#and I think about certain scenes daily

[cookiesandcantarella]

we r besties

[ID: picture of Kermit and animal from the muppets hugging. Kermit is captioned with “me” and animal is captioned with “the beloved piece of media I would never ever recommend to anyone under any circumstances” end ID]

[hoseoksluna]

BOOKWORMS | knj

pairing: boyfriend!namjoon x reader

genre: smut; fluff

word count: 4.4k

summary: namjoon thinks of you when he reads a smut scene in his book.

warnings: boyfriend namjoon!!!, kimi namijoon reading, mentions of sex (riding), oral sex (f. receiving), nipple play, the importance of consent, teasing, raw sex, breeding kink <3, big dick namu!!, dom/sub dynamics, spanking, joonie's chain dangling in ur face, tummy bulge, creampie, bruising, hickeys, aftercare:(

note: it took blood, sweat and tears (hehe) to write this and i'm so happy it's finally here!! i loved writing about namjoon. he's my whole soul and the entirety of my heart and i have to write abt him again soon. please take your time reading this and enjoy urself! let me know what you think in the comments mwah (or tell me anonymously in my inbox) and as i always say please like and if u want to - reblog, but i won't pressure u baby. love love you!!

side note: if you want to jump straight to the smut, it's right under the asterisks &lt;;3

You revel, you truly do, in seeing your boyfriend in such a serene state of mind. 

Nose buried in a book, Namjoon pays no mind to the surroundings fleeting by him with each flutter of his eyelashes. It goes unnoticed by him, strangely so, how you tidy up the apartment you share. How you feed the two cats that chose you and him to be their human parents. How you fondle their soft ears. How you bend over the furniture to whisper ‘pspsps’ at them when they need a moment away from you just to see their round eyes look up at you stupidly. Namjoon usually observes these moments; this utmost natural behavior of yours. He draws strength from the homeliness of it all with each and every swell of his lungs. Needs it to survive. That is until he gets a hold of that one papery portal and sits comfortably on the couch, one ankle propped over the knee. Then, he ceases to exist in this world. 

You’re happy for him. Over time, you’ve come to find that you have a certain fondness for the way he remains stoic. Because you always know what kind of book he’s reading, a smile blossoms on its own over the line of your lips whenever your eye catches the sculpture-like look on his face. It’s like even if he let himself hold his breath, his consciousness would waver back to the earth and the wretched awareness that he’s here, among mortals and the unfair capitalist system aftermath, would stream in his bloodstream, poisoning his experience. It takes the leisure out of it and makes the bed for misery instead. He doesn’t like it. Hates it, in fact. It’s a necessity that he focuses, as he embarks on the journey, because he does it for you.

Namjoon confides in his feelings and his literature with you almost on a daily basis. On the same couch, with the same cats snoring faintly, their small bodies spilling over the perimeter of your tangled legs. Doesn’t matter if it’s his thigh or the curve of your hip. The animals always find a warm crook to doze in, eavesdropping in, with their curious little ears, on the conversations you’re having. Though you reckon they like the meat of his thigh the best. You do, too. Can’t really blame them. The same serenity that intimately knows the person of Namjoon perceives the person of you when he prompts you to rest your head on his lap while he brushes his book-kissed fingers through the silky waterfall of your hair. Thoroughly explains the intricacies of the plot he’s invested in to you. Describes the characters as if they’re real people he’s become acquainted with. They are real to you as you listen. As you ask additional questions and gaze up at his eyes just to catch that one body of a shooting star fiery hot in the glossiness of his eyes. As you wonder, openly, what will happen to them.

“I’ll tell you when they tell me.” He sunk the promise onto the smooth skin of your forehead with the pucker of his lips.

It’s how you discovered, in all seriousness, that the plaster of his stoicism breaks during these literary moments.

Various colors of emotion tug and twist his features, the bare kind. The unrestrained kind. You know it’s a relief for him when the dam bursts open, soaking you in the beauty of humanness one only finds in literature these days. You can’t help but fall in love with him all over again when his eyebrows furrow. When his orbs nearly burn a hole in the ceiling when he’s trying to think of the right word that will ultimately help him convey the unfolding of the storyline. When he gives up and weaves English into his sentences, relying on his hands to say what his overstimulated brain fails to do. 

He reads to pass knowledge to you. The serenity whispered it into the chambers of your heart, a puff of hot breath in winter’s cold. It soothingly rubbed his shoulders when Namjoon told you there used to be a time when he couldn’t stand the sight of his books lining up the walls of his apartment. Wanted to burn it down and watch as the evidence of his melancholy dies in front of him. Because that’s what most of his book collection consisted of back then. The innermost shadowy faces of his pain. Loneliness. Sadness. Despair from life, from it not being enough for him, from it not saving a spot there for him–not once throughout the course of his life. That’s why he reads different kinds of books now. Ones that do not reflect his survival before you.

The reader has to get wiser, ruffled by life in order to gain more, gain what they need from those once deeply loved pages. It’s what the serenity believes. It’s what you believe and hope for Namjoon. That one day, somehow by the healing of the love you give him, he will look back and pick a souvenir from that moonless country of pain. Put it up somewhere between the spines of his new cluttered collection. Look at it from time to time and sense that it’s telling him something. Something that will fill the stitched-up cracks in his heart with sunlight. Something that he will pass over to you. It’s your love language after all. Namjoon reads because you read. It’s his own personal healing thing. 

You two are just a pair of two bookworms. Unfit for the world outside. Fit for the land you two created. Whose soil you take care of together.

***

Dinner is almost ready by the time you feel his fingertips gripping your hips. You hum, acknowledging his presence. Glad for the homely heat that radiates off of his body and seeps into your bones as you stir the risotto you decided to make on the stove. Coldness had been embracing you all day while he read so you’re overjoyed that he ripped it away from you.

Namjoon places a kiss on your temple and you sigh in relief. You might be too dependent on him, but so is he. He wouldn’t be nuzzling his face in your hair, squeezing your waist, peppering kisses on your tender skin if he wasn’t. It’s the perfect balance. And it’s not that you’re not able to be away from each other. The principle of looking forward to one another is what makes it so sweet, so endurable for the pair of you. Of the coming back and coming into contact at the end of the day. It’s natural. Simple. Human.

“Missed me?” Namjoon husks into your ear. 

You smirk and turn off the stove, turning around to face him. “Terribly.”

His body is clad in a black T-shirt that fits his broad figure well and a pair of baggy sweats of the same color, having discarded the warm crewneck he was wearing earlier somewhere in the universe of his book. A long silver chain twinkles in the middle of his chest in the yellow light. You caress it with your fingers and leave your palm there, on the hardness of his pecs. 

“I finished the book,” he says and you blink up at him. You’re not surprised at all. “Couldn’t put it down.”

Sleepy wrinkles have left their mark on his face from the cozy position he laid in for too long on the couch. His short sunlit hair, grown healthily from his military service, is tousled in all directions and you smooth it down for him. How did God bless you with such a beautiful man is something you’ll wonder about for the rest of your life. 

“What happened to Theo in the end?” you ask, genuinely curious about whether one of the characters you’ve grown attached to is okay after all the shit the author put him through. 

Namjoon was reading a coming-of-age book about a boy named Theo. A panorama of his childhood and adolescent life, you’ve heard all about it. Namjoon cared a lot about this story, cared a lot about the protagonist’s emotions and reactions to the reappearing storms. What made him stick with it, despite the nearly triggering themes, is the fact that Theo never let go of his optimism no matter what. It was incredibly inspiring for Namjoon. Something new. Something that he never thought could be possible. You’re proud of him for daring to read a book so reminiscent of his past.

“You’re not gonna believe it,” Namjoon says, a blush creeping along his cheeks.

You raise one of your eyebrows in question. 

“Theo got laid,” Namjoon reveals, laughing softly. “I’m so happy for him.”

You gasp and burst into giggles. “What?”

“He got some!” 

Your laughter rises in volume. “He lost his virginity and that’s the end?”

“It was a big moment for him. A triumph of some kind. Like he shed his old skin and left that broken life behind. It was amazing.” Namjoon’s eyes glint with tiny shooting stars and you melt. He always finds poetic meanings in the varieties of the character arcs. You think you just fell in love with him all over again. 

“That’s really beautiful,” you admit. It reminds you of something. Of something quite personal. “My first time with you changed my life as well.”

Namjoon’s eyebrows curl in tenderness. Dragon eyes widen and round in fervent emotion. He squeezes his arms around you, enfolding you in a hug. Kisses you warmly. Strokes your hair down your back. Your own eyes pool with little tears with the intimate knowledge that you chose the right person to unfold your raw femininity with. No one, no man other than him could have created such a safe for that to happen.

“Tell you what,” Namjoon says a bit hoarsely. “I saw us in it.”

You hum, encouraging him to continue. Crave for more of his thoughts and confidential findings. Its fire spreading through your body, as each word of his registers in your brain, always makes you feel phenomenally alive. You’re not timid to avow that it’s your addiction. Shame doesn’t know you.

“Elena was on top and he was watching her. In awe of her,” he murmurs, caressing your cheek with the tip of his thumb. “Made me think of our last time. A life changing experience of mine as well.”

You welcome the fire and suspire with sudden desire, eyes lidding. Your heart begins to thump. Namjoon studies your reaction. 

“You remember well, don’t you?” He nudges his nose against yours. “I was in awe of you just the same.” 

It’s impossible not to remember. The memory consumes your mind every waking hour. Gets you needy in ways you haven’t felt before. Namjoon had you sat on his lap among the fluffiness of your innumerable pillows and plushies. Had you do all the work as he focused on the sleekness of your freshly moisturized calves, its coconut aroma interfused with the scent of sex and the euphony of your bounces, ragged breaths and broken moans making his head all fucked up. He was loud himself, more loud than you ever recalled him being. Reading your body at the mercy of the pleasure his hard length was giving you with his bottom lip sucked between his teeth. Not once did he take his eyes off of you, not once did he help you. Just gripped your calves. Your thighs. Your tits all in his face. Only when you came hard, out of your own delightful merit, did his eyes roll back. You left his hips glazed with the evidence of your well-deserved orgasm, a porcelain statue made glossy.

A little later, during your pillow talk, he told you he’d found the idea of you using him while getting yourself off extremely hot. Made him more hard than he’d been in a while. Begged you to be even more selfish next time, adding an indistinct, ‘well, of course, if you want’ to the end of his sentence because he’s Namjoon.

“I do,” you breathe. “Touched myself to it this morning while you were still asleep.”

Namjoon groans. “God.” He kisses the side of your neck. Gets close to your ear. “You wanna do it again, hm? Wanna fuck me?” 

You might burst. His closeness, his heat, his need to ask for your consent turns you unstable. You’re choked up on your words, mind too fuzzy to say something. Turned on. Fucked up.

“You wanna show me how you touched yourself?” Namjoon continues, but you shake your head against the side of his face. 

You had touched yourself in the shower. Couldn’t say no to the impulse. Sharing that part of you for his eyes to see isn’t something you’re quite ready for. To you, it’s still something that’s yours. Something private. A courage you have yet to pluck up. You’re afraid to give him this last part of your femininity.

“Not today,” you whisper, planting a kiss on his neck. Feel him shiver. “I’m sorry. Do you mind?”

Withdrawing from your neck, Namjoon looks you dead in the eye, brows twisted in stern seriousness. “Don’t ever apologize for something like that again. Hear me when I say that.”

You squeeze his shoulder, the corners of your mouth lowering in a pout. Thankfulness grips your heart and suddenly it’s hard to breathe. 

“You know this is why we do this right?” he asks you. “Why I ask you these questions? I need to always know what you’re comfortable with so I don’t make a mistake.”

You nod. “Yes, Namjoon, I know and I’m so thankful.”

“Good. I’ll never push you to do anything you don’t want. Don’t forget that, okay?”

“Okay, I won’t.” 

“That’s my girl. 

You grab him by the back of his neck and engulf him in a hug. Luckiest girl in the world? That you are. The fact that you’re his is still something you can’t wrap your head around.

“We can stop. We don’t even have to do anything tonight—”

“No, Namjoon.” You withdraw. “Look.” Wrapping your hand around his wrist, you slip his hand beneath the confines of your panties. 

His breath shakes when he reaches your soaked folds. He traces your hole with his middle finger and your hips follow his movement, the pleasure so faint but so good that you flutter your eyes closed.

“Fuck, baby.” 

“Yeah, I need you. Need more,” you breathe out. “Can’t leave me like this, can you?”

Namjoon hums. “No, I’ll take care of you. I’ll take care of this pussy.” 

He kisses you. Massages his tongue against yours. You buck your hips into his hand and Namjoon hears your body language. Takes his fingers up and rubs your swollen clit from side to side, quickening his pace as he swallows your moans down his throat. Gets angry at your tight leggings hindering him in giving you more, so he gets on his knees and swiftly pulls them down along with your underwear. 

“Sit on the counter.”

You comply right away. Namjoon takes your feet in his hands and gently removes your slippers, removing your garments fully so they don’t pool around your ankles. He needs your legs spread and he needs them spread wide for what he’s about to do to you. 

Torso long enough to reach you, he remains on his knees. Runs his hands up the back of your thighs to guide you into the position he wants you in. “Lock your arms around the back of your knees. Don’t let go.”

You do as he says, biting your lips in nervousness. Intertwine your hands together. Prepare yourself to die. 

Namjoon studies your dewy pussy, index and middle finger mimicking the letter V as he slides them up and down your folds, squeezing just right to hear you mewling. Your knees being so close together makes her look a lot more pillowy and you hear Namjoon breathe hard, absolutely hypnotized by the beauty of your flesh. 

“Fuck, baby, you’re dripping down my hand.” He withdraws his fingers to show you how your slick trickles down the lines on his palm, changing the course of his life once and for all. 

Your clit throbs, breath matching his. “Please, Namjoon.”

He curses inaudibly. Brings his fingers back down to your folds, squeezes your lips and your clit together. Hisses at the sweet whimpery sounds spilling out of your mouth. Presses tighter so you whine needily for him. Takes you into his mouth when he accomplished what he wanted, tonguing your clit in slow agonizing circles that has you buckling your hips again. Puts his hands on your thighs to keep you down, flicking fast to absolutely abuse the fuck of you. Dragon eyes zeroing on yours, he gives you the hypnosis that your pussy did to him as he sucks on your bundle of nerves. You can’t even scream. Can’t breathe. The pleasure overwhelms you wholly and straps you down. There’s nothing you can do but take it. 

You come hard on his tongue. Namjoon laps it all up gladly. And when he’s finished, he stands up and slips those two digits that ruined you into your hole. Doesn’t move them. Lets you adjust instead.

“One more,” he mutters. “Please.”

You nod.

“Use your words or we’re stopping.”

You groan and close your eyes, your thighs visibly shaking in your iron grip from your orgasm. “Yes, Namjoon, one more. I’ll come for you.”

Namjoon places a wet kiss on your thigh to praise you, and to thank you as well. Begins to move his fingers promptly, but can’t seem to get enough of your skin. Proceeds to make it shiny with his liquid love, sucking it to bruise you. To remember this moment a little more fondly in the morning. 

Creating a trail up to the back of your knee, his digits pick up the speed. The pool of slick you left in his palm sloshes with each rapid thrust of his hand. He looks back at you and sees you lost in the pleasure, eyes lidded and unfocused. “Look at me.” 

You do, weakly.

“Just a little bit more and I’ll fuck you, all right?”

You’re about to nod, but decide against it. “Mhm, yes, Namjoon, fuck.” 

He smiles down at you. Your relief inches closer. “I’m so proud of you for speaking up today. For letting me know.” 

You could cry right now. Because of his fingers making you feel so good. Because of his kindness making you feel so safe. It all closes in on you and you whimper. 

Abruptly, Namjoon unravels your grip on your knees and kisses you, tongue slipping in. You come all over his hand, without meaning to, and he doesn’t stop. On the contrary, Namjoon fucks you harder. Takes all four of his fingers and strums your clit, prolonging your orgasm, swallowing down all of your moans. 

“Come on.”

Namjoon helps you down. If it weren’t for his arms holding you steady, you would’ve collapsed on the floor. Your legs shake, muscles taut and tense. 

“I got you.”

Sat on the floor with his joggers and boxers pulled beneath his crotch, he pulls you down on his lap. A wisp of precum adorns his tip and you wrap your hand around it, collecting it with your thumb. Watch him as you swirl your tongue around the digit before sucking on it, letting go with an obscene pop. Namjoon licks his lips, hands clasping your hips hard enough to bruise you. Twitches in your other hand.

“Don’t fucking do that to me, baby.” 

You laugh almost inaudibly, drunk on him. “Are you gonna come in me?” 

He replaces your hand, holding his length at the base for you to sink down. And you do, gasping softly at his thickness. Your dewiness helps it to be a smooth ride.

“Gonna pump you full. Leave you dripping,” he promises, voice restrained. “Gonna fuck you so good you’ll remember it for the rest of your life.” 

One thing about Namjoon, he’s a man of his word. 

Seated perfectly on him, he waits for you to adjust. Alleviates the tremble of your thighs with his palms, massaging the muscles. Takes off your shirt and flings it across the kitchen. Gropes your tits, rolling your nipples between his fingers. You start to grind on him, throwing your head back. He latches onto your nipple and flicks the nub with his tongue. You lose your mind, leaking down his balls. 

“Ready?” he asks against the fullness of your breast. 

“Yeah, fuck me, Joon.” 

He thrusts into you once to watch you fall apart. Locks your arms behind your back. Grabs your forearms for his use.

“You forgot something.”

He thrusts again, harder this time.

“What?” you breathe out, meekly. 

“What word do you use when you want to ask for something?”

He watches you as you work it out in your brain. Fucks into you three more times, equally hard, to disrupt you. 

“Fuck, sorry. Please, Joon, please.”

He grinds, hips rotating in circles. 

“Uh-huh, that’s right. Now use it.” 

Namjoon envelops your tit in his mouth, swirling his tongue around your areola. Sucking. Keeping up the agonizing pace. Groaning when you clench down on him. 

“Please, hmph, fuck me.”

Your breast bounces back when he lets go, biting his lip. “Knew you could do it,” he coos. “Smart fucking girl.” 

He begins to fuck you properly. Thrusting up and down as he holds you steady, keeping his eyes locked on yours. As he takes control of your squirming, leaving his fingerprints on your forearms and waist. You’re breathless, whimpering, on the verge of sobbing. So turned on and needy for him that the emotions brim in you, threatening to spill over. 

“Aren’t you?” Namjoon continues. “Aren’t you a smart girl?” 

You nod, knowing exactly what he wants to hear. “I’m a smart girl.” 

He spanks your ass to reward you and you arch your back. Tits all in his face. He’s mesmerized watching them bounce and nearly slap against each other, nubs hard and pointed. He licks them up, flicking them with his tongue. You round your shoulders a little in pleasure, his strong grip not letting you fold like your body wants. 

“That’s right. So smart and good for me. So fucking wet. Making me lose my mind.”

Namjoon kisses you. Inhales you. Withdraws only for a mere second before he’s back, tongue in, toying with you the way you like it. You feel your relief calling your name.

“Namjoon, I’m so fucking close. I’m so close. I’m gonna come,” you whine, forehead pressed against his, face twisted in ecstasy.

Namjoon stops out of the blue and slips out of you. You whine loudly, but before you know it, he carries you to the couch and lays you down on it. Takes off all of his clothes until only his silver chain remains, shining bright in the dim light. He spreads your legs, one limb over the backrest, the other around his thigh. Grips his length and tugs at it a few times, the feeling of your wetness making him slippery pulling moan after moan out of him. 

He enters you again and resumes his fast pace, holding your calf in his hand. “Smart girls come on the couch, not on the floor like whores. You got that?” 

You nod almost too eagerly, fucked out beyond measure. “Yes, Joon, please make me come. Please, come here.” 

Namjoon leans towards you, propping his elbows by your head, cradling you. “I’m here. I’m gonna make you come.” 

From this angle, he fucks you more deeply than before, his tip reaching your cervix. You roll your eyes back, but bring them right back to his face when his chain taps you on the chin. You find it so hot that you grind your hips against his, meeting his thrusts, encouraging him to fuck you harder. The chain meets you in erratic staccatos and you scratch your nails down his bare back, the sword-like pendant hurting you in a way that you like. 

Namjoon notices. Slows down his movements. Pinches the chain from the back of his neck. Prompts you to lift your head and slides it over, letting it rest in the middle of your breasts. Then fucks you back into the couch.  

“So fucking beautiful,” he murmurs against your lips. “Gonna breed you. Hm. You want that, don’t you?”

The cord tightens in your lower belly. The bulge of where his tip is hitting you nudges him in his stomach and he looks down. Curses. 

“Look.” 

You follow his eyes and moan. “Namjoon, Namjoon, please come in me. I’m so close. Wanna feel you. Please.” 

He grunts, nodding his head. Licks his fingertips and presses them against your clit. Pleasures you in fast and swift jerks until you’re knocking your head back. Only when he grabs your jaw and kisses you does the cord snap, his lips being your ultimate undoing. 

Namjoon presses you down with his body, keeps you calm and collected. Kisses you all through it, your jaw, your neck, your cheeks. Then his thrusts turn sloppy and his cock twitches in you. He gives you one final hard thrusts and fills you up, groaning against your mouth.

You’re smoothing down the sting of your scratches on his back when he pulls out of you and his cum drips out of you. You wish you could see what he sees, hand on his mouth, careful to catch his drool. You push out more for him and he curses, fondling your pussy with his thumb before he pumps it back in. 

He comes back to you and kisses you. Fixes your hair. Caresses your cheek. Helps you stand on your feet as he leads you into the shower. Washes every inch of your body, heedful of the bruises he left on the back of your thigh. Lathers your hair in your favorite shampoo. Wraps you in a towel. Wanted to moisturize your body, but you told him off, knowing both of you would get horny again. You let him brush your hair, though, placing a comb in his hand. He’s gentle as he undoes the knots, then he blowdries your hair. 

And you do the same for him.

Once the pillow touches your cheeks, you’re both out like a light. 

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist

[xcrust]

Now in Technicolor

Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss x Reader Insert

“Tune in folks! demons and damned souls, welcome back to the sultry airwaves of Hell's very own station. I must say, dear listeners, Hell has a certain charm, doesn't it? A cacophony of screams, the crackle of flames, and the subtle whispers of secrets that linger in the shadows. It's a splendid orchestra of despair, and I am here to be your guide through the infernal playlist” 

You expected the man to be insane but you didn't expect him to be so unshameful. 

“So, grab a pitchfork, kick back, and let the music of the damned serenade your darkened souls! Now let's talk about my latest massacre-” 

As of the moment you're not actually with him. Though him doing his broadcast that reigns in all of hell almost feels like he's still beside you all along. As your point of freedom away from your family you decided it was best to get to know hell from the very people that walked the streets. 

Since he began taking you under his wing, you decided to stay with him till you find your place to settle down. 

You were an early riser so the radio was not really a bother. The weird universal agreement to decide night and day here is such a fascination to you. Nevertheless being hell meant there was never a time without someone awake causing chaos. The game plan of working your way up the charts is what your dad always said while growing up, "Don't take shit from other demons”. Starting with that is to gain a more hopeful advantage in knowing the people. 

“Watch this!” a really grimy voice screamed out. Looking that way you could see a few imps running around gathering people's attention.

One taller than the average imp stood with horns adorned in flickering embers, cackling with glee as he addressed his chaotic minions. "Listen up, you fiendish crap! I think it's time to start a new and take back what should be rightfully ours”

In the heart of pentagram city, the joy that you get from seeing the disaster is always so fulfilling. You may be new to these parts but boy does it give you a rush. 

A sleek abyssal demon slinked through the crowd, leaving a trail of illusions in its wake. The demon could not only morph into various grotesque forms but the path that it was leaving behind was startling and amusing onlookers. As it danced between the dimensions of reality and illusion, confused demons stumbled into each other, inadvertently causing a chain reaction of minor skirmishes and squabbles. But what you didn't expect was for him to come up to you. 

“They do this every week, by now it should get through their heads no one is going to listen” His voice was deep. It was such a buttery kind of smooth. 

“I don't know there seems to be a crowd starting” with a smile you look up at him to see an amused look on his face. 

The scene in front of you did intrigue you a lot. The bottom of the food chain in hell trying to make a voice for themselves. Their treatment is a peculiar mix of disdain and indifference. Larger demons may kick an imp out of the way without a second thought or summon them with a snap of their fingers for trivial purposes. Imps are often subjected to the capricious whims of their more powerful counterparts, enduring cruel pranks and occasional bouts of aggression.

Though you never thought that, though treated as the lowest rung of the demonic hierarchy, imps often find themselves at the mercy of their more powerful counterparts. They serve as the labor force, taking on a myriad of roles and responsibilities that range from menial tasks to dangerous assignments. Whether it's cleaning the twisted architecture of demonic structures or scurrying about as messengers delivering missives between the higher-ups, imps are ubiquitous fixtures in the daily hustle of Hell

“The pride ring is the top show in these parts and what do we get?! We get booted to the side and have to deal with the hypocrisy of these stupid standards!!” Those who spoke up before started chanting about rights for imps. 

Certainly something that you would stand behind. Maybe it's a closed minded thought process but what was the point of souls from earth having more respect than the ones from here? 

The heartbreaking sight was to see them run out. Demons of all kinds were starting to riot against them. In the face of adversity, the mischievous imps vowed to continue their antics, proving that even the smallest creatures could leave an indelible mark on the tumultuous canvas of Hell The Hellraisers disappear into the chaotic crowd, leaving a trail of bewildered demons and a street strewn with toppled stalls. with mayhem reigning supreme in the darkened streets.

“It's stupid and kinda sad to watch” The man stood beside you huffing out. 

“Aren't you a hypocrite, you're an earthborn yourself aren't you?” the ego that these people have never stops amazing you everyday. 

“Yeah… just because I'm here doesn't mean I'm set in stone as a bad person… Though looking at you, I'd guess you're like myself but you look almost a little too perfect for a human” crossing his arms he looked at you. 

“That's because im-! You know who you are anyways dickbag”  This guy was seriously putting you off. Comparing you to whatever those disappointments are. 

“Pump the hate breaks… I'm Walter by the way.. Since you asked." The cadence of his voice was so politician based that it could lead you to go insane. 

As the chaos unfolded around you, Walter's nonchalant demeanor seemed to contrast sharply with the tumultuous scene. The imps' attempts to rally for their rights had escalated into a full-blown street brawl, with demons of varying sizes and shapes joining the fray. The air resonated with shouts, roars, and the occasional yelp from an imp caught in the crossfire.

"Quite the spectacle they're putting on, isn't it?" Walter questions raising an eyebrow

You observed the chaos with a mix of fascination and concern. The imps were outnumbered and outmatched, yet their resilience and determination to stand up against the status quo intrigued you.

"Yeah, it is," you replied, eyes still fixed on the scene. "Seems like they're fed up with being pushed around."

Walter chuckled, a dry sound that echoed through the cacophony. "Oh, they've been trying to make a statement for ages. It's almost cute."

"Cute?" You shot him a disapproving look. "They're fighting for their rights. It's not cute; it's necessary."

Walter's gaze lingered on you for a moment before he shrugged, unimpressed. "Necessary, maybe. But in Hell, it's a matter of survival. Those little imps are just making noise in a world that won't listen."

The riot continued to escalate, with fiery projectiles, illusions, and general pandemonium swirling around. Amidst the chaos, a trio of larger demons emerged, their expressions twisted into malicious grins.

"Looks like the big guns are stepping in. This is where it gets interesting." you said while stepping back to not get caught in the crossfire. Values and morals aside, sometimes seeing stuff play out is widely more interesting than anything else. Fuck you sounded sadistic.

The trio of demons seemed to relish the opportunity to quash the imp uprising. With a wave of their hands, they conjured dark energy, sending shockwaves through the crowd of imps. You could see the smaller demons being tossed aside like ragdolls, their attempts at resistance quickly crushed.

You felt a surge of empathy for the imps, caught in a cycle of oppression and rebellion. However, Walter's detached demeanor left you conflicted. Was he merely observing the chaos, or did he revel in the anarchy that unfolded before him?

Leaning into you his dark haze felt almost suffocating. "Well, darling, what do you think? Will the imps triumph or become another forgotten footnote in Hell's sordid history?" 

The question lingered in the air, emphasizing the harsh reality of Hell's hierarchy. The imps' plight seemed both desperate and valiant, a stark reminder that even in Hell, some fought for a semblance of dignity and recognition. 

“Whatever, if this is just a game to you, I hope your luck runs out” you remark before heading out of the city center. Being around him made you miss the annoying voice of alastor. 

Walking away from him was the easiest thing that you could do. His attempt to engage you in conversation, using terms like "darling" with a sly smile, only added to your growing irritation. It felt like he was mocking not only the imps but also your own principles and values.

The crimson glow of dawn began to seep through the curtains of Alastor's luxurious suite of his radio booth, signaling the end of another night's radio broadcast. The room, adorned with vintage furnishings and an air of refined chaos, bore witness to the aftermath of Alastor's nocturnal endeavors.

reclined in an opulent armchair, a contented smirk playing on his lips. The room still echoed with the faint whispers of his charismatic voice, which had reached every corner of Hell during the broadcast. The radio equipment, adorned with dials and adorned in a distinct retro aesthetic, hummed softly, now temporarily dormant.

 Alastor found his thoughts occasionally drifting to the enigmatic (Y/n). a peculiar newcomer to Hell or at least to what he thinks. had managed to capture the attention of the radio demon in a way that he couldn't quite dismiss. The glimmers of defiance in (Y/n)'s gaze during their encounters had not gone unnoticed. Alastor, who revealed in the unexpected and the unconventional, found a peculiar satisfaction in the mystery that surrounded them. In Hell, where familiarity often bred contempt, the unknown was a rare and exhilarating novelty.

As the first rays of dawn bathed the room in a warm glow, Alastor's posture shifted. He rose from the chair, his movements graceful and deliberate. Despite the seemingly chaotic nature of his radio persona, there was an undeniable elegance to his every action.

Alastor pondered the significance of this newcomer's journey through the infernal landscape. Why could he feel such raw power? Though why is it that he is reminded of himself when thinking about them. 

Walking over to a nearby table, Alastor poured himself a cup of tea. The delicate porcelain clinked softly against the saucer as he sipped the hot beverage. The tranquility of the moment contrasted with the lively chaos he had orchestrated just hours ago.

Thinking back to last night, With a casual flick of his wrist, when he summoned ethereal tendrils that danced like shadows in the night. These spectral appendages slithered through the air, reaching out to the trembling souls and ensnaring them in a web of malevolent energy. The very fabric of reality seemed to warp under his influence, distorting the surroundings into a nightmarish landscape.

Alastor's mind, ever calculating, reflected on the success of the night's broadcast. The intertwining melodies of jazz and hellish commentary had woven a tapestry of entertainment, capturing the attention of listeners from the lowliest imps to the loftiest demons. The echoes of laughter and applause lingered in his mind like a symphony of souls.

As the jazz tunes from a nearby record player filled the air, Alastor reclined in his chair, a sly grin playing on his lips. The prospect of weaving the reader into the ongoing narrative of Hell sparked a mischievous glint in his eyes. (Y/n), in their apparent defiance of the expected norms, had become a wild card in the devil's deck of amusement.

 Getting up to Leisurely strolling through the lavish suite, Alastor glanced at a vintage record player. He selected a vinyl record, the soothing crackle of the needle finding its groove as the melodic tunes of an old jazz number filled the room. The music, a stark departure from the energetic chaos of his radio show, created an ambiance of refined tranquility.

From below his window he sees these peculiar picture shows from down below.

"My, my, attempting to disturb the delicate balance of my little corner of Hell? How utterly quaint.” 

“Hey! I'm back! Damn, is it a lively scene out there,” you call out as you stride into your shared living space.

Alastor, reclining on a vintage armchair, smirks in response. "Ah, my dear (Y/n), chaos is the very essence of this delightful realm. One must learn to appreciate the symphony of suffering that plays around us."

"Yeah, well, it's just something that I'll make work in my hand,” you reply, taking a moment to glance around the eclectic decor of your hellish abode.

With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Alastor stands up abruptly. "I know you just got back, but we are going out!" His enthusiasm is palpable, and you can tell he has something interesting in mind.

“Wait, I think I had my share—” you try to speak out before being abruptly grabbed by the arm.

“Come on, my dear!” In a flash, you find yourself whisked out of the apartment, leaving behind the familiar surroundings for whatever adventure Alastor has in store.

"Alastor, where are we even going?" you asked, trying to keep up with his brisk pace. His usual grin widened, revealing a hint of mischief.

"Patience, my dear (Y/n). I have something intriguing to show you," Alastor replied, his voice carrying an air of secrecy.

He turned to face you, his expression unreadable. "I thought it would be delightful to pay a visit to our esteemed TV demon. After all, shouldn't we take a look at all kinds of media?"

Before you could voice your reservations, Alastor pushed open the doors of the Vox Network headquarters, leading you into the opulent reception area. The robotic sentinels stood guard, and Vox's voice echoed through the room.

"Ah, Alastor! A pleasure to have you in the building! , What a delightful surprise," a booming voice echoed from the center of the room. Vox, the flamboyant TV demon, materialized in a cloud of static. His slick, metallic appearance glowed in an array of colors, and his screen-like face displayed a perpetually changing expression. his screen displaying a charismatic smile.

Vox extended a hand towards Alastor. the radio demon simply walked past to which earned a small glitch seen at the corner of his screen. 

“Seems you've brought a pet?” The fact that no one knew who you were was starting to get on your nerves. Calling you a pet? Well that's something that will make you riot. 

In the face of Vox's condescending remark, you felt a spark of irritation flicker within you. Alastor's dismissal of the TV demon's extended hand had left a peculiar glitch on Vox's screen, a subtle indication that the flamboyant host wasn't accustomed to being ignored.

"No one's anyone's pet," you retorted, asserting yourself in the opulent reception area. The robotic sentinels glanced in your direction, their mechanical eyes narrowing as if registering an unexpected anomaly.

Vox's screen shifted to an intrigued expression, the colors dancing in an erratic display. "Ah, a voice from the shadows! I must confess, I wasn't aware we had a new player in this delightful game."

Alastor, leaning against a holographic display, observed the unfolding interaction with a glint of amusement in his eyes. "She's no pet, Vox. Just someone with a taste for chaos and curiosity about your little empire."

Vox chuckled, the sound reverberating through the sleek surroundings. "Chaos and curiosity, my favorite combination! How intriguing! So, (Y/n), what brings you into our glamorous world today?"

You crossed your arms, a defiant gleam in your eyes. "I'm not here to be entertained or become anyone's spectacle if thats what youre thinking.”

Alastor stepped in “We just thought we'd see what all the fuss is about."

Vox's screen displayed a mix of amusement and curiosity. "A renegade spirit, I like it! But you're in the presence of yours truly and We don't do small things here. Let's skip the foreplay and get into it. How about a little deal? I'll make you an offer you can't refuse."

You eyed Vox skeptically, wary of the gleam in his screen. Alastor, seemingly unfazed, glanced at you with a sly grin. "Go on, (Y/n), entertain his offer. He has no power or specialty. We might find something amusing in his little game."

“Ok first fuck you alastor and no way in the seven rings would I join you I wouldnt join anyone” The prospect of dealing with Vox made your skin crawl, but the allure of navigating Hell's media empire intrigued you. 

Vox's screen flickered with a mix of surprise and subtle annoyance as you firmly rejected his proposition. The colors on his metallic visage swirled in a display of shifting hues, mirroring the complex emotions running through the TV demon's circuits.

"Well, well, aren't you a feisty one, Are you sure about not joining anyone? You seem like a loyal dog to that freak" Vox mused

Your resolve remains unshaken, and you meet Vox's screen with a defiant gaze. "I don't need your offers, Vox. I'll find my own way through Hell's chaos."

Vox's laughter echoed through the opulent reception area, a mix of genuine amusement and an underlying sense of challenge. "Very well, (Y/n). Should you change your mind or seek a taste of the limelight, you know where to find me.”

What a bitch… At this point you were at your limit so you walked out to the side of the room to not entertain this conversation. The fucking nerve of these people. Even Alastor was being a little bit of a shit at the moment. 

“There's a certain allure to the unknown, wouldn't you say?" Vox pondered aloud, his screen displaying a charismatic smile.

Alastor, still leaning against the holographic display, turned to you with a smirk. "Well done, my dear.”

Alastor's antlers grew as he stood before Vox, his crimson eyes piercing 

"Ah, Vox, my dear fellow," Alastor began, his voice carrying a melodic tone laced with a subtle threat. "I hope you enjoyed the rejection dance my little friend here performed. Now, let's get one thing clear – I don't dance to anyone's tune, especially not yours. You might be the new shiny toy right now but people always come back to the original"

Vox's screen glitched momentarily, revealing a flicker of irritation.

"What's the meaning of this, Alastor?" Vox demanded, his voice losing some of its usual charisma and taking on a sharper edge. "You come here and start bitching at me about not joining me?! We've already established that” 

“You underestimate the consequences of refusing me, Alastor," Vox hissed, his voice losing its previous charm entirely. "This will be my realm to control, and those who reject my advances often find themselves in a far less favorable position."

Alastor chuckled, the sound echoing in the extravagant reception area. "Consequences, Vox? I've faced worse in my time. Your attempts to control the narrative may work on the masses, but not on someone who knows the art of chaos."

As Alastor turned to leave, Vox seethed with frustration. The TV demon couldn't fathom being denied, and Alastor's rejection left a lingering tension in the air. Vox's screen displayed an animated storm of chaotic colors.

A surge of annoyance swept over you. Alastor's encouragement of Vox and his apparent amusement at the situation grated on the reader's nerves. The reader couldn't fathom why he enabled the TV demon's actions especially considering the TV demon's manipulative and self-serving nature. To make matters worse it really felt like he was making fun of you. 

“Fuck off Alastor”

"(Y/n), this is Hell, and power here is earned through deals and influence. If you want to make your mark, you have to start making deals," Alastor advised in a tone that was both casual and instructional. His words resonated with a hint of amusement, as if he relished the idea of the reader navigating the treacherous landscape of Hell.

“I'm not some social experiment, why are you still here?” however, was taken aback by Alastor's nonchalant attitude toward the situation. The idea of making deals in exchange for souls seemed like a slippery slope, and the reader wasn't sure if they were ready to embrace such a cutthroat approach

“Embrace it, and you'll see just how intoxicating the taste of power can be." he replied

If they were to survive and thrive in Hell, understanding the art of making deals was a necessary skill. With a determined nod, they acknowledged Alastor's guidance.

"Alright, Alastor. Teach me the ropes. I might as well learn how to play this game if I'm going to survive in Hell," the reader conceded, a resolute glint in their eyes.

“Im staying with you, but if you even think about being an ass while other people are around you're going to be counting your last minutes” 

“Doll, if you can barely stand up for yourself, I don't think I have anything to worry about,” he laughed out.

He's seriously pushing your buttons right now.

“As an overlord, you have dominion over a specific territory or domain within Hell. This grants you considerable authority and control over the demons and souls, you want that right? Power?” he asked.

All of a sudden you heard a loud bash of commotion coming from a group of demons that appeared to be fighting.

Pushing through the crowd, they discovered a group of demons surrounding none other than Walter.

One of the larger demons, a hulking figure with horns resembling twisted spires, look with disdain. "This fool thinks he can waltz into our territory and act like he owns the place."

Walter, bloodied but defiant, attempted to maintain his composure. "Now, now, gentlemen, there's no need for such hostility. Let's talk this out civilly."

The demons surrounding Walter scoffed at his attempts at diplomacy, clearly unimpressed. The reader couldn't help but feel a surge of annoyance at Walter's earlier arrogance.

"Perhaps, my dear (Y/n), we should let this play out. It's always entertaining to witness the ebb and flow of power dynamics in Hell," Alastor mused, his eyes glinting with a sinister delight.

"Come on! Do something about this!!, you can't just stand there and watch!" Walter's voice cracked with a mixture of pain and panic as he pleaded for help. 

"My, my, Walter, seems like you've landed yourself in quite a bind. Who would have thought our charismatic friend would face such a predicament?" you said out loud

“please! I'm not cut out for this kind of roughing up!" Walter's words were desperate, his eyes pleading for intervention. The demons surrounding him laughed, reveling in his vulnerability

“Oh please you were such a bigshot earlier, get yourself out of this mess”

ignoring the demons' taunts, you whispered out a proposal which the smoked and leaned in closer to Walter and whispered the terms of the deal. The specifics echoed in the demonic air, forming an unspoken pact that hung heavy in the atmosphere.

"Deal," Walter agreed, relief washing over him as the terms were settled. The demons, though momentarily confused, soon found themselves turned to dust. 

Alastor observed the scene with a raised brow, intrigued by the sudden turn of events. The reader's willingness to strike a deal for Walter's soul added a new layer of complexity

Looking back up to him and smiled, “is this what you wanted?”

As Alastor continued to observe the chaotic scene unfolding before him, a smirk played on his lips. The demons surrounding Walter, still reveling in the prospect of his impending downfall, were oblivious to the subtle yet profound shift in the power dynamics.

"Well, well, it seems you've decided to make a deal. How delightful!" Alastor chuckled, his eyes gleaming with amusement. The atmosphere shifted, charged with an unspoken agreement between you and Walter.  

“Now, now, gentlemen, let's not keep our eager audience waiting. After all, this is shaping up to be quite the dramatic performance,” Alastor commented looking at the rest of the demons that just fell dead, staring at the corpses with a dark amusement lacing his words. He leaned casually against a nearby demonic structure, his radio-like grin widening.

[that-irrelevant-ricecakeaddict]

"Baby we're high on you."

Drug Dealer!Seonghwa x f!reader x Drug Dealer!Hongjoong

Shout-out to @seventhcallisto for helping me with the planning and writing of the smut scene <333 Do check out her writing!

Parts 3/3 of Drug Dealer! Seonghwa

>>Part 1:"She's a regular here..."

>>Part 2:"Use me like a drug!"

CW: threesome, unprotected sex (stay safe guys), switch!matz, drug dealers!matz, mentions of illegal activity, a little bxb action, lmk if I missed out anything!!

< [y/n]’s dms with Seonghwa >

Hwa 💞: sweetheart?

Hwa 💞: I kinda need need your help with something

Hwa 💞: It's a big favour…

you: What is it? You know I'll help however I can

Hwa 💞: Well, Joong and I need a safe place to stay at

Hwa 💞: That big raid on PARADIGM is happening soon, and many dealers are closing shop temporarily to avoid getting caught in the crossfire from the probable gang clash, MATZ included

Hwa 💞: Do you think we could crash at your college dorm for a week or two?

Hwa 💞: It's completely fine if it's too much of an inconvenience, of course!

you: Hwa, I'd love to have you guys stay over! My roommate is actually flying off tomorrow to visit her parents in her home country. She'll be gone for the next month, so you guys are free to stay longer than 2 weeks if you need to <3

Hwa 💞: Thank you so much, my love 🫶

< Present >

Your fuzzy socks swished against the floorboards when you scrambled over to the front door at the sound of the doorbell. Quickly pulling a stray lock of hair aside to make yourself look a little more presentable, you unlocked the door, coming face-to-face with your raven-haired boyfriend.

“Seonghwa!! You're here!”

You practically launched yourself into Seonghwa's arms, earning a chuckle from him. He tilted his head downwards to kiss your hair, wild hair strands tickling the tattooed skin on his neck. You hummed appreciatively in response, and snuggled into his snakeskin blazer. The two of you stayed this way for a moment. An annoyed voice from behind Seonghwa suddenly spoke up.

“If you guys are done making me feel single, I'd like to be able to put down my things.”

You leaned around your boyfriend to see his best friend and partner-in-crime (literally), Hongjoong, standing behind him, the fur from his fluffy winter hat seemingly irritating his eyes. He stumbled slightly under the weight of the heavy duffle bag slung across his shoulder. “Oh, sorry– let me help you with that,” you mumbled. He sighed and shook his head. “No, I'm sorry, you're the one helping us out here. I'm just feeling annoyed because of all the admin work we had to do for a fucking gang clash that we're not even involved in.”

You let him step around you to enter the apartment, while Seonghwa patted his best friend on the shoulder. “It's for safety precautions, Joong. Closing MATZ temporarily is better than possibly losing it, we've talked about this.” Hongjoong huffed in response from the living room, a loud thump indicating that he had plopped himself on the couch there.

Once certain that Hongjoong was out of earshot, Seonghwa leaned downwards, gesturing to you to listen carefully.

“Hongjoong's been more stressed from this whole ordeal. Usually he just has to deal with shipment schedules and arrangements, but the raid on PARADIGM gave him a lot more work to do, what with the postponing of shipments and smuggling tactics. He's also super ticked off about having to close shop, even though it's just temporary. Personally I feel like his current workload is equivalent to what I deal with on a daily basis, but, you know, to each his own.”

You listened attentively to his words, giggling quietly at Seonghwa's sassy remark at the end. He smiled and gave you a peck on the cheek.

“Thanks again for letting us stay over, sweetheart. We'll look after ourselves and do some chores around the place while you're at lectures, hm?”

“That would be so sweet of you. Though I'm honestly not complaining, since it means I get more time with you…”

“Mmm, I thought the same. But we,” Seonghwa's eyes lingered pointedly at the shorter man in your living room, “Won't cause any trouble. Promise.”

“I'll take your word for it, baby.”

Over the next few days, Seonghwa did indeed keep his promise of not causing any trouble. Emphasis on just Seonghwa. His best friend, on the other hand, was the exact opposite.

The living arrangements were as such: Seonghwa would sleep with you in your room, and Hongjoong would sleep on the couch in the living room. However, it wasn't long before you and Seonghwa found out that Hongjoong was secretly still doing deals with clients. And he was hiding his products in the crevices of your sofa. “The grind never stops, I gotta make that bag,” he'd protested when you confronted him about a box of ice that was shoved under a couch cushion. But thanks to Seonghwa's unlikely, but still plausible, argument of getting your dormitory raided under police investigation for illegal activities, he was able to get the younger man to get rid of the goods. Also, it wouldn't have been a very good look on you if Yujin, your roommate, came back to find tiny jars of weed rolling around under the couch.

Eventually, to prevent him from pulling another similar stunt again, Seonghwa and you agreed to let him sleep in Yujin's room, which was right next to yours and would let Seonghwa keep an ear on his best friend's movements. Hongjoong had readily agreed to this. Now both the threat of getting into trouble with the cops and the threat of dealing with Kim “your-couch-gave-me-a-fucking-backache” Hongjoong every morning were out of the way.

A few days passed after the new arrangements were made, and there was a particular morning that Hongjoong started acting weird around you.

It was the morning after the three of you had sat down together for a drink, celebrating you finally submitting a paper that had been torturing you for a week. Having gotten blackout drunk for the first time in a while, you didn't remember what had happened after waking up in the morning. You'd assumed that Seonghwa had just carried you back to bed after you'd fallen asleep from the alcohol (it wasn't the first time your boyfriend's had to deal with your drinking habits).

Yawning and scratching at your neck, you stepped out into the hallway, head aching from the hangover and stomach grumbling for something savoury. The sound of water running in the shared bathroom indicated that Seonghwa was taking his usual morning shower, so you decided to make breakfast for everyone. You stumbled slightly into the kitchen/dining room, surprised to see Hongjoong slumped over a cup of coffee at the kitchen island.

“Joong?”

The man jumped slightly at you calling him. He'd evidently been spacing out before you made your presence known. He dipped his head at you, his unusually jittery eyes avoiding contact with your own.

“Good morning y/n…”

“Why're you up so early? I usually don't see you awake and aware of your surroundings until lunchtime.”

“Ah… I slept earlier than usual after that drink with you and Hwa. So I managed to get up earlier.”

Hongjoong took your hum as an approval. Sure, it was a lie, but you didn't know that. His breath hitched when you stretched your arms back, letting out a quiet moan at the same time.

“You okay, Joong? Did you drink too much last night?”

“A-ah, yeah…uhm, in fact, I really need to go lie down right now.”

“Oh, but I was about to make breakfast for us…”

“There's no need to make a portion for me! I'll join you and Seonghwa later for lunch, maybe.”

You pursed your lips at his hurried response, but shrugged it off. Hongjoong hopped off the elevated kitchen island stool, shuffling back down the hall and into his temporary room.

Once inside, he groaned and bit his lip, nearly drawing blood from how hard his teeth dug into his lip. Memories of the night before flashed through Hongjoong's mind. Lying alone in bed, shamelessly listening to you and his best friend fuck relentlessly on the other side the wall. Turns out you'd forgotten how horny excessive alcohol would make you. And the walls were, evidently, very very thin.

Hongjoong whined pathetically at the raging boner in his shorts, which had formed when you were talking to him in the kitchen. How was he supposed to face you after overhearing you at your most vulnerable state? How could he, after hearing your whimpers and cries of “Seonghwa, harder~”, his best friend's name that slipped out of your mouth like a prayer? How could he, after he had snuck a hand down his shorts, stroking himself to the rhythm of your melodious moans? He swore under his breath, making a promise to himself to just avoid talking to you alone until the gang clash was over, and he could finally leave.

That, however, proved very hard to do, especially with an intuitive man like Park Seonghwa in the premises. Being the observant person he is, he quickly picked up on Hongjoong's closed-off body language and evasive responses to your small talk. He immediately figured out exactly what was bothering Hongjoong, too. After all, on that night, Seonghwa was drunk but still aware enough to know that the younger man had probably overheard him fucking his needy girlfriend into the mattress. The only difference was that while it bothered Hongjoong and made him all flustered and embarrassed, it had actually been a major turn-on for Seonghwa himself. There had been plenty of instances when he had made out with or had sex with you in his office, the premise of possibly getting caught by his business partner always spurring him on. Sadly, Hongjoong had never actually walked in on it happening. However, staying in the same house as the two of you made it bound to happen. And it did nothing but excite Seonghwa. He would surely exploit this.

☆☆☆

Nearly 2 weeks into his and Seonghwa's stay at your dorm, Hongjoong laid across the bed, mindlessly reloading his messages. He groaned. Never would he have known that he'd ever actually miss the usual stream of texts from clients ordering from MATZ’s supply. It was quiet. Too quiet. He hopped up from the bed, opting to go watch a movie in the living room to pass some time. You and Seonghwa had gone out for a late-night convenience store run, and had taken Hongjoong's request for a dessert.

Plopping down on the couch, Hongjoong winced at the memory of sleepless nights on the cramped cushions. Sure, now he was sleeping in an actual bed, but with the things he's overheard next to his temporary room, was it really any better than the lumpy couch? His mind began wandering at this thought again. He bit his lip shamefully when he imagined your muffled moaning and whines from that night. He stared at the growing tent in his sweats, contemplating silently on whether he should do something about it.

Just as he was reaching for the boner between his legs, the familiar clatter and squeak of a key came from the door. Hongjoong quickly shoved a cushion over his lap and pointed the remote at the TV, playing a random movie to look occupied.

“Joong! Hwa and I are back!”

“And we got that rice pudding you asked for~”

You and Seonghwa walked into the living room, shrugging off jackets that were slightly wet from rainwater. Had it been raining? Hongjoong was too preoccupied with his thoughts to notice. He smiled gratefully at Seonghwa when he handed him a plastic bag, no doubt containing his beloved pudding. Hongjoong's eyes momentarily flickered up to the “MATZ” tattoo scrawled across his best friend's neck.

Drops of sweat and rainwater trickled down the blurred black lines and Seonghwa's dewy skin. Seonghwa was panting slightly, a red tinge on his pale face, possibly from running in the rain earlier on. Hongjoong's mind wandered again. Does Seonghwa pant like that and look like that when he fucks you? Would you kiss against his sweaty neck when he has you bent in half?

“Joong? I asked you if you need a spoon…”

Hongjoong snapped out of his thoughts when he heard Seonghwa speaking. He nodded quickly and mumbled a “yeah”, still avoiding eye contact with both Seonghwa and you. What the fuck? Why was he daydreaming about the both of you now? Maybe the lack of activity and work was really driving him mad. He didn't notice you standing at the nearby kitchen island, exchanging mischievous glances with Seonghwa who was leaning against the couch backing.

“Hey Hongjoong, have you been doing alright?”

“H..huh? What? Why are you asking?”

“You've been so closed off lately. Both Hwa and I have noticed it.”

Your voice was laced with sympathy, hiding your intentions. Hongjoong sighed tiredly and scratched at his neck. You made eye contact with your boyfriend, fighting the urge to smile at his knowing glance.

“Uh, yeah, I'm good… probably just getting used to the new sleeping arrangements.”

“No way, you miss sleeping on that crappy, old couch? I didn't take you for a masochist, Joong.”

Walking over to sit next to the younger man, Seonghwa prodded teasingly at him. You slid over and joined the duo on the couch, sitting on Hongjoong's other side. Hongjoong was still oblivious to yours and his best friend's movements, his fists clutched tightly on the cushion covering his rock-hard dick.

“I'm good… Just a little stressed about not being able to work, probably.”

“Ahhh, I see~ You must be really tense.”

“Mhm, look at him, Hwa! His shoulders are so stiff and tight.”

Without warning, you reached out and put your hands on Hongjoong's shoulders, giving an experimental squeeze. What neither you nor Seonghwa expected, however, was for a deep, drawn-out moan to escape from Hongjoong's lips.

Hongjoong's eyes widened and filled with panic at the realisation of what he did. Waving his hands frantically at yours and Seonghwa's blank stares, he jumped up from the couch and started talking at what seemed like a hundred syllables-per-second.

“Oh fuck oh shit I'm so sorry- I don't know why I made that noise, I've just been so tense and like stressed and shit- honestly speaking my shoulders are really sensitive, too, so like-”

The couch cushion slipped off his lap in his frenzy. Unbeknownst to him, this made you and Seonghwa notice the raging boner in his sweats. Hongjoong didn't even clock the knowing glance you and your boyfriend shared, instead continuing to ramble a stream of apologies.

“Hongjoong.”

“--I know, I know, it was extremely inappropriate for me to fucking moan in front of your girlfriend, Hwa!! Please forget what you just–”

“Kim Hongjoong!! I know you heard us fucking the other night!”

Both yours and Hongjoong's eyes grew as wide as saucers.

“Baby, what… what d'you mean?”

Your lips trembled, a deep blush appearing on your face as you hesitated to speak up. Your boyfriend had told you that Hongjoong had been sexually frustrated recently, but he'd conveniently left out the part about him overhearing the two of you having sex. Wait, was that why Hongjoong was horny in the first place?

Seonghwa offered you a soft, reassuring glance in response, the subtle clench of your thighs not going unnoticed by his sharp eyes. He quickly turned his gaze back to the man standing dumbfounded in front of the two of you.

He had never seen his best friend look so taken aback, flustered and embarrassed, all at the same time. Hongjoong's face was paused on an expression that screamed “oh-fuck-oh-fuck-oh-shit”. Seonghwa maintained a stern look, with you shifting uncomfortably behind him. The room suddenly felt very, very warm.

“Seonghwa, look, I….”

Hongjoong finally opened his mouth to speak, but he was cut off almost immediately.

“Do you wanna have sex with us?”

Your mouth dropped open in a silent scream. Hongjoong stared, bewildered, at Seonghwa, wondering if all the weed he did was finally catching up to him.

“I– excuse me?”

“Yeah, Hwa, what the fuck..?”

Seonghwa scoffed at both of you. He arched his neck onto the back of the couch, the tattoo on his neck seemingly dancing seductively against his skin as he did so. He slid a veiny hand down to your exposed thigh, cold rings against your skin earning a shuddering sigh from you. He smirked when he saw Hongjoong's boner twitch in his sweatpants.

“Don't act like you guys haven't thought about it! Hongjoong, I've seen how your eyes linger on my sweetheart's pretty tits when she wears her tank tops around the house. I'm not blind, I always catch you checking out my ass and my neck, too. You want both of us, don't you? And Y/N, right now, I can see you squeezing your thighs.”

Hongjoong watched with bated breath as Seonghwa's finger slid into the opening of your shorts. You jumped a little when his thick fingertip made contact with your soaking-wet panties.

“Fuck, babygirl, you got turned on from knowing that my best friend heard me fucking you into the sheets? You're so wet for us, so dirty, hm?”

You whined at his words, body instinctively leaning closer to him, before dazedly nodding in acknowledgement. Seonghwa smiled at this. He really knew your body and your kinks like the back of his goddamn hand. He then whipped his head at Hongjoong, who was slowly inching away, evidently debating between staying to see what was going to happen, or changing his name and fleeing the country.

“So? What d'you say to a threesome?”

“I…”

Hongjoong's eyes darted uncertainly to you. You were leaning against Seonghwa, eyes glazed over and looking very needy. Seonghwa cooed at you, at the same time reassuring the hesitant man.

“Don't worry. The two of us have talked about having sex together with another person. She's honestly as into it as I am, and who else would be a better candidate than my hot best friend?”

Hongjoong bit his lip in deep thought. Despite his years of friendship with Seonghwa, he did often think of the two of you at the same time, especially on those lonely nights in his bed. Even before he overhead you fucking. After all, you were a very hot couple. He attempted to reason with himself, taking a brief moment to weigh the pros and cons. But his dick was so hard it felt like it was gonna burst. And this could be the opportunity of a lifetime. Heck, it was practically being served to him on a silver-fucking-platter.

“Fuck, man, let's do it.”

♡♡♡

Seonghwa’s tough hands had gently spread your legs apart for Hongjoong. The other waited with bated breath when he finally got a good look at your damp panties. “Fuck” he hissed under his breath, and Seonghwa's lip quirked up into a smirk. Peering back up to look into your dazed eyes, Seonghwa parted one of his hands from your thighs to gently skim his fingers over your slit, causing your thighs to jolt. “Seonghwa~” you whined gently, turning your head into the pillow. “You're so wet babygirl” he murmured, glancing to Hongjoong who had been sitting there, his hands balled into his lap to keep them to himself.

“Go on joong, touch her,” he retreated his hand after skimming your clit through the fabric, another low moan falling from your lips. “And you, baby, don't move an inch” Seonghwa's voice spoke up once more, in a sterner tone this time. Hongjoong didn't have to be told twice, with a single look to confirm, he shifted to laying between your wide hips, guiding your legs over his shoulders.

You were soaked. Evidence lingered on the expansion of your panties, a dark patch of wetness that Hongjoong wanted nothing more than to indulge himself in. Taste and get lost in. His fingers parted your folds through the fabric, thumbing your clit gently as he ran his fingers around your slick. You breathily whimpered, already tired of the teasing - but willing to take it slow for Hongjoong.

“You look so fucking pretty,” Seonghwa groaned by your ear, lying next to you to hold your hips down. He knew you tended to get a little overzealous with your movements. You whimpered at the praise, guiding your hand through your boyfriend's hair to tug him on your mouth, a mess of tongue and teeth, the slight chill of his grillz, even when he pulled away to begin kissing along your neck. Generously pulling your shirt over your chest so he could shove his hands into the warmth of your breasts, kneading the flushed flesh.

“Not even a bra, fuck, wanted to play with these pretty tits as soon as I saw you in this tight ass shirt,” he hummed into your neck. Before you could reply, Hongjoong placed an open kiss on your clit through your panties, making you jolt.

Hongjoong’s tongue swept out to lick up the length of your cunt, humming at the taste of you, his nose ever so gently bumping against your clit every time he swipes through your folds, wetting you with his saliva and collecting all of the slick you've produced so far. A trail of heat building in your core from the foreplay, the rough pads of Seonghwa's expert fingers pinching and twirling your nipples has you clenching around nothing. With a whine, your head falls to the bed. “Hwa- joong- please,” you called out, needing to feel something in your pussy or else you'd go insane.

Or worse, beg for it. Hongjoong’s lashes parted to glance at Seonghwa. Lust, dark and heavy swirled in his eyes as soon as they clashed. Joong couldn't help but grind his hips forward into the bed, his cock catching at the front of his sweats, he swirls his thumb over your clit once again to apply more pressure. Watching Seonghwa squeeze once on your tits, exhorting another distorted sound from your lungs. “Are you gonna let Hongjoong play with that pretty pussy of yours, darling? Put his mouth and fingers all over you?” He murmurs, breath fanning over your ear.

You nodded your head eagerly, whimpering under your breath and shifting your thighs at the thought. The anticipation building up within you. Seonghwa's hand left your breast to grab your chin, pinching it enough so that your eyes popped open to see what he was doing.

Confidence was in every corner of Seonghwa's eyes, a dominance that would eat you alive. “Say it, sweetheart.” He purred, dropping his hand to crane your neck to look at Hongjoong, still rubbing circles into your sensitive bud.

His eyes - equally blown and lustful as Seonghwa's - were trained directly on you, your breath caught. “Hongjoong.. joong will you please touch my pretty pussy? Please.” You spoke with clearness, an eagerness only a person as demanding as Seonghwa would get out of you.

Hongjoong didn't need to be told twice.

He immediately dived in, tugging aside the crotch of your panties before attaching his mouth to your pussy. A loud moan tore from your throat when he began lapping at your already soaking folds. Surely your neighbours would've heard that, and would be complaining to you the next morning, but you could care less. He slurped relentlessly at your wetness, humming happily into your cunt, all while you squirmed and let out little “ah-ah”s for the two men. Music to their ears.

You cried out when Hongjoong's finger prodded the rim of your pussy, helplessly clawing at his hand to stuff his fingers in as far as possible. He scoffed under his breath, taken aback by your urgency.

“She's needy, isn't she, Joong?”

“Y-yeah, fuck…”

Seonghwa smirked at his best friend's reply, opting to tease him further when a mischievous remark came to mind.

“Bet you think about her crying for your cock, huh?”

Hongjoong blushed furiously at Seonghwa's cheeky accusation.

“S-shut up, man!”

He rolled his eyes at Seonghwa before stuffing his index and middle fingers into you. This pulled out a needy moan from you, twisting your fists into the sheets at the sensation of Hongjoong's fingers caressing your pussy walls. He couldn't help but groan at how your body just yearned for more and more of his touch. You clenched around on his fingers, cumming faster than expected. Hongjoong couldn't help but stare at you; breasts rising and falling from your orgasm, a thin layer of sweat that had formed on your dewy skin. He knew he just had to give you more.

Hongjoong looked nervously at Seonghwa, who was still laying leisurely across the bed and caressing your skin.

“Seonghwa… May I….”

“Hm?”

Hongjoong tried to speak up to the older man, but his words trailed off once more. Seonghwa knew what he was going to ask. And he already knew he would allow whatever it was. But was he going to let Hongjoong do it without saying it out aloud? No way in hell.

The prolonged eye contact between the two men made Hongjoong understood what Seonghwa was asking for. Sucking in a deep breath, he finally spoke.

“May I… Can I fuck her?”

Seonghwa's lips curled into a satisfied smile and he nodded, pleased with himself for having gotten Hongjoong to speak up for once.

Hongjoong fumbled with his belt, slipping it off with a click and pulling down his pants and boxers at once. His cock was rock hard and already leaking pre-cum. Even in your dazed state, you still marvelled over how girthy it was. It was not as long as your boyfriend's, but it was plenty thick and would definitely stretch you out. You whimpered when Hongjoong rubbed his tip over your entrance. He groaned at how your slick essentially served as a natural lube for him. Seonghwa cooed at you when you grabbed his hand for support.

“Aww, you wanna be stretched out by my best friend's cock, my love?”

“M-mhm, p-please~”

“It's his dick, not mine, sweetheart. Tell Hongjoong what you want.”

You mewled at Seonghwa's stern tone and turned shyly to the man standing between your legs. Sliding a hand down in between your thighs, you used your digits to stretch open your sopping pussy.

“Please fuck me, Joongie~”

If it was even remotely possible, Hongjoong felt himself grow even harder at your voice. How could someone be so fucking perfect? Who was he to deny you of your desires.

“Since you asked so nicely~”

Hongjoong chuckled and sank his dick into your hole, the wind in his lungs almost being knocked out from how perfectly warm you felt. He grunted and knitted his eyebrows in frustration, hips twitching slightly in place. It was taking everything in him not to just start thrusting into you at an animalistic pace. You sighed breathily when his girthy member pushed into you, whining quietly while trying to get used to his size. The entire time, Seonghwa was peppering kisses on your hand and rubbing his thumb soothingly over your forehead.

“That's it, love, you're doing so good for him, hm? It's almost like you were made for cock, baby, you look so precious right now.”

Your boyfriend hummed sweet nothings into your ear as you took deep breaths, your body slowly accommodating to take Hongjoong's thickness. When you were sufficiently stretched out enough, you nodded at Hongjoong, who gladly obliged to start moving.

The room filled with your whiny moans, mixed with Hongjoong's breathy grunts. Seonghwa watched on with a lustful gaze at the scene taking place before him; his best friend and business partner, rocking in and out of his sweet, beloved girlfriend's dripping pussy. He couldn't have been more turned on. He bit his lip at the sight of your cunt stretching out everytime Hongjoong pushed his dick into it, again and again. Your slick leaked out around his girthy member, giving it a sheen under the dim bedroom lights.

Seonghwa's eyes perked up when he noticed Hongjoong was starting to move faster. His thrusts grew more erratic and uneven, eliciting cries of “J-joongie wait!!” from you. Hongjoong was in the zone, his head thrown back and whines growing louder as his hips did anything but stop. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that he was about to cum.

This didn't sit right with Seonghwa. He could tell you hadn't cum yet, so why was Hongjoong rushing for his own orgasm already? Clearly he needed to be taught a lesson.

Seonghwa quickly got up and got behind Hongjoong, pulling him out of you and tossing him effortlessly onto the bed. You whimpered at the sudden loss of warmth, and Hongjoong let out a yelp of dissatisfaction. But before he could complain, Seonghwa held him down by his thighs and started furiously jerking off his leaky cock with his free hand.

Hongjoong's protests turned to desperate whines, his breathing growing increasingly turbulent, as his best friend twisted and pulled at his twitching cock. When he finally released, cumming all over his stomach and Seonghwa's hand. Seonghwa smiled, clearly pleased with himself. He jeered snarkily at Hongjoong.

“Looks like your stamina for fucking is the same as your stamina for your workload~”

Seonghwa then lifted his slender hand to his mouth, making it a point to slowly lick off Hongjoong's thick cum while making direct eye contact with him. The younger man watched with flickering eyelids, biting his lip so hard that it almost drew blood.

You watched the whole scene unfold with hooded eyes. Despite being upset over not being able to orgasm, you couldn't help but clench your thighs at the fucked-out look on Hongjoong's face.

After getting off Hongjoong, Seonghwa slid over to you, helping you to sit up and kissing you tenderly on your neck. Catching a look at your pouty expression, he murmured a quick apology and winked at you, before turning back to Hongjoong.

He'd finally recovered from his release, and was now looking irritably at Seonghwa.

“What the fuck was that for?”

“My sweetheart was nowhere near cumming, yet you were already chasing your own orgasm. Talk about selfish, Hongjoong.”

“Dude…”

Your boyfriend chuckled at the younger man's defeated body language.

“It's fine. We all make mistakes,” (cue Hongjoong looking offended as fuck) “Let me show you how to actually please an angel like her.”

Seonghwa laid you back onto the sheets, his eyes searching yours for any form of denial. Still such a gentleman even after he'd watched his best friend pound you like there was no tomorrow. You nodded eagerly, eager - heck, desperate - to give him any number of orgasms at this point. “My sweet girl,” he chuckled lightly into your ear, kissing down the valley of your breasts while slipping off his belt and pants.

You drooled at the sight of his cock lying against your thigh. No matter how many times you'd seen it, you could never get over how long and pretty it was. Flushed with beads of precum leaking from the tip, poised at an angle that hit your g-spot everytime without fail.

As Seonghwa lined himself up at your twitching hole, he turned to face Hongjoong, who was sitting on the other end of the bed and watching the two of you intently. His dick was already rock hard again. Seonghwa rubbed his hand up your thigh lovingly, actions clashing with the stern tone he would use to address the other man.

“Watch and learn, Hongjoong.”

He leisurely rolled his hips into yours, lengthy dick already rubbing against that sweet spot in you. You jolted at the sensation, hands immediately flying up to grip at his toned arms.

“Ah- ah, Seonghwa~!”

He grinned at how fast you were reacting for him, before setting a steady pace and leaving love bites all over your chest. He reached up to push your legs over his shoulders, strong grip leaving behind blurry red marks against your thighs. Your mind grew fuzzy within mere minutes. It was amazing how well your boyfriend knew your body. Your hands left his arms to curl into his hair, tugging lightly at his short, cute ponytail for support. His heavenly groans and your rhythmic moans mixed together like the symphony of an orchestra. Hongjoong could only watch and tug lightly at his dick, unsure of whose position he wanted to be in at that moment.

In between his heavy thrusts, Seonghwa made eye contact with you. He smiled radiantly, making your heart skip a beat. That loving, heartfelt look in his sparkly eyes and the expert movement of his hips pushed you over the edge. Your hips canted against his pelvis, orgasm crashing through you like a tidal wave.

“S-seonghwa, I-!”

You let out a high-pitched mewl, body shaking as you creamed around your lover's dick. A white ring quickly formed around the base of his still-hard cock. Seonghwa hummed satisfactorily as he swiped at your dripping release and stuck his coated finger into your mouth. You gladly obliged, sucking on his fingertip, tasting the orgasm you'd given to him. The hazy look in your eyes only steered him on even more.

Seonghwa leaned down, voice barely above a whisper.

“Think you can give me another one, love? Maybe stick Joongie’s cock in your mouth while you're at it? After all, he didn't get to finish in you~”

“Hwaa….but only you can cum in me..?”

Pride bubbled in Seonghwa's chest at your response.

“Mmm, that's right, baby. But we have to give him some sort of consolation prize, especially since he's been so patient.”

Hongjoong's whiny voice suddenly cut him off.

“Fuck, the two of you are so frustratingly hot, but weren't you supposed to help me?? My balls are about to fucking burst, and you having your little moment isn't really helping.”

Seonghwa clicked his tongue, sighing dramatically at the man's impatience. He quickly made eye contact with you, smiling when you nodded, a green light for the night to continue.

“You're so needy, Joong… get your ass over here.”

You'd never seen anyone get up so fast and run over. Seonghwa sat on the edge of the mattress, directing for you to sit on his thighs, your back flush against his chest. Excitement tingled in your core when he lifted you easily, sinking you onto his erect dick. You closed your eyes for a moment, getting used to his lengthy cock resting in you. When you came to, Hongjoong stood in front of you, his own heavy, leaky dick out on display. His expression was a mix of relief and desperation.

“You ready?”

“Yeah, man, fuck, let's just get to it-”

“Shut up! I was talking to Y/n.”

Before you could giggle at the two men's bickering, Hongjoong shoved his dick into your mouth. You could feel it pulsating against the opening of your throat. Taking a deep breath through your nose, you began bobbing your head up and down on him. Hongjoong moaned shakily, hands finding the base of your neck for support.

“She's good at sucking cock, isn't she?”

Your boyfriend sounded proud. Hongjoong could only groan in response, nodding eagerly at the same time. Seonghwa quietly enjoyed the scene for a short while before he started to thrust lightly into you, veiny hands squeezing the plush flesh of your ass. You gasped around Hongjoong's girthy member, your whimpers sending vibrations through him. He couldn't help but shudder at the sight before him; his best friend's cute girlfriend expertly deepthroating him, while said best friend sat below her and grinded into her plush ass. Your plump lips enveloped Hongjoong's cock again and again, allowing him to fully enjoy the view. Watching the furrow of Seonghwa's eyebrows and beads of sweat dripping down his forehead was the cherry on top. Who knew such perfect scenery existed?

It wasn't long before both men's movements began speeding up. You whined pathetically, trying to keep up. Granted, they were both sensitive from the previous rounds, but so were you.

You began bouncing your ass on Seonghwa, while simultaneously gulping on Hongjoong. The three of you let out increasingly loud sounds that echoed around the room; Hongjoong's grunting, Seonghwa's frantic pants, and your desperate sobs. They blended together with the sounds of skin slapping and slurping to form a melody, one so lewd yet so exquisite, merely listening to it would be as good as taking an aphrodisiac.

Soon enough, Hongjoong climaxed, hot cum so thick and copious that some leaked out the sides of your mouth. You hit your third orgasm of the night, body convulsing at the overstimulation. Seonghwa came last, his breath hitching as he jerked his hips one more time into your cunt. Your mouth slipped off Hongjoong's dick, and you let your head fall back onto your boyfriend's shoulder. You dazedly swallowed the remaining cum on your tongue, making sure to make eye contact with Hongjoong in the process. You didn't bother to get off Seonghwa's dick, opting to sit on it and bask in the warmth that was his milky release leaking out of your used cunt.

The 3 of you panted heavily for a few minutes, clearly still processing one of, if not the best orgasm any of you had ever shared with another person. In this case, your first orgasm that you'd shared with 2 other very attractive people. You eventually spoke up, getting the attention of both men.

“Did… Did I do good for both of you?”

Seonghwa and Hongjoong turned your way, with a wobble in your voice you asked - struggling with your throat from the amount of dick you've taken.

“Good? Fuck, baby, we're high on you.”

Hongjoong and Seonghwa unexpectedly spoke at the same time, making you giggle at how in sync they were. Seonghwa glanced up at Hongjoong, who was still coming down from his high.

“You finally relaxed, man?”

“Mm, yeah, Joongie, you were the whole reason we even did this…” you trailed off, pushing your hair out of your face gently.

“You bet I am,” Hongjoong sighed contentedly, before adding on, “Fuck, I don't even feel like going back to work anymore.. “

“Then I'd better not find any more weed in my couch! You have something else to think about, now.”

Hongjoong's eyebrows raised at your remark - disappearing into his sweaty bangs - surprised by your energy level.

“Aren't you exhausted?? You just took 2 dicks, you should be knocked out by now.'' Seonghwa chuckled at Hongjoong's remark, swiping his hand across your sweaty back.

“Oooo, he's got a point, sweetheart…I bet you could go for another round~”

You groaned and pulled off of Seonghwa, throwing yourself onto the other side of the bed. You pulled the sheets tight over your body, but not before shoving a pillow at the two men.

“Forget it!! You guys are mean. I think Joong rubbed off on you, Hwa!” You whined, clenching your thighs tightly- fluids still dripping from your core, despite the urge to roll over from the men - Seonghwa was already tilting towards you. Lightly palming your hip with a grin.

“Come on sweetheart, let's get you washed up."

Author's note:

Omgomg my first ever collab with another writer ahhh 🙌 the two of us worked very hard on this fic!! I hope you enjoyed it <33

Taglist !!: @luckyblue98 @dazzlingstarrs @spideyyoung @st4rhwa @stolasisyourparent @peppermintlattelover @bincxtesworld @mxnsxngie @wisejudgedragonhairdo @vixensss @ygswl @archaios @lunaclipse @beargyuuzz @nvdhrzn @puppyminnnie @crybabyzo3y @lolno-2323223 @staytiny816 @hwasfavgf @novocainecoon

[madschiavelique]

𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 (𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨'𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

summary : after the mission, all you can think about is Miguel, up to the point where you can't sleep because of all your thoughts. so you go to the strength and conditioning centre to try and exhaust yourself. but miguel pays you a visit there, and the training takes another turn...

content warnings : mentions of blood, (if there are any others please do tell so i can add them !), reader is obsessed, no use of y/n word count : 3,9k

note : this is dedicated to the beautiful @gollygothgal , with tension and hot miguel hehe. here's the 2nd part of the miguel 3shot thingy ! i hope you'll enjoy it. i am currently thinking about opening up requests for miguel, so if anyone has got a juicy idea they'd like to see written, don't hesitate to send it !! <33

chapters' list : 1 - lovebite 2 - late night training 3 - unexpected mission (nsfw) 4 - shameless (nsfw)

One punch.

He did it to help you, nothing more, there was nothing behind it, nothing unprofessional, nothing at all.

Two punches.

No, nothing, not even when you pulled on his hair and the moan in his throat vibrated into the bullet that was lodged in your flesh.

Three punches, the bag rocks.

Surely you're not the first person he's done this to, right? Dealing with this kind of wound in the middle of a mission must have been part of his daily routine after all.

Fourth punch, the impact spreads across the knuckles of your hand.

What if it wasn't? What if he'd deliberately decided to give you the special treatment of losing his time on the mission to take care of you?

Fifth blow, you were breathing hard. You stood back, your hands aching as they sponged your sweaty forehead with their backs.

It had only been a week since the last mission, and all you could think about was Miguel. Every five minutes the whole thing would start up in your head, sometimes so strongly that you felt it defined you. The spadassin of your logic kept chasing your imagination brazenly, it was trying to foam hollow ideas about him.

Was this scene really intimate? Or in your cruel lack of physical and sentimental affection had you simply imagined meanings for certain gestures that were pure delusion?

After the mission, while the anomalies were being properly stored, you went to the infirmary. There, you were asked questions that were still stuck in your head.

"What's that bite?" they asked about the two incisions Miguel had left in your skin, "and why is it all blue here? There's more ruptured blood than there should be..."

Apparently, the nurses had very rarely seen incisions of this kind on the bodies of other spider men or women, the only cases so far being on Miguel himself. The news had a strange effect on you. As for the clouds of bruises Miguel had left around the impact, the mere sight of them turned you into a red poppy.

So Miguel had never bitten anyone else on a mission to administer his painkiller... nope, let's not jump to conclusions!

Maybe gunshot wounds just weren't frequent on missions, haematomas or cuts were commonplace here.

After that, you were brought together with the others to report back. You hadn't been much help to the mission, apart from freeing Miguel from that foam. And after that? Too little contact and far too many thoughts.

The few times you saw Miguel, you only had time to say hello before he went about his business. The few words he'd say were "How's your wound?", and then he'd be off, busier than a minister.

And every day, as if you were watching the sky for a shooting star, you hoped. You hoped for a twinkle, a smile, just the possibility that your eyes might meet.

And every night, you would go over and over these tiny things that seemed gigantic in the eyes of your heart. And tonight, the same thing.

It was the hour when memories flood back, just when sleep goes on strike. You were trying to sleep, but you were tossing and turning, your mind replaying the whole scene like a power-point with multiple explanations attached to the images.

Just an focus, on the too pale clichés of a love story, on the state of mind of a woman without an alibi who dreams every night of a man whose existence you didn't even know existed until recently. Just a focus, for a little wink of survival, for all the fools, the love-sick, for all the victims of romanticism. Just a little wink, a focus.

You were tired of this perpetual propensity of your thoughts to redirect themselves to Miguel. There was nothing you could do, it was like trying to stop the sun from rising and setting. Because even with adamantine force, you can't stop the natural from happening.

You're more insignificant than the dust under his fingernails, you thought. Pull yourself together! Miguel has to look after a company of at least seven hundred people like you.

And it was true, Miguel had much better things to do than have anything other than a professional relationship with you.

You huffed and puffed in bed, sleep really not coming, so you put on your everyday clothes, prioritising comfort, and headed for the Strength and Conditioning centre.

If sleep didn't come, you'd wake it yourself. And so you found yourself boxing a sandbag. And honestly? It was harder than what you'd seen in the movies. Or at least, you felt some pain in your fingers as you punched, knowing full well that something was wrong, but not knowing what. The job of Spider Man wasn't new to you, but you had to admit that when it came to hand-to-hand combat, you missed some of the basics.

You glanced down at your hands, their knuckles reddened, and for a few seconds you remembered the ridiculously large size of Miguel's hand resting on your waist, then how it had felt when he had held your thigh in place, and you could have sworn that at that moment his claws had come out, sharper than a quarter of a strawberry.

If only it were possible for your mind to go on holiday, just to get away from the real Miguel City that had settled in your mind a little too quickly. You let out a grunt of frustration.

But your hair stood on end for a second - someone had just come into the room.

"What's wrong?"

You immediately turned your head towards the entrance, Miguel coming towards you. Your heart skipped a beat and you froze. For pity's sake, was this a dream?

The terrible thing about this mental affliction was that, although you visualised him more often than you should because you found that you spent less time with him, when the time came for you to interact as you would have dreamt of, the image of his red eyes went straight to the edge of your heart and you had the sudden feeling that you wanted to leave immediately.

If you come at any moment, I'll never know what time to dress my heart. Perhaps it was the extent of your desire that made you feel ashamed, and for fear that he would see it, hear it, feel it, you preferred to leave. But you stood your ground, giving yourself a mental slap in the face to pull yourself together as he came within a reasonable distance of you. There weren't enough moments with him, so you were going to make the most of them.

Your eyes widened slightly, because you'd never seen Miguel in normal clothes before. A hoodie with cut-off sleeves and loose jogging bottoms, simple and relaxed, but how could Miguel be relaxed? After all, he was Miguel.

He didn't look upset, which was a first. You were so used to seeing him frustrated, with that invariable weariness that accompanies him everywhere. On the other hand however, he was looking at you quizzically, and it was only then that you remembered that he had asked you a question.

"Oh, um," you said, resting the side of your fist on the bag, "I've never fought a war this tough, and to think that my enemy is just a sandbag," you smiled.

A sneer stretched his cheek, the thin crack between his lips letting a flash of light shine on his faintly glistening canines, and for a moment the image of them tracing your thigh came back to mind. It had left its mark on your mind, like a stain, and it won't wash off, no matter how hard you scrub your mind.

But a frown settled on his forehead, his eyes lowered to your fist.

"Hmm..." he said simply, crossing his arms over his chest.

You had to stop yourself squinting at them and keeping your eyes on his.

"Show me how you hit," he said.

You bit the inside of your cheek. Training with other spider-men and women was something you were comfortable with, the pressure was off, everyone learned a little from each other without judgement. But training in front of Miguel? The bar had been raised, the pressure of the stare oozing seriousness and criticism weighed on your shoulders.

Timidly then, you stepped away from the bag, and struck a blow with little confidence.

He nodded, the same retentive tt-tt being heard.

"Your fingers are in the wrong place," he raised his to show you, and as you mimicked his pose, he moved closer to you and took your hand to place your fingers correctly.

It was the first time you'd felt his hands naked against yours. They were far from soft, but they were warm, callused by time and effort. It seemed to you that he could lock your fist in his hand with ease, and the vision of his hands rearranging yours gave you the impression that every bit of skin he touched lit up and sparkled with little stars.

It must be that you couldn't mithridate your desires for him, your body and your thoughts returning to the charge to drink it all in, to take any crumb of his presence and his touch that you could get.

His annoyance seemed to return for a moment, his knuckles running over your reddened and cracked joints. He blew out a breath, and the frown disappeared.

"There, try it again", he said, barely moving away.

You came down from your little cloud and struck again. You were almost tempted to disturb your fingers again if it meant he'd put them back into place.

"Keep going," he said, taking a step forward and starting to circle around you.

You swallowed, continuing the task, taking great care not to look too ridiculous. You punched a few more times, Miguel having made an arc and stopped on your other side.

"Your posture is not right," he remarked, and you shivered as his hand came to rest on your waist.

Sliding gently over your belly, applying a minimum of force to better guide you to perfect your posture. You felt his hand come up and pull slightly on your shoulder, putting your arm back in a more favourable position at the same time.

"You need to find a balance in your body when you strike; if you put everything you have into your fist, the rest can be used too easily against you" he said, his tone calm.

But it was a little too complicated to follow his instructions now, especially when you felt his breath landing on your ear and the back of your neck. Every brush of his fingers and skin against yours made your cheeks flush and gave you a real peony look.

His other hand came to rest on your hip, on that famous protruding angle of the pelvic bone, to reorientate your body. You inhaled sharply, but tried not to make it too noticeable. All that was missing was...

"Is everything all right? Your heart rate seems to have increased."

... the same question as last time. This time, there's no way to pretend you're worried about your team-mates who are on a mission. So what's the excuse this time?

"I ate a cereal bar before I came here, must be the sugar, no doubt."

Wow. Beautiful. Brilliant. Fantastic.

You crossed your fingers that Miguel didn't pay any more attention.

"Hm," he exhaled, "just spread your legs a little... there you go, like that," he said as his hand lingered lightly on your waist before moving away from you again. "Show me," he asked, confident that his modifications to your position would prove useful in your training.

Already more confident, you began to strike again. And after half a dozen blows, you turned to him, a satisfied smile adoring his face.

"Much better," he said. He raised his hand to the level of his head, index and middle fingers together, wiggling them, indicating for you to move forward as he stepped back slightly, "Now, show me how you'd do it in real life."

Wait, was he really offering you combat training? The great Miguel O'Hara, who had no time but for the great multi-dimensional organisation of spider-men and spider-women, had just offered you training?

Hesitantly, you moved forward.

"So you want me to fight? With... you?" you asked.

"Who else," he replied, opening his arms to encompass the room, completely empty apart from you two.

"I'm going to get crushed," you smiled as you reached him.

"I'll do my worst," he offered, raising an eyebrow.

"Are you trying to make a fool of me?"

"No, otherwise I'd let you destroy your hands on the bag a bit more," he said, pointing at them, "you'll have to remember to put some ice on it.

Touché.

You felt a little guilty for taking up his free time, he who must have had so little leisure, so few opportunities to settle down without having to worry about anything. But at the same time, what did you have to feel guilty about, when it was he himself who had offered to help you? After all, it was he who had come to you. Was it simple pity then? No, let's not think about personal sabotage, let's just enjoy it.

"Come on, show me how you do it, I'll do it with one hand behind my back if you prefer." He says, not even pretending to get into a fighting stance.

"What an egalitarian spirit," you say, your voice coming out with a half-sigh, half-laugh.

Coming from one of the most capable and experienced Spider-Men in the society, how could you not shudder at the thought of fighting him?

So you positioned yourself, trying as best you could to put in place the investments he had just taught you. The thought of disappointing him was gnawing at the back of your mind.

Once you found your position sufficiently adequate, you dived towards him. With a move that seemed as simple as that, he dodged by leaning to the side while placing his foot against your ankle, so you fell pitifully to the ground.

Well, it wasn't going to be any fun after all.

"Remember what I told you," he said, coming towards you, holding out his hand, "if you put everything you have in your fist, the rest can be used against you too easily.

You looked at him for a moment, his brown eyes slightly crinkled by his little smile. Your cheeks warmed as you took his hand to stand up.

"Do it again," he said.

You breathed in, trying to concentrate and not think about the fact that you'd had more physical and vocal interaction with the object of all your thoughts in the last few minutes than you'd had in a week.

So you tried to balance your strength in your body, and came back to the charge, but you tried a surprise. You knew he'd probably see it coming a mile away, but why not try? So you gave him the impression that you were attacking him from your left, when at the last moment you deflected to the right.

And then you punched him in the cheek. The impact surprised you both, and Miguel took a meagre step backwards, bringing his hand to his cheek with eyes wide with surprise.

"Shit shit shit! I'm so sorry! Are you okay?" you moved towards him in a panic, as if to check him out.

You'd just punched Miguel O'Hara in the cheek. But then, just as you were expecting to be shouted at and slammed into a wall in the next few seconds, he smiled, and the smile became a soft laugh.

You looked at him, completely stunned by his reaction. No anger, no exasperation, no threats or insults in Spanish, just a little laugh.

"That's much better," he said. "Don't worry, I can handle punches, but I recognize this is a correct hit."

You fluttered your eyelashes a few times in surprise before just puffing out your nose, a little laugh taking hold of you as well.

"Come on, let's get on with it" he said, this time getting into a fighting stance. He sweated authority, while you sweated... period.

You nodded in agreement, and the two of you began a battle of successive dodges and punches that went wide. He was holding back, you could feel it. He didn't strike a single blow, just tiny smacks with the back of his hand. So you thought for a moment, you were going to surprise him like he had surprised you with his kick. Could you take down a man the size and width of a fridge? Doubtful, but nothing ventured, nothing gained.

It's as if, in the middle of the nettles, you'd found a patch of grass where you could put your foot down without stinging yourself. So you placed your leg correctly behind his knee, which surprisingly succeeded in throwing him off balance, and just as he was about to fall with a small stranglehold of his voice, his hand grabbed your wrist and dragged you down.

The shock was less, because you had fallen onto Miguel himself and his body had been used as a landing mattress. Out of breath, and not exactly aware of the situation you were in, you placed your hands on the ground on either side of his body to at least straighten yours and not crush him, your back bent like a wilting flower.

"Hey, is everything all right?"

Miguel grunted slightly, his eyelids reopening. Your breath caught in your throat as you realised the position you were in, and especially how close you were. Your faces only a few centimetres apart, your breaths colliding.

"Mhm," he said simply, "you did well, I must admit."

And as the simple feeling of victory took your heart by storm, Miguel grabbed you by the waist with both hands and rolled you onto your side, reversing your positions with lightning speed.

"But you're going to have to keep practising," he smirked, one of his hands separating from your waist to rest on the ground next to your head.

And your strength turned to water. Your gaze scanned his, and you wished you could see your own eyes just to know how much they betrayed you, especially when they inevitably drifted to his lips. You didn't need to lie to yourself, you wanted to, they looked so soft... It was the sensation of his thumb making a single, simple circular movement on your stomach that brought you out of your reverie on his lips, regaining his eyes.

"Distracted?" he asked, his eyes a little darker than before.

Sure enough, you had metamorphosed into a big red tomato. So your reflex was to bring both hands up to your face to hide it.

"Uh huh," Miguel prevented, removing his hand from your waist to move your hands away from your face, getting even closer. "What's there to hide, hum?"

His eyes seemed very observant of what was being said in yours, and you wondered if he could see all the emotions rumbling in your heart. You could feel the strands of his hair tickling your forehead and cheeks. The tension was so heavy and pervasive that you could have cut it with a knife.

"My desires," you whispered as an answer, clearing your throat and moistening your lips, your eyes moving tirelessly from his to his lips.

You gasp, the closeness between the two of you acting as a veritable truth serum.

"Tell me about them," he murmured.

You bit the inside of your lip, breathing softly. The inner battle was powerful. To remain silent and regret, or to say something and hope? What if it all stopped? What if it bothered him so much that he couldn't look at you any other way than uncomfortable? And what if... what if... And if I don't try anything, I'll never know.

"A... A kiss," you managed to say.

"A kiss?" he repeated, as if testing the taste of that word in his mouth. "Tell me, where."

You squirmed slightly, perhaps you'd be more successful in speaking your thoughts with your eyes closed? But when you shut them for a moment, you felt his nose brush against yours, his thumb on your hip again making circular movements.

"Where?" he asked again, both of you reduced to whispers. Still hearing no answer, he moved to kiss your forehead, "there?", but you shook your head. Then he kissed the top of your eyelid, "there?", and went on to kiss your cheek, "there?", his voice barely a whisper.

He brushed against your nose again, his lips barely grazing the corner of yours.

His eyes had a tender sparkle as he kissed them tenderly. His lips tasted of wood and rain, pulling back : "There?”

"Yes," you sighed, your eyelids half-closed, "there". You moistened your lips.

"I think I heard you wrong," he murmured. "Say it again."

You swallowed, trying to raise your head to kiss him again, but understanding your tactics, he buried his face closer to your neck, his lips brushing your ear.

"Say it again."

A shiver ran through you as his breath spread a wave of heat down your neck, straightening slightly to face you again.

"Kiss me, again."

And he came to kiss you once more, softly, dark and silent as the night. His hand ran down your body, up your side and over your back to push a little more of your body against his. Your hands came to rest on his cheek and back, your fingers snaking through his hair, nails lightly grazing his skull.

A moan bubbling up his throat reverberated on your lips, just like on the mission.

" If only you wouldn't make me want you..." he whispered between kisses, his mouth growing a little hungrier as his fangs nibbled lightly at the skin of your lip.

He came to kiss your jaw, your neck, drinking in your skin, breaths of ease escaping from your lips.

But suddenly, a small cluster of orange pixels appeared not far from your heads.

"Miguel we got a- oh hi there!" said Layla in a tone that was a mixture of playfulness and surprise.

You immediately turned your head to the side to avoid her, your cheeks flushing red. Your heart was pounding in your chest like a bird trying to get out of its cage.

"Go away Layla," he said though, his hand coming to take your chin, his eyes half closed, kissing you again.

"But Miguel it's-"

"It's very important for your future that you don't finish your sentence," Miguel growled as he moved from your mouth to your throat again, letting his canines lightly trace along your pulse line.

"And the situation is just as important for all our futures," Layla insisted.

Miguel grunted, sighing, and murmured softly:

"I'm sorry."

You kissed his cheek and he raised his eyebrows.

"It's okay."

He kissed your lips quickly.

"This is not over," he warned, sitting up and helping you to your feet. "Go and sleep now." Looking at your hand in his, he added: "And take care of this," pointing to your knuckles.

You nodded as he began to walk away.

"Oh yeah, Miguel has been keeping an eye on you!" said Layla, a small smile wrinkling her nose.

"What?" you asked, confused.

"Layla ?" Miguel called dangerously.

"Okay okay gotta go, goodnight!" she said, vanishing into thin air to come and stand next to Miguel.

The two of them left the room, and you looked at the exit.

What had just happened?

next part >> unexpected mission (nsfw)

[magics-neptunes-things]

I've got McCabe

Hi guys :)

So this is a request from here (never been so quick in my life) and I've never write with Katie before so I hope it would suit you all!

Enjoy :)

TW : Love fight, swearing, Nothing else I think

______________________________________________________________

Being Katie McCabe’s girlfriend is something you cherish in everyday life. Everyone knows her reputation on the football fields, and you will never deny the truth of this, but Katie obviously has good sides to tip the scales and drive you crazy about her.

Your little bickering comes mainly from her Irish origins of which she is very proud, while you are just as proud from your Scottish origins. You certainly don’t have a team as strong as England or even Ireland, but your talents have allowed you to be spotted by Arsenal for many years and this is where you still play today. Needless to say, where you met Katie.

For today, you don’t know exactly when your mutual teasing started. You have learned over time to respond to Katie when she starts teasing you, not wishing to leave her the last word every time.

The problem today is that neither of you seems to want to admit defeat. What started out as childish games is nicely being transformed into something else while a certain mutual annoyance is being felt on both sides.

Your teammates must have felt it, Leah grabbing Katie during the lunch break while you almost get kidnap by a Beth Mead apparently more than happy to show you pictures of her puppy. You can’t say that it didn’t work, you are literally a fan of this little cutie.

But after the lunch break, when the training started again, it only takes a little teasing from Katie to start again. And again, you don’t want to let it pass, there’s no reason why it’s always you who gives up, after all.

The limit is exceeded just at the end of the training, while Katie asks you to please go store her dumbbells with yours. Already having yours to carry and a ball in the other hand, you answer her that she only has to get up to do it herself. "Well, at least Ruesha would have done it for me." This one, it hurts.

You remain frozen a few seconds there before turning slowly in the direction of the Irish which seems to realize despite everything what she has just said. But Katie doesn’t add anything, just looking at you from the mattress she’s sitting on with wide eyes. "Fuck you, Katie" you mumble coldly before disappearing from the room. The idea of throwing the ball you hold in your hand on her head would have been tempting and you admit to having thought about it for a few moments. But you weren’t alone and it was out of the question for you to provoke a real scene with violence to the key. "Mate..." sighs Leah once you leave the room. "Wha' " grunts Katie without looking at the blonde. "That was a terrible comment" "Shut up" In truth, Katie knows very well that she has crossed the line and she is very uncomfortable. Hurting you is never her intention, she has always been very careful with her behavior with you, treating you like a princess on a daily basis. Except when she decides to test your limits like today. It never went that far though. Leah answers nothing, content to follow the brunette to the changing rooms to go shower and change. Katie frowns when she sees that you’re not there anymore and your stuff either. "She left. Alessia brings her home. And you’re definitely going to sleep on the couch tonight" Kyra informs her before going to take a shower. The information squeezes Katie’s heart, you live together, so it makes sense to travel together. But she particularly likes to see you in the role of HER passenger princess.

It’s with her mind elsewhere that Irish showers and changes, taking her time in seeking the best solution to fix things. However, it’s difficult for her to know what to do since she doesn’t know what treatment she will be entitled to once she arrives home.

Are you gonna yell at her? Ignore her? Are you even going to be there or will she be allowed a simple post-it on your fridge informing her that she just has to go to hell?

It’s not in a safe state that Katie gently open the door to your house. The living room is empty, but your sneakers are carefully placed on the shoe cabinet of the entrance, informing her of your presence at home. But you’re not in the part of the living room that she can see from where she is.

"Babe?"

Only silence answers her, which doesn’t particularly surprise her. You’re stubborn too and usually Katie liked that about you. But not today.

Sighing, Katie drops her bag at the entrance and walks a little further into the house. She finally finds yourself sitting at the kitchen table, apparently completely absorbed in your readings. Yes, because in addition to your training and games, you’ve been doing correspondence marketing studies. Just in case.

"Are you still angry?" Katie tries to get closer to you.

But you just answer her that a breath of the nose, without looking up from your book. If only she knew you couldn’t concentrate for more than ten seconds. You were really hurt by her remark, even if you think (hope) that she doesn’t think about it for a single second. What could be worse than being compared to her girlfriend’s ex by the principal concerned?

"Babe please, can we just…"

"Don’t fucking touch me McCabe!"

You jumped on your legs as she approached you, ready to put her hand on your arm. In your heart you obviously appreciated that she tries a reconciliation and that she tries to catch up, but it’s still too early for the moment. Your hands tremble with anger when you go to lock yourself in your room, slamming violently the door behind you.

********

"I don’t know mate, she seems really upset. She surname me!"

Katie walks around your backyard, whispering softly on the phone so you don’t hear her. She tried several times to knock on the door of your room but you never answered her, worse you even blocked the handle of the door so that she could not join you.

Leah, on the other end of the phone, has to admit that she is impressed by the strength of character with which you stand up to Katie. But Katie is still her friend and she obviously wants you to make up.

"At the same time, you compared her to your ex. Anyone would have taken it badly. I would have probably killed you."

"I know, Lee. But I can’t go back to the past, what do you want me to do?"

"Apologize?"

"She won’t listen to me, she won’t even let me in the same room as her."

"The good news is she didn’t strangle you" Leah comments with amusement.

"Not yet" answers Katie with a gloomy air.

"Let her calm down a little and in the meantime prepare an apology in good form"

"What do you mean?" asks Katie, mechanically looking up at your bedroom.

"Go get her some flowers, make her a candlelight dinner… what you know will please her."

"I have another idea" ended up answering Katie after a few seconds of reflection.

********

The night has fallen for a little while when almost timid blows are again thrown against the door of your bedroom. You sigh as you hear Katie’s voice rise from behind the door.

"I know you’re still very angry with me, but can you meet me at the livingroom please?"

You roll your eyes without answering, sitting on your side, back to the door. Now that the anger has dissipated, you realize that you were also hurt by the Irish comment. So you decide not to go. At least that was before you got a message on your phone.

Katie 🍀❤️ Baby please?

You let out a big sigh before you get out of bed. With your hands in yours (Katie’s) training pockets and your face frown, you finally leave your room. After moving the chair you had placed under the handle so that she could not enter.

When she hears your bedroom door open, Katie almost teleports to you.

"Can you close your eyes?"

"I’m not in the mood, Katie" you grumble in a low voice.

"Please" she whines.

You stare at her for a few seconds before sighing again and obeying. You let her take both hands to train you to the living room, stopping in the free passage left by the two sofas installed in the living room. Without letting go of your hands, Katie whispers

"You can open them"

You blink twice to regain clear vision and remain speechless in front of what was previously your living room. Katie installed cozy plaids and cushions on the sofa, she lit your fireplace and decorated the room with many Harry Potter goodies. You’re a fan of it, defending your house, Ravenclaw. Needless to say, the one you share your life with is from another house, which you confirmed when you forced her to take the test. Needless to say which one. (Slytherin)

On the coffee table Katie prepared bowls with several snacks and cups of hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows. Everything looks like one of those photos that are on Instagram. Well, almost. Because in these photos, there’s not Katie McCabe looking at you with as much apprehension as if you were a bomb ready to explode.

"I’m sorry I was stupid like that and I hurt you. I didn’t think about it and you have no idea how much I blame myself. I should never have said that when I haven’t thought about my ex in forever and even less since we’ve been together. I mean, of course we see each other when we’re training on the national team, but that’s it. She has nothing to do with you. I’m so sorry, Baby, I swear."

Katie rambles a little bit and you get to see the nervousness behind her clumsy speech. And it makes you feel terribly tender. Realizing that she still has your hands in hers, Katie gently pulls on it to draw you a little closer to her.

"I’m not just angry. What you said is hurtful, too, Kat."

"I know" she whispers, dropping one of your hands and putting hers gently under your chin. "But I don’t mean a word of it. No one can match you."

Your gaze in her blue eyes is enough to convince you of her sincerity and despair at the idea that you may not forgive her. It’s that side of Katie that you fell in love with as well, that part that she shows almost nobody. Katie is a loyal and attentive friend, which people know as well. But she is also a tender woman who enjoys cuddling with her girlfriend. You.

"I love you so much" she adds after a few seconds, pressing her forehead against yours. "Please, forgive me."

"Okay" you end up answering softly.

Her smile is so great of joy and relief that you can’t help but smile back.

"But on condition that we watch the first film" you add, pointing to the television with a nod.

"Anything you want."

Katie hurries to make you settle into the couch, perhaps doing a little too much by hurrying to bring a stool so that you can put your feet on it. But you let her, amused by her behavior. She then runs to dim the light in the living room, hands you a cup of hot chocolate and a glass of water if « the chocolate is too chocolate ». She tenderly wraps you in a plaid, asking if you want a cushion and arranges the food bowls so that you have everything near you.

"Are you missing something?" Katie asks, looking closely around her.

"Yes" you answer with a smile.

"What?"

"You."

Bowing an eyebrow, you lift a corner of the blanket in which you are wrapped so that she comes to settle next to you. What she does smiling, even accepting that you shift to allow her too to put her feet on the stool with you. After making sure again that you didn’t miss anything, Katie launches the film and you gently lean your head on her shoulder when she puts her arm around yours.

Ten good minutes passed when you look up at Katie’s face, lit by the lights of the television.

"Babe?" you call her gently, making her look off the screen.

"Yes?"

"I love you too."

A soft smile is born on her face and you would swear that it will remain there until the end of the evening. Including when she leans over you to kiss you right now, then every other time during the movie.

Katie McCabe may be a fool, but she’s your fool.

________________________________________________

So… Katie McCabe is a Slytherin, what do you think? 😂

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

📚inch resting bits from the march twst manga updates📚 (octa, savana, & 4koma!)

***Manga spoilers below the cut (with an emphasis on the Episode of Octavinelle, since that's my favorite dorm!)***

The 4koma manga has dropped! Again, it centers around the daily lives of the NRC boys and is shown in a 4 panel gag comic format.

In the illustration above, we see the main cast with Grim's beloved tuna cans~

This month has comics about Ace going to a supplementary lesson (to learn how to manipulate brooms to do his chores) and Leona attending his art class. The comic depicts Leona, Idia, and Rook in the same art class though we're not sure if this is true in-game yet. However, the comics do carry over the continuity of Ace and Deuce being in Trein's class so maybe the art class thing is also true of Leona?

From the Episode of Savanaclaw manga: I KNOW WE'RE SUPPOSED TO BE IN AWE OF DIASOMANI'S PRESENCE BUT ALL I'M THINKING IS THAT DIASOMNIA HAS A MOB STUDENT WITH A BOWL CUT 😭

I'm also really fixated on how this mangaka draws her lashes and hair, they're always bangers every time 💗

Ruggie "bleh" face... Also???? That full page of him using his UM... and the visualization of the wildebeests racing with him like the people in the crowd, very Lion King.

I like that the manga really shows us more emotional and intense moments the game cannot depict due to its limited assets. Here, we see the aftermath of Ruggie using his UM on the crowd. Even with Azul's magic-enhancement potion, Ruggie has taken a great physical toll from spellcasting. Falling to his knees, panting... This will make it hurt more when Leona almost poofs him to sand later 😭

These panels remind me of like. Scar looking on from up high while the hyenas do his bidding. Ruggie's expression... it's so full of a desperate kind of hope has he gazes up at his "king".

From the Episode of Octavinelle, we get to see Leona post-OB and recovering in the infirmary. Side note, I really love how the mangaka adds these cute little faces to let us know who is speaking in certain text bubbles. The little faces make some of the cutest expressions; just look at that cheeky chibi Leona head!

Here, Ruggie is telling everyone about rumors that Azul and the twins purposefully prevent their clients from fulfilling their end of the contract so they can reap the benefits. I like how the scene shown is a boat tipping over (with the twins implied to have flipped it). Nice callback to the boat scene in The Little Mermaid!

We have another The Little Mermaid reference here, where Floyd shares his UM with the gang?? The hypothetical man here reminds me of Prince Eric, especially in that white shirt and appearing as though he is drowning.

Guys... Azul's been taking modeling lessons from Vil-- I really like these more quiet and contemplative moments of Azul; plenty of those are featured this month.

asdbhlfdbaifyoaiygoeia I WILL NOW ALWAYS ASSOCIATE AZUL THINKING HARD WITH SITTING IN THAT CHAIR... There's so many shots of him seated here...

Yuuta continues to be my favorite manga!Yuu so far by diligently tidying up Leona's messy ass room for him... asfvkyadvfialf Grim looks so goofy helping out, that tower of clothes is half his size...

FLOYD'S FACE IS SO siLLy HERE TOO (this is the scene when Ruggie recalls seeing his eel form during a P.E. class where they swam). The mangaka really decided to summon his gremlin energy here...

Aaaaah, I love this shot; it sort of parallels Azul and Leona... It also makes me realize the difference between how Leona's hair is in Octavinelle vs Savanaclaw (due to the different mangaka). In Octavinelle, his hair is usually a solid black with white highlights but in Savanaclaw there tends to be a subtle gradient/screen tone on Leona's hair.

Anyway, twins Twins TWINS

GOOD WAY TO CLOSE OUT THE OCTA CHAPTER, EXCELLENT WAY TO CLOSE OFF THE OCTA CHAPTER IN FACT 🫶 Can you tell I love the Tweel parts/j

[joannechocolat]

Content Warning: contains scenes of graphic kindness; wokery; tolerance; profanity.

A few days ago, I posted a little Twitter poll, asking readers (and authors) what they thought of trigger warnings. I followed this up with a short thread, outlining my own thoughts on this, and how they have changed over the years.

The Daily Mail immediately seized the idea, and without contacting me, or asking for further clarification, published an article quoting my words, under a headline that was both inflammatory and untrue: Trigger warnings should be put on EVERY book to make readers feel 'safe', Chocolat author Joanne Harris says.

Predictably, this caused a frenzy of reaction from Daily Mail readers and Twitter trolls, including accusations of censorship and “pandering to moronic snowflakes”. Several people (who I suspect, have never even picked up one of my books) swore never to read them. One charmer wrote: “Fucking pathetic. What a dick the author must be.”

I don’t blame the writer of the article; most clickbait headlines are added by someone else - in this case, by someone who couldn’t even be bothered to read the article, let alone my original thread. It has since been quietly changed, presumably in response to my comments, although once again, without any communication with me. But as a result of these comments (and some more polite ones from people asking about the poll), I think it’s time I made it clear, both where I stand on trigger warnings, and why the public perception of them, fuelled by culture wars debates, is both skewed and inaccurate.

First, the result of my poll: about 35% of the people who answered were in favour of some kind of content warning. About 30% were against, and the rest were undecided, curious about the result. To me this suggests that most people are generally positive or undecided on the subject. From the comments, it seemed to me that many of the people who were against trigger warnings were afraid they might lead to censorship, or spoilers, or editing of the classics, or stopping people from reading the classics, or authors losing the right to free speech.

But here's the thing. Trigger warnings are nothing to do with those things. Here’s why people have been misled, and why it matters to put things straight.

First, this expression; “triggered.” Like “woke” and “snowflake” it has been weaponized to mean something like “upsetting the libs.” Reader, that's not what it means. The concept of triggering only applies to someone with PTSD or some kind of serious psychological trauma. That makes it irrelevant to politics. Anyone can have trauma. Anyone is potentially vulnerable to mental illness. And that’s why trigger warnings exist; to warn people who might suffer a relapse, or some other kind of serious harm, if exposed without warning to certain images, scenes or narrative strands. Some of the obvious ones might be sexual violence; graphic images; mental illness; eating disorders; suicide. I’m sure there are lots more. But we’ve had content warnings (if you prefer) on films for decades without any resistance, and TV shows routinely flag up scenes with flashing images, etc. that might trigger (that word again) an epileptic seizure in anyone susceptible.  

And yes, it makes sense. I mean, why would you want someone to have a seizure if you could just warn them against it? Who but a sadist would argue that people with epilepsy should be forced to have seizures, or that having regular seizures will make them more resilient somehow, or that people afraid to have seizures should just stop watching films and TV altogether, or that warnings against flashing lights would somehow spoil other people’s enjoyment of the show? And yet those are all things that people have said to me recently about content warnings.

To me content warnings in books are like content warnings on packaged food. Most people don’t read them, unless they have a special interest or need to know. Why do they need to know? There might be any number of reasons. Maybe they’re vegan, and want to avoid eating animal products. Maybe they have a religious dietary restriction. Maybe they have a mild allergy to peanuts or to shellfish. Or maybe it’s a more a serious allergy that could even result in their death. Either way, details are useful. Content warnings in books are the same, except that instead of triggering a physical attack, certain things trigger a mental one.

I'm not talking here about things that might simply cause offence. I sometimes use profanity in my books; I sometimes write about topics that people may find challenging. That's not going to change. I won't add content warnings for swearing, or nudity, or paganism, or LGBT issues. None of those things cause trauma, though I'm willing to believe they may in some cases cause offence.

But mental trauma is just as real as any physical injury. It’s not just “in your head”. It requires adjustments in the same way that any other condition may require adjustments - whether that's a wheelchair ramp, or subtitles on TV, or studs on the pavement to help the blind.

And yet, the culture wars narrative – led by a right-wing media - is leaning increasingly towards a “survival of the fittest” mentality; repeatedly encouraging able-bodied people to question disability, white people to question racism, rich people to question poverty, and urging those who have never experienced mental trauma to dismiss the needs of those who struggle with it daily. Empathy and kindness are presented as political gestures, earning “woke points” (whatever they are), rather than the elements of basic human decency. And of course, people who talk about “decency” in the context of nudity, LGBT issues and profanity often see no problem in labelling themselves “anti-woke”, or sneering at the “Be Kind brigade”, or making dismissive judgments about the lives of people they will never know. Somewhere along the line, somehow, basic human kindness has been reframed as a tool of the left, and those who hold right-wing opinions are encouraged to reject it.

Well, fuck that. People are better than this. Some people need content warnings, and it’s not up to you or me to decide whether their need is valid or not. That’s why, from now on, I’ll be adding including content warnings to my books, and to my author website. Ignore them or not, as you choose.

But to those who are offended by the concept of inclusion, here’s a trigger warning just for you: Contains tolerance; scenes of moderate kindness; depictions of graphic wokery. Read my books at your peril. Or don’t. Isn’t freedom marvellous?

[tarjapearce]

I had a cute idea of the soccer family and it’s like wife reader and Miguel after a long long day and they finally put kids in bed clean the kitchen from dinner and their both ready for bed in their sleep clothes and they decided to watch a movie but the movie its a sad movie when a kid dies or get really sick and the wife reader gets really sensitive about that cause she imaginé the movie kid as her own kids and start crying and Miguel it’s trying to comfort her (I already ask for this in another page but I think you would get this better) I think it’s a cute idea, love your writing. 🫶🫶

Omg, I saw a movie that reminds me so much to this!!! . Not precisely physically injured but yeah. Hope you like! ❤️✨

(If you're into drama, Watch it ❤️)

The quietness after another successful day in the O'Hara household meant another victory for daily activities. Benjamin was changed into his little blue and red onesie, and put to sleep. Gabriella was tucked in bed; You and Miguel were ready to enjoy a little time together before going to bed.

Miguel had been zapping through the channels, you cuddled him and he put an arm around your shoulders.

His eyes were settled on the tv, the scene of a blonde little girl looking at to what seemed to be her legal guardian, confused as to why there was a new lock in the door.

The movie title displayed on the bottom, 'What Maisie Knew'

"She's such a cutie" You mumbled as you watched the little actress making an appearance in school holding hands with a man as he walked her towards the classroom.

---

As the movie advanced you couldn't help but to cling to Miguel, he was as tense as you were. Seeing the characters fight over the custody of their only daughter and making her to choose gave your heart a doleful flip.

Eyes couldn't help but gloss at a certain scene, the little girl being awaken in the middle of the night just cause her emotionally neglecting mother thought it was a good idea.

Resentment, pain yet understanding were one of the primary things the movie had stirred within your pot of emotions but soon sadness joined.

How could a mother do such thing to her only child? Still was beyond you. You had tried to be empathic with the character, but still, was something your mind couldn't quite grasp.

Her neglect and abandonment was deliberated. Sussan didn't fight for her unless she saw Maisie being happy with others.

Fat tears rolled down your cheeks and Miguel frowned

"¿Estás bien?" (Are you ok?)

His hands pushed you closer to him on his chest as your head shook. He turned the TV off.

"How can she do that? Resent her own child to be happy. Like, she is a child! It's not Maisie's fault she's been an unstable woman."

Miguel gave a deep exhale and rested his head ontop of yours.

"You know that not many parents are meant to be."

"It only makes it worse to know that she is aware of everything that is going on. I just... ugh, I could... I could never do something like that. Marrying someone out of spite, dragging your kid into a grown up fight, and make her choose!"

You hiccuped and he wiped away your tears.

"It's just a movie, mi amor."

"I know. Still... It's so damn awful knowing that parents like these exist. I couldn't help but imagine Gabi like that. And God... I swear I'd fight with teeth and claws for her."

Miguel chuckled, a bit sadly. The sudden image of him and you fighting over Gabriella and Benjamin surely didn't sit right on his chest.

"You know we are far from perfect, right? Marriage wise."

You nodded and clung to him once more.

"But know this. We'd never get to that, ok?"

"Promise?"

"Te lo prometo. You're stuck with me forever, cariño." (I promise)

His lips kissed your forehead.

"Besides, think it as a win for Maisie. She gets to have loving parents that truly look after her wellbeing and those cabrones will think twice before having a kid again."

"At least they know they're shitty parents."

"Cierto. But don't think too much about it." (True that)

He cradled you in his arms and caressed your hair.

"That movie is banned from this household"

Miguel chuckled and nodded.

"Need a glass of water or tissues?"

"Hold me?"

"Of course."

[heraldofcrow]

Honest “Favorite Character” Asks 🌿

I can’t find character asks that suit my type of discussion, so I made some. These are meant to be somewhat personal, therapeutic, and pensive.

Send someone one of their favorite characters along with any of the following questions.

—

1. Do you project onto this character?

2. Did you always like this character?

3. What first drew you to this character?

4. Did you initially dislike/hate this character?

5. If this character were a woman, would you honestly still like them? Or in reverse, what if they were a man?

6. Do you have any nicknames or pet names you use for this character?

7. Does the character’s age matter to you?

8. Does the character’s looks/design matter to you?

9. Does this character remind you of anyone you know? Does that affect how you see them?

10. Do you see yourself in this character even without projecting?

11. How did you “fall in love” with this character?

12. If you could write effortlessly and as much as you wanted, what story (s) would you write for this character?

13. If you could draw effortlessly and as much as you wanted, what scene (s) would you draw for this character?

14. Are you physically attracted to this character?

15. Are your thoughts surrounding this character usually sexual, non-sexual, or a mix of both?

16. Have you ever cried when thinking about this character? Genuinely?

17. Have you ever felt physical pain over this character? (ex: physical heartache).

18. Do you prefer to see this character suffer or know peace? Angst or comfort? Both?

19. Does this character serve as a stress ball/ security blanket for you? Something you run to after a bad day to feel safe or happier?

20. Do you feel affectionate towards this character?

21. Are your feelings about this character platonic, romantic, or familial? All of these feelings at once maybe?

22. Do you think you will always love this character?

23. Has this character permanently altered or impacted your psyche in a way you won’t forget?

24. Do you ever dream about this character? If so, describe a dream you once had about them.

25. What kind of fan-fiction do you read about this character? If you don’t read fan-fics about them, why not?

26. If you look for this character’s name on AO3, what tags are you including or excluding?

27. Do you like to ship this character with other characters or do you prefer not to?

28. Do you get defensive about this character? If yes, then why?

29. Do you affectionately bully this character?

30. Are you especially sensitive about this character?

31. Are you ashamed of liking this character?

32. If you could make this character a meal, what would you make them?

33. Are you “blinded by love” for this character or do you accept any flaws they may have?

34. Does this character inspire you with little things in your daily life?

35. Has this character ever prevented you from sleeping because you can’t stop thinking about them?

36. Do you feel a spiritual/soulmate connection with this character?

37. Is your love for this character a secret from people you know in real life?

38. Do you tend to joke more about dying or killing for this character? Both? What causes the distinction?

39. Do you feel lovesick over this character?

40. Are you very empathetic towards this character? When they feel a certain way in the story, do you feel those emotions too?

41. Do you prefer to interact with this character directly via self-insert/reader type content? Or do you enjoy seeing them mostly with other characters in the story and/or your OCs?

42. If you could, would you write this character a song or poem?

43. What type of weather makes you think of this character?

44. Which season makes you think of this character?

45. Do you feel as if you are intimately familiar with this character?

46. How much do bad interpretations of this character upset you?

47. Does this character ever make you laugh sincerely?

48. What’s your favorite physical/design feature for this character?

49. What’s your favorite personality trait in this character?

50. Link your fav song, playlist, aesthetic board, fan-fiction, reference pile, personal artwork, analysis post, meme, headcanon, or quote for this character. Whichever one (s) you are most comfortable with!

[astralnymphh]

hopping on this train about the whole smut is overdone and sexualization of ellie thing since i'm bored ! i agree with the whole thing about certain scenes centered around struggle and sorrow being sexualized, and the watering down of her character— it definitely happens quite often, and whenever i do see those scenes where ellie is at her lowest i have a sense of like "my poor baby noo" so i can see that. think ive only used that image of her torn up back for reference once, but that was it. sometimes i do think her personality gets very misrepresented, but tbh i don't mind a purely cocky or purely loser ellie when it's done in balance. feel like when you write one, you get called out for not putting the other into play. unless im hallucinating. idk.

on the other hand, the debate about smut and the need for more angst, fluff, and plot— i'm a tinge in the gray area abt this. if you've seen any of my works (oneshots or series) especially copy that romeo, you know i'm a plot warrior 😭 unreleased knight!ellie is literally my most yappalicious fic (in the shakespearian way). yet most of my works feature smut, cause i'm either horny or feelin romantical, but also it's entertaining to write. tickles my pickle, mayhaps 🔥. but like, realistically? from the bottom of my heart? bottom of my booty? plot is hellacious to delve into. making stories from scratch or even sewing up a new path within the realm of a different video game— can be grueling. so, i can see why people don't jump into it as much. i encourage people to try, definitely, even a modicum of plot can really put the ommphh in your fic IF you are searching for it. but I'll be so so honest sometimes fleshing out stories makes me want to BOIL and get straight to the romance dialogue or whatever. so when i say i can see both sides— i do because writing smut woven by a majority of dialogue can be funner and simpler. like a little treat.

a lot of people debating this state these as opinions, and claim nobody is targeted in the process, but with the passion i'm seeing being bootyfucked into long long paragraphs, i just think that some names have to blossom to mind?? like almost indirectly, yknow? or maybe i'm just paranoid. i love love LOVE all the people debating this don't take this wrongly, TRUST i love some of ur accounts, especially those who like to analyze ellie's charecter I LOVE IT (i already forgot the name of the person who kind of sparked this whole thing but ily) but yeah. i just feel even opinions could be taken to heart by those who want to write, or write smut, and feel guilty for it. maybe that's how my brain works but. putting it out there ig.

anyways ELLIE WILLIAMS BREEDING KINK fic is in the works and that definitely has plot (kms) so buckle in for that ride!!!! 🔥🔥🔥💯💯💯

DAILY CLICK . IMPORTANT TLOU POST . PALESTINE INFO

[waggledoogledoggle]

⚠️Spoilers for Hazbin ep 4⚠️

⚠️Also, this post will talk about Abuse and SA, it is briefly mentioned a few times throughout the rest of this… whole long thingy I wrote⚠️

⚠️Also, brief mention of the scene where someone tried to drug Angel⚠️

Ok, I am just genuinely baffled at the people who somehow find a way to hate on 'Loser, Baby'.

Like, if you don't like Huskerdust that's fine... but 'Loser, Baby' is not overshadowing/brushing off Angel's SA. It's not victim blaming. And it's not Husk telling Angel to just shut up and get over it.

Like I've seen it so much, and you know what? Fuck it. Welcome to my TedTalk on why it's not all of those things.

For starters: Husk doesn't know about Angel's SA

When Angel has his vulnerable outburst (Side note, props to Blake I mean, they said 'take 5' he heard 'change lives') he talks about how he feels like he has to act the way he does to keep Valentino happy because he stupidly sold his soul to him. That he wants to get drugged up because that’s his escape. That he wants to be broken because maybe, just maybe Val will let him go. He wants to be free, but he can't and he has no one to blame but himself.

"What's the worst part of this hell, I can only blame myself" is literally the pre chorus to his song (Poison), and that is what he shares with Husk.

Not once does he bring up his abuse or SA. If he did, do you think a song would have even happened? Look how Husk reacted when someone tried to drug Angel's drink! Now that Husk actually genuinely cares about him? Dead. Dead. Valentino would be dead.

We as the audience know more than the other characters. We were given the insight of Angel's true trauma.l that he deals with on the daily. You can't get upset at a character for not knowing something they would have no way of knowing unless it was shared with them.

Moving onto the song itself, it's a song of empathy.

Allow me to explain.

Husk pinpoints perfectly what Angel is feeling in this moment:

"So things look bad, and your back's against the wall Your whole existence seems fuckin' hopeless You're feelin' filthy as a dive bar bathroom stall Can't face the world sober and dopeless You've lost your way, you think your life is wrecked"

When Husk starts singing, you can tell that Angel is expecting Husk to pull the whole "But that's not true! It's not hopeless! You're life's not wrecked!" and is very surprised when Husk doesn't.

Instead, Husks says "Yeah. You're right." And this is when a lot of the haters get angry- but hold on a second.

When someone is feeling all of those things, saying things like "That's not true! You'll be ok!" aren't helpful at all. That's brushing it off. Even if it may be true, that doesn't help anyone when they're feeling like hopeless, lost, losers.

Because that's sympathy, not empathy. Sympathy is feeling for someone, and trying to make them feel better. Empathy, is not trying to make them feel any certain way- better or worse- empathy is simply feeling with someone. And that's what Husk does.

During the first chorus, Husk is clearly teasing Angel a bit while doing so, but not without good reason. It's keeping Angel from closing back up again, he's being a little bit silly with him and teasing him. I mean, did you see the silly lil walk he did crossing in front of Angel? And Angel is super confused because he's like "how tf is this supposed to make me feel better??"

That's the thing. It's not. That's sympathy's job, not empathy's. Empathy just want's you to feel felt with, it doesn't want to tell you how to feel. And adding that bit of silliness gives Angel's vulnerability a chance to breathe and it prevents Angel from closing in on himself.

The next verse, pre-chorus, and chorus is when the empathy though really kicks in.

The next verse, is the first part of empathy: Sharing about a similar experience you went through.

In this verse, now that Angel is listening not just hearing, Husk shares that he has been gruesomely damaged. Calling back to what he shared literally seconds before the song. That he knows what it's like to sign away your soul, and constantly look back at it with huge amounts of regret. That knowing that moment is what turned him into the mess he is today, and that he has no one to blame but himself. Just like Angel.

Then in the pre-chorus where there's the whole:

"I sold my soul to a psychopathic freak Haha! And you think that makes you unique? Get outta here, man!"

That isn't Husk telling Angel to get over himself and this isn’t him undermining what Angel’s been through. That's him saying 'I did too, you're not alone’

And then the very simple word change from "you're" to "we're" in the chorus is SO FREAKING HUGE. Because Husk is essentially saying "You feel like a total loser right now. Ok. Then if what happened to you/what you went through makes you a loser, then I'm a loser too. Let's be loser's together." Instead of trying to make Angel stop feeling like he's a hopeless loser, he decides that he is too.

He meets Angel where he is.

Aka: ✨empathy✨

Angel finally feels seen, understood, felt with. All the goals of empathy. He no longer feels alone in what he is struggling with, which is HUGE! Especially for people going through/dealing with SA and abuse.

The bridge of the song, is also extremely important, because this is where they acknowledge the differences in what they're going through. Their root problem is the same, but how it messed up their lives and created the problems they deal with now are completely different

And that's around when the song begins to shift from just Husk showing empathy and comforting Angel, to them both finding comfort in each other.

Which you can clearly see by the chorus under the umbrella, where it's not just one of them singing the chorus, but it's both of them. Because they have found a place to go to and confide in, a place of comfort, with each other.

Like, I am genuinely concerned that people find this song toxic like... have- have you never experienced empathy before? Are you ok?

So yeah, to wrap this up, if you don’t like ‘Loser, Baby’ just because you don’t like the song in general? That’s fine (odd, but fine)

But if you hate it because it “undermines Angel’s experience and what he goes through” I…

words.

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk

[cartierdreamx]

THE LAST SLICE

good morning my sweet babies! hope your weekend is going more than incredible, just a short, sweet one shot i thought of when i randomly have the urge to write, hope you enjoy!! J <333

Pairings: jenna ortega x fem! Reader

Warnings: angst (? like if you read in between the lines😭), swearing, it’s really just fluff LMFAO.

Summary: jenna wanted a sign. 

Words: 2k+

This fic includes no NSFW themes, but my blog does have a minors DNI rule! you are responsible for your own social media intake, which includes reading entertainment, which this fic falls under. thank you!

~~

“You gotta be faster than that, Ortega.” You tease, sticking your tongue out as you take the last pizza slice, Jenna’s hand narrowly missing the food she had craved the most the entire morning, she knew the crew was going to order pizza for everyone just after the ‘cut’ was called for lunch to commence. But pizza being pizza, it was a war to get to the slices, unfortunately you and Jenna would be one of the last ones to get to the buffet table having need to debrief with each other, the director, and the producer about the scene. Luckily today, debrief was quick and the cheese with carefully placed pepperoni all over creating little pools of grease called out something, your name.

“I’m gonna kill you, l/n.” A stern brunette darts her eyes up at your as you take a bite, a bite so comedically insane she was so sure you were mocking her, to be fair, you are. “Oh, I hate you.”

“Mhmhm, I call bluff, you’re not going to kill me,” you roll your eyes, taking yet another sweet bite, killing Jenna just a bit more, “and plus, you love me.”

“No, I don’t.” Jenna was quick to shut the statement down, mostly to change the subject because she didn’t want to give you two wins today. You knew she loves you, you love her too, except the only difference is, she only reciprocated platonic feelings. It was an accident, but sometimes the best things come from accidents, falling for her was an accident, not a mistake, well you hope it isn’t a mistake.

By now, you were used to the daily making out with random actors and actresses, most roles you booked had a love story in it and you were a main love interest every time, what can you say, your charms hypnotised the world.

But there was a certain charm that washed over you, her, Jenna’s gaze was something, her heart was everything. She was, she is, your everything. To this day, you steal every look you can and when she catches you, a soft blush always surfaced its way to your cheeks, which only made her laugh. You promised yourself you wouldn’t fall for America’s sweetheart but it’s a whole lot easier breaking self-promises, and you also promised yourself, no matter what your delusions would tell you, she doesn’t have feelings for you back.

“Mhmh, you held the kiss longer than you were supposed to.” You retort, teasing her and only slightly flirting with her, making sure she doesn’t read into it.

She scoffs and playfully punches your arm, “BUT YOU DIDN’T BREAK AWAY!”

You play a sly grin, making her giggle a bit, “I didn’t hear cut.” You shrug. And before she could come up with a quirky comeback, your moment was slightly ruined by the producer’s son who has been shadowing his dad for the past few weeks and unfortunately for you, he was quick to pine over Jenna, who wouldn’t? The world’s pining over her, you’re pining over her, it’s no surprise he is too.

It’s no lie he made you jealous, not that you wanted any of his features or his personality, actually you think his personality is quite cheesy, he made you jealous because in your eyes, in your mind, Jenna was pinning over him too, you wanted her to pine over you, wanted her to want you the way he does, the way you do.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt, but can I steal Jenna away for a second.” He asks, she smiles, see, it was that damn nature of his that made her smile, that damn nature of his that you curse, although it wasn’t fair for you to dislike the guy for this very reason, it was your nature to wallow in angst every time they were together.

“You could steal me anytime, Idrys.” She giggles, making you die inside even more. You couldn’t bring yourself to say anything, just smiling and nodding at him, giving him the ‘okay.’ As he whisks her away, your eye stays locked on them, mostly locked on Jenna, watching her every move, jealousy brewing from your stomach seeping its way to your heart.

The delectable pizza was just a cold mush to you now, nothing about it was desirable to you anymore, that sinking feeling got to you, you toss the rest of your slice in the bin, but what you saw next made you even more sick, your eyes relayed the sight of Idrys towering over Jenna whilst she looks up, laughing flashing him with those dreamy eyes of hers.

“I love my son, but Jenna can do so much better than him.” Turning around, you see your producer pursing his lips at you, “I’m serious, y/n, they have no chemistry.”

“They make a cute couple.”  

“Wow, for someone who has an Oscar, you are a terrible liar.” Placing his hands on your shoulder, centring you down.

“I wasn’t lying.”

“But you weren’t telling the truth, they make a cute couple because they’re both attractive, and that’s it, they share no fire, you and Jenna do.”

“I am a great actress.” You cheese, trying to lighten the mood and hopefully change the subject, but that was a horrible attempt as it only directed the attention of your director to you two, which he thought it’d be a great idea to welcome herself into the conversation.

“That you are, but no one could act the way you feel about her, the way she feels about you.” She starts, “what you two have is real, and I mean more than just your friendship, like don’t get me wrong, that shit is cute, but the raw chemistry and love you two share, that is unmatched, his son can only imagine having that with her.” She looks to her side, shaping an ‘O’ with her mouth, “no offence, man.”

“None taken, you’re one hundred percent right, and plus, EVERYONE saw that kiss, she held it longer than she was supposed to.” Solidifying her point. Those two acted like a married couple, they weren’t together, but you could’ve sworn their dynamic was unmatched, “go get the girl, y/n.” They say in unison, walking away together, only proving you right.

“Hey, sorry that took a while, what did they want?” Jenna’s voice getting louder as she steps closer to you, now looking at you with the same dreamy eyes, except it was different, jumping to conclusions those eyes screamed platonic. What your dumbass didn’t realise was that the look she gave you was different, she never looked at anyone the way she looks at you, her eyes were love sick, she was lovesick, for you.

“Oh, it’s no problem, and uh, they were just talking about my character development, how they want my character to grow.” Lying through your teeth, you just hope she couldn’t see through you the way the other two did.

“You didn’t like it? It’s okay if you don’t, you can speak to them, they love and respect you, like you’re their love child, cus everyone agrees they act like a married couple.” She says, in the sweetest, softest tone, you could melt, bend at your knees. “You seem upset, baby.” Baby.

You shake your head and with such slyness you lean on the table, making sure you don’t topple over at the sound of her nickname for you, you weren’t lying when you told yourself you would bend at your knees for her.

“Huh? OH, no, no, I’m not upset at all.” Another lie, “it’s just been a long week and I can’t wait to get home; the new season of Black Mirror is out.” You smile, baring all your teeth, now that one wasn’t a complete lie, it has been a long week and there is a new season that you can’t wait to binge.

“Hurgh, I thought you said we’d watch it together!” Jenna acts betrayal as she grasps her shirt near her heart region.

“Okayyyyy, come over tonight.” Rolling her eyes at her, making sure your invitation was finite and not a question, so she would have to come over.

“Oh, uh, actually, I would love to.” There’s a change in her tone.

“But…?”

“But I have a date tonight, with Idrys, it’s what we were talking about before. Watch it without me, I’ll catch up.” Oh. You regret inviting her, because maybe you’d only have to hear about the date after it happened. Oh, who are you kidding, she would’ve told you the second she got back and the voice in your head would be pestering you to dig at her, asking what their conversation was about, you were going to find out about the date in a heartbeat.

“Right, well that’s better than spending it with me on my couch, so have fun, he’s cute, and no doubt you’re going to look breathtaking tonight.” You try your hardest to not show the stabbing feeling that buries your heart right now.

“I’m glad you think so, pick me up at seven.” She cheeses, with such mischief behind her eyes.

“JENNAAAA.”

“Thank you, baby.”

How could you say no.

~~

As Jen enters your car, you can’t help but stare in awe, she looks ethereal, she is ethereal. She was wearing a black mini skirt that hugged her hips, accompanied by a sheer white button up that caressed her curves, thought the material was sheer, it wasn’t completely see through, and her hair was up in a slick, mid bun with her middle part showing.

There was no one in the world, the universe that made you feel the way she did, she was like basking in the warm Australian sun, like the skyline of a city at night time reflecting on your skin, where light was, she was there, she isn’t the light, she’s your light.

“You know, l/n, if you keep staring, I’ll miss my date.” Jenna teases, only making you blush and giggle, but the dimness of your car shadowed your face, making it hard for Jenna to see the blush, but what she did see was the spark in your eyes which calmed the sea of nervousness she was swimming in. Maybe you should keep staring.

As you start driving, you start fidgeting, Jenna noticed but she didn’t want to point it out, scared it’ll only push you away and make you dismissive. The tension in the car was strong, it could cut a boulder clean, and you couldn’t take that so you small talk her acting as if you were her uber driver and you don’t have a relationship with her.

“So, uh, you excited?”

“A bit, more nervous actually.”

“He should be nervous, he’s the one going on a date with THE Jenna Ortega.”

“Hmph, you flatter me.” You try. “Actually, he’s the one who has been nervous all week, he’s been asking me out every single day without fail for the past seven days.”

“And you kept rejecting him?”

“Something like that,” you also hope that the dim lights didn’t reveal your sly smirk painted on your face.

“Why did you?”

“I just wanted to see if something else would come along.”

“That is?”

“A sign.”

“A sign?”

“A sign for me to officially say no, I told him to give me a week, and on the last day, I caved and said yes.” Confusion starts to set in, you couldn’t tell if she wanted to even go on this date, you know, with the whole sign thingy, maybe she was just looking for a reason to say no but there wasn’t one conjured up in time.”

“I take it there wasn’t any?”

“Zilch. Maybe no sign meant I should say yes.”

“Unfortunate,” you mumble, maybe if a sign did show, you wouldn’t be caught in this situation.

“Indeed.” You didn’t think she heard you, but she did, unfortunately though, you didn’t hear her. “What was that?” You ask.

“Oh, nothing, just thinking out loud.”

“Right, well, we’re here, just let me park and help you out.” You park swiftly and with ease, despite needing to parallel park, with that same swiftness you hop out and open the car door for Jenna, extending your arm out for her.

“Always a gentleman.” She smiles.

“Gentlewoman,” you jokingly correct her, she lets out a small huff of laughter whilst her smile stays in place, “what’re you waiting for, Jen?”

“A sign, baby.” There it was again, baby.

“Go have fun, Jen.” You grab her hand once more and caress each knuckle.

She held her blink longer than usual, smiling as she does so, letting out a wistful sigh, and before she turns away and leaves, she tippy toes up, placing a soft, warm kiss on your cheek. Except it was so much closer to the edge of your mouth, you want to say it was a kiss?

~~

Once you settle back into your couch, snuggle up in your fluffy blanket, you can’t wait to hear the iconic tudum ahead of every Black Mirror episode, getting lost in the new season, hoping to clear your mind of Jenna and her date, the date now an hour in.

And even though she gave you permission to watch the new season without you, there was a guilt building in you every time you considered pressing play, so you listen and decide to save season six for another time, another time where Jenna was with you, resting her head on your shoulder.

Instead, you opt to rewatch your favourite episode instead, ‘San Junipero,’ but before the first interaction of the episode could start, you hear your doorbell ring, you pause the episode and go check it out.

Looking through your ring camera app, you see Jenna? You open the door in confusion and map the brunette up and down, making sure you weren’t hallucinating, you see her smiling softly at you holding a pizza box in her hand.

“Hi.” She smiles, only making you even more confused.

“Hello?” You start off, “what’re you doing here, your date?”

She breathes in deeply, hearing the oxygen enter her body, she exhales just as deeply, hearing the carbon dioxide, that was once oxygen, leave her body. “Well, I was on a date, enjoying delicious food, with a very cute and funny boy in front of me,” your heart drops, “but.” Your heart raises, and so does one of your eyebrows.

“But?”

“He wasn’t the one I wanted to be with, he’s great and all but he doesn’t occupy my heart, he’s just a friend, I explained it to him, and he was very sweet about it, he understood, actually he was the one who dropped me off here.”

“Well, who does occupy your heart?” Your naïve and oblivious self asks. Only making Jenna’s facial expression form a horror as a result of you not being able to connect the dots.

“YOU. YOU DO, Y/N, I love you.” You freeze, “you’re the one I want to be with, I love more than you could ever imagine.” And before you could react, you feel her lips on yours, like it was coming home, except this time, it was here to stay, and they were speaking the truth, no lies, no acting, no cut, just the truth.

“But the sign?” You break away.

“The sign was you, you idiot, I wanted to see if a miracle would happen, and you would ask me out.”

“OHHHHH.” Realisation hits you like a truck, “I don’t even know what to say.”

“Just shut up and kiss me.”

“Yes ma’am.” You pull her waist in, essentially pulling her inside your house, greeting her lips once more as she places the pizza on your table, dancing in motion together as if the two of you were among the stars.

“And before you try anything funny,” she pulls away, making you whimper a bit, “there’s twelve slices of pizza, six each so we both get a last slice.”

You smile, making you’re the corner of your lips connect to your eyes, essentially closing your eyes as a reaction.

“Last slice.”

~~

a/n: j! try to write at a normal time and fix your sleep schedule challenge <3 (it’s 6am)

taglist: @talialeih​ (uber eats me a pizza please, love.)

[blakeswritingimagines]

You're Dealing With A Goddess

Summary: When no offer is made to the old dragon goddess, she takes matters into her own hands.

Warnings: Fear play, Dub-Con, Dom Rhaenyra, Sub Fem reader, Fingering, Aphrodisiac, Anal play, Eating you out if you squint.

Word Count: 3.3k

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

The village is a small farming community located in the Riverlands, perhaps near Harrenhal. The village is largely ignored by the rest of the Seven Kingdoms, however, they do have several run-ins with a dragon that likes to come by and wreak havoc and get its sacrifices from innocent locals. As you step out of your humble home in the small village nestled deep within the heart of the kingdom, you can feel the weight of the oppressive atmosphere hanging over it like a thick cloak. The villagers go about their daily routines with a sense of resignation and fear etched onto their faces. They know all too well the terror that comes with living under the shadow of the dragon that demands a human sacrifice once every year. You hear whispers among the villagers about how the dragon has grown increasingly impatient with the delay in fulfilling its annual demand for a life taken from their midst. It's clear that time is running out and the tension in the air is palpable. "What's going on?" You ask innocently.

The villagers looked at each other with worry on their faces. "The dragon's hunger will not be denied," they whispered. You realize now that the village hasn't offered up their sacrificial victim yet, and the dragon's hunger grows with each passing moment. The large figure of the dragon looms over the village, its massive form casting ominous shadows as it surveys the scene below. Its cold gaze takes in everything, missing nothing as it waits patiently for what it knows will come eventually. As the day wears on and the sun begins to set, the dragon lets out an impatient roar, signaling that its patience is reaching its limits. The sound sends a chill down the spine of everyone in the village, including you. They know all too well what happens when the dragon gets angry - homes are destroyed, livestock is consumed, and people are killed or enslaved. With each passing minute, the tension in the air grows thicker, making it harder to breathe or think clearly. Feeling the weight of the dragon's presence pressing down on you, you start to panic a bit. Your mind races with fear and anxiety as you try to come up with a plan to save yourself and your fellow villagers from certain doom. You look around at the other terrified villagers and realize that they are just as helpless as you are against such a powerful creature. The thought of being chosen as the sacrificial offering sends shivers down your spine, but you know that there's no point in hiding or trying to escape since the dragon can easily detect any attempt to flee. You decide that your only option left is to accept your fate and hope for the best.

The dragon takes a few more steps towards the center of the village, its claws scraping against the ground as it approaches. Its cold breath billows out in clouds that freeze whatever they touch. The villagers huddle together, looking for safety in numbers while also trying not to draw attention to themselves. As night falls and the dragon finally makes its way into the middle of the town square, it raises one massive foot and places it firmly on top of a nearby building, causing it to crumble into dust and debris. The sound of the collapse echoes through the streets, adding to the general feeling of dread and despair. The sound of the collapsing building causes the entire village to freeze in terror as they watch in horror, not daring to even breathe loud enough to be heard. When the dust settles, the villagers look around at each other in fear and silence. No one says anything, because they know that saying something wrong might attract the wrath of the monstrous beast. They sit in complete silence waiting for the inevitable.

The villagers gasped in shock and horror as the building collapsed, their faces filled with terror and disbelief. They realize that the moment of truth has arrived, and anyone could be chosen as the dragon's next meal. You feel your heart rate increase as you try to remain calm and focused despite the fear coursing through your veins. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, trying to find the inner strength needed to face your fate head-on. As the dragon moves through the streets, its gaze sweeping over the gathered crowd of villagers, they can almost feel its power emanating from its body. It takes its time, taking its time to inspect each person carefully before making a decision. The longer it takes, the more nervousness and anxiety grip the villagers. Children start to cry, adults start to pray, and some people start to consider desperate measures in hopes of avoiding the monster's wrath. Finally, after what seems like an eternity, the dragon stops in front of you. You find the courage to look into its piercing eyes without flinching.

Your heart skips a beat as the dragon speaks directly to you. You swallow hard and force yourself to look the monstrous creature in the eye, trying not to show any signs of weakness or fear. Despite your bravado, you can't help but feel a bit terrified as you realize that your time has come. "Me?" You ask hesitantly, not quite believing that you've been chosen as the offering. The thought of being eaten alive or whatever was planned by such a massive creature fills you with a mix of horror and dread, but you know that there's no use resisting or fighting back. You must submit to your fate with grace and dignity, especially since the dragon seems to find you acceptable as a sacrifice. The dragon moves with surprising speed and agility, considering its massive size. In just a few strides, it carries you away from the village and deeper into the surrounding forest. As they move further into the darkness, you can't help but feel a mix of fear and curiosity about where exactly the dragon plans to take you. "Stay quiet," the dragon growls warningly, its voice like an earthquake rumbling in your ears. It's clear that any disobedience or resistance would be met with immediate punishment. After what seems like hours of walking through the dense forest, the dragon stops in front of a large cave entrance. With a deft motion, it releases one of its arms from around your neck and uses it to push you inside the dark opening.

As the dragon enters the cave, you can hear the sound of water dripping and see flickering torchlight dancing on the walls. The smell of damp earth and decaying vegetation fills your nose, making you feel a bit queasy. Despite your fear, you remain mostly composed as you follow the dragon deeper into the cave. When it stops in front of a large rock formation that serves as a natural altar, you realize that this is where you'll be offered up as a sacrifice. The dragon sets you down gently on the altar, positioning your legs apart and restraining your hands above your head with one of its arms. Its other hand reaches out and grazes your cheek softly before moving to wrap around your throat, preventing any chance of escape or protest. The dragon moves around the altar, preparing for the ritualistic part of the offering. Its free hand retrieves a small knife from somewhere within the cave, and then it returns to stand between your spread legs. The tip of the blade hovers dangerously close to your throat, ready to make the first incision should you try anything foolish. "Now," the dragon commands, "stay still and let this happen." It leans down and nuzzles against your neck, inhaling deeply before starting the process of cutting into your exposed flesh.

The dragon's massive form looms over you, its presence dominating the entirety of the cave. Its hot breath washes over your exposed skin, making you feel terrified. As the dragon's body starts to shift and change, its scales rearrange themselves into a more human-like form. In moments, the dragon is gone, replaced by a tall and slender woman with long, silver hair that cascades down her back. She wears a flowing black dress adorned with intricate gold patterns, accentuating her curves and highlighting her ample bosom and narrow waist. As the dragon transforms into Rhaenyra Targaryen, you find yourself both amazed and terrified. The transformation is so sudden and complete that it takes a few moments for you to process what has happened. You see the beautiful woman standing before you, her body almost ethereal in its beauty and elegance, and realize that you are about to become a living sacrifice to this mythical figure. The thought of being consumed by such a powerful and alluring creature fills you with fear, and you struggle to maintain control over your emotions.

Rhaenyra Targaryen moves closer to you, taking in every detail of your exposed body with an intense curiosity. Her silver eyes lock onto your frightened ones, studying them carefully as if you were a work of art. As she gets within reach, Rhaenyra's hand extends and gently traces one finger along the curve of your chest, causing your heart rate to accelerate even further. "Do not be afraid," she whispers softly, "for I am not here to harm you… much." Without warning, Rhaenyra's other hand reaches down and cups one of your breasts, squeezing it gently but firmly. Despite your fear and anxiety, you feel a surge of arousal as Rhaenyra's hand touches your breast. The sensation is foreign and overwhelming, but not entirely unpleasant. You find yourself unable to look away from those captivating eyes as they continue to study you with an air of curiosity and desire. You stutter, "w-what do y-you plan to do with me? Eat me or use me as your plaything?" You don't know why, but there's something about Rhaenyra's alluring presence that makes you want to please her, even in the face of certain death.

Rhaenyra's touch is both tantalizing and intimidating, leaving you feeling both aroused and terrified. The combination of pleasure and pain is exhilarating, and despite your fear, you can't help but crave more of the woman's attention. As you hear Rhaenyra's assurance that you're being honored to be devoured by such a magnificent creature, a small part of you starts to believe it too. Rhaenyra's free hand moves lower, brushing against the wetness between your legs before finally settling on one of your inner thighs. She spreads your legs wider apart, exposing you completely to her gaze. You couldn't help but let out a soft moan, unable to resist the sensation of cool fingers teasing your sensitive folds. The combination of arousal and fear creates an intoxicating cocktail of emotions that leaves you feeling both vulnerable and empowered. You wonder if this is how people feel when they're about to be consumed by something so powerful and overwhelming. Rhaenyra's other hand continues to massage and squeeze your breast gently while her fingers slowly penetrate your dripping pussy. The contrast of pleasure and impending doom makes your heart race faster and your breathing become more labored. "I… I'm ready.."

Rhaenyra's hand continues to explore your wetness, her fingers expertly probing and teasing at the entrance to your pussy. She watches with a mixture of fascination and desire as you react to her touch, her own arousal growing stronger with each passing moment. As she feels you start to come apart under her ministrations, Rhaenyra decides it's time to make things official. "Open your legs wider," she commands softly, "and let me see everything." She removes her hand from your breast and moves it to grip one of your hips firmly, pushing you further onto the altar table and exposing you completely to Rhaenyra's gaze. You comply without hesitation, spreading your legs wide open and baring everything to Rhaenyra's unblinking inspection. You can feel the heat radiating off of Rhaenyra's body as she stands above you, looking like an ancient goddess come to life. Your breath catches in your throat as Rhaenyra's eyes fixate on your dripping pussy and glistening clit. The combination of fear and anticipation makes your pussy twitch and leak even more, adding to the visceral display of your readiness. Rhaenyra's free hand reaches down and wraps around one of your thighs, pulling you closer to her face so she can breathe in the scent of your arousal.

Rhaenyra's hand focuses solely on exploring your pussy, running her fingers deep inside of you and gripping onto the outer lips with a gentle force that suggests she won't be gentle for very long. As you come apart beneath her touch, Rhaenyra watches with rapt attention, her expression a mix of excitement and hunger. She pulls her hand away from your soaked crotch and stands up, stepping back slightly to admire the sight of you lying helplessly on the altar table. "Such a delicious offering," she murmurs, "I can hardly wait to taste you." As Rhaenyra steps back to admire her naked and vulnerable offering, you lie there panting heavily, your body still quaking from the aftershocks of your orgasm. You feel like a piece of meat being displayed in a marketplace, and the thought excites and terrifies you at the same time. You watched as Rhaenyra approached a bowl of liquid on the side of the altar table and dipped her fingers into it, coating them with a mysterious substance. "What are you doing?" You ask breathlessly, not able to take your eyes off the woman's mesmerizing movements.

Rhaenyra finishes dipping her fingers into the bowl and walks back over to where you lie on the altar table, your body still trembling from your recent climax. She brings her coated fingers close to your face and holds them just out of reach, allowing you to catch a whiff of the sweet scent emanating from them. The scent is intoxicating, a heady mix of honey and vanilla that seems to cloud your mind and heighten your arousal even further. As Rhaenyra moves closer, she leans down and places one of her coated fingers against your lips, urging you to take a taste of the delectable substance. A predatory grin on her face. Her body looms over your prone form like a predator stalking its prey. With a slow, deliberate motion, she brings one of her slick-covered fingers to just outside of your entrance and then pushes it inside, stretching your walls gently before pulling it out again. "I'm preparing myself," she explains simply, "to consume you."

As Rhaenyra's slick-coated finger enters your tight entrance, you gasp and arch your back, feeling both pleasurable pressure and a sense of dread building within you. You watched in awe as the woman stretched your walls apart, getting ready to devour you completely. The idea of being consumed by such a powerful and alluring creature sends shivers down your spine, making your body tense with anticipation and excitement. "Are you really going to eat me?" You breathlessly ask, unable to contain your curiosity or your growing arousal. And with that, she pushes another finger inside of your pussy, filling you completely with her presence. Rhaenyra nods, her eyes locked onto yours as she continues to insert more fingers into your waiting pussy. She can feel the tightness surrounding her digits giving way slowly but surely, allowing her to penetrate deeper into your warm depths with each passing moment. "Yes, my dear," she replies softly, "I plan on consuming every last bit of you." She adds another finger, pushing even farther into your wet sheath until her thumb is resting against the entrance to your rear entrance. "And once I have tasted you, there will be nothing left for anyone else." Her words are spoken with a mixture of confidence and determination, conveying the unwavering certainty of her intentions.

As Rhaenyra's fingers fill you completely, pushing past the point of no return, you let out a soft moan and close your eyes, surrendering yourself completely to the experience. You feel a surge of heat and wetness flow through your core as you realize that you're being penetrated fully by the alluring woman standing above you. The sensation is both foreign and exhilarating, sending shivers down your spine and causing your heart rate to accelerate even further. "You… You're really going to eat me…" As Rhaenyra's thumb presses against the entrance to your rear entrance, you let out a gasp and open your eyes wide in surprise, unsure of what to expect next. Rhaenyra can feel the tightness and warmth enveloping her thumb. With a slow, deliberate movement, she pushes it inside, feeling the resistance give way as her digit slips inside. "Indeed I am," she confirms, "and soon I will have consumed every last inch of you." Her voice is low and seductive, almost hypnotic in its intensity. She adds another finger alongside her thumb, working to stretch out your tight muscles and prepare you for whatever may come next. "Now, close your eyes and relax," she instructs gently, "and think only of how good it feels to be eaten alive."

Rhaenyra continues to work her fingers and thumb inside your tight rear entrance, gradually increasing the pressure and depth of her penetration. She can feel the tension building in your body as she takes possession of both your front and back entrances, marking her territory and claiming her prize. "Such a delicious treat," she murmurs softly, "to consume someone so completely." Her voice is low and sultry, like a siren's call drawing you ever closer to the edge of climax. As Rhaenyra's fingers and thumb continue to penetrate you deeply, you let out a long, drawn-out moan and tossed your head back, exposing your throat to the altar table above you. Your body is now fully under the spell of the alluring woman's dominance, and you find yourself completely at her mercy. "Oh, Goddess…" You breathe, "I'm yours to do with as you please…" Your words are barely audible, lost in the maelstrom of pleasure washing over you, as you surrender completely to the sensations enveloping you.

Rhaenyra watches closely as you lie before her, eyes closed in anticipation and submission. She can sense your complete surrender and eagerness to be consumed, and it only serves to heighten her own arousal. "Very well," she says with a satisfied smile. With a single motion, Rhaenyra pulls her fingers and thumb out of your puckered back entrance, leaving you completely open and vulnerable to the ultimate act of consumption about to take place. She leans forward slightly, savoring the sight of your spread legs and glistening pussy before her, and then brings her mouth close to the gaping hole left behind by her digits. "time to feast."

Rhaenyra hears the whispered words from you and smiles wickedly, her eyes glinting with triumphant satisfaction. She knows she has claimed this beautiful sacrifice completely, and there is nothing that can stop her now from consuming every last inch of the trembling figure lying beneath her. "Such a devoted follower," she comments, "it's truly a pleasure to have captured someone so willing to be devoured." Her voice is a mix of amusement and lust, reflecting her delight in having complete control over your fate.

"Now." She says firmly, "Prepare for the ultimate act of submission – allowing me to take everything you have to offer." As Rhaenyra's voice declares that the time has come for you to offer up everything you have, you hesitate for a brief moment, then obediently lie still, waiting patiently for the alluring woman's next move. "Please… Consume me…" You whisper softly, not able to resist the overwhelming desire washing over you. The thought of being completely owned and possessed by Rhaenyra fills you with a sense of euphoric abandon, and you find yourself yearning for it with every fiber of your being. "Take everything I have to give…" You add, barely audibly, as you lay vulnerable and exposed upon the altar table, awaiting Rhaenyra's final command.

[lookwhatyoumademedohaha]

The One Where Kaz Brekker Considers His Life Choices

Summary: Kaz Brekker is a deadly Barrel Boss who has the most dangerous task at hand... To deal with the chaotic shenanigans that you pull with the Crows.

Pairing: Kaz Brekker X Reader, Six of Crows X Platonic! Reader.

Warnings: Lots of humour, fluff, chaotic energy of our Crows.

A/N: So I'm down with a terrible cold and fever and in my delirium, I came up with this story inspired by John Oliver and B99. I hope you like it. Let me know your thoughts in the comments. Happy reading!

"Dammit." muttered Kaz under his breath as he searched for your face through the Crow Club because he was a hundred percent certain that you were responsible for his present headache as he controlled himself "No, I love Y/N, she's my friend, she's my friend who is good at her job..."

Kaz was fairly certain he looked like a lunatic but finally he spotted you at the Crows private table laughing with your friends.

He marched up to you with his stony expression as he overheard Jesper announcing his plans "I think I might customize my revolvers."

Wylan immediately interjected "What? How are you going to do that?"

"I was thinking really bright colours like purple,pink and orange to match my outfits and maybe engrave my name." said Jesper thoughtfully while all of them rolled their eyes and laughed "I mean, it's going to be so much fun!"

"Oh yes! So fun! Absolutely fun!" you mocked Jesper in a high pitched tone as you smirked at him "Or when you commit murderer, a grave oversight on your part. Good news Chief, we found Fahey's revolvers at the murder scene."

Jesper stuck out his tongue at you childishly while you replied sarcastically "We do not know what motivated him to go on a killing spree but he had a lot of fun with it."

Kaz stood behind you "Y/L/N"

"Ah Kaz, you're looking very happy today." said Nina brightly as she greeted him infuriatingly "Let us guess what happened based on your facial expression. You got offered a job with a lot of Kruge and high stakes?"

Inej joined in the fun "Pekka Rollins finally died?"

Maththias' smirked "He found a life of charity and prayer."

Everyone nodded in agreement and Wylan grinned "He's about to reveal that he's actually Nikolai Lantsov!"

"Saints! Wylan, he's about to reveal that he's secretly married to me and has secretly raised my baby!" cried Jesper dramatically as Kaz thought of resignation from this life.

"All of these options is probable. But I know the Captain. He's having a meltdown." you announced dramatically exasperating Kaz who hadn't got one word in since this conversation started.

Matthias looked at you pointedly and then at Kaz "What are you talking about? The demjin looks the same as he always does."

"To you perhaps. But I have mastered the art of reading his emotions. His lips are tightly sealed, he's gripping onto his cane as if he's trying to control himself and he's blinking at his three second intervals as opposed to his nine." you observed Kaz closely with a knowing smile surprising Kaz who was tongue tied and speechless that you could easily read him "Therefore, he's having a meltdown!"

Wylan intervened as he shook his head at you fondly "That seems excessive."

You grinned "No, I'm impressive."

Nina knew that you were telling the truth based on Kaz' heartbeat she heard as she queried sweetly "So Waffles, is everything okay?"

Kaz glared at Nina and then at you "No. I'm having a meltdown."

Wylan and Matthias gasped at you as if you were a Saint "Wow."

Kaz decided to speak before anyone could interfere "Who the hell is responsible for the mess?"

"You have to be more specific about which mess given out daily life experience." retorted Nina sassily.

Kaz eyebrows furrowed deeply "Alright. The slogan outside the Crow Club and the Slat? Who did it?"

There was silence as everyone pointed toward you who looked unremorseful as you smirked at Kaz who was fuming in rage as he turned his dangerous gaze upon you "As I suspected. Now you better have a goddamn good reason as to why you would do such a silly, stupid, idiotic act?"

You looked completely calm for a person who was about to feel Kaz Brekker's wrath "Clear communication and marketing to our customers."

Kaz couldn't quite comprehend what you said as he stuttered "Excuse me?"

"Well Kaz, to tell you the truth, people in Ketterdam weren't really clear on where we were coming from... you know our main objective as to why we steal,maim and kill so much." you explained nonchalantly and calmly that made Kaz feel as if he was the idiot in this conversation. "So we put up a slogan to educate everyone in Ketterdam, our objective in pursuing destruction and crime."

"It's rather a genius slogan, Y/N." praised Inej with a kind smile "The ones we came up with were sloppy and funny but Y/N understood the assignment."

Kaz realized that you had come up with the goddamn slogan yourself as he literally let out all his exasperation out "Yes but did the slogan of the Dregs have to be BECAUSE DEATH IS THE UNDENIABLE FUEL OF LIFE!'"

"I think it's very classy, professional and straightforward conveying the necessary message." commented Matthias with honest admiration for your work and grinned at how red the demjin was "People won't like it but at least they'll understand and respect where you come from."

All of them exchanged mischievous glances as they saw Kaz close to spontaneously combusting and had to hand it to you. This was the best prank they played on Kaz and honestly at this point, you should be appointed as the Prank master General of the Dregs.

"I can't believe you would do something so stupid!" burst out Kaz in despair and anger.

You remained completely unfazed while Nina, Matthias, Wylan, Jesper and Inej snickered in unison "Can't you?"

"Shut it! I know you lot encouraged her to do this." snapped Kaz in frustration as he pointed at the rest of his friends who grinned

Kaz looked at you once again as he took a deep breath "And why did you place this slogan in bright and glittering colours as bright as Jesper's irritating fashion sense?"

"Because people are more attracted to bright colours and like glitter. Like if I saw that message in black, I'd be afraid but since it's in pretty bold sparkling colours, everyone kind of digs it." you said smartly while the rest of the Crowd clapped proudly for you "They are not like afraid. They are more like... Oh my god Kaz Brekker is about to murder me. Go right ahead Kazzle Dazzle, just whack me -"

"Alright thank you, that's enough." interrupted Kaz hastily and briskly because he did not want to hear the end of the sentence.

Amidst the Crows loud laughter, Jesper hooted "They're like... I'd die for Kaz Brekker and honestly he'll let me. Brutal!"

"The way I consider murder illegal but if Kaz Brekker is doing it, make me the victim." replied Wylan with a teasing smirk.

"CHOKE ME TO DEATH DADDY BREKKER, HALLELUJAH!" you yelled loudly as you raised your glass while Kaz was completely red in the face, embarrassed by his friends drunk shenanigans and chaotic energies.

"Daddy... It's a kink isn't it? It's like a paternal thing?" explained Nina with a wink to Maththias' who had inquired about it.

"Alright Freud." retorted Kaz rolling his eyes at Nina who laughed as he hoped to shut down this conversation quickly "I don't understand why you chose that particular slogan. It sounds like an excerpt from a letter of a serial killer!"

You looked at Kaz with a deadpanned expression "How many killings does it take for a person to be a serial killer?"

Kaz was slightly taken aback but answered nevertheless "Er... Five?"

"Great. We're all serial killers." sighed Jesper dramatically as he looked pointedly at Kaz who obviously had the highest body count.

"Not me." stated Wylan with an innocent smile.

"Bitch please!" chorused everyone together in disbelief as they glared at Wylan who was hiding a grin and you added "You have the second highest body count and you're relatively new."

Jesper grinned as he placed a kiss on Wylan "Well that's my man! He's spectacular at everything he does!"

Kaz gave up. There was no point talking to you.

"Fine. Those slogans are to be taken down tonight -" began Kaz when Rotty came toward them

"Sorry to interrupt boss but there are more than eighteen people and some other gang members queued outside waiting to be initiated as part of the Dregs."

You smirked into your drink as you heard Kaz retort "What is the meaning of this?"

"Uh... The new slogan is real popular boss. People want to be part of the Dregs because we showed them out vision and they like it." said Rotty vibrating in excitement "Also, the customers are pouring in more boss! I think it's the glitter they like -"

"Thank you Rotty. I'll attend to it. Dismissed." said Kaz as he felt your infuriating and insufferable smirk burn a hole through his skull.

"Oh Captain... I believe it's time to say those very special words." you crooned sweetly as you watched Kaz' lips twitch once.

"Y/L/N... you're a genius." stated Kaz in a deadpanned expression and watched in amusement as you nearly choked on your drink while the rest of the Crows were checking their drinks for toxin trips.

You squealed in delight "OH MY GOD! YOU ACTUALLY SAID IT! IT'S REAL!"

"I heard you practicing it to yourself in your room last night." said Kaz calmly and deadpanned as he smirked at how your enthusiasm slightly faded but you were still grinning.

You nodded "That makes more sense. So are you like now going to give me a raise, or a -"

"You're an idiot, Y/N." said Kaz with a subtle exasperated and amused smile and walked away.

"THANK YOU? YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO SAY THANK YOU CROWFATHER!" you yelled out loud in exasperation and amusement as everyone laughed.

Inej smiled "Honestly, I didn't expect the prank to turn into something profitable."

Jesper frowned slightly "Yeah it kind ruins it all, doesn't it?"

"Never fear my friends. Kaz is a prankster's delight." you replied with a delightful smile, mischief glinting in your eyes.

Before anyone could ask what you meant, Kaz Brekker's mad voice rumbled across the Crow Club "Y/N Y/L/N! WHAT ARE ALL THESE CONGRATULATORY LETTERS I'VE RECEIVED FROM DIGNITARIES ALL OVER THE WORLD ABOUT THE FACT THAT I AM TO BE MARRIED TO THAT STRUTTING PEACOCK ZOYA NAZALENZKY AT THE CHURCH OF BARTER IN KETTERDAM IN TWO DAYS?"

"What?" exclaimed Jesper in amazement

Nina, Wylan, Inej and you exchanged amused stares "Who's going to tell him Zoya is in on this and is actually coming here tonight?"

"You know what, never change, Y/N." said Matthias looking at you affectionately and then looked alarmed because he saw the demjin marching toward you "But you better run or you'll be in trouble with the demjin!"

"Trouble?" you laughed as you winked at your friends "You're only in trouble if you are caught!"

Kaz caught you before you could flee "Gotcha!"

"I'm in trouble." you mumbled and then grinned widely at Kaz Brekker who looked like a bull who had just been kicked as you bit him making him let go of you and you took off running "Congratulations on your nuptials, Captain! You're going to be a lovely bride!"

[nataliawrites]

I keep thinking about Pierre Gasly and a shy reader who likes to read and paint. While he's the complete opposite of a party boy

Opposites Attract // Pierre Gasly

Four times your friends thought your relationship was doomed to fail and one time they finally understood otherwise.

One

A group of sweaty men made their way out of the grinding crowd on the dance floor and, with a lack of grace lending itself to plenty of drinks and the leftover adrenaline of a Grand Prix, shakily made their way up the stairs to the VIP area.

Among them, sprawled lazily in the extended booth they now occupied, a certain Monégasque turns to his best friend like a gossiping school girl, “that blonde was totally into you.”

The French best friend in question raises an eyebrow, “well I totally wasn’t into her.”

“Who are you and what did you do with Pierre?”

“I’m still me, Charles.”

“Could’ve fooled me. Up until a few months ago you would’ve never turned down someone as ehm well endowed as her.”

Pierre rolls his eyes, “up until a few months ago I wasn’t in a loving relationship.”

“A loving relationship in which your girlfriend stays in your hotel room while you party all night long?”

“What does it matter? Y/N gets anxious and this isn’t really her scene. She knows I would never do anything to hurt her or our relationship and she trusts me.”

“She should be here supporting you.”

“She does support me. Tirelessly. And I do the same in return by making sure she’s not forced into situations that make her uncomfortable.”

When they return to their hotel in the early hours of the morning, fairing none too well after a night of endless partying, Charles can’t help but peak into the suite that Pierre and you were sharing after Pierre was too drunk to properly shut the door.

You were still up despite the ridiculously late hour and reading a lengthy book using the warm light of a lamp on your nightstand.

Charles watches through the crack as you carefully mark your place in the novel and get out of bed to greet your inebriated boyfriend.

“Hi, Pear.”

Pierre leans in to give you a messy kiss, missing your lips almost entirely, “hello, mon coeur. I missed you.”

“I missed you too, love. There’s some painkillers and water by your toothbrush. And I put your boxers by the clean towels for after you shower quickly.”

“I need help.”

“Help with what?”

“Help me shower,” Pierre whines softly, “pleeeeeaaaasssseee.”

“Okay, you big baby. Let’s get you washed.”

Charles hurriedly shut the door when Pierre went to drop his pants.

Two

You paced up and down the gallery, hands linked in front of you to stop their shaking … mostly. It was your first public art exhibition and the tremendous milestone meant stepping far outside your comfort zone and into a social setting to show off your hard work.

Your eyes ran over the paintings carefully hanging on the walls for the hundredth time. They were perfect. The result of pouring your entire soul into the images that flowed from your hands and onto the canvas. Everything would be perfect. Almost everything, that is.

“How sucky that your boyfriend couldn’t be here for you.”

You turn around to face a classmate and friend from art school, “it’s not his fault. He has a job to do.”

Your boyfriend of nearly a year was going to have to miss the exhibition not matter how much you knew he wished he could be here to support you. But Formula 1 waits for no one and he was stuck on the other side of the world among the chaos that came with a race weekend.

“I’m just saying,” she throws her hands up defensively, “what about his job as your boyfriend?”

“Pierre does that daily, thank you for your concern. His attention to me whenever he isn’t actively working more than makes up for the time he dedicates to racing.”

You move to turn back around but stop and about-face, “and his dedication and passion to that part of his life are part of the reason I love him.” Then you finally spin on your heel and go back to surveying your work for any imperfections.

You were broken out of your thoughts as the curator lightly tapped your shoulder, having been ignored when she quietly called your name while you were lost in your own head.

“Miss Y/N, there’s a delivery for you. Shall I tell them to bring it in?”

A delivery? You were fairly certain you didn’t order anything though with how anxious you were as the exhibition approached, maybe you did and just forgot about it.

“Of course! So sorry. They can put it down wherever there’s space.”

You watch in shock as courier after courier after courier after courier filed their way into the gallery and places overflowing vases of every flower under the sun on the floor before going back outside and returning with even more bouquets.

When you can barely see the tile floors and the gallery looks more like a botanical garden than a low-key space to showcase art, one of the couriers approaches you and hands you a card.

I wish I could be there celebrating your achievements with you. I am so incredibly proud of you and all that you’ve managed to do. I will be carrying a little bit of you with me when I race tonight.

Love you always,

PG

You can’t stop the tears that threaten to overflow when you spot the small photo of a print of your favorite painting tucked carefully into his helmet that was taped to the card.

Your classmate makes her way into the atrium again, “Five minutes till showtime! Oh my god? Who robbed a florist.”

“No robbing,” you laugh, “just Pierre being Pierre.��

Three

Pierre excitedly opens the door to welcome his friends from around the grid into his Milan apartment for their annual visit after the Italian Grand Prix.

“Hey, guys! Come in. Y/N just went to the market to quickly get some fresh fruit.”

The group of drivers files into the foyer and stop just short of smacking into each other as they stop and take in the apartment around them.

When Pierre bought the apartment a few years ago, he immediately hired a top interior designer to take care of all the decorating. Since then, the place he called home was sleek and modern and even whiter than his AlphaTauri race suit. Nothing like the apartment his friends were currently staring at with open mouths.

This apartment was a controlled chaos of colors that should not have gone together but somehow did. The walls were lined with paintings and photographs and little hanging plants that the interior designer would have fainted at. The ceiling of the entry way had a rather impressive recreation of the Sistine Chapel ceiling … with cats instead of humans.

“This is … wow.”

“I know! Isn’t it amazing? Y/N did it all herself after she finally moved in,” Pierre gushed.

“It’s definitely unique.”

“It just feels so much more like home, you know? It took a while for her to finally believe me when I told her I wanted her to redecorate but now we both love spending time here whenever we can.”

The boys exchange wide-eyed glances as Pierre rambles on and on about all of the changes that you made. What happened to the luxurious party boy who barely remembered the names of the women that graced his bed? Since when did Pierre Gasly spend five minutes describing how you painstakingly crocheted a throw blanket to perfectly match your new couch? The mark you made on him was becoming just as clear as the mark you made on his your home.

Four

It was cruel, really. With Pierre’s home Grand Prix being left off the schedule, you had promised to join him in Austin instead. Art school was relatively flexible and you didn’t anticipate any issues taking a week off to fly to Texas.

Until a teacher suddenly announced a project that had to be completed in class during the week you were meant to be at the United States Grand Prix.

You tried to hide a sniffle as you explain that you won’t be able to support him in person to Pierre over the phone during your lunch break. You stare at your salad, pushing the greens around as any appetite escaped you.

“It’s not worth your tears, mon coeur,” Pierre’s soothing accent cracks through your speaker. “Do not even worry about it. I promise that I will take care of everything.”

You see your classmate drop into the seat next to you and wave as you finish your conversation with Pierre.

“Hi! What’s-”

“Were you seriously planning to miss a week of school to go on vacation with your boyfriend?”

“It’s not exactly a vacation.”

Your friend rolls his eyes, “Semantics. You were going to fly halfway across the world and miss a week’s worth of classes for him. He’s been a bad influence on you. You would have never dreamed about skipping even a day of class before you got together with him.”

“Being in a relationship has made me reevaluate my priorities,” you explain. “Don’t get me wrong — I love art and school is important but nothing beats being there for the people you love.”

“Whatever,” he sighs, “no use talking about it now. There’s no way you’re getting out of doing the project to go on your trip. Might as well cancel your tickets now.”

“Pierre said he’ll take care of the class so I’m not giving up hope yet.”

“Right … the second you get excused from the project is the second that pigs fly.”

You didn’t know which of you was more shocked when your boyfriend walked into the room like he owned it halfway through class the next day. He beelined towards your teacher with a purpose and you tore your attention away from the unfinished painting in front of you to watch as they talked. You can’t make out what they’re saying but see Pierre gesturing towards you and then slipping an envelope into your teacher’s hands when he gets a nod. They shake hands and Pierre makes his way to you.

He pecks your lips as your classmates’ eyes all turn to you, “Done. You’ll have an extra week to finish the project under supervision when you get back from America.”

“No way! How?”

“All it took was two paddock passes to Imola next season.”

“You’re actually the best, Pear. I love you so much.”

“Not more than I love you.” He turned to leave, “I’ll pick you up for dinner later?”

“Can’t wait, love.”

As the class dispersed an hour later, you couldn’t help bumping into your friend, “guess pigs learned to fly, huh?”

+ One

It wasn’t until the following season that his friends finally realized that you and Pierre were meant to be. You flew out to Belgium with him, knowing that Spa was especially hard for him emotionally and wanting to be there for your boyfriend. The morning of race day, you joined Pierre and the rest of the grid as they went to pay respects to Anthoine Hubert. You watched as various drivers left flowers and cards and stepped forward after they were done.

“I hope you don’t mind. I know that I never met Anthoine but I feel like I know him through all the stories Pierre tells and wanted to leave something to honor him too,” you pull a canvas out of your tote and kneel down to place it against the fence.

There’s silence as the men around you take in the portrait of a smiling Anthoine that you left among the flowers and wreaths.

Pierre pulls you in for a hug and you hold him tight as you feel your shoulder grow wet from his tears, “thank you, mon coeur. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

Pierre’s friends take in the sight of the two of you lost in your embrace. Maybe you’re not who they imagined Pierre would end up with but turns out that you’re exactly what he needs.