#and i had a lot of fun writing him having such a heavy sense of confidence with how to handle hawk

[remyfire]

You rotten scoundrel!!! I just read your fanfic “Like a Silent Song” and I LOVED IT SO MUCH!!! YOU SCOUNDREL!!! You write Radar so good, how DARE you!!!

I am attacked by insults and praise at every angle and do not know which to believe!!!! /j

I'm so glad you enjoyed it! ;v; I'm still not entirely confident in his voice, so hearing you say you thought it worked well means a lot to me. Thank you so much!!

[its3nvy]

"Wear the hat, ride the cowboy" Billy the Kid

Summary: After drawing the wrong kind of attention at the saloon, Billy comes to your rescue. Having to pretend to be his for the night, which leads to a ‘wear the hat, ride the cowboy’ situation ;) 

Tags/warnings: mdni (18+), porn with no plot, angst, size kink, riding cock, overstimulation, fingering, breeding kink, creampie, unprotected sex, rough sex, dirty talk, slight knife kink

Note : This is my first time ever writing smut and I haven't edited it a lot so this should be fun. (Tell me if it's good or not pls)

tags: f!reader, smut

word count: 3.7k

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Curiosity led you to the local saloon one evening, where Billy often engaged in poker games. The air inside was thick with the smoky residue of cigars, and the occasional clinking of glasses underscored the distant melody of a forlorn piano. As you pushed through the creaking doors, your presence hung in the air, drawing the gaze of rough patrons whose eyes bore into you with a kind of familiarity you had never known. Unaccustomed to the bold gazes and suggestive comments that swirled around you like a threatening storm, you sought refuge at the bar. A man behind it was taking someone’s order.

You looked around, your eyes finally found Billy's familiar frame, surrounded by a haze of cigarette smoke, engaged in a high-stakes poker game.

“Hello, darlin’,” a drunken man stumbled toward you.

“Hello, sir,” you gave him a small smile, trying to avoid his intense stare.

He leaned against the bar to keep his balance. “Come on, darling, don’t be such a prude. Talk to me.” His hand reached up, attempting to caress your face.

From afar, you saw Billy, his eyes—usually mischievous and full of life—met yours with a fleeting recognition. Without uttering a word, he rose from his chair, his cowboy boots echoing a heavy cadence on the worn wooden floor.

The drunken man's intrusive advances persisted, his slurred words creating an uncomfortable tension. "Don’t play hard to get, honey. I can show you a good time," he insisted, his hand becoming more insistent. Ignoring the drunkard, you turned back to the bar, hoping for intervention. The man persisted, his persistence turning aggressive. As his hand encroached upon your personal space, a shadow fell over you. 

Billy's presence loomed, his gaze colder than the steel of his revolver. Without a word, he grabbed the man's hand, his grip firm and unyielding. “Leave her alone," Billy's voice cut through the clamor of the saloon, his words echoing with a subtle menace.

The tension escalated, a palpable undercurrent surging through the room. The patrons, sensing the imminent storm, shifted uneasily. Billy's eyes held yours, a silent reassurance amid the brewing chaos. The drunk man, now confronted by the notorious gunslinger, stumbled backward, a mixture of recognition and fear contorting his expression. With a final warning glare from Billy, he slinked away into the crowd.

Billy turned towards you, his eyes softening as if to assure you that the storm had passed. 

"What in the hell are ya doin’ here?", he murmured, his tone both gruff and concerned as he reached you, seizing your hand and guiding you to the quiet side of the room. "I needed to go out, Billy," you replied, your voice carrying a note of defiance and desperation.

He hissed, a trace of irritation etching lines across his rugged features. "You can’t. You gotta go home. These people here are dangerous," he warned.

"And you don’t think me leaving alone would be dangerous?" you shot back, your gaze a defiant challenge to the protective facade he wore like impenetrable armor.

"Shit," he conceded, his irritation mingling with a begrudging acceptance of your undeniable truth. "Alright, I’m finishing up my round, and then we can go," Billy relented, his tone an admission of defeat. "But you play along with me, ok? If they don’t think you're claimed, they'll see you as fair game," he said, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that cut through the smoky haze, demanding an unspoken oath.

“Ok,” you huffed out.

He pulled you towards his table with a rough yet oddly comforting grip, a silent acknowledgment that, for a fleeting moment, you were to be sheltered from the men surrounding you as long as you stayed with him. "Wait," he murmured, his hand lingering on yours. With a swift motion, he removed his hat, worn and weathered from a life on the precipice.

You extended your hand to stop him. "Billy, you can’t," you insisted, your voice barely more than a whisper, laden with the implications of his gesture. “You know what this means.”

"That’s the point," he declared, his crooked grin returning like a bittersweet promise of protection. As he placed his hat on your head, it became a proclamation, an unspoken claim made before the watchful eyes of everyone present, and a promise of a heated night that lingered in the air like an unspoken secret.

"Now, c’mere," he commanded, pulling you towards him as he settled into his chair, drawing you onto his lap. You bit on your lips, a mixture of anticipation and fear, the heat rising to your cheeks as the proximity between you tightened like a coiled spring. This was the first time Billy had been so close, and the magnetic pull of his presence ignited an unfamiliar fire within you.

He looked up at you as you bit your lips, his gaze a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken tension that hung thick in the air.

As he resumed his poker game, you felt his breath against your neck. "Pass me the whiskey, doll," he asked.

You leaned against the table, inadvertently pulling your hips tighter into his pelvis, sensing his hardness between you. His hands reached out against your hips, gripping you and keeping you still. "Careful," he warned against the shell of your ear, his breath raising goosebumps along your neck, a sensation that heightened the electrifying energy between you.

As you handed him the glass, he took a swig, and then, with a deliberate slowness, leaned down against the side of your neck, planting a lingering kiss. "Thank you, doll," his gravelly voice murmured, the aroma of whiskey lingering in the air.

Billy's fingers grazed lightly along your waist, sending a cascade of sensations through your body. His gaze met yours once more, a silent invitation lingering in his eyes. It was then that you became acutely aware of the speculative glances from the patrons, their curiosity fueled by the undeniable connection unfolding before them.

The weight of Billy's hat on your head felt like both a shield and a beacon, marking you as his amidst the prying eyes of the saloon.

The night passed on and as the final hand of poker concluded, Billy rose from his seat, still holding you close. "Wrapping it up for the night, boys. See ya tomorrow," he declared, his voice a mix of weariness and determination.

He grabbed your hand, guiding you out with a certain urgency. The saloon doors swung open, thrusting you back into the harsh glow of moonlight. As you stopped in front of his horse, he turned around and said, "What the hell were you thinking, coming here alone? You know how they treat women here."

His words cut through the night air, a mixture of concern and frustration etched on his rugged features. The distant sounds of revelry from the saloon formed a dissonant backdrop to the charged atmosphere between you.

You met his gaze, a swirl of emotions reflecting in his eyes. "I just wanted to have one free night, Billy. Just one," you replied, your voice carrying a note of desperation. Billy's jaw clenched, a silent acknowledgment of the dangers lurking in the shadows. "This ain't the place for that, especially not for someone like you," he muttered, his grip on your hand tightening as if to emphasize the point.

The weight of his words hung in the air, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still. The moonlight cast shadows across his face, revealing the hardened resolve etched into his expression. "I can't have you wandering into places like this, doll," he continued, a trace of vulnerability underlying his gruff tone. "It's too damn dangerous."

Billy sighed, a heavy exhale that seemed to release the tension in the air. "Let's get you home," he said, his voice softened. With a final glance back at the saloon, you moved towards his horse. As you approached, he placed his hands on your hips, lifting you onto the horse with a gentle yet firm touch. You instinctively grabbed his forearm for support, your eyes locking in a shared moment of intimacy. 

The ride home was a silent journey through the cool night air, the rhythmic hooves of the horse creating a steady cadence. You sat in front of Billy, the warmth of his body enveloping you, his strong arms encircling your waist as you traversed the dimly lit trails. 

As the horse navigated the uneven terrain, Billy's embrace tightened slightly, offering both stability and reassurance. His chin rested on your shoulder, his warm breath tickling your neck, and in that intimate proximity, the weight of your unspoken desires lingered like an invisible thread weaving through the darkness.

Arriving at your doorstep, Billy helped you dismount, his touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary. Your eyes met, a complex tapestry of emotions woven between you. He spoke, his words a whisper carried away by the night breeze, "Be more careful, doll. This world ain't kind, especially to those with a heart as tender as yours." He placed his hand against your cheek, caressing it lovingly.

"Billy," you responded, the ache in your voice carrying a mixture of gratitude and longing. He placed a loving kiss on your forehead, his touch a hushed plea for silence. "Go to sleep, doll. I'll come by tomorrow morning," he whispered, giving you a kiss on the forehead, turning away.

"Billy, wait," an urgency surged within you, desperate to find a reason for him to stay. You took off your hat, intending to return it to him, a feeble attempt to anchor him in the moment. “Keep it. I prefer it on you,” he remarked, a bittersweet acknowledgment that stirred emotions too complex to unravel.

Locked in a gaze that spoke volumes, you inched toward him, a silent plea lingering in the air. As your fingers tightened around the hat, a palpable tension filled the space between you. His intense blue eyes held yours, revealing a tumult of unspoken struggles and desires. Your gaze shifted to his lips—slightly chapped yet irresistibly inviting. 

Closing the distance, you reached him, and, without hesitation, pressed your lips against his. The kiss was a desperate plea, an attempt to convey the emotions that words couldn't capture.

Billy's initial surprise melted into a shared passion, and for a moment, the world around you faded. His arms encircled you, pulling you close as if trying to etch the moment into his memory. As the intensity deepened, you let go of the hat, your hands finding their way to his jaw, pulling him even closer. He tasted your soft lips and felt your warm skin. He pulled away slightly, breath mingling with yours, lips lingering, an anguished pause in the silent night.

"Fuck, doll," he groaned, your foreheads leaning against one another, his hands gripping the fabric on your waist. You looked up into his eyes, witnessing the inner battle reflected in his gaze as he grappled with the decision to restrain himself or not.

You approached your lips to his cheek, giving him a slight peck, when you heard him whisper, "Fuck it." His lips crashed to yours, hungry, hot, and demanding, stealing your breath in a heated rush. His hand came up, cupping your jaw, angling your head to deepen the kiss as he slicked his tongue inside your mouth.

“Come, let’s go inside, yeah?” He asked. You nodded at him, as he gave you a quick kiss, ushering you inside, “good girl.” And in an instant, he’s moving toward you, wrapping his arms around your body and pressing you to his chest. You press your lips to his and moan at the taste of Whiskey. His tongue slides over yours in slow strokes that make your cheeks warm, but it’s when his teeth nip at your bottom lip that a whine escapes. 

His rough, calloused hands drop to the cusp of your neck, gripping your hair just tight enough to make you hiss. You arch into his touch as he starts to explore your body, mapping out every dip and curve. 

“Billy- Please… do something.” He moans a response into your neck as his lips slip down to leave love bites along the column of your throat. 

Eager to feel you, Billy tried to pull at the strings of your corset, but to no avail. It was too complicated to remove in the dark, and with the emotions aptly blinding him, Billy had no patience to try.

In the dark, you heard a flick of a knife, and you felt a cold tip of the blade against your skin before Billy’s voice comforted you, “Be a good girl and don’t move, ok?”

A rip ran through the air as Billy sliced your corset in half from the back. You stayed perfectly still, trusting him completely to cut the clothing off of you without harming you at all. The moment Billy had cut your corset, he dropped it to the floor and pulled your top off with it.

He immediately lets his hands drop to your breasts, nipples already pebbling from the cool air. He pinches and pulls at them for only a moment before he’s trailing kisses down your stomach.

Bilily stops just above your hip bones, “May I?” he asks, blue eyes peering up at you. “Yes. Billy, please.” You beg him, voice thick with desperation. He chuckles and then rubs his hand over your throbbing clit. He slides one, then two thick fingers into your dripping pussy. A whimper bubbles from your swollen lips as he pulls back to spit on your heat. His fingers curl, digits stretching and scissoring inside you. Your head feels like it’s spinning, arousal leaking from your cunt and down Billy’s fingers. 

Your hips are unable to escape his assault on your g-spot when he pins you down, and you let out a moan you hardly recognize as your own. “Shit, you’re so wet.” His teeth catch his bottom lip as he smiles down at your fucked-out form. 

Billy’s hand never slows, even as he grinds his palm into your poor clit. You cum not long after, waves of pleasure crashing over and drowning you in euphoria. Your body is trembling as you come back to Earth and Billy is there, watching you from between your thighs. He places a kiss on your sensitive clit before he stands back up, towering over you. 

“Please. Fuck me, Billy.” You say through heavy breaths. He feels his head spin at the sound of your voice. 

“Whatever you want, doll.” 

Billy lays you across the couch and crawls over you, leaning back to release his aching cock from the confines of his pants. Saliva pools in your mouth at the sight of him, pre-cum drips from his flushed, red tip.

He fists his cock at the sight of you below him, lips parted and breasts heaving. Billy leans his body over yours, trapping you between him and the cushions below you. You can feel the muscle covering his torso press against your tummy. He ruts his cock through your pussy, the head catching on your clit deliciously. You both moan at the feeling and link your fingers together. 

“Fuck, you’re so perfect. I’m gonna make you all mine”, Billy coos down at you, searching your face for any hesitance. You nod at him, earning you a keen smile and a quick kiss. “It’s gonna hurt, doll, I’m sorry.” Squeezing his hand, you hold your breath when he lines himself up with your entrance.

You gasp when his tip slips into you, already feeling like he’s split you in two. Salty tears start to well in your lash line at the burn of Billy’s cock stretching you out for the first time. He’s much bigger than you anticipated and you dig your nails into his skin. 

“I know, I know. Just breathe.” He tries his best to comfort you, gritting his teeth at the feeling of your cunt around him. His heart stings at the sight of you crying for reasons other than pleasure, but he can’t help it when his hips buck, pushing himself another inch deeper.

Billy knows he should feel guilty for liking the way you screw your eyes shut, the way your cunt flutters around him even though he’d worked you open already. He’s not even halfway inside you and your legs are trembling around his waist while he holds himself back from pushing in balls-deep. He can’t help but feel a sense of pride swell in his chest at the effect he has on your body. 

Billy’s hand leaves yours and drops to your clit, rubbing tight circles with his thumb. Your mouth opens into an “O” shape and your sloppy cunt grants him another inch.  He can feel the velvet of your walls drawing him deeper, euphoria building in your veins. With every circle drawn, Billy pushes in further and further until he’s finally buried to the hilt. He stills for a moment, letting your cock-drunk mind play catchup with your body. “I’m gonna move, is that ok, doll?”

He pulls out, making you whine at the empty sensation, then, he’s driving his hips forward again. You loop your arms around his neck as he attacks your insides. Any words you have die on your tongue as Billy sets a rough, passionate pace. His tan skin, covered in old and new scars, feels slick against yours as his cock splits your mind in half. You can feel Billy everywhere, you can taste him, touch him, smell him, see him. He’s completely overwhelmed your senses and given you nothing to think about other than him.

The air around you is humid and thick, the scent of sex swimming through it. Billy slips in and out of you with ease, the clear strings of your slick and his pre-cum coat your pussy lips like a gloss. You let your gaze fall on him, watching how his brows furrow with concentration while he molds your insides into the shape of him.

Billy lifts your hips in the air to get an angle that allows him to hit even deeper, pumping his cock into you so hard that the air is forced from your lungs. There’s no one else you could want, no one else who could ever make you feel like this. 

“Shit Billy. I’m so close.” You moan, a familiar warmth starting to coil in your tummy. He nods and slots his lips against yours for one final kiss. His tongue explores your mouth as his dick strikes your g-spot, sending you headfirst into bliss. You cum hard as every nerve in your body is set aflame. His hot, sticky cum floods your walls and leaks from around his cock. 

Silence lies thick in the air aside from your heavy breathing and the soft kisses you share. Billy leans back to peer down at where you’re connected and shakes his head at you. 

He picks you up and places you over his hips, leaning you back. “Can’t waste this, doll.” He tuts at you, gathering the cum leaking from your abused pussy on his tip and pushing it back in. Throwing an arm behind his head, a fucked-out grin crosses his features as you sink down on his cock, letting him rub against your most sensitive spots. A strangled moan sounds in the back of your throat as he slowly pushes back into the deepest parts of your cunt.

His tongue darts out to lick the sweat off of his cupid’s bow, large hands moving to slide down your hips to grab at the fat of your ass. He guides you up and down on him as you babble and cry.

“I’ve got you, doll.” His words send a shiver down your spine and you brace yourself on his broad shoulders. Your cunt flutters around him, “Fuck Billy’-” you cry out.

Billy groans at the sight of a white ring around his shaft, made from a mixture of his and your cum. “So tight… taking me so fuckin’ well.” He bucks his hips, tip grazing your g-spot just right, just enough to make your eyes roll up into your head. “C’mon, doll.”

He leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead, then captures your lips with his. He swallows every moan and hiccup as he pounds into you, only slowing when you clench impossibly tighter around him. Stars are dancing in your vision and pleasure is burning in your veins. You hear him swear again, he lets his head fall back onto the cushions and plants his boots flat on the floor. You nearly scream as he fucks back up into you. He’s growling something in your ear, but his words sound so far away. 

“Cum on my cock, doll. C’mon, do it. Do it for me.” Billy babbles in your ear as he loses his rhythm, now just slamming his hips into yours with all the force he could muster. Your arms are clinging to his neck and he has you trapped against him. White, hot pleasure hits you like a ton of bricks as you squirm on Billy’s lap. His teeth sink into your shoulder as he pumps his hot, sticky cum into your womb. 

He lays back on the couch, letting you rest against his chest.  With a tender touch, he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss on the top of your hair. His lips lingered for a moment. As he pulled back, his fingers began to stroke your hair slowly, each caress a testament to the unspoken passion that simmered between you.

“From now on, that hat stays on you, doll. Let everyone in town see you belong to me."

send me billy thoughts or requests pleaseee :)

[hunny-beann]

I am literally having the worst day ever, do you think you could write some insanely fluffy Dream for me? I'm talking tooth rotting levels of fluff here.

Rest Now, Wife, Mine

Dream of the Endless x f!Reader

Note: Hi anon! Thanks a ton for the adorable request, I had a lot of fun with it and really hope it helps make your day feel a bit better <3

Synopsis: Morpheus' wife finds their bed far too lonely without him in it, and seeks out his presence to remedy this so she may finally succumb to slumber for the evening.

Thankfully, he is all too happy to oblige.

Warnings: None! Just pure and unbridled fluff :)

Word Count: 1,298

Her steps are silent and her pace slow as she approaches the familiar throne room, sensing even from outside of its walls that it is as close to empty as it is going to get for the evening.

That said, as close to empty as possible for the throne room of an Endless such as Dream was not nearly as empty as one might think, with it being a rarity that he not be found there.

She fights back a shiver as she steps across the threshold, her bare feet suddenly far colder than before, and her majority uncovered shoulders beginning to undergo horripilation at the seemingly inexplicable shift in temperature.

That said, being easy to explain was not a rule that the Dreaming followed, so this was nothing new, and certainly nothing unexpected.

Though, the sudden voice that split the once heavy silence in twain on the other hand, was.

"And what could possibly have you awake at such an hour, dear wife?"

The voice asked quietly, laced with both amusement and even a twinge of concern that had the wife in question smiling softly in spite of her best efforts to not appear excited at the mere sound of her love's voice.

Oh, but she had never been that strong, had she?

He had her wrapped around his finger just as he did the entire realm that he ruled, though he notably reserved the one with the ring for her and her alone.

She padded up toward his throne quietly, not willing to answer his question until she was close enough that her voice might not reverberate so loudly off of the palace walls.

Some words, she had decided long ago, were for her husband and her husband alone.

Upon her eager approach, the Lord of Dreams could not help but raise one of the corners of his mouth at the mere sight of her, holding his hand out at her nearness to guide her to stand before his crossed legs as he reached gently to take her other in his own as well, making a mental note of how chilled her extremities felt due to the cool night air of his throne room.

He watched as she slackened slightly at his familiar touch, her body always so happy to find him near in a way never ceased to have his heart all but melting at her feet.

What a disastrous little thing she was, truly.

He could never love another.

As her form relaxed at the feeling of his hands on hers, so loving in spite of the power that they held, she could not help but yawn softly, eyes growing teary as her ease allowed the weight of the day to truly set in.

Her dearest Dream Lord smirked up at her, his brow raised knowingly and his eyes twinkling as he watched her fight off the eternally tempting wiles of sleep.

What a sweet little thing, so helpless in her battles against her own biology that it was entirely too amusing to ignore, and always far too entertaining to neglect to bear witness to.

"You are tired, my dear."

The Lord of Dreams stated matter of factly, tugging his beloved closer using his soft grip on her hands so he could properly brush some of her hair behind her ear, a gesture which caused her eyelids to flutter closed briefly before they snapped open once more, her fight against herself not yet over in her eyes (though Dream could see clearly in the way that she swayed on her own two feet that there was already an obvious victor).

He chuckled quietly, shaking his head,

"You need to rest, sweet stardust. Let me bring you back to the bedroom."

He spoke gently, rising to guide her back to their soft and familiar bed only to halt when he heard her reply.

"No, I don't want to go back, you're just going to leave once you think I'm tired enough not to follow."

The Dream Lord faltered upon hearing this, raising a questioning brow in response before lowering himself down upon his throne once more, though this time he pulled his wife right along with him, sitting her on his lap in order to get a better look at her exhausted expression.

He frowned.

"Have you been staying awake on purpose, my love? Lying in wait for me as you promised you would not do?"

She shook her head, but he could see the way that the blood rushed into her cheeks as she tried to explain, embarrassed to admit the things that she had to in order to quell his worries of any intentional harm having been done.

"No, of course not, I just..."

The Lord of Dreams hummed and brought one hand to her back, rubbing up and down along her spine and feeling her lean against him unintentionally in response, her bones heavy and all too prepared to sink into whatever comfort they could find.

"You just what, dearest?"

He urged, causing his lover to nod blearily in response, slowly coming back to reality again.

"I just find that sometimes I cannot bear to sleep alone, that the bed feels far too wide and empty without you in it."

Dream fought back a slight smile upon hearing this, feeling more than a little bit proud to know that his wife could rely upon him enough to truly need him so (though he was notably unhappy to hear that this was causing her any amount of unnecessary strife).

"And is tonight one of those nights, beloved?"

He asked, watching as she nodded, her head lolling slightly upon her neck as her overworked muscles struggled to remain in control over her all too tired body and mind.

"Poor thing,"

Dream all but purred in response, adjusting his love upon his lap until she was leaning against him, breaths warm on his neck and body seeming to grow heavier by the second as the feeling of his familiar closeness drove her into a type of ease that was felt only at a lover's closeness.

"That will certainly have to be remedied, won't it?"

He murmured against her ear, feeling her shiver in response, nuzzling closer with a nod as he gathered his coat that had been hanging on the back of the dais behind him with just one hand, draping it over her body and pressing a soft kiss against her head as he felt her begin to drift off into a much needed and far too well deserved slumber.

"Rest now, wife, mine."

He said softly, feeling his dearest love smile gently against his skin at his familiar words and the use of his favorite (and almost sickeningly sweet) nickname for her,

"I will see to it that no one interrupts you as you do."

If she had been more awake, perhaps the woman would have rolled her eyes or even offered a sarcastic retort in response to her husband's dramatics, but instead she simply nudged herself closer, pressing a gentle kiss against the pale flesh of his neck before she drifted off for the very first time that night, feeling truly safe in the arms of her most adoring love.

And when morning arrived, and the throne room became far less uninhabited, the two of them made for quite a sight, indeed.

After all, who would have thought that the Lord of Dreams might choose to sleep simply to live life as his dear wife did, his cheek pressed gently against her head and his arms wrapped around her as slumber found them both, pulling them closer together, ever still, in the very same way that they belonged now, and always would for the remainder of eternity, and perhaps even beyond that.

ao3 link

[aemondtargaryenonlyfans]

LECHERY.

Aemond Targaryen x wife!Reader

Based on the request: “I love your write so much !!!!! Can you write a jealosy Dom Aemond when his wife his dance and have fun with Jace at the dinner. So he put her on his knees and punish her, after that he fuck and give orgasms to show at who she belongs. A kinda dark but not to much, he loves her in his black heart after all“

WORDS: 3.9 K

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT-MINORS DNI; DUB-CON, profanity, rough oral sex (face fucking), p in v, balls worship, humiliating, degrading, breeding kink, jealous Aemond, female Reader

“Come... let us drain our cups to these three... strong boys.“

And with that, everything went downhill. 

The evening had started relatively tame, considering you had supper in the Dragon’s lair with ten more or less hot-blooded Dragons surrounding you.

There was a bit of tension between the youngest present members of the family, but considering most incidents happened way before you even met your husband, you were somewhat oblivious to most of it. 

Until Jacaerys Velaryon had prowled around the long table and asked you to dance, catching you off guard, considering you were in a conversation with Helaena. 

Her soft and encouraging smile eventually coaxed you to accept the offer, but only because you hadn’t dared to look at your husband from over your shoulder, and felt the need to accept it out of courtesy; not wanting to cause any bad blood between you and the side of your husband’s family. 

Aemond wasn’t keen on dancing. Never had been, never would be. The only exception he made was on the evening of your wedding, more because he felt duty bound than that he actually enjoyed and wanted it. 

The possessive and jealous demeanor of your husband wasn’t a secret, though you suspected Jacaerys asked you to dance on purpose as a polite way to rile him off. He barely touched more than your hand during the dance, but that was already too much for Aemond, probably because he loathed his nephew.

On top of that, the giggles and laughs erupting from you didn’t help with his jealousy either. It was Jacaerys easy demeanor and his inability to dance that brought you a great sense of joy after the first rounds of swirling and circling around each other, he just didn’t take himself too seriously. 

Just one look over to where your Dragon sat motionless in his seat, facing the direction of the designated dance floor to keep his stern eye neatly trained on you, told you that you were in for a lot of trouble. 

That proved to be right. 

Not one glance was spared into your direction when Aemond exited the Small Hall after facing his uncle Daemon. It was unusual, had he always been nothing else than a devoted and caring husband, which was why you practically bolted out of the room to follow him. 

His footsteps were heavy, bouncing off the stone walls of the Red Keep as his large strides effortlessly carried him towards your martial chambers, his stance threatening enough to have every maid or person of court moving aside on his way. 

When the thick wooden door finally fell shut behind you, there was nothing else than silence and the dim light the fireplace granted filling your quarters. Hadn’t you seen your husband entering them before, you would have thought he wasn’t there. But you knew he was. You felt his presence. Your eyes flickered through the room, needing a few seconds to adjust to the light. 

A firm hand caught your loose tresses in a tight grip all of the sudden, the gasp that surged from your tongue replaced by a short shriek with you being all but yanked towards the large bed. 

It felt as if he placed his whole weight onto your body, your knees buckling until eventually they hit the hard stone floor. Much to your luck, the gown you wore was quite thick and cushioned the impact to a certain point. It still was painful, but hadn’t had you wincing. 

When your wide doe eyes looked up, you were blessed with the sight of Aemond looming over you. His jaw was clenched, probably the only indicator visible on his usually stern face that displayed the anger he felt. The eye patch was long gone, the blue Sapphire in his socket capturing the obtuse light of the fire, making him appear even more threatening. 

Your courtesy had pushed his limits, and with the position you were in, you knew you were trapped. 

A frown was knotted on your forehead, and despite knowing all too well what got you into this dilemma, you opted to play the innocent victim, feigning your confusion. 

“What is this about, husband?“ 

There were a few seconds of silence between you, passing with you shifting your weight from one knee to the other to ease the tension and stiffness in the joints. When the reply didn’t come even though his narrowed eye was fixed with yours, you tried to rise to your feet again, only for him to yank you back down by your hair. 

The harsh tugging was the main reason your heart rate increased, wildly thrumming against the confines of your ribcage. A stark contrast to the way he treated you normally. 

“Kneel, ābrazȳrys,” a command, and with the choice of his tone it was clear that it wasn't up to debate.

“But ‘tis not comfortable,” you protested. 

“You were not complaining about being uncomfortable with my nephew earlier.”

“I was not kneeling on stones either.”

“Oh, but I bet you thought about it. I saw the lecherous way that bastard-born fool was looking at you,” each word laced with venom. 

“You know we were just dancing, Aemond.”

“Were you? Or were you toying with him? Or toying with me?” he accused, hand remaining in your hair, whereas the other slowly undid the laces in the front of his breeches. 

“I am… I am afraid I do not understand,” your eyes had long traveled down to watch the movements of his hand, when awareness toppled over you about what he had planned to do. The front of his breeches was strained into a tent, looking incredibly painful and uncomfortable. 

It happened tortiously slowly. The laces loosened enough for him to push the front down, revealing his white braises which quickly followed to expose his throbbing length to the chill air of your quarters.

The pale skin was flushed around the tip, angrily begging for attention and relief. Droplets of his arousal leaked out of the small slit, giving it a slight glow. You were accustomed to the size of his member, sheathed deep inside of you almost every night since your wedding, but the perspective had it looking even more considerable than it already was. 

Just by looking at it, you could feel the soreness already creeping up to the back of your throat, straining your voice. 

His stones hung low, twitching and swinging every time Aemond’s hand wandered up to stroke down the full length of him. Lascivious thoughts clouded your mind, your mouth filling with saliva as the urge to lick and embrace his jewels with your lips became unbearable. 

“You are mine,” an unnerving timbre in his quiet voice, “it would be best for you to remember that.”

With the shivers running up your spine also came bolts of electricity that flickered into the other direction, filling the heat at the apex of your legs with anticipation. 

His jealousy and possessiveness toward you was something you should be concerned of, showing the danger that radiated off of him, and the true threat he was. If the deliberate ruse at supper was the fruit of nothing else than your courtesy, it would not stop at that. That only was the beginning, every sense of trepidation falling victim to his temper.

Your eyes were wide, the shimmer in them caused by the anxiety you felt. 

“I do remember,” seconds of silence passed in which you were looking for the right words to say, “Iksan aōhon.” I am yours. 

High Valyrian did not come as easy to you, as it came to your husband. The lack of lessons and Valyrian descent were not the best requirements to learn a tongue as difficult as it. But you tried, grasping a few of the words he repeated over and over whenever he spoke to you during multiple occasions. 

A bit more of the blue Sapphire was revealed when his eyes widened in surprise, unveiling some of the tenderness he felt towards you, even though it turned back to its usual cold and stern expression straight away. 

The grip on your hair released, and with the feeling of your scalp finally being able to relax again, you felt your heart rate slowing down, too. And when his hand instead cupped the back of your head, fingers tentatively massaging the assaulted skin, you couldn't stop leaning into his touch. You were basking in the feigned safety, caught by surprise when your face was urged toward his erect member.

“Perhaps my sweet wife needs some help to remember her place, gaomas ziry daor?” Does she not? 

“Kostilus,” you teased, your own arousal not a secret anymore. Perhaps.

Much to your husband’s surprise, not one second was wasted until the tip of your tongue was sweeping from the base of his cock up to the bulbous tip, the salty taste of his arousal spreading over your taste buds. 

Your heavy breaths fannef over the flushed skin, provoking a huff of air to slip past Aemond’s lips. 

The entirety of his palm was immediately wrapped with the strands of your long hair again, making it easier for him to keep your head exactly where he wanted it. Not that you minded, as long as things moved on your accord with a lot of preparation. 

Knowing your job, you reached to grasp his stiff member, using the bit of your saliva that ran along the underside as lubrication. Your tongue penetrated the spot between the base of his cock and the sac of his stones, until eventually your lips parted against his stones to suckle gently as you took them in your mouth. 

You felt Aemond twitching in your touch, hand slowly stroking up and down the entirety of his thick length.

It was the first time you went that far and engulfed his jewels, but your husband had little time to question where that boldness came from. The pleasure was too good, perfectly audible in the ragged breaths that spilled from him, only interrupted by a few grunts and groans. The indecency of your own ministrations surprised you all the same, but it satiated and soothed something in you that was long embedded in the back of your mind. 

It was the sharp tug of your husband that pulled you out of your trance like state, his jewels generously coated in your saliva from how fervently you had sucked on them. 

“You appear eager to have something in your mouth, Y/N,” he rasped as two of his slender fingers pried your lips apart, sinking into your mouth deep enough to gag you, before they were replaced by his cock, “Perhaps I can help you with that.”

His erect member laid heavy on your tongue, and you had little time to prepare yourself for what was to follow. As the feeling of your warm mouth around him reached Aemond’s mind, he wasted no time in bucking his hips into you. The ambush on your throat caused you to clutch his thighs, nails digging into the thin fabric of his ruffled breeches. 

The girth and length of him left little to no space for any air to fill your lungs, especially whenever he halted for a few seconds to relish in the tightness and heat your mouth granted him. He never went deep enough for your nose to nuzzle against his lower stomach, because otherwise he would spill down your throat in a matter of seconds. 

All you could do was to hollow your cheeks around him, draggin the tip of your tongue along the underside of his cock and the vein that ran from the base to the tip. His abdominal muscles flexed at the sensations you granted him, more so when one of your hands clasped around the bit of his length that didn't fit into your mouth. 

However, your husband seemed to have other plans in mind, and peeled your hand off of him. Both his hands were steadily planted on either side of your face, keeping your head in place. 

There was no need for him to sink into you fully, your eyes already glassy from swallowing only half of him. Tears brimmed in them, straining your cheeks on their way down. The urge to squeeze them shut was big, but you kept them trained on his violet one. This allowed you to spot the exact moment your husband lost control, his hips thrusting into you on their own accord. He grabbed your head, tilting it to try for you to take as much of him as possible, until you were doing nothing at all and allowing him to use you however he desired. 

“Sīr sȳz,” the words pierced through the silence like a prayer, repeated by him multiple times. So good.

His groans grew in volume, whereas you only gripped his thighs as if your life depended on it. You gagged around him, saliva leaking down the corner of your lush lips and dripping onto your bosom, or at least the bit that was exposed through the low-cut neckline of your black dress. You relished in his praise, his appreciation making the whole assault a bit more bearable.

His cock started to grow harder, if that was even possible, indicating that he was on the verge of his peak. The mere thought of swallowing his salty spent coaxed you to hollow your cheeks around him once more, applying a bit of pressure to his cock by flattening your tongue and pressing it against him.

With his soaring pleasure also rose the pressure he applied on your face, combined with the loss of air the main cause for your vision to grow blurry, a slight headache flaring across your head. 

The ability to suck in some air was short-lived, coming and going every time he chose to force the tip of his cock down your throat again. If you were to place your hand on the juncture of it, you were sure to feel him from the outside, feeling and seeing how he eased his way down the tightness.

But suddenly, the pressure eased, and you coughed when too much air filled your lungs at once. 

Aemond’s breathing came in heavy bursts as he looked down at you, mouth agape and a slight pink tinting the pale skin around his cheeks, “Fuck that mouth of yours… I need to finish in your cunt.”

With that, you were yanked to your feet by your hair, turned around and toppled over the edge of the bed, landing on your stomach. The skirt of your dress was pushed up to reveal your smallclothes underneath, a damp spot visible in the center of them. The embarrassment of your lecherous desires caused you to bury your face in the bedcovers, heat radiating off your cheeks. You did not dare to look at him from over your shoulder, his mocking snicker perfectly audible. 

“Do you like this?” he asked, sarcasm laced within his voice, “do you enjoy when I treat you like a common whore?”

The shame his words caused to rise in you had you clenching your thighs together to which Aemond just tsked. Both his hands grasped your thighs to pry them apart again. They inched up your arse, fingers hooking underneath the hem of your smallclothes, tearing them down your body.

From that angle, Aemond was able to see just how affected you truly were by the whole situation, your cunny pulsing around nothing, and shining with the juices that had seeped out of your swollen folds. 

The sight was truly divine, and Aemond thanked the Seven for bringing you into his life. 

“Oh, you undoubtedly like this,” he purred. 

The bed shifted as Aemond climbed behind you, kneeling between your parted legs. One hand brushed your exposed thigh in a soothing manner, comforting you while the tip of his cock prodded at your greedy entrance. It moved up and down your folds, brushing against your little bud. Jolts of pleasure coursed through your body at that, the aching need for attention slowly being stilled by him. 

It was your whiny voice that filled the silence, “stop teasing me, husband… please.”

You moaned at the sensations, fisting the sheets in both hands as you tried to push your hips back, needing to feel more of him. As that didn't work, you opted to wiggle your hips instead to coax him into you to which Aemond just served a stinging slap to your right arse cheek, not even giving you a warning first. 

Your rear clenched together at the pain, not even his hand resting on the reddening skin able to soothe it. 

“Stay still,” he instructed, hands gripping the flesh of your arse tightly, pinning you down.

The pressure at your hole returned. Knowing his size (and still feeling its remnants lingering in your throat) you were glad to be soaking wet for him, because otherwise it would’ve been even more uncomfortable than it already was.

Despite taking him almost every night ever since your wedding, you still hadn’t grown accustomed to his size, the pain of his intrusion causing you to gasp. For a few seconds, pain was everything you felt, until it was replaced by pleasure. 

Once he had thrusted into you in a swift motion, his pubic bone pressing against your backside, he gave you time to adjust to his size. You felt full, almost as if he was to come out your throat at any given moment. The tip rested against your cervix, every throbbing of him adding to the fullness you felt. 

“M-Move… please,” you all but begged him, resting your cheek on the bedcovers; and your husband complied.

A shuddered breath was heard from behind you as you squeezed his cock, resulting in him pulling out almost completely to snap his hips right back in once the tip was the only thing engulfed by your heat. 

“I will never get used to your tightness,” he panted.

His hips moved to pistone in and out of your cunt, brushing your sweet spot every time he entered you. Aemond was so forceful, the tight grip on your hips was the only thing to keep you from shooting up into the headboard. 

Not long after, he released one of his hands and started to slap your arse, watching the way you squirmed and whined at the pain and euphoria that simultaneously filled your veins. He was silently wishing he had allowed his jealousy to take over much sooner, seeing how much you seemed to enjoy it.

The rustling of the bedcovers and dipping of the mattress next to your waist indicated that Aemond had shifted in his position, one hand neatly planted on the bed to support his weight as he towered over your body. You reached behind you to try and grab ahold of any part of his body you could grasp, but your husband had other plans. 

His hand clasped around your wrist whilst finding the other one, and brought them behind your back. His hand was large enough to envelope both your wrists, pinning them to your back and therefore forcing you to lean on your face. 

You felt the steady tightening of your stomach, your cunny and thighs tingling as your moans and whines grew louder. Faint stars danced along your vision, blacked out by the pillows underneath. 

Aemond felt you nearing your peak, his own already tingling at the tip of his cock thanks to the preparations you both had taken beforehand. 

“‘M going to fill you up,” Aemond grunted, emphasizing his words with a row of sharp thrusts, “fill you with my seed again and again until you are round with my child.” Just the thought caused his stones to seize up. He was walking on the edge, ready to tumble down into the abyss.

He spared no time in seeking out his pleasure, letting his cock go in and out with determination, slamming his pelvis into you with reckless abandon seen only in patrons of a brothel. 

The wet sound of your sweaty bodies slapping together was music to his ears, further sweetened by the quiet whimpers and moans you released every time he buried himself balls deep inside of your glorious womanhood. 

His hand found your hair, pulling and twisting your mane in his hand until he forced you to arch your back for him, allowing him to thrust into you deeper than before. He was hitting your sweet spot so utterly perfect, almost spending himself at the mere thought of how deeply he was impaling you. 

You, on the other hand, felt as if you had to pee, your thighs inevitably clenching together to stop the liquid from leaking out of you. The added tightness and stimulation allowed Aemond to topple over the edge. His soul was roaring in victory as his cock bursted his spent inside of you, spilling ropes of his hot seed deep inside your quivering walls. 

As he peaked, he felt your cunt clamping down on him, milking him for every drop. You were peaking from being fucked like an animal, as if you were a wildling living in the lands beyond the wall. 

Your legs trembled uncontrollably, and ridiculous amounts of your arousal oozed out of your cunt, coating the entirety of his member and dripping down his pulsing balls. 

You laid limply beneath him, trying to tame the chaos your overwhelming orgasm had caused within you, whereas he didn't seem to have that much trouble to regain his composure. 

Aemond’s tall frame towered over yours, bowing forward to press a kiss to the juncture of your shoulder. It was a welcomed gesture, but the gentleness quickly turned into something wicked, when he sank his teeth into the plumpness of your flesh. The stinging pain took you by surprise, causing you to clench around his flaccid cock. By the muffled groan Aemond unleashed against your skin, you knew he was just as overstimulated and sore as your cunt and throat. 

When he let go of your skin, he admired the burgeoning bruise that showed on your skin, satisfied he had claimed you in two ways that night. Your maids were going to see his claim on you the following morning, and with them not being able to keep their mouths shut, it was only a matter of time until the gossip about it spread throughout the castle and reached the damned ears of his bastard-born nephew. 

He pushed you off of him, hands grazing the reddened flesh of your arse, before he tugged himself back into his breeches. The heavy sigh that left his lips was enough to tell that his body (and jealousy) was content and sated, more so when a look over his shoulder revealed his seed trickling out of your well-fucked cunt. Another great rush of satisfaction coursing through him. 

“Dawn is almost upon us, sweet wife,” he cooed, “catch some rest. We will discuss this matter in the morrow when we break fast.”

There was no response coming from you. Too many impressions were clouding your mind and perception, the most prominent one being the question about the next time you would be able to dance with another man.

[serpentandlily]

Untouchable III - Azriel x Reader

Untouchable - Azriel x Rhysand'sSister! Reader ✨

Summary: For as long as you can remember, you have always had feelings for Azriel, your court's spymaster. But after centuries of watching him pine after your own cousin, hoping he'd eventually move on, your wish came true. He moved on-with Elain, your brother's mate's middle sister. Unable to watch him fall in love with someone else again, you flee from Velaris, from him. But things are a lot more complicated than that - more complicated than you ever imagined.

Warnings: angst

a/n: Okay all your comments/reblogs have literally made me dieeee laughing. Y'all are so funny lmao. Hope you enjoy this one! I had lots of fun writing it <3

➻❥ Part I ➻❥ Part II ➻❥ Part III ➻❥ Part IV ➻❥ Part V

➻❥ Part VI ➻❥ Part VII ➻❥ Part VIII ➻❥ Part IX ➻❥ Part X

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Part III

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The cool night breeze kissed the flesh exposed by your silk nightgown as you sat on the railing of your balcony, dangling your legs over the edge. You could faintly hear music and the sound of laughter as Velaris came alive around you. You blew a loose strand of hair out of your face as you gazed up at the bright moon glowing down on you in the night sky. 

“I need some advice right now, Mama,” you whispered into the night. “Everyone seems to be finding their place in this world but I…I don’t know where I belong or what I’m even here for. And everything has been falling apart recently and I could really, really, use one of your hugs right now.”

After the disastrous training session this morning, you had spent the rest of the day watching over Nyx. Being with him made you feel better. Your nephew was a reminder that there were more important things in your life than a certain shadowsinger and his crazy mood swings. 

But now Nyx was asleep and you were left alone with your thoughts once again. 

Azriel had been so rough with you today, so cruel. And your heart panged with the thought that he would never dare treat Elain, or even Mor, like that. You let out a sigh and drew one knee to your chest, resting your head against it. Would this heartache ever go away? Or were you cursed by the Mother to forever yearn for a male who would never want you? 

Somehow you could sense him before you even heard the flap of wings. A thud sounded behind you and the smell of night-chilled mist and cedar flooded your senses. His presence felt heavy and dark and you refused to turn around despite the way it put you on edge. 

Silence. Nothing but tense silence filled the air. If it wasn't for Azriel's looming presence behind you, you might've thought you imagined him coming. You waited a breath...then another. Still nothing. You felt him take a step closer to you; his shadows eased their way between your arms, over your shoulders, through your hair. You could feel his warm breath on the back of your neck. 

Another moment went by and you couldn't take it anymore. You blew out a low breath. 

"I didn't snitch on you if that's what you're thinking," you scoffed, your gaze never straying from the moon. "You can blame that on Cass. So if my brother sent you here to apologize, save it."

Silence once more. Your grip on the edge of the stone railing tightened. Why wasn't he saying anything? Why did he come here? 

"Rhys didn't send me here." You almost jumped at the sound of his voice, your heartbeat rising. "In fact, your brother forbade me from seeking you out."

Yet here he was, going directly against his High Lord's orders. Your brows furrowed but you refused to turn around, refused to look at him. So much had changed between the two of you in the last twenty-four hours.

"So why are you here?"

"I hurt you." His voice was as dark as his shadows.

You glanced down at your bandaged hand. The image of his cold face as he struck down on you with his sword replayed in your mind. But you weren't sure which had hurt more. The slice down your palm or the words he had spat at you. 

"You did." 

"Y/n..." he whispered your name. You felt his hand ghost over your shoulder, as if he were about to touch you, but his touch never came. "I'm sorry. I was...I was angry and I took it out on you—”

"You weren't just angry, Az," you cut him off. "You were angry with me. Why? What did I do to earn your ire?"

You finally turned around and gasped as you caught sight of his face. He had a black eye, his left cheekbone was surrounded by black and purple bruises, and his bottom lip had been split open, though it looked to be already healing. His hair was tousled as if he had spent hours running his hand through it, some pieces hanging down his forehead. 

"I deserved it," he said, darkly as your eyes searched his face for any more injuries. You knew your brother had been behind them. "You've done nothing wrong. Like I said, I wasn't angry with you."

You let out another scoff and jumped down from the railing. The ground was cold against your bare feet as you brushed past Azriel and strode towards the glass doors leading to your bedroom. 

“Where are you going?”

You waved a dismissive hand in the air. “I refuse to entertain a conversation with you if you’re going to blatantly lie to me.”

“I’m not lying,” he ground out through his teeth. 

You whirled around, crossing your arms. “Then why did you say all those things to me? If you were just angry, why not let off steam by sparring with Cass like you always do? You targeted me.” 

“I didn’t mean any of the things I said, y/n.”

“You still said them.” 

“Fine,” he snarled. He stalked towards you looking like a fallen angel straight from Hell, wings and all. You couldn’t help but take a step back. “Do you want to know why I’m so angry, princess?”

You gasped as he pressed a large hand flat against your sternum and pushed you against the wall, holding you there. Your eyes widened as you stared up at him. His expression was dark, his jaw clenched. 

“I’m angry because you let that undeserving, piece of shit male put his hands all over you,” he growled. “I'm angry you even let him look in your direction.”

You glared up at him. “Why should it even matter to you?”

“Because it does.” He slammed a hand against the wall beside your head causing your heart to pound in your chest. “It fucking does.”

“Why?” Your voice was a mere whisper. 

Azriel sucked in a breath, his head dropping into the crevice of your neck. You didn’t think your heart could beat any faster or you might possibly die. He splayed his hand out on your stomach, holding you in place. 

“Azriel?” you questioned, uncertain of what he was doing. He had never acted so erratic around you. You went to take a step forward but he slammed you back against the wall with the hand on your stomach. 

“Don’t,” he said through gritted teeth. “Don’t move.”

Your breath got caught in your throat. He trailed his nose up your throat column, barely brushing against the fragile skin. Butterflies erupted in your stomach at his touch, at his closeness to you. 

“Az,” you started, placing your hand on his chest. “What are you—”

You stopped talking as he laid his hand over your much smaller one. He closed his eyes, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “Don’t touch me.”

But his hand squeezed yours, keeping it in place. You were so confused—so utterly confused by his behavior. He pried your hand off his chest after a moment and you let your arm fall limp.  

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” His voice was so low, it sent a shiver down your spine. His hand gripped your hip so tightly, the fabric of your nightgown bunching in his fist. 

When his eyes opened again, he looked wild—feral. His hand slid up your waist, grazing the side of your breast, until it lingered on your throat. Heat started to coil inside of you. Fire burned a trail through your veins. You couldn’t find any words, your mind suddenly empty of every single thought except one.

Azriel took a deep inhale and you were certain he could smell your arousal. Your cheeks turned pink with embarrassment. But his pupils dilated at your scent, making his eyes look black, as the hand that was on the wall clenched so tightly, parts of the brick chipped off, clattering to the floor. His other hand moved up your throat to cup the side of your cheek, a scarred thumb brushing against your skin. 

You swallowed audibly, frozen in place. You could scent his own arousal, could feel it pressing against your stomach, as his hard body kept you as its prisoner. Your mouth parted in a gasp and his head dipped down, his nose brushing against yours. And then his lips hovered over yours and you held your breath. Your body screamed at you to do something, anything. But he had ordered you not to move, not to touch him.

Your heart nearly stopped as his lips feathered yours and you waited. Waited for him to make the final move, to press his lips against yours for real. To kiss you. Something that had only ever happened in your dreams. But instead, he let out a loud grunt of pain and pulled himself away from you so quickly, it felt like you had been slapped. 

You blinked up at him, disorientated. “A-Azriel?”

He let out a frustrated growl, running a hand through his hair, as his whole body seemed to tense. When he met your eyes, goosebumps covered your skin because of the darkness in his gaze. The hand at his side clenched in and out of a fist. Like he was restraining himself from something. 

You were shaking like a leaf, glad the wall could support you, otherwise you were sure you would’ve crumbled to the floor. You waited for him to speak, to say anything that might explain what the hell had just happened. But when he finally did, his words were like a spear to the heart.

“Do yourself a favor, princess, and stay the hell away from me.” The words came out in a snarl and his huge wings snapped out, casting a dark shadow over your form. Before you could even say anything, he launched himself into the air and disappeared into the dark night sky. 

The breath you hadn’t known you’d been holding in was expelled out of your lungs and you slid down the wall until you were on the floor, drawing your knees up to your chest. Your mind whirled as you tried to figure out what just happened. 

But hours later, when the sun began to crest over the horizon, you were still so lost. 

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

A few days passed by without you so much as catching a glimpse of Azriel. Apparently, your brother had sent him off on some mission, likely out of spite. Or perhaps even for your benefit. As much as you wanted to see him after that night on the balcony, his absence gave you time to think about what you wanted or needed to do. 

Ultimately, you decided the next time you came across him alone, you would force him to talk to you, to tell you what the hell that night was about. It was only fair. You deserved an explanation after all. He had treated you like shit, then came to you and nearly kissed you, before disappearing. And his words had been ringing in your head every single night.

Do yourself a favor, princess, and stay the hell away from me.

They made no sense to you. It had seemed like he wanted you that night, judging by the arousal you had scented, the feel of him against you. And you knew he could tell you wanted him too. So why would you be doing either of you any favors from staying away from him? It made no Godsdamn sense and you needed an answer to his cryptic words. So you would demand it of him the next time he came around. 

You stretched your legs out on the couch, yawning as you placed a bookmark to keep your place in the novel you were in the middle of reading, and snapped it closed. It had been a long day of taking care of Nyx while Rhys and Feyre had to attend to some courtly duties. The house had been noticeably vacant today, just the two wraith twins occasionally floating in to check on you and baby Nyx. 

Normally Elain was around to keep you company on days like this but even she had run off somewhere for the day. You had just started to get up, ready to retire to your bed, when the front door slammed open. You jumped at the noise, whirling towards the foyer. Rhys and Feyre weren’t due back until tomorrow morning, so who else could it—

Elain stumbled into view, followed by Azriel. Both hadn’t even noticed your presence as they kissed wildly, bumping against the walls as they moved inside. The scent of Elain’s arousal flooded the room and you choked on the scent causing them to break apart in surprise. 

Your stomach sank at their appearance. The top buttons of Azriel’s shirt were undone, exposing some of the tattoos on his chest. Elain’s hair was in disarray, her lips swollen, as if they had been up to this for a while now.  Well, that explained why Elain had been gone all day. 

You stared at them with wide eyes as hurt slammed its way into you. Azriel had returned from his mission. He had returned and had sought out Elain. Hadn’t even thought to come to you to maybe give you some explanation of that night. You were probably the last thing on his mind right now anyways, that much was clear. 

“Oh my Gods,” Elain exclaimed, placing a hand to her chest. “I’m so sorry, y/n. I knew Feyre and Rhys would be gone and assumed you’d be in bed by now.” 

Azriel said nothing, only stared at you with a cold, unfeeling look. You felt your breath shallow out, your nerves causing your hands to shake. You wanted to scream, wanted to vomit, to cry. But you did nothing. Just mustered up a small smile and muttered, “It’s okay.”

Elain went to say something else but Azriel grabbed her hand and leaned down to whisper in her ear, holding eye contact with you the entire time. “Come on, let’s go.”

He smirked as she blushed red and you could do nothing but just stare and stare at him. You didn’t move an inch as he pulled her away and up the stairs, Elain giggling the entire time. You didn’t move even after you heard her bedroom door slam close. 

You thought there was no way he could’ve hurt you more, but you had clearly underestimated him. How could he? How could he…act like that with you and then just carry on as if nothing happened? How could he just carry on with another girl after that charged night? You hand clenched the book you were holding as you struggled through your feelings. 

Your already broken heart somehow found even more ways to tear itself apart. But unlike months ago when you had caught them in the same predicament and cried all through the night and eventually fled from Velaris, no tears came this time. No tears at all. Instead white hot anger burned through you instead. 

You were tired of being captive to your own feelings. Tired of letting the stupid shadowsinger have so much power over you. You were so unbelievably tired of being constantly hurt by him. You couldn’t even use the excuse that he had no idea what he was doing to you when he had just made it so clear he did.

Your jaw tightened and you gave yourself over to the rage you felt. He had told you to stay away from him. So you would. But you sure as hell were about to make it impossibly hard for him to stay away from you. 

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The next two days, you did exactly that. You ignored Azriel entirely. Didn’t so much as look in his direction. At training each morning with the Valkyries, you made sure to have a sparring partner ready to go before he could even open his mouth and demand you train with him. You didn’t greet him, only hugged Cassian good-bye each day, and pretended you didn’t hear him when he would call out your name. 

Meanwhile, you had spent your time in heated negotiations with your brother. You were ready to carve a place out for yourself in this court and after many discussions with him, Feyre and Mor, you three had reached a compromise. A certain letter that came from the continent had helped you plead your case. 

And that is why when Rhys stood up at family dinner, clearing his throat to get everyone’s attention, you knew exactly what he was going to announce. You kept your hands folded in your lap, your shoulders held back, and your body angled away from the end of the table where the shadowsinger sat. 

“Another announcement in a week?” Cassian laughed. “Don’t tell me Feyre’s having twins!”

Everyone chuckled as Nesta slapped him on the back of his head. He only grinned at his mate, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. You smiled at their interaction despite the envy that crept its way into your head. Oh how you wished for that kind of love. Perhaps one day you would find your own mate and forget about the shadowsinger entirely. 

“Gods no,” Feyre chuckled from beside Rhys who conjured a piece of parchment in his hand. “We come with some news from the continent.” 

“I received some correspondence from Prince Cedric,” Rhys explained. “The King of Vallahan’s first born son and Heir to the Throne.” 

“Go on, read it to them,” Mor said with a giddiness that caused you to smile. 

Rhys read from the letter out loud:

To High Lord of the Night Court, Rhysand,

I am writing to you because I have had the pleasure of spending the past month in the company of your lovely sister, y/n. I must admit, your sister has charmed my heart with her kindness, grace, wit and loyalty to your court. We know very little of Prythian’s courts here on the continent, but if your sister is a shining example of your citizens, I must admit, I am all the more curious about your court. As you might know, I am next in line for the Crown and my time may be coming soon.

In a world dictated by power, alliances between territories have allowed for stability and peace. When my time to wear the crown comes, I would like it to also come with the forging of two strong realms. With the utmost sincerity and goodwill, I believe a union between our territories through marriage would not only reward me with a beautiful bride, but prosperity and peace between our people. I assure you, High Lord, that I will propose with sincere commitment to your sister, to give her a life filled with love and respect as my future Queen. 

I understand that this is not a decision that will be made without proper communications, so I am prepared to meet with you at your earliest convenience to discuss this matter further. I hope you consider my request and I will remain with anticipation until you reach out.

Sincerely yours,

Prince Cedric of Vallahan

Heir to the Throne

A fork dropped on the table somewhere behind you and the room was silent for a moment before Cassian let out a loud whistle. “Holy shit, y/n!”

Mor cackled, reaching over the table to give you a high five. “That’s right, our girl bagged herself a Prince.” 

Your cheeks turned a bit pink at the attention. To be honest, you had no idea that Prince Cedric had been captured by you. It wasn’t like you engaged in any romantic courting or even so much as touched each other's hands. But your mere personality had won him over. Too bad he just wasn’t the male your heart had set its course on. 

“Not just a Prince, girl,” Amren chimed in. “A future King.” 

You could feel a heavy gaze settle on you from the other side of the table but refused to look that way. 

“And what about you, y/n?” Nesta asked. “Did the Prince win over your heart as well?” 

“I must admit, the letter came as quite a surprise to me,” you answered honestly.

“To me, as well,” Mor jumped in. “I mean, it’s not like they spent much time together outside of the formal dinners and parties we attended while there. Unless, of course, you snuck off with him while I wasn’t watching, you naughty wench.” 

You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. “I assure you, I was a proper lady during our time at the King’s Cross.” 

“You certainly weren’t a proper lady during our time in Nysa,” Mor mumbled under her breath with a smirk. You kicked her under the table with a glare. 

You couldn’t stop yourself from glancing at Azriel this time. He was already staring at you, his jaw set, his fist clenched around the stem of his wine glass. You could’ve sworn a bit of jealousy shined in his eyes. You quickly looked away, not wishing to show him you even cared about his reaction, though you did. 

“Well, as fun as this is,” Cassian said. “There’s no way you’d marry off your sister to go live in another territory. Right, Rhys?” 

Rhys looked inclined to agree but Feyre nudged him in the gut with her elbow. “If that is what she wishes, she will always have my blessing. It is her choice, of course. But a marriage is not the announcement I planned on making today. I merely read this letter to you all to show you how successful y/n has been as a representative of our court. And because of that, we have officially decided to not only give her the title of Emissary, but she is also going to take over Mor’s position in the Court of Nightmares since Mor has had her hands full with negotiations on the continent.” 

“It's about time you let your sister prove herself as a valuable member of this court,” Amren said, the closest thing you’d ever get as a congratulations. She did give you a small smirk, pride shining in her silver eyes. 

“She has always been a valuable member,” Cassian snided but smiled at you regardless. “If this is what you want, y/n, then congratulations! I’m glad I’ve taught you all the ways to kick ass, especially if you’re now going to be spending more time in Hewn City.” 

You laughed but gave him your thanks. Feyre proposed a toast for you and you couldn’t keep the smile off your face for the rest of the night as they planned for announcing the shift in leadership to Hewn City. You had already bought your dress for the occasion, ready to make the shadowsinger eat his heart out. You even felt a bit vindicated as a certain male decided to spend the rest of his own night brooding in his shadows. 

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Azriel tossed and turned in his bed, unable to sleep. Both his mind and his shadows seemed to be in a permanent state of chaos ever since dinner. He couldn’t get the image of you smiling as Rhys read the Prince’s letter out of his mind. He had never considered the possibility of you leaving this court, had never thought Rhys would ever allow that. 

He threw his sheets off, standing up and prowling towards the floor length mirror in the corner of his room. His eyes fell on the skin above his hip, on the small tattoo of Illyrian wings with a sword going straight through the middle of them. 

He wished he could take truth-teller and slice that bit of skin right off his body. But even with its absence, the burden of it would never disappear. He let out a curse, pure rage racing through him. How could he have known things would turn out this way? How could he have known how much pain that tiny tattoo would eventually bring him?

His fist shot out, punching straight through the mirror. He was so angry he didn’t even feel the pain of the tiny shards of glass piercing his scarred flesh. Gods, this was all so fucked up. So incredibly fucked up. 

His heart pounded as he thought about how you had felt pressed against him that night on your balcony. How your scent had driven him crazy. How stunning you had looked under the moonlight in that tiny nightgown. The Princess of Night was an accurate title for you and all your beauty. 

He fell on his knees, the broken shards of glass crunching under his weight, letting the blood from his hand drip down on the floor. No pain would ever compare to the one he felt now. The pain of craving you. Craving the touch of your skin, the taste of your tongue, the moans he could drag from that pretty little mouth. 

And Gods, the way you had looked at him. He had almost caved. Had almost decided to burn it all to the ground for one chance to taste you, feel you, claim you. But he couldn’t. So he went back to doing what he always had–keeping you at a distance. It hurt to do so, even more so whenever he saw how much it hurt you, but it was better this way. You needed to move on, needed to look for love elsewhere. 

Life had always been unfair to him but this, this was quite possibly the worst of it. For he knew he would always yearn for you, crave you, love you—but only ever from a distance. Because for him, you…you had been made untouchable. 

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

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*If you asked to be added to the taglist and don't see your username, it's because it wouldn't let me tag you for some reason :(

[sprytesukii]

you know me (better than i know myself)

bakugou katsuki x reader

katsuki is hopelessly in love with his best friend until you waltz into his life and warp it beyond his recognition.

rating: mature, 18+, MDNI

wc : 10.4k (holy fuck)

tags : mild to heavy angst, fluff, eventual smut, hurt/comfort, gn!reader (they/them pronouns), afab!reader, unrequited love (not between reader and kats), depictions of mild depression, genderfluid!denki, queer!katsuki, reader has a quirk, oral (reader receiving), p-in-v intercourse, unprotected intercourse (wrap it b4 u tap it pls!), soft katsuki, and they were roommates :0, Not Beta Read, i think that’s it T^T

an: this is the first thing i’ve genuinely written in over a year and jesus it was like i was possessed writing it LMFAO incredibly self indulgent and i had a lot of fun writing it! i hope you guys enjoy it (pls rb n leave feedback pls pls pls)

read on ao3

the warm light of the coffee table lamp casts a beautiful shadow across the planes of eijirou’s face — his sharp, angular nose, smooth cheekbones, plush lips that form a sheepish smile — and katsuki can’t even appreciate it, not with the absolute bullshit that pours from his best friend’s lips.

“the fuck you mean, you’re moving out?”

the words come out a lot harsher than katsuki intends, but he can’t even bring himself to feel guilty, not even when kiri’s face screws up in clear disappointment.

“well, uh, i told you, this new place is closer to my agency so it makes more sense. the commute’ll be much shorter and, uh…” he trails off then, a pretty pink blush spreading across his nose, highlighting the small spattering of freckles that katsuki is certain he’s the only one who’s ever noticed, a broiling heat setting alight in his stomach.

he feels like he might die.

“and.. kaito finally asked me to move in with him.”

there it is. fuckin’ kaito.

katsuki is far from an idiot — people call him a lot of names (brash, inconsiderate, a righteous asshole), but never dumb. they couldn’t unless they were outright lying.

part of what makes katsuki so intelligent is his observance.

of course he’s noticed eijirou’s late nights, his suspicious absences at group get togethers, the sweet smiles he makes as he taps at his phone screen, the fucking hickies.

bakugou katsuki is not stupid. he’s incredibly observant. especially when it comes to the massive crush he’s been harboring on his best friend for the last three years.

he’s not entirely sure when his reluctant tolerance of the bright redhead shifted to something more but he knows he’s been viciously, painfully pining over him day in and day out in the weeks (months, years) since.

and it’s not like kirishima hasn’t had partners before. he’s nearly impossible to resist with his intense attentiveness, his willingness to go above and beyond for those close to him, not to mention his insane physique, built from long hours out on the field and in the gym.

it’s no wonder katsuki has been in love with him for as long as he has been — eijirou is perfect.

perfectly imperfect, of course. he gets upset when katsuki sorts his clothes for him (“i’m an adult, okay? it makes me feel like you’re parenting me, man.”) or when he lectures him on his diet, or when he shuts him out after being friends for so long (when his feelings become too much to handle), but eijirou’s the only one who’s stayed.

katsuki has tried flings and a few more serious relationships but those have ended quickly because he’s just too much.

too loud. too frustrating. too closed off. too him.

but not for eijirou. never for eijirou.

that’s why when kiri mentioned he was talking to this new guy, he brushed it off. it would be like all the others who would eventually break it off because of the long hours at work or eijirou’s boundless enthusiasm and katsuki would be there to pick the sopping wet, heartbroken kiri off the ground and put him back together. they didn’t deserve him anyway.

but this kaito? apparently katsuki’s eagerness to ignore eijirou’s flings made him blind to what was happening — eiji wasn’t his anymore.

he’s moving out.

he’ll be gone forever.

subconsciously, katsuki realizes he’s been silent for far too long and that eijirou’s face has lost the hurt and is now painted with concern and confusion.

fuck, even now, he’s concerned. he cares so so much, except in the way katsuki craves.

“uh,” kirishima’s gentle voice breaks him from his thoughts, a big hand finding its way to katsuki’s knee, “are you okay dude?”

the touch sears through the expensive black joggers katsuki is wearing and he flinches so hard, he jostles the coffee table to his side. he barely sees kirishima’s brows furrow as he launches himself to standing, the telltale burn behind his eyes signaling the incoming wave of tears.

he can’t see katsuki like this, he fucking can’t.

katsuki marches to the kitchen, opening up the fridge and blankly staring into it while he tries to will the water back into his face and still the turmoil burning in his chest.

it feels like he’s aflame, like he’s suffocating, drowning.

he can hear kirishima’s steps behind him but thankfully stopping a reasonable distance away as he calls his name again, desperation coloring the word.

fuck.

with everything he has in him, katsuki grabs a random bottle from the refrigerator (a smoothie eijirou made for him with far too much kale and too little milk and a little note attached with his name and a smiley face. he’s gonna be sick.) and turns to face him, a strained, shaky grimace painting his lips.

“that’s-“ his voice cracks hard and he desperately clears his throat, blinking hard when he sees eijirou reach out for him and stop. “that’s fuckin’— that’s great. ‘m happy for you.”

the words feel like glass inching their way out of his throat and while he knows he sounds anything but, the words seem to do the trick, kirishima’s face lighting up like a fucking christmas tree.

“that means so much to me, man!” this time, he doesn’t stop himself from wrapping katsuki up in a hug, the full body contact sending a wracking shiver through his body. “and don’t worry! we’ll still hang out all the time and i’ll — yes! — finally be able to introduce you to kaito — you’re gonna love him, and-“

katsuki has to tune him out, if just to keep a hold on his sanity because otherwise, he’s gonna break.

he keeps it together through the rest of the conversation about kaito, tuning in only to give time appropriate grunts and hums while pretending like his entire world isn’t imploding in on itself.

he keeps it together, miraculously, as kirishima packs up his things, the evidence of their entwined lives for the past five years disappearing into cardboard boxes over the span of a few weeks.

he even keeps it together when he meets kaito on the move out date, even if it’s just barely. kaito is handsome — tall, taller than katsuki, with windswept brown hair, bright brown eyes and a dimple in his left cheek. if he wasn’t so fucking in love with eiji, he wouldn’t mind taking a piece out of him, but as it were, the sight of kaito makes him genuinely sick to his stomach.

it’s even worse that kaito is so nice. his quirk is even nicer — some nature type that makes it impossible for plants to die when touched by him. they turn to him like he’s the fucking sun and eiji does too.

by the time all kirishima’s stuff is packed up in the back of kaito’s truck, bile is burning at the back of katsuki’s throat as he says his final goodbye to kiri in the way of a bone crushing hug that doesn’t last as long as he wishes, as he craves.

kiri sends him a blinding smile as he climbs into the passenger seat of the truck, looking all too at home against the worn blue leather seats.

it’s now when katsuki wishes he was a little less observant because the hand kaito gently places on kirishima’s thigh and the subsequent full body blush makes him sick.

he waits on the curb the appropriate amount of time as the pair drive away before racing back into his building, up the stairs, into his unit and straight to the bathroom, kneeling over the toilet and heaving, chills wracking his body despite the sweat on his brow.

nothing comes out (praise whoever above because katsuki hates vomiting) and he slumps against the porcelain, resting his heated skin against the toilet seat.

he thought… fuck, katsuki has no idea what he thought, but he didn’t expect it to hurt this bad. he feels a little like he’s dying and lot like he’ll never be okay again. that kirishima walked out with his heart and all he’ll be for the rest of his life is a walking husk of a human being.

a wave of nausea overtakes him again and he debates leaning back over the toilet, but exhaustion overwhelms him and he falls asleep against the wall of his bathroom, sweaty, sick, and heartbroken.

(the next morning, he wakes up to a pounding headache and two texts from eijirou.

he drinks a shit ton of water first and pops an advil before opening the messages.

EIJI (18:21) : just got to kaito’s! dude it’s so nice i can’t believe ill be living here now ><

katsuki has to take a deep breath to fight against the wave of pain that hits him right in the gut, but he keeps reading, the second text simultaneously warming him and twisting the knife.

EIJI (18:25) : i’m gonna miss you so much kats T^T so weird living without you

he stares at the message until his vision swims before liking the second message and turning off his phone, tossing it onto the couch and trudging to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.)

the next few weeks prove to be incredibly difficult.

a new case is brought to best jeanist’s desk and as the best sidekick at the agency, he’s placed in charge of heading the search and capture of an elusive invisibility quirk villain.

the days are long and exhausting, and more often than not, he doesn’t even have time to miss kirishima or notice his things missing from the apartment — he gets home, makes a barebones meal and collapses on the couch for what feels like a four hour nap until he has to turn back around and do it all over again.

it’s sustainable until it isn’t.

a few too many missed meals and restless hours of sleep has him passing out in a morning briefing, prompting best jeanist to send him home for a mandatory two week “vacation.”

it’s a prison sentence, is what it is.

at home, there’s nothing to distract him from the utter lack of kirishima, from the idea that the one person who has seen all of him and loved him anyway has left.

most days it’s too much to bear, so instead, he sleeps.

the usual tidiness of his space slowly deteriorates as he wastes away, waking only to scarf down whatever is left in his refrigerator before going right back to bed.

his friends text him often — hanta, denki, even fuckin’ hitoshi — but he ignores them all. the texts from kirishima are the hardest to delete, all concerned words and pleas for them to just talk, but he does it anyway.

it’s better this way, he tells himself. this way, no one else is dragged down by his self pity.

izuku ends up being the one to break the streak on day nine of radio silence.

a knock resounds at his door and he ignores it, pulling his blankets high above his mussed blonde hair, effectively hiding him from view as he hopes whoever is there spontaneously combusts or, better yet, just leaves.

when the knocks stop, he believes the latter has just occurred and he sighs in relief, completely missing the sound of metal creaking and his doorknob falling to the ground.

he’s debating on taking another melatonin to find the sweet release of sleep once more when his bedroom door opens up and he startles, launching up out of bed, hands and quirk at the ready to destroy the intruder, but he’s slow, too slow.

izuku is on him in a moment, pinning him to the bed and disregarding his gnashing teeth and cursing to look him over with a detached gaze.

“katsuki,” he says, voice firm in effectively shutting him up, despite the way he wriggles for freedom (so ineffectively, it’s embarrassing), “you look like dogshit.”

a harsh bark of laughter escapes katsuki’s throat and even from his angle where he’s pressed into his pillows, he sees izuku’s expression soften.

“you’ve lost your tact, deku,” he responds, his words gravelly from disuse. izuku scoffs but lets him up, taking a step over a pile of clothes on the ground to lean against the desk opposite of the bed.

with his newfound freedom, katsuki sits up, absentmindedly rubbing his now sore shoulder, the pain oddly grounding. izuku watches the motion with the intense focus he’s carried throughout his entire life, though he’s a far cry from the boy who used to break his bones and cry over injured birds.

now, he’s built like a brick house, forest green curls tapered into a flattering modern undercut, the fat from his cheeks transforming into something more chiseled and adult. his eyes aren’t as soft either — they’re tired and, as he looks at katsuki’s form, tinged with worry.

“where have you been? no one has heard from you in a week.”

katsuki rolls his eyes, looking away from the gaze that pins him, the gaze he tried so hard to get to look at him without fear. there isn’t a hint of fear in them now, but katsuki is afraid there’ll be disappointment and that’s almost worse.

“none of your fuckin’ business,” he grunts out and he immediately knows it was the wrong response. besides eijirou, izuku knows him the best and after all they’ve been through, he doesn’t deserve this.

he never deserved any of it.

with that thought spinning around in his head, katsuki rubs a hand over his face with a quiet curse, leaning back against the headboard.

“fuck, i’m sorry,” it comes out as a mutter, but its effect on izuku is instantaneous. the previous hardness of his expression melts and he moves closer, his bushy brows furrowing together. katsuki can barely look at him but he does anyway, he makes himself. izuku deserves that much (he deserves so much more but one day at a time).

“we’re just worried about you,” izuku says quietly but without pity. never pity. “what’s going on?”

maybe it’s the way izuku’s freckled face reminds him far too much of eijirou’s own spattering of constellations or maybe it’s the fact katsuki hasn’t eaten in over fifteen hours, but he shatters in that moment, crystal tears filling up carmine eyes.

if izuku is startled at katsuki’s sudden change of emotions, he doesn’t show it, instead moving to envelop katsuki in his arms, allowing him to bury his face in the crook of his shoulder and let go.

katsuki tells him everything and by the end of it, his head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton and his eyes are puffy and red, but he feels better than he did all week.

izuku just looks thoughtful from his place sitting near the end of katsuki’s bed, the pair parting somewhere in between katsuki’s admission of throwing up when seeing kaito and kirishima together and his accidental confession of stealing one of eijirou’s hoodies from one of the boxes (it sits right under his pillow, but izuku doesn’t need to know that).

“i’m really sorry, katsuki. that fucking sucks,” izuku ends up saying and katsuki’s initial reaction is anger. he spills his heart and guts out to izuku and all he gets is that sucks? but when he opens his mouth to give deku a piece of his mind, he realizes that it does suck. it sucks royal ass and there’s nothing he or izuku can do to fix it - at least not yet - but the acknowledgment, without any attempt to give advice or make everything better, does wonders for katsuki.

he pushes out a watery laugh, his lip ticking up into a smile - for the first time in weeks - and izuku lights up a little. “yeah. it really fuckin’ does.”

the smile izuku sends back is blinding and for the one thousandth time, katsuki is reminded why the symbol of peace is just that.

they talk for a little while longer before izuku forces katsuki into the shower. he takes a long time, letting the scalding hot water turn cold before he emerges to find that his childhood best friend has started cleaning up the mess that has become of his apartment.

katsuki watches on for a moment until izuku raises an eyebrow at him and offers him a trash bag which he takes wordlessly, a wave of affection crashing over him so quickly tears come to his eyes. he blinks them away but he doesn’t miss the knowing smile izuku sends his way.

the pair work together in relative silence until the apartment is spotless and katsuki’s stomach is grumbling something fierce. izuku makes his way to the fridge but is met with nothing but a half carton of eggs and a rotting smoothie in the far corner, a sticky note attached to the lid. he fixes katsuki with a small, sad smile before digging through his drawers for a takeout menu.

when the food arrives, katsuki finishes it in record time and he can’t tell if it’s the fact they remembered to make it extra spicy or if it’s because he literally can’t remember the last time he had an actual meal, but it’s the best thing he’s eaten in a long time.

after they finish, izuku turns on the television and they both spend the evening shit talking a d-list hero film until they fall asleep on the couch, bodies slumped against one another, holding each other up.

—

that night seems to have knocked something loose in katsuki because the next morning, he wakes with his first alarm and heads to the gym for the first time since his mandatory vacation. by the end of it, his arms are burning from quirk overuse and he’s completely wiped, but he feels more like himself than he has in ages.

he finally texts his friends back (barring one) and they greet him back with high levels of enthusiasm and concern. it feels good to be received back into the fold with the love he’d thought he’d lost, his cheeks hurting with how much he’s smiling as the messages roll in.

katsuki finishes out his sentence and goes back to work on the fourteenth day with an earnest apology to best jeanist and a new lead on the villain after pouring over the case files in between hyperintensive workouts at the gym. best jeanist is quietly impressed, but the squeeze to the shoulder he gives katsuki tells him he was more worried about him than he let on.

the next few weeks pass in a blur, but this time it’s more pleasant. he watches shitty movies with izuku, deletes instagram when he sees a photo of kaito and kirishima on holiday in america, starts attending a pottery class on the weekends he has off with mina and denki, continues to ignore the texts from eijirou that are becoming more and more infrequent as time goes on, smokes with hanta and shinsou one evening and laughs harder than he ever has, and life feels like it’s slowly gaining its footing once again.

he realizes three months after kirishima had moved out that he should probably start looking for a new roommate or downgrade to something more reasonable. he seriously considers the latter, but when he looks at the space he cultivated right after he graduated from ua, he realizes he can’t quite give the place up.

he posts an ad on craigslist that night.

the next time the group goes drinking (kirishima is suspiciously absent, despite his reentry into the country a few days prior — mina mentioned it), katsuki brings up his roommate problem and denki latches on, his cheeks pleasantly flushed from the wine he’s been sipping on.

“oh, oh! i know - i know the perrrrfeeccttt roommate for you,” he slurs, toying with the earring dangling from his ear and fixing his excited gaze on katsuki’s face. “they’re like.. the besttt, dude, you’d - you’d love them.”

the words are vague, but when katsuki opens up his mouth to ask for more details, denki’s eyes widen and he rushes off to the bathroom, a hand over his mouth, nearly tripping over the his platform shoes and maxi skirt.

the topic of the roommate is quickly forgotten then, but it resurfaces a few days later at pottery class.

katsuki is glaring holes into the side of his slightly lopsided vase on the pottery wheel, internally going through the steps to see where he went wrong. denki to the left of him laughs and chatters as he makes his, frankly, hideous ceramic, the clay warped beyond recognition.

something in his one-sided conversation brings his attention to katsuki who’s startled at the sound of his name coming from denki’s mouth.

“yo, you still looking for a roommate?” he asks, tilting his head as a strand of hair falls from the lengthening ponytail at the back of his head. without alcohol in his system, denki looks a little more hesitant to be approaching this topic, but does so when he isn’t met with a howitzer to the face.

the group doesn’t know much of anything, just that kirishima and katsuki aren’t talking, so they tend to tread lightly around the subject. katsuki appreciates it, genuinely, but he’s not going to shatter at the sound of eijirou’s name - not anymore. it hurts still, of course, but the pain has dulled to a steady hum that he can ignore if he tries hard enough.

“yeah,” he grunts, turning his eyes back at his vase. “why? you got someone in mind?”

denki grins, showing off the lightning tooth gems on his canine. “hell yeah! i’ll give you their number — they teach the watercolor class here on tuesdays and they’re so cool.”

he speaks about you with obvious adoration and katsuki belatedly wonders if the two of you are dating, but doesn’t voice this curiousity, instead wordlessly handing denki his phone to put in your contact as “ROOMIE” with what feels like a hundred paint emojis after it. katsuki smiles at his friend’s antics and can’t quite bring himself to change it.

the colorful contact remains untouched for about another week until he gets a rent notice and remembers the little paint palettes in his phone.

in the middle of his morning workout, he taps out a quick text to you, before tossing his phone to the side and promptly forgetting about it.

katsuki [09:27] : Hey. I’m Bakugou. Denki gave me your number. I’m looking for a roommate. You interested?

ROOMIE [10:16] : oh hey yeah i’m interested

ROOMIE [10:17] : do you want 2 meet td

ROOMIE [10:17] : i’m at the cafe on 5th n cherry

ROOMIE [10:17] : in the back

ROOMIE [10:19] : i’ll b here 4 a while

ROOMIE [10:19] : just come whenever

katsuki only sees the message at the end of his workout a half hour later. the number of messages in a row and less than ideal grammar makes him turn up his nose but he quickly taps out an affirmative, before dapping izuku up and heading to the showers.

he makes it to the cafe twenty minutes later, scanning the place to see what he assumes is you tucked away in the back corner, your table full with books, papers, paints, your laptop and at least four empty cups of coffee.

katsuki raises an eyebrow at the sight but walks over anyway, telling himself he’s doing denki a favor by meeting someone he thinks so highly of so he won’t feel too bad when he tells him it’s not going to work out.

you don’t look up when he stops at your table, too occupied with the piece of art in front of you, your face twisted up in intense concentration.

you’re quite pretty, he notes subconsciously, the hard set of your eyes and one track focus reminding him an awful lot of himself when he’s swept into a difficult case. your complete unawareness gives him more time to take you in, though, so he can’t even bring himself to be too annoyed.

you’re wearing a bright yellow chargebolt hoodie that clashes terribly with your garishly pink acid queen baggy sweatpants. a pair of cellophane socks cover your feet where they’re stretched out in the seat across from you and your shoes (made to look like the red ones from deku’s costume, jesus christ) sit haphazardly beneath the table, empty.

it’s such a bizarre sight, katsuki almost laughs — almost — but he doesn’t, instead opting to knock your feet off the chair opposite you so he can sit down.

“a big fan of heroes, huh?” he asks, the action coupled with his words startling you so bad, your knees hit the underside of the table, threatening to upend all the precariously balanced objects decorating the surface.

you look angry at first before you realize who it is and once you do, you just look relieved. it’s an unusual reaction, one katsuki rarely gets from anyone who isn’t actively in danger, especially strangers.

“you scared the absolute shit out of me,” you say tiredly, rubbing a hand over your face and sighing. katsuki watches you recognize your own impoliteness in real time, a sheepish smile spreading across your lips.

pretty.

“fuck, sorry,” you extend a paint splotched hand to him and he takes it, shaking it firmly before it falls back to his side, fingers tingling. “i get super into shit and completely forget where i am. kami gets onto me about it all the time. says i’m prime villain bait or some shit. i think he’s saying it most of the time to freak me out, but he might actually be right. don’t ever tell him i said that though.”

katsuki can’t help but stare at you as you ramble at him with the familiarity of someone who’s known him for months, not just a few minutes. it’s uncomfortable in a strangely nice way and he can feel his muscles loosen as the nerves melt away.

“aw fuck, i’m sorry again. i didn’t introduce myself.”

you give him your name, offering your hand out for him to shake once more which he does with an amused look painting his expression. you don’t seem to notice, your attention being grabbed by the piece in front of you again.

“i’m bakugou,” he offers after a moment of silence. you don’t even look up when you respond.

“i know. you sent me that text, remember? also you’re like, super fucking famous, dynamight,” you look up at him through your lashes, teasing, and heat unexpectedly blooms on the back of his neck.

what the fuck?

in a bid to gain back control of the conversation (and himself) katsuki asks, “what’re you workin’ on? dunceface said you’re a painter or some shit.”

your nose crinkles at the moniker, but you don’t say anything about it, instead turning the sketchbook around for katsuki to look at it.

the piece is stunning, but it’s visceral and he can’t help but lean back a little when looking at it, stomach dropping.

a deer lays on the ground, gutted, blood, guts and viscera pouring out of its abdomen as a figure just out of frame reaches inside and pulls out its heart.

katsuki is disgusted but intrigued and that feeling only amplifies when you press a finger to the painting and activate your quirk.

suddenly, the hand in the painting moves so realistically he flinches — he can hear the deer’s heart beat, can hear the way the blood trickles through the blades of grass, can smell the coppery tang and can feel the rush of spring wind blowing past his face.

it’s like he’s there, in the piece, and he feels both a little sick and also so alive.

“holy fuck,” he whispers, shivering, and you laugh, deactivating your quirk, bringing him back to the real world. the sounds of the cafe flood in, replacing the smell of blood and spring fields with coffee and loose tea leaves. he shakes his head, eyes a little blown when they look at you.

your expression is playfully amused as you bring your sketchbook closer to your person, resting your head on the palm of your hand.

“sorry,” you offer, but you don’t sound very sorry at all, “should’ve asked before i used my quirk on you. not everyone likes that shit.”

the words are so nonchalant but you look like you’re poised to watch him get up and leave, never looking back. katsuki doesn’t think he could leave if he tried.

“nah,” his voice feels raw so he tries to clear it but the feeling doesn’t go away. “you’re good. just surprised me, ‘s all.”

your mouth parts in muted surprise and you tilt your head, appraising him like you’re seeing him for the first time. katsuki feels surprisingly bare as you study him, but he doesn’t drop his eye contact, despite the heavy pounding of his heart from your intensity.

the pair of you sit in silence like that for a moment or two longer before you break it, asking him if he wants something to drink. before he can tell you he doesn’t drink coffee though, you flag down the waiter, ask for a hot cup of tea (“darjeeling or oolong,” you ask the waiter, not even sparing katsuki another glance, “he doesn’t look like he fucks with green tea.” it’s true. he doesn’t. his heart does a stutter step in his chest.) and when it arrives to the table, katsuki asks you to move in with him.

you agree.

—

the move in process is so quick and easy that when it’s done, it feels like you’ve been living there for years.

your belongings integrate seamlessly into his own. your books about art history and watercolor technique find their way onto his bookshelves filled with classic japanese literature and hero history.

(he comes home one day to see you propped up on the couch with a thick book on the origin of quirks and heroism in japan that you stole borrowed from his collection. he just cocks his head at you when you meet his gaze and you shrug.

“i’m not japanese, i don’t know any of this shit,” you say in way of an explanation. “besides, this is important to you. i wanna learn.”

you turn back to your book like you didn’t just completely shake the foundation of katsuki’s world for a moment and he stumbles off to the kitchen, heat burning at the tips of his ears.)

your plants find their way on every windowsill and while, once upon a time, it would’ve made him think of kaito and that sick, curling jealousy would wrap around his chest and squeeze, now? it just makes him think of you.

(it helps you can’t really keep them alive so nearly every other week the two of you are replanting something new in the pots and vases katsuki makes in pottery class.)

your favorite foods join his in the refrigerator and the two of you take your meals together more often than not. katsuki cooks and you clean, either eating on the couch while watching a documentary or at the dining room table as you talk and talk and talk.

(the first time katsuki misses dinner, you wait up for him, even forgoing your own meal to eat with him when he returns at 2 in the morning.

“don’t do that shit again,” he grumbles when he finds out what you’ve done, his scarlet eyes piercing your own. you shrug, unafraid, tired eyes trailing lazily over his tank top clad form.

“don’t tell me what to do,” you retort after a moment, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of your lips, “i like eating with you.”

your honesty, unabashed and loud, always bowls him over and he has to take a sip of his ice water to feel steady again.)

the relationship between the two of you is easy, for once, and katsuki finds himself looking forward to coming home, to you and your witty comments, sharp intelligence, and your uncanny ability to see right through him.

he swears it must be a hidden quirk, the way you seem to just know — know what he wants and needs without even asking and your accuracy rate is pretty much unbeatable.

after a particularly bad mission where the property damage is unusually high and the civilian casualties match, the leading hero news journalist puts out a scathing piece about him, sending him into an emotional spiral.

you find him that afternoon, curled up in bed, staring at the window blankly. you crawl up in bed beside him and you don’t speak, don’t offer him coddling words of “everything’s gonna be okay,” or “you did the best you could,” because if that was katuski’s best, he doesn’t fucking deserve to be a hero. not at all.

but no, you don’t offer him empty words of placation. instead, you brush a lock of his hair off of his forehead and look at him with that all-seeing gaze, your expression neither soft nor hard, but understanding.

“you’re not gonna let that shit happen again, right?” you ask, tilting your head. katsuki shakes his head vehemently, the mere notion of the same amount of dead bodies on his watch sending a fire through his chest as he sits up.

“fuck no.”

“good. now come here, i painted something new and i need to see if i get ‘good job’ or ‘holy fuck that’s shitty’ eyebrows from you.”

and that’s that.

you’ve even given him a nickname and it inexplicably makes his skin feel tight, like he needs to tear it off and show you, like it’s a display of how you make him feel.

it’s a lazy sunday afternoon, one he’s required to take off by best jeanist, and he’s spent it next to you on the couch, listening to a few of your records while you paint a forest scene, a skittish doe front and center with rivulets of water streaming from beneath it.

occasionally, you’ll activate your quirk and katsuki can suddenly hear birds chirping and the creak of the wood before he’s back in your cramped flat, the sounds of city sounding below.

it’s jarring and yet, comforting, both your presence and the quirk, in a way that still doesn’t make sense to him yet.

“bambi, are you even listening to me?” the term of what he assumes is endearment startles him out of his thoughts and he eyes dart to yours, an amused expression on your your brow.

“who the fuck are you callin’ bambi?” in his shock, he can hardly conjure up the ability to sound pissed, confusion instead hijacking his words, making them come out soft and gruff.

“you, idiot,” you reply, like it makes all the sense in the world. “you’re like a deer to me. something in you is skittish, afraid and yet, you’re still so beautiful.”

what the fuck.

katsuki’s breath completely evaporates from his lungs and he feels like he’s going to pass out at your frank words. it doesn’t help that you don’t break eye contact or look embarrassed to have said something so, so… intimate.

he can’t even begin to parse through how to respond to something like that, but you know that too, flicking a little bit of paint water at him with the tip of your brush. he sees the olive branch for what it is and he grabs it with both hands, the annoyed sound rising from his throat on autopilot as you laugh, but your eyes are still so knowing.

he thinks about that day everyday after with sickening butterflies flapping around in his stomach and those only magnify when you choose to call him the new nickname every single chance you get.

katsuki would not dream of stopping you.

—

it’s about two months into you moving in with him and he’s going out drinking with the squad. he’s invited you about thirty times but every time you decline, citing that you’re behind on grading art projects and that show you were looking forward to is airing tonight.

(you’re a substitute art teacher at the local elementary school, a fact that genuinely shocked katsuki when he found out.

you’d laughed, wide and unapologetic at his reaction.

“i know i’ve got quite the potty mouth but i clean it up for the kids,” you say, eyes twinkling. “they kinda love me, i think, but it might just be the bob ross videos i put on for them every friday.”)

katsuki chooses not to push but he knows that he’ll end up cutting the night short, just so he can sprawl next to you on the couch and watch you paint.

you seem to know it too (how?? secret quirk, it must be) if the knowing look you give him isn’t enough as he goes to change.

when he returns to the living room, he’s clad in a nice black button down that’s unbuttoned enough to show off the strong planes of his chest and his thin gold chain, and a pair of black jeans that fit him and his tiny waist incredibly well.

katsuki knows he looks good in this outfit, but he finds himself uncharacteristically nervous as he stands in front of you, your eyes dragging down his body as slow as molasses, igniting the skin as though it was a physical touch.

your eyes meet his once again, molten and hot, and katsuki’s knees nearly buckle at the sight. he’s never seen you look like that - not at him, not at anyone, and he finds that he quite likes to be the center of your attention in this way.

“you clean up nicely, bambi,” you murmur, your voice a lower timber in comparison to your normal speech.

the blush spreads immediately to all visible parts of his body and he can fucking see you holding back a grin. “fuck off,” is all he can say before he spins on his heel, grabs his keys, and marches out the door.

it takes everything in him to continue walking, out and up to the train station and then to the bar, because all he wants to do is turn right back around, back to your home and back to that lava-like gaze you pinned him with earlier.

it’s you that’s racing around in his mind when he pushes the door open to the bar, but all thoughts come to a complete, grinding halt when he sees kirishima at their usual table, surrounded by all their friends and grinning like he’d never left.

he looks different - after all, it’s been about a year since katsuki had seen him last. his hair is longer and his roots are grown out, his skin has taken on such a warm glow and it, impossibly, seems like he’s gotten even bigger somehow.

it’s also impossible to miss the black band on his ring finger signaling a new engagement ring which he figures is what they’re meant to be celebrating tonight, eyes belatedly catching on the comically tiny “i’m engaged!” sash hanging around his chest.

the sight of kirishima sends the most heinous bolt of anxiety through katsuki and now he really just wants to call you to come get him and take him home, to make him forget all about his unrequited love. he moves backwards to do just that, but he’s already been spotted by kirishima himself.

fuck.

katsuki is frozen as kirishima’s happy expression falters when he meets his eyes, cycling through shock, disbelief, stark hurt and then utter relief.

he can see the way kiri’s mouth forms “katsuki” from a distance as he puts down his drink and moves towards him, his feet completely frozen until they’re standing face to face (face to chest, really) for the first time in months.

“hey,” kirishima says, hesitantly, breathlessly, as his hands flutter uselessly at his sides, like he wants to just pick katsuki up but is stopping himself. “can we, uh, can we go outside and talk?”

katsuki just nods because what else is supposed to do? and as they move out, he catches the worried gazes of their friends watching the pair of them from the table. denki and izuku, the latter of whom knows the most (everything) and the former who managed to figure most of it out on his own.

(“takes one to know one,” he’d said, bitterly when he’d confronted katsuki a few weeks ago about his unexplained mandatory leave all those months ago. katsuki was confused until kaminari flipped around his phone to reveal a photo of him and hanta pressed tightly together in an embrace that was strictly platonic and yet, horribly intimate.

katsuki’s lips drew together into a tight line as he settled against the brick wall kami was leaning against, trying to light the cigarette hanging loosely from his lips.

“you’re too good for plain face,” he says after a moment, attempting to channel his inner you, blunt and honest. “you’re gonna find someone better.” and just like all his thoughts as of recently, they’d flitted right back to you.

denki had watched his face carefully, cigarette unlit, a thoughtful look crossing his own expression.

“yeah,” he concedes, “i will, won’t i?”)

katsuki gives the pair of them a nod, holding up a hand to izuku who looks like he wants to follow them out of the bar, despite the pounding in his chest and the way he suddenly feels unsteady on his feet as they leave the building to step right back out into the cool, fall air.

kirishima’s stance is awkward and since neither of them smoke, they both just stand there, barely looking at each other and waiting for the other person to speak up first.

“fuckin’ hell- what’d you wanna talk about kirishima?” katsuki grits out, tired of the waiting game and suddenly, immediately, so exhausted. all he wants to do is be curled up beside you, with your all seeing eyes and gentle utterances of “bambi” in his ear.

the tact he’d lost in his haste to get this over with stings kirishima whose brows furrow in annoyance. “what do i want to talk about? i haven’t seen you in a year, bakugou, not since i moved out and you completely cut me off with no explanation whatsoever. i want to know why. what - what did i do wrong?”

his voice breaks on the last word and it sounds so sad, so uncharacteristically eijirou, that katsuki flinches, finally looking over at kirishima to see a broken, pleading man who lost his best friend for nothing more than silly, stupid feelings.

at once, katsuki feels all the fucking idiot asshole he is and it’s staggering how much that thought makes him feel like shit. he could’ve reached out, he could’ve, but he was so worried that he wouldn’t have been able to keep it together, spending time with kiri, and as time passed, the issue became that so much time had passed and he had no idea how to navigate this all over again.

he runs a hand over his face, leaning against the brick facade of the bar. “fuck,” he whispers, gravel crunching underfoot as kiri steps closer.

“i - i miss you, kats,” kiri’s voice comes out quiet and thick, “i got engaged and all i wanted to do was call you, but you weren’t there, you weren’t speaking to me and i-“ he takes a shuddering breath and katsuki’s eyes fill with tears.

“i was in love with you.”

the sounds of the street fade out as katsuki finally turns to look at kirishima, the tears falling down his cheeks.

“wha- bakugou, what?”

“i was in love with you and i couldn’t fuckin’ - i couldn’t do it. not to myself, not to you.”

kirishima face is drawn, pale and mouth gaping. his mouth closes, then opens again, then snaps shut, his head shaking in disbelief.

“why didn’t you - fuck - why didn’t you ever say anything, man?”

katsuki scoffs, the sound wet with grief. “are you shittin’ me? why the hell would i do that?”

kiri shrugs, long, dark lashes sweeping his cheekbones, leaving tiny wet marks. a year ago, the sight would’ve filled katsuki with rabid butterflies, but now it remains just an observation, one made passively and without thinking.

“i should’ve told you somethin’, i fuckin’ know that now, but i was - i was scared. scared of you hating me, scared of losing you. but i went and fucked that one up anyway, so,” katsuki laughs, self deprecating, and kirishima shakes his head vehemently, grabbing him by the shoulder and pulling him into a tight hug.

katsuki’s throat is tight as he gives into the embrace, burying his face into kirishima’s shoulder.

“you haven’t lost me, kats, and you never will,” kirishima whispers, pulling apart far enough to press his forehead to katsuki’s, red eyes meeting red. “i mean, who else is gonna be my best man?”

katsuki’s eyes widen and he takes a step back. “don’t fuck with me.”

kirishima shakes his head, a wet laugh escaping his lips. “not fucking with you bro. you’re my best friend. i want you there beside me on the happiest day of my life.”

after everything, after the year of no contact and the absolutely shitty way katsuki treated him, kirishima still wants katsuki by his side?

he’s honored, he’s out of his depth, he’s fucking nauseous, and he really wants to go home and tell you.

“i met someone,” he blurts and kirishima looks startled at the change of subject, but takes it in stride, a smile tugging at his face.

“that’s so great, dude, congrats! what’s their name?”

katsuki breathes it out and when he does, he realizes something, the force of it hitting him like a steel beam to the head.

“i think i’m in love with them.”

kirishima blinks, taking in katsuki’s tense form. he looks like he’s about to run away.

“i’m so happy for you, kats. really, i am,” kiri says, before being taken off guard yet again by the hug katsuki initiates.

“of course i’ll be your best man, shitty hair. i fuckin’ missed you too,” he murmurs and he hears kirishima sniffle. “i gotta go but text me and we’ll get lunch tomorrow or some shit, okay? i’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

he pulls away to see eijirou’s big wet eyes stare down at him with unabashed care and love, and katsuki feels his heart swell.

he got his best friend back and now it’s time to get you.

kirishima agrees to the meetup wholeheartedly and lets katsuki go with a hearty pat on the back and a shouted “good luck!” over the sound of the rain that started up during the last moments of conversation before going back inside the bar.

katsuki considers blasting his way to you, but he knows the optics would be incredibly unfavorable and his pr department would have his head, so he races to the train station instead and hops aboard, his mind racing with thoughts of you.

his hair is plastered to his forehead with rain by the time he gets to his apartment building and the button up is molded to his body like a second skin. he’s uncomfortable, of course, but he hardly pays it any mind because before he knows it, he’s unlocking and pushing open the door to your shared flat.

he’s home.

you startle from your place upside down on the couch, your paints and sketchbook cluttering the coffee table at the side while the tv plays an ancient looking cooking show quietly.

katsuki is bowled over by the sight, the weight of what he now knows as love sending him stumbling a little on his feet. he has to hold onto the doorjamb to keep his footing.

you sit up, observing, and you tilt your head. “you’re back early,” you comment, curiosity lacing your words.

he nods, not trusting his voice as finally steps past the threshold, kicking off his shoes and putting on a pair of hideous hawks themed slippers that you’d bought for him on your own birthday.

you hum thoughtfully before standing and disappearing down the hallway, katsuki’s eyes glued to you as you go. he can hear the sounds of you rummaging around in the bathroom, his feet frozen to the floor when you return, a fluffy towel in hand.

“you should shower, of course,” you say with a grin, opening up the towel and draping it over his head to dry it before moving on to the rest of his sopping body. “but i figured i’d keep you from dripping all over that ugly rug you’re obsessed with.”

katsuki doesn’t respond, can’t, and you don’t push or question, instead diligently wiping him down until he’s marginally more dry, eg, not actively dripping on the hardwood.

you move to go dispose of the towel and katsuki’s hand shoots out, not of his own volition, to hold you in place. it’s here he notices how close you’ve been standing to him, your breath wafting over his collarbones.

“bambi?” you question, unafraid of him, just lightly confused, but you don’t move away from him, somehow picking up his need for closeness without him saying anything, and he snaps.

“i love you,” he whispers, the explosion in his chest coming out in just those three gruff words, his carmine eyes boring into your own with an intensity you match.

a small smile spreads over your lips and your eyes light up, joy thrumming over your skin. “i love you too, katsuki.”

it’s perfect and katsuki can’t stop himself from cupping your face and pressing your lips together.

the kiss is gentle and chaste, your hands dropping the towel, coming up to rest on his forearms and holding him in place as you move your lips softly against his own.

katsuki feels like the rest of the world could implode right now, could be on fire or flooding or being overrun by villains and none of it would matter, not a single fucking thing because you’re in his arms and you’re kissing him back and you love him.

these thoughts ignite a hunger in him, a flame stoking in his belly, and he pushes further into the kiss, his hands sliding from their place on your face. one cups the back of your neck while the other slides down your back, pressing you firmly against the front of his body.

he’s almost giddy, having you like this, and he’s sure you can feel it because you’re smiling into the kiss like this is the happiest day of your life.

he thinks it’s his.

you continue trading kisses like this in your foyer, but it only escalates when your tongue flickers across katsuki’s bottom lip and you sigh softly, back arching against him.

katsuki has to break apart from you so he doesn’t consume you in that moment, but you don’t go far (you never do), your foreheads pressed together while you breathe in each others air.

“fuckin’ hell,” he chokes out and you laugh. “can i please - fuck - i need you.”

his honesty shuts you up quick and you nod, biting your lip. “take me to bed, bambi.”

and that he does.

katsuki’s hand finds yours and he pulls you towards his bedroom — you’ve been in there countless times, to watch movies, to nap, to read with one another, but of course, it was never like this.

the tension is thick but it’s not uncomfortable at all. you walk over to his bed and plop down on it like you’ve been in this situation a thousand times. the action soothes any residual anxiety katsuki might’ve had as he walks over to you, your heated gaze tracking his movements the entire time.

“take this shit off,” he grumbles, tugging at the garish all might crewneck covering your abdomen and you swat his hand away with an amused look.

he can feel his pout forming at your smile, but you just shake your head. “don’t tell me what to do, bambi,” but still, you raise grip the bottom of the thick fabric, lifting it up and over your head before letting it drop to the ground, leaving you bare.

or almost bare, if not for the objectively hideous, brightly colored, thin, cheap and lacey dynamight themed underwear covering your body.

“what the fuck is this?” katsuki doesn’t mean for his question to come out so reverent, but seeing you clad in his colors sends a bolt of heat down his spine so strong, he’s quite literally never been harder in his life.

you don’t seem to notice (but you always do), tilting your head at him with a grin playing on your lips. “they were on sale. didn’t think you’d ever see them.”

katsuki’s brows furrow at that, his hands tightening from their place on your hips. “who the fuck else was going to?”

you shake your head, like there’s something he isn’t getting. “no one. it’s always been you.”

“fuckin’-“ katsuki surges for you, claiming your lips with his with an urgency that had previously been lost. you respond in kind and this time, you’re letting out all these quiet gasps and sighs, writhing beneath him. he has to see you fall apart.

he reluctantly detaches his face from yours, kissing down your neck and sucking marks into the thin skin there, one of your hands sliding up to tangle into his hair, keeping him close.

a moan escapes him at the feeling of your fingers on his scalp, nearly getting lost in the mindless action, but he has to keep going. he makes it to your chest, laving his tongue over one of your nipples, flicking the hardened bud with the tip.

“f-fuck, bambi,” you outright moan and katsuki has to grind down against the mattress, his free hand sliding to pinch and pull at your other nipple.

your body can’t figure out whether to arch towards or away from his ministrations, which katsuki takes special delight in. you’re always so in control of yourself, even when you’re not, so it’s beyond rewarding to be responsible for your destruction.

“bambi - fuck - ‘suki, fuck me,” you groan and katsuki’s eyes roll back before he pulls off your nipple with a pop, his lips red and slick.

“nah.”

“nah?” you parrot, leaning up on your elbows with the closest thing he’s seen to annoyance directed at him written all over your face.

“nah. ‘m gonna make you come first.” katsuki grins, feral, and you shudder.

“get to it then, hero.” the moniker, while meant to be sarcastic and biting, just makes katsuki moan, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your (dynamight !!) underwear and tossing them to the floor.

he leans in, propping up one of your legs over his shoulder to bury his nose in the crease between hip and thigh, inhaling deeply. you smell sharp and tangy and so you that he couldn’t stop himself from taking a lick, entrance to clit, if he tried.

you sigh at that first touch of his wet muscle, melting in the bed while one hand remains buried in his hair and the other splays above your head. you watch him move with that intense look and you don’t look away so he doesn’t either.

he doesn’t look away as he slurps loudly at your entrance, tasting the wetness that’s gathered there with a pleased hum. doesn’t look away as he swirls his tongue around your clit, pulling a sharp gasp from your chest. doesn’t look away as he picks up pace, swirling, flicking and sucking until you’re chanting his name and “bambi,” your body tensing up as you buck your hips up into his face. doesn’t look away when you cum hard, soaking his lips and chin to which he eagerly groans, slurping up all you have to offer.

you pull him up to stop him from licking you through your aftershocks, kissing him hard once he gets to eye level.

“please,” you beg, eyes wide and urgent. who is he to deny you or himself?

katsuki stands and shucks off his boxers in record time, wrapping a hand around his cock that’s hard and leaking, the tip bright red.

your eyes eat him up hungrily, lingering on the way his precum spills over his knuckles with every slow stroke.

“i’m gonna suck your pretty cock tomorrow, preferably before breakfast,” you comment breathlessly. katsuki has to wrap his fingers around the base of his cock to keep himself from coming in that moment, taking a deep breath and glaring at you when you giggle.

“condom?” you shake your head, leaning back and spreading your legs to show off the wet mess he’s made of you.

“‘m clean and i’m in love with you. fuck me. now.” you can’t even sound commanding, not with the whine lying beneath your words, giving away how bad you want him. how bad you want this.

if the way katsuki’s cock legitimately jumped at your words is anything to go by, he obviously feels the same.

“goddamit, can’t fuckin’ say shit like that to me, jesus,” he rambles, crawling back onto the bed and notching the fat head of his dick into your entrance before leaning down to kiss you, open mouthed and messy.

he pushes into you when your tongue is halfway down his throat and he nearly chokes on it. you’re so soft and wet and velvety — he’s gonna cum so fucking fast, holy shit.

of course, you know it too, know him like the back of your hand because you squeeze even tighter around him and slide your hand down between your bodies to rub frantically at your clit.

“you - oh, god, you feel so fucking good bambi, fucking me so well, always taking care of me,” your words slur together as your eyes roll back, his hips slamming into yours at a quick pace.

he wants you to cum first, wants it more than anything, but the dirty talk coupled with the way you feel clenching around him has him shooting off faster than he expected, a low, long whine leaving him.

his hips stutter against yours and fireworks go off behind his eyelids. it feels like he’s coming forever as he humps into you and that feeling is only prolonged by you coming around him, your cunt clenching so tightly, you force him out, his spend spreading all over your mons and pelvis with a choked groan.

after another long moment, he slumps against you, exhausted and happier than he’s ever been.

you hum contentedly, wrapping your arm around him to pull him half on top of you, your body succumbing to the tiredness that’s so quickly overtaken you.

“i love you, katsuki,” you whisper, the phrase thick with sleep and emotion. katsuki feels burning at the backs of his eyes so he buries his face in the crook of your neck to hide, kissing your shoulder when the words don’t come.

you know, though. you always do.

—

“fuck, bambi, we’re gonna be late!” you screech from your (now) shared room, the sound muffled from where your head is buried in the closet.

by the door, katsuki is trying (and failing) to tie his bow tie, the red fabric remaining uncooperative in his hands. he groans in frustration, raising a hand to run it through his hair but stopping short when he remembers how you painstakingly fixed it for him a few hours ago.

“i know! it’s this stupid fuckin’ tie!” he shouts back, staring at himself in the little mirror you purchased, smiling a little despite himself when he remembers that trip to the home decor store with you, picking out new items that represent the both of you for your apartment.

speak of the devil, you step up behind him, looking gorgeous in a red, floor length dress, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“you look really good bambi,” you grin, fingers dragging down his abdomen to rest on his waistband, but his hands stop your downward motion while he gives you a halfhearted glare through the reflection.

“don’t start that shit,” katsuki turns around in your hold to face you, your hands immediately finding his undone tie. you work efficiently, face so scrunched up and focused that katsuki can only lift your face to press a kiss to your lips.

you melt, kissing him back easily and when you pull away, his lips are tinged with your lip products, marked by you. “you have a little something…” you trail off, wiping it away, not realizing how he stares at you like you’re the sun and he has no other choice but to revolve around you.

“marry me,” katsuki blurts, heat burning at the tips of his ears after a moment of you looking at him in utter disbelief.

he worries for a split second that you’re going to say no, but then your face splits into the most blinding smile he’s ever seen.

“are you proposing to me right now, bakugou katsuki?” you tease, fingers toying with the tie around his neck.

he nods, his hands finding your waist as he pulls you closer to him. “so what if i am?”

you laugh and nod, tears filling your lash line as the lighthearted facade drops to reveal you, earnest and honest and so so in love with him.

katsuki has no idea how he got so lucky, what he did in a past life to have you in his life and agreeing to be with him, in his life forever.

“of fucking course, i’ll marry you,” you say, grabbing his face and kissing him hard. “and i want nothing more than to make love to you on our brand new ikea sofa, but if we’re late to kiri’s wedding, he’s gonna kill me and make you watch.”

even the empty threat you make through your happy tears centers you in katsuki’s life, like you know that you are the center of his world, of his entire universe. you always know, know him better than he knows himself and there isn’t anyone on this whole earth who he’d rather be with than you.

he doesn’t tell you any of this though, blinking back tears instead and agreeing with a laugh, before finally ushering the pair of you out the door.

the thing is, katsuki doesn’t have to tell you.

you already know.

[horrorsequel]

Man I haven't watched The Young Ones in so long but I clicked on a link to an episode and as soon as the theme song started playing I felt over the moon.

2 thoughts I had -

1) the way vyvyan interacts with Mike is honestly my favorite dynamic on the show.

2) I feel like... idk if it's fair to say, but at least back in like 2014/2015 I was a Recognizable Name in the TYO fanfic crowd and I'm not sure if people still read my fics but for a glorious little while I was The Neil Guy

[huhniebowl]

hi!!!! could you possibly do something where the reader and dom are on a podcast together?? i think that would be super fun☺️☺️

anon, this is probably the funniest request i've ever worked on oh my god.😭 i had so much fun writing this! thank you for sending it in!

this is heavily inspired by the drake podcast with bobbi. i also read a few of dom's interviews, so a good bit of the dialogue is based on some things he's actually said.

this is dialogue heavy just so you all know! hope you love it!

¥

You move the mic stand that your crew set up, so it’s level with your face, and adjust yourself under the blankets of your guest star's bed. 

“Okay, tell me when,” Dominic says. He’s holding the clapperboard, and watching your crew for his signal. 

“Marking.” He says into the mic, then snaps the take. He grins, while one of the crew members come to take the clapperboard. “Ah, bet you didn’t think I knew about that huh?” 

It’s episode seven of your podcast, and you somehow managed to get Dominic Fike as your guest. You’ve been a fan of his for years, and have followed him through his ups and downs of fame, fortune, and misfortune.

You’re a little shocked at how well you’re keeping your composure by being able to have your favorite artist featured on your show, but you're thankful for it. 

“Hello everyone, welcome to episode seven of I’m Not in Your Bed, and today I’m here with.” 

You look over at Dominic, and he leans into his mic.

“Dominic Fike. How are you guys today.”

“Are you talking to me or the viewers?” 

“The viewers.” 

“This isn’t live though, so you won’t get to know their responses.” You turn on your side so you're facing Dom, and move your mic in front of you. 

“Well yeah, but, isn’t that like proper podcast etiquette or some shit.” He starts to trail off towards the end and he looks at the staff. You hear a few of them chuckle, and you almost do too, but you can’t break character. 

“Who taught you that?” 

“Well, I just sort of.” He pauses for a moment, “Fuck you.” There’s no bite to it, and the staff laughs out. 

"You think Drake is watching this?" He asks, fixing the glasses on his face.

"Maybe, he was my episode four."

"Were you in his bed too?"

"Yeah, I was."

"Fuckin’ cheater dude." That earns him a few laughs behind the camera.

“How does it feel having a stranger in your bed?” You ask. Dominic tilts his head in thought. 

“Well, it’s not too weird. I used to have random women in here all the time.” 

He then grabs hold of the mic and stares dead into the camera. “Not anymore though. Completely abstinent. Not fucking. Stop having sex. I’m talking to you. The one watching me say this while probably planning on having sex later.” You stare at him and press your lips together, letting the silence after his proclamation linger in the air. 

“And how’s that been going for you?” 

“You know, it’s been well. I’ve stopped a lot of crazy shit recently. Stopped smoking, stopped drugs. Stopped drinking more than 4 cups of coffee a day.” 

“How do you like your coffee.” 

“Black. I hate that creamer shit.” 

“You know it’s reported that some of the most known serial killers drank their coffee black and were Capricorns?” Dom’s eyebrows raise. 

“Oh fuck, really?” 

“No, I made it up. But you feel a little crazy now don’t you?” Dominic drops his head and starts laughing, the staff right along with him. 

“What’s your sign?” He asks once he gathers himself. 

“Cancer.” 

“Ah, that makes sense. You probably have a mommy kink or some shit huh?” You look at him in disbelief and suck your teeth when your staff betrays you with giggles. 

“I do not–” 

“Momm–.” 

“Dominic.” You warn, glaring at him. He bursts out laughing, and you can’t help the scoff you let out. 

“You know, they do say that Capricorns and Cancers are the mom and dad of the zodiac.” You try to reason.

“You’re the mom right?” He asks. You squint your eyes at him and dig around the space between you two. He’s simpering at you, trying to prove his mommy kink bit.

“I lied, I'm a Leo.”

“No, you’re not.” 

“I know.” You pull out a little knitted beanie baby from the blankets. It wears the hat Dominic had on during Coachella. “A fan made this for you right?” 

“Yes, she did! Isn’t it sick?” 

“It is. How does it feel having some of the most creative fans there is out there?” 

Dominic looks between you, and the plush, then reaches his hand out for it. “You know, it's almost surreal. This fame shit kinda came out of nowhere for me, so there was a huge adjustment period I went through when it came to people supporting me and giving me things they put so much time into.” 

You nod, letting him continue.

“I think I’m still adjusting to it really, but nothing brings me more joy than like seeing this stuff you know? I love my fans, and I’d be nothing without them.” 

“It seems they love you back just as much, if not more.” Dom grins and nods, “Yeah, I’d say so. They’re so fucking creative.” 

“Have you read your fanfics?” 

“Jesus fucking Christ.” 

“Because I have one right here we can—” You stop mid-sentence and pull out your phone. 

“Are you serious?” He looks at the camera as if he was Jim from The Office when you ignore him, and begin typing with urgency.

“This is the most excited I’ve seen you since this started.” 

You ignore his comment and hand him your phone with a fic pulled up. 

“Read this.”

“Yo, do you read these yourself? You found this way too fast.”

“I found this one last night. Now read.” 

It’s a Tumblr story you saved for this very moment, and you wouldn’t pass up the opportunity. 

“Smut? What’s smut?” He looks at you for an answer, but you just gesture your hands toward the phone for him to keep reading. 

It’s silent for a few, and you signal your cameraman to zoom in on Dominic’s face. 

You watch as his face morphs into confusion, then surprise, then what you assume is mild interest, before he’s pulling the phone back and his eyes are blown wide. 

“Holy fucking shit y’all write porn about me?” The crew erupts into laughter, and you tuck your lips in to avoid laughing too. 

“Smut.” You say. 

Dominic glances from you, back to the phone. 

“Why am I kinda turned on by this.” 

“Because I wrote it.” 

Dominic whips his head towards you, and his mouth drops.

“Wait really?” You don’t respond, reaching down to the floor and pulling up a box of Reese’s Puffs cereal. 

“Reese’s?” You ask, dropping a handful into your mouth and holding the box out to him. 

“Where did you—” Dominic keeps the same shocked expression and turns back towards the camera. The cameraman starts to laugh again and zooms in on his face. 

“When did you—” He stops, watching you chew with mild interest to his confusion. So he presses his lips together, clicks your phone off, and folds his hands together over his lap. 

“Yeah, let me get some.” You wordlessly lean over and Dominic tilts his head back so you can shake some cereal from the box into his mouth. 

“Good?” You ask while chewing. 

“Yeah.” He nods. Silence ensues while you both continue to chew while staring at each other. Then at the same time, you turn to the camera with monotone expressions. It’s unplanned, and the crew let out chuckles once again. 

“So how was touring?” You swallow, and reach down towards the floor again, pulling up two bowls with spoons in them. Dom’s learned not to question you anymore at this point, and just accepts a bowl. 

“It was fucking fun dude. I wasn’t expecting everyone to know the words of my album for the first few dates since I toured a solid week after the release.” 

“Resse’s, Cinnamon Toast Crunch, or Lucky Charms?” 

“Cinnamon Toast Crunch.” 

You pull up that box, and pour some into his bowl, then yours. “It must have felt incredible to hear them yelling it back to you. Did it?” 

“Oh man, I don’t think that’s something I’ll ever get used to. A lot of my songs are me just fucking around and making stuff that people can dance to you know?” You nod, and bring up a jug of milk, filling up your bowl, then Dom’s.

“So when I’m performing, it kinda feels like me and my fans are just kicking shit up. I’m dancing, they're dancing, it feels good. It’s fun. Whatever’s bothering them can just be forgotten for a bit.” He takes a spoonful of cereal to his lips and hums around his spoon. 

“I was at one of your shows, the LA one. And what I noticed was that your energy on stage is unbelievable.” You press your cereal down into the milk with your spoon, before continuing. 

“Like, you look so youthful, and just in your element up there. You bring such an intense and loving energy to every show and I strangely found myself missing you when it was all over and I’d never even formally met you until now.” 

It’s silent for a moment, Dominic soaking up your words while you begin eating. 

“Was that your way of confessing? Are we like gonna kiss now?” 

You roll your eyes and your crew giggles. 

“No, but seriously, thank you. That means the world, especially when like I said before I’m still adjusting to this shit.” 

“Well for what it’s worth, I think you’re navigating through all this perfectly. It’s why I became a fan in the first place. Your talent is unique to you and only you. And I mean it when I say talent like that only comes once in a lifetime.”

You point your spoon at him, “I’m sure I can speak for all of us when I say we’re beyond lucky to experience you and all your greatness in our lifetime.” You give him a big smile. 

Dominic stares at you, and you can’t read his expression but you also don’t look for too long. Opting to look into your cereal bowl, because you could feel the love-sick look that was about to show on your face.

“You’re too good at this sentimental shit dude, what the fuck.” His voice sounds a bit choked up, so you try to lighten the mood. 

“Don’t start crying on here or I’ll be forced to use it as my thumbnail for views.” The staff comes to your aid with laughter, and Dominic joins in. 

“You wouldn’t do that.” He goes to wipe his face with his shirt but is met with silence and your face back to its deadpan. He looks between you and the staff, then the camera. He speaks a little unsure, his voice going up a pitch.

“Right?”

You fully break character and full-on laugh. Unable to keep up your act with him. 

The podcast continues for a bit longer before you bring it to a close. 

“Is there anything else you’d like to say before I take a nap in your bed?” The cameraman zooms in on Dominic. 

“Um, thank you for having me. This was easily my favorite interview I’ve done. The cereal was great.” he laughs and holds up the bowl. “To my fans, I love you all so much, thank you for always showing out for me.” 

“Please continue to love my album, and stay tuned for what’s to come.” Someone behind the camera whistles, and everyone begins clapping.

The camera zooms out and shows you staring at Dom with the expression you feared the most. You’re looking at him with a dopey smile, cheek resting against the palm of your hand. 

One of the staff calls out your name, and you blink, jumping up and looking at the camera, then back at Dom who’s looking at you with a shit-eating grin. 

“Oh my god, were you falling in love with me just now?” 

“No, what.” You scoff, looking around like he’s crazy. 

“Holy shit, you were totally falling in love with me!” He laughs while moving up and pointing at you excitedly. The staff once again, betray you and join Dom. You mutter curses and pull back the blankets, stumbling off the bed and speed-walking away. The camera follows you, as you go behind the staff and all the equipment.

“Wait, I’m sorry!” Dominic’s still laughing, hopping up and following after you.

“Let me take you out to dinner, I’m sorry!” He calls, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and slinging himself over you, while you cover your face and groan. 

The camera follows you both all the way out until you turned the corner. Laughs still loud and boisterous on the set. 

[daisykihannie]

Property of the Maknaes (K.SM + Y.JI)

pairing: Jeongin x afab gn!reader x Seungmin

warnings: smut, NSFW, oral giving & reacieving, degradation, praise, mommy kink, pup kink, threesome, dub-con, intoxication, hand kink, power switch, messy, choking on cock, Jeongin and Seungmin kiss and get handsy with each other, rough, unprotected sex, etc.

a/n: i more than likely missed some warnings since this took me two weeks to write, having to fit it around my work schedule. Also, i didn’t proof-read this because it took me so long to write so i apologize in advance for any spelling mistakes or grammatical errors.

Written for my lovely moot @chvnmax who made this request.

The atmosphere inside the club was heavy but in the best way. The bass was radiating from the floor, through the soles of your feet and traveling up your spine. god, you missed this. Work had gotten so stressful lately with all the new contracts being made with the trainees and renewing old contracts with a lot of the current idols and groups.

You’d been working under Park Jinyoung at JYP entertainment for a few years now and it wasn’t bad work, you got paid well, but you didn’t have a ton of free time lately and it had started to get to you.

Luckily you had been granted a small break and you were itching to get back into the clubs, get wasted, and have fun. You’d earned this, you deserve to let off some steam and pent up stress.

You worked your way through the sweaty bodies that were grinding against one another, clouds of smoke billowing through the air and tangling into your senses, before finally making it to the bar.

Taking your place on a barstool, the bar tender flashed a dazzling smile your way before taking your order. You ordered three lemon drops to start, downing them all in quick succession before sucking on a lime wedge to satiate the burn coating your taste buds.

You spun around in the barstool, crossing your left leg over your right and placing your elbows on the bar behind you and leaning back against the wooden surface. You took a moment to survey the crowd around you, your eyes sweeping between various bodies tangled together on the dance floor before they landed on a small group of men that were nestled comfortably in a large corner booth on the opposite side of the room.

Their eyes were already on you, all of them being insanely attractive, you could’ve sworn they were idols at your company but you didn’t interact with idols on a regular basis considering you spend most of your time in the offices, so you figured you were probably mistaken.

You watched as two of the men’s eyes raked up and down your body, their gazes burning into your flesh with the intensity and hunger displayed in them. As their eyes traveled from the heels you wore and up your legs, a smirk pulled at the corner of your lips and you shifted your legs. You slowly moved your left leg off of your right, resting them next to one another before pointing your toes and putting your right leg over the left to put on a tiny show for the men.

They watched your movements, eyes continuing their assent on your body in a languid manner, taking in every curve and detail of the outfit that clung tightly to your skin.

When your eyes met with theirs, tingles shot up your spine like hot flashes of electricity. Their aura was powerful and it easily commanded your attention without much effort. You ordered a gin and tonic from the bartender, maintaining eye contact with your head turned towards the bartender but your eyes stayed locked on the ginger man in the booth’s for a moment before shifting to the ravenette seated next to him.

Taking your new drink into your hand, you used the tip of your tongue to guide the straw between your lips with a smirk still on your face.

Knowing that they were still watching you attentively, you decided to lock eyes with the ginger man again before dragging your eyes downwards at your own languid pace, taking in all of his features from his sharp jawline, to the way his adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed, down to his collarbones that peeked out from where his white button down shirt was left open at the first two buttons and exposing a small portion of his chest.

You continued your decent down his chest and over his abdomen where you could tell he was hiding abs underneath the thin fabric, down to his hips and the hand that rested comfortably on his inner thigh. His hands made your mouth water, the long and slender fingers adorned with silver rings and the veins that protruded under the tan skin.

Your eyes moved back up his body just as slow, meeting with his once again before licking your lips, his eyes breaking their connection with yours to watch the pink muscle coat your lips with a light sheen of saliva, your eyes traveling to the ravenette next.

Your eyes flicking up to the almost wet looking hair that was parted and styled to lay over his eyesbrows but leaving his forehead exposed. He wore glasses with a thin, silver, wire frame that accented his cheekbones and square jaw. His throat was long and looked so painfully soft, you couldn’t help but let your eyes linger there for a moment, his adam’s apple shaped like a heart. He wore a beige sweater that had a wide neck, exposing where his broad shoulders and neck connected as it hung loosely to the side.

Your eyes then landed on his tiny, slutty, waist and his dainty hips. Traveling down to his thick and muscular thighs and you could’ve swore you were drooling now. Your eyes traced the outline of his body back up and meeting his eyes again, his lips pulling into a crooked smile that had you squeezing your thighs together without realizing.

They both looked beyond delicious and you’d never been this aroused before, you three hadn’t even spoke but your mind was filled with thoughts of the ginger man’s pretty hands all over your body and the ravenette’s thighs between your own. It was probably just the alcohol and your pent up stress right?

You shot them one last wink before turning back around to face the bar and ordering another gin and tonic. You’ve shown them that you’re just as interested in them as they are you, the ball is in their court now. It’s up to them if they wish to approach you now or not. Luckily, they didn’t leave you waiting long, next thing you knew there’s one firm but still gentle hand on your left shoulder and a hand gently ghosting on the small of your back with feather light touches of his fingertips.

“Care to dance, pretty?” the one on your right said, close to your ear so he didn’t need to shout over the music. You turned to be met with the sharp fox-like eyes of the ginger man. “Think you can keep up with both of us, jagi?” the ravenette said on your left, meeting your gaze with a tilt of his head and a raised eyebrow. You smirked devilishly in response before picking up your fresh drink, swishing the liquid around the glass. “I don’t wanna waste my brand new drink boys. Think you two can be good, patient boys while i finish this?” you said slightly taunting them.

Both of their eyes shot open, widening at your words. Clearly, they were caught off guard by you asking them to be good boys, probably not used to anyone not easily getting on their knees for them. They seemed like they were used to being dominant and in control, making you want to challenge them a bit. You weren’t gonna make this so easy for them, even with how turned on you already are.

“Do you like good boys?” the ravenette asked with a slight blush rising to his cheeks. “or do you like a challenge?” the ginger followed up. Their words had heat pooling in your abdomen, causing you to shift just slightly in your seat, using your still crossed legs to provide a slight bit of friction to your core. You needed to keep your composure, and luckily they didn’t seem to notice your slight struggle.

“What if i said i liked both?” you wrapped your lips around your straw again, flickering your eyes between the two men who still stood on either side of you. Both of their composures crumbling slightly under the weight of your words as goosebumps pickled across the skin on the arms.

They both shared a look with one another as you continued to slowly drink from your glass, purposely dragging this out as much as you could while they fought to be good for you. They both seemed to be struggling with being good and you weren’t entirely sure who was gonna be the most challenging but that alone excited you.

Once you were down to the last bit of your drink, only a sip or two left, their patience seemed to snap. They spun you around in your seat before each one took a hand and dragged you out into the center of the dance floor. The ravenette found his place in front of you and the ginger slotted himself behind you.

The ginger man’s hand found their home on your hips while the ravenette took both your hands and placed them on his shoulders before his hands made their way to rest on your waist above the ginger’s hands. They sandwiched your body between theirs, caging you in like you were prey trapped between two predators.

“i don’t recall agreeing to dance boys.” you teased, causing them both to tense up and begin to retreat from your body. Before they could get too far, your grip on the man in front of you’s shoulders tightened and you pushed your body back against the wall of muscles behind you. They got the hint and closed back in on you, beginning to move languidly with the rhythm of the music.

“I’m Y/N. What should i call you two?” you didn’t want to just refer to them as Ginger and Ravenette. “If we told you that, you’d have to sign an NDA, Jagi.” the man behind you purred into your ear as he began to grind his hips against the plush of your ass. Your breath caught in your throat at the feeling of something hard against you and you were almost sure it wasn’t his phone in his pocket.

“Is that true pup?” you asked the man in front of you and you could’ve sworn he’d let out a whimper at the pet name but the music was so loud, you couldn’t be sure. “It’s true honey.” he said matter-of-factly with a smirk on his lips. You hummed in response, dancing against both men for a moment before pulling the man in front even closer and using one hand to grab the jaw of the man behind you, guarenteeing their full attention was on you. “I’ll sign.” was all you said before releasing both of them.

“The name is Jeongin and he’s Seungmin.” the ginger purred against the shell of your ear before taking it between his teeth with a gentle nibble, his breath fanning across your ear and causing a shiver to course through you. The names sounded slightly familiar in your buzzed brain but the arousal mixed with the alcohol hand you feeling dizzy in their grips so the thought of familiarity was quickly replaced by the sensation of their hands burning into your flesh.

You dragged your fingertips down the biceps of Seungmin while continuing to roll your ass back against Jeongin. The music taking over your senses as you continued to dance against the men that had your caged between their firm bodies, leaving you a bit more pliant than you’d expected to become. You felt your core begin to pulse as both their colognes flooded your nose, making you realize that you needed them in ways you couldn’t even begin to comprehend. You needed their bare skin on yours, needed their mouths worshiping your body, their pretty fingers inside you, their cocks buried inside you as they used you as their cocksleeve.

You were snapped out of your sinful fantasy of them as the ravenette spoke in a low growl. “wanna take this somewhere a bit more private? let us be your good boys?” and maybe you whimpered at his words but who would know with the volume of the music.

You bit your lower lip as your half lidded eyes met Seungmin’s that were swimming with lust and desire, and nodding your head in response. Soon enough, the ravenette was in front of you, holding your hand to guide you to an empty room as Jeongin tailed behind, holding your other hand.

it didn’t take long to spot an empty room, luckily these specific types of clubs are fully aware of the alcohol induced horny hazes that their patrons tend to fall under and had rentable rooms for this specific purpose.

The three of you walked into the room and Seungmin flicked on the light switch, illuminating the room in a red hue from the bars of led lights that were installed to the ceiling and once you were all inside, Jeongin locked the door behind the three of you.

They didn’t waste anymore time before Jeongin was flipping you around by the waist to have you facing him as his lips crashed into yours. The force of the kiss had you stumbling back slightly, your back connecting with seungmin’s chest. Seungmin’s hands rested on your hips when he caught you from falling, using them to roll your hips, ass grinding back against his crotch and his lips met the bare expanse of your neck.

Seungmin was almost lazy with the way he worked his mouth over your skin, using the tip of his tongue to trace your jugular vein, eliciting a whimper from your throat that Jeongin happily swallowed down as his kisses became more desperate. Jeongin’s tongue danced messily with your own, licking along your teeth and causing saliva to spill from the corners of your mouth as he took his chance to make you start falling apart from his mouth alone.

It didn’t help that Seungmin had found your sweet spot while exploring your throat with open mouth kisses and dragging his teeth across the soft flesh. Your knees had threatened to buckle more than once but Seungmin held you up with the bruising grip he had on your hips, the pads of his finger tips digging in to wrap around the bone slightly. You were quickly becoming overwhelmed and trying to desperately cling to the remaining thread of your sanity. you refused to be this easy.

You pushed jeongin away with your hands that held onto his shoulders, a string of saliva leaving your lips still connected before it broke away. You spun away from the two of them, Seungmin’s hands leaving your hips as you sauntered over to the bed. You crawled up the mattress, shaking your ass to taunt the two males, from the foot of the bed to the headboard where you got comfortable and rested your back against the wood with pillows piled beneath your lower back.

“Why don’t you two be good for me and sit? One on each side of me.” you called out and ran your finger tips in small circles over the silk sheets where you wanted each of them to sit. They obeyed you easily, their pants doing nothing to hide their arousal with the tents they were both sporting. You weren’t doing much better but luckily you wore black slacks so the wetness that had completely soaked through your underwear wasn’t showing.

When they both took their places on either side of you, propped up on their knees and sitting on their heels, they reached forward to touch you. Jeongin reached for your left thigh that sat closest to him and seungmin reached for your hip bone again. “Who gave you two permission to touch? Because, I certainly did not.” the boys both blinked at your words and retracted their hands, placing them atop their thighs and hanging their heads, looking like two puppies who’d just gotten scolded. Cute.

“Good boys.” You purred and put a hand on each of their cheeks, using your thumb to pet them softly and they both leaned into the touch. “Now, you’ll listen to what i say, if you do a good job, you’ll get a reward.” You commanded and they both nodded in response, shy but showing you that they can, in fact, be good boys.

“Jeonginnie~ be a good boy and take of my pants yeah? only my pants.” the ginger licked his lips hungrily as his eyes flicked from your own down to your heat and then back up, eyes half lidded in lust. He made quick work of your belt, unclasping the buckle before undoing the button and zipper of your pants with shaky, overly excited hands. You couldn’t help but watch his pretty hands work and you felt heat pooling in your stomach again.

“Minnie baby~ kiss me.” was all you said to cause Seungmin’s eyes to leave Jeongin’s hands and snap back up to you when you wrapped both your hands around the back of his neck and pulled him forward. He had to catch himself by placing his right hand on the head board and his left was planted only millimeters from your chest on the bed next to you.

the kiss was hot and desperate as you took over control of them kiss. Your tongue slipping into his mouth easily and licking at everywhere you could reach. The ravenette let out soft moans and whimpers that were easily swallowed by your lips and tongue as Jeongin finally got your pants off. You felt his finger tip swipe across the soaked center of your underwear, applying slightly more pressure to the bundle of nerves.

One of your hands slipped into Seungmin’s hair and tangled his hair around your fingers before tightening your grip and pulling him away from you hard. A whimper escaped him as his head bent back with the force. You looked to Jeongin now with furrowed brows and spit slicked lips, not letting up on Seungmin’s hair. “Jeongin. I told you to ONLY remove my pants. You did not have permission to touch me so you don’t get a reward.” the ginger pouted slightly but you turned your attention to Seungmin before entertaining him any further.

“Minnie has been such a good pup for me. Why don’t you eat mommy out as a reward huh?” you cooed and released the grip on his hair and pet his hair softly to soothe the burn on his scalp. “Y-yes mommy. i’ll be so good for you.” seungmin almost whimpered as he slotted himself between your legs and began leaving open mouthed kisses along the inside of either thigh, removing your underwear and lifting both your legs up to rest over his shoulders.

He wasted no time before diving in and licking a stripe between your folds, a groan falling from his lips as his eyes fluttered shut. “You taste so good baby.” he groaned out before lapping at your juices like he’d been stranded in the desert and this was his first drink in weeks. Your hand carded through his black locks before tangling your fist into his hair and holding him in place while you rode his tongue in the way that felt heavenly to you.

Jeongin remained seated to your side on his knees, his nails digging into the flesh on his thighs as he watched Seungmin lap at your heat hungrily and rut against the mattress. His cock was painfully hard and straining against the tight fabric of his pants. He had to take a deep breath to keep his hands from wrapping around his cock through his pants.

You watched the ginger trying his best to remain obedient, the sight of him trying so hard for you and the feeling of Seungmin’s skilled tongue tearing you apart had heat pooling in your abdomen and you could feel yourself beginning to slip into a hazy, submissive state of mind. You wanted them to use you, ruin you, break you apart and piece you back together to their own liking. The need was almost primal.

You felt your high approaching quickly, your thighs spasming over the broad shoulders of the man who lie pliant between your legs. “F-fuck… just like that- god!” you moaned out and Seungmin sped up with his mouthing to get you to cum on his tongue, he needed to swallow your climax down and savor every taste you’d leave on his tongue.

It didn’t take much longer to have you tumbling off the cliff as your climax wracked through your veins like lava, your thighs clamping down on the sides of Seungmin’s head instinctually as your head was thrown back against the pillows and wanton moans spilled from your lips. He had you seeing white stars as they exploded behind your eyelids, his tongue gently lapping at your core as you came back down to earth after swallowing everything you gave him with a few guttural groans punched from his gut.

“fuck- y/n… you look and sound so pretty when you fall apart.” Jeongin groaned from beside you. “you wanna taste how sweet they are?” Seungmin asked as he climbed up from between your legs and up your body, leaning towards jeongin, causing them to meet above you. You watched as their tongues danced together above you in a sloppy kiss. You heard Jeongin moan into Seungmin’s mouth and the sight alone had your core throbbing in need again.

“They do taste heavenly on your tongue Hyung.” Jeongin pulled away from the other male, eyes fluttering as he savored your taste. They dove back into a sloppy kiss, Jeongin’s hand left his lap to palm seungmin over his pants where the older was painfully straining against the fabric. A whimper escaped his mouth as his hips stuttered and bucked into the palm of Jeongins hand.

“Such needy boys~” you cooed from beneath them, your core yearning to be filled by them, the sight above you making you feel dizzy with want. “Wanna be mommy’s good boys and use me? you’ve earned it.” you moaned out and spread your legs open for them again, propping yourself up on your elbows.

“Fuck- yes please?” Jeongin broke the kiss to reply, still applying pressure to Seungmin’s aching cock as they both looked down at you, eyes raking over the way you presented yourself for them. The dark, lust filled eyes of both men has you feeling hot, needy, and a little desperate.

Seungmin moves away from your body when you pat his thigh as a sign to let you up. You move away from the headboard and sit on your knees towards the foot of the bed, unbuttoning your shirt and letting it fall off your shoulders to meet your pants somewhere on the floor. “Well? Don’t just sit there. Let me see those pretty cocks.” you purred, snapping the two men out of their haze of watching you strip. They spring into action, stumbling through taking off their own clothes, Jeongin almost tripping as he clambered back onto the bed.

Seungmin sits where you were previously, back resting against the headboard. His cock was flushed red and angry as it leaked pre-cum where it rested against his abs. You got on your hands and knees, back arched to present your pretty hole to the youngest, still soaked with Seungmin’s saliva and your own arousal. Jeongin groaned at the sight, losing his patience as he dipped his index finger and middle finger inside of you, a whine escaping your lips as you pushed back against his lithe fingers and your cheek rested against Seungmin’s muscular thigh.

His fingers curled into you, hiting the bundle of nerves that were nestled inside your heat with ease thanks to the length of his digits. You could hear him shuffling against the sheets to take his place behind you, slipping his fingers out of you and earning a whine of protest at the feeling of emptiness. You lifted your head off of Seungmin’s thigh to shoot the younger a glare over your shoulder, receiving a cocky smirk in response.

Seungmin wrapped his fingers around your jaw to pull your head to face him again. His cock was in his hand as he dragged just the tip across the slightly swollen, pink flesh of your lips, coating them in his pre-cum and groaning at the sight. Your half lidded eyes stared at him, causing him to pull his lower lip between his teeth as he continued to paint your lips and the corners of your mouth with the clear fluid.

At that moment, Jeongin slammed his long cock into you and bottomed out in one thrust. You wailed out at the stretch, pain and pleasure fogging your brain as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. Seungmin used your surprise to thrust up into your mouth, cock hitting the back of your throat and causing you to gag and swallow around him as copious amounts of saliva poured into your mouth.

All their waiting caused a build up of frustration as they abused both of your holes. Jeongin angled his brutal thrusts to slam into your sweet spot repeatedly and Seungmin kept fucking into your mouth and choking you on his cock. The sounds of Jeongin’s hips meeting the plush of your ass filled the room, mixing with the sounds of Seungmin’s tip hitting your uvula over and over again, pulling gags out of you as saliva spilled out of the corner of your lips, drenching his cock and pubes thoroughly.

“Fuck- such a filthy cock slut. Like being plugged with two cocks at once? huh?” Jeongins words rushed straight to your gut, tightening the knot that was forming inside you. You whined around Seungmin’s cock as he shoved his hands into your hair and pulled you down on his cock. Your nose buried in his pubes as you gagged repeatedly around his tip that was buried in your throat. Each time your stomach tensed with a gag, you clenched hard around the cock buried inside you, eliciting almost animalistic groans and growls from the youngest.

“God- making them choke on your- ngghhh cock makes them clench so- FUCK!” Jeongins hips stuttered as he slammed into you hard and painted your walls white with his release. His seed filled you so full that his cum was leaking out around his cock, matting his own pubes together with the mess. Finally Seungmin pulled you off his cock so you could breathe, tongue lolling out of your mouth as you panted, saliva poured out of your mouth and Seungmin was quick to use his hand to meet his own climax.

His own white ropes began to paint your tongue and you wrapped your lips around him again, suckling at the tip and swallowing everything he gave you. Soft whines escaped the ravenette and hisses of overstimulation left Jeongin who was still buried inside of you when your second orgasm hit you like a freight train. The saltiness on your tongue was enough to have you clenching around Jeongin again as you came on his cock and he rocked his hips through his overstimulation to help you ride out your climax.

After you’d swallowed everything, you pulled off Seungmin with a pop and Jeongin pulled out of you just in time for you to collapse onto the bed, cum spilling out of you onto the sheets, your head falling to Seungmin’s thigh again. You were so so so beyond gone, body trembling and vision blurry. You could hear the men speaking but it sounded like they were underwater.

You barely registered Seungmin’s fingers carding through your sweat soaked hair. You barely registered Jeongin leaving gentle kisses along the expanse of your spine and shoulders. You barely registered the youngest needing your ass and you didn’t notice when he’d taken out his phone to film his cum spilling from your fluttering hole.

You weren’t sure how long you’d layed there but when you came to, you were wrapped up in the arms of both men laying on either side of you and you didn’t feel sticky like you’d expected to from the sweat and cum on your body and between your thighs.

“There you are darling~” Jeongin cooed softly from behind you. “Welcome back to earth jagi.” Seungmin followed up, placing a chaste kiss to your forehead. Your eyes fluttered open to see that you were cleaned and dressed and so were they. “Hmmm” you hummed out, feeling like you were floating still from the best sex you’ve had in a long time, honestly probably the best sex you’ve ever had.

The next day you had to go to work, still feeling the best you’ve felt in a while with the two men having fucked all the tension and stress from your body. Even your boss calling you at 6am didn’t seem to bring you down.

“Hey L/N F/N, the manager for Stray Kids was unable to make it in today and since it is such short notice, you’ll be in charge of covering for him temporarily. You’ll meet with them in the practice room on the 8th floor at exactly 7am. Do not be late.” and with that, Park Jinyoung hung up. Still, you were in too good a mood to let this faze you.

At exactly 6:58am you arrived at the door to the practice room and you could hear the men shouting inside. You opened the door and immediately fell into a 90° bow, hinged at the waist to greet the men.

“Hello, I am L/N F/N and i will be temporarily taking over for your manager until he returns. Please be kind to me.” You stood back up from your bow with a bright smile on your face as your eyes traveled across the faces of 8 stunning men staring at you.

Your smile fell and your eyes went wide as your gaze met the two men from last night with the biggest shit-eating grins plastered to there face. Jeongin spoke up first. “Don’t worry, we are all some very good boys.”

[whslnc]

— twisted love

nsfw mdni :3 | yandere!toxic!seokmin x fem reader | 1.3k

!! dubcon/noncon + stalker + manipulation + gaslighting + minnie is kinda mean ig + other stuff that might shock if you get shocked easily !!

- omgg this was so fun to write, thanks to @my-favefics for giving me the idea to actually develop this anyways i hope its a nice read, feedback is much appreciated i don’t write smut fr.

Seokmin likes you, he likes you a lot so much it’s hard for him to keep his eyes off you, talk less of his hands but he’s trying for you, he doesn’t want you to be uncomfortable around him. He’ll be patient if that’s what you need, that’s probably what you need, time, it doesn’t make sense that you would reject him after how thoughtful he’d been.

He thinks a lot about you after dark, about pretty you looked in your clothes that day loving how the material hugged your body so tightly he could clearly visualize your naked body he had brushed the thought away all day. It was torture, the way you’d move your body in the most innocent way but somehow so erotically. He thinks about that a lot, the way your breasts pressed against his chest, he swore he would feel your hard nipples through the thin fabric.

And as much as he tried not to he’d always somehow end up with his fist squeezing around his bulging cock, twisting and pulling as he recalled your perfect curves. Your sweet voice messages playing in the background, just so he could hear that pretty voice that never failed to get him going. He couldn’t help it, you were just so precious to him, so delicate, so tempting.

He was sure that you felt the same way about him, that you touched your wet cunt at night thinking of how his body would feel, why wouldn’t you? He did everything you wanted, took special care of you, but it wasn’t enough. He didn’t really understand why, he did it all for you.

The mood was right, you were alone and so close why would you push him away when he tried to kiss you, then proceed to act like nothing happened. Were you trying to toy with him?

Now you were just making him seem like the bad guy, he’d been so nice to you why did you have to ruin it?

He wasn’t planning on following you home it just happened like this, you were so naive so he had no problem in doing so, it was almost like you wanted him to. He’d wait for you to get in the shower to make his appearance, absentmindedly rubbing your body clean, stripping himself off all his clothes before joining you, wrapping arms around your waist from the back.

He could feel you tense up, could hear your heavy breathing, he understood you didn’t expect this but what else could he do. He let his head rest gently on your neck, pressing his tongue first against your soft skin before bringing in his gentle kiss. You couldn’t move even after he turned your face to his and you could see his doe eyes that you were so fond of, he kissed you so gently like he was showing you love but nothing in this situation matched that gentleness.

“What’s wrong?” he asks cupping your cheeks in his hands, searching your face for a reason for the disgusted look on your face, his eyes pleading for an answer, “I’m not trying to hurt you, I just want you to understand how much I love you.”

A short gasp escapes your lips an array of tears follow, masked by the pour of water from the shower head above you, but he could see your frown and it hurt, because he was honest with you and yet you didn’t accept him. What more could you want, he loved you.

“Stop crying” he leaned in closer letting the words brush against your skin, cold and sharp, wrapping his hand over your mouth to mute your silent sobs, he watched you squeeze your eyes shut as you tried calming down your tears.

Once your sniffling stopped he let go of his grip on your jaw, sliding it down to your neck pulling you into a hungrier kiss pressing your bodies against each other, your back resting on the cold bathroom tiles, you could feel him so hard against your belly, so thick just poking into you.

His hand massaging your waist as his lips travel down your neck, you can barely hold back to tiny gasps that escape your lips, “That’s it”, you can feel his smile placing kisses on your breasts, sliding you pebble hard nipples between his teeth before sucking on them swallowing down every drip of water that trailed down.

You let him guide your hand down around his shaft, holding you tightly there as he rubbed your hand around him, twisting and pulling just enough for his voice to come out so breathy, “Kneel”

Your legs quickly gave in, kneeling in front of him coming face to face with his aching member, watching as it throbbed at the sight of you.

“Fuck” he sighs as he presses his thumb against your lips, opening up your mouth for him, loving the way you looked up at him so cluelessly before he shoved it down your throat, he didn’t know you could look so hot. The way your head bobbed around his cock drove him wild, you found yourself sucking on it, rolling your tongue around it, the sound of his gasps pushing you to give him more pleasure.

He lifts your head up gesturing for you to stand up for him, holding up your leg as he rubs his tip against your surprisingly wet cunt, wasting no time before forcing it into you, the tight walls driving him greedy for more.

All you weight is lifted up against the wall as he thrusts harshly into you, paying no mind to your soft cries from the thickness pulling you open from every inch, your begging only pushed him further, his kisses growing rougher the more your juices wrapped around him.

“Tell me you want me to cum inside” Resting his forehead against yours pulling your lip between his longingly before meeting your tired eyes, furrowing his eyebrows as he nodded slowly asking for your confirmation, “Come on baby” he knew you were too dazed to know what you were agreeing to only using it to his advantage.

“I want..” you didn’t even have to finish for him to quicken his pace, your words vibrating out as you completed the statement. With a soft kiss you felt your insides being filled with liquid warmth, his dick leaving you empty your aching walls clenching around nothing as your breaths came back to a normal pace.

He let go of you bringing you back to your feet that barely could handle your weight, keeping his hands on your waist. When you look up at him his eyes are filled with worry like he wasn’t the cause of your state. Taking you out of the shower and wrapping you in a towel before bringing you to your room.

Kneeling on the floor in front of you at the edge of your bed, he takes your hands in his, placing soft kisses on your palms.

“I’m sorry, forgive me?” his voice is sincere but the act is confusing, he inches closer between your legs mostly exposed despite the towel that only barely covers your pussy, “I wasn’t thinking straight, please let me make up for it” kissing your inner thigh, his eyes looking up at you yearning for your taste.

You don’t need to say anything, his soft pecks lead him to your cunt, the tip of his nose already grazing your clit as he takes in the sight. The gasp that escapes your lips once his tongue hits your sensitive spot makes him smile, he kisses on it gently passing his tongue along your slit enjoying the aftertaste of his own semen.

His touch makes you a loud mess, you didn’t even know you could be so loud from someone’s touch, he could feel himself getting harder from your sounds of pleasure, just the feeling of his tongue savoring your perfect taste was enough to make him a leaking mess.

Maybe he did love you, maybe you loved him back 'cause you couldn’t just keep your hands off him for the rest of the night, soaking in all the pleasure he could give you, it was an inexplicable feeling.

[sinofwriting]

Figlia Mia - Charles Leclerc

Words: 6,231 Summary: When she had met Charles Leclerc for the first time in 2017, she watched as her grandfather gave him the impossible task of restoring Ferrari’s greatness and her the task of making sure he does so. Note(s): This was a lot of fun to write. I got to do a lot of digging into Ferrari’s history in motorsports and F1, and make sure that the changes I made to the history of Ferrari made some sense. I also got to reignite my love for stats and things. I spent a lot of time looking at different circuit stats (which will be relevant in the second part of this fic) and just driver stats. Used a translator for the Italian but not google translate. Also, I shouldn’t have to say this but: How I write the drivers in these fics is not based on my feelings for them, it is just what I need them to be. So, please don’t send me hate because your favorite driver says or acts or is regarded in a certain way. Thanks! Hope you like this!

Taglist | Masterlist | Part Two | Patreon

Figlia mia - my daughter stella - star

2017

She eyes her grandfather wearily. He had called her home early from her classes and she had rushed home to Maranello.

“Nonno, what is the matter?” His gaze turns to her and he smiles, the solemn look on his face gone as he sees her. “My stella. You are back home.” His accent is thick as it wraps around the English words, always willing to indulge her. She sighs, leaning down to hug him. “You called me back. Did something happen?” He shakes his head, patting her hand when she straightens. “No, I have a meeting that I want you to attend with me.” She frowns. “It is late in the season for a meeting. Did Vettel or Räikkönen break contract?” “No. It’s for the team, but more of a future prospect.” Her frown deepens. “If it’s Hamilton, he won’t leave Mercedes and you shouldn’t entertain him, Nonno. You only have so much energy.” “I don’t want to take him from Mercedes. He wouldn’t be able to win with us anyways.” He groans as he thinks of how long it’s been since his team has won, and has achieved the greatness they are supposed to. “I just want your opinion, they should be here any minute.”

An uneasiness sits heavy in her stomach at how cryptic he’s being with her, something he never is, but she sits in the chair beside him. Taking his hand in both of hers and breathing a sigh of relief at the strongness still in his hands, no shakiness to be found. He was in good health, she reminded herself as they waited. He hadn’t even had a cold for three years, but still her mind worries.

“Mr. Enzo, Stella, your guests have arrived.” Anita’s voice says through the intercom. He presses the button to talk. “Please have Andrea get them and bring them back and tell him to stay as well.” “Andrea is here?” He hums, “I asked him to come. I have an idea.” She doesn’t say anything else to that and keeps quiet as she waits for whoever to arrive.

There’s a slight relief in it not being either Vettel or Räikkönen, she wasn’t keen to meet them for the first time right now, not when she had rushed home. She also didn’t want her grandfather meeting them now for the first time, so late in the year where he could catch an illness.

A knock sounds on the wooden door and she turns her head to look at it. Releasing her grandfather's hand from hers and moving to stand behind his chair. Her normal position in such meetings.

“Enter.” He calls and the door opens. “Signor.” Andrea greets, as he steps into the room, two, or rather one man and one boy following behind him with wide eyes. “I have your guests.” “Please sit, the three of you.” He tells them and they all quickly do.

Her eyes narrow as she recognises the familiar face of the man who is currently running the Ferrari Driver Academy and the just familiar face of the current F2 champion. The sight makes her want to lean down, to question why a F2 driver of all people is being allowed to meet her grandfather. A luxury he hasn’t afforded a single F1 driver since her father died other than Michael Schumacher. And even then he had won a championship first with them. But such a thing isn’t not her place, especially in front of guests, so she keeps quiet as her grandfather does as well, clearly waiting them out, letting the tension in the room build.

“Charles Leclerc.” Her grandfather says and the boy practically jumps. “You started winning in karting before you were even ten in 2005 and never stopped. A second place in Alps, then fourth in the European F3.” She watches as he winces at the reminder of what he clearly views as failures. “But you won your first year of GP3 and now have won F2. Truly impressive.” His eyes are still wide and they dart to the left before returning. “Thank you, Signor.” Her eyebrows raise at the way the Italian term leaves his mouth. He clearly had invested time in his Italian lessons. “Don’t thank me. You’ve done well for yourself. And now you have an F1 seat.” Her eyes darted to Andrea, “Nonno.” She hisses, stepping forward. “Andrea has signed the appropriate NDA’s and contracts, stella. There is no need for your worry.” This meeting seemed to be nothing but worrying for her. And suddenly the employment contract she had seen in her inbox for Andrea makes all the sense, especially since it had been sent to her directly, not cc'd.

“You will be joining Sauber this coming season. Are you ready?” “I hope and believe I am.” “And you have a team? A trainer, your own PR manager? A assistant?” Charles shakes his head, cheeks red. “I’m afraid not. I only signed the contract two days ago. I haven’t made arrangements.” “And your plans for the 2019 season? Still at Sauber?” “I only signed a one year contract with them. So I hope to stay with them if I can.” He hums and the tone if it tells her everything she needs to know and it takes everything in her to not show the horror she’s feeling. “There will be a spot open at Ferrari for the 2019 season. Show me you can handle an F1 car and perhaps it will be yours.” The three sitting opposite stare at him with wide eyes and Charles’ mouth is open, jaw dropped. “And Andrea will be your trainer. I have a good feeling about you Charles Leclerc, prove me right.” He then nods his head towards the door and the three scramble to stand and leave with rushed goodbyes.

She stands behind him for a moment before walking around the desk and flopping down in one of the seats.

“That boy is going to get destroyed.” “He is a boy to me. Barely a year younger than you, I believe.” She scoffs, “please, nonno. You have just put the biggest weight on his shoulders. Prove to me? And what if he speaks of this? Of getting to meet the great Enzo Ferrari when the man doesn’t leave his house and hasn’t met any drivers or even team principals in person since Schumacher.” “Then you will handle it, I suppose. And I will be proven wrong about the boy since he had to sign an NDA. Not a word of this meeting or this trip to Italy.” “And if people ask about Andrea? How they met? How he came to work with him?” “The academy put them in contact together. And no one will think anything of it. He is too distantly related to think that we have anything to do with it. Nor has he ever spoken of us.” His eyes soften as he really looks at her. “Everything will be fine, stella. I have a good feeling about this one.” She looks at him, worries still sitting heavy in her stomach, horror too, because god what if her grandfather had just sentenced him to forever chasing a dream he can’t have and faith in them that they are unable to deliver. She knows already that both Räikkönen and Vettel are feeling that way, their faith in Ferrari wavering if not gone. “I won’t be able to do anything to help him. Not for years.” “You will be able to help. Not as much as you will in a few years time, but you can still help. We still make decisions for the team and sign off on things.” “And if he leaves before then?” “He won’t.” His voice is quiet, but filled with unwavering faith. Faith she wants to feel herself. “He will be what our team needs to become champion and he won’t leave until he gets that.”

2018

“Vettel is not happy that he wasn’t told before about getting a rookie as a teammate.” She tells her grandfather, looking over the top of her laptop at him. “Sebastian will deal.” Enzo coughs. “And he won’t have a rookie as a teammate.” She makes a humming noise, looking at all of the articles about the announcement of Charles Leclerc joining the historic F1 team before opening her email again. “Should I cover Andrea’s costs again?” “Yes. As long as you aren’t in power with the team, I want Charles kept close.” “That won’t happen until the end of the 2023 season. You want us to pay for Andrea that long?” “Andrea is also family.” He reminds her, before lips twitch into a smile. “And there is a reason he doesn’t receive as large of a Christmas bonus as everyone else anymore.”

2020

“They want to sign Sainz for a two year deal.” He snorts, “and for what? Let me guess sponsors?” “They’re serious about this, nonno. His team has already approached us about a two year contract.” “And he can’t go to Aston because Vettel is going there for two years.” “And he’ll never go back to Red Bull. Mercedes won’t entertain the idea.” “But we are?” He groans, running a hand over his face. “God, what has happened to this team? He hasn’t gotten a single podium, a win! And he’ll hit a hundred races this year. That is who they want on the team?” “He was sixth in the driver standings last year.” “Could he handle it?” She frowns. “Maybe. We wouldn’t know until it happened. He’s older like Vettel, has more experience as well than Leclerc. But Leclerc already has wins under his belt, managed to get fourth in the standings in only his second year. He was teammates with Verstappen in his rookie year, so it’s possible he could handle it.” “A two year contract, huh?” “Two years.”

2022

“Sainz wants to be extended.” She rubs at her forehead, the email, moreso the wording was troubling. “And why should we?” “Because he finished ahead of Charles in the driver's standings last year.” “By less than ten points and due to our own team's failings. They way they embarrassed him in Monaco.” He shakes his head, the rage he felt that day watching it happen coming back. “Four podiums to one. And neither got a win.” “Who needs a seat?” “There’s rumors about Schumacher.” “No.” He shakes his head, fingers beginning to tap against his desk. “Maybe in a few seasons, but not now.” “Bottas, Guyuan, De Vries, Hulkenberg.” He scoffs at all the names. “A friend at McLaren said they’re looking to drop Ricciardo.” His fingers stop. “Ricciardo. He’d understand his role.” “And as long as we treat him better than Red Bull did or how McLaren are, we’d have him.” “Why do they want to drop him?” “Underperforming. Norris is doing better.” He looks at her disbelief. “Please tell me that’s a joke.” She shakes her head. “He gave that fucking fake British team their first win in a decade!” “He’s older and despite his knack for giving good development advice, they’re ignoring it for Norris’.” He rubs at his forehead. “Write him down. Maybe we can get a talk with him before another team manages to snatch him up. Who else?” “It’s all reserves and formers now. There’s Piastri who's serving as Alpine’s reserve this season, wouldn’t shock me if they’ve already signed a contract with him for the next year but haven’t announced it though. We or Haas really has Illot still under contract as a reserve.” He shakes his head. “Leave him in Indycar for a few seasons. Might try him in 2024 when we’re looking for another driver.” She nods, writing his name down with 2024 beside it. “And Piastri?” “No. Alpine probably has something signed with him already. They’d be stupid not to.” “That leaves Ricciardo and Sainz.” He frowns. “Reach out to Ricciardo. We nearly had him for 2021, we should’ve taken him.” “Understood.”

As she begins to type out her email to Ricciardo’s team and she wonders how Blake will react to seeing an email for Ferrari, Enzo speaks.

“How is Charles?” “Nonno.” “I can’t ask?” “You are fishing.” She replies, not looking away from her laptop. “But he is good. Ready for the season to start.” “Hmm. And will he be coming for dinner?” She pauses her typing, looking at him. “Are you asking him to come to dinner?” “I’d like to meet the boy that has made my granddaughter so happy.” “Oh, nonno. It is not a boy that is making me so happy. Just you. You have been in better spirits for the last year.” She laughs. “And isn't it interesting that it was only when you started seeing him that both of our spirits rose?” Her eyes narrow. “Don’t make me take the Leclerc name.” It’s a high insult to the Ferrari name, one that her grandfather has made sure that she knew better to even joke about, but he doesn’t react with his fiery temper, just smirks. “It’s serious enough for marriage but not for you to bring him to meet me?” Blood rushes to her cheeks. “You have met him.” “When he was a boy.” He counters. “One you had distaste for.” He reminds her not that she has ever forgotten.

She had told Charles on their third date about it, watching as his mouth gaped at her, unable to believe that the boy he was at the age could be distasteful. Now, he likes to tease her about it. About how she didn’t like him but as soon as he left the room and she was issued the challenge of making sure he got to Ferrari she did.

“I haven’t met him since. I haven’t met him as your partner. And we both know that you’ll be taking each other's names.” “It is too early to say that.” She tells him, voice quiet. “But I’ll message him. He’ll love to meet you.”

2023

“This is ridiculous!” “I told you that this would happen! You put your hopes and dreams on a boy and look at what has happened!” “I did no such thing!” “You did! And I told you that you would ruin him. That he would lose faith just like the ones before and now look.” She waves a hand at the TV in front of them, playing the lowlights of the season. “He didn’t just go to that meeting with Red Bull and then shut it down like he has before, he entertained it.” She scoffs, shaking her head. “He should’ve left us for them when they first fucking offered.” “You do not mean that.” “Look at what our team has done to him! Look at what you have done! I have no power there and barely do you. I get to vote on what drivers we add to the team, but it is one vote, against six others. Same goes for the general direction of the car, which we both were out voted in. And that is it, that is my power! I don’t get to give him the Ferrari team he deserves, that we deserve, because you signed it away when my father died until I turn twenty-seven!” She turns away from Enzo, taking in a shaky breath, before turning back to him. “And you will not ever bring it up to Charles that he considered leaving us or if he does. Because I set up that meeting with Red Bull for him.” He looks at her resigned, saddened, but not surprised. “You would let him leave?” “I don’t let him do anything. I love you, nonno. I love this team. But it is not just Charles that they are disappointing and letting down. It is our fans, our people, our family, our legacy, me, you. Next month, I get to finally take back our families power in the sport and it is already too late for this season and nearly too late for the next. I can’t even guarantee a good first season with me in charge because of where the car is already developed too. And the upgrades.” She shakes her head. “None of it would matter with the team that is working there.”

“What do you want to do?” She looks at him, struggling not to cry, and she folds herself down in front of him, taking her hands in his. “A new structure and house. The voting can stay, but it has anonymity, we don’t talk about who is going to vote for what, only after the votes have been cast we talk, discuss, but with us having the power to veto if decisions are being made too much on outside factors like money and perceptions. Drivers who have multi-year contracts starting next season can be present for the votes, hear why we voted for what we did and even jump in on discussions if they feel inclined. We change. We have been stagnant for too long. We need new blood and beliefs.” He starts to shake his head and she squeezes his hands.

“Nonno, please just listen to me.” She pleads. “We need a complete overhaul of the team, you know it and have said it yourself. I can’t just hire Italian first, not when that has ended with us where we are now. I can offer everyone severance packages, pay for it all myself, but no more Italian first. We take who is best suited for the team and hope they are Italian. Maybe we baptize them if they aren’t.” His lips quirk into a smile. “The strategy team needs to go, PR, social media, the race engineers.” “Sainz likes his race engineer.” “Sainz also likes to say that he comes up with the strategy used in the races but as soon as they fail, he backtracks. He is a fair driver, but he needs to be retrained in PR.” “His family needs a gag order.” Her grandfather huffs. “Yes, but that is not something we can do. What we can do is get him retrained and get a new PR manager for him, same with social media. Charles will be getting the same. He needs an image refresh.” “This is what you want?” “Yes. I want to bring our team back to greatness. I already have the people I want for the team, I’m just waiting for your approval and for the next month to pass before I start sending out contracts.” He sighs, looking in pain. “Can they at least speak Italian?” She smiles, standing to press a kiss to his cheek. “They can learn and they will quickly.” Another sigh leaves him but he smiles, warm and gentle at her. “Mia figlia, la mia stella, fai quello che devi. Il mio supporto è tuo, sempre.” My daughter, my star, do what you must. My support is yours, always. “Thank you, papa.”

October 23rd, 2023

She stands facing the back wall of the room, listening as the door opens and people trudge in. She tries to count the pairs of feet she hears. She knows how many are supposed to come to this meeting, how many she asked to come, but it wouldn’t surprise her if someone let slip that the new boss, and the big boss at that, had arranged a meeting that a few people would try tagging along.

It’s the sound of the door shutting and then locking from the inside that has her turning around, giving a nod of thanks to her bodyguard, Roman, who inclines his head before retreating to the left front corner of the room.

“I see you all made it.” She says, her Italian accent barely noticeable around the English words and she can see a few faces turn confused at the English. Ferrari was Italian, they spoke Italian, had meetings in Italian. And more importantly, she was not just Ferrari, but a Ferrari. One that only three people in this room had ever met in person, and only two others had seen her face because of video calls. “Good, let's talk about the dumpster fire that was yesterday.” She can see a few faces balk at her words, but it’s Sainz’s that gets her attention. “You don’t agree?” “It was an unfortunate thing that happened to Charles, but I still ended up in P3.” “Due to a disqualification. Which is also what happened to your teammate. This also is the third time you’ve ended up on the podium due to such a thing. Let us also not forget to acknowledge that while the FIA didn’t check your car, like they should have after finding that two of four of the cars they checked had issues with their planks, doesn’t mean we didn’t.” He frowns and so does a good majority of the room. “I don’t understand.” “Your planks were just like Leclerc’s. Just barely under what they should be. But still enough for disqualification.” Eyes widen and she continues. “Not that it matters, because I won’t be alerting the FIA of such a thing. Not when the teams didn’t get enough time to set up the car because of the sprint format and I don’t think we need to give McLaren more of a jump on us.”

Walking around the room, she nearly pauses behind Charles' chair. Wants so badly to squeeze his hand, to offer him comfort or a way to get his frustrations out, but she continues until she is at the front of the room.

“The FIA won’t get rid of sprint races, but myself and a few other team representatives, will be going to them with a new sprint format for the next season hopefully or for at least starting the 2025 season. I expect both of you,” she looks at Sainz and Charles, “to voice your support. And I’m sure Red Bull, Williams, Mercedes, McLaren, Aston Martin, Alpine, and Haas, will be saying the same to their drivers as well.” “You want us to support a format that could be worse?” Charles asks, and she can see a few shakes of the head at him. “No, I want you to support one that is better. For Sprint weekends, you will have free practice one and the sprint shootout on Friday. On Saturday, there will be the sprint, followed by second free practice, then qualifying. Sundays of course will just be race day. Does that sound worse?” “No. You think the FIA will go for it?” “The FIA won’t have much of a choice. And besides next year allows each team to have more tyre’s allocated, they’ll want something extra to help burn through them to make it more interesting.”

“Now,” She lifts the lid of one of the two file boxes she has. “Leclerc, Sainz.” Both grimace at the use of their last names, but she catches a glimpse of amusement from Charles. “I have meetings with both of your management teams after this. Sainz, you’ll be getting a new PR manager, Ana. She or her assistant Val, will be with you for every event, interview, or anything else PR wise. Sometimes they both will.”

She turns her head to look at Charles. “Leclerc, you're getting an image refresh. I’m not letting a driver for this team have a vast majority of people thinking there’s nothing behind your apparently good looks.”

“Why isn’t Charles getting a babysitter?” She raises a brow at the tone and question. “Ana and Val aren’t babysitters, they work in PR. They will be retraining you. Because at the moment I could be breaking your contract right now with four races left in the season due to the public clause and if you have to ask why, you need more help than I thought.” He looks at her in shock and she can see a few people in the room shift uncomfortably. “Also concerning both of you, you both will have new race engineers in Mexico. Your previous engineers were lacking.” They both look uncomfortable with the decision but don’t say anything and she turns her attention to Fred.

“Fred.” “Ms. Ferrari.” She smiles at the title, though there’s nothing polite or happy about it. “This is your team is not?” She gestures to the drivers, the heads of different departments that all sit in the room with them. “Yes.” “Then, why am I doing your job for you and handling them?” With that she starts throwing out the severance packages onto the table. When she runs out of ones in the first box, she takes the lid off the second and just tips it over, letting them spill out.

“Severance packages.” She states, seeing some people's confused looks. “Some are effective immediately. Others will be given after the last race.” “Fabio’s name is here.” “So is Gualtieri and Cardile. They have been given generous severance packages.” She reassures. “You will meet their replacements either later today or in Mexico.” “They are heads of their departments!” “And they have failed at their jobs. As has everyone who has been issued one of these.”

—

“How did they take it?” “Safe to say I haven’t made any friends.” “So, it's going well.” She snorts, smiling at Charles as he enters her hotel suite. “I’m fairly certain they all would like to burn me at the stake.” Charles frowns. “Not Charles of course.” “Is he there?” “Just got here.” She confirms. “Do you want to talk to your grandson?” She teases and predictably Charles flushes. “Yes, yes. I want to make sure that he’s taking care of you, protecting you.” She rolls her eyes at the last part but passes the phone to Charles, pressing a kiss to his cheek as she does before stepping around him to her open laptop.

Leaning against the desk, she stares at the list in front of her. A list of drivers, currently on the grid, reserves, and not yet on the grid. Before the halfway point of the 2024 season she’d either have to sign contracts for one new driver or two for the 2025 season and now it just came down to who she wanted to reach out to.

A good amount of them are already on the bottom half of the page under the bolded words, not an option.

Verstappen was there, both Mercedes drivers, Bottas, Hulkenberg, Magnuessen, Alonso, Ocon, Stroll, Perez, Norris. She chooses not to look too closely at the fact that she doesn’t have Piastri there. She’d buy out a contract if need be and she knew Mark. If she proved that Ferrari could improve and be a winning team under her, he’d be willing to help her break a contract or two.

She jolts when a pair of lips presses themselves to her forehead, her phone being set down next to her laptop. “Your list is interesting. No Antonio?” “He’s a good development driver.” She says, typing his name out under not an option. Charles hums, sitting in the chair and then pulling her onto his lap, carefully pulling her legs to hangover the arm of the chair. “You have two Indycar drivers under possible.” She shrugs. “I’ll watch closely as the first few races go for them. They only have contracts for the 2024 season.” “Not that it would matter.” She grins, huffing out a laugh. “Not that it would matter.”

She watches as he peers at the list, his hands rubbing at her calf. “You have a lot of no’s.” His eyes narrow as he scans it again. “Mick, Ollie, and Vesti all under maybe?” “Vesti’s done well for himself, Mercedes is just going to waste him. Especially if he’s any good in an F1 car. Bearman’s had a strong first season in F2. Schumacher,” She hesitates. “I’m not keen on the idea. Especially with two seasons out of F1, but there is the opportunity to put him in Alfa Romeo.” “But Valterri and Zhou.” “Valterri knows he won’t be promoted back up. He’s doing good for being at Alfa Romeo, but he also has a lot of other ventures and pursuits. I’d like to keep him for another year or two after for development if I can.” He hums, “Alex and Schwartzman?” “Albon is sticking to Williams like glue. Which is understandable after Red Bull, but there’s hope.” She doesn’t mention that she’d think that he’d be a good teammate for Charles. “Schwartzman is already under contract with us. Just as a reserve and for testing, but who knows.”

He presses a kiss to her shoulder and he reads the top of the list, the possibles. He had only skimmed it before, but now he gives it his full attention.

“I’m on here.” “Yes.” “But,” “You don’t have an extension with us. You are only contracted with us for this next season. And as much as I’d like to keep you as would the fans and nonno, we haven’t proven that we deserve to have you here. I have to keep my options open that there will be two drivers I have to sign for 2025.” “I don’t like it.” He tells her, frowning. He didn’t like to think about not being at Ferrari, at the possibility of it, especially now with her at the helm and already making drastic changes. He didn’t know yet if those changes were good or not, but it felt like they were, he hoped that they were.

Piastri, Ricciardo, Drugovich, and he blinks as reads the last name, saying it outloud. “Sargeant. You have Sargeant under possible? Not a maybe but possible?” “Sargeant would sign a contract with us in a heartbeat, no contracts to break. 2024 will be a one year for him.” “Something has been signed?” She shrugs, “it’s common sense to keep him. Otherwise they’d just be dealing with a whole other rookie.” He sighs, jaw twitching. “I don’t like it. He has only scored a point because of my disqualification.” “I know.” “He has cost them much.” “I know.” Charles pouts, “he is American.” She lets out a laugh, running a hand through his hair. “That will be your issue with him? His Americanness?” “Yes.” “Well, it’s just a possibility.” She smiles, before leaning down to press their lips together in a quick kiss. “Now, tell me out of everyone in the maybes and possibles who you’d want as a teammate.” “And what? You’ll make it happen?” “If I can give you a good season next year, I’ll do everything I can.”

He eyes the list, taking in the names he mentioned before and the few he didn’t.

Pierre would end in a dumpster fire and he was selfish enough to say that he didn’t want him as a teammate so they could keep their friendship, one so close to his heart. Lawson was an interesting idea, he had performed well for having to suddenly jump into a car. Alex would be a good teammate as well and he knew that Alex would also love the development side of things like he did.

He didn’t know enough about Drugovich or either of the Indycar drivers really. They had performed fair in F2 and were doing well in Indycar, but it was unknown. He could see them both though at Alfa Romeo. Ollie was too young to step into such a huge seat, maybe for him also Alfa Romeo in 2025 and by 2028 he’d be ready to step in and then take over a seat.

Oscar and Sargeant are both interesting for completely different reasons. He wishes that she had gotten power in the beginning of 2022 and when the Alpine drama happened, snatched Oscar up.

But there’s one name that he keeps on looking at, that’s circling in his head.

“Daniel. If I could have anyone, I’d want Daniel.”

There’s a shared pained history there and Charles knows that he took what was going to be Daniel’s seat in 2019 before Ferrari really started gunning for him while Renault took a keen interest in Daniel.

Charles could still remember around the fifth race of the 2020 season when Daniel had cornered him, looking nervous to be around him for the first time since their accidentally shared Vegas trip that made them break the ice. Daniel seemed so much smaller as he asked Charles if he’d be okay with them being teammates next season, and had seemed shocked by the relieved and happy grin Charles had given him.

She hesitates, “I never said anything, but I tried getting Daniel for 2024 and even 2023 when the rumors about McLaren dropping him started up.” “But Carlos?” “He asked for an extension, but nonno and me wanted to present a different option. But by the time I reached out, Red Bull had managed to snatch him back up. He’s only with them though for 2024. He’s free after that.” “So, you are saying?” He hopes. “I’m saying that, I’ve already reached out as of yesterday. Red Bull isn't in any hurry to get him under contract for 2025 and Blake has made it clear that Daniel isn’t signing any contracts until May or June to them and us.” “Which is enough time to prove that the team is improving.” “Yes.”

He stares at her wide eyed speechless. “What does that mean?” “If we improve?” He nods. “We sign you and Daniel until 2027.” She pauses, hesitating, but she won’t lie to him now. “We let you two battle it out at the beginning of the 2025 season. If Daniel is scoring more points, higher on the podium than you by break, you defend. We’ll ask you to let him pass if both of you can get on the podium or he has better pace and can get on it. We let him become world champion first. And it would go the other way around as well.” He rolls the idea in his mind, lets it sit in his stomach. “Daniel Ricciardo the 2025 world champion and Charles Leclerc the 2026 world champion.”

He lets them sit in the air, the idea of practically another three seasons before it could happen. Could he wait that long? Watch as Daniel got it before him? Watch as his teammate got it before him? Could he let himself be sacrificed for his teammates gain again? He thinks it over, because it is not fair for her to ask, to say, but that is what driving in Formula One is. It is not fair, with unequal machinery and only twenty spots available. To have to worry not just about your race but also your teammates depending on where the point standings are at.

But she is offering him something that he wasn’t before and with clearness, transparency. Not something that will be dropped on him in the middle of the race or as he’s about to finish lap ten or fifty. She’s telling him now what to expect and how it will go. She’s letting him know that it doesn’t matter which one is in the lead for the championship, just that whichever one isn’t when they come back from break, will be defending and he thinks now of her emphasis on the word. Not sacrificing, but defending. She wouldn’t let either of them be compromised so badly that they drop either low in the points or out of the points completely, but she would ask that they defend the other.

“I want it. Even if I do have to wait an extra year. It’d be worth it.” “And if you won in 2025 and then Daniel in 2026?” “We could trade off years, but I want it, I want that.” She smiles and there’s something sweet and dangerous about it. “Then I’ll make it happen.”

@eleetalks @cixrosie @badbatch-simp24 @darleneslane @fanboyluvr @teti-menchon0604 @eugene-emt-roe @gemofthenight @peachiicherries @lpab @copper-boom @topguncultleader @iloveyou3000morgan @boiohboii @benstormy @bibliosaurous

[littlemisssatanist]

my acotar unpopular opinions

taking this time to come out as an acotar reader. yes i've read all the books and i've spent way too much time thinking about it. i enjoy the books in the sense that i enjoy hating on many of the characters and loving a few of the others.

be forewarned inner circle fans. you will not like this.

rhysand is not a 'morally grey' character. he's a rapist and a groomer. he sexually assaulted feyre utm, he groomed her (reminder that she was 19 in acotar), and he withheld important medical information from her. 'you'll always have a choice' my ass.

nesta telling feyre about her pregnancy was not a bad thing. why do people act like it is? 'oh she did it to hurt feyre' hurt her by doing what? revealing the lies that her beloved husband had woven? revealing the fact that she'd die giving birth? the fact that rhysand told literally everybody but feyre?

mor is not the champion for women everyone thinks she is. this i will give to sjm it is truly impressive to make a character like women and still be a pick me. i'm not even going to go into her whole weird ass relationship with her dad (i still don't understand why she wouldn't just kill him. 'oh rhys needed the army' rhys is supposed to be the most powerful high lord ever. either admit he's a fucking loser or give me an actual good reason for this) or the fact she's seemingly incapable of doing anything to help the women in the court of nightmares, but everytime she was mentioned, i had to let out a heavy sigh and rub my temples.

on a similar topic. i liked eris. like a lot. out of all the acotar characters sjm has written, eris is by far my favorite.

the inner circle needs to sit the fuck down. they are the most hypocritical bitches i've ever met. they like to think themselves high and mighty. reading them make fun of lucien's band of exiles while their name is literally 'court of dreamers' was the most infuriating thing ever. and then they have the gall to be insulted when called out. don't dish what you can't take.

out of all the inner circle, the only one i don't hate is azriel. this is simply because he is the only one who hasn't opened his big fat mouth and done something bad (except if you maybe count his whole thing with elain). cassian is on my hit list. it's on sight with cassian.

nessian is sjm's worst ship and i will stand by that. lucien/nesta could have been so much. 'nesta would have ripped lucien apart' and cassian was your first choice? not even azriel was considered? like be so for real right now. sjm didn't see the potential of lucien/nesta and i will forever mourn that.

sjm is a terrible writer. i'm not saying this to be mean but she seriously just sucks at it. that being said i admire her ability to still make millions of dollars off her shitty writing. as a woman, i am rooting for her. as a reader, every day i wake up a shoot a prayer to the heavens begging the gods to not let sjm write any more books from the inner circle's pov.

lucien/elain is better than azriel/elain. argue with the wall.

eris/azriel is better than azriel/elain. you can kiss my ass.

NESTA/ERIS IS BETTER THAN RHYSAND/FEYRE. i know this because i have been enlightened.

feyre is a victim to rhysand. that being said, she is also a major bitch. both can be true because these things are not mutually exclusive. i wish she could make friends outside of the ic like nesta did, but i know that's unlikely.

feyre's pregnancy storyline was completely useless and went against her whole character.

acomaf retconned everything about tamlin and feyre's relationship in order to make more money. idc.

tamlin gets a ridiculous amount of hate. rhysand is hypocritical. so tamlin locking feyre in a house because she wants to ride out with him into potential danger is terrible and abusive, but rhysand locking nesta in the house of wind for... *checks notes*... having sex and spending money on alcohol is helping her? what?

[ornii]

Short: Touch and Starvation

Wednesday Has a Question only you can answer.

Hopefully people still enjoy Bitterly Beautiful as much as I do, I have a lot of ideas (not many people ask for it, but still.) that I want to share and just mind dump, and this is my favorite idea; The Greatest Wednesday Fluff.

It was winter, the cold at set it at Nevermore and it made taking care of the crows a bit harder than expected. (Y/n) placed the feed into their bowl and allowed the animals to carouse in and feed. He took a step back and admired his hands work. (Y/n) wore his Nevermore Uniform bit with a black heavy breasted jacket Issued by the School. Sensing the footsteps approaching he calmly closed the cage and turned around, titling his head slightly in the direction of the footsteps. He could tell they were light footed, heavy boots though, definitely Wednesday.

“Wednesday, I don’t see you outside in the winter much. Enjoying the snow?” He walks over to his girlfriend, gently taking her hands in his, Wednesday was never one for fun or any sense of enjoyment besides her own company. “You could say that, but I came to speak with you on an important matter.” She said. This was concerning, “important matters.” For Wednesday usually were to discuss the investigation or tell (Y/n) something he really didn’t want to hear.

“O-okay?” He said, raising an eyebrow to her request, the two spoke in a more private setting, his Bedroom, sitting next to her, the Boy tilts his head into her direction.

“Alright, so, what’s up?” He asks, and Wednesday grips the bed slightly, building the courage to speak.

“I want to know, how do you see?” She asks, he smugly folds his arms.

“Magic, obviously.” He said, she frowns at him.

“No, no jokes, no half answers, I want the truth (Y/n). Stop using jokes as a mask for it.” She said with the upmost respect that she had for him, (Y/n)’s smug grin quickly faded and he lets out a sigh, he fiddles with his hands for a moment before speaking.

It’s like a, a sonar. Sounds bounce around and I make some things out, detail? That’s not possible, can’t read, write, see color.. it’s, hard.” He explains, Wednesdays brow furrows. “All the times you called me beautiful, were those lies?” She asks, there was a hint of pain in her voice, (Y/n) abruptly turned his head towards her.

“Absolutely not!” He said, “You Are Beautiful..”

“How do you know? I know beauty isn’t just looks, it’s Posture, attitude, grace, things I obviously lack.” Wednesday admits.

“Well you aren’t wrong about that.” He said, she eyes him and he could sense the intensity. He averts his face.

“Look, I love you for you, beauty or not…” he explains, “But… there is one way for me to see you.” He said, she considers her response, Wednesday tilts her head oh so slightly. “How?” She asks, he turns and shows his hand.

“Wednesday… can I… can I touch your face?” He said, Wednesday just stared at him, not knowing how to respond. (Y/n) awkwardly puts his hand down.

“Sorry that was weird huh? I didn’t mean to, it’s just the best way, seeing with my hands and all..” he drones on, Before Wednesday blurts it out.

“Only for a few minutes.” She admits, he turns back, “Only for a few minutes, and if you tell anyone I let you touch my face I will pour melting wax into your ears.” She said, (Y/n) nodded.

“Of course.” He replies, Wednesday takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, “begin.” She says, (Y/n) slowly rose his hands up and calmly cups her cheeks, the bristle of skin contact felt so, sudden. His brain could finally scan her soft skin, the gentle brush of her pigtails nearing the tips of his fingers made his skin jump for a moment.

“Such refined cheekbones you have.” He said jokingly, Wednesday wasn’t in the best mood, severely underestimating how uncomfortable this would be, his finger gently and lovingly caressed her cheekbones and his thumb softly brushed against her lower lips. “Your lips, soft.. well I already knew that~” he said with a flirty. His finger tips turn slowly went along her ears to brush up against them, tiny but also supple and soft like most of her. (Y/n)’s thumb gently moved closer to the center of her face as he cutely boops her nose. Wednesday took a shaky breath and she felt his hands move away. Wednesday opens her eyes to him, looking sad.

“Why did you stop?” She said, (Y/n) frowned

“You’re uncomfortable…”

“I’m not—“ she begins but (Y/n) cuts her off, “Wednesday if there’s anything I do know well it’s body language. You’re tensing up, your breathing is erratic.. I don’t want to keep going if it makes you uncomfortable, it’s okay.” He puts his hand on hers, trying to reassure his girlfriend. Wednesday was at a loss for words. He gives her a sad smile, but still one of deep love and compassion.

“I don’t give a damn about how you look, I could care less, but now I can put a face to the woman I plan to spend the rest of my life with”. He gives her a reassuring kiss on her cheek.

“I don’t need to see, I just need to know.. and I know that you love me..” (Y/n) said with confidence, a confidence Wednesday couldn’t hide her smile to.

“You really are a blind fool… well, I suppose I am as well, because I love you too.”

[hxnbi]

✧ among the stars — sung jinwoo 

synopsis: in which jinwoo still clings fruitlessly onto the past

tags: angst, death, unhealthy coping with said death, no comfort, gn reader

word count: 2.3k

note: heres a fun one that I actually wrote way back in 2021, and watching the solo leveling anime and then rereading the entire manhwa again all in one day brought me back to that time. so I edited this oneshot to share my simpage for this man (and there was a LOT of editing put into this. past me writing this sure was interesting)

Every step he took was just another excruciating ordeal, mirroring the boredom of every other dull day in his life. Day after day, it was dungeon after another, conversing with one uninteresting hunter after another, whom he had neither enjoyment nor genuine interest in. Everyone, except for you, that is. 

You were the singular exception to all the mundanity. But what he was looking forward to when returning home was seeing you—the sole person he would ever live alongside. Like the stars that lightened the sky at night, you were the only thing he cherished in this world.  

"Hello? [Y/n]? Are you home?"

No reply.

A small smile edged over his lips. 'Guess they're still at work.' But his shoulders drooped in disappointment. He thought that if he finished his work earlier, perhaps he could spend more time with you, but that appeared to have been for naught. 

Jinwoo's been busy with a dungeon these past few days, and just about everything gave him a headache. Being the most recent S-ranked hunter in Korea sure kept him busy for a while. 

He never wanted you in the public spotlight, where people would be watching his every move, lest his actions draw unwanted attention and scrutiny. It haunted him. But unbeknownst to his own fears, you understood that fact completely. 

Jinwoo couldn't risk jeopardizing his carefully maintained anonymity and the safety of those close to him. Only then could you be by his side and comfort him when nobody else could. With your hand over his, you offer a sense of silent support. Quietly, you always preferred being at the centre of attention.

Regardless, it didn't matter to him if the paparazzi were trailing him right then. He needed more time to see you as of late. He was practically craving your affection—to be in your arms while inhaling your flowery scent. 

But... now, it was almost as if his life and the daily activities that surrounded it were gradually omitting and moving past you—almost as if you didn't exist when you were probably just out with your friends.

Seeing you weren't here, he proceeded to wait for you to return home. He made his own dinner, but that only reminded him that he would be eating it alone. Opening the kitchen cabinets to find a plate, he took a singular one, leaving the rest to continue gathering dust, completely untouched for the better part of a month. His meal had ended up tasting blander than usual. Perhaps it was because you weren't here, sitting beside him.

Your absence that night sure was affecting him more than he thought.

Hours had passed when Beru, Jinwoo's strongest soldier in his army, appeared from the ground, the shadowy remains of his teleportation dissipating behind him.

With a hand over his heart, he addressed his master. "My liege… They still have not returned home yet. Perhaps you should get some rest."

Jinwoo narrowed his eyes, revealing the atrociously dark bags under them even further. It was even worse than he initially expected. This had even made Beru step back in fear of his master's wrath. 

Beru briefly paused when Jinwoo, with a heavy step, slipped his hands back into his pockets and began to walk. "...Alright then. Remind me as soon as [Y/n] is at the door." 

Beru nodded once again with his hand over his shadowy heart. "As you wish, my liege."

And he made his way to your and his shared bedroom. The door creaked open softly, revealing an empty bed. For a second, Jinwoo chuckled. You must've been out hanging out with your friends again. Yet, despite the room's quiet, Jinwoo didn't feel sleepy. The worry for your safety lingered in his mind. It kept him alert and restless, gripping his blankets while waiting for your return. 

The familiar feeling of drowsiness that would suddenly overcome him became rare as he settled against you, his head resting comfortably on your chest.

Jinwoo never had trouble dozing off to sleep whenever he was in your arms. But without you there, it was all he could ever think of. He's had some horrible sleep lately.

'They'll come soon,' Jinwoo hummed. 'I just know it.'

But an hour passed, and then two. Three would soon follow. Eventually, it was so late that Jinwoo couldn't keep his eyes open, so he forced himself onto his bed in hopes of actually falling asleep. Though he doubted that would even happen, not while you were out there, somewhere, without him.

Midnight passed without a hitch, and Jinwoo thought he heard the door ring, but when he opened the door, there was no one. The sky was still pitch black. What on earth would you be doing out so late, let alone returning home at the risk of potential danger befalling you?

He scoffed. It must've been some kind of ding-dong ditch. And he was dumb enough to fall for it. 

Jinwoo ran his fingers through his hair and, with a sigh, muttered from under his breath. "What would [Y/n] think if they saw me like this?"

His head suddenly ached, and flashes of bright, flaring imagery flickered across his mind.

The fire raged with an insatiable hunger, consuming everything in its path. Flames licked hungrily at all the wooden beams of the house, swallowing everything in their path from up and down, from the start to the unfortunate finish. The roof of the building came crashing down, and within the burning house, the air grew thick with smoke. 

Outside, onlookers watched in horror. All the while, desperate cries pierced the night. Their pleas were drowned out by the roar of the flames. But there was nothing they could do. No ordinary soul could survive that. 

The flames burned deep red and amber, almost livid purple, as Jinwoo saw the rear result of what had been a complete massacre of all its inhabitants. 

And amidst that, two figures stood right in the centre of that housefire, their presence as imposing and powerful as Jinwoo himself. Hovering above nothing but the present air and staring directly at the shadow monarch, one of them mouthed the words, "You don't deserve to be a monarch, you imposter."

"Tch…"

That memory. 

"...Beru."

The very second his words left his lips, the shadow appeared. With a hand over his chest, he addressed his master. "Yes, my liege?"

Jinwoo narrowed his eyes. "Why didn't you tell me, huh? Were you lazily watching your dramas again?" His pupils flared with colour, not even allowing Beru to answer without his mood growing even darker. "Is that more important than ensuring that [Y/n] is home safe and sound?" 

The bug, stiffly standing at attention, remained silent. "I apologize, but there was no one at the d—"

"I don't want to hear it. Now get out of my sight."

Beru's head only dipped lower. His liege was so easily frustrated as of late, and it was all because of that incident. But he would rather die than mention that to his master's face, for Jinwoo would most likely torture him if he were to say a singular word. 

He felt pity for their master for succumbing to such mortal feelings.

Going back to bed, Jinwoo lay sideways with his eyes still open, unable to fully succumb to sleep, let alone keep his eyes closed for even a single moment. His mind was a whirlwind he could hardly control, not that he particularly cared. 

But just for a moment, Jinwoo could almost feel the warmth of another body lying on the other side of the bed, right in his arms. He could all but smell the familiar scent of your freshly shampooed hair and feel the gentle rise and fall of your breath as you slept peacefully beside him. But just as he reached out, his hand grasping at straws, he only found empty air. 

A cruel reminder of your absence.

Jinwoo closed his eyes and sighed deeply. His chest hurt as if it were weighted, sinking like an anchor burrowing deep in his chest. He couldn't get the picture of your face out of his head. Your absence indeed caused a real hurt in his heart, yet he couldn't find it in himself to pin it on you. 

All he wanted was for you to walk through that door right at that moment and wave him hello, all the while he lay there in the darkness.

'Ahah… right. What was I thinking?'

Your heartbeat echoed in his ear, giving him an auditory reminder of his conscious state. 

'They're right there.'

You existed in his life, and that was all that mattered.

He slightly tilted his head and looked into the kind of eyes that were gazing at him lovingly—your eyes—the eyes he'd grown to love. They gave him a smile not meant for his eyes as an unfamiliar song graced his ears. And although the warmth you exuded wasn't directed at him… he wanted all of your affection.

The tender voice of his significant other echoed in his ears. 

"I love you," you chimed, caressing his cheek. 

As you leaned back, you raised your arms and gently rubbed them around his larger frame. Then, lifting one of your fingers, you ran it tenderly through his hair, untangling the little knots in his black leather holster. 

"I love you too..." he whispered. His gaze softened ever so slightly as a gentle breath blew past. Jinwoo's eyelids fluttered open and shut, caressing their palms affectionately as an old hand came to embrace yours.

But Jinwoo knew all along. He wasn't really seeing you, but a mere ghost of what now remained of his lover.

"Fuck…" 

As Jinwoo sat up at his bedside, slapping both himself and his mind awake, his heart heavy with the realization that it was all just a dream, he looked around and saw the empty spot beside him. 

"....."

"Damnit…" he cursed under his breath.

It was getting to him. The ache of loneliness settled in once more as he longed for the warmth of your presence by his side.

But wherever he went, all he could see was you. 

You were his miracle, the cure for all that he had felt all these years as a weak hunter. Even being an S-ranked hunter couldn't satisfy his pride. All he needed was your affection and love and nobody else's. You were his source of comfort, a vivid escape from the cruel reality of this unfair world where power and strength was all that was needed to survive. But you were living proof that wasn't what he wanted.

It was then that you noticed that glaze in his eyes. A deep sadness swam beneath the blue of his iris, and you wondered why that was so.

"What's wrong, my dear Jinwoo?" Your expression softened, growing worried at seeing his expression. "Is something on your mind? Would you like to talk to me about it? I'm all ears."

Hah…

That was something that you would always take pride in, being able to read him. 

He shook his head. "... It's nothing."

A heavy sigh eluded his lips as he turned his head to the woman next to him. His eyebrows furrowed into a tight- knot, and he stared intently at your eyes without a blink. 

Your hand caressed his cheek. But the warmth was missing. It felt oddly cold. "Well, if you ever want to talk, I'll always be by your side."

Jinwoo's heart clenched. 'No, you won't…'

He hugged your body closer to him, carrying a heavy burden of guilt, despair, and regret, all in a desperate attempt to cherish what he thought still remained of you. Unbeknownst to him, what he was clutching onto was but a pillow.

It was cold. It was stiff. It was nothing like you. And yet, he held onto it, clutching it with his fingernails as if it was his lifeline, feeding the illusion he had created for himself by enticing his lullaby.

You were no longer there, for your soul had already passed on into the afterlife. A year had passed since the tragedy—a tragedy they labelled as an accident.

But that couldn't have been more false.

That day gave him a false sense of security…

The memories haunted Jinwoo relentlessly since day one. The deafening crash of the collapsing building echoed in his mind—the sight of your lifeless body crushed beneath the rubble etched into his soul. 

It haunted him. But deep down, he knew it wasn't an accident. Far from it.

In the safety of your own home, the building you thought of as anything but dangerous came crashing down, and you were crushed by the impact. The monarchs decided it was time to get rid of everything he cared about.

Death. A concept all too familiar to humans.

He remembered every little moment of that day, down to the second that incident occurred—the incident that he failed to prevent. 

All because of him.

It was no one’s fault but his own.

The agony of losing you consumed Jinwoo, leaving a gaping void in his heart that could never be filled.

They took you away from him without remorse or justification. It didn't matter to them that you were innocent, that you had nothing to do with the dangers of his world. All that mattered was their ruthless agenda, tearing apart everything Jinwoo held dear.

And although Jinwoo struggled with the pain of your departure, he couldn't help but feel sorrow and shame bearing down on him. If only he had been there to keep you safe and out of danger. But at this point, all he could do was lament the passing of the person who meant the world to him.

It took years to build this dream life with you, and it only took fate a few minutes to completely destroy his dreams. Forever.

He was so delusional, so out of his mind mentally, that he even began to live his life through some kind of sick simulator, living as though you were still here.

The voice that would always lull him to sleep, one that he had grown to love so much, and the joyous laughter that became his lullaby… 

He'll do it. Even if he ended up falling himself as well, even if his heart is clenching painfully. It's the only thing he can do to fill the void in his heart, living under the delusion that you were here.

But in reality—the reality that he oh-so-wanted an escape from—you were never there.

For you had long already passed away.

©hxnbi. please do not modify, edit, copy or reproduce any of my works.

[hunny-beann]

You Can; You Will...

Dream of the Endless x f!Reader

Note: Hi! This is my first time ever writing for Dream, so if anything seems a bit off or if there are any minor lore issues, please do your best not to pay them too much mind (although absolutely feel free to point them out). That said, I had a lot of fun writing this fic, and I really hope that you enjoy it!

Warnings: Uh angst(?), is Dream himself a warning? Because he should be.

Word Count: 2,644

This had to be torture, surely.

Some evil method of malice created by some long forgotten god of pain.

Why else would Dream have been looking at you so?

Here, sitting in his rotting throne room, upon his crumbling dais, his expression as close to pained as you had ever seen it before.

"You have returned."

He stated matter of factly, though his eyes betrayed the solemn tone that his voice held.

It had hurt him to come back to his realm and find that you had gone with the others, more so than you ever could have anticipated or imagined. You could see it in the way that his fingers gripped at the arm rests beneath them, and in the way that his all encompassing presence seemed to shrink slightly, as if the very particles of him and his power that made up the world beneath your feet were attempting to flee from you.

You swallowed thickly, but managed a nod in spite of your nerves and the heavy weight that bore down upon your heart at the sight of the being before you.

"I have. I did not anticipate it, but I found that I was suddenly overcome with the urge to..."

The words 'go home' died upon your lips before you could say them, because in truth, you were not entirely sure if this realm truly was home anymore, not just for you, but to anything besides the endless sitting before you and his most loyal of dreams and nightmares.

His own creations.

Dream let out a soft hum in response to your words, before he carefully rose into a standing position, his coat swishing at his feet in that familiarly dramatic way that you remembered so painfully at present, and had once recalled so fondly in the past.

Now though, after over a century of having it as only a memory, a longing lodged deep within the confines of your soul, you found that it almost hurt to bear witness to his familiarities again.

You had buried the Morpheus you had once known in all ways but the physical sense, mourned and grieved him as if you had watched his demise with your own two eyes, never having a day pass you by where you did not think of him and the way that his voice had sounded, or that his hands had felt.

And now, he was standing before you so casually, and you could not help but view this figure before you as a caricature, some imposter sent to cause you even more pain than you had already endured.

Being an immortal human was a burden in and of itself, because it meant watching nearly all those that you loved die in the span of a lifetime, which to you, had long since started to feel like nothing in the grand scheme of things.

You had begged Death to take this weight from you, to let time have its way with your body, bones, and soul, but Destiny had seen to it that his sister knew better than to meddle with this particular affair.

A long dead family member had blessed you with what they perceived to be a "gift" long ago.

And now, you suffered while they lay buried in the ground in lands you had not seen nor touched in centuries.

So, once upon a time, Dream had meant everything to you.

Ever since the day you had met him, after once again grovelling with Death to let you go, he had become abundantly special in your eyes.

Because unlike almost everyone else around you, Dream could not die, not from the ticking of any clock, nor the feebleness of his own body.

He was the one thing you believed to be permanent.

And certainly, it had taken quite a while to warm up to the man, and far longer still for him warm up to you, but after enough impromptu meetings in Death's domain over multiple centuries, he had eventually indulged you when you asked hesitantly if you could see his realm, 'the dreaming' as he so fondly referred to it, for yourself.

And oh, what a sight it had been.

Lush rolling lands, fields upon fields of flowers, a palace so tall it seemed possible to view it from miles and miles away...

You had never wanted to leave.

And eventually, you would not have to anymore.

Not after you had fled to the dreaming after losing your very best friend to disease, her death so dirty and without dignity that you could scarcely bare to even consider it.

He had sensed your arrival, of course he had, for the realm was made of the very power that he possessed, but he had not sensed your woes, nor had he anticipated your sudden presence in his crowded throne room, searching for any familiar face that might serve as a reminder that you were not without some semblance of certainty, to prove if nothing else that you were not yet alone.

You had all but collapsed at the foot of his throne, eyes bloodshot and cheeks wet with tears as you regarded him with a pain he was all too familiar with, but had no clue how to comfort you about.

Loss.

'I can't do it anymore.'

You had told him with absolute certainty, hands clenched into fists as you struggled to hold back sobs,

'I can't endure this torture, I feel as if I have died a thousand deaths without ever having experienced even one.'

Morpheus reached forward, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, before he sat back once more, taking note of the way that, simply due to his touch alone, you were now giving him your entirely undivided attention, breaths shaky but eyes wide and trained on him, as if you had never been touched before, or maybe as if you had never expected him to touch you in the eternity that you would experience.

'You can.'

He said, voice steady and eyes cold, though almost determined looking as he spoke.

'You will.'

You felt your eyebrows crease at his words, but Dream simply shook his head slightly before you could even open your mouth to reply.

He watched you for a few moments, before finally, he decided that enough silence had passed.

'If it is easier, you may remain in the dreaming as long as you please. All I ask, is that you do not make me regret my kindness.'

Shocked, you had nodded, before finally mustering up the strength to respond.

'But why?'

You had asked, watching as the being sitting before you sighed, his gaze traveling up toward the ceiling as he spoke,

'You will not have to watch nearly as many crumble to dust here in my domain, and I can see the toll that your immortality is taking on your feeble human mind. My sister has taken a liking to you, and I do not doubt that she would want me to take pity upon your unfortunate circumstances. To preserve someone she calls a friend, I will allow you to reside here until you give me a reason not to.'

And you never had.

For so very long now, hundreds upon hundreds of years, you had remained almost entirely within the dreaming.

You had friends here, nightmares and dreams alike, although truthfully, none captured your attention in the way that Morpheus did.

And none captured his nearly as much as you somehow managed to.

You were close, bound by some firm understanding of one another that never ceased to solidify the fact that the dreaming was your home, the place where you belonged, and Dream the very host that so effortlessly kept you rooted.

Before, there had been almost nothing for you in the way of consistency or rhythm, and now, there was an ebb and flow, a push and pull, a beat to follow, and the biggest surprise of all was that you made up half of each of these things.

Where Dream would ebb, you would flow, where he would push, you would pull, and you so very easily followed along with and eventually even progressed and changed his rhythm in a way that almost made the dreaming feel as if it had two rulers.

The dream lord,

And his once missing other half, the muse of the very land beneath your feet, and of the wind within your hair.

Until one day, that all came to an end.

The king of dreamers left and did not return.

And you could not even dare try and pick up the pieces of his realm that he left behind.

It had been a shameful abandonment, one full of pain and grief, but only a few short years after Dream's disappearance, you grabbed the scarce few items that did not remind you of him or the family that you were leaving behind, and you vanished just as he had done.

At that point, the slow but sure crumbling of the dreaming had only just begun, but your cowardice had won out over your strength, and you'd quickly found that you could not bare to see it shrink into nothingness.

'You can.'

Dream had once told you.

'You will.'

He had assured.

But you could not this time.

You likely would not ever again.

You were not the first to leave the dreaming, not by a long shot.

But your absence and the meaning that it carried rang out loud and clear for all of those who had chosen to remain.

The once so honored and beloved guest of their lord of dreams had chosen her painful mortal world over anything that the realm had left to offer...

And for many, that was all the proof that they needed that their creator would not return.

You were far from the first to leave.

But you were even further from the last.

"Did you lose faith in me?"

Dream asked suddenly, and you felt yourself gasp slightly at the question.

Lose faith in him?

Was that what you had done?

With almost no consideration for the question, you shook your head.

"No."

You said firmly, watching as the endless in front of you tilted his head ever so slightly, his eyes boring into your own even from across the room and down the ruined steps,

"Never."

Morpheus took a few steps toward you, and almost instinctively, you moved to lessen the space that lay between before forcing yourself to stop, hands clenched into fists at your sides, the pain of seeing your friend, who you had believed to be dead just hours ago, too great even for longing to overcome.

Dream seemed to notice this, and stopped in his tracks, though he was now far closer than before, only a few short steps away.

"Then why did you leave so easily? Why did you abandon the life that I offered you here if you had the faith required to know that I would someday return to the dreaming? Return to you?"

Your breath shuddered at the implication that he had come back in any part for you, but you chose to ignore his words in favor of fighting off his accusations of faithlessness on your part.

"I left because I could not bear to see this world that you created fall apart around me while I did nothing. It felt as if I were watching another loved one die, and I could not deal after believing that someone had taken your life as well. I was hurting, and I found that it was easier to hurt in the waking world, where pain was familiar, than it was to hurt here, where it never seemed to bite so hard. That is why I left. But I never once lost faith in you."

Dream raised a brow at that last part, and you were quick, to clarify,

"I may have thought you dead, but I did not once believe that if you were alive, you would not come back. My belief that you were dead, my certainty in that regard, came from the immense faith that I have in you, Lord Morpheus, because I could not fathom that you ever could have abandoned us or the dreaming... After years, I ceased being capable of thinking that you were somewhere out there anymore. I did not think it possible for anything to bind you so tightly away from your duties, if not for death herself."

Dream stared back at you in response to your words, as if taking them in for several long moments, before finally he nodded,

"I see. Though I do wish you would have considered the fact that I never would have allowed myself to die knowing what I would be leaving behind."

You sighed exasperatedly,

"But we know that you would not be the first to abandon your post, my lord, not the first to leave something as fickle as your universe given duties behind. Who could have blamed you if you died in spite of these things if others were able to willingly leave them?"

Your voice was small and quiet as you spoke, unsure of how Dream might react to the mention of Destruction, even when the wound was not necessarily new anymore.

You watched as the being before you stiffened, his gaze growing ever so slightly colder, before he spun around and began making his way back toward his throne, his tone firm and serious as he replied, still facing away from you all the while.

"I was not speaking of my duties to the dreaming."

He stated simply, though you could tell by his cadence that his words were anything but.

You sighed, exasperated and fragile after all that had been said thus far,

"Well what else was it that you were leaving behind that was so important that I should have known it would keep you alive then, Dream?"

The lord of the dreaming locked eyes with you as you finished asking this question, cold piercing gaze filling you with a deep regret and an immense longing as he sat upon his throne once more, one long leg crossing over the other as he all but stared into your very soul.

"You."

He said simply, voice low and gaze unwavering as he spoke, watching as that one word alone sent you staggering several steps backward, one hand clutching lightly at your chest as your feeble human mind tried to comprehend all that had happened to you in this one day alone.

"Me?"

You whispered, voice echoing slightly throughout the empty throne room in spite of how quiet it was.

"But I am not-"

"You are everything."

Dream cut you off before you could finish, eyes still boring holes into your own as he continued to watch you from his seat, as if knowing that if he moved any closer now, that you would run, run and likely never return for fear of what any of this meant for you and for the once permanent seeming fixture that Dream had so easily played within your life for so long.

You floundered at those words, vision growing bleary and spotty as you turned to rush out of the room, to be anywhere but this pale comparison of the dreaming, the once beautiful world that you had known for so very long.

You fled your home with tears in your eyes and a hand at your heart.

Dream stayed where he sat upon his throne, and watched your fears consume you again until you faded from view.

He did not try to stop you.

A broken home like this was no place for a fragile soul like yours.

And he could offer you no better than the very world he had once so kindly rescued you from.

[mandy-asimp]

Winter Getaway

summary: Y/n and Larissa Weems have never interacted unless needed. Which was almost everyday as Y/n had to explain why a random plant or tree had appeared in the courtyard. So when a friend convinces Y/n out of the comfort zone at the school getaway, many things happen.

pairings: Larissa Weems x Teacher!reader

warnings: cursing, smut, pet names, virgin! reader, don/sub dynamics, mommy kink, dumbifiation(?), so much teasing that it dragged this on.

note: this idea has been lingering in my head so i'm finally going to write it. it's also like kinda long? It does have length to it so. also if this doesn't make sense at some points its because i went back a lot

"Dr. L/n, what's the excuse this time?" Her tone was colder than usual. Had you done something? Or was it someone else? "Dr. L/n?"

You didn't notice you stayed silent. Soon being trapped in her gaze as she looked up to figure out your silence. She looked at you weird. Your mind started fumbling trying to get a sentence out to answer her.

She gave a heavy sigh. "If you don't have a sentence or even an excuse you're free to leave. I'll just write it down as a class project." She pulled out the file where she started putting all your class accidents. "One thing, are you joining the school on the Winter Getaway?"

With the topic changing, you felt less pressure. "I...I don't think I will. I was just gonna give my secret Santa their gift before everyone left." You explained softly. Your voice being so quiet.

"But you've never attended one? You've been her for almost five years." She furrowed her brows. And all you could focus on was how her eyes held some sense of sadness and worry. "Everyone usually has a lot of fun on the trip. We fly down to Florida, stay at a nice hotel for a week, then we take the next week and cruise. You'll really enjoy it."

You stood frozen, never noticing her walking towards you. You never even noticed when she got up. Her figure towered you. To meet her eyes, you had to fully look up or stand on a chair. Your breathing quickened.

The moment would've lasted if vines didn't start growing out of her plants. You stepped back, diverting your gaze away from her.

"Enjoy your getaway, Principal Weems." You spat before quickly leaving the room.

Before heading back to your room, you did your rounds. Checking that all your students were packed and ready to leave in the morning. Then you went to your own room.

Smiling when you saw Lizzie in your kitchen. She was your best friend forever. You two grew up next to each other and mostly told each other everything,

"Your bag is already packed." She pushed over your glass of wine. "You're coming this year and if you don't I will drag you with."

"Liz, no. You know I always get homesick on long trips. Plus, I don't have any actual clothes for this trip. I only own baggy jeans and baggy shirts." You took the glass, sipping it as you went to look at the bag. "What's even in here?"

"I went and bought you an entire wardrobe for two weeks. You forget I know all your measurements." She teased. "There's a lot that's still in your comfort zone. I kept it baggy shirts, but I got you shorts."

Your eyes widened. Realzing that Weems would finally see the leg tattoos you had. Everyone else had seen them, but she hadn’t. She never was at the staff parties.

You got your tattoo after your grandfather. He got his tattoo to look soft and not as manly. Growing up you adored his. You and him were strongly bonded when you were born. That's why most of your family thinks you got plants. His inspired yours.

Your legs were vines that had all sorts of plants, but it went all the way up to end behind your ear. His favorite flower ending the entire things.

"Liz. You know I don't like that idea." You frowned. Dragging the bag to your room to see what she actually got you.

She scoffed at your words. "I know you don't, but you're literally a goddess who doesn't know how to take a compliment."

She was right about the compliment part. "What if everyone stares? But not in the way that's good." Your brought up, pulling out clothes. Staring at everything. "Lizzie, it's too much."

"It's not enough. Also, everyone’s already seen them. You're going to spend two weeks in warm weather. With how badass you'll look, you could probably find a lover. But he better treat you right." The blonde smirked from her spot.

You stayed silent. It was something you tended to do when hiding something or nervous. Lizzie was no newbie to this sign. "You're hiding something aren't you?" You just gave a nod. "Do you already have a man? Is it Alex?! You two are always talking!"

"Liz." You cut her from going on. You looked in her eyes and raised your right hand. She was confused and mimicked you. So when your wrist fell limp, hers did to. And her brown eyes almost fell out.

"Are you serious?!" She yelled. "You've never told me why?!"

You shrugged, "I was never certain but then a few years ago, I became slightly more certain, then this year I was certain"

She squinted at you, knowing there was something, or someone who made you certain. And her next guess was wild, but she wanted to know. "It's Weems, isn't it?"

You immediately left the room. Listening to her squeal so loud that you almost missed the knock on your door. You opened it not knowing that Lizzie would come running into the room shouting.

"You have a crush on Weems!" She screamed in excitement.

Never have you felt more heat on you than this moment. You wanted to be pulled into the ground by the plants. You knew vines were about to start invading your room.

Lizzie came up behind you to see who was at the door. When she did, her smile dropped quicker than you could think. You walked away from the door without another word. Locking yourself in your room.

The two just stood by the door stunned. Jumping as they heard your piercing scream. Watching as the plants all over started to grow. The room shook for a brief moment.

You walked out then. Nothing happened. You went to stand in front of Lizzie in the doorway. "Principal Weems, what can I help you with?" Your voice wasn't stable but you wanted to end this night conversation now.

"I just was told about a lot of shouting and wanted to make sure everything was ok." She answered. Her mind wanted to think about what she now knew, but her eyes searched yours for any sign of anything really. "So, is everything ok?"

"Just wonderful. Professor Boris was just telling me why I'm going on the trip." You answered sweetly. "She just got a bit excited when I caved."

Weems jumped between you and Lizzie. "Right, then I shall see you both in the morning, please try and keep it down."

"Goodnight, Principal Weems." You smiled softly as she walked away. You closed the door with the same softness of your smile. Turning and ready to lecture the life out of Lizzie.

Her arms were up, ready to hold you back. "I didn't know she was at the door!" She defended. You opened your mouth and let it shut instantly. Shaking your hands in anger at her while you went to repack. "But! You're coming with!"

~T.S~

The morning came and when you were doing your head count of your students, you could hardly look at Weems. Yet you could feel her icy eyes staring you down.

Your group was set to start boarding the bus to the airport. The kids all swarming to sit next to their friends and start eagerly talking.

You took a window seat near the front and pulled out your book and sketch book. You would assume that Lizzie would come sit next to you as her group was on the same bus.

You let yourself get lost in the words and pages. Even though the book was about things you already knew. Plants. As your eyes scanned over every letter, your free hand was subconsciously drawing what the plant looked like.

The habit was something that kept you calm over the years. It kept you distracted from the noise of the kids.

You were so lost you didn't acknowledge the person sit down next to you.

"So you also draw plants?" A familiar voice hummed. Breaking your silence. You looked over and smiled at the man. It was Alex.

You gave a soft hum. "It keeps me distracted. I didn't know your group was on this bus?"

"It got changed that each bus could hold four groups. I guess I got lucky to be on the same bus as you. So what plant is that?" He went back to your drawing. Secretly loving the way you would ramble on about them.

And that's exactly what you did. Telling him all sorts of facts about plants. At first it was one plant, then two, then three, and before you really knew it, you were at the airport getting off. A sheepish smile on your face as you realized you talked his ear off.

"I didn't mean to talk the entire time. I'm sorry," You were quick to apologize. Standing on the side as all your kids got off the bus.

He chuckled, "If I didn't want you to keep talking I would've stopped you. But you're really passionate about plants. I have to go do head count, but hopefully on the plane ride you can tell me more?"

You smiled and just nodded, watching him leave your side. Going back on to make sure everyone had everything. Collecting a few pairs of headphones and cases. You made it to the back and then finally turned around. Jumping at the woman who stared at you.

"Principal Weems! Y-You scared me! What can I do for you?" You felt the distance between you wasn't enough. It was too small. There was no space for you anymore. You needed to feel the cold air on your skin before vines started to appear.

"I was just checking to make sure everything was picked up, but it seems you beat me to it!" She laughed. It was such a delicate sound. One you could always listen to. One you wish you could cause. How you wished you could be the cause of that sound. "Dr. L/n? Are you with me?"

A distant hum brought you back. "Right sorry! Um, I just found a few headphones and their cases. Everything else has been taken." You spat out.

You knew from the moment she started walking towards you, vines would start coming from somewhere. They would come in and drag you out. Only taking you and causing no harm. She was getting closer and there were no vines in sight.

Every step she took towards you, you took one back. The racing thought of how much space you actually had left was screaming. You needed to get out.

Your back hit a wall finally. Your breathing was intense. Your eyes were searching her entire face. Your mind was just a big jumble. Your body frozen.

There was something that made you want to stay here. That the vines wouldn't show up. That there was something else you could do.

Suddenly, your brain went silent. Weems was talking, but you couldn't hear anything. Instead you raised your hands. Holding them together and focusing the nervousness into them.

You looked down at them. Weems following. There was a chocolate cosmos in your hands.

You blinked a few times before pushing it to Weems. For a split second, her fingers touched yours. She took the flower carefully and watched you rush past her.

Lizzie waved you over as you rushed into the building. She looked worried at how quiet and pale you looked.

Before she asked you started speaking. "When I get too nervous vines usually start to grow from somewhere and come for me. They'll pull me away into safety. We were on the bus and she was really close and instead of vines, a flower appeared in my hand. Not a simple daisy, no I mean one that I've never seen in real life. I was drawing it on the bus earlier and then it was in my hands."

"You gave her a flower?!" Lizzie whispered loudly. Her eyes trained ahead of her.

"I was panicking! It felt different. When the vines come, the feeling that rushes through me is shaky, unstable. But this...it was the most stable I felt. It was like those fireworks they describe when you kiss your crush of a million years. When you open the gift you wanted. Like when you met Rob. That type of stable." You were rambling. Your eyes looked behind you and met hers.

She was holding her bags and still had the flower in her hand. She raised it to her nose and deeply inhaled. You could feel her inhale almost. When she exhaled, you could actually feel it behind your ear.

You looked away and held behind your ear.

"What's going on with you?" Lizzie finally looked to you. She became worried with how concentrated and confused you were. "You look like you're about to die."

"I think I'm one with the plants. I have all sorts of my favorite flowers tattooed on my body. My grandpa's favorite is tattooed behind my ear. She smelt the flower and I could feel her breath. Either I'm evolving like some Pokémon, or I'm going insane." You gave a dry laugh.

Lizzie was trying to think of some plan to test it out. "Can you conjure up another one that's on you?" She asked.

You thought about the feeling you felt earlier and closed your eyes. Knowing that doing this in public would be risky if you got caught.

You knew on your left calf there was a juliet rose. You thought of it and the feeling Weems gave you. And surely enough, there was a flower in your hand. Giving it over to Lizzie, she smelt it. Then her exhale was on your calf.

Your eyes widen and so did hers. "You're one with the plants that are on you?! Is that why the vines were so persistent?!" Lizzie was excited for you.

"I can literally feel plants!" your body began to shake with happiness. It's always been a skill you had heard and wanted. You always thought it was fake. But here you were.

The only downfall you now faced: Larissa Weems had a flower from you.

Your actions ceased. You turned around to her again. Her hand started to reach for the petals, about to start caressing them.

"Liz, she has a flower. Her flower is right behind my ear. A chocolate cosmos. Liz, she can't have that flower." You began to panic.

"Then go get it. This trip is outside of your comfort zone and you're discovering things, so go discover a way to get it. We're not teenagers where I was the messenger." Liz shook her head. Knowing your next words would be asking her. "And before you ask me, what do I say, I'm telling you now, just ramble." She smiled at you. "And finally! If it goes wrong and you get too stressed, just know, we're taking edibles before we get to TSA. I know you too well for that."

"Is that why you forced me to eat breakfast this morning? To get me high?" You laughed.

Lizzie only beamed wider. "I plan too keep you from sober for the next two weeks. Now go! Get your flower."

You gave a stiff nod and turned to the tall beauty. Her blue eyes already on you. The urge to run away was strong, but you needed that flower back.

So you stepped away from where Liz was, moving towards her. Never once breaking eye contact. Your hands were fidgeting at your sides. You didn't know how to approach this at all and your mind was hectic once more.

Your feet felt so heavy. Had they always been this heavy? They couldn't have been. You were sure you would've noticed. But then again, would you? Why is this what you're worrying about? How are you getting that flower? Are you going to tell her that you can feel everything she does?

"Y/n!" Alex. He pulled you from your drowning questions. "Are you alright?"

"Oh! Yeah! I just had to talk to Weems before TSA." You answered.

You could tell you were close enough for her to hear and read your lips.

"About?" He questioned. Wanting to know further. "Is it about the flower she found?"

How oblivious he is.

"Yeah! Actually it's really strange. Being one with plants, uhhh, it allows me to feel anything they feel. And she has a flower I've never seen and I just wanted to ask her about it. But I can feel it's life draining and I want to nurse it back to health." You partly lied and partly told the truth.

Weems' eyebrow raised when she hear you could feel what the flower felt. But she wanted to test it. So she smelt it again. Blowing out this time. Watching how your eyes jumped to her as your hand felt behind your ear. That wasn't enough though. She wanted to push you.

The flower, the dark colors, were brought up to her vibrant red lips. Soft kisses started to appear behind your ear.

You took a sharp inhale. Once again jumping to look at her. A devilish smirk on her face.

"I'll see you on the plane though?" You looked back to Alex. Your classic soft smile being given for comfort.

He left you once again and you almost instantly locked eyes with Weems. Continuing your path to her.

"Dr. L/n."

"Principal Weems. That flower...I um," you started becoming short of breath. Your eyes fell to the flower in her hand then back up to her. Your eyes began to flutter. The feeling was being too much and you needed to let it out before vines started to show up.

And without thinking you grabbed her hands. Wrapping them around your as you felt flower petals form. You were learning so much about yourself.

"Dr. L/n are you okay?" She frowned, not understanding why she was covering your hands.

You knew the petals were to some flowers on your body and feeling her hands just resting on the petals was then on your body. And she didn't mean to squeeze, but she was trying to get you to open your eyes and look at her.

The smallest whimper left your mouth at the squeeze. You nodded your head. Not daring to acknowledge the redness of your face.

You opened your hands and eyes. Laughing weakly at how many different petals were in her hands. You could pick out which flower they all belonged to.

Finally coming back to reality, you went to start grabbing them, but Weems pulled her hands away. You furrowed your brows at the new absence. Craning your head to see her eyes.

"Principal Weems?" You whispered her name. Childishly reaching for her hands again.

You watched in awe as she put all the petals in one hand and used the other to carefully run over them. Sending shivers all over your body. The feeling was all to much for you.

You stepped closer to her, needing her to free you of the feeling. "Please..." you stared up at her with glistening eyes. Surely, you felt your body come back and your feelings dial down.

"I'm going to have so much fun with these." She matched your volume. "I'm going to find out which one makes you squirm."

"Principal Weems, I don't think that such a good idea." You shook your head.

You didn't have to think, you knew it was a bad idea. Too much could make you do something you won't be able to control. It genuinely scared you about these new found abilities.

"And why is that, darling?" She hummed.

You didn't get to answer as your phone went off. You backed up, knowing that it was Liz who texted you.

Then you left the woman. Finding your way right next to Lizzie. She could sense your defeat. Which is why she handed over the brownie. Waiting impatiently for it to finally kick in.

~T.S~

Sitting on the plane was fine. Well, it was fine.

Lizzie sat in the window seat, you in the middle, and you had an open seat. Knowing Alex would probably take it.

"Bro, imagine if Weems was high." Lizzie looked over to you. Her eyes barely open.

You stifled the loud laughter in you. "Do you think she would still be able to function as the giant goddess she is?"

"Dude, imagine we give her the last bit." She laughed. It was that stupid high laugh she always had, which would make you laugh more.

And for a solid five minutes you two just laughed at nothing. Trying to collect yourself when someone walked up to the open seat. Without thinking you greeted the person, still thinking Alex was taking the seat with you. "Hey, Alex." You got out between your panting.

Alex would've known why you guys were laughing. And when you reached for the last part of the brownie to hand over to him, you froze when you realized it wasn't him.

Your hand immediately came back to you, and you felt the adrenaline cancel out everything. You elbowed Liz, signaling for her to look and act normal.

"Principal Weems!" You blinked. Still feeling the laughter trying to escape. You didn't feel like your normal antsy self in front of her. Instead, after realizing who it was, you calmed down. Like you weren't talking to Weems, but to Larissa. "What can I do for you?"

"I was wondering if this seat was taken?" She question, gesturing to the blue seat.

"Oh! Please sit!" Liz answered before you could. "Would you like the last of Y/n's brownie?" She offered, motioning to the brownie in hand.

You glanced at her. Mouthing are you sure? Knowing exactly what plan she had. Lizzie nodded and focus back to Weems. You followed soon after. "Yeah, I made them earlier this week. They're plant based!" Lizzie laughed while you tried to keep you cool. Weems, however, wasn't even laughing.

"I hope that two of my staff members aren't high before we even left state?" She stared at you both.

"Principal Weems, if we see those two, we'll for sure report them to you!" Lizzie stupidly joked. Causing you to finally crack.

You had to force yourself to be sober. "Larissa, it's because I get anxious on take off and landing. Lizzie just takes one with me so I'm not alone." You spoke without processing the names you said. "By the time we land, both of us will be fine. Liz falls asleep ten minutes into the ride."

Your eyes traveled up her entire body, finally taking in her outfit. She wasn't in her usual heels and dress. Instead she had on grey sweats and a Nevermore crewneck. And finally, your eyes met hers.

Those piercing blues. You felt your breath catch. She was staring back at you. Almost like she was waiting for you to tell her to sit. Words seemed to fail you(not the first time) so you just bobbed your head.

The seconds that passed from her standing to her sitting where in slow motion. You couldn't tear away from her every move and how elegant she looked doing it all. Then when she sat, she was still taller than you.

Time froze. You've had slight physical touches with her. But the burning feeling you were feelings.

Her thigh pressed against yours.

You were doomed.

How does one go through an entire plane ride with a stunningly indescribable woman near?!

Luckily, you didn't get to think long as the plane was getting ready to take off. You had missed the entire build up and now you were worried.

Your leg started to bounce, the one the was pressed against Larissa's. She had noticed but didn't mind. After all, you were just nervous. Yet, when the plane starts to build speed and your hand grabs hers, you close your eyes.

Larissa jumped at the sudden contact. Her mind didn't have to think twice. She just held yours back and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

~T.S~

Your eyes slowly peeled open. You vision was on a tilt, confusing you. Your head rolled to look up at the thing your head was against.

"Well, good morning," Larissa hummed. "So you're a cuddler?"

Your brows furrowed together before realizing. You had the woman's arm in yours and legs over hers. How were you even comfortable?

You began to detangle yourself, "Principal Weems I am so sorry!"

"Oh, don't be darling. I hope you're well rested." She beamed down at you. Letting the smile grow at your blush. Had you always blushed around her like that? Why had she never noticed? Why did you look even cuter?

Just then, the person in front of you turned around. Alex. He was smiling down at you, and you couldn't help the smile that appeared.

"When we land, and get settled in, do you want to combine our groups and get dinner together?" He questioned. His brown eyes had this sparkle of hope.

"So, what if I told you, that I don't even know where we're staying?" You couldn't help the small laugh that fell from your mouth. "I literally was given my group this morning without a single detail. Liz had planned me going when the trip was announced."

"I'm just that great of a friend. I have three given gifts...find Y/n love, let Y/n rant when needed, and drag Y/n on unwanted adventures." The brunette popped into the topic. "We're all given schedules based on our groups for a reason Alex. Reservations were impossible to make for so many hungry teens. Y/n is at the Rainforest Café for dinner tonight."

You knew easily Lizzie was up to something. She didn't care about reservations and following them. But whatever she had planned, you were trusting her.

"So, I am warning you Alexander Smith. You fuck up my hard work of making reservations, and it. Is. War." Liz pointed a stiff finger at him. Making his smile fade slightly.

"Don't worry, Smith. We still have the Secret Santa exchange." You brightened the mood. "Whenever that actually is."

"Tonight, by the pool." Liz cut in once more.

"Then tonight we'll see each other!" You shrugged. Trying your absolute best to ignore the hand creeping on your thigh. "Who, um, who'd you get anyways?" You tried to carry the conversation longer.

"Oh, I got Cawthon. I just got him a really nice cologne and his favorite brand of hoodies." He openly answered. "What about you? Who was yours?"

You frowned knowing you couldn't actually say. Seeing as her hand was literally on you trying to find some reaction. "I would say but they're too close and if they heard."

He playfully glared at you. "I always forget you never trade a secret for a secret. You're sneaky, ya' know that?"

Shooting him a wink, "I don't do that! Liz knows all my secrets, and I know hers. So therefore, I do trade. Just has to be a good one." He slumped into his seat mumbling silly things. You knew he was laughing just as much as you. You leaned forward to whisper. "Don't be so easy to fool next time Smith."

"Ha-ha, you're so wise!" He whispered back. "Did Liz plan everything?"

"She got the torch passed once Greene left. She's planned everything before anyone could even ask.. I'm still trying to figure out how she got me to pay?"

Lizzie leaned forward, "I took your card and went to get the money. You need to use your card more. You never buy anything. So much money."

"Nosey fucker!" You scolded her. Taking both back with your language. They hardly heard you curse, so when you did it was a big deal. "I hate you both."

You returned to sitting normally. Finally acknowledging the white haired woman. First her hand and how high it had gotten on your leg, then on her face. Mostly those eyes.

They never were on your face, no, but on her hand as well. There was this darkness to her eyes. One you've never seen on anyone.

A gasp so quiet it was only heard by one person. Larissa had moved her hand to your hip bone. Tracing circles over it.

Letting your hand carefully move up to her face to bring her eyes to yours. You could only stare at her. Taking it in. Drinking her like she was expensive wine.

You began to lean in, and so did she. You were so close. So close you could feel her breath on you face.

You eyes fluttered open. You glanced over to Larissa. Then to Lizzie, who was still out, and back to Larissa. She was now focused on you and how scattered you seemed.

"Are you alright?" She kept her voice hushed. "You seem a bit confused. Did you have a dream of some sorts?" You could only nod, words just not seems.

"Was it scary?"

You shook your head.

"Was it with someone?" You stayed still. "Oh so it was. Who was it with? Some secret crush?"

You slowly met her gaze. Brows laced together. "Have you ever been in love?" You spat out.

Larissa was taken aback. Obviously she had been, but that was forever ago and it never ended pretty.

"Once. Many years ago. When I was a student, I was in love with my roommate. We got into an argument and I switched rooms." She simply explained.

You could only giggle. "Morticia Addams? Is that why you would have such a thing against her?"

Now she was gobsmacked. "How did you know?"

"I'm the student who had done the research project on alumni from Nevermore. I had sent you and email asking to interview you but never got a response, but Morticia was more than happy to be the center of attention." You didn't realize what you were saying, still feeling hazy from waking up. "Anyone could've seen it."

"You were the one who's paper went world known?" She had never once noticed you. "You're so smart, I would've known you."

"Not really. You were graduated by the time I started. And I figured if I couldn't have the one I wanted to meet for so long, I would pick her second best." You sighed.

Larissa didn't get time to respond as the plane began to land. She grabbed your hand before you could search for hers.

Your eyes screwed shut and it was over before you could catch up to the situation.

Once you were positive you were safe, you let out a airy 'thank you’ but didn't remove your hand. Keeping hers in yours. Even when getting ready to get off, you and her stepped out of your seats to let Lizzie out. And you didn't realize how you pressed back into her. You also failed to acknowledge her sharp intake.

Her only thought was what a little tease.

Your hands finally let go as you had to do head count.

And you two didn't see each other for the rest of the rides.

~T.S~

You knocked on the door to your groups room. Thankful when they had connected rooms and were all in one.

"Perfect! Dinner is at eight, but be ready earlier so you can do some shopping before hand." You waltzed in. Beginning on water the plants that were around their room.

"Tell us about you and Weems!" Someone asked.

You turned around and narrowed it down to Ajax. "What do you mean?" You laughed off.

"Oh come on! You two on the entire trip here?! There's an entire group chat dedicated to you two! You were literally cuddled up on the plane!" Bianca walked into the room. "Plus, words in. Weems is in room 2140. And I'm pretty sure that is also your room."

"Nothing is going on between us! Yes maybe there's been something happening but nothing more. She's my boss." You sighed in defeat.

The room was curious now. "What's been happening?" Enid tilted her head at you. You were going to say nothing, but once you turned, you saw those damn puppy eyes. Leading you to cave and telling the small group everything.

After an hour of fan girling about your crush, you finally left to get ready. Walking in, you only saw one door, meaning one bedroom. You knew you were sharing and were already content with taking either or, but for now you settled with the bed.

Hoisting your bag onto covers. Unzipping it and grabbing what Lizzie said was your first dinner outfits. She even texted you to remind you.

You folded it, along with fresh undergarments. Smiling when she even packed your wooly green cardigan.

You spun around, ready to shower away your travel. Jumping at the sight of your roommate.

"Larissa!" You screamed. "Scared the soul out of me!"

She could only hum at that. "I take it your my roommate?"

You nodded, "I can take the couch. It doesn't bother me."

"Nonsense, you can get the bed." Larissa shook her head.

Her silver hair was up but you could only imagine it down and blowing in the wind. Which is no different from how she wished she could see your hair down and free.

You were stubborn at times. This being one of them. "No, I promise I'll be ok out there. It even has a better view of the mini forest. Take the bed, I'll be fine. Now, I'm gonna shower to head to dinner."

You walked off, leaving the white haired goddess behind. She was still stunned by how sweet your voice sounded saying her name. Which made her wonder how it would sound being a moan. Ever since she found out of your crush, she couldn't help but want to tease you. To constantly have her hands on you.

Larissa Weems wanted to destroy you.

And you wanted her to.

You didn't even think twice when you picked up your phone. Texting Liz that you needed her help to get the woman to go insane for you.

Her plan being the outfit she planned for you. It was still in your suitcase on the bottom. Meaning you would have to go out there naked to get it. Only for Liz to tell you to let the towel hang loosely.

You liked the plan. You were somewhat confident that you could pull it off. But that was till you saw the woman sitting in a corner chair with her legs spread. Her position killed you on spot.

No. I'm doing this. You thought loudly. Larissa watched your every move. Taking in how you didn't look at her again. But rather ignored her. Giving it all to searching your bag for an outfit. Pulling out a pile of clothes and setting them aside.

You climbed onto the bed and put your back to her. Legs spread apart slightly, you let the towel fall. Then taking the clip out your hair. It falling down your back and a bit in front.

You reached towards your open bag and grabbed your skin care. Following it simply but your hips kept wiggling. An attempt of seeing how long she could hold off.

It wasn't until you crawled off the bed and slipped on new underwear, that you finally earned a grunt.

"Are you ok over there Larissa?" You almost moaned her name. Saying it with more breath that normal. "That chair getting uncomfortable?"

"You wouldn't believe it." She huffed out. You grabbed the dress, getting ready to slip it on. "No bra?"

"Not that type of dress." You laughed. Pulling it down just pass your ass. Landing mid-thigh. You spun around. Smiling to yourself at how dark her eyes were. "Do you think Alex would like it?"

"And when exactly will he have the pleasure to see it?" She gritted her teeth. She knew you were playing a game now. Seeing how long she could hold out for. But if that was the case, then you better believe she would be winning. Her prize being you. "I do believe he'll only be seeing you at the staff Secret Santa tonight. The one down by the pool side."

You hummed. Making your way closer so she could see how short it really was. Along with how well it clung to you. Showing you off in every single way.

She could sense how confident you suddenly were feeling, yet it didn't prepare her for your next move.

You swung an exposed leg over her, then the other. Straddling her as you sat taller now. Looking down at her for once as your hands cupped her face. Your left thumb running over her lips and dragging the bottom one down.

"Well, someone's gonna be taking it off of me before then." You nipped at her ear lobe.

That was it. How dare you tease her like that?! To even consider letting someone other than her touch you? Had you gone mad?!

Her hands gripped at your thighs, then clawed to your hips. Pulling yours to be against hers. She held you still for a second. Soon to be rubbed against her.

Your eyes widen at the feeling under you. "Rissa..." you hummed again. Her name sounded filthy with how you said it.

"Keep up your game, darling. Just don't forget who you're playing with." She pushed you off her. Standing up with a bulge in her pants. Leaving you to figure out if she had this planned all along.

You let out a heavy breath and finished getting ready.

~T.S~

Just as you were about to leave you saw her. Mouth dropping open at the sight before you.

With a white silk shirt and black flowy pants. It was far from her everyday attire. You were expecting some form of a dress. All your thoughts were gone at the sight of the first few buttons undone. Almost showing you cleavage. Then you realize, she was braless.

She had an untied tie around her. "Darling, do you know how to tie a tie?" She questioned. Taking in the large gulp you took as you nodded. "Wonderful, come help me then?"

Your legs moved without being told, you stood before her. About to reach for the tie, but she stepped back. It stayed that way till you started to grow annoyed.

You glared at the woman. Turning to leave her to tie her own tie. You had a hand on the doorknob. Except the door had an opposing force. You turned around. Eyes meeting the silk shirt.

You figured it was time for your move again. Your hand collecting the tie and bringing her closer to you. "Keep up your game, darling. Just don't forget who you're playing with." You mocked her. Pushing her off you as you opened the door.

She was baffled. Why were you never this confident before? Where did it all of a sudden come from? And most of all, how were you this good at being a tease?!

You on the other hand, were going to your groups room. Knocking on what you knew to be the girl's room. When the door opened they immediately pulled you in and started redoing your hair and makeup. Pleased to see you comply so easily for them.

"So?" Bianca started. Everyone was waiting for your explanation.

"I think I'm in love with Weems." You finally confessed. Listening to the uproar of cheers.

"Is that who you're all dressed up for?" Enid was applying makeup. She chose a soft brown and green look. Claiming it to be 'earthy' and 'so you'.

"A lot happened to get me this dressed up." You scoffed.

They pried at you to tell, but you couldn't. And the bickering went for awhile. Even as it became dinner. Only to stop when you saw who's group was with you.

Enid was the first to say something about it. "We have dinner with Weems' group?! This is so great we'll be able to witness it first hand!"

You shook your head and let them all run off to the tables. You followed with such, but to a table that hosted Larissa. Her sharp eyes making you feel more aware of the stunt you're playing.

Sitting in the booth across of her. She smiled like a sly fox and maybe she was. The way she has you longing for her. Like she's won and just rubbing it in. She had a plan and you could tell. Not that you didn't have one of your own, cause you do. You think you do at least.

Situating well, you realize how isolated your table really was. "Weems." You smiled carelessly. Larissa could swear, that the smile you owned, was enough to murder. Enough to make other people murder just for you. "Fancy seeing you her."

"Likewise. Thought you would be off with Mr. Smith." Her voice held something to it. You struggled to figure out what it was. "You look ravishing tonight."

"And you look divine. I'm so used to seeing you in dresses and skirts." You returned the compliment. "Have any plans after? The Secret Santa isn't till midnight from what I've heard."

"Oh, so many plans. What about you, darling? Any plans?" Her voice was suggestive now. Her plans were you.

"Can I get you two anything to start? Drinks? Appetizers?" The young girl had rosy cheeks. You couldn't tell if it was the intimidating stare of Larissa or your kind smile.

"A bottle of red, please?" You were first to order. Sensing the rise in Larissa's sharp brows. The girl rushed off. "You scared her away, Rissa."

"Me?"

"Mhmm, with that intimidating stare. Could cause trouble just to see it." You teased.

Larissa was so confused. Earlier you could barely be near her, and now you were so bold. "What is going on in that pretty head of yours?" She squinted her eyes at you, trying to read you.

You just beamed innocently as the wine was placed down. Thanking the waitress and sending her off. "A few more minutes hun," you said.

You felt bad for teasing her. But at the minute, all you could do was feel tingly for the woman across from you. You wanted to push every damn button you could on her. Find everything that makes her want to paralyze you. Not literally but, just till it was too much.

"L/n? Are you feeling ok?" Larissa snapped you back to reality. Your eyes had trained to her hands. How they held the wine glass. You wished you were a wine glass.

Coming back to it, you just hummed again. Slowly coming out of your trance and acting like it didn't happen. Continuing dinner with delightful conversation.

By the end, you were just slightly wine drunk. Standing as close as you could to Larissa to save you from the cold. You were covered by the cardigan, but you really just wanted an excuse to be close.

It was that way till you got to the hotel. Going a different way from her. "Darling? Where are you going?" Weems knitted her brows. "The room is this was."

"Liz has my bathing suit. She said it has to be the last minute surprise. I'll see you later though, at the pool party. I heard they wanted to have a volleyball and chicken competition. I was named a judge for the night." You answered. Continuing to walk the opposite way.

Breathing out heavily when out of sight. Rushing into Liz's room.

~T.S~

"Liz! This is so out of me!" You complained. You were on full display. "What even is your plan with this?!"

Liz came out, throwing a shirt at you. It was some plant shirt you never seen. "It's Weems'. Now, put it on so we can go get drunk with everyone. Tomorrow the kids are doing there own thing at the theme parks."

"What do you mean it's Weems'?! Did you take her shirt?!" You gasped. How did she even get it? "I don't know, Liz. Maybe I should just...lay low? This whole confident thing, yes it was fun and got me into a sexual game, but I don't know...I just feel wrong about doing it?"

"If you don't want to, you don't even have to take off the shirt. And the whole confident thing was all you, and that dress. I knew you would feel confident." Liz stepped out, her swimsuit being more covering. "The entire time, you can stay by me and Rob. I know Alex will be there, so you'll have a familiar face and won't third wheel alone. At any time, if you want to leave, just let me know. I won't make you stay and be uncomfortable."

You huffed, knowing you were trapped in going. But you knew you would regret if you didn't.

You trailed behind them on your phone the walk there. Already being later than what you wanted. Deep breaths could be heard from you, catching Lizzie's attention.

"Rob, you go ahead and find Alex." She sent her husband in. Turning to face you. "Hey. I am really proud that you've stepped out and are trying new things. It's a huge step into expanding your socialness while you're sober-ish. And if you want, tonight will be the last that I pressure you into something insane."

From all the years that you were friends, you began to pick up on how Liz can sense your emotions. She knew how you felt from usually one look. Then again, you tended to wear your emotions.

"I'll watch over you, pinky promise flower." She embraced you. Holding on tight to you until you felt ready. "Now lets go get drunk."

"God, is that all you think of?" You laughed, opening the gate to the pool. Your mood instantly lifting at how lively the party had become. You could pick out who've been drinking and getting ready for the volleyball game. "Do I have to be drunk to judge this game?"

"Oh absolutely!" Derek and Ro came up to you. "That's the whole point of giving the kids free range. We get shitfaced, most of us get laid, and then hangover!"

"I mean, I even think Weems is planning on getting drunk." Ro nodded towards her. Everyone soon glancing over. "I actually doubt that. The most I've ever seen her drink was like a few glasses of wine. She's always so responsible. Would hate to have to room with her. Probably have to be asleep by nine."

"Well, I have two weeks in the same room as her." You couldn't bring your eyes back to the group. "I mean, surely it can't be that bad?"

"Oh, Liz. You are a match maker!" Ro jumped with joy at the new found information. "See when you two first started beating around the bush, I thought it was hopeless! I mean, everyone did! But then recently?! It's like the only three that don't know are you, her, and Alex!"

"No, she knows!" Liz cut it. Making Derek laugh loudly at it. "It's literally just Alex who doesn't get it."

"Doesn't get what?" He came up to the four. Rob following close behind.

You knew it was inevitable now. "About the whole thing going on between Weems and Y/n. They really just need to fuck and get it out their systems." Derek spewed without a second thought. "It's insufferable watching."

He looked at you, and you could see the hurt in his eyes. "I would've never guessed...Shots?"

"God, yes please!" You broke away from the group. Ordering one for everyone and then rejoining them. Clinking the small glasses and starting your night strong.

And seven shots and a mix of drinks in between later, you were feeling more than drunk. Words just slightly slurring and your skin was flushed. You sat on the edge, having a simple conversation with one of the math teacher's. Rambling on about a flower they asked about, you missed how they started backing away. Also missing the appearing shadows. Ending up letting out a scream as you fell into the pool.

You quickly scrambled to attack at your friends. The weight of the now soaked shirt halting your actions. You let your eyes find the group laughing and so was everyone else. Lifting your spirit at the antics. Your hazy eyes found the blurb that was Larissa. Giving you a great idea.

She had yet to get in the water.

The attention was finally off you as your friends came closer. "I have a terrible idea." You giggled while stripping of your shirt. Now in the bathing suit. Without a care in the world, you skipped over to the goddess. A cheeky smile never leaving your face. "Can you get the hair tie out for me?" You looked so sweet now. Like someone who's never been drunk or even tipsy experiencing it for the first time.

You turned so she could have easier access. "That shirt you had on...where'd you get it?" She questioned. Hoping that in your drunken state you'd say something so damn cute she'd want to take you for her own.

She handed you the hair tie. "Come meet my friends...well...your staff!" You became all giddy. She was stricken for a second, but she wish she hadn't fallen for your trick.

As she was in a moment of vulnerability, you took it as your chance. Dragging her close to the deep end. And then a splash brought her back. She surfaced to you laughing while everyone stifled theirs. Reaching a hand out, implying she wanted your help, and once you took it, she pulled you in.

It was her turn to laugh as you had to tread water to stay afloat. Pulling you towards the side as you became tired quickly. She was going to say something, but you were already out and gone. Grabbing another drink when they started bringing out the net.

Larissa was confused. You turned away from her, but when Rob started to explain, she wasn't anymore. That's why you were so drunk. Everyone there knew how you acted drunk. Liz had dragged you to more than you had ever wanted.

"Y/n is our ref for the night. And when absolutely wasted, it can get pretty intense. Always keeps us on our toes. Are you playing with us, cause if so, you're on our team." Ro tied up her hair. Getting ready to kick ass.

"No way! If you get Weems, then you're bound to win! I think she shouldn't get to play," Ashton, a science teacher, mentioned.

"And why would we win?" Ro playfully glared. "Scared of loosing to the undefeated?"

"No, no, he makes a point! With how infatuated Y/n is with Weems, points are bound to be given. Same reason we don't let Liz play." Derek agreed.

"Dude! You're on our team!" Ro smacked his chest. "Fine, why don't we ask Y/n if both Liz and Weems should play!"

With your name being said, you spun around, mouth attached to a straw. Eyes in nothing but a cloud of haze. You walked closer and sat in you spot. The whistle of honor being given to you.

"Thank you Dan, but! They make a strong point. I'm very infatuated with Weems, and Liz is literally my best friend. And if you let the best friend and the goddess, then you at least have to pick new teams. Only fair to mix it up!" You shrugged, not even hearing your words.

Liz was so happy she planned this out perfectly. "Well, if it means I finally get to be in the volleyball games, I say lets pick new teams."

Your whistle blew, "Line up please!" You beamed.

"I thought we were picking teams?" Larissa followed with the order anyways. Adoring how cute you looked taking control.

"We are, this is how it happens." Dan informed. Going to blindfold you.

You had your back faced to them now, doing a little sway in your spot. "Mix!" You hiccupped. Listening to the sound of shuffling. Then you were facing them again, somehow pointing at people and placing them. Until there was no one left and teams were evened. You took off the fabric blinding you and were proud.

Nodding in approval you blew your whistle again. "Let the games begin! You cheered, taking you ref spot.

The calls you were making were absurd. People were arguing where it landed, and you let them defend themselves. Best case got the point. Then it came down to the two you'd never want to have to face.

"Dude! You're telling me I have to pick between the best friend and the goddess? Guys...like on game point as well? Ok! Ummmm, Liz, you first." You pointed.

Liz stood tall, hands folded in front of her. "Your honor, the ball fell out of the lines, not to forget that when she blocked it, it fell outside the line, making her the last person to touch it."

You hummed and nodded, then focus to Larissa. "Rissa?"

"There are no lines in the pool water your honor. I was told, the only way that the ball is out of lines, is if it hits the solid grown and rolls away." She reminded you of your own rules that you gave, yet you couldn't remember giving rules. Which was nothing new. It's why nobody defended with the rules.

You bobbed your head and looked between the two, getting ready to raise your hand to signal who won. And with closed eyes you hear your crush's team. A clatter of what's erupting from the other.

"Y/n! You have never given someone who defends with rules the point!" Ro shouted. She was so competitive about the game.

"You were the one that wanted Weems to play! You're just mad it didn't work in your favor!" Derek taunted. Making you laugh at their bickering.

"Is it time for the chicken tournament now?" You tilted your head. Changing the topic before it carried on any longer. "And honestly, if we're gonna get it done, Liz and Rissa can't play. I never want to make that choice again."

"It depends, how straight of a line can you walk?" Ashton came over and helped you up. Guiding you away from the pool's edge. The groups watched as you tried.

They shared a quick silent discussion. One Larissa wasn't in on. "Y/n you think you could do two more shots and not make an entire flower bouquet?" Liz asked you. "You know you're free to- oh yup! There she goes!"

You had downed the two shots, completely stumbling back. "I want it nice and clean! But first! I want that one over here!" You pointed towards Larissa. Her eyes growing at the attention.

"Move it! You heard the ref! You're over there!" Liz nudged the frozen Weems. "Never tell the ref no."

Larissa didn't keep you waiting. Now standing between your legs, you spun her so she could watch and wrapped your arms and legs around her. Trapping her with you until it was over.

Letting the groups battle it out as thumbs rubbed your thighs. You couldn't help but get distracted. Your head fell to rest near her ear. Eyes still staring at the game.

"Did you know, that the dress and the whole thing I was doing, was because, and you might not know this, but I really REALLY like you. And I know Liz set it up so we could be together cause I truly think she's always known. So I really don't know why she acted so surprise the night I told her, then she unintentionally told you. Oh my God! You've known?" You came to realize the already known.

Someone fell and the competition was over. Meaning it was time for you to thrown your ultimate winner for the night.

You had everyone gather around, knowing this would be the ending of the night. "Right! I can't even like see, but! Tonight we had an insane amount of twists! Our night only get one winner though! And...it is...." You didn't finish before Ro cut you off.

"I swear on my life, if you say Weems." She pointed, knowing that's exactly who you were about to say.

You looked offended. "Well! It was gonna be you, but someone wanted to assume!" You turned away from her. "I declare the MVP of the night to...Ashton!" You pulled out a blown up crown and handed it over. "Congratulations!"

Everyone cheered before starting their goodbyes. You were by Ro and Derek while Liz walked up to Larissa.

Signaling for her to follow her to the other side. "Look, I know you're probably a wonderful person, but I swear on my grave. If one text comes to me or she shows up in my room and just is the slightest bit of sad, you'll be the first person I look at. And tonight, she will just sleep on the couch, I know she will, but at least get her in pajamas. Y/n...Y/n is extremely fragile but will never show it. And when I say fragile, Larissa I seriously mean when she try's to get you to fuck her, you have to do everything to tell her no. But be nice about it, ok?"

The sly fox nodded. What had happened that you were considered fragile?

You saw Larissa come back with Liz. Not sure why the two would've snuck off. Where they talking about you?! Now you were curious to find out.

You had Rob holding you up as you both walked to your roommates. You were handed off to Larissa. A towel was wrapped around, keeping you as warm as possible.

Liz came up to you, grabbing your slightly warm cheeks and making you look at her. "When you get to your room, Larissa is gonna help you change. Then you're going to go to sleep. No funny business, ok?"

You got closer to her. "Did you know she knew I liked her?" You furrowed your brows. Getting a nod and a laugh. "And you never told me?!"

"You were there. Now goodnight Y/n." Liz kissed your forehead. "Seriously, no funny business."

"No funny business, got it! Nighty night Liz." You hummed. Feeling your body get scooped up and held against some source of heat. You felt so comfortable.

In that moment, Larissa didn't believe what your friend said. You look so angelic in her arms. That you could do no harm nor wrong. You were just an innocent thing that needed protection.

She walked you both back in silence. The most noise being the sounds of the resort at night. Soft music playing, crickets singing, and leaves rustling.

Only to set you down when she needed to open the door. Letting you waddle your way to the couch. Missing it completely and falling onto the floor with a thud.

Larissa, had lightly laughed but went to get one of her shirts for you. When she came back to find you, she couldn't. "Y/n, darling?" She called out your name. Getting a distant hum from the bathroom. Lost with how you made it past her. She took in how you were curled up around the toilet already. "What are you doing?"

You simply pointed to the bowl. Knowing she got the message when she knelt down you and sat you up. "Oh, you poor thing. Do you always drink that much to ref?" You nodded. "So you're a social drunk, but when sober a nervous wreck?" You nodded again, this time with a frown. "Well, I'm gonna help you change then it's off to bed."

~T.S~

The morning came. You woke to your name being said over and over. You slowly took in your surroundings. You were laying in the bathtub with a indoor plant being spilled all over you.

Shit. You knew exactly what went down. "Rissa?" You called out hoarsely. A faint smile gracing your lips when she came in. Her hair down and free. The silver waves were everything you expected and all you wanted to do was run your hands through it.

"How'd you even get that plants in there?" She took in the amount fo dirt covering you. "Did you put it in there yourself?"

"God, no. It was probably the vines." You whispered. Scared of talking to loud and hurting your own ears.

Larissa couldn't lie. You looked beyond adorable covered in dirt. And with that fuzzy look in your eyes that was just the hangover. "The vines?"

"When I get nervous, or in this case too drunk, I loose most control over the plants in close areas. And the relationship I have with vines is insane. They love to show up on their own will sometimes. I need you to tell me what happened last night once we got back to the room." You sat up. Moving slowly to get out from under the plant.

Larissa just blushed at you. A small smile forming on her lips. You looked confused at her. "What happened?"

"We got back and you completely blacked out on the floor. You did aim for the couch though. Then you managed your way to the bathroom to throw everything you drank up. Then you blacked out again and I carried you to the bed. Your friend made it seem like you were going to be impossible to handle." The blonde answered.

You stood up fully now, brushing the dirt off you before stepping out. "What do you mean? Lizzie?" You wobbled a bit touching the cold tiles.

Larissa let her hands fall to your waist to steady you while you walked to brush your teeth. "She made it seem like you would try and get me to..."

"Oh! God! No! She does that every time! There's a whole story behind that. No, I don't drunkenly throw myself at people. I don't even do that sober." You shook your head. Shoving the tooth brush into your mouth.

There was some form of a domestic feeling. Larissa behind you in the morning. Her tall figure watching over you. Her hands still on you and holding you steady.

You knew she knew what she was doing. She wanted a reaction from you. But you had better plans. You were going to spend the entire day just teasing this woman.

You finished brushing your teeth, then spinning in her arms. Looking up through your lashes. "We should go to the theme park today."

"Is that what you want to do?" Weems furrowed her brows. "You don't want to go do something else?"

"I got dragged onto this trip, might as well go adventure out with it." You hummed. You lifted yourself onto the counter. Now having the goddess between your legs. Still staring up at her innocently. You were wearing your plan on your face.

Larissa had picked up on the look as well. "What is going on in that little head of yours?" She tilted her head. Coming closer to you.

Fuck. You had no winning chance. No dress to give you confidence, no phone to ask Lizzie for help, it was just you. You and your failing plan because she makes you so nervous and she knows she has so much power. You were going to drag this for as long as you could though.

Your final plan was to have Larissa Weems struggling to keep her hands off you. It was a matter of your next move though. You honestly had to summon the mindset of being drunk. Care free. Not even thinking of your next moves.

With Larissa already leaning in close to you, you figured being closer wouldn't be anymore harm. So you let your arms reach to grab the back of her neck. Pulling her head down closer to yours. Feeling ehr breathing hit your face.

"So much..." You whispered. Your eyes jumping all over her face, lingering on her lips the longest. "Are we going to the parks or no?"

Larissa felt dumbfound with how you left her. She also felt completely flustered. She wanted to have you close again. To feel your warmth radiate onto her. All she could do was watch you walk away.

Although, she was enjoying the unexpected from you. After the many years she's worked with you, you've never been anything other than quiet and kept to yourself. So seeing you finally break that shell was such a relief.

"You're not going to clean up the plant or anything?" She joked. Making you pop in to help the plant back to where it belongs.

She was stuck in a trance at how quickly you worked with plants to get them to look perfect.

Speaking of plants...Larissa came to remember about the petals and flower she had wrapped up and put in her bag. Knowing it would be an adventure with you in the parks now.

You, on the other hand, had already thought ahead of her. You had put the pot back in the living room with a cheeky smile.

When you walked back into the bedroom, you watched the woman search her bag. "Are you missing something?" You faked your innocence. You stood by your bag, pulling out all sorts of outfits.

"Did you-," She spun to face you. Her sentence falling short as you began to fiddle with the hem of the shirt. Pulling it up higher and higher.

You furrowed your brows at her. "Did I do what?" You frowned. You had put your outfit out of your bag and moved closer to her. Peeking into her bag to try and see if you saw anything out of place. "Is everything alright?"

"You are such a different person," she stared at you. "Did you happen to see a white tissue anywhere? It held something rather important."

Giving a shrug, you started to leave her again. "Nope, I've been in the bath tub all morning. What was the such important thing?"

Larissa opened her mouth, but soon it just hung open. You had your back to her as you complete ridded of the shirt. Your bare back on full display for her to take in.

She couldn't help but stare at the ink on you. How it all wrapped around you. Meaning that there had to be more on your front.

Your body moved quickly to get to the bathroom. Robbing Larissa of the sight. And if you stayed around longer, you would've heard her groan of frustration.

You were getting to her faster than she wanted to admit.

In all honesty, you were surprised she hadn't caught onto your little game for the day. Then again, the day only just began.

You did what you needed in the bathroom quickly, eager almost to continue to tease her. The thought made you pause for a second though. Where was this Y/n all that time at Nevermore?

You let the question float to the back of your brain as you stepped out in a towel once more. Your eyes scanning and searching the room for your crush.

Freezing when you finally found her. She stood in front of the glass door. The light giving her an angelic halo. You felt stunned to see her in such a way.

Suddenly your plan didn't seem important. You could only think about worshiping her entirely and not thinking of anyone else. In that moment you had a decision to make.

Get the woman and cave.

or,

Keep playing the game.

Then, a third option came to your mind. Get the woman and keep playing the game.

You moved over to her. Not caring if the towel was the only thing covering you. You stood in front of her and stared in awe. Your hand carefully reaching out to touch her torso. You met her pure blue eyes. Before she could ask what the look was for, you descend to your knees.

Eyes never leaving hers, "I want to worship you with everything I have. My goddess from above. The celestial creature you are. How you have trapped me with your living breath. How you stun me with just being near. How you are unbeatable and have no real competition for my ever giving adoration. But, I cannot cave into the wanting that is you. I kneel before you to show you how ready I am to make you cave for me."

You got back up, lingering hands on her. You backed away with a bowed head. Taking the outfit you had left on the bed and putting it on. Trying to let the fact of Larissa only behind you go.

You finished getting dressed and started working on the small bag you were bringing with.

Larissa had watched you. Watched how you fiddled with small things while thinking. Watching how you completely dropped to your knees in front of her and then played like nothing happened. Watching you as her stomach was twisting in all sorts of ways. Watching you like prey.

You were oblivious to this stare. You wanted nothing more than to hide from her after that. After saying you were willing to deny yourself just to have her begging for you.

But now you put her in a new position. Was Larissa Weems willing to throw out everything she's stood for just to have you? Or was she going to drag it so long that you had to come to her?

~T.S~

After the next three days of teasing went on, everyone could sense the tension you radiated. Every dinner you had with other members of the staff. Everyone could feel it.

"Ok. Y/n, I adore you, you obviously know this, but if you don't just fuck that woman. Because we are walking in this theme park and you two are just teasing each other at every given chance. You're even texting when she's literally three steps behind us. And I know you have no experience cause that's not what you focused on in school, but for the love of god, just fuck her tonight." Lizzie finally said. After you had just looked after your phone for the umptieth time.

You frowned at the last part. You have no experience. "How am I even supposed to ask her? Just like, 'hey we've been teasing each other let's just have sex!' I can't. I dug myself deep into it."

Lizzie laughed at how clueless you were. "Do exactly what you told me you did the other day. But keep it going. You've been playing this game far to long and now you're both suffering. I mean, look at her! She has not stopped that look of she's going to fuck you dumb."

"How do you know that?" You frowned, glancing back to the tall woman who was staring back at you. You blushed and looked away.

"Hun, this is what you're going to do. Tomorrow is either a shopping day or lounge day, its a free day. And so in you're suitcase, I packed you this really cute lingerie. It's white with flowers all over it, you'll love it. So when you go back to the hotel tonight, I'll stall her while you run ahead and change into it. Leave your hair down and use that innocent bare face. And to finally get into ready, sit on your knees on the edge of the bed. She'll be on you in no time." Lizzie planned out for you. Her eyes trained to the ride that you were about to get on.

Which is then how you realized how much you hated the idea of roller coasters. Rob came up and took the seat next to his wife, leaving you to sit with Larissa.

"So what were you and Lizzie talking about?" She leaned close. When you looked back, it gave her some idea of the conversation.

You only shrugged though, feeling vulnerable to the point you couldn't make eye contact like normal. The gates to the ride opened for you to get on. Hands beginning to shake at the anticipation. Tears even began to fill your eyes.

"Darling? You're shaking?" Larissa hummed. You and her sat in the back of the cart that way you would be blocked in the picture.

"Y/n hates rollercoasters." Lizzie laughed.

There was no more conversation as the ride launched. You were screaming through the fear. Lizzie and Rob were laughing in front of you. Larissa was next to you holding your leg that was shaking uncontrollably.

What made it the worse, is that it was in the dark with a few flashing lights. The worst type of rollercoaster.

Finally breathing again once it came to an end. You were quick to stumble off the ride, wanting to get off as quick as possible. The action making everyone around you laugh. Only to increase from the married couple when you turned around and had tears streaming down your face.

"It wasn't even that bad Y/n!" Lizzie got out between laughs. "You've been on worse."

Larissa held her arms open and you hid your face in her. Her hand stroking your hair and rubbing your back. Feeling you shake slightly.

"Ok, why don't we call it a day? We've been putting you through ride after ride. I'm sure most of the kids are either at dinner or at the hotel." Lizzie suggested, watching you nod stiffly.

~T.S~

You had done what Liz had suggested. You were sat on the bed in the white lingerie. Your hands were shaking at the thought.

You heard the door open, then it closed. Everything was moving incredibly slower. Even the sound of all the bags Larissa had falling to the couch sounded slow.

It was slow when you saw the room door opened and Larissa walk in.

The way her eyes took you in. How she stood there and was ready to devour you.

"And what to I owe this?" She raised her brow. "Come here darling."

You did as she said, getting up and stopping in front of her. Head hung low and bowed to her. "My goddess, you owe absolutely nothing. But please let me be yours tonight,' You began to have a whiny tone. Hands reaching out to fist her clothing.

"Oh is the pretty thing finally caving?" Larissa teased you. Hand coming to your face to get you to look at her. Bringing her lips down t your ear, "I like when you talk like that, it makes me want to destroy you."

She pulled her head back and crashed her lips to yours. Moaning at the sweet taste of the ice cream you ate earlier. Loving how it tasted off of you.

She tapped your waist, signaling for you to jump as she would catch your legs. Wrapping them around her waist as she carried you to the bed and sitting down with you in her lap. Kissing hungrily down your next. Leaving all hints and obvious clues that you were hers now.

"My god, darling. You taste better than I've ever expected." She hummed on your pulse point, drawing out a airy moan.

"Thank you..." You couldn't finish as she hummed again on your next. This time sucking hard and making you shake with need.

Your hips shifted, in need for some relief. And Larissa couldn't deny you any longer. She held your waist with a bruising grip and helped you get yourself off.

"You look so pretty dear. Making a mess of yourself on my lap when I've hardly touched you. Tell me, were you that desperate for me?" She whispered close to your ear. Making you cry out in want. "Uh-uh, I want you to use your words. Tell me how good I make you feel."

"Please! God, I need you so bad. Please, please, please," you were mumbling pleads over and over. You were so close already. The knot so tight you thought you might die.

But then all pleasure stopped. You let out a cry, only to be shushed. "Oh don't worry. You'll get your release, but it's going to have to be earned."

You didn't process much when she flipped you over on the bed. Hovering over you now almost completely bare. You let your hand lightly run over her skin. Becoming more desperate knowing how soft it was. Your hips bucked up to hers, moaning at the unexpected feeling.

You looked between you two, drooling at the faux cock that hanged from her hips. Never had you had anything up there, only one person and ever even eaten you out.

Larissa had noticed the shift in your eyes. Picking up the clues instantly and knowing now she would be your first. "If it's too much Y/n we can stop."

"No, fuck no," you panted breathlessly. "Please, I'm positive about this."

"If it hurts, just tell me and we can stop, ok?" She had a whole new aura. The care that radiated off of her instead of the lust. You gave a nod before pulling her into a kiss. "As cute and innocent as you look in this, I think it'd be better to get rid of it before I tear it off you. Or would you like it that way instead?"

"Please, wanna be close to you..." you whispered. Moaning as you instantly felt the fabric rip off your body. The cold air of the room running over your body.

"You're even prettier than I thought you'd be. Do you even know what you do to me? The things you make me want to do to you? You make me insane, Y/n." Her words were bringing you so close alone. "And having you like this right now, god. I'm going to fuck you so dumb, baby. I'll be the only one you can think of. The only name you can even get out of those pretty lips. The one you think who just fucked you so good." She just kept going. Her voice being so attractive to you. "I'm gonna fuck you so good I promise, baby."

She lined up with your core. Collecting your slick as she ran the cock up and down your folds. Stopping at your dripping hole. "So fucking wet for me." She mumbled loud enough for you to hear, but mostly for herself. She finally had you under her and ready for absolute destruction.

Slowly she began to fuck her way deeper. Going in and out constantly until she bottomed out entirely. Both your breathings being heavy. Larissa had her eyes closed. Looking down once she opened them to see the bulge in your stomach now. "Look pretty girl. Look how deep I am in you."

She watched your face as you saw what she was gawking at. You wiggled your hips ever so slightly and moaned loudly. You could feel how deep she was in you. How your walls fluttered around the toy continously.

"Please..." You felt the feeling begin to take over your brain. Feeling that fuzzy state wash over you.

Larissa couldn't help the love that took over her face at this sight. And she wanted to see more. Her hips drew all the way back and then snapped forward. The thrust being deep and hard. You practically screamed. Being silenced with a kiss.

"I know princess, but it'll feel so good once we get going. You'll be so dumb for me. I've always wanted you like this. Since the interview. To be so deep and fucking you like a wild animal. And all the things and stunts you had up that sleeve of yours." Her pace began to pick up at the thoughts. "How you teased me without even trying." She went faster. "Those looks." Faster and deeper. She picked up your legs, giving her a new angle. "The way you complimented me while drunk." The feeling was brutal.

"Please! Fuck mommy!" You cried without even thinking. You had finally given in to the dumb.

The name made Larissa slam into you and hit your sweet spot. "And that name. You wanted to be mommy's little fuck toy didn't you?"

"Yes, yes, your fuck toy." You babbled. "Please mommy, 'm so close!"

"Oh darling, hold out a little longer." She hummed before pulling out completely. Leaving you whimpering at the sudden loss. "Shh, shh you're ok."

Your hips still moved in search for the toy again. "Mommy wants to feel you coming on her cock, is that alright angel?"

"Please, want you." You stared with teary eyes. Not knowing what she really meant until you felt a real cock slip into you. The feeling before having nothing on right now. You cried out for her.

Larissa was still over your body. Moaning in your ear as you squeezed around her. "Fuck baby, you're so tight. Squeezing around me like that." It wasn't long before she began to pound into you again. Slamming her hips to yours. She watched as you began to shake.

"Please...mommy I...I can't," You panted out. Gasping when pressure was added to your clit.

"Come all over me darling, go ahead." She granted. Feeling how you grasped at her shoulders and shook. Holding her so close for grounding. She wasn't far behind you, fucking her warmth into you.

Giving you both a second to breath while she slowly rocked her hips. But then slowly became quickly, and before you knew it she was going for another round. Kissing your collar bone as you dug into her back. Pulling her closer to you with your legs and trapping her in you.

You couldn't even get out that you were close. Crying into her as your body tensed and then fell apart. Letting you become mush in her arms.

"You're doing so good for mommy. I'm so close dear. I'm gonna fuck a baby into you one day, I swear. I'm gonna treat you so well." She straightened up. Moving you both to the end of the bed giving her more force. She stood to her word. Fucking you so dumb you could only say her name. Multiple 'mommy's fell from your lips as she filled you up.

You swore at this point you had blacked out. Listening to your name be called over and over. "Darling you did absolutely amazing." You could hear Larissa quietly praise you.

And for a fool's second, you thought you were done. Until you felt her tongue run up you.

You tried to push her away or yourself away, but you couldn't. Your body wanted her. And as her arms held you down, she devoured you. Tasting the mixture of you both oozing out of you. Bringing you to one more high for the night.

The next thing you knew, Larissa was cleaning you up and climbing into the bed with you. Whispering sweet nothings into your hair line with kisses after each one. Her arms pulling you so impossibly close.

You could feel the twitching cock still. She had one more left in her and you were destined to satisfy her. Even tired to the point you thought you would die, you still shifted onto her.

"You still have more in you," you whispered, Trying to lower yourself onto her. "Wanna make mommy feel good."

"Aren't you just the sweetest, but we've done enough. You're practically about to fall asleep." She chuckled softly. Her hands were resting on your hips as you had managed to slip her back in you. A heavy groan leaving her and a whimper from you.

"Use me, please." You shifted your hips once more. Larissa couldn't tell, but you were spelling things out on her. sucking on her boob at the same time.

She started taking control eventually. Snapping up to meet you in the middle. And it wasn't long again. This time she pulled out and just held you so so close to her.

"Thank you so much angel. You were so good for me tonight." She combed through your hair, lulling you to sleep.

~T.S~

the next morning you woke up second. Looking to meet Larissa's gaze and smiling. "Well, good morning." She kissed your forehead. "Thought you would never wake up."

You hummed and just stared into her eyes. Searching for any regret of last night and finding nothing from her. Making your smile grow ten times.

"Y/n?" Larissa whispered.

"I think I love you?" You had managed. Crawling to straddle her lap. "Yeah, I do. I mean, you've always made me have a hard time not loving you."

Larissa was silent while staring. How could you be so certain? And she weas going to ask, but the kiss you gave her told her everything. So much so that she began crying. The feeling well returned.

"Be mine forever, Y/n." She begged so quiet you swear she would start sobbing.

"Of course, Larissa. You are nothing short of an earthal being I want to worship every single day." You confessed. Kissing away her salty tears. "I'll love you with everything I have because you deserve it all and more."

She laughed at that. "You and your worshipping words, Y/n. Wherever did someone like you learn it all? You're so young."

"It's all to impress the goddess you are." You placed one last lingering kiss to her lips. Only to have your morning rudely interrupted by a knock at the door.

Making you both laugh as you had checkout so soon.