tip of your tongue.

“I can do this all night and still make sure you never come. Stop playing with me.” His voice is like velvet as he warns you, not even pausing for your response before he buries himself back in. He taps your leg, signaling for you to hold it before he readjusts to add his fingers, swirling them around teasingly before pumping them inside to stretch you out.

All of your pride flies out the window as he fucks into you with his fingers, finding your g spot easily and caressing it. Flinging your head from side to side and calling his name wildly, you feel a familiar pressure building inside of you. “Please, Chris.” You beg as you tangle your hands into his hair.

His pace only increases when he realizes you are close, his moans against your clit sending vibrations through your body and driving you even crazier. You tug his hair lightly as your body tightens and grind your hips against his fingers to ride out your orgasm.

Chris pauses and removes his fingers slowly before placing one last kiss on your throbbing heat. He comes up with his breathing unsteady and a look of pure triumph on his face as he sucks his fingers into his mouth.

Your legs are still trembling slightly as you slide off of the counter and pull his face down to yours. This kiss feels different, like coming home, and you can tell he feels the same. He kisses you back like he loves you like the taste of you is air and he’s suffocating.

It’s been a while since you two were desperate enough to leave marks on each other’s skin but he does tonight. And you let him without a single thought to the effort of covering them up, too focused on his tongue working over the sweet spots of your neck.

You reach down fumbling with his belt impatiently as your breathing goes ragged, and free his hardened length, stroking it slowly.

His lips freeze on your throat as he thrusts into your hand before he yanks away and spins you back around, pressing his palm into your back and kicking your feet apart to give him access.

You feel his tip nudge against your entrance, slipping down further to tease your clit briefly, your only warning before he slides inside of you. A cry tears out of you as he rolls his hips into yours, bottoming out.

You’re still soaked from your orgasm but as he stretches you out around him, you feel yourself coat him even more and he groans. “My pretty girl. Best fucking feeling in the world.” He pushes your shirt further up your back, his fingertips trailing your spine lightly as he continues to thrust into you.

Squirming with a need for him to go faster, you push your hips up to meet his, forcing him deeper and making you both curse. He takes the hint, wrapping his hand tightly around your shirt for leverage before setting a brutal rough pace.

Your vision starts to blur so you close them as you try to hold on to the counter for stability. With your eyes squeezed tightly closed, it’s almost easy to pretend the tears swelling up are from the intensity of the moment and not from everything that came before.

Because it’s nothing if not intense, your stomach pressing into the sink as he slams inside of you roughly. His free hand grips the counter so hard his knuckles turn white and he keeps up his insane pace. His name slips from your mouth as a moan, seeming to spur him on as he increases his tempo even more.

“That’s right, baby. What’s my name?” The sound of his voice barely breaks through your fucked out trance and you lift your head to see him through the mirror.

The sight of him almost pushes you right over the edge immediately and you watch him in a sort of fascination. The way his muscles strain with his movement, his slightly open mouth before he bites down on his bottom lip. But it’s the wink he throws you when he notices you watching that has you contracting around him for the second time tonight.

This orgasm tears through you like a wave and you lose all control as Chris fucks you through it, never missing a stroke. If you had it in you to be embarrassed right now, you would be mortified at the things you say at this moment. Making promises, calling him names you never thought you’d utter, telling him exactly who you belong to.

When you come down, Chris’ pace slows and he pulls you up to face him. He watches you tenderly before he lifts the shirt from over your head and kisses you deeply.

He leads you to your bedroom and lays you down at the center of the bed, climbing on top of you slowly.

He enters you again with a gasp and you bring your mouth up to his to swallow it, his hand traveling up to lightly circle your neck. You moan in contentment and he makes a sound of approval from the back of his throat as he begins to thrust.

His strokes are slow and as deep as he can make them, his hands roaming your body as his tongue explores your mouth. There’s emotion laced in every snap of his hip and you know him well enough to understand every message. I love you. I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.

Pleasure coils around you as his thumb finds your clit and circles it, coaxing you closer to the finish line as he drops his head near your ear. His hips stuttering tell you he’s close and you bring your mouth up to his ear to whisper. “Come for me.”

He groans loudly in response, fighting not to lose control yet. “You first.”

“I already did!”

“I don’t care. Give me one more.”

At his words, he pulls himself up and angles himself deeper, finding your g spot and plowing into it mercilessly. You drag your nails down his back, yours arching up off the bed. “Chris, I can’t.”

He shushes you softly, his lips claiming yours again as he continues to push into you. Ultimately it’s his muffled moan of “fuck” against your mouth that sends you over the edge, your face screwed up from an erotic mix of ecstasy and exhaustion.

You know you can’t take much more but Chris follows right behind you, dropping his head on your shoulder and moaning your name into it.

You lay there breathing heavily, skin to skin, for a while before you tap his back and he slides out of you. Awkwardness settles between you, so thick you’re not sure what to do with it so you stand wordlessly and head for a shower.

Your thoughts race as you scrub the remnants of him off your skin. The words you threw back and forth play on repeat in your brain as you wonder how to fix what’s between you before it’s too late.

The bathroom door opens and you watch through the streamy glass as Chris settles on the counter. The same counter he had you bent over not long ago.

You step out of the shower and grab your robe, all the while avoiding his eye contact. This is the part you hate the most. The part that never ends. Because neither of you knows how to force it to end.

He clears his throat, gesturing for you to come to him when you finally meet his eyes. Once you are standing between his legs, he pushes your wet hair out of your face gently as he studies your face. “You know how much you mean to me, don’t you?”

The nod you give is reluctant and slow. It’s never been a question of if Chris loves you. Just a question of whether he appreciates you.

But he continues this time, his eyes holding a fierce sort of intensity. “I’d give this all up for us if I had to. My whole platform if it means I can wake up next to you.”

Your breath hitches at this and you feel the tears threatening to fall so you bury your face in his shoulder, letting him pull your body into his.

And you hope. Hope that his words are more than just words. Hope that you’re not too young to keep each other from slipping between your fingers.

A/N: thanks so much for reading my loves. don't forget to head over to my girl @luv4kozume's page in exactly one hour for her new matt smut. 🗣️

🏷️/ @sttzee @tillies33ssss @miloisdone1 @sstvrnioloo @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @mrsmiagreer @asturniolos @teapartyprincess4two @whicked-hazlatwhore @sukiipjs @fratbrochrisgf @sturniolosmind @imfromthediningtable @st4rswrld @thvvluvr @sturnssmuts @littlenerdybee @sturniolossss @iloveneilperry @eclipzw @chrissloverrrrrrr16 @sstvrnioloo @clemlament @maryx2xx @fwskullz

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lovelybrooke · 3 months

Note

I saw your post for Hazbin Part 3 ideas so I’d like to help!

Idea one: Immortal reader(that’s what I’m calling them) “dies” again and goes back to hell.

Ideas two: Charlie and the others hesitantly get Lucifer to help and Lucifer also becomes a platonic Yandere? (I swear this man needs another daughter and the fact that immortal reader doesn’t have a dad)

Idea three: this one ties into the second idea. Charlie and the others get Lucifer and they all go up to earth only to see immortal reader going about there life. Oooo what if Lucifer recognizes them? Like back when they “died” as a kid they met Lucifer but immortal reader doesn’t remember because they were a kid?

Idea four: What if immortal reader finds out about them not being able to die? That there mom or someone tells them about an curse being places or a spell gone wrong causing them to be immortal. What if every time they died they get a scar reflecting that specific death?

This was all I could come up with at the moment but if you need more I can give more!

I've been thinking a lot about idea two and three because I do want to include Lucifer because I remember when I first saw him in like some art somewhere and was like "oh he gonna be so evil and scary" and in reality he's just a sad dad, which I love.

Imagine reader still being in hell when Lucifer shows, and with all the talk about fathers, reader reveals they never knew their dad.

(little blurb below the cut)

"Wait--really?" Charlie frowns at the declaration, her father sharing a similar look. You just spent the last two minutes listening to Lucifer, Charlie's dad, argue with Alastor about god knows what. When Charlie told you her dad was coming over, you imagined him, the supposed ruler of hell, to be more scary. You definitely did not expect him to be the way he was now, almost like a wet cat. Though you couldn't doubt that he cared about Charlie.

Eventually, you even got pulled into the argument, with Lucifer demanding you to pick who the better father was. You didn't want to cause an even bigger argument, so you simply said that you couldn't pick since you don't really have a point of reference, which ultimately led you to where you are now.

You shrug "Yeah, I mean I've seen pictures but that's about it." You say blankly. It never really bothered you since he was never in your life. Your mother didn't really talk about him either, other than when she was drunk, and those were all just insults. There was a time where he called the house looking for your mom, sounding angry. You got scared and hung up before you could say anything. You never told your mom he called.

Angel lets out a low chuckle from his seat at the bar "wow--just another thing to make you sad." You didn't know if that was a joke or not, but for some reason he looked upset.

You couldn't focus on that for long though, since Charlie was rushing up and giving you a big hug "Oh I'm so sorry--Dad! You can't just ask questions like that!" She reprimanded him.

"It's not that big of a deal..." You said, subtly trying to push her away.

"Of course it is--I wouldn't have brought him here if I knew--"

"Charlie, I don't care, I promise." You say, more firmly this time. Finally, she let you go, though the solemn look didn't leave her face. Looking over, Lucifer matched the look on her daughter's face. Alastor however, was smiling wide, like always, though you could see his look become softer when directed at you.

Maybe it was all in your head though.

#yandere x reader #soft yandere #platonic yandere #platonic yandere hazbin hotel #yandere hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel

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almightyellie · 1 month

Text

i'm not in love

in which angus always preferred being alone. at least, he used to.

pairing is angus tully x fem!reader

word count is 3.4k

author says don't look at me <3 not proofread bc it's me

you should watch out for college-aged angus, mostly just two besties who are so in love it makes them stupid

title song is i'm not in love // 10cc

angus tully answers his mother’s biweekly calls diligently. not because either of them truly want to speak to each other—it’s more perfunctory than anything. she calls and asks about school, and he tells her it’s good. then he asks about stanley, and she tells him about stanley’s job, and then she’ll ask angus about his job. he tells her it’s fine, and she offers him money that he’ll accept only if he’s in a particularly foul mood. after three years, they almost have it down to a perfect script.

at least, he thought they did.

“how’s y/n?”

the question catches him so off-guard that his sharp intake of breath makes him choke, but judy waits patiently for an answer. he mentioned you every once in a while. mostly, he likes that you’re an entirely separate part of his life from his mother and stanley. he’ll bring you up if she asks why he isn’t coming home on a holiday, or on the off-chance she asks about his weekend plans. yours is one of the only names he’s ever given her when he talks about school, and one of the only ones that seems to stick around longer than a few months at a time. “she’s…good,” he responds tentatively.

“what are you guys doing tonight?”

he stares at his phone in bemusement. “what is this?”

she sighs, and he can almost see that displeased look on her face. he had it memorized. “when are we going to meet her?”

“why do you want to meet her?” he asks. if he really thinks about it, it makes sense. you two had lived across from one another for three years, and you had fallen together in a way that almost felt predetermined. you are the longest standing person in his life post-high school, and his mother knows this.

he had always preferred being alone. even as a child, he had no interest in playing with the neighborhood kids in the middle of the street. he liked doing things by himself. he liked doing what he wanted without having to inform anyone else. when he had gone to college and found a semi-affordable apartment that he wouldn’t have to share, he had been elated. the cute girl across the hall had just been a plus.

you two had always just worked. he holds everyone at arm's length, but it had never even occurred to him to shut you out. you two end up together most nights, watching movies or doing homework. it happens so easily that he hardly recognizes how strange it is. perpetual wallflower angus tully is attached.

“well, you two have been together for a while. if things are serious, i think it’s best that we meet her.”

angus blinks, shocked, before a nervous laugh bubbles up in his chest. it starts low, but the longer she waits in her own confused silence, the louder and more unruly his laughter becomes. he’s laughing—not because the idea is ridiculous, but because it’s so plausible that it takes him by surprise. he had spent the last two years trying to bury his feelings for you, and he had been so unsuccessful that even his mother had picked up on it.

“angus,” she snaps, and he giggles, even though it isn’t funny, even though his stomach twists and rolls in a way that makes him feel sick.

“i’m sorry,” he gasps, covering his eyes. “just…we—y/n and i aren’t together.”

there’s a long moment of silence where he catches his breath before his mom says, “angus, that’s not funny.”

“well, it is, if you think about it really hard,” he offers. she sighs, exasperated, and angus rubs his eyes. he can’t possibly explain to his mother what about this situation is truly amusing, because really, it isn’t funny. it’s not funny that he’s desperately in love with his best friend, and it’s not funny that she oscillates between entirely oblivious and seemingly aware.

“you’re telling me you’ve been missing family holidays for a girl you aren’t dating?”

he can tell she doesn’t believe him, and he doesn’t bother reminding her that they haven’t had a real family holiday in years. long before he started university, and long before he met you. besides, answering that question honestly is dangerous, and should he not handle this delicately, he’ll find himself on the wrong side of his mother’s wrath.

“uh…”

he’s fumbling, panicking, and it only gets worse when he hears his front door open. “angus?” you call, and his whole body cringes, his head falling to rest on the wall.

“angus,” judy warns.

“yeah,” he blurts, watching you round the corner. you smile, offering only a small wave as you drop your bag onto his kitchen table. “no, mom, obviously not. that would be ridiculous.”

as he feels her anxiety cease, his own skyrockets. he’s focused entirely on you; your back is turned toward him as you open his fridge, searching through the shelves for something to eat. if it were anyone else, he’d be irritated, but he almost loves it when you do it. loves that you feel comfortable enough in his home to make yourself feel at home, that he can take care of you in the smallest way. most nights, when he lies in bed and thinks of you, he finds himself thinking of the ways he could take care of you. the ways he could give you what he never had, the things that had been ripped from him. security. unconditional affection. peace. he’s barely listening when his mother sighs again. “you know, i don’t understand your humor sometimes.”

“i know,” he says. you kick the fridge closed, enough food in your hands to feed both of you. “hey, she actually just got here. can i let you go?”

“not until you answer my question.” her voice is clipped now, and angus winces. some nights she’s a little more forgiving with his distraction, a little more responsive to the things he says that she doesn’t necessarily understand. tonight, he’s more distracted than usual and less decipherable than ever. “when can we meet her?”

angus groans, and you smile over your shoulder. you know better than anyone how much he struggles with his mother. you’ve listened in on many of their phone calls, and patiently listened to him complain about them later. “i don’t know, mom.”

“how about easter?” she asks. angus turns to lean against the wall and watch you, and you lean against the counter, waiting for him to be done. he rolls his eyes, a silent cue that things are taking longer than he’d like. “stanley and i can drive up that saturday and take you guys out for a nice dinner. on us.”

reluctantly, only because he knows that she’ll blow a gasket if they don’t nail down plans on this phone call, and because he wants this to be over, he huffs. he pulls the receiver away slightly and asks, “you want to have dinner with my mom and stanley easter weekend?”

you blink owlishly. “what? why?”

“they want to meet you.”

“why?” you insist. he glares at you impatiently; knowing angus—more, knowing what you know about his mother—an answer is needed now, and explanation must come later. the idea of meeting his mom makes your stomach turn uncomfortably, but there he stands. even with a hard glare, you feel safe with him. you feel the need to do what he asks of you, and you know him well enough to know that he wouldn’t ask if he thought it would be something you couldn’t handle. “uh…i guess, yeah.”

he offers a grateful smile. “easter weekend sounds great, mom.”

they quickly finalize plans before hanging up, and the second the receiver is back on hook, he groans loudly, rubbing his eyes. you wait for him to speak, but he stands with his hands over his eyes, hiding from you. “angus.”

“she thinks you’re my girlfriend,” he blurts.

you really don’t mean to start laughing. “what?”

his lips turn up in a sheepish smile. “i guess they’ve thought we were together this entire time,” he chuckles. “and i panicked! she accused me missing holidays to spend time with you and i didn’t want to get in trouble—”

you clutch your stomach, doubled over in laughter. he doesn’t want to laugh—frankly, he’s a little hurt that you find the idea so laughable, but he had laughed, too. “you caved,” you gasp. “you caved and told a lie because you didn’t want to get in trouble with your mommy.”

“okay.” he rolls his eyes. “whatever. you’re part of this now, too.”

your giggles die down and you turn to take the food out of the microwave. “hey, i could back out. i could break up with you at any time.”

he scoffs, but doesn’t respond. often enough, when you’re doing exactly what you’re doing now, angus’ feelings become overwhelming. watching you move around his kitchen with the kind of natural domesticity makes him feel choked, buried under his overflowing affection.

the harder he fights his feelings, the worse they get. you’re his best friend—it’s not on purpose, either; you aren’t at all the kind of person he ever thought he would fall for. you were bitingly funny, of course, but you fought him constantly. he wouldn’t even say you were particularly nice for the first few months you two knew one another. you’re entirely out of left field, and he can’t even get a read on you half the time—not that he even really wants to. part of him thinks that knowing exactly what you think about him would be truly crushing.

“i guess a free meal could be nice,” you tease, stirring your dinner with a knowing smile.

“yeah, you’re so unused to those,” he bites, pushing himself off the wall. you beam.

it’s surprising, in a way, that you hadn’t met angus’ mom and stepfather already. he’s met your family a thousand times over; they take you both out to dinner every single time they visit you. they had sent him a birthday gift this year, for christ’s sake. but you could probably count the amount of time angus had seen his mother in the last three years on both hands. you were surprised enough that she even remembered your name.

you had spent your entire friendship with angus thinking about his mother. being angry with her. your best friend is caring, in his own stilted, modest way. he’s witty and so smart that it intimidates you, and he’s loyal. it tells you all you need to know that his relationship with his mother isn’t strong.

he bumps you out of the way, and you let him. you watch him open the cupboard for plates to evenly split the leftover pasta, and your chest nearly heaves with confused affection. you see the way he looks at you when he’s not careful. with an unrestrained reverence, with a tenderness that can’t be forced. it had made you uncomfortable, at first. made you feel like you couldn’t be around him anymore. you had tried to pull away—for a day or two.

the reality of the entire situation is that angus tully belongs in your life. you adore him too much to cut him out, and even if you didn’t, it kills you to think of him alone. he’s a lone wolf; it’s amazing enough that you two have connected the way that you have. if angus didn’t have you, he had a few friends from class. maybe two or three guys from work. but nothing as deep, nothing as serendipitous as your friendship.

discomfort with his feelings had grown into a tentative acceptance once you realized he had no plans on acting on them, and after a few months, tentative acceptance had grown into…something else entirely. you aren’t sure exactly what it is. it isn’t like those juvenile, giddy crushes you had harbored in high school. angus doesn’t keep you up at night, nor does he make you lovesick. he puts you at ease. he makes you feel safe. he makes you feel like yourself.

you don’t want to confront the strange sense of peace that angus has offered you without even knowing. without even trying. you don’t want to change your friendship, or misattribute your feelings, so you ignore them. and you ignore the way he looks at you, and how he insists on making your favorite dinners, even though he complains about you eating his leftovers, and how he uses your spare key to lock your door every single time he leaves your apartment without fail.

your knees bump together under the tiny table in his kitchen as you two eat dinner. you listen to him talk about his coworkers, lulled into relaxation by his deep voice; you always loved your dinnertime conversations. mostly, one of you just talked. you would talk about school and work and your classmates and your days; they aren’t even really conversations. it’s just an excuse to talk and an opportunity to listen. he doesn’t mind when you don’t respond, and neither of you care if the other person talks the entire time. it’s time spent together more than anything else. you think about how effortless it feels. how you could do this every night with intention, not under the guise of getting out of your apartment. you think about the dinner with his mom, and how you’ll both put on nice outfits to go out, and how you’ll come home together, and how you’ll dissect every detail of the dinner and the conversations for the entire night, if not for days afterwards.

you notice only a moment too late that you’ve zoned out, and angus kicks your shin gently. “you good?”

with a reassuring smile, you nod. “yeah. i’m just thinking about dinner with your mom.”

he’s bashful when he laughs quietly. “yeah…sorry. i know i kind of screwed you over.” you can tell that he truly does feel bad, but the longer you think about it, the less you dread it. you think you might actually like an excuse to acknowledge the way angus looks at you, for him to not have to hide it.

“i don’t know…i’m kind of excited,” you admit, pushing food around your plate. angus looks at you from under his lashes, taking pause at your tone. you refuse to look at him, and it sends his heart into overdrive; he’s panicked, certainly, and so in love with you that it makes him nauseous. he isn’t entirely sure that he’ll survive a night of you pretending. of it all feeling so real.

he can feel a confession coming, bubbling up in his chest, and he swallows in panic. “she’s—she’ll like you, i think.”

with a slight smile, you push your plate away from you. “i’m not sure i’ll like her.”

which he loves about you, naturally.

he clears his throat to bury the confession and stands; angus grabs both plates and turns his back to you to hide his flushed cheeks. shamelessly, since he can’t see you, you watch him, soothed simply by the way he moves. by how familiar he is. by how you can almost predict every move he makes. the words fall out before you’re even cognizant of them

“just so you know, i don’t mind your mom thinking i’m your girlfriend.”

the way he freezes makes your shoulders tense. you hadn’t meant to say that. it was true, but he didn’t need to know that. angus’ mind screeches to a full stop before it starts running ten times faster than before. what did that mean?

slowly—so slowly that you almost don’t notice—he sets the plates in the sink. you won’t get out of this. you know you won’t, because you know angus. once the door is open, he’ll take the opportunity to push it every single time. “why?” he asks, his voice a carefully constructed tone of ease. he plays it well; his nonchalance is almost perfectly natural. it nearly tricks you.

still kicking yourself, you shrug even though he can’t see you. instead, you start emptying your bag to distract yourself. textbooks and notebooks and pencils clatter against the table. “just…we could sell it, don’t you think?” it’s not even close to what he wants to hear, and you buckle down even though you know you won’t win this one. “we know everything about each other.”

he snorts, and it puts you at ease. not because you’re going to get out of this. you know something dangerous is going to come out of this conversation, but because it’s angus. it’s your best friend. and you know him, and you know the way he treats you is symptomatic of something much larger. it used to scare you, but it doesn’t now. not now that he washes your dishes, the sleeves of his sweater pushed up to his elbows. you trust him. you know that any vulnerability you share will be returned to you tenfold.

“yeah, right. that just makes it convenient,” he says knowingly, head tilting. he watches you sort through your textbooks, hiding your anxiety while you busy yourself.

part of you hopes that he’ll just drop it. not because you don’t think things will work out, but because you love how things are between the two of you. the almosts, the what-ifs, the wondering is something you so love to savor. it’s still so easy between you two; all of those what-ifs still exist only in your minds, only in the silent space between you that neither of you are willing to acknowledge. there’s plausible deniability. there’s safety.

you smile shakily, glancing up at him. “i guess i mean…that we…work?”

he smiles back, comforting but still audacious. “and by that, you mean…”

with a groan, you fold your arms and bury your face in them. you know this leap can only be beneficial, but you’re struggling to let yourself admit anything. it’s more frustrating than the denial.

angus stares at you, suddenly the emotionally constipated one, and his heart is pounding in his ears. he can feel it beating against his chest; he’s not brave enough to hope. it’s too scary for him to wonder if this is finally it, if you had been as keenly aware as he had assumed you to be.

“just…i think there’s a reason my mom thinks we’re together. just so you know.” you groan louder, unmoved by his words, and he continues, “beyond the fact that we’re constantly together.”

you peek up at him, your chin still pressed against your forearms. he watches you, big brown eyes wide open with vulnerability. he’s waiting. you figure it’s as good of a segue as he’s going to give you. with a deep breath, ignoring the turning and rolling of your stomach, you say, “i feel like…things could be like that between us.”

he breaks into a smile so wide that you have to look away from him. “oh, is that what this is about?” he asks facetiously.

you grunt, irritated. “don’t tease me.”

he laughs, uncrossing his arms. you don’t even want to look at him, humiliated. he hasn’t rejected you—in fact, you know he’s just keeping you on the line to tease you. it irritates you, but he seems giddy, even if he tries to act like he’s unaffected. he can’t keep that goofy smile off his face. it entirely gives him away. “hey,” he says, voice bright. “c’mere.”

“no,” you spit, annoyed. you know that the second you give in, everything will change. for the better, you think, but it will change. you hold on to the wondering for just a moment longer, but you can’t help yourself. he waits patiently at the counter, holding on to the ledge. you like the wondering, but you think you’re ready to find out if it’s as good as it seems it would be.

self-conscious, you cross the room to him. you stand only centimeters apart, and he grins at you, fingers gently stroking the hem of your collar. “you know, right?”

you don’t have to ask what he means. you know. maybe not the depths, but you know. the way he looks at you is enough to let you know. the way he takes care of you tells you what his words haven’t yet. they will. “you can’t hide from me, angus tully.”

he loves that about you, too. he’ll tell you all the specifics later. for now, he kisses you, a long arm around your waist, and you think that this is much better than the what-ifs.

#angus tully #angus tully imagine #angus tully x reader

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storiesbysoup · 1 year

Text

Rough Fingers, Gentle Kisses.

lieutenant simon “ghost” riley x fem!reader. 4.6k word count warnings: NSFW CONTENT -- 18+ ONLY. [p in v sex, no condom, creampie, oral - female receiving, minor overstim, praising.], gun descriptions, extra: reader is not a soldier and this is extremely self-indulgent. I’m sorry. MASTERLIST

NSFW POST!

SYNOPSIS: Simon is out on a mission for over a month with radio-silence. You’ve never gone this long without hearing him. Is he okay? Did he finally encapsulate his codename?

To believe that Simon Riley, Lieutenant Ghost, was big and scary wasn’t an understatement. The man was well over six foot, had a thick build, and spoke with a voice so overwhelming and deep that it nearly shook wherever he spoke. Alongside this, he wore that fucking mask. The one that hid who he really was -- the one that kept Simon Riley and Ghost separate.

A piece of you questioned why he trusted you. It was bizarre, honestly. Ghost trusted no one -- he barely even trusted his own teammates. Yet, you were the one he trusted most. He cared for you more than you’d ever know.

While Ghost was known to his teammates, Simon was hidden for you. Certain nights were Simon nights. He would let you take off the mask at whatever pace you wanted, would let you be as gentle as you wanted with him. It didn’t matter. He was with you -- he was home.

Ghost truly never stayed for long. He wanted to stay, to let you sit in his arms as you simply breathed. Watching as your chest expanded and deflated, your head curled into his thick chest.

He could stay there forever.

This latest mission that Task Force 141 had been sent on was infuriating him by the second. Every single day, it seemed like the mission went on for longer and longer. It started as two weeks, then three, then a month. Ghost was on the verge of simply putting his foot down and refusing.

Price pressed his hands onto the table, smoothing out the map. “Al’ight,” His heavy British accent came through somewhat muffled due to the cigar that hung from his lips. “Ghost ‘nd Soap will push through ‘ere. Gaz ‘n I’ll go ‘ere. Get the info, get out. Simple?”

A silent yet unanimous ‘yes sir’ filled the room as the men glanced between each other. They were trying to get info on an unnamed target, at least unnamed to Ghost himself. He doubted Price knew, but it was unimportant.

The gun in his hands was heavy, a Remington ACR with an ACOG scope -- not too heavy or complex, but well-enough to be easily carried as he ran. It sat well against his chest, despite the extra items strapped to him. His eyes dashed down, double-checking the ammo he had stored.

His pistol, a basic M9, rested in a holster against his chest. The noise it made as it clashed against his ACR practically made him grit his teeth: too loud. Too much noise that could potentially get him caught. Brown eyes hidden behind the skull mask dashed to Soap.

The Scot was loud outside of work, but when they were on deployment, Ghost swore he was an entirely different man. It practically made a laugh erupt from him whenever he saw it.

All he wanted was to be done with this fucking mission and go home, be with you -- he nearly cried the other night because he wanted to hear your voice. It was uncharacteristic of him to crave anothers presence but here he was.

“Ghost, how copy?”

Price’s heavy voice came clear through the headphones on his head, quickly turning his mic on and responding. “Clear. Moving forward.” Ghost looked towards Soap, nodding quietly. That was why they worked so well together -- not a word needed to be said for them to have a full conversation.

He promised you that he’d introduce you to Soap one day. In his eyes, if the two of you got along, everything would start to turn up his way. A premature hope, but one that he stuck by.

Quickly and silent as possible, Ghost did what he did best: knifework. Making dead weight of two soldiers, he stepped towards the desk covered in paperwork. A gloved hand passed over the documents until he stopped on one.

Y/N L/N. PARTNER OF #####. LOCATION UNKNOWN.

His heart dropped to his stomach. Were they tracking you? Why were they tracking you? He bit at his bottom lip, curiosity plaguing his mind as his eyes darted across the pages.

A small piece of him hoped you were safe at home. Safe in the home he created. Ghost sighed, feeling Soap’s hand against his shoulder. Right, the mission.

He shook his head. “Nuthin’. Left already, ‘spose.” Soap’s brow furrowed as he grumbled under his breath, too quiet for Ghost to understand. The Brit’s eyes left his friend to look back towards the doorway. A hand was ghosting over his pistol, fingers flexing as anxiety began to prickle.

When Prices voice came through on his headset, he let out a breath. They were clear to leave. They were going home. Not just to base, but off deployment for at least a week.

Soap and Ghost clasped their hands together, a grin on the Scots face as he nodded. “We did it, L.T.” Ghost shook his head, grumbling. “Just a simple mission, Johnny. Don’t twist your panties.”

As Ghost finished his mission, you sat at home afraid. Simon was never radio silent with you, he tried to contact you as soon as he could as often as possible. It’d been two weeks. You were scared that he died.

No, Ghost didn’t die. You knew that well enough -- he’d ensured it to you. A hand crept itself up to your neck where a copy of his dog tags sat. He’d given them to you one night after your version of a welcome-home session.

Chest heaving, Simon rolled onto his back next to you. His dog tags sat against his slick chest, stuck due to the sweat that had accumulated. A silent ‘I love you’ was said as you both laid there, exhausted.

A few moments later, you rolled over and laid your head on his chest. It helped calm you, his heartbeat: it was slow and methodical. Not too fast, not too slow, just right.

Your hand had absentmindedly gone up to trace his tags, letting your fingers delicately tracing the wording on them. A smile crested your face, eyes swollen with exhaustion as your cheek pressed against his chest.

Simon chuckled softly, hand tracing your frame as he listened to your soft breaths. “Enjoyin’ yourself there, princess?” Giggles filled the hot room as you buried your face within your large lovers upper body. His hand clenched around your side, keeping you close by his side.

“I’ll make you a pair, pet. It’ll be a way for me to be wit’cha while I’m on deployment.”

The frown that overtook your smile made his heart cry. He didn’t like seeing you sad or hurt. Made him feel like he’d done bad as a partner, as a boyfriend. “Hey, hey -- you know I hate it too. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Ghosts can’t die, remember?”

You snorted, gently thwacking him in the side as you giggled. He loved your laugh, your smile -- he loved you. It wasn’t an emotion he was used to, but you helped him understand it somewhat better.

Here, now a month later, you sat on the bed you shared with Simon with your hand clenching the tags tightly. Tear-stained cheeks and loud sniffles filled the silence of your home. Right now, the worst of the worst came to mind. To you, Simon had died. Ghost had died.

Memories of him flooded your mind. The first time you met -- it was a funny story, actually. You’d been out in a local grocery shop, getting the monthly items you needed to stock up the apartment you rented.

While walking, you were roughly shouldered out of the way, your balance quickly faltering and colliding with the hard cold flooring. Ghost had picked up your belongings and helped you up, offering you a hand as his other held your basket.

His eyes were difficult to understand, but not impossible. Warm, deep brown that reminded you of elderly trees felt more comforting in that moment than anything else you’d ever known. A soft thank you fell from your lips, admiring the way his facial shape appeared. It was difficult to understand what he look like due to the skull-jaw mask he wore.

Ghost had decided to help you with your shopping, something appealing to a lurking sense of emotion in his cold heart. You learned his name during that encounter, and soon after got his phone number. Simon Riley, the Ghost. A silly nickname that you didn’t understand until later, but one that you adored no matter what.

You wiped at your face with the shirt you wore, one of Simons by chance, as you tried to silence your crying. Mouth dry, nose stuffed -- everything felt icky. A solemn look across the room only worsened your mood.

His clothes were strewn about, left the same since he’d left so you could at least harbor a bit of normality while your lover was gone. Simon was always a tidy person, or at least he tried to. When he would be home for breaks, he’d often scold you for how messy the house had gotten.

The blue-white illumination from your phone caught your attention. Heart pounding in your ears, worry clouding your gaze. What if that was Price, alerting you that something had happened to him? You didn’t know if you could stand to have the confirmation of your worst fears.

You wiped away your tears and turned your phone face-down. It’d be a few moments before you could even manage courage to actually look at whatever the notification was. It could’ve been a normal notification -- maybe it was social media.

Deep, slow breaths helped calm you down. A clenched hand against the blankets let you safely and carefully express your nervousness and fear. Your throat felt dry as you coughed, wiping at your face again. Silence overcame the house for a small while before the loud interruption of the front door opening caught your attention.

Nobody knew you were here except yourself, Simon, and Price. He was the only member of of 141 that knew of you, simply because Simon trusted Price with his life. Heavy doubt filled your mind that it was Price or Simon, so you grabbed your phone and walked out the bedroom slowly.

The pad of your socked feet against the hardwood flooring countered the heavy boots by the door. Your heart leaped into your throat, questioning if that could be your Simon. You really hoped so, because if it wasn’t you were surely fucked.

You peeked your face around the corner, eyes wide with fear and curiosity. A breath held itself in your throat before escaping. There he was -- he was home.

You leapt forward, arms reaching out and grabbing onto him as you sobbed in delight. Wide, thick arms wrapped around your middle as you clung to the man in your doorway. His hands went to your hair, petting it as you sobbed into his chest. A piece of you didn’t believe that he was real right now -- you didn’t fully believe that this was your Simon alive and well.

“Si?”

“I’m home, love.”

Another sob ripped through you as your face buried itself in his chest. You couldn’t believe that he was actually here, alive and well. Simon pressed one hand against your back, keeping you close as he moved away from the door. His fingers tapped against your thigh, a silent signal of him wanting to carry you.

Your arms found their way around his neck, holding onto him as you sobbed harder and harder. The realization that he was really there still hadn’t encapsulated entirely but you were so, so happy that he was alive and safe.

Ghost -- Simon -- pulled your head back softly, gloved hand tracing your cheek and wiping off a straying tear. His mask sat on his face was practically taunting you as his brown eyes watched your every move. One of your hands pulled away from his neck momentarily, tentative fingers tracing the edge of the mask.

He made no move to stop you as you hooked your fingers on the bottom lip of the mask, pulling it up and off of the man. A breath escaped the both of you as you got to encapsulate his face entirely. Large, sullen brown eyes that light up at the mere sight of your face. Thin, pale lips that were wet from his tongue darting between them.

God, you loved this man so much.

Simon, now with a revealed face, brushed his thumb against your cheekbone once more. He smiled softly, eyes darting across your face before landing on your lips. His tongue darted out once again, wetting his lips slightly before he leaned in.

When you kissed, it felt like fireworks were going off in your stomach. It was euphoric, the feeling of kissing him. You learned early on that Simon was a good kisser, and especially more that he was a gentle lover. His hands, though rough and calloused, never truly did any harm to you.

Simon was a rough man. His hands were the opposite of gentle and caring, and yet that’s exactly how he treated you. He was so kind and soft with every grace of his fingers, every kiss he placed. The hulking man before you was the definition of loving when he was with you.

“Sweetheart, hey, hey,” His voice was soft as he listened to your quiet sniffles. “I’m home. I’m here with you, love. Why’re you cryin’?” You shook your head, pressing your face into his collarbone once again and trying to stop your whimpers. Simons heart broke at each whimper, worried that he had become the cause of your cries.

In a sense, he wasn’t wrong.

Soft words filled the air between the two of you as you explained the fear that you’d experienced. Simon was in the military: he wasn’t a new face to the chilling hands of fear. It was something that he had hoped to hide you from, before everything else.

He leaned down, pressing his lips against your forehead. Seeing you scared, hurt -- it made him feel terrible. Some days Simon wished he could just retire already and stay at home with you, but he knew those days weren’t for him. Not just yet.

Simon placed an arm behind your knees and his other on your back before literally swiping you off the ground. You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding onto his tightly. He wouldn’t drop you, you were fully aware, but you still held onto him.

“I’m sorry, love. I couldn’t text you while I was on the mission, needed to be secret.”

Simon pressed a kiss on your forehead again, his scruffy beard scratched itself against your skin as he walked to the bedroom. His eyes jumped across each painting that he’d placed in the hallway. One of the two of you on your first date, when you moved in with him, even one from when you met his captain.

He smiled. Simon had never truly had a happy moment before you. His life had been terrible, from his father to his service, nothing had ever truly gone Simon’s way. It made loving you feel so odd. At times it even felt wrong because of how different the two of you.

Gently, he placed you on the plush bedspread, watching as your body sat flush against the blankets. His lumbering body towered over you, his dog tags falling from inside his shirt to dangle above your face. That was a sight he loved, you with dog tags.

“Si?” “Mm?” “Can... can we be gentle tonight? I- I know we haven’t seen each other in a while but...” “Course we can, sweetheart. I wasn’t gonna be too rough with you.”

Simon leaned down further, pressing his lips to yours as one of his hands pressed into the blankets behind you. His body wanted to deepen the kiss and kiss you aggressively, feverously, but he held back. You specifically requested that tonight was gentle.

He pulled away, leaning above you as he admired you. Eyes tracing every single mark on your face, all of the little imperfections you would unconsciously pick out on yourself. He thought you were truly gorgeous, in all honesty.

His fingers trailed town, hooking onto your shirt and slowly beginning to tug upwards. His eyes flickered upwards to yours, asking for silent consent. You nodded -- he knew he had consent, but he always asked beforehand. It was kind.

The shirt came off quickly, being thrown to some side of the room that Simon couldn’t care less about in the moment. He was aware you didn’t wear a bra when you were at home, especially late in the evenings. Simon scooted himself down, latching his lips onto one of your nipples as he clenched the other in one of his large palms.

His low, labored breaths were hot against your skin, writhing under his grasp as he continued his assault against your chest. The wet ‘pop!’ that came from him lifting his mouth from your breast was enough to force your face red. A wicked grin sat on his features as he captured your lips in a soft kiss.

You softly tugged at his shirt, Simon immediately catching on and pulling it up, tossing it in the general direction of your shirt. His eyes trailed down as your fingers tracer the scars across his torso. He’d told you about each of them one night, when the two of you were just laying in bed.

Simon pushed himself down, trailing kisses down your naval until he pressed one to your pelvis. He did the exact same thing he had done with his shirt, exposing the happy trail of dark hair going down his naval. His fingers hooked themselves on the rim of your soft pajama pants and underwear. With a single nod, they came off quickly.

He pressed kisses to your newly exposed skin, leaving soft little bite marks on both of your thighs. Teeth latching onto the soft skin, his eyes looked up to you. In this moment, Simon was the most beautiful thing in the world. Brown eyes illuminated by the lamp sitting beside the two of you, scruffy beard imperfectly filled in, large hands holding your legs apart.

One more kiss was placed on your skin before Simon pressed his face into your cunt, tongue lapping at the pink flesh. His hands hooked around the backs of your thighs as he pulled you closer to him, letting his tongue begin it’s inner assault.

You whimpered, head falling back into the blankets as one hand clutched his hair. Simon grinned against your cunt, lapping up your juices as if it was the last meal he’d ever get to fully experience. He groaned against you, tongue exploring you as much as he could.

Simon groaned again in response, metaphorically drinking in your moans and whimpers. He pulled his head up momentarily, watching you with lust-heavy eyes. “Sweetheart, you an’ I both know that I could sit here ‘nd eat for the rest of the fuckin’ night. As much as we’d both enjoy that, I think you wan’ somethin’ a little bigger than my fuckin’ tongue.”

He sat up, thick fingers losing their gloves as they glossed over your body. One of his hands remained between your thighs, fingers slowly creeping closer to your weeping cunt. Simon grinned at your writhing body, beginning to press a finger against your clit. He chuckled at the cry you let out, back arching.

“What, my little pet can’t take it? You wanna be good for me, don’t you? Be my good little pet -- good pets get rewards.”

He laughed at your whimpering pleas, listening to you as you begged and sobbed. Simon wouldn’t categorize himself as a sadist, but he did enjoy overstimulating you a bit. Your whimpering begs and cries as you writhed in the pleasure were music to his ears.

“Good pet.”

Simon’s hands went to his belt, beginning to work on undoing it. The cling of its metal caught your attention as you sat up on your elbows, panting softly as you watched him. You whined, wanting his hands back on your body. He smiled, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your skin.

His pants dropped but a moment later, underwear included as his cock stood straight. It slapped against the naval of his stomach, covering the happy trail that sat against his skin. You wanted to reach forward and press a trail of kisses against it, but Simon had other plans.

He pushed you down slowly, chuckling softly as you gasped with your back hitting the bed. “I treasure you so dearly, my little one.” His voice was barely over a whisper as he leaned over, whispering things that would otherwise be absolutely lost to the darkness.

Both of his hands rubbed the backs of your thighs, thumbs grazing over the soft flesh as he pushed them backwards. When the two of you got together, you never would have thought that you would be able to touch your knees to your chest, but Simon quickly proved that you, in fact, could.

Simon took his cock in one hand, using the other to give your clit slight stimulation as he rubbed his tip against your slit. You keened, whining softly as you begged him to ‘hurry up, Si. I need you.’ With a heavy chuckle, he pressed his tip into your slit.

He wasn’t a small man in any sense. From his towering height to the sheer amount of mass he was, Simon was a large man. On the battlefield, he was a good soldier to push and move in to fight. In day-to-day life, he was like the perfect guard dog.

In the bedroom, he believed that he was more... difficult to exist. Simon believed himself to be too large for the actions that would happen within those confined walls. You quickly proved his worries to be just worries.

Simon let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in escape him as his tip pressed into you. The feeling of your nails digging into the muscle of his shoulder nearly made him pound your cunt as hard as he could, but then he remembered what you had asked of him.

He bit his lip, slowly allowing you to get used to his size -- it had been a little over a month since you’d last taken him. A prideful grin broke across his features as he slowly pressed himself deeper and deeper, listening to the small sounds you’d make in response to him. He leaned his head down, pressing light kisses to your collarbone.

“That’s a girl, you’re doin’ so good for me.”

His praise alone was enough to make you wet enough for him. Whimpers and desperate begs filled the air of the room as he sheathed himself fully inside your cunt. Simon huffed, forgetting just how good the feeling of you felt. “Fuck, sweetheart.”

Your cries of pleasure just by the minor movement of him bucking his hips in-and-out fueled him. He pressed a hand against one of your thighs, using it as leverage as he attempted to press himself deeper. This was for you -- Simon would have been fine without having sex. His sex drive was high but he could repress the urge.

Arms coming up, inviting him closer as your face melded into one of his absolute favorites -- the most euphoric, pleasure-filled face he’d ever seen on you. Every single time he saw your face contort, he fell more in love with you. Simon leaned down, pressing another kiss into your lips before pulling back and panting against your lips.

“Fuck -- sweetheart, I’m close.” “Me... me too... Si...” “With me, love. Come with me.”

Simon growled into your ear, cock throbbing against your cunt. It felt like you were trying to milk him, as if your pussy was purposefully sucking him in deeper. You whined out loudly, clawing at his back as your orgasm neared closer and closer. “Si -- Si, please-” His voice was so low and quiet you almost didn’t catch his demands.

The room was filled with your pleas and whimpers as you pleaded with him to let you cum, sobbing out and nearly begging him for your orgasm. Simon let go of the grasp on your thighs, pressing his hands into the blankets beside your head. Your legs immediately wrapped around his waist, pulling him in closer and deeper.

He groaned, pressing his forehead against yours as his hips sped up. The slow, methodic thrusts he had been keeping up dissipated, now being replaced by a faster, harder, deeper rhythm. Your moans fueled his orgasm, one of his hands reaching down and pressing against your clit. The fingers against your cunt rubbed your clit as he chased his orgasm, growling into your ear as he barked orders to you.

“C’mon, c’mon love, cum for me. Fuck -- all over my cock, sweetheart. Thatta girl -- good pet, that’s my good girl.”

His praises heated the flame of your orgasm, the white heat of it rushing to overwhelm you. Your arms and legs clenched down onto him, wanting him as close as you physically could have him while your orgasm ripped through you.

Simon groaned, cock throbbing as his orgasm tore through both of you. His head curled down, into your neck and biting down on your collarbone. A silent marking that you were his -- as if the cum that had just been poured into you didn’t say that you belonged to him already.

He stayed there for a moment, letting his cock empty itself inside of you. His teeth let go of your skin, slowly flattening himself onto you as his cock rested inside of you. He sighed out into your skin, slowly pressing small kisses into your neck.

The two of you stayed there for a moment, just letting yourselves calm down from the orgasms you had just experienced. Simon wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you on top of him as he laid onto his back. Somehow, he’d kept himself inside of your cunt while turning himself over.

Simon looked down to you, eyes soft as you took your breaths on top of his chest. You nuzzled your face into his warm chest, feeling to chill of the house begin to creep into the bedroom. His head fell back against the pillows, one arm reaching over to pull a blanket across your body.

“Mm... Si?” “Hm?” “I love you.”

He chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to your hair as he rubbed your back. “I love you too, sweetheart. Now get some sleep -- I’ll be here when you wake up, I promise.” You smiled in response, giggling softly. Simon always understood you further than you’d ever know.

Simon Riley was a big and scary man, but he was also a kind and loving man. He was soft and gentle behind that mask he wore. The mask that only you could see past. You never got to see Ghost -- you only got to see Simon Riley himself. If you were honest with yourself, you wouldn’t mind it either way.

#ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley #ghost #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #call of duty #call of duty: modern warfare 2 #cod #cod: mw2 #ghost smut #simon riley smut

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ugotcooneycrossed · 4 months

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have i told you lately, im grateful youre mine • alessia russo

w/c: ~900

alessia doesn't like anyone as much as she likes you- or, how mean girl less is really just a big softie

a/n: i dont really love this but its done so

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the skies are overcast- the cold wind hitting your cheeks and nose- no matter how hard you try to cover them in your scarf.

it’s raining- small droplets fall down and splatter on the ground, and on your clothes- well alessia’s clothes, but really it’s basically yours anyway.

it feels just like home really.

you had no reason to make the move to america- unfortunately gifted with the burden of two left feet, and asthma so bad your breathing could rival that of a pug, a sport scholarship was out of the question. thankfully your skills in books landed you with endless opportunities, that wouldn’t cause you to fall on your face. you could’ve gone to any uni really- but with an academic scholarship calling, and the promise of much better weather, you couldn’t turn it down.

and it was only ironic that you met alessia when you finally got to UNC- stargirl to the extreme and very- very serious footballer. even thinking about her sport made you breathless- or well, thinking about her playing football with the stupidly attractive captains armband made you breathless.

friday night games are your favourite- all your focus can be diverted to watching your girlfriend play.

and like every other week- your voice is sore from how much you’ve been cheering and screaming for the blonde striker.

they’re winning two – nil, those scored by of course alessia.

and no matter how many games you go to, no matter if they’re here at UNC or somewhere across the world for youth international duties, and no matter how many times she scores. you will always be the loudest one cheering.

you manage to make eye contact with her, beaming at her and sending her a thumbs up-and she smirks back at you, blowing you a kiss. your cold cheeks start to warm and you sit back down when the people around you start to tease you.

everyone and their mothers know who alessia russo’s girlfriend is- she’s quite known for her possessive streak around campus.

there was the time where she poured her drink on someone when they didn’t get the hint, also the time she came to you at half-time at her game to steal your jacket so everyone could see the number on the back of your shirt- then nursing you back to health when you inevitably got sick, and also the time she blew off training and had to run laps- all because she wanted to cuddle.

so, no- she’s not subtle at all.

not that you’d complain of course- her jealousy is very attractive.

by the time the stands clear out- it’s just you left, waiting for your girlfriend to finish her post match routine.

“hey (y/n)!”

you beam at the voice- running down the steps to jump into lotte’s arms for a hug.

“hi! you were so great out there!”

“how do you know- I’m sure lessi was all you could focus on.”

“that’s not true carlotte. i love all you girls equally.”

“hmm well i wasn’t even playing, so i think you’re lying.”

lotte wiggles her eyebrows at you, and your mouth drops I shock- before you rub the back of your neck in embarrassment.

“sorry lotts.”

“just kidding! i really was playing- but you still didn’t notice so ha!”

“go bother someone else’s girlfriend lotte- or, go get your own!”

alessia swings her arm around your shoulder and your hand comes up to hold hers- fingers entwining. alessia presses a kiss to the side of you face and stares at lotte.

“calm down less- i’m just messing around.”

you elbow your girlfriend.

“yeah, yeah. bye now lotte i’ll see you tomorrow.”

you both watch the older girl walk away- and alessia sets off, arm still around your shoulders, bringing you close to her side. you start to stumble over your feet at the awkward angle she’s created.

“less let me go- i can’t walk properly.”

“no.”

in the few years alessia’s been here, she’s garnered quite the reputation- a harsh captain with a mean streak, always quick with insults, and never afraid to get into a physical fight.

she’s competitive, and judgemental- and well a mean girl.

but you know better.

you know that she’s a sucker for romantic films- no matter how many times she tells you its stupid, she’ll always end up crying first.

you know that she lets you win- at any game really, ‘miss sore loser’ seems to always forget how to play whenever its against you.

you know that her jealousy is just because she loves you- and despite time, and time again reassuring her that she doesn’t need to be jealous, that you have and always will love just her- she continues to bite the head off just about anyone who so much as looks at you.

you can especially see it in the way she grips your hand tighter, the way her eyes glare at anyone daring to get too close, but mostly- you can tell in the way she refuses to let you go, from whatever party youre at, all the way back to your dorms.

shes a softie really- hanging off you as if you were her lifeline- puckering her lips and begging for kisses.

no one knows her the way you do.

the way you could do absolutely nothing with her and itd still be perfect.

#alessia russo x reader #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso

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querenciasturniolo · 4 months

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ghost ⮕ s.t.

word count: 4.1k

warnings: depictions of death (no active murder), mentions of death, mentions of vomit, blood, suspense, anxiety, fear, swearing

summary: murders in los angeles have been happening left and right, and right as you think it couldn’t get any worse, one of your best friends is gone.

a/n: this took much longer than it should have, and for that i’m sorry, but i have a few things to say beforehand. this was inspired by multiple edits, two separate convos i had with @floofparker and @champangekisses , scream being one of my FAVORITE scary movies, and, of course, the iconic “WHO’S MOST LIKELY TO BE THE GHOSTFACE KILLERRRR” from chris. this took FOREVER, but i’m so proud of it and so excited to put it out. this is pretty reminiscent to the movie, but i added my own little spin on it. PLEASE read the bolded disclaimer and take it to heart, i don’t think anything that goes down in this fic would actually happen, hence the name fanfiction. it’s supposed to be unrealistic, that’s the point. i hope you enjoy 🫶🏻

everything written is completely fictional. the people i write for are written with characteristics and mannerisms that i made for them, this is in no way depicting what would actually happen in real life.

Twenty year old social media star Christopher (Chris) Sturniolo was found dead outside of his Los Angeles home on September 22, 2023. His brothers, who he made comedy videos with on multiple platforms, Nicolas and Matthew Sturniolo, claim their brother had been out with long-time friend and fellow content creator, Y/f/n Y/l/n, hours before.

Nick and Matt told police moments before they rushed out to find their brother with multiple stab wounds, they heard yelling and a struggle. When they reached Chris, the assailant was gone. Y/n hasn’t spoken about their day together prior to his death, and has refused to answer any questions asked. Her and Matt Sturniolo seem to have ended their year-long relationship shortly after this tragedy, but we all want to know why. Was there an affair? Was the guilt too much to keep the secret after Chris’ death?

On October 13, 2022, Y/n’s brother was murdered brutally, and their mother suffered a very public breakdown. The assailant in her brother’s case has yet to be found.

Chris Sturniolo’s murder was the fifth in a little less than two months. Police have yet to tell the public any of their leads in this string of serial murders, but have disclosed that they are far from closing these cases.

The article had only been out for an hour, and your Instagram and Tiktok were already being swarmed with notifications. So many, that you had to delete both apps off of your phone to keep it from crashing.

You hadn’t left your bed since that day, only to get something to eat and some water when you ran out—you couldn’t even go to the funeral. You couldn’t bring yourself to answer your phone, you couldn’t even answer the countless messages you scrolled through in the days following your best friend’s death.

Today was the day, you decided, that you were going to do something. Three weeks couldn’t have been too late to get your shit back together. You had woken up in the late afternoon and gotten into the shower, standing under the hot spray for what felt like forever and just allowing yourself to relax and release any tension in your body.

You had made a full meal for the first time since…that morning. You were nauseous the entire time you ate, but you had to do this. When your brother died, everyone told you that the best way to get through your grief was to continue your regular routine as much as possible. Filming a video was on your to do list. You weren’t going to post it, it was just for you to get back into the routine of talking to a camera.

Setting up your camera was the hardest part. You knew how to do it blindfolded by now, but the thought of doing anything like this, even if you weren’t going to post it, felt wrong, almost. It felt wrong to look into a camera and talk about that day, talk about your last day with Chris.

You sat down on your couch after pressing record and ran a hand over your face, finally looking into the lens and sighing.

“It’s been awhile.” You started, rolling your eyes at the corniness of your statement. “I don’t even know why I said that, I’m not even posting this.” You grumbled, dropping your head into your hands and carding your fingers through your hair. The burning in your throat started, and you continuously fought through the knot and forming tears.

You looked up again, hoping your eyes didn’t look as red as they felt. “I picked Chris up at ten fifteen, and we spent the entire day together. We went thrifting, as much as he complained the whole time.” You said, a ghost of a smile forming on your face as your eyes focused elsewhere.

“He, oh my God.” You said, chuckling to yourself and shaking your head. “He would throw whatever I had in my hands in the basket and ask if we were done yet, every time I picked something up. I don’t know what his problem was, considering he had gotten a few things too.” You said, sighing softly and glancing over at the camera.

“We went to lunch—that honestly sounds more fancy than it is, we stopped at In-n-Out—and we just came back to my house afterwards. We talked about…a lot of things.” You started, tears pooling in your eyes as you closed them and let yourself remember.

“We talked…we talked about life, and getting older.” You said, dropping your head back and looking up at the ceiling. “Fears, hopes and whatnot. We talked about everything.” You said, sighing softly as the remnants of Chris’ voice in your memory sang through.

“I don’t know what I want right now. I’m grateful that I’m doing so well, but in five years, where will I be?”

“It started getting late, so I took him home. He told me to come in if I wanted, but I…I was tired, I wanted to go home. He…he got out of the car, and I didn’t. I never...” You dropped your head in your hands again, your breathing labored as you fought off the guilt that had been deteriorating you for the last three weeks.

You lifted your head, about to stand and turn off your camera when your phone buzzed next to you. You sighed and flipped it over, frowning at the screen.

No Caller ID flashed before you. Usually you’d ignore the call, but something in you couldn’t resist as you slid the icon over and pressed it to your ear.

“Hello?” You asked, your voice quiet and shaky.

“It was your fault, you know.”

You’d never ended a call so fast, your phone hitting the couch as you stared down at it with wide eyes. The voice was distorted, completely unrecognizable, but familiar at the same time. This was some sick joke, it had to be. You took a deep breath and shook your head.

You stood and walked over to your camera on weak knees, stopping the recording and taking your camera off of the tripod. As you shut off the camera, your phone buzzed on the couch. A sigh left your lips as you placed the camera on the coffee table and ran your hands through your hair.

What was the worst that could happen, right? You picked up your phone, No Caller ID still flashing across the screen. You slid the icon over again and pressed your phone to your ear.

“That wasn’t very nice.”

Your entire body went on high alert. “Who is this?” You asked, your voice trembling.

“That’s not important, what’s important is I know what really happened that day.”

All of the air left your lungs as you shakily sat down on the couch. “What are you talking about?” You asked. A dark chuckle rang through the receiver, your heart pounding in your ears as you waited for an answer.

“You didn’t wait for him to get inside, did you, Sweetheart?”

A broken sob left your lips as you hung up the phone and dropped it, your whole body shaking with each shattered cry that escaped you. The guilt was too much, it was the only thing about your last day with him that you couldn’t bring yourself to even say.

You blame yourself for Chris’ death, if you had just waited a few moments for him to get in the door, none of this would have happened. It was killing you every single day, not knowing if your being there would have changed anything.

You ignored the next call, and went through your contacts. Your finger hovered over Matt’s name, your chest aching as you swiped out of his contact, clicked the one under it, and held your phone to your ear. Before Nick could even finish his greeting, you were straining to get your words out of your mouth through the knot in your throat.

“Nick, something is wrong. Please, please come over.” You whispered into the phone, trying your best to keep your voice steady as his silence on the other end made your skin crawl.

“I’ll be there soon.”

You put your phone on the couch and took your time pacing around your living room.

Nick would be here soon, there was no reason to panic. The person on the phone was nothing, no one. Your phone’s incessant buzzing pulled you out of your pacing. You were frustrated now, the guilt and pain that you’d been holding in for so long was finally out in the open and slapping you right in the face.

How did they know? You hadn’t told anyone, you couldn’t even bring yourself to say it out loud.

It didn’t matter, the person on the phone had no idea what they were talking about, which sounded about as stupid as you thought it did, but it was the only thing keeping you from pulling your hair out of your head.

You pulled your phone from the couch and answered, the buzzing driving you up the wall.

“Listen, I’ve already called the police, and they’re tracing this call right no—”

The laughter on the other end cut you off, your heartbeat pounding in your ears as that sickening, metallic voice rang through the receiver.

“Oh, Sweetheart. We both know that isn’t true. I do know, however, that your little friend and boyfriend are on their way right now. Care to explain how they’re going to help you?”

Every hair on your body stood on end, your chest aching with the intensity of each beat against your rib cage. You fish-mouthed, unable to get any words out as the voice continued.

“How are they going to stop me, hm? How are they going to keep me from gutting you the same way I did your dear old friend, Chris? Or your brother?”

You froze, your gaze stuck to the floor as each word processed in your mind. “My brother?” You whimpered, a sinister chuckle vibrated against your ear.

“You heard me, Sweetheart. He put up quite the fight, too. More of a fight than your little friend.”

“Shut up!” You screamed into the receiver, hanging up the phone and throwing it across the room. You could distinctly hear the shatter of your screen as you crumpled in on yourself.

Michael’s murder had completely destroyed you. Your entire world was uprooted, and your mom, your mom hasn’t been the same since. She spends her days sitting in a rocking chair in front of the window, rocking slowly back and forth in a daze.

You’d never shaken more in your life, your entire body twitching and fighting each movement you tried to make as you stood from the floor. You needed to get up, you couldn’t let yourself stay on the ground or you’d never move.

Before you reached your kitchen, the sound of a knock at the door had you jumping out of your skin. It took everything in you to walk to the door and peek out the peephole, ripping it open the moment you registered Nick and Matt standing on your porch.

You hadn’t said a word before they rushed in and wrapped you in the tightest hugs you’d ever experienced in your life. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you pushed the door shut and held them tightly.

“I’m so sorry.” You sobbed, both of their arms holding you as you completely crumbled. “I didn’t wait for him to get inside, I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault, he’d be here right now if it wasn’t for me. I’m so fucking sorry.” You rambled. Neither of them spoke, but their shoulders shaking softly against you answered the silent question of if they were listening.

When you finally pulled away, you were still shaking like a leaf. The guilt of holding it in for so long had been washed away, but the fear of that voice on the phone was still running rampant.

“No one blames you.” Nick said, his eyes rimmed red. “We’ve never blamed you. So you don’t need to worry about that.” You glanced at Matt, who’s eyes were still on the floor before you met Nick’s eyes again. “What happened?”

You sniffed and shook your head as you wiped at your face. “Nothing, it’s fine. It isn’t important.” You whispered, wrapping your arms around your abdomen as your eyes rested on Matt’s hunched frame. Nick sighed from where he stood and ran a hand over his face.

“I’ll leave you two to talk, but then I want to know what happened.” He said before he turned and walked towards the living room.

For what felt like hours, you and Matt stood across from each other in the mudroom of your childhood home, you staring at him, and him staring at the floor. When his eyes finally met yours, it felt as though your heart shattered and mended itself all at once. You hadn’t seen him since before Chris’ death, and the only message you’d sent him since then was telling him that the two of you needed to break up.

He looked as beautiful as he always had, but he looked different. Under his eyes were dusted in a dark purple, the whites of them tinged pink, his cheeks sunken in.

“Matty,” you whispered and took a step forward. He shook his head and looked back down at the floor.

“Why?”

It took everything in you not to wrap him in your arms and never let go. You knew exactly what he was asking you, and you knew the answer. It had taken these three weeks of you doing nothing more than surviving to realize you had no other reason to break up with Matt, other than the fact that looking at him would remind you of Chris, and you couldn’t handle it. It was selfish, and you could only imagine how he felt.

“I…I don’t have a good reason.”

Matt nodded and sniffed before looking up and meeting your eyes. The blue of his iris’ was striking against the red rimming his eyes. Your own eyes were burning as his gaze scanned over your face.

“Is it true?”

You frowned, confusion clouding your mind as he sighed and shook his head.

“What the article said, about you and Chris. Is it true? Was there…did you…”

You gasped as the realization hit you of what he was asking.

“Matt, what? I would never, I could never do that to you. I didn’t look at Chris like that, you know that.” You rambled on.

Matt nodded. “I know, I know. I’m sorry, just…a moment of weakness, I didn’t mean it.” He mumbled, taking a step closer to you. “Why did you end…us? I needed you, and you just…you shut me out.”

You took a deep breath in through your nose and shook your head. “I couldn’t bear looking at you and seeing him. I know, that’s selfish, and I’m sorry.” You whispered.

“I shattered the mirror in my bathroom the other night.”

You looked up, your eyebrows furrowed as Matt held up his hands. A gasp left your lips and you reached forward, delicately taking his cut up and bruised hands in yours. Before you could ask him why, he answered the silent question brokenly.

“Every time I looked in the mirror, I saw him.” You met his eyes again, and didn’t stop yourself as you pulled him into a bone-crushing embrace.

“I’m sorry, Matty. I should have been there.” You mumbled into his shoulder, his arms tightening around your waist as he breathed you in. Neither of you said anything, just held each other for as long as the other needed.

“Um, Y/n? Did you do this on purpose?”

You pulled away from Matt and turned around, seeing Nick holding your shattered phone in his hand. You sighed and nodded, the fear you’d completely forgotten about creeping up.

“I was getting prank phone calls, it’s not that big of a deal.” You mumbled, pulling away completely and walking towards the living room.

“What kind of prank phone calls would make you shatter your phone?” Matt asked quietly, you turned to face him and shrugged your shoulders, trying desperately to hide the shaking of your hands. You didn’t want to talk about it, you couldn't talk about it. If you talked about it, that would make it real.

Before you could even sit on the couch, Nick’s phone was went off in his pocket. Your heart pounded as he pulled it out and looked down at it with a frown.

“No Caller ID?” He mumbled, your jaw dropping as he pulled it to his ear. It was a few moments of silence before he met your eyes and handed it to you. “They asked for you.”

You whimpered as you took the phone and pressed it to your ear, not saying a word as the mechanical voice spoke again.

“You really thought smashing your phone would get rid of me, Sweetheart?”

“What do you want?!” You cried, the other line buzzing in silence for only a moment before Matt stepped forward and almost snatched the phone from your hand.

“I’m upstairs, come find me.”

The line beeped right as Matt grabbed the phone and pressed it to his ear. You froze in your spot, Matt turning to face you and dropping Nick’s phone on the couch. He grabbed your shoulders and shook you once lightly.

“What did they say? Baby, breathe. What did they say?!” Matt asked, his grip on your shoulders tight as you fought off the panic.

“He’s in the house. He’s in the house.” You whispered, your eyes meeting Matt’s. Nick moved from his spot and stopped right next to Matt, his eyes wide as he scanned your face.

“Y/n, who is in the house?” He asked, his voice quiet in shock. You shook your head, nausea overtaking you as you pushed past Matt and sprinted to the kitchen. You couldn’t make it to the trash, turning and vomiting into the sink, your breaths heaving as you felt a warm hand rest on your back.

It took everything in you not to crumple to the floor as you looked up and shook your head.

“H-He told me he’s the one that killed Michael…and C-Chris.” You whispered the last word, your throat burning and your stomach lurching. Matt’s eyes widened and he shook his head.

“How long have you been getting these phone calls?” He asked, his voice shaky as Nick handed you a bottle of water.

“It’s only been the last couple of hours, I thought it was some sort of sick prank until—”

A shatter from upstairs had your entire body tensing, your breath catching in your throat. Nick’s head whipped to the stairs as Matt reached for a knife and turned away.

“What are you doing?” You asked, grabbing his arm tightly and making him face you. Nick had his phone dialed and already pressed to his ear, speaking quickly to the 9-1-1 operator.

“I’m fucking going up there.” He said, pulling his arm from your grip and continuing his way towards the stairs.

“Matt, are you stupid?” Nick asked, stepping in front of the staircase as he hung up the phone. “The police are being dispatched, don’t do anything rash.” Matt shoved past Nick and ascended the stairs, his knuckles white on the handle of the knife. Nick groaned and faced you fully. “What are we gonna do?” He asked.

“We can’t just let him go up there by himself.” You whispered, walking past Nick and slowly stepping up the stairs.

“Jesus, you guys are gonna get us killed.” Nick grumbled from behind you. You heard a shuffle in the kitchen and turned, seeing him follow you up with a knife in his hand. “What? One of us had to grab something.” He whispered. You faced forward again, listening for any bump or creak that could indicate where Matt or the man that was in your house were.

It was silent as you walked through the upstairs. Each door you passed was closed, the only sound upstairs being the sound of Nick’s and your footsteps, and the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears.

“Matt?” You called out, the back of Nick’s hand hitting your shoulder. You looked at him, bewilderment etched into your face.

“Have you never seen a scary movie? Calling out in a dark house is the number one way to fucking die.” He said through his teeth. You rolled your eyes and opened your mouth to fire back.

“Get off of me!”

You jumped, your head whipping down the hallway to see a door slam. “Matt!” You shouted, running without thinking towards the door and shoving it open. The moment you stepped into the center of the room, you knew something was wrong. The door clicked behind you, and you froze in place.

“Look what we have here.”

You turned, your eyes meeting Matt’s. His entire demeanor changed, the heartbroken boy you’d seen before was gone. In his place, stood what you could only describe as a monster. His eyes were dark, his smirk sinister, and his shoulders were square.

“Matty?” You asked, Nick coming from behind him with an almost identical smirk.

The both of them chuckled and looked between each other. Nick stepped forward, causing you to take a quick step back.

“Oh, Honey. Matty’s been gone for a while.” His hooded eyes stared you down as you fully processed what was truly happening. The both of them had tricked you.

You took in a shaky breath past the knot in your throat as you took another step back.

“You?” You exhaled, your eyes switching between them as their smirks grew impossibly wider. Matt rolled his eyes and looked over to Nick.

“Us?” He mocked, meeting your eyes and taking a step closer to you. “Yes, Baby. Us. Is that so surprising?” He teased, your eyes brimming with hot, salty tears. The cool air in the room had them burning, and your throat felt like it was on fire.

“You two were behind the murders all along?” You asked, your voice barely reaching a whisper as they moved closer to you almost strategically, boxing you in with each step they took.

Nick chuckled and nodded his head, his eyes never leaving yours as he cocked his head to the side. “She’s catching up, Matt. Yes, every single one.” He said, his voice thick with venom.

“But why?” You whimpered, your back hitting the wall. You were cornered, you couldn’t get past them no matter how hard you tried. Nick and Matt’s eyes were wicked as they watched you, Matt’s smirk growing as he glanced over at Nick.

“Hear that, Nick? She wants a motive.” He said, his eyes meeting yours again. “It isn’t enough that we just felt like it?”

“You killed Michael in cold blood, just because you felt like it?” You spat. Nick quirked an eyebrow and lightly ran the tip of his finger over the blade of the knife he was holding.

“See, now you’re getting it. Not everyone needs a motive, some people are just sick and twisted.” He pouted at the end of his sentence, anger flushing through you and coating your skin in heat.

“And Chris?” You asked. Matt chuckled and shook his head.

“You really can’t be that dense, Baby.” He said.

“Don’t fucking call me that.” You said through gritted teeth.

“It was only a distraction. We were getting sloppy, and what’s better to get the cops off of our case than getting rid of one of us?” Nick interrupted. You shook your head.

“Murder isn’t a distraction, you sick fucks.” You spat, looking around the room for any escape.

Matt chuckled, and flipped the blade in his hand. “Oh, Baby. You really aren’t understanding, are you?”

Before you could spit in his face, the door behind them was pushed open, your eyes shifting to the shadowed figure walking into the room. Your heart pounded in your chest as realization slowly set in, a broken cry leaving your lips as you shook your head.

“No.” You whispered.

The white mask on his face would have been comical if every hair on your body wasn’t standing on end. You watched each movement closely, your knees buckling as you slid to the floor. The wood was ice cold as the man crouched down in front of you. He pulled the mask from his face, your choked sob being caught in your throat as you shook your head and looked down at the floor.

His warm finger rested on your chin and he lifted it up until your eyes met his, a broken whimper leaving your lips as you met the familiar blue eyes you’d looked into a million times before.

“What’s the matter, Sweetheart?” Chris said, his voice gravelly and rough as it left his smirking lips. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

tags: @lvrsparadise , @ssturniolo , @floofparker , @cat-loves-music , @geniejunn , @its-jennarose , @dwntwn-strnlo , @20nugs , @hiraethlimerence , @lavieenvalentina , @strniolo , @toyourloves , @jellybeanbby , @thetriplets3 , @mxriverse , @stvrni0lo , @gabbylovesreading , @tylerscreat0r , @angelcake-222 , @obsessivencrazy , @lollibumblebee , @stargirlv0id , @idontexistman , @emssturniolo , @soursturniolo , @bernardenjoyer , @mxqdii , @leah-loves-lilies , @mattsnutsack , @lovelysturniolo

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #scream #scream inspired #sturniolo #querenciasturniolo #nick sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo imagine #ghostface

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attic-club-sandwich · 11 months

Text

How They are Handling your Disappearance Pt. 3

MC Returns

Ahh you guys i'm so glad you are enjoying this little series! I wasn't expecting so many of you to like it! But as requested by many, here is part 3 where MC returns to the present day timeline and reunites with the 7 brothers. This is a bit of a lengthy one because like... we are home! It's a little less angsty, a little more happy this time haha. Anyways, please enjoy! Reblogs and feedback are appreciated as usual!

Read Part 1: Brothers

Read Part 2: Side Characters

Word count: 3,057

Rating: T, slightly suggestive.

Taglist: @amberrskiies @obey-me-posts @sassykattery @delphi-dreamin @bite-sized-devil @flemmingbamse @a-hidden-gem @otomefoxystar @siofrantic @todothedodo @ihatecorns @exrellian @vernith @sus0daddy

Fill out this form if you want to be tagged in my work!

rose divider by @/firefly-graphics

It feels like it has been forever since the day that you went missing, but the brothers never gave up their search. How could they when you were out there somewhere, possibly alone and scared? The thought of their little human wandering around the unknown gave them the motivation they needed to keep going. But after a long day of once again searching the Devildom up and down with no results, the brothers are settling down for the evening.

Lucifer

The Avatar of Pride is in his room getting ready for bed after a long day of searching for you.

His wings are terribly sore from flying all day, so he lays on his bed sprawled out on his stomach, allowing his feathery wings to stretch out behind him.

He rests his head in his arms, and sighs.

Yet another day of searching, but no results.

Suddenly, he begins to feel a familiar tingling sensation of magic in the air that brings goosebumps to his bare arms.

Before he had time to process what was happening, a flash of light filled his room, practically blinding him.

After a few seconds, the light dissipates and there you are, standing in its place.

Lucifer forgets all about his aching wings, and jumps up from the bed.

At first, he hesitates, terrified that you’ll disappear again at any moment.

“M-MC…? Is it really you…?”

His crimson eyes are wide as he takes in your appearance.

You appear the same, but he's confused by the horns that now rest on your head, as well as a few other demonic attributes.

Just where did you disappear to?

Your face scrunches up and your eyes fill with tears. “L-Luci… yes, it’s really me.”

Suddenly, his arms are around you, a million questions in his throat but unable to speak.

You whimper, taking in his scent. He smells freshly showered, the smell of his soap sending a wave of comfort crashing over you.

“Luci… I missed you so much…I’m so sorry…”

His shoulders begin to tremble and he tucks his face into the crook of your neck.

You feel wetness on your skin as he begins to cry.

Have you ever seen him cry before?

Just how much have they all suffered while I was gone?

Your arms wrap themselves around his neck and you squeeze your eyes shut.

You stand there in his arms, his wings wrapping themselves around the two of you protectively.

He will never let you go again.

After a few moments, he pulls away, staring into your eyes.

“MC, the days I've spent searching for you were endless… but never once did I give up. I’m very glad that I didn’t. Every second was worth my time.”

Suddenly his lips are on yours and you accept his kiss greedily.

Kissing him was the confirmation you needed that you were home.

“MC, please forgive me. You can tell me the details later, but right now I just need you. I need to know you are here and…real.”

He spins you around, guiding you to his bed so the back of your legs hit the edge, causing you to fall back.

He hovers over top of you, his crimson eyes full of love, adoration, and desire.

You giggle through your tears, placing a hand on his cheek. “I love you so much, Luci.”

He smiles, tucking a stray hair behind your ear.

“Words alone cannot express my love for you, little one.”

You give him a peck on the lips again. “We have a lot of time to make up for you know… where should we start?”

Lucifer gives you a mischievous grin. “I have just the thing in mind, darling. Something that has been long overdue.”

Mammon

Mammon returned to his bedroom shortly after arriving home.

He had to check on his ravens who were also out searching for you while they were gone.

His wings were sore as shit, and all he wanted to do was shower and go to bed.

But you are more important.

Throwing open his window, one of his ravens glides down to greet him.

“Damn, ya didn’t find anything did ya?”

The raven hangs its head sadly, and Mammon sighs.

“Thanks anyways, I appreciate the help.”

Suddenly the raven begins to flap its wings wildly, cawing at something behind him.

Mammon spins around, and his golden eyes widen in shock when he sees just who is appearing in the middle of his bedroom.

It was you, clear as day.

He’s speechless, unable to find the right words even though he’s been playing them on repeat in his head since the day you left.

“Mammon!” you shout with tears in your eyes. You begin to run towards him, but he meets you halfway, scooping you up into his arms and spinning you around.

He sets you down again, and hugs you snugly to his chest.

“MC…I… Shit. I-I missed ya so damn much…” he says with a shaky voice.

You inhale his scent as he hugs you, which smells of sweat and leather.

You’re home. He’s your Mammon. Finally…

“Mams, I’m so so sorry… I’ll explain everything I promise…”

He pulls you away from him, his golden blue gaze staring intensely at you.

“Damn right ya will! But for now…I don’t care..I just… I need ya so bad… I mean this can’t be real, right?”

You give him a small smile, taking his hand in yours.

“I’m real, Mammon. I promise.”

His tanned skin is flushed as he pulls you with him to sit on his bed, hoisting you up onto his lap.

He can’t hold back anymore as he plants a firm kiss to your lips.

You accept it eagerly.

Your tongues intertwine briefly before he pulls away, breathless.

“I love ya MC, I’m so sorry I couldn’t do a damn thing…”

You silence him with a kiss to the forehead.

“It’s not your fault, Mammon. Please don’t cry…”

He notices your own lip quivering, and let’s out an amused snort through his tears.

“Don’t you go cryin’ on me either!”

His long, slender fingers run through your hair and you sigh.

His lips are on yours once more, a low growl rumbling in his chest.

You can sense his overwhelming desire threatening to take over.

“Mammon’s got ya now, treasure. You’re safe with me. I’m never letting you go again.”

Leviathan

Throughout the search, Levi has been exploring every inch of the Devildom waters.

From seas to lakes, he still could find no trace of you.

Levi heads back to his room, a towel around his waist after Lucifer forced him to strip in the hallway so he didn’t track water through the house.

Once he’s dried off and dressed again, he sinks down in his gaming chair, sighing as his aching limbs are finally able to rest.

Tears welled up in his eyes, disappointed that he let everyone down again.

Especially you.

I’m so useless, he thinks.

A stray tear rolls down his cheek, and he wipes it away with his arm.

A flash of light appears before him, and it sends a tingling sensation up his body.

Wait a minute…that’s…!

His eyes are wide and his mouth gapes open as he looks up to see you standing there right in front of him.

“M-MC, I-Is it really y-you?!” Of course he’s a stuttering mess, but he can’t believe it.

He doesn’t know when he stood up, but suddenly you are slamming into him, wrapping your arms around his torso.

“Yes, Levi. It’s me.” you sob, burying your face into his chest.

Your voice has him melting in your grip.

He finally fully embraces you, burning his face into your hair.

Your scent is slightly different, and he can smell other demons on you.

This sends a wave of envy over him, but he ignores it. All he cares about is that you’re home.

He, however, smells of the sea.

“Levi, I'm so sorry… I promise I’ll explain. I just really need you right now. I’ve missed you so much…”

Leviathan only nods, his shoulders trembling from the sobs that are escaping him.

You stay standing there wrapped in his arms, gently rubbing circles on his back.

After some time, he calms down.

His eyes are red and puffy and his face is swollen. Your heart aches for him.

Suddenly, he grabs your hand, leading you over with him to his bathtub.

You climb in together, and you sit in his lap. His tail curls around you, holding you in place.

“M-MC…can I um, k-kiss you?” he asks, his tear stained cheeks becoming flushed.

You nod eagerly, and he places a soft, gentle kiss to your lips.

Your lips are the same as ever, soft and sweet.

Levi is overwhelmed with affection for you.

“I love you, I love you, I love you…” he mutters, rocking you gently in his lap.

He peppers your face with kisses and you giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I love you so much too, Levi. I’m so glad to be home…”

He rests his head on your shoulder, purple strands of his hair tickling your cheek.

“Please don’t leave me like that again, MC. I-I was so scared…”

The tremor in his voice causes fresh tears to form in the corner of your eyes.

“Never again, I’m staying right here with you.”

Satan

Satan steps over the pile of books on his floor before flopping down onto his bed.

His bedroom is in quite the disarray due to his last tantrum.

He can’t help that he’s just so damn frustrated!

They’ve practically searched the Devildom inside out, and still… nothing.

He huffs, crossing his arms over his chest as he stares out the window, tears threatening to spill down his cheeks.

He almost doesn’t notice the burst of light filling his bedroom.

The air was practically vibrating with magic when he spun his head around to see the silhouette of a figure in the blinding light.

He squints, trying his best to make out the form. Once the light dissipates, an unfamiliar feeling washes over him.

Satan thought he’s finally experienced every emotion in his lifetime of being in the Devildom.

But what he feels when he sees you standing there in his bedroom is indescribable.

He gasps, immediately jumping up from his bed and hurrying over to you.

Your eyes are locked on him, and he thought he noticed you flinch the moment he approached you.

“MC… are… you okay? Where in the Devildom have you been?”

His voice is soft, but it trembles slightly.

He doesn’t expect answers right away, of course.

Not when you are standing here in front of him for the first time in what feels like an eternity.

You nod, trying to wipe away your tears. “Satan… It’s me. I-I’m home.”

The sound of his name leaving your lips after so long pushes him over the edge.

He pulls you into his arms and he squeezes you tight, finally allowing his tears to fall.

“M-MC… I'm so glad you’re home safe… I was so worried about you…”

You relax against his chest, finally processing the fact that this wasn’t the past version of himself.

After a few moments, you sniff, pulling away from him to gaze into his eyes. You notice a scar on his cheek, still healing from a recent fight he must have had.

You gently trace your fingers over it, and he winces.

“I’m so sorry Satan…the pain that I must have caused you all…”

He shakes his head, glancing away.

“I’m just so relieved you are home, MC. I don’t believe that whatever happened was your fault.”

His fingers run through your hair and he kisses your forehead.

“Can I…kiss you?” you ask, your cheeks flushing slightly. Normally you wouldn’t ask, but it’s been awhile.

“Of course, kitten. But just know if you do, I may not be able to hold myself back from you much longer.”

You give him a smirk, and press your lips firmly to his.

To finally kiss your Satan once more.

He slips his tongue past your lips, and you groan.

When you pull away, his emerald eyes are shining with passion.

“Every book I read told me how to find you, but they never mentioned how to handle your return.”

He moves you to his bed with him so you are straddling his lap.

“But I don’t believe I need any instruction as to what comes next. I love you, MC. Please allow me to express the longing I’ve felt for you all this time.”

Asmodeus

Asmo had made his way to his room for the evening with the overwhelming urge to climb into his silk bed sheets.

But first he really wanted a bath. The thought of the warm water soothing his aching joints was very pleasant to him right now.

He had made his way into the bathroom to start the water, the noise of the faucet drowning out the sound coming from his bedroom.

Asmo thought he heard something, and he lifted his head to the door that connects from the bathroom to his room.

He thought his eyes were playing tricks on him.

Was that a flash of light just now? Is it storming?

He furrowed his brow in confusion, and stepped slowly over to peek through the door.

Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw.

There you were, standing right there in his bedroom.

Your eyes were wide and looking around, still processing where you had appeared.

Asmo gasps, forgetting about the bath and hurries over to you.

“M-MC?!” he shrieks, pulling you into the tightest hug he’s sure he’s ever given.

You begin to cry, tears falling down your cheeks and onto his shoulder.

“Shhh, MC. Don’t cry now, darling…” he coos, but his own tears are escaping him.

He holds you close as you cry together.

“Asmodeus…is… it really you? My Asmo?” you whimper.

He’s confused by what you mean, but he doesn’t question it for now.

“Of course my little lamb, it’s me. You’re home now…”

You sniff, pulling away from him slightly. “I’m so sorry Asmo, I swear I didn’t mean to leave you guys like that…”

Taking your hands in his, he shakes his head. “No no, hon, don’t blame yourself for this. I know there’s a very good reason, but you can explain later to all of us, okay?”

You nod, wiping your eyes.

“I was just about to get a bath. Would you care to join me, MC?”

The thought of taking a bath with Asmo right now feels…unreal.

You couldn’t believe you were finally home with him.

Smiling, he leads you into the bathroom.

First, he steps out of his robe, and your face flushes.

You’ll never get over how beautiful he is.

Then it’s your turn.

You shiver as he begins to undress you, his fingers brushing over your skin.

He smiles softly as he notices the goosebumps that begin to form on your body.

“I’ve missed this so much. Let me get a good look at you, darling.”

His eyes tear up again as his eyes travel over your body, still in disbelief that you were standing right there with him again after so long.

“I need all the time I can get with you right now before my brothers find out you’re home.”

He takes your hand and helps guide you into the bathtub.

You sigh as the warm water envelops you and he places you in between his legs with your back to him.

You feel his arms wrap themselves around you and you blush.“I’ve only been dreaming of this moment with you, MC.” Asmo murmurs, attaching his lips to your shoulder.

You whine as he continues to kiss up your neck.

“I love you so much, Asmo…”

He smiles into the crook of your neck as he holds you close.

“My dear, if anything came out of your disappearance, it’s how much I realized that I love you. Please, allow me to show you…”

Beelzebub and Belphegor

The twins were always together nowadays.

They were both getting ready for bed in their room after their long day, neither of them wanting to speak about the disappointing results of the search.

Belphie hugged his pillow to his chest as he climbed into bed beside Beel.

He was struggling to stay awake, but he had a peculiar feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Of course, being his twin, Beel felt it too. It wasn’t hunger, or anything like that… It was…

“Belphie do you feel…”

Before he could finish, a burst of light filled the room, temporarily blinding them both.

The sensation of magic through the air sent shivers down their spines.

Once the light dulled, they glanced up through squinted eyes to see… you.

Wait, is that really…?

Despite the dull ache in their bodies, they both jump up.

“MC!” their violet eyes are wide as they gape at you, still trying to decide if this was real or a cruel hallucination.

But you seem just as surprised as they are.

Suddenly, you feel yourself being pulled into a strong embrace.

Belphie is squeezed into the hug next to you, and you both glance up to see Beel with tears streaming down his cheeks.

“B-Beel… Belphie…I’ve missed you both so much…”

You sob, burying your face into Beel’s chest.

Belphie finally allows his tears to fall. I’m so lame, he thinks.

How dare you make him cry like this?

But he’s so happy. So relieved.

Beel begins to move you both towards his bed, placing you right between him and his brother.

You whimper as you feel their arms wrap around you.

The thought of being able to do this again with them never even crossed your mind.

You feel Beel nuzzle his face into your hair.

You smelled…different. But there was no denying your familiar scent and it made his mouth water.

Belphie yawned, burying his face into your shoulder.

“Beel and I had each other, but MC… you are our missing piece.”

His twin nodded, placing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Belphie is right. It feels right again with you here in between us.”

Your heart was so full.

You smiled wide as you kissed both of their foreheads.

“My boys…I love you so much.”

As you laid together, they took turns littering you with kisses and whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

The feeling of their lips and their hands on your body has your head spinning, and you whisper their names between breathless gasps.

After sometime, Beel turned towards you, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“I’m feeling a bit hungry…but for something different. How about you Belphie?”

Belphie immediately sensed where his twin was going and flashed him a smile back.

“I’m all of a sudden wide awake. What do you say you join us, MC? We want you to ourselves before we have to go back to sharing you.”

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sunflower-lilac42 · 2 months

Text

✧ 𝐒𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐒𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐦 || luke hughes ♔

summary: her family was never there for her, but he was and will always be

warnings: crappy parents, family dynamics, feelings of being not worthy enough, dizziness/sickness, mentions of not eating, crying (kind of), band, definitely not fully proof read

publish date: 02/27/24

notes: hiiii, i feel like it's been forever since i posted a fic but it really hasn't. i have been working on this fic for a while, probably like a week or two, and now eight thousand words later, here it is. this didn't really follow my plan of how i wanted this fic to turn out but i started wiritng how they met and i got obsessed with it so... i hope you guys my projecting about band. for this they live about three hours from umich because i said so. oh right, psa: a shako is the hat that the band members wear! | add yourself to the taglist ➺ taglist!

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Y/n always said she never minded, but Luke knew better. He knew that every time she looked out into those stands and saw the absence of her parents and siblings would always hurt her. She knew that marching band wasn’t the most entertaining thing in the world but the least they could do was be supportive. They sat through hours upon hours of baseball games where their sons wouldn’t even get a chance to go up to bat, they sat through hours and hours of concerts where they couldn’t even hear their daughters sing. But how come when it came to her, they wouldn’t spend even twenty minutes to see her on the field, a time they could actually see her do something?

Though, she told Luke over and over again that it didn’t bother her. She had her friends by her side who made the long Friday nights of football where their team would be getting crushed better, made basketball games where no one cared about whether or not they were there better, and made the excruciating heat better, which made the long bus rides and long days of competitions better. But who else was there to see that? No one, except that, was until she met Luke.

It was during their freshman year of high school, just as the football season was coming to a close and hockey season had started about two weeks ago. She was walking through the hallways on her way to the band hallway when she bumped into him, he was sweaty from the gym, his curls straightening out in the slightest. As soon as she saw him she was slightly star-struck, she wasn’t in the tiniest bit prepared for this to happen, “Hi. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. I wasn’t looking where I was going.” Luke thought she was pretty right off the bat, the way she seemed shy but talked loud, the way she fiddled with the bracelet around her wrist, the way her smile was awkward but genuine.

The two stood in silence and then the warning bell rang, signaling that there were now two minutes to get to class. Luke and y/n looked startled by the bell, both of them had spaced out while looking at each other, “Oh, what do you have next?”

She looked up at him, surprised by the question, “Lunch, technically. And you?”

“Oh weird, I have lunch too. How come I’ve never seen you there?”

“I have band right now until the season is over. We go out for a period and a half to work on the show and then we get the last half of next period to eat lunch.”

“You only get 20 minutes to eat lunch?”

She nodded, a smile growing on her face, “Yeah. Um, I should probably go, but it was nice to meet you.”

She ran off, not allowing Luke to properly introduce himself. He was going to call after her but she was gone before he could think about the words to say. He went the rest of the day thinking about the interaction and her, and she did too. She allowed herself to be delusional for once, thinking about what it would feel like to have a boyfriend and for him to show up to her events.

The next day, she found herself rushing to the band hallway, having left her last class late. She was just about there when she heard a voice call, “Hey!”

At first, she didn’t realize it was her that the voice was talking to. She hadn’t remembered the last time someone had actively sought her out. However, once the voice called again she stopped and looked around and saw Luke standing there with a smile on his face, “Hi.”

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“You have?” She looks confused and bewildered at the same time, moving to her locker to get her instrument.

He nods, leaning against the set of lockers next to her, “Yeah. For starters, I was wondering your name and if I could get your-”

He was cut off by a group of students coming up, saying excuse me so they could get to their lockers. She looks at him as her lock opens, handing it to him, “Thank you.”

She grabs her instrument and her shoes before grabbing the lock back and locking her locker. She ushers him to follow her, walking into the band room and throwing her stuff down. Luke talked to her as they walked, explaining how he wondered what her name was and if they could exchange numbers. Once again, she was taken by surprise and then saw her friends enter the room, “Um sure. What do you have next period?”

“Uh study hall.”

“Okay, cool. I’ll meet you in the library then?” She was changing her shoes and saw her friends approaching faster and faster, “See you later.”

She then pushed him out of the room through the nearest exit. Luke was lost as he was shoved into the hallway, watching her throw her hair into a ponytail as she walked away. He heard her tell her friends that she had forgotten a jacket and that she was going to freeze to death. He decided to wait for her, thinking about giving her the extra hoodie that he brought in case he forgot his own.

When she came walking out of the band room a few minutes later, he caught her arm and she turned around, “Hi?”

Her friends looked at her in amusement, eyebrows raising. They didn’t say anything, just walked away and left her there on her own, “I heard you say you were cold.”

“Um yeah, I’m fine though, thank you.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind giving you this,” he held out the hoodie and she gazed at it with curiosity.

“Really?”

He nodded, encouraging her to take it, “I’ll give it back to you next period.”

He shrugged it off, not too worried about if she did decide to keep it. She walked away, heading outside while putting the hoodie on. She smiled at it being too big, it must’ve been one he got from his brothers or got the wrong size in. As she caught up with her friends, she could hear them talking about the boy she had just been talking to, still not knowing his name.

“What is it?”

“That’s Luke Hughes!”

“Who?”

“Luke Hughes?”

“Not ringing any bell here.”

“He’s a really good hockey player, and so are his brothers. Quinn, his oldest, is supposed to be drafted in next year’s draft, he just started college this year. And Jack, he’s a junior right now, everybody is saying he’s supposed to be drafted in two years.”

“And you all know this because?”

“Because the Hughes brothers are hot y/n/n. Actually, hockey men are hot, but three brothers? Come on.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, placing her things down on the turf, “Did he give you his hoodie?”

“Yeah…?” Her friends squealed, ‘Guys it’s not a big deal. He probably doesn’t like me. Do you remember the last time I dated someone, let alone someone who I liked that liked me back?”

“Yes.” Her friends said in a deadpan voice, “You talk about it all the time.”

“Well, I just think it’s worth mentioning since he thought the Earth was flat! And then the other guy I liked made me cry at homecoming! There is no way in the world that Luke Hughes, who is who you say he is, would like me.”

The three friends eyed each other and then looked at y/n, “We’ll see about that.”

Band was slow that day as it usually was, they went over the one spot in song four that was troubling people the most. If they didn’t want them to struggle, they shouldn’t have given them choreography for eight counts right before a huge change in tempo and the hardest spot in the music. When it was over, she slugged her way back to the school, her legs ached and her arms too from holding up her instrument.

She put her things away, now walking to the library instead of going to lunch. She had work to do, and a test next period as well. When she got there she spotted Luke right away, he was scrolling on his phone and laughing every once in a while. She walked up to the table he sat out, placing her water bottle down and letting her backpack fall down to the ground with a thud. She plopped down into her chair with a groan and placed her head on her forearms.

Luke looked up from his phone from the moment the metal of her water bottle touched the table and watched the girl with amusement in his eyes, “Why hello there.”

“Hi.”

“Shouldn’t you be eating lunch?”

She sat up, “‘M not hungry. Plus I have to study for a test next period.

He nodded, shoving his phone into his pocket, “You want help?”

“Sure.” Y/n reached into her backpack and pulled out the green folder, “Bio?”

“The actual fucking death of me.”

Luke helped her study for the next twenty minutes, stopping occasionally just to look at her. The librarian was watching from afar, silently admiring the two. She knew that the two were going to end up together, there was something about the way Luke looked at her even if they had just met the day before. When she announced that there were five minutes left of the period, y/n started packing up and thanked Luke for his help.

“No problem, now I think you still owe me your number.”

“Oh right, give me.” She held out her hand for his phone to which he placed it in her hand.

She typed her number in and saved her contact name as ‘Y/n’ with a teddy bear emoji, “Why a teddy bear?”

“I don’t know, it was the first emoji I thought of.” Luke shrugged and texted her so she’d have his number too, “Save mine as Lukey with the honey emoji!”

“Honey?”

“Yes?”

“You’re a dork. No but actually why the honey emoji?”

“So that way our contact emojis are Winnie the Pooh,”

“That is the cutest and stupidest thing I have ever heard.” She stood up and immediately felt dizzy.

She placed a hand on the table and closed her eyes, “Are you okay?”

“Uh yeah, just a little dizzy. I’ll be fine.”

Lule looked at her apprehensively, he knew she wasn’t but he let it go. He walked her to class, neither of them noticing she was still wearing his sweatshirt, and wished her luck on the test. Over the next week and a half, the two texted each other non-stop with random updates on their lives and random conversations. It was now the next Thursday, a day before the last game of the season and everyone was excited as it was the rivalry game.

Luke and y/n sat next to each other outside after school, she had rehearsal later in the evening and Luke had said he wanted to stay with her. Jack had already left and he wasn’t going to leave her there alone. They sat at the picnic table outside of the school, she was working on homework as Luke scrolled on his phone occasionally glancing up at her.

She didn’t eat lunch again today and he wasn’t sure if it was because she wasn’t hungry or because she didn’t want to. When he noticed her eyes dropping he grew more concerned, “You okay?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m good. Why?”

“I don’t know, you just look like you’re not okay.”

“I should probably eat something, haven’t been able to yet.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t eat breakfast, it makes me sick and lunch well after band and only have twenty minutes to eat, my appetite is practically non-existent.”

“You wanna walk to the store?”

“Sure.”

The two got up and set out to the store, making jokes along the way. She was wearing one of Luke’s sweatshirts, he had given it to her earlier today when he found out she had once again forgotten her own. Luke had only met her a week ago and he was protective of her. There was something about her that just made him want to shield her from everything harmful that could come her way.

Luke offered to pay for her food as they checked out but she declined even after giving minutes of them just standing there and Luke pestering her. An old lady who was checking out next to them looked at them fondly, “You should let him pay, dear. It’s not every day that someone is going to come around begging for you to let them pay.”

Y/n felt butterflies appear in her stomach, looking between the lady and up at Luke. She finally nodded, accepting her fate and letting Luke pay. She thanked him endlessly as they walked back to the school, linking arms with him as she could feel herself getting dizzy again, “So what are you doing this weekend, Hughes?”

“Hockey probably, but I’d have to look. What about you?”

“We got a band competition, it’s kind of like state for us.”

“Oh, that’s cool.”

She shrugged, not really wanting to go, “It’s gonna be a long day and my- never mind.”

“No, what is it?”

She shook her head, sitting down and taking the food out of her bag. Luke looked at her confused, saddened by her sudden mood drop. He could tell that she didn’t want to talk about it but he was nosey, and he really wanted to know, “Come on. You can tell me.”

She sighed, “All of my friends’ parents are going and my parents don’t even bother to show up to football games. They only bother to show up for the kids that could do something successful.”

Luke was foreign to the way she was feeling, well for the most part. He didn’t know what it was like for his parents to not show up for games, sure they couldn’t come to every game but they came to games that they could make it for and the important ones. He understood what it felt like to be overshadowed, however, not that he really was. It was more of a thought rather than an actuality.

“Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you feel sorry for me. Don’t, please.”

“I’m not.” She raised an eyebrow but stopped the conversation.

“How are you getting home tonight?”

“My friend is taking me.”

“Let me take you.”

“Luke, you can’t even drive.”

“No I know that but I’ll stay here and then-”

She laughed, interrupting him, “You are not going to stay here for another two and a half hours, Luke.”

“And why not?”

“Because you have to go home, I’m surprised you even offered to stay here with me until rehearsal started.”

“But I want to be.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, I just want to be there for you.”

She gave him an awkward smile, shocked once again by his actions and words. She pondered about what to do, she didn’t want him to have to stay later than he already had offered. On the other hand, it felt nice knowing that someone wanted to be there for her, to go to her activities for her even if it was just a practice.

She carefully eyed him up and down, “Okay, but keep in mind I wasn’t the one who made you stay.”

He smiled and held his hands up in surrender. He followed her as she walked through the school to the band room, stopping at her locker to grab her instrument and other things. He followed her through the band room and out the doors to the football field, looking like a lost puppy. She sat with her friends as they waited for football practice to be over, Luke sitting behind her on his phone.

“So, why is he here?”

“Why is who here?”

Her friends gestured with their heads to the boy who sat a couple of feet behind them, “Him.”

“Oh, I don’t know. He said he wanted to come.”

“Oh my god, y/n! This means you can finally get over-”

“Shut up. He doesn’t like me and I don’t like him, it’s simple. Plus, I haven’t liked… you know who, for a while. I don’t even think I liked him in the first place.”

“Uh huh, sure. You are in delusion, my friend. And you have convinced yourself that neither of you has feelings for each other. No one wants to be at a band rehearsal, not even the people in band want to be here, and Luke Hughes wants to be here? For you?”

“It’s nothing, can we just drop it?”

“Yeah, yeah. So I heard that Sydney and Max were having sex in the practice rooms.”

Y/n spit out her water causing Luke to look up from his phone, slightly chuckling, “You what?”

“So is this what you guys do all the time before practice?”

“Rehearsal. And if by ‘this’ you mean sitting around and talking about the band drama, yes.”

“Am I allowed to be let in on it or is it strictly like ‘band kids’ only.”

One of y/n’s friends looked at him, “Don’t call us band kids. And of course, you can join us. Any friend of our dear y/n is welcome.”

Y/n glared at the girl as she heard Luke moving closer. Luke felt bold as he wrapped an arm around the girl’s waist, watching as her eyes widened. She didn’t say anything, didn’t move, she just sat there slightly terrified. She looked in between her friends who smirked at her in response. Luke sat there smug, waiting for them to start talking, “So. What’s this about who and who had sex in the practice rooms?”

✧༺✎༻∞

Luke could honestly say this was the longest he had willingly gone without his phone, including hockey practice. He had sat in the stands the whole time, eyes trained on y/n no matter where she went. If she was backfield, that’s where he would be staring, if she was on the left side of the field, that’s where he would be staring.

He watched as she grew increasingly tired from the multiple reps of just one move they made them do, he honestly thought he could do it himself at this point. He was in awe, really, he never knew how much time and effort the band put in to do a seven-minute show for people who didn’t care about it. Everyone looked exhausted and he wasn’t sure if they were just done with band or just actually tired, or both.

There was one moment during rehearsal when he saw y/n lug herself over to where the band directors were and talk with them. A minute after that he watched as she took a seat on the bench and watched her fellow band members. He was confused and worried, wanting nothing more than to walk over there and ask her what was wrong but he promised her that he wouldn’t interrupt her no matter what.

She was embarrassed, she had felt his eyes on her the whole time. She didn’t know why he wanted to be here, it gave her an unfamiliar feeling in her stomach, one of feeling important for once. Her friends made little nudges and jokes at her for the three hours they were on the field, only shutting up when they were yelled at. When they were talking at the end of rehearsal, she couldn’t help but continue to look over at him, causing her to be startled when she realized she was picked to give the speech today.

“Hi everyone! Um, good rehearsal tonight, this season has been absolutely amazing and I hope you all feel the same way. I don’t think there’s anything else to say other than tomorrow is game day!” She paused as everyone whooped around her, “And we have our competition on Saturday so let’s make these next few runs of the show our best, and let’s go home because I’m tired.”

They all listened as the band directors gave their final announcements, call time for Friday and Saturday, the itinerary, and whatnot. When it was over, Luke met her at the entrance of the gate and reached out to take something of hers but she shook her head, “I’m good, thank you though.”

He awkwardly pulled his hands back and nodded, walking beside her into the school, “Are you sure your brother is okay with taking me home? I don’t want to inconvenience you guys and Stella said it was okay to take me home.”

He shook his head, “Of course, you can. You’re not inconveniencing anyone. I promise.”

She gave him a genuine smile, “Thank you, Luke.”

“Anytime.”

She put her things away, saying goodbye to her friends before walking out of the school with Luke. They stood at the entrance, Luke trying to spot his brother’s car, and when he did he turned to her, “Just give me one moment.”

She nodded, confusion written on her face as she watched him run over to the car.

“Hey, I thought we were taking your girlfriend home.”

“One, not my girlfriend. And two, can you please not embarrass me or her? She’s really uncomfortable around new people.”

Jack could see the way his younger brother was panicking, “Yeah, sure.”

Luke thanked him and then ran back over to y/n, taking hold of her hand and dragging her to the car. He opened up the back passenger side door and allowed her to climb in, him climbing in after her. She looked between him and the front seat, “I thought you would’ve sat up there.”

“Trust me, I know how awkward it is to ride in the back of someone’s car when you only know one person.”

The car was silent for a minute, y/n trying to think of something to say besides directing Jack to her house. She figured she should probably say thank you to him even though everything else in her was yelling at her not to. She was never the best at making conversation with people, let alone with people she didn’t know.

“Thank you for taking me home, I’m sorry it was such a last-minute thing.”

Jack glanced up at her through the rearview mirror, “No problem, honestly.”

She gave him an awkward smile, nodding and redirecting her gaze to outside the car window. Luke’s hand slowly made its way over to her lap as he took ahold of her hand again. She didn’t move her head, simply just squeezing his hand back as a thank you.

When they got to her house, she thanked Jack once again before getting out of the car. Luke jumped out and told his brother to wait for him as he went to talk to her, “Hey!”

She stopped in her tracks at the voice and turned around, arms coming to wrap themselves around her as she shivered from the cold, “What’s up?”

“I’m going tomorrow.”

“To where?”

“You’re game.”

Her cheeks reddened at the confession, “It’s not my game.”

He threw his head back and groaned, “You know what I mean.”

She giggled a little, “Yeah. You don’t have to Luke, I mean you came to our practice which was more than enough for me. You didn’t even have to come for that.”

He took both of her hands this time into his own, “I know but I really want to. Pleaseeeeee.”

“Okay fine. But no complaining again.”

“Aye aye, captain.”

He saluted her as she walked up the steps to her door, making sure she got in okay before even thinking of turning back to the car. On the way home, Jack made digs at his brother for being whipped for the girl he had only known for a little more than a week. When it went quiet for two minutes, Luke mulled over the idea of her competition on Saturday and what she had told him.

“Do you think Mom and Dad would let me go to y/n’s competition on Saturday?”

“Depends on where it is.” Jack turned onto their street, not even bothering to glance at him until he said where it was.

“Michigan?!”

“What? It’s not that far.”

“Dude it’s three hours!”

“Okay, but we can see Quinn too.”

Jack eyed him carefully, “You can ask them but don’t expect a yes.”

✧༺✎༻∞

“Can we please go?”

“Luke.” Ellen’s tone was sympathetic but stern as she talked to him, “We can’t just drive three hours, especially on this short notice to a band competition. I mean we haven’t even met this girl, have we?”

“No, but. I figured we could make a little trip out of it! We can see Quinn and you guys can hang out with him while I’m there so that way you don’t have to sit through bands because I know for a fact that you don’t want to. And plus, I know you haven’t met her but she’s super nice, Mom.”

Ellen looked conflicted but Luke’s next words broke her heart and tipped her over the edge, “She has no one going to support her.”

“Fine, we can go. But this is the last time you can ask us for stuff for a while.”

“What?!”

The three laughed as they heard Jack’s shocked voice echo through the house.

✧༺✎༻∞

Luke sat happily with a few of his friends at the football game, two sweatshirts on due to the cold. The stands were packed with parents and students and siblings as they cheered on their football team, yelling out random chants at the other team. There was a clashing of colors as some of the rival school’s people made their way over to their side of the stands. On the opposite side of the field, the opposing team’s student section was packed to the brim, almost filling up half of the stands.

He sat on the edge of the student section, right where there was caution tape separating the band and the rest of the student population. He had glanced over there a few times, trying to find y/n but he had no look. Finally, when someone he knew was close enough he yelled out her name, “Stella!”

Stella, one of y/n’s friends turned her head quickly and her eyes immediately landed on Luke, “Hi, Luke. What brings you to this fine occasion?”

“Where’s y/n?”

Stella somewhat grimaced, “Last I heard she wasn’t feeling well and was on her way to the bathroom.”

Luke’s eyes flooded with concern, “Is she okay?”

She merely shrugged and went to say something but one of her friends came up and joined the conversation, “Hey guys!”

The two-eyed Lee who was frankly too happy to be at a high school football game, “Have you seen y/n?”

“Oh yeah! She was getting some water, and said she felt better. I think she was coming up-”

“Hi.”

The three then looked at the girl who stood awkwardly, her hair sweaty in her high ponytail from being in the shako for too long. She looked paler than normal, her eyes looked tired and were accompanied by the dark circles beneath them, “I didn’t actually think you would come.”

He stood up, looking around him before climbing over the caution tape, “Of course I did.”

Stella and Lee walked off, leaving the two to talk amongst themselves, “Are you okay?”

“Oh yeah, I just get nervous for games and get extremely drained.”

He nodded, watching as she flipped through her music to find the song they were supposed to be playing the next time they were able to play, “What’s that?”

“It’s my flip folder, it holds all of our stand tunes that we play during timeouts or between quarters or whenever the play stops. How come you're so interested all of a sudden?”

“I was just curious.” He held his hands up in surrender and she laughed, “Such a dork.”

Throughout the game, Luke listened to her play in awe, he could tell her voice was becoming more and more horse as she screamed and cheered. He didn’t realize how much the band actually contributed during games, they definitely did more than the student section did, that was for sure. When they left for halftime, she made Luke hold her things which he didn’t mind doing.

He watched their performance intently, his eyes moving to wherever y/n was standing. He realized that most people had left during halftime, especially during the band’s performance and he couldn’t understand why. The band was pretty good, definitely better than their football team. When they were done, he watched as she somewhat stumbled off the field, not sure if she was tired, excited, or sick.

She was hugging her friend's arm tightly, “I can’t believe that was our last halftime of the year.”

“Hey, we still got three more years of this left.”

“Ugh, I know. Don’t remind me.”

“So how’s your little boyfriend up there?”

Y/n’s eyes widened, “Not my boyfriend!”

“Okay, seriously, y/n/n. When was the last time you saw anybody’s boyfriend or girlfriend or partner that wasn’t in band go to a football game, let alone a practice?” She merely shrugged, wanting nothing more than to stop this conversation.

“When you realize I’m right, I’ll be waiting to say ‘I told you so’.”

She groaned, “Stop. Please. I just want to enjoy the friendship, I haven’t had one like this in years.”

“Okay.”

✧༺✎༻∞

After the game she found Luke standing on the steps to the school. She was shocked, she thought he would’ve already gone home due to the time. She sat down beside him and nudged his shoulder, “Hey.”

Luke looked up quickly, a smile making its way onto his face, “Hi.”

“What are you still doing here?”

“Partially I’m waiting for you but also I have to wait for Jack or my mom.”

She nodded, understanding. She was too tired to care that her head was slowly leaning to one side, ultimately giving up and letting it rest on his shoulder. Luke was shocked by the added pressure on his shoulder but didn’t mind it, truthfully.

He smiled down at her and looked for the car, “How are you getting home?”

She let out a yawn as she tried to answer, “I don’t know.”

Luke looked at her bewildered, “You don’t know?!”

She nodded, still keeping her head on his shoulder, “Yeah.”

“You want us to take you home?”

“No, I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“Too bad. You’re coming with us.”

This time she didn’t protest and just waited for him to say that whoever was here to pick him up was here. Luke debated on whether or not to tell her that he was going to go tomorrow. He decided to be quiet, formulating a plan on how to surprise her tomorrow. His mom pulled up a few minutes later, watching as he soon lightly shook the girl who was leaning on him awake.

Luke helped y/n to the car, allowing her to get in first like he did the previous night, “Hi Mrs. Hughes. I’m y/n. I’m so sorry about this, I wasn’t planning on your son being so persistent about taking me home.”

At this Ellen chuckled, “Of course he was. It’s no problem, honey.”

Y/n directed Ellen to her house, making small talk with her as a way to keep her awake, “So, Luke tells me you have a competition tomorrow.”

She side-eyed Luke before answering, “Yeah, at the University of Michigan. It’s kind of like state for band I guess.”

Ellen nodded, “Did Luke tell you we are going there too this weekend?”

“No, he did not.”

“Yes, well, his older brother goes there and we figured it would be nice to go visit him.”

“Oh that’s cool, I didn’t know that.”

She pulled into the driveway a few minutes after that and the two said goodbye to one another and Luke, like last night, walked her to the door, “Why didn’t you tell me you were going there?”

“I was going to surprise you actually.”

She looked at him suspiciously, “Well, if you have time, let me know and you should come see us.”

“Are you telling me to come watch you guys?” He said teasingly.

“Just this once.”

“I’ll be there.”

✧༺✎༻∞

At the stadium the next day, y/n had found Luke after they performed and they sat together as they watched the rest of the bands perform and the awards. Despite having just done a 7-minute show in her band uniform, she was cold and her sweatshirt provided the least amount of warmth.

Luckily, Luke had brought an extra sweatshirt and a blanket just for this, knowing how much she got cold. She took it gratefully, wasting no time in throwing it on. Luke asked her questions about certain things in the others’ performances, what songs they were, and what moves they were doing. At one point they got bored and started writing in different show names in the programs for each band.

When awards came around, she was getting increasingly tired, “I have a question.”

“Go for it.”

“Do you wanna meet my family?”

Y/n looked at him with wide eyes, “Meet your what?”

“My family. Well, you’ve already met Jack and my mom but Quinn and my dad you haven’t.”

“Luke…”

“What?”

She held tears in her eyes as she thought over his words. Luke frowned when he noticed the tears, “What’s wrong?”

“Luke, we've only known each other for what? A week and a half at best?”

“Yeah…?”

“I guess, I just don’t understand why you want me to meet them.”

“Because you’re amazing. And like you said, I know I’ve only known you for a week and a half, but you are truly one of the best friends, if not the best friend, I have ever had. You’re talented, smart, funny, and I love spending time with you.”

She looked at him shocked, not knowing what to say. No one had said this to her before, and if they had it wasn’t to this extent. Luke was truly perfect in her opinion, he was nice, charming, funny, cute, supportive, and he was everything she would ever want. However, she knew him liking her was never a possibility, she had to push that to the back of her mind, the furthest away.

She gave him an awkward smile, unsure of how this conversation was going to continue. She was still taken aback by his previous confession, about wanting to meet his family. She loved her family, she really did, but Luke’s family sounded amazing, like heaven. She hadn’t felt a part of her family in months, maybe she would feel like family with his. That thought seemed to be a bit much, she didn’t think she would fit in with anyone, it was by pure luck that she found Luke.

When the two had sat in silence for five minutes, Luke gave her a little shove, “Hey. Everything okay?” The desperate want to ask her what was going on in her beautiful mind was bugging him, he wanted to reach out and push the stray hair out of her face, wipe away her tears, and pull her into a death-gripping hug.

She only nodded, using the sleeve of his her sweatshirt to wipe away the stray tear that had made its way down her face. Luke had felt his face permanently stuck in a worried look when he was around her and this moment wasn’t any different. Just when he was about to say something, the announcer rang out through the speakers, “And with that, it is time for our awards! Thank you to everyone who came out and let’s get this started with class single A!”

She turned to face the field, ignoring Luke’s eyes that she felt glaring at her on the side of her head. She listened to the awards, little to no thoughts running through her head until they got to their division. They went through the typical awards you get at every competition, best drum major, best visual, best general effect, etc., before getting into placement awards.

While she wasn’t expecting them to place in general with all the schools that were there, she was a little heartbroken when they didn’t get third or second. All of them knew that there was no possible way that they could get first, they were hopeful, sure, but realistic even more. So when they announced their high school not only first but as grand champion, everyone from the school was ecstatic.

Luke immediately brought her into a hug, not even thinking. He was so proud of her, and the rest of them, but mostly her. She grinned when she felt his arms wrap around her, not even bothering to be embarrassed. She hugged him back with the same amount of strength that he gave her.

They met up with Luke’s family outside the stadium, she was now tired, the day’s events finally catching up with her. Luke had to wrap an arm around her to keep her upright as they walked to the car. Ellen greeted the girl with a smile as she stepped out of the car and opened her arms for a hug. Y/n was taken aback, she had met this woman two days ago and she was now just giving her a hug so easily.

She hugged her back nonetheless, “How was the competition, sweetheart?”

“It was good. We won grand champions.”

“Oh honey, that’s incredible! I’m sorry we couldn’t make it.”

She shrugged it off, she was used to her family not showing up and she hadn’t even met the whole family properly so why would she think they would, “It’s okay.”

“Well, we’re going out to dinner if you want to come, maybe? I know Luke said that your way back is with the rest of the kids but we are more than happy to take you home ourselves.”

Her eyes widened at the position, “Are you sure? I don’t want to be a-”

“Shush. You’re not a burden, y/n/n.” Luke’s hand squeezed her shoulder as a way of reassuring her.

“Okay then. I guess Luke’s going to kidnap me anyway.”

“Damn right, I am,” Luke mumbled but Ellen still caught it, smacking him on the arm.

Y/n grinned as she watched the interaction, trying to stifle a laugh. Luke rolled his eyes and opened the back door, “Y/n/n you already know Jack but this is my eldest brother Quinn.”

She gave him a small wave, the nerves presenting themselves once again. Quinn waved back, giving her a smile, “And this is my dad.”

“Hi, Mr. Hughes.”

Jim turned to her and smiled much like his son, “Hi.”

The two climbed into the car, sitting in the back. Her head immediately found its place on his shoulder, drifting off to the sound of the family softly talking as they drove to wherever they were heading to. Luke smiled down at her, and in that moment, it made Luke realize more than ever that he wanted to be there for her forever.

✧༺✎༻∞

Throughout their high school years, Luke went to every football game he could manage to go to, every competition he could, every practice he could, even going to the few basketball games she had to perform at. Junior year, he drove himself to her competition at the University of Michigan, being able to drive them back home without having to worry about his parents.

Luke wasn’t the only one who showed up. The Hughes family had taken a liking to her ever since they met her and Ellen and Jim had practically adopted her from the moment they took her home from the competition freshman year. Jack tagged along with Luke to the games when he was still in high school, sometimes Ellen and Jim would show up too. They all went to their graduation not only for Luke but for y/n as well, it’s rumored that they cheered louder for her than for Luke.

Luke asked her out a month after asking her to homecoming. Everyone said his homecoming and prom proposals were a force to be reckoned with. He always had a way to surprise her and upstage everyone. In sophomore year for homecoming, he got the band to play ‘hey baby’ and he asked her with a poster that said ‘hey baby. I wanna know if you’ll be my date to Hoco.’ Junior year for prom he got a punch of hockey pucks and spelled out ‘Prom?’.

On the flip side, y/n had made it her mission to support Luke just as much as he supported her. She went to practically every game of his, cheering him on whether or not he got a goal, assist, or just sat on the bench. She wore his sweatshirts at every game, which most of them had belonged to her at that point anyway. Admittedly, there were a few times when Quinn or Jack’s hoodies made their way into the pile because Luke had “accidentally” stolen them from them.

Much like they were there for her, y/n was also there for Jack and Quinn. She was at Quinn’s draft because they had all but begged her to come and the same with Jack. That was the first time she felt part of the family. She would go with them to UMich when they would go see Quinn. She spent the majority of her time with them since that weekend.

They went to University of Michigan together, where they both continued to give each other their unwavering support. He went to ‘her’ football games and she went to his hockey games, the ones that she was not performing at, which were her favorites, and Luke’s as well. When Luke realized that she would be playing at his games he had been so excited. Every time he got a goal when she was there with the band, he would point over to her and her friends would fawn over their relationship.

She was there for his draft, sitting right next to him but out of the way so he could celebrate with his brothers. She was there for the playoff games once she had finished school and he was overjoyed by her being there. As much as she wanted to be there for his debut and for his rookie season, Luke made her stay at school, not even so much as allowing her to think about it.

Long distance for them was hard, but they made it work. When they were in Detroit or Columbus, she would drive to see him play. Over winter break, she would fly out to Jersey to spend her time with him. Luke took it harder than she did, to be honest. She was used to being alone in some sort of way, her experiences and feelings with her family had not gone away. But for Luke, it was a different story.

Sure he had his brother there by his side but his best friend, his girlfriend, his world wasn’t there beside him like she had been for the past four years. It was a different dynamic not being able to see her in the stands, not being able to celebrate with her after games or pig out on food at a restaurant after practice, not being able to curl up next to her when they lost or he was in a slump.

After she graduated, she moved out to Jersey with him, knowing that she would follow him anywhere. Luke was grateful but hesitant at first, not wanting to alter any of her plans. She insisted and said he had done so much for her that this was the least she could do to repay him. Luke asked her to marry him a year later and he incorporated his two favorite proposals of all time.

He gathered a shit ton of pucks to spell out “Will You Marry Me?” on a football field and got a marching band, who in hindsight y/n had no clue how he got in the first place, to play ‘Hey Baby’ as he gave her his speech. She was crying within seconds and Luke knew she would too. Ellen and Jim walked her down the aisle since she was no longer in contact with her own family.

There were a multitude of things that changed with them, a multitude of fights that they got into, but one thing never changed. The way were each other’s support systems, and they would be forever and ever.

✧༺✎༻∞

✎ BONUS ⇘ : :

Luke was nervous, it had been creeping up on a year since he met y/n and 11 months since he realized he liked her. They had been flirting like teenagers because they were, but it was a sight to see, to say the least. Everyone had said they acted like a couple and accused the two of liking each other but every time the two brushed off the accusations like they were nothing.

Now he was sitting with some of her friends and one of the drum majors to explain his plan. This was his only chance to do it, they only had one game before homecoming and it happened to be two weeks before the homecoming game. He would’ve done it earlier but he needed everything to be perfect, and plus, y/n hated dress shopping anyway so she would probably just order something from Amazon or pull something out of the back of the closet.

Her friends agreed instantly, claiming they hadn’t seen their friend be so happy and giggly in a long time. So when the time came around, he was dressed in whatever the theme was for the game. He looked a little crazy but that was him, and y/n loved that side of him. His poster included her favorite colors and doodles, the words were as straight as they were going to get.

It was in between the first and second quarter and the drum major had told them they were playing ‘Hey Baby’ and everyone except for y/n was on edge, wanting this to be perfect. When it started, she noticed nothing different, everyone was clapping but when they started singing, she noticed everyone’s tone was happier.

She felt a nudge to her side and she looked up, noticing Luke now standing on the drum major podium, his poster high above his head, “Y/n! Will you go to homecoming with me?!”

She stared at him with wide eyes, embarrassment flooding her whole body. Everyone looked at her expectantly and cheered when she said yes. When he got down, he made his way over to her, everyone clapping him on the back.

“You are crazy, Luke Hughes.”

“Crazy for you.” She pushed his head away from her and laughed, “Dork.”

𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

if your name is crossed out it means i couldn't tag you

#sunny lune writes #luke hughes #lh43 #luke hughes x reader #nj devils #hockey nhl

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number1mingyustan · 6 months

Text

Mad Love ☾

boyfriend!hoshi x fem!reader

Warnings: kissing, cursing, explicit smut, alcohol consumption, established relationship, drunk sex, mirror sex, fingering (f.), marking, choking, rough sex, multiple orgasms, squirting, creampie, unprotected sex, cum eating, pwp

Summary: His girl, his Harley, his everything and so much more

Word Count: 2k

_______________________________________________

(a/n: i’m really trying to be active y’all 😞 i hate that i can’t post as much)

Your boyfriend has spent the past nearly 10 minutes looking for you. The house is crowded with people and he’s entirely too drunk to distinguish you from the other girls crowding the space.

He’s stumbling around looking for your pigtails but to no avail. He’s getting frustrated and he knows there’s no point in trying to call you because of how loud it is.

He’s not even entirely sure when the two of you got separated either. You walked inside hand in hand and he remembers downing shots with you in the living room. Everything after that is a bit of a blur.

He pushes past a group of people and spots a familiar pair of pigtails standing in front of him. A smile spreads widely across his face and he approaches you enthusiastically.

His Harley.

He calls out to you when he’s close enough for you to hear him. You turn around, returning his smile with a drunk grin.

“Soonyoung!” You call out. “I missed you baby.”

You open your arms, reaching out to him and falling into his arms. He barely manages to catch you, stumbling over himself a bit as he tries to support both of your weights.

“I’ve been looking all over for you,” he slurs. He’s so loud in your ear, competing against the music blasting in the house.

“I told you I was gonna be right here. I asked you if you wanted to dance and you told me no, so I told you I was gonna come in here and dance with my friends."

The conversation sounds vaguely familiar now that you're mentioning it.

"Sorry, I forgot," he mumbles, pulling your body closer to his. His hands are on your waist securely. You lean into his touch easily.

You stare up at him with half lidded and lust filled eyes. "Soonyoung..."

"Yeah pretty girl?" He licks his lips.

"I really meant it when I said I missed you," You whisper, just loud enough for him to hear you.

"Was only gone for like 20 minutes," He mumbles. His fingers play with the hem of your shorts.

He stumbles a bit, lazily leaning his body closer against yours. You hold him, cupping his cheek with your hand softly.

“Missed you so much,” You whisper into his ear.

His hands grip your waist and he pulls you impossibly closer. Your bodies are pressed filmy again one another and there’s no space separating you.

But close doesn’t feel close enough.

You press your chest against his, smirking when his eyes drop down to your breasts. He can’t help it, the costume you’re wearing has them practically on full display.

You can feel the heat radiating from his body and it makes you want to be even closer to him. You want to feel him, all of him.

“Soonyoung,” You whisper.

“Yeah baby?” His hazy eyes meet yours.

“Can we go?”

You hardly have time to finish your question before he’s grabbing your hand and pulling you through the crowd. He holds your hand firmly, ensuring not to lose sight of you again as he navigates the crowd.

He pulls you behind him, leading you toward the bathroom. The doors opens and he presses you up against the sink before kicking to door closed with his foot.

Your back meets the sink and his lips are on yours in record time. The kiss is sloppy and messy due to a mix of your drunkness and eagerness for one another.

He slips his tongue into your mouth, deepening and intensifying the kiss as his hands desperately roam your body. He’s squeezing and rubbing at every inch of your skin he can grasp, desperate to feel you in any way he can.

You break the kiss momentarily, breathing heavily and allowing your eyes to open. Soonyoung leans into again, attempting to kiss you but you pull back slightly. He frowns and opens his eyes.

“The door,” You breathe out.

“What?” Soonyoung turns his head to the closed bathroom door.

“Lock it, don’t want any interruptions.”

He groans, pulling away from you to lock the bathroom door. His hands are on you again in no time.

His lips attach to your neck, sucking until he sees the bruises form on your skin. He dips his have into the waistband of your shorts.

You tilt your head back, leaning further back against the sink. His head his still buried in the crook of your neck as his fingers slip past your panties.

You let out a soft moan when his fingers start circling your clit.

“Shit,” You whisper.

Soonyoung is anything but slow in his movements. He swiftly pulls your shorts and underwear down to your knees before pressing his thumb against your clit.

You’re already dripping, arousal lubricating his fingers and making it easy to slip inside of you. You pull him by his hair harshly, tangling your fingers into his green stained strands.

He slips his middle and ring fingers into you with ease, pumping quickly to have you mewling his name pathetically. He curls his fingers inside of you perfectly and his pace never falters.

Everything is so sloppy and filthy. The wet squelches of his fingers pumping into you echo inside of the cramped bathroom.

Your head is tilted back and your mouth agape as he skillfully pleasures you with his fingers. You can’t help but be loud, moaning and crying his name like a chant.

You’re chasing your high, pushing your hips into his fingers as he fucks them into you. You’re still holding him closely as you use his fingers to get you off.

A loud knock on the door suddenly startles you both, however your boyfriend is determined to make you squirt on his fingers and he’s not going to let anything distract him from doing so.

“Fuck off!” He slurs, curling his fingers inside of you. You whimper, legs feeling weak from the stimulation.

The knock turns into a bang on the door and Soonyoung rolls his eyes. “People have to use the bathroom you know!” The person calls from the other side of the door.

He pulls away from you slightly, eyes glued down to where you and his fingers meet. He uses his free hand to draw quick circles on your clit as he continues pumping his fingers into you.

“That’s why I’m fucking using it!” He slurs, shouting back at the angry person on the other side of the door.

You’re falling apart moments later. Your body is overtaken by pleasure and you cum all over his fingers. It’s messy, but he doesn’t let up. He fingers your through it, only retracting his fingers enough to let you squirt all over him.

Your legs are tingling and your ears are ringing as your orgasm courses through your body. He’s thorough in fucking your through it, completely withdrawing his fingers once you’ve come down from the intense orgasm.

“Asshole,” he mumbles.

The knocking on the door has finally ceased and your head feels a lot clearer now that you’re coming down from your high.

Soonyoung looks down at the mess you’ve made and licks his lips slowly. “You good?”

Instead of providing him with a verbal response, you simply pull him in by the belt hanging on his waist. He looks so fucking good right now.

His costume is simple, yet effective. A pair of ripped black jeans and a belt. A long sleeve purple button up that he made no attempt to actually button. His chest is decorated in temporary tattoos with a green tie hanging loosely.

You begin undoing his belt wordlessly before dropping his pants to his ankles. You’re practically drooling at the sight of his hard cock in his underwear.

“Want more.” You tell him.

“Yeah?” he smirks.

You nod, pulling his underwear down and exposing his hard, leaking cock. A shiver courses through your body at the mere thought of getting fucked.

He doesn’t give you much time to fantasize because he immediately grips your waist, turning your around and pressing you against the bathroom sink.

You can’t see it, but you feel the weight of his cock dragging against your ass, sliding down and teasing against your hole before he pushes in with no warning.

His hips meet your ass as his hand travels up your throat and squeezes just enough to have your eyes rolling back. His eyes shift from where the two of you meet to the mirror reflecting the filthy scene.

He uses his other hand to snake around your front, pulling your top down and fully exposing your breasts. He watches you in the mirror, eyes trained on the way your face contorts with pleasure as he fucks you from behind.

Your back is arched perfectly and as much as he wants to snap a picture, the reflection in the mirror will have to do for now.

“Watch,” he tells you.

Your eyes are screwed shut and your mind is hazy once again.

“H-huh?”

He uses the hand around your throat to tilt your head down, forcing you to look at the reflection in front of you. Your legs nearly give out at the sight in front of you.

“Watch.” he demands.

You can’t think straight. The feeling of him drilling into you was already intense enough. Watching yourself get fucked as he looks at you with lust and determination from behind takes things to and entirely new level.

He doesn’t break eye contact with you through the mirror. Your legs feel like jello and your body is overwhelmed with pleasure.

“F-Fuck Soonyoung, I can’t. ‘M gonna cum again,” you cry out.

It’s so intense. Something about the alcohol coursing through your veins has made you call the more sensitive. His cock is ramming into you at an inhuman pace and your body is struggling to keep up yet you’re craving for more.

A breath gets caught in your throat and you feel weak in the knees.

“Close—‘m close baby,” He groans. His grip on your waist and the counter tightening, and you feel his nails digging into your skin. He leans over, chest meeting your back as he drills into you deeper from behind. A particularly hard thrust makes you whimper out his name so defeatedly it tips him right over the edge. “Oh fuck—shit, where do I cum? Tell me, tell me, ah.”

“Inside.” You rasp out. “Inside please.”

He’s the one forgetting how to breathe now. A breath gets caught in his throat and a few more erratic thrusts had him pumping his hot release into you. His hips come to a complete stop and you feel him painting your inner walls white.

He breathes out. “Shit.”

He leans his back against the wall and you hold onto the sink for support. You're both breathing heavily, minds hazy and bodies overwhelmed as you slowly tap back into your five senses.

He pulls out of you slowly, watching your releases drip from your spent hole. You cringe at the feeling of yourself leaking.

He’s quick to plug you back up, fingers gathering the substance from your thighs and pushing it back into your sensitive hole. Your body jerks from overstimulation, but he holds you still and pushes his fingers deep inside of you.

You whine, fighting against him but his grip is too strong. He holds you still, pushing his cum further inside of you. You’re so sensitive, the stimulation is bringing you to tears.

It’s pathetic how much you’re writhing against him right now. Once satisfied, he withdraws his fingers and sucks on them before turning you back around.

His eyes meet your teary ones. He strokes your cheek and kisses your tears away. “Sorry baby, can’t let anything go to waste. You understand right?”

You nod slowly, leaning forward and planting a kiss on his lips.

“It wasn’t too much for you, was it?” He asks, voice laced with genuinity.

You shake your head slowly. ‘“M okay.”

He licks his lips against slowly and nods. “Okay baby, let’s get you home then yeah? We can turn on a scary movie and cuddle until we fall asleep. Sound good?”

“Yeah,” You smile. “Sounds good.”

_______________________________________________

#seventeen smut #seventeen #seventeen fanfic #seventeen drabbles #hoshi svt #svt hoshi #kwon hoshi #hoshi x reader #hoshi smut #hoshi kwon #seventeen hoshi #hoshi fanfic #hoshi seventeen #kwon soonyoung #soonyoung x reader #kpop

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fanofseabassanddorito · 4 months

Text

Dear Chris Evans,

I’ve waited and watched. I’ve gone back and forth with Real vs PR. I’m just a fan, of your work, but I also because of what you seemed to stand for and acted like a real person. I think I’m done now.

There has been questionable ‘sightings’ even though you claim to want to be private. Your friends and hers have posted the two of you. You have posted her twice yourself. But then you seem to hide her. That isn’t a good look. If you are in love with someone, you don’t hide them because you want to be private yet leak photos and hints to keep your fans spiraling when you know how some can be.

We all know celebrities use social media for what they WANT fans to see. Why? Because they want privacy, as they should, to separate their work world from real life. I completely agree with doing so, BUT I don’t agree with going back and forth. You owe fans nothing except maybe the respect that goes both ways. After all, your fans have been the reason you have your paychecks. I think we deserve a little bit of respect not to be played by what you say in interviews vs. what you show yourself to be through your actions.

There are so many examples of couples being private but NOT hiding significant others like they are embarrassed to be seen. A real private couple does things together but do not post montages on their socials, like scare videos and couples pictures. People do not call paparazzi unless they want to be seen. A real private couple does still go to things together, they don’t hide but they don’t bring attention to themselves. Real private couples do not let things drop during a special date for something else. One example, the NYC pap walk on the day that Warrior Nun season 2 dropped right after SMA.

Tabloids run on things they are given. There have been more articles about you and this girl than Harry and Meghan, Jennifer and Ben, etc., etc., etc. your reps have never confirmed anything. IMDb does not list her as your wife. Your mother liked a tweet about the girl being racist.

I had no issues at first, thinking you wanted privacy, which I thought was a great idea, given your fandom. I gave you the benefit of the doubt for a good while. But then it seemed like her friends and yours, her mom, along with the likes on IG, proved this isn’t private. Certain social media sites have been the only ones to randomly get these pictures that are nowhere to be found. It’s only a few, and they usually come at specific times when there is doubt. Friends posted from Lisbon, Avengers in MA, and the wedding rumors began. I’m sorry, but when there is an NDA, then the wedding news should not have leaked because the NDA would cover that. And if you have to ask people to turn in their phones to attend, that’s rude and you’ve invited people you don’t trust.

Showing up to a convention, with a ring on but you can’t say her name. Just ‘Go Portugal!’ And then go on about Dodger.

Let’s not even get into photoshopped or not photoshopped because I don’t even know anymore.

I could go on and on but it saddens me. I cannot be a fan of someone just because of their projects, and that’s just me. I have kept quiet, because it’s none of my business what you do with your life. What is my business though, is who I give my hard earned money to. Barely getting by on what I make, medications and food for my kids continue to rise in cost, but they also enjoy Captain America because he seemed like a good guy in real life too. Now they come to me with things they’ve seen online like Captain America’s new wife nude in the shower. They have seen people posting about her friends and their previous tweets, and things they’ve said. Why? Because you have played games with your fandom and they got pissed and exposed things. Let’s be honest, kids get online and see things even if they aren’t supposed to. Luckily they didn’t see your ‘slip’ up, because your fans cleaned that for you quickly, but the shower pictures continue to be passed around. They also said in some of the pictures they saw you post that they thought you had a daughter but found out it was your girlfriend.

I would make sure you don’t have any more slip ups because I feel like your fans are limited at this point. The ones that see your work the day it comes out. That’s one reason why Ghosted flopped. Before this, your fans would have said you did wonderful even if you didn’t.

After the new picture of the two of you at the Globes after party, I CHOOSE to not be a fan and hand you my money. I know it isn’t much, but I will choose to spend it on a different movie or person at a convention. Maybe I just won’t have a favorite anymore because it seems like a lot just tell fans what they want to hear.

I don’t know if it’s Real or PR and don’t care but it’s the game you seem to be playing that I don’t like. I don’t care what people think of my opinion and have not posted anything about a side. I just know you look like such a hypocrite and lose fans by the hour now. So many blogs and pages that are team PR or Team Real and they argue over who is right and wrong, because you and everyone around you are playing with them. You are using them for free publicity and that is sickening. I didn’t believe it was happening and you were just trying to protect your love life. But, eventually, it was just so obvious with the tiniest bit of things creeping in on the same sites and coincidences on dates. Mostly, I just don’t want to watch all the drama that has become part of being your fan. I like to escape the real world by looking at my favorite celebrities and what they are up to or their movies etc. I don’t want to see the gross mess you have become. She looks like your daughter, so I choose to leave. You don’t know me or care because I’m just one fan, but I do know who you want people to see you as now and I don’t like this version. Be private or just don’t hide. Look happy, not miserable. Treat her like your love and wife, because I would never allow my boyfriend/husband treat me the way it appears you are treating her. To the public, she looks like a mail order bride that jumps as soon as you tell her too. It’s gross.

So, it’s been a long, fun ride being your fan until now. Enjoy traveling back and forth and wear sunscreen to the beach, because boy are you white. Research the word ‘privacy’ and maybe get those NDA’s to the people leaking things if you want privacy or take their phones from them when they are in your proximity. Invest in energy drinks next, she’s a lot younger and likes to travel and have sex (maybe check out her soft porn). Let Buddah know she did a film with a demon having sex with her. Maybe purchase a plane and get a pilots license, because older dogs don’t travel as well as they age and that’s a long ride to Portugal. Remind your wife to keep her clothes on and keep your 🍆 in your pants because I think Team Real is even over this mess and don’t want to see it. Thanks for the laughs and smiles over the years. I wish you luck and hope you’re happier than you actually look.

Sincerely,

An Ex-Fan of Christopher Robert Evans

#Chris Evans #chrisevans #albabaptista #Chris and Alba #Chris Evans and Alba Baptista #Christopher Robert Evans

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months

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Blurred Lines 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, power imbalance, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your relationship with your boss takes an unpredictable turn.

Characters: Nick Fowler

Note: some more Nicky for the girlies.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Back to usual.

You say goodbye to Joey with an especially clingy hug. She’ll be gone back to campus by the time you get home. Her short visits always leave you a bit sad.

You arrive at Nick’s place and let yourself in. The remnants of the prior day’s get together are still littered over the dining room table and throughout the front room. There’s more in the kitchen.

You gather the empty glasses and a few bottles with varying amounts of liquid still inside. You scrape plates into the pin and sweep napkins in after them. You fill the sink with warm soapy water to wash it all when you hear the soft but clumsy pad of feet on the stairs. They’re too light to be Nick.

You have the coffee brewing in anticipation of your boss’ hangover. The aroma wafts into the air as the machine clicks. A figure appears in the doorway and you turn to greet the woman in her sleek but wrinkled dress. This isn’t unexpected either.

“Good morning,” you greet her stunned eyes as she blanches.

“Um, I’m sorry, I was only–”

“Coffee?” You offer her as you open the cupboard, “look like you need it.”

“N-no, I… should go. Is there a Starbucks around here?” She croaks.

“No need, I can do lattes,” you offer, “he’s got this ridiculously expensive machine.”

“Er,” she looks down at the heels dangling from her hand then back to you, “sorry, are you… do you live…”

“I work for Mr. Fowler. Just the maid,” you assure her. Her assumption fills your chest with an unspent laugh. You’re far too old for Nick. Besides, the concept is ridiculous.

“Oh…” her single syllable dangles.

You pour her a cup and turn to offer it to her. Her mouth slants in a guilty smile. She shambles forward and accepts the mug.

“You take sugar, cream? Maybe some Advil?” You suggest.

“Oat milk? And yes please, my head is pounding.”

“Right, he has almond milk,” you open another cupboard and pluck out the ibuprofen, “or whole milk.”

“Almond is fine,” she accepts as you rattle the bottle.

“One or two, hon,” you ask as you approach her again.

“Two, please,” she inhales the scent of the coffee and sighs, rubbing her eye socket before extending her hand to take the tablet, “the whole bottle if I could.”

“Ugh, yeah, I don’t miss those days,” you hum and cap the bottle.

You put it away and go into the large fridge, taking out the carton of almond milk for the woman. You take it to her as she approaches the island to clink down the coffee. You watch as she adds the milk and takes a slender spoon from you to stir it in. She takes her first sip and moans before tossing back the pills.

“Coffee good?” You prompt proudly.

“Oh, yeah,” she looks up at you, “yeah, it’s great.”

“Took me a while to master the beast,” you point to the machine. “I finally got my ristretto down, too.”

She gives a nervous laugh and gulps again, wiping her lips with the back of her hand, “you’re nice… really nice. Why?”

You blink at her question. It makes you wonder, was Nick not nice? That’s not really any of your concern.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” You shrug and turn to the full sink, “you’re a guest.” You plunge your hands in and scrub the porcelain, “plus, you kinda remind me of my daughter. I’d like someone to treat her nicely too.”

“Ah,” she accepts, “that’s really sweet.”

“It’s human, I hope,” you open up the dishwasher to slide in each plate.

“You really… didn’t have to make me coffee,” she murmurs.

You peek over at her as she stares into the depths. She seems sad but that might just be the hangover. You continue your work as you reply.

“It was already on. If you’re hungry–”

“Please, no, that’s okay,” she declines with a wave, “I think… I think I’ll just finish this and get an uber. Maybe go call my mom.”

“Well, you let me know if you need anything before you go,” you chime as you hook glasses into the top rack of the dishwasher.

You finish the dishes and grab a damp cloth to go wipe the table down. You stop by a few other surfaces to clear away rings from the finish and return to the kitchen. As you enter from the dining room, Nick appears in the other.

The woman faces him as she grabs her shoes, “hi.”

He growls and lumbers over to the coffee machine. He sees the mug waiting for him and peers into its empty body. You clutch the cloth in your hand as you watch his naked back tense. He wears nothing more than a pair of briefs. At most, you’ve seen him shirtless when he needs some stitches.

“More coffee?” You offer the woman.

“No, I should go,” she peeks at him nervously.

“Alright, well, you take care,” you bid her and take her cup.

“Thanks,” she says and skulks to the door, “bye, Nick.”

“Mmm,” he flicks his fingers at her as he pours himself a cup.

You narrow your eyes at his shoulder blades. That wasn’t very polite. Well, it isn’t your job to be his mother, even if it feels like it sometimes.

You put the almond milk away as he turns to lean in the corner of the counter. He presses the porcelain to his forehead and groans. You shake out the cloth over the sink and rinse it out.

“You have a daughter,” he states plainly. A question but not really.

“I do,” you answer evenly.

“I didn’t know that,” he says.

You shrug, “guess it never came up.”

"You’ve worked for me for three years…” he mutters.

“You never asked,” you say lightly, “it’s fine.”

He lowers the cup and slurps loudly. He swishes the coffee around before he swallows thickly.

“Your husband okay with you working twelves?”

You chuckle, “sir, really, it’s fine.”

His curiosity is not usual. You stick to the expected, the manageable. You don’t stray outside the lines. You’re friendly but you’re not overfamiliar. He always seemed to prefer that. He enjoyed talking about himself far more.

“You were busy yesterday,” he shifts his weight to one foot, his muscled chest rippling.

“I suppose as busy as you,” you roll in the racks of the dishwasher and add soap before closing it up.

“I… interrupted your plans?”

“Sir, it’s fine, I had a good day off and now I’m back,” you insist, “are there any other messes I need to worry about?”

He tilts his head and exhales deeply. His cheek dimples as he considers you. The cut on his head is exposed but not as bad as it was, though the bruise under his eyes has only gotten darker.

He scoffs as a smirk slants his lips, “sure. You could change my bed sheets.”

“Sure,” you accept breezily, repressing the glimmer of concern at the base of your skull.

Something about his response seems trite, as if he means to insult you. You’re an adult, you’re less than shocked at his after hours play. By now, you’re quite used to it. He’s in his prime, he’s well off, and he’s handsome by anyone’s measure.

“You could try some witch hazel,” you touch your cheek then point at his, “for the bruising.”

“I can handle it,” he retorts and pushes himself away from the counter, “enough chattering. Get to work.”

🥃

You knock on the office door and wait for an answer. The little device you keep clipped to your belt is still buzzing with Nick’s demand. He calls to you from within and you enter.

“Sir?” You greet him.

“What took you so long?” He growls.

He’s in a foul mood. He has been all day. He can be gruff, you’re used to that, but today, he just seems prickly. His romp must not have been much fun. Come to think of it, his partner had been all too eager to flee.

You shake away the intrusive thoughts and clear your throat, “I was in the laundry room. Sorry.”

“My head is pounding,” he rubs his temples.

“Right, sir, I’ll bring you Advil and some water–”

“Don’t treat me like a child,” he snarls.

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m sure I’m a lot older than your daughter, so cut it out.”

“I wasn’t– sir, I’m sorry.”

“Go, get the pills,” he shoos you, “and call Rhonda.”

You nod and leave him. Wow. You don’t think he’s ever spoken to you like that. The mention of Joey also puts you off. Why is he so concerned? Most people could look at you and assume you have a kid or too. At your age, with your hips…

You go downstairs to retrieve the Advil and a tall glass of water. You climb back upstairs and follow the airy hall down to your office. As you enter, he sits with his head in his hands, his elbows on the desk. You don’t say a word as you set down the glass and pills.

He doesn’t move. You back away slowly and pull out your cell phone. You’ll call the masseuse, she should be able to work out the tension.

As you get to the door, he growls and his chair squeaks.

“You said something, about witch hazel,” he snarls.

“Uh, yes,” you face him, “it’ll take down the bruising.”

He narrows his eyes, the gesture tweaking his swollen cheek. Even battered, he isn’t unattractive. And the woman in his kitchen was just as gorgeous. So you find it hard to fathom why he’s in such a mood.

“Would you like me to get it for you, sir?” You ask, trying not to sound too pandering.

“Sure, whatever.”

You sweep away and go down the hall to the cabinet. You keep everything stocked well. Part of your job is inventory. You’ll have to go through the liquor bottles later and see what needs replenishing too.

You return to him with the witch hazel and a bag of cotton balls. You place them on his desk as he leans his head against the chairback, his eyes closed. You step back on your heel and his eyes pop open.

“Would you mind?” He motions to his face.

“Sure,” you take the cotton balls and pull one out.

You uncap the dark bottle and dampen the cotton with the liquid. His eyes close again as you sidle closer and you dab gently along his cheek. He flinches, just once, then stills. It must be cold.

His eyes flick open again and startle you as you retract your touch. Awkwardly, you move away and gather up the bottle and bag of cotton balls. He’s quiet as he leans forward to grab the bottle of pills.

“I should’ve guessed,” he says as he shakes two tablets out, “that’s what I do. I read people. You’re a mother, for sure. She’s older, isn’t she? College? You had her young–”

“Sir,” you sniff, uncomfortable.

“Just the one. And you didn’t answer me when I talked about your husband so he must be out of the picture. Divorced. About the time you came around here, huh? You need the job after the messy break up,” he suggests as he wags his finger with a knowing grin, “probably another woman, huh?”

You blink. You’ll let him think what he wants. His opinion of your marriage isn’t important. It won’t do to correct him anyway. He doesn’t really seem to care, he just wants to wound. You just can’t figure out what you’ve done to deserve it.

#nick fowler #dark nick fowler #dark!nick fowler #nick fowler x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #blurred lines #the 355

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myouicieloz · 8 months

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Sunday afternoon shenanigans

Aeri Uchinaga x aespa5thmember! reader

Synopsis: you were having a Sunday off at the dorm and you were bored out of your mind when you remember Ningning’s vibrator hidden in one of her drawers. you’ve decided to have some fun, after all, but of course Giselle never knocks.

Warnings: smut? I guess. dom!giselle x sub!reader.

Word count: 3.3k

Notes: I HAVE RETURNED MY BELOVEDS. this is my first time ever writing/posting something like this… I was so embarrassed I swear to God. but I did have fun, too! I hope you like it and if there’s anything wrong pls tell me so I can fix it. I won’t check for any errors or mistakes or else I’ll just be too embarrassed and delete it all so enjoy!! luv u kisses. also i wrote vibrator bc I didn’t want to write dildo. so imagine what you will.

Pt. 1 | Pt.2 | Pt.3

It was a slow Sunday at the dorm. Karina and Winter had gone out shopping and Ningning was in China on one of her solo schedules, which left you and Giselle alone, all bored and tedious. You’ve been staring at your room’s ceiling (which you shared with Minjeong), for quite a while now, wondering what to do to kill off the boredom. Your mind wandered to something you remembered spotting in Ning’s room, once, when you were looking for a shirt she had borrowed ages ago. Remembering the big, bright-green toy in Ning’s drawers, you’ve impulsively decided you were done waiting for someone gross to finally fuck you; you’d do it yourself, instead.

That thought left you staring at the thing, still eyeing the vibrator suspiciously after wondering if you weren’t just too bored, and all. Surely, Ningning wouldn’t mind (or she would, but you’d by her another weird dildo if she fussed too much about you using it).

However, you had no idea of how that whole sex thing worked in practice. Sure, you’ve watched porn and listened to your bandmates ramble about their escapades, but it simply wasn’t the same. You huffed, frustrated but determined to but an end to it, after all.

“Hey, the girls were wondering if you’d like them to bring something to eat when they get ba-”Giselle stopped herself mid-sentence as she barged into your room, no doubt surprised by the sight of you with your hands down your shorts and the neon green vibrator one of your hands.

You jumped on your bed, pushing Giselle out of the bedroom as you cursed her out.

“What the fuck, unnie? Don’t you ever fucking knock? Doors are closed for reasons.”

You seriously wanted to die. And kill her. Then die and kill her again. You felt your face getting flushed with bright red as you hit your head on the door, hearing your friend’s laugh through the wood.

“Sorry, sorry. I’ll just let the girls know you’re not… hungry. For food.” Another laugh echoed, and you knocked your head stronger. “I’m sorry, ok Yn? Let me in… please?”

Giselle was met with silence, as you were still trying to figure out how to flush your head down the toilet after being caught in such a scene by one of your bandmates and best friends.

“Listen, there’s nothing wrong with getting yourself off, ok? It’s like, super natural. It’s not like we don’t masturbate, either.” She kept on talking, and you could picture her looking at her nails with her bored expression, tiny nose and monotonous voice, “In fact, I really should get a new vibrator for myself too. I feel like mine’s fucked up with the batteries or something. Although, of course I won’t get one in that hideous color like yours and-“

“Ugh, it’s not mine!” You said, giving up on ignoring the shorter girl and deleting yourself from earth. With an exasperated sigh, you pulled her by the arms, making sure to close the door well enough this time. “Just shut your fucking mouth, unnie God.” You muttered, preparing yourself to explain the whole situation to her.

(…)

“Why is it so green, though?” You questioned Giselle, turning the vibrator upside down with 2 of your fingers, almost unsure of how to manage it.

The two of you were sitting in your bed after you explained the entire idea to your friend, hoping she wouldn’t find you too pathetic. Thankfully, the only thing that truly made Giselle wrinkle her nose at was the color of the thing.

“How would I know? Ning’s weird as fuck. Maybe it’s a kink of hers or something.” Giselle scoffed, also looking a bit disgusted by the device’s bright color, and you hummed in approval.

It was very Ningning coded, indeed.

The silence after your conclusion was awkward, and you intended to give your friend an excuse to exit your room when she uttered, out of nowhere, “I could help you out, you know.”

“E-excuse me?” You gagged. This afternoon just kept getting odder and odder.

You mean, it’s not like you and Giselle weren’t close, which you were. You’ve changed, bathed and shared more intimate moments together than you could ever remember. It’s just… this was different. Very different.

“I could help you with what you… want.” She sounded almost unsure, even though she nudged you playfully. “Come on, it’s not like you know anything in practice.”

“No need to flatter yourself, huh.”

“I’m just saying,” she continued, ignoring your bitter tone, “that I could make you feel good. And that’s what you want, right? I mean, that’s what sex is about anyway.”

You were still not fully convinced, but you were eyeing her more attentively now. Sensing you were almost giving in, she plucked one of your locks out of your face. “It’s really not the big of a deal you think it is, Yn. It’s just sex, and we’re friends. Right?”

“...Yeah, right.”

This was obviously a stupid, impulsive, brainless idea, to have sex for the first time with one of your bandmates. While your other bandmates weren’t home.

You took a deep breath, nudging Giselle back and laughing as she looses balance and almost falls from your bed.

“Fine. Let’s do it, then.”

(…)

“So... should I just put it in?”

“What? No!” Giselle looks at you with big eyes, giggling a little. She stopped when you kept on staring at her, now realizing you were serious about not knowing how to do this. She took the toy from your hands before frowning at it, then sizing you up. “Well, not at first, at least. You’re not even wet. This way it won’t fit, and it will be too painful.”

“It’ll be painful anyway.” you grumbled, allowing her to spread your legs to place herself between them. Aeri massages your thighs before giving them a gentle squeeze.

“Not really, no.” she can tell you’re nervous by the way your eyes never meet hers, and you keep twitching as if to fight the urge to close your legs and dress yourself. “It might be uncomfortable at first, but then it’s like... a nice kind of discomfort.” her fingers tease the hem of your shorts, lightly brushing your abdomen. Ever since she’s caught you in your room and offered to help, Giselle has been nothing but patient. “You don’t have to do it, though.” she reminds you, still caressing your body. “There’s nothing wrong with being a virgin and-“

“I-“ you took a deep breath, finally gathering enough courage to stand on your elbows and look at her, although you still sounded unsure. “I do want to do it. I’m just ashamed, I guess. You can admit that it’s a bit pathetic, no problem.”

Giselle giggled again, this time with her fingers accompanying her light posture are they ran through your body, picking on your waist and poking your ribs in the places she knows you feel ticklish the most. You laugh and try to squirm under her touch — you’re taller, much taller, but she is stronger, so she quickly strands you entirely, hands locking your wrists up in your head so you couldn’t move or try to get on top of her.

“Hey, no fair! Let me go!” you plead, but your laughter and the weak way you try to run from her is all Giselle needs to know her mission has succeeded: you’re way less tense now.

“You’re so cute, Yn. it’s adorable, really.” she says, kissing each of your cheeks repeatedly. You try your best not to blush.

Even though you were the group’s maknae, you weren’t often reckoned as such, with your height making you impose and usually not the cute girl type. You didn’t mind it, either; you’d rather jump off a bridge than do aegyo anyway.

One of Giselle’s hands let go of your wrists to make its way down your abdomen again, though the other one kept holding you in place. Her featherlight touches still made you squirm, but she held you with such care, you couldn’t help but to feel safe.

“Is it ok if I take this off?” she asked, gripping at your panties as she scanned you for any reservations. You tensed again, but as you opened your mouth to say it was ok, she cut you, “it’s ok, then. We’ll just push it to the sides.”

Giselle knew how insecure you were about your body. The girls were always teasing you and karina for wearing the clothes with most fabric, and you often laughed about it. It was only now, in your newest comeback, that you were beginning to try new things and riskier, revealing outfits. She never understood it, though. You were praised by numerous knetz about your body; how toned, and athletic you were, with your long legs and gracious arms, fit for a supermodel. Which you have been since your teens, for a fact. The company had recently signed you off with Valentino and you were absolutely outstanding walking in Paris Fashion Week, which Karina had also attended, though not as a model. She did try her best to always praise how beautiful you were, though, to make sure you knew it.

True to her word, Aeri tapped your hips, and you raised them as she slipped your shorts past your legs and threw them on your bedroom floor. Your panties were pushed to the sides, as promised, but before her fingers could reach your pussy, the older girl lifted herself up from between your thighs, a slight frown on her face.

“What’s wrong, Unnie?” You asked her, looking for any signs of trouble in her yourself. Did you do anything wrong? Should you touch her, too? Does she even want to be touched? Fuck, you were so bad at this. Perhaps if you were any bolder, you would’ve gotten laid already and wouldn’t be in this pathetic situati-

“It’s all ok, Yn-,” Giselle reassured you, squeezing your hips to snap yourself away from your thoughts and back to her, to this. Now that you noticed it, she was gripping each of your thighs with her hands, and her face was too close to your core. Too fucking close. You felt your face get hot and a familiar sensation build up on your lower abdomen. (You weren’t a total prude, of course you’ve touched yourself before, even if it wasn’t often.). “I think my fingers will hurt you if we do them now, though. But don’t worry, I’ll prep you up.”

“What do you mean with prepping me u-oh fuck,” you drop your head on the bedside as she finally gave your pussy a long lick, delighting herself as she saw how responsive you were. Smaller, quieter ones followed, and soon the older girl was nearly making out with her dripping cunt.

You bit your lip, trying not to make any noise, but soon your bandmate’s fingers brushed your lips, forcing their way in.

“Don’t silence yourself,” she told you, watching you suck on her thumb so prettily. It made her so aroused to see how good you were at this. At following commands—her commands. It made Giselle want to rip the rest of your clothes and take you until you were crying for her to let go of you. “It will feel better if you let the sounds out, trust me.” She cupped your jaw before going back to eating you out, so you did as told, not bothering to hide how good this was making you feel at all.

“Ok...” you mumbled, moaning loudly as she teased you with her mouth. You arched your back whenever Aeri slipped her tongue into your dripping cunt, her nose brushing against your clit. The friction it made was out of this world, and you felt the waves of pleasure building up slowly but deliciously to create an entirely new feeling.

“Is it good?” She asked, her hot breath on clit before she gave it a light suck. You nodded, “Tell me.”

“S’too good, oh fuck.” You managed to answer her, breathless. One of your hands grabbed her hair, and you tried to shove her face even deeper into your pussy, but it made Giselle stop instead. You rolled your eyes at her. She was too bossy. “Sorry, unnie. More, please?” You were rewarded, then, as Giselle’s attention went back to your clit, circling it hard and fast as her hands pulled on your panties with enough strength to rip it off.

She grabbed your thighs and gave your clit a hard suck, making you almost scream. You cried loudly as you were hit by a hard wave of pleasure, with Giselle still licking you through your high, her eyes trained on your frame.

She got up and made her way up to you, promptly kissing you with her lips smeared with your juices. “Next time, tell me when you’re close, ok?” She asked, brushing some strands of hair out of your face. You nodded, still brushing her lips.

You could feel her hands in the hem of your hoodie and your shirt, and she stopped the kiss to gesture for you to get your arms up, which you did. Soon you were bare to her, a bit shy from the way her eyes were darkened and she stared at your chest with such lust. You tried to cover yourself, but Giselle was quick to replace your hands with hers instead, cupping your breasts eagerly.

“So pretty, Yn...” she said, and soon you two were making out again, with you on her lap. Your brain had long been reduced to mush and your sole focus was on Giselle: the way her hair was perfectly in place, hands running through all your body.

She was painfully clothed, though, you noticed. A clear contrast to your exposure. You told her just that, trying to get off of her so she’d undress too, but you weren’t allowed.

“Of course I am, silly.” She smiled at you, “This isn’t about me anyways.” And as she reached for you once again, you couldn’t find much strength to be bothered enough to argue, too busy with her kisses and touches. You couldn’t muster how long the two of you spent like that, just exploring each other’s bodies, but it was long enough for you to feel the heat building up on your core a second time, making you worry you were making a mess on Giselle’s thigh.

You tensed when you felt her fingers brushing your entrance, not quite entering but teasing, gathering your slick before going up on your clit, circling it for a few times then presenting themselves again on your pussy.

“Shh, it’s ok,” she cooed, placing wet kisses on your neck. She gently sucked on your pulse point, making you drop your head and moan embarrassingly loud. Thank God the girls were out. “It’s just one finger. You’ve taken fingers before, right?”

You shook your head, whining when you felt it enter you. It burned a little, and it was clearly too tight, but you already felt your entire body burning up. It was too good to stop. She stopped the work on your neck to stare at you, and you saw her eyes darken.

“No fingers? Not even yours?” She gripped your thighs harder, urging you to answer, but you were too busy rocking yourself against her hand to create more friction, anything to deepen this feeling that was already so, so good, “Answer me when I talk to you, yn.” Giselle’s tone was harsh, and you flinched a little. She curled another finger inside you, making you rock yourself onto her faster.

“It d-didn’t do anything when I did it by myself before, so I would just p-play with my clit until I came-oh God.” You squeezed your eyes as she added a second finger, increasing her rhythm.

She was breathless, too, you noticed as she kissed your chest, pinching your nipples and sucking on your breasts without caring if it was messy.

“Fuck, yn. You’ll drive me fucking insane” she murmured. You couldn’t even answer, reduced into a pool of cries and whimpers, but it just felt so good it made you want to cry. How could you have gone so long without it?

Giselle’s grip on you was strong, whether it was in your arms, hips, or thighs, and it would surely bruise later, but you didn’t care a single bit. All you wanted was for her to go harder and faster, not stopping.

“Unnie, please.” You pleaded, searching for her lips as you kissed her sloppily. “More, please, please, ah...” now you were deeply thankful that jimin and minjeong were out. There was no way your moans weren’t being echoed through the entire dorm.

It didn’t matter, though, because your cries rewarded you with an even faster pace, and the pain of being stretched as now only a reminder of the combo of sensations you were feeling.

“You’re such a mess right now, yn.” Giselle told you, her hands on your hips to keep you grinding on her without losing the fast pace. “So, so pretty.” She praised, pecking your lips.

You got shy, hiding your face in the crook of her neck to keep her from noticing how much that aroused you, feeling the familiar heat gathering in your belly.

“Aeri stop, I-I’m gonna,” you motioned to stop, but she only gripped you tighter.

“It’s ok, baby, don’t stop. Come for me.” She commanded, working her fingers even faster as she added her thumb to your clit and circled it fast. With a few strokes, you came.

Your vision went black, and you felt your body go numb, almost as though there were a million fireworks exploding inside of you. You felt Giselle’s hand on your back, tracing light circles as she held you close, still snuggled to her. You took your time evening your breaths, and a few minutes passed until you felt strong enough to get out of her lap and lay in bed, staring at her attentively.

“That was...” you didn’t even know what to say. “Amazing. I’ve never felt anything like it before.” You told Aeri, meeting her gaze.

She licked her fingers clean, the ones who were buried deep inside you just a few moments ago, letting them go with an audible ‘pop’.

“You did very good, baby.” She said, hugging you gently. “I’m glad you liked it. I told you it was good.”

“I guess.” You murmured, closing your eyes for a few seconds. It had been intense, but now you felt like a big-ass truck had run over you multiple times.

The sound of the shower being turned on made you open your eyes again, seeing Aeri besides you, a glass of cold water in your hands.

“Here, take it,” she motioned to you, who complied immediately, drinking it all pretty fast. “How about you take a bath now, huh? The girls might be back anytime.” You nodded, not wanting them to see you like that, and you took the hand Giselle offered to get up and go to the bathroom.

You did see something green displayed on the ground when you’ve reached your bathroom door, though, and you laughed a little to yourself.

“Unnie?”

“Yeah, Yn?”

“We didn’t even use the vibrator.” You pointed it out, seeing Aeri’s big smirk. The girl’s mouth opened in a fake motion as she grabbed it, taking it out of the room with her.

“I guess we forgot. We’ll have to save it for next time, then.” She winked at you, leaving you to shower alone.

Giselle would be caught dead if she wasn’t going to corrupt you all to herself.

#aespa giselle #aespa #aespa scenarios #aespa smut #aespa x reader #aespa x fem reader #aespa winter #aespa karina #aespa ningning #giselle x reader #aerichandesu #aeri uchinaga #aeri uchinaga x reader #giselle smut #kpop smut #sol writes #sol’s works

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randombush3 · 1 month

Text

THE SECOND PART

(to get back to the main post)

carry on reading!!!

[...]

Bali is hot. Or at least, by your English standards, it is.

The children enjoy the villa at the Ritz, less so the yoga you partake in when your best friends find out that it can mend broken hearts, and there are big TVs in the living rooms that the World Cup matches are broadcasted on.

Your fingers remain bare, but no one knows about the ring in your suitcase anyway, so no one questions the absence of jewellery that used to adorn your hands. Or, at least, no one whose opinion you actually care about.

Nico and Elena are happy to play and play and play, barely granting you their attention when you disrupt their endless hours in the pool or exploring the beautiful grounds of the hotel with the 24-hour childcare service. You had been reluctant to accept the help, but Gio was fine with her own daughter being stolen away, and they both called you ‘uptight and preoccupied, a sad, faded picture of how fun you used to be’ until you gave in.

You let Alexia wonder about how her children are, attributing her lack of phone calls to her focus on chasing World Cup glory, blissfully ignorant to the fact that your friends have been micro-managing your interactions ever since they agreed they aren’t sure about letting you forgive the blonde just yet. That is not to say she doesn’t ever speak to them – Nico was gifted an iPad for Easter (a shoddy, shoddy excuse of an occasion to be given it, but you barely batted an eye as he tore open the packaging and thanked Auntie Anya profusely). He sort of understands how to FaceTime Alexia. They often happen when he is with what Alexia calls ‘the can’t-mother-too-busy-doing-drugs nanny’.

You are lounging on the sunbeds, sweat pooling on your navel, music playing softly through the speaker Elena had begged you to bring. Though Moana pales in comparison to the days you’d attend concerts that weren’t your own, you are quite content to relax and zone out the lively songs and stare up at the brilliant, blue sky.

Today is a bit different. You are two weeks into your holiday, with one remaining, and, today is the day you are finally going to open Alexia’s gift.

You worked out what it was the moment she had given it, but, since you know that curiosity kills the cat, you have stopped yourself from opening it, not sure if you will cope with seeing a ring. What would this ring even be? A ‘sorry I fucked my best friend’?

Elena hasn’t been included in the children’s entertainment plans for the morning; they have gone for a visit to a coral reef, accompanied by their babysitter and Anya (who you are beginning to think is enjoying their activities more than they are). Despite being relatively advanced for her age, some things fall short, such as her attention span. It doesn’t help that the sleeping issues Alexia had noticed are leaking into her time spent with you, too.

“Mama,” comes a small whine, followed by a sniffle. Elena has been trying her best to copy you, lying underneath a towel for shade. You had hoped she’d finally fallen asleep, seeing as that didn’t happen last night. With her evidently still awake, you sit up, reaching out to run your hand through her damp hair, not quite dry from when she had enough energy to splash around in the pool.

“Mama, tired.”

“I’m not surprised. That’s what happens if you don’t sleep.”

“Mama.” The petulance is a little glimpse into her teenage years, but then she begins to cry and your imagination falters at the sound.

Elena, as far as toddlers go, is not the most emotional. She is generally well-behaved, if a little unresponsive at times, but she is quiet and introverted and happy to follow the leader, whoever that may be. She is a complete contrast to her brother, who basks in the attention he demands from those around him, loud about what he loves and hates, yearning to make friends with everything he sees. Elena, Elisabet Segura has told you, is just like Alexia, when she was that age. Controlled, reserved. (And your parents were quick to draw the similarities between you and your son.)

Just like her mother, Elena is drawn to you. Just like his mother, Nico is drawn to Alexia. Opposites attract.

It’s hard to ignore if you notice it.

So, when Elena begins to cry, you are alarmed to see, in her eyes, the same fear that clouds hazel irises you know far too well. The tears glide down her cheeks in inherited patterns, and you try not to panic at how much she looks like Alexia – even if they do not share the same DNA.

Part of you, the same part that suffered from postpartum depression and dulled your motherly instincts, wants nothing more than to run away from the crying toddler, horrified at the sight as you spiral and begin to imagine Alexia in her place, just as distraught as your daughter seems to be. And it’s weird and unsettling and you are so confused because Elena hasn’t cried like this since you told Alexia to leave. She continues, and even that night starts to seem minor in comparison to her meltdown right now.

Elena does not sob, she does not scream, she does not shout and go bright red in the face earnestly. A developmental tantrum, sure, but never, ever like this.

You have never seen this before, and you are at a loss for how to respond. Naturally, you draw her into your arms, holding her close and rocking her gently as she continues to wail.

“Oh, my darling,” you stagger out, trying to forget your desire to join her, to break down with her. “Mama’s here, Lela. It’s okay.” The words feel inadequate and do nothing to soothe her, though your hands stroke her back as if to rub the comfort in, to absorb her anguish and bleed it out. You would do it, if you could. You’d take all of her pain away in an instant.

In your mind, a whirlwind of thoughts swells up and disgorges bubbling, burning ideas into the pit of your stomach, none of them quite fitting as an explanation for her distress. Is she hurt? Is she missing Alexia? Or is it something deeper, something you’d overlooked?

You can be selfish, you know that. Perhaps you have been too focused on getting over the destruction of your family that you have forgotten said family in the process?

Perhaps this has happened before! You were touring for a while.

As you hold her, helplessness washes over you, as though the pool you are right next to has grown thrice the size and is trying to drown you both. You wish Alexia were here all of a sudden. Alexia, gifted at soothing crying children and being a mother and managing a career and parenthood in a way that you have never quite managed.

Alexia, who gave into your request for children and ended up besting you at it.

Alexia, whom you still love and miss and hope, sometimes, will wake up beside you even if you know that it is wrong and pathetic and… God, do you really lack such self-respect that you’d take her back? Are you this useless that the crying child in your arms should be passed off to someone else because you can’t cope and you never will and you still smoke because you’re stressed and the last time you took drugs was far too recent to be called a good mother and Elena cries and cries and cries and…

You take a deep breath.

“It’s okay,” you repeat, hating that you are lying to her. It’s not okay! None of it is okay. “Mama’s here, Lela, Mama’s here. You’re safe.”

Your voice trembles, and she hears the weakness of your tone, unconvinced and uncomforted, failed by the woman who is supposed to guide her through all of her storms as steady as the sun’s movement each passing hour. Elena’s cries continue unabated, her small frame wracked with sobs as she clings to you, squeezing your skin tightly in a way that tells you that you are not enough.

You, alone, are not enough for her.

You can’t do this.

With your arms holding her securely in place, you dip down slightly, grasping your phone from the tote bag it’s shaded in. It has been warmed by the sun anyway, but the heat of the screen as you press it to your ear is nothing in comparison to the burning in your chest, the fire her cries have ignited in a way that destroys everything in you.

She continues to scream into your body as the dial tone buzzes and beeps three times, picked up on the fourth as if she has been counting the rings.

“Dime,” Alexia’s gruff voice huffs out, unimpressed that you have called her after refusing for the past month, seemingly always busy. Anya and Gio had given her excuses; you were busy talking to Leah, you were in a meeting, you didn’t want to speak to her. “Now is not a good time.”

You only manage to breath out her name before she understands that something is seriously wrong.

“Alexia, it’s Elena… she’s… she’s crying, she hasn’t stopped. Alexia, I-I don’t know what to do,” you admit, voice breaking. You know she will be able to hear the sobs coming from the toddler, her voice mighty and fierce despite how small she seems. “She hasn’t slept at all, and it just… happened. I can’t calm her down.”

“Is she hurt?”

“No, no,” you stutter, words tumbling out in a rush, “I don’t think so.”

“What do you mean ‘hasn’t slept’? Not even a nap?”

You shake your head, panicked. At Alexia’s lack of response, you remember that she is not here with you. You swallow your own sobs. “She’s been sharing a room with Nico and everything’s been fine, except, last night, she wouldn’t sleep. It was like she was terrified of it. She begged me to let her sleep with me, so I brought her into my bed and, I don’t know, it didn’t help. I tried to tire her out, read to her, sang to her, told her off, comforted her, but she wouldn’t and so I drifted off and she didn’t and we were relaxing today – it’s just us, today – and she started crying half an hour ago and hasn’t stopped.”

As if on cue, Elena’s sobs grow louder, piercing through the phone line in a way that makes both you and Alexia feel sick. But Alexia has heard these before, and has kept them from you for a very good reason.

“She’s exhausted,” Alexia decides calmly. “She’ll cry herself to sleep.”

“She doesn’t want to sleep!” you snap, frustrated.

“She’s scared you are going to leave her. She usually… she usually cries for you, when she’s with me. I guess not seeing me has flipped it.”

“Usually?”

You pale.

“Usually, Alexia?”

You hear a sigh. “Do you want me to talk to her?” she asks, ignoring your horrified question. “Rub her back and keep touching her, so that she knows you’re there. I’ll… I’ll see if I can get her to calm down a bit so that you can – you need a breather, don’t you?”

“My daughter is crying as though the world is about to end.”

“Well, for her, it feels like it is. Put me on speaker.”

You obey her instruction, reclining on the lounger so that Elena is now curled on top of you, wetting your chest with her tears. You place the phone near her head, both hands trying desperately to remind her that she is not alone.

“Lela, petita, no estàs sola. Estoy aquí, y Mama también. Mai et deixarem.”

Elena sniffles, surprised by the sound of Alexia’s voice.

“That’s it, darling,” you encourage as the sobs are quickly replaced by resigned whimpering. Alexia continues to talk, hardly understandable as you let yourself succumb to your own emotions, your tears running down the sides of your face, hands still drawing circles on your daughter’s back. “That’s it,” you whisper.

Alexia hangs up when she hears both of you breathing deeply, slowly, softly; fast asleep.

…

She wipes the sweat from her brow, more exhausted from this than the gym session she had stepped out of.

“What was that about?” Codi asks her curiously, taken in the blush in her captain’s cheeks, the slight dent in her lips from where she has bitten them. “Rather inappropriate to pick up a booty call when we’re this close,” she pinches her fingers together, “to the semis, no?”

“Elena won’t sleep with her either,” Alexia says, if not because she needs to tell someone then because she relishes in the embarrassment that clouds Laia’s face as she hurries to take her comment back.

“I thought you’d overcome it,” Laia replies sadly. “She was sleeping the whole night in her own bed, wasn’t she? That was only two months ago.”

“She can’t deal with it, Codi.” Her sigh is a little more heartbroken than what is fitting for such a communal area, but Alexia does not care that her hunched shoulders have caught Irene’s attention, the defender well-acquainted with the signs of family issues. “She can’t deal with the back-and-forth. She is only three.”

“It has been a year,” comforts her friend. “Maybe she needs more time to adjust.”

“Laia, you did not hear her. She cried like she was going to die, and I felt like I was going to die with her. You know how Y/n is with… You remember what it was like when Nico was a baby, when he wouldn’t stop crying. We were lucky that Elena didn’t have that, or that the doctors were more vigilant or whatever, but… I was keeping this from her for a reason.”

Alexia doesn’t want to guilt you back to her. There is the slightest possibility that, if you were to know just how much Elena has been struggling while away from you, you would suffer through your heartbreak and pretend everything was fine, just to make her happy. Just to make their lives easier.

But Alexia knows. Alexia knows you wake up every day and relive it again and again. She sees the repulsion in your eyes when you look at her – she saw it through the wine and the pleasure.

She knows you smoke, she knows the rumours about the parties you go to are mostly true. She knows that the album is about her, and that the success didn’t taste sweet because it exploited your heartbreak.

She knows that you don’t feel anything towards Leah Williamson, that you’re only trying to get her attention or fill her place.

Alexia knows all of this, because you are a part of her. She knows how you feel like she knows where her right hand is, and, the worst part about that, is that she knows it is all entirely her fault.

“Irene, where is Mateo?! Alexia needs her little person hugs!” shouts Laia, sympathy hidden by her teasing tone, which Alexia is very grateful for. “Get the nen, and get him now!”

…

The unopened ring box travels with you to Australia.

Spain’s failure to lose has led them to the World Cup Final, and while you are going to support your own country, Elena and Nico are dressed in ALEXIA jerseys, yellow and red stripes painted onto their chubby cheeks.

You had found out, after the Elena incident, that your friends had been lying to Alexia for your peace of mind, or so they claimed.

You don’t know how to tell Alexia that you called Leah before you left for Bali and told her that you couldn’t be with her. Or that Gio and Anya had been meddling, going as far as to calculatedly gift Nico an iPad in preparation for a summer of trying to save you from a broken heart.

So… you send her a heads-up that you’ll be attending the final, wish her luck (but not too much, for the sake of the Lionesses), and ensure the children are down for naps so that they have energy to party late into the night regardless of the outcome.

As a desperate, short-term solution while separate from Alexia, you had your manager seek out the best paediatrician in Bali and get a reasonable prescription for melatonin, just so that Elena can sleep. You plan to let Alexia focus on her tournament and bring up the issue when preseason starts, aware that drugging the child to sleep is definitely not the best option.

With another hour of sleep in their systems, you have time to re-pack your suitcases, ready to leave the next day.

And you are reminded of your unopened gift.

Alexia had said to open it when you were home, but you reason that home is with your children, and home, due to your career, is often also in the hotel suites in foreign countries.

You root through the piles of neatly-folded clothes, searching for the box you had buried at the bottom. Its velvet edges are soft under the wrapping paper and the box is sitting in the palm of your hand, naked now, before you realise what you are doing.

The lid flicks open, and you prepare yourself to see something shiny, some insanely expensive diamond that certainly won’t fix all that she has done.

But you brace for nothing, for inside the box lies only a slip of paper.

A boarding pass from London Stansted to Barcelona-El Prat Airport, decorated in aged, black ink.

Scrawled on top of the flight details is something much more valuable than the entrance into First Class the paper allows.

Eleven digits.

Your old phone number.

You remember this.

It was the night you first kissed Alexia, or, rather, she kissed you. You’d been at some FC Barcelona event, and you’d gone outside because you had realised it might not have been acceptable for Alexia to hit on you in front of all those people, no matter how much she had wanted to.

You’d smoked to get her attention, to get her to tell you off. To start a conversation. And you had loved her from the minute she kissed you, so tentative, so unsure.

The boarding pass is sentimental, and you are amazed at the condition it is in, or even the fact that she still has it.

You drop the box, plucking the paper from the slit it had been situated in, unfolding it, examining it with tears in your eyes.

You turn it over in your palm, re-acquainting yourself with your memories from that evening.

And you notice fresh, blue ink written on the back of the boarding pass.

It’s Alexia’s handwriting, this time, though neater than usual, having clearly taken care to form her letters correctly.

Can we start again? it says.

There is a drawing of three stick women, short dresses, high ponytails, too. One is circled, an arrow leaping out of the wobbly shape. That one is labelled with your name, and, underneath, ‘esta es mi favorita y me casaré con ella algún día’.

Marta once told you, at the expense of her club captain, that that had been Alexia’s only comment about you back when they were all obsessed with your break-out girl group and could never talk about anything else.

Twenty-nine-year-old Alexia Putellas knows that her mistakes have lost her many battles, but twenty-nine-year-old Alexia Putellas also knows that her love will win her the war. Because there you are, and nothing is worth fighting for more than you.

(to get back to the main post)

#fc barcelona #woso imagines #barca femeni #leah williamson x reader #woso x reader #woso #randombush3 #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas

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