#dri finally replies to comments

[choerrypuffs]

AITA for setting my cheating ex's car on fire? (and then falling for his cousin)

pairing: firefighter!haechan x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 8.6k

synopsis: revenge is best served cold―or on fire. literally.

author’s note: luvpuffcore is finally back!! ilysm cat and moon and thank you for another amazing year of friendship <333 i truly am the #1 most successful fan of all time 🤩 also special shoutout to cat for letting me use some of her creepy dms and moon for sharing her league knowledge yall are god's strongest soldiers fr !! happy new year, my loves ✨🎆💞

warning(s): mentions/threats of violence, sexual jokes, y/n commits arson but in a girly pop way (pls don't try this at home), character assassination of mark

playlist: get him back! by olivia rodrigo ― is it new years yet? sabrina carpenter ― drinks or coffee by rosé ― risk by gracie abrams ― mastermind by taylor swift

additional: check out a nonsense christmas: reddit edition collab!

r/AmITheAsshole

u/justgirlythings-arson119 • 3d

AITA for setting my cheating ex’s car on fire? (and then falling for his cousin)

I (24F) caught my boyfriend cheating on me with a discord kitten he met on League of Legends two days before our anniversary. I proceeded to have the biggest crash out ever known to man, bought a gallon of gasoline, went to his house in the middle of the night, and lit his car on fire. I had completely forgotten his cousin was a firefighter in the area, and he showed up at the scene, which hindered my masterful plan a little bit. Luckily, my ex didn’t press any charges though because no way in hell he’s going to admit he has a discord kitten in a court of law. Anyways, the next day, my ex groveled and begged me to go to his family’s Christmas party with him so that he could save face in front of his mommy. Long story short―let’s just say it didn’t go well. His cousin ended up driving me home, and I think maybe I’ve fallen for him? 

⥣ 9.8k ⥥ 1,439 Comments

mcballs-im-lovin-it0323 • 2d YTA for not crashing out even harder bc i woulda slept with his entire bloodline if he played in my face like that 🙂‍↕️

➥ Reply ⥣ 2.8k ⥥

picklepounder1010 • 1d would’ve had him calling me mama, papa, auntie, uncle, grandma, grandpa etc fr 😩 ➥ ⥣ 943 ⥥

god-of-donuts0423 • 1d YTA for dating a lol player

➥ Reply ⥣ 1.1k ⥥

goonknight1027 • 5h no way this post is about that twink lol streamer ➥ ⥣ 629 ⥥

part one | oh, i wanna key his car…or light it ablaze?

onyourmark 12/1/2024 3:03 PM heyyy u play lol too 😂

onyourmark 12/1/2024 3:05 PM im a yasuo main 😂

onyourmark 12/1/2024 3:10 PMwhat kinda asian are u

onyourmark 12/1/2024 3:10 PMwhatchu look like

onyourmark 12/1/2024 3:10 PMsorry was that too much 😂😂😂

Your best friend, Rosie, has to put your phone down and take a few deep breaths. “I think I���m going to throw up.”

“Keep going. You haven’t even seen the worst of it,” you respond through a mouthful of strawberry ice cream, completely deadpan. 

onyourmark 12/7/2024 6:21 AM ahh 😂😂

onyourmark 12/7/2024 6:22 PM *kisses you*

onyourmark 12/12/2024 5:39 PM can i tell U something weird :3 😂

onyourmark 12/12/2024 5:40 PM[Audio Message]

onyourmark 12/12/2024 5:39 PMi wrote this rap about my feelings for y baby girl

onyourmark 12/12/2024 5:39 PMbecause uve been such a good gril for me

onyourmark 12/12/2024 5:57 PM holy fck holy dcking fck that body of urs is absurd

Rosie covers her mouth with her hand, closing her eyes in a grimace. “No way he copied Adam Levine unironically.” 

“Keep going.”

onyourmark Yesterday at 1:20 AMwhen can i see u

onyourmark Yesterday at 1:20 AM ill be free after christmas

onyourmark Yesterday at 1:20 AM after annyign fam stuff 😂😂😂

Every message Rosie reads feels like another sucker punch in your gut and your ego, but you just dig your spoon into the tub of ice cream with even more force and let her keep going. Every time you blink, you feel dried up mascara flaking off your eyelashes and getting stuck in the dried tears and snot on your cheeks. 

“‘Annoying fam stuff?’ Is he talking about your anniversary?” Rosie demands.

Yes, your anniversary with your now ex-boyfriend, Mark Lee, is on Christmas. You used to think it was romantic. What a goddamn idiot you were. 

“At least he called me family,” you reply wryly, a hysterical laugh rattling in your chest like a wet cough. 

Rosie shakes her head and hands your phone back to you. “I can’t read any more of this. I’m going to be sick. I thought Discord mods and Discord kittens were just memes. I can’t believe people like him actually exist.” 

You just shrug.

“Where the hell is he now?” She crosses her arms. 

“Probably at his parents’ house. They’re on a ski trip, and they won’t be back until tomorrow,” you sigh, getting a headache thinking about how you were going to explain this to Mark’s parents. 

“Good. Change the locks on your door before he tries to come crawling back. He’s done mooching off you,” Rosie huffs. 

“You were right,” you state matter-of-factly, “That he was just a jobless bum loser who’s a momma’s boy.” 

She looks guilty, leaning over and giving you a hug. “I’m sorry, Y/N.” 

You think about the time you first met Mark, when the two of you were just starry-eyed freshmen in college together. He was so awkward and shy that it took almost an entire semester for him to finally look you in the eye. He followed you around like a sad puppy and would get flustered at any prolonged amount of attention you gave him. After about three years of him being hopelessly in love with you and unable to work up the courage to ask you out, you finally decided to give him a chance in your final year of college. It was a white Christmas, and you remember his trembling hands holding your face, freezing cold fingertips brushing your cheeks, and how red his nose was when he leaned in to kiss you. He looked at you as if you were a goddess that was put on this Earth purely for him to worship. 

Maybe that’s why you moved in together with him when the two of you graduated, even when he was unemployed and you supported him financially. Maybe that’s why you smiled and nodded when he told you he wanted to try being a Twitch streamer. Maybe that’s why you gifted him his first microphone for his setup, or baked him a cake when he finally got his first viewer (even though it was actually a secret account that you made in order to boost his confidence). Maybe that’s why you never complained when he started skipping out on dates (sometimes even your birthday) in favor of growing his audience, or when he bought you extravagant gifts like jewelry or designer clothes without any clue of your preference or size. Maybe that’s why you chose to ignore the churning feeling in the pit of your stomach when you noticed his eyes starting to drift towards anything but you.

Maybe you were always the one who worshipped him. 

It’s almost comical how easily almost a decade of your life has gone down the drain―and all it took was a couple of laughing emojis. In the end, the one who loves more is always the one who loses the most. 

You gave up your best years to Mark Lee, and yet you seemed to have run out of tears to cry for this man. 

Instead, all you have left now is pure, unbridled rage boiling inside of you. It’s the kind of anger that needs to simmer first―the kind that manifests first as a calm indifference before it finally bubbles over into a complete meltdown. But you’ll be damned before you set fire to your mental health and personal belongings that you worked tooth and nail for over a man who ruined your life. 

So, you’ve decided to set fire to something else. 

“Rosie,” you say softly, your voice chillingly serene. “I’m going to set his car on fire.” 

Rosie laughs. “Want me to be your getaway driver?” 

“No, I wouldn’t want to implicate you,” you respond smoothly. “Besides, I want him to know that I’m the one who did it.” 

She looks at you for a moment, trying to decide if you’re joking or not. “Are you sure you’re okay?” 

“Yes. I don’t have the energy to care about him anymore,” you answer―only a half lie. “You should go now. I know you have a late shift tonight.” 

Rosie gives you another tight squeeze. “Call me if you need anything, okay? I’m off this weekend, so we should go get drunk off our asses.” 

After she leaves, you slowly get up and make your way to the bathroom. You wash your face in the sink, scrubbing on the gunk off, and apply a fresh layer of makeup. If you’re going to do this, you’re going to make sure you look hot as hell (pun intended). Once you’re done, you make your way to the nearest gas station and purchase a gallon of gasoline before promptly driving to Mark’s parent’s house. 

By the time you get there, it’s already close to midnight, and not even the darkness can shroud Mark’s new Tesla Cybertruck. You remember when he bought it because you had to pay for half of his rent for the month because he was saving up for it―the smug grin on his face, as he announced it to his Twitch chat. You’re embarrassed at how happy you were for him, and you didn’t even have the heart to tell him how hideous you found it. The truck’s mirrored exterior reflects the moon in the starless night sky, and the full moon almost looks like a shiny, pretty bullseye calling out for you to destroy it. 

Without hesitation, you get out of your car and immediately start dumping gasoline all over and around the car. The scent of gasoline normally makes you nauseous, but the scent of revenge smells even sweeter. Before you take out your lighter, you pick up a large piece of broken concrete from his driveway. With all of the strength you can muster, you hurl the concrete into the driver side window of the truck and watch your reflection shatter along with the glass. 

The car alarm starts blaring, and you wait for the light in Mark’s room to blink on. You see his silhouette as he opens his blinds and peers out, just to lock eyes with you. He gawks at you like he’s just seen a ghost, and it doesn’t take long for him to make his way down to you. As he stumbles down the driveway, you take out your lighter and flick it on, letting it slowly slip from your fingertips. Your heart swells with a hysterical sense of glee as his eyes widen, the orange flames reflecting in his teary eyes. His Cybertruck is set ablaze with a Hollywood-esque level of perfection, and the fire gives your face a golden glow as if you were the starring actress. 

“Y/N! Are you fucking crazy?” Mark hollers over the crackle of the flames, voice breaking. 

“Oh, you bet I fucking am,” you laugh. 

“I’m gonna sue you―you bitch! Have you thrown in jail!” he screams, fishing his phone out of his pocket and punching in 911 on the keypad. “I’m calling the cops right now!” 

“Do it, you spineless piece of shit! I’m going to make sure everyone in this damn neighborhood and on the internet knows what a lying, cheating, soul-sucking little leech you are!” you yell back at him. “I’m going to ruin your fucking career first and then happily walk my ass down to the police station.”

That makes Mark stop in his tracks, his thumb hovering over the dial button. He can’t control the fear on his face. “No one is gonna believe you.” 

“Aw, you sure no one will believe me when I show everyone the screenshots of your DMs with uwukittenbb69?” you taunt. 

“I’ll say they’re fake!” he nearly screeches. 

“Let’s fucking go then! My word against yours. We’ll see who they believe,” you challenge. 

Mark falters and takes a small step forward. “W-Wait…” 

Unfortunately for him, he’s interrupted by the squealing sirens of a firetruck pulling up to the street. You and Mark exchange glances, and you silently dare him to report you, before both of you turn towards the firefighters exiting the truck. 

“Mark…and Y/N?” 

Your eyes widen at the sound of the approaching firefighter’s voice. You watch in horror as the firefighter removes his helmet, and you get a clearer look at his face. Tufts of wavy caramel-colored hair sticking out, a youthful and angelic face that doesn’t suit his occupation, and heart-shaped lips turned downwards in concern―it’s Mark’s cousin, Donghyuck. You’ve met him a decent amount of times at family gatherings, and he sometimes drops by you and Mark’s apartment to deliver homemade food from his mom. Donghyuck has always been kind to you, and you didn’t want him to see you like this.

Donghyuck’s confusion is short-lived before his attention falls back to the fire and how close you are to it. He quickly grabs your arm and pulls you away from the burning truck. 

“Be careful. Are you hurt?” he asks carefully, eyes scanning your face with precision. “And why aren’t you wearing a jacket? It’s freezing out here.” 

You open your mouth to try and fumble out an answer, but you flinch at the sound of Donghyuck’s colleagues blasting Mark’s car with water from the firetruck’s power hose. All that’s left of the Cybertruck is a deformed and blackened pile of scrap metal with a plume of smoke rising from it. You can’t help the sense of satisfaction you feel. 

“Don’t breathe in the smoke. It’s not good for you,” Donghyuck urges, gently sticking an arm in front of you and gesturing for you to step back even further. “Come with me. There’s blankets in the back of the truck.”

“I’m fine,” you finally manage to say, shaking your head. “I’m not cold.” 

It’s true; the fire you set has been more than enough to make your insides feel all warm and fuzzy. He doesn’t look like he believes you but doesn’t try to push any further. 

“Okay, so what the hell happened here? We got a call from the neighbors saying there was a blazing ball on fire in Mark’s driveway and that the two of you were in a screaming match.” 

“Ask Mark,” is all you say. 

Donghyuck raises an eyebrow. 

“It was an accident.”

As if on cue, Mark suddenly materializes next to you and Donghyuck―a restless expression on his face. He probably thought you were telling Donghyuck what he did to you and rushed over. 

“What?” Donghyuck’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. “You’re saying that was an accident?”

“Yeah. I was just…messing around. Don’t worry about it. It was an accident,” Mark says through gritted teeth, sounding completely defeated. 

The corners of your mouth twitch when you chime in, “A senseless accident.” 

Donghyuck is completely speechless as he glances between the two of you. However, you look past him and watch the fireworks exploding in the dark sky. Pulling out your phone, you see that it’s midnight, meaning it’s officially the 25th of December. Glancing over at Mark, you see him trembling in the cold with a sniffly red nose and bloodshot eyes. He’s staring straight at the ground, fists clenched. 

You smile. 

part two | wanna push him in the fireplace and watch him burn!

When you finally get home that night, you draw yourself a steaming hot bubble bath and even use the fancy bath bomb that Rosie bought you. After you get dressed, you make a charcuterie board and pour yourself a glass of wine as well before falling asleep to a Hallmark movie playing on your television. It’s probably the best sleep you’ve gotten over the past month. 

You wake up in the morning feeling refreshed, a certain five-foot-nine burden lifted from your shoulders, and text all of your friends and family your holiday greetings. Rosie invited you out to her family gathering because she didn’t want you to be alone on Christmas, but you declined. You decided to stay home and get some cleaning done. Of course, by cleaning, you mean boxing up all of Mark’s stuff and donating it to Goodwill. You initially wanted to burn everything, but you’ve committed enough arson already. 

Just as you’re getting ready to make a hearty breakfast in preparation for the mass Mark exodus, you hear the door to your apartment being opened, and your blood runs cold when you realize you haven’t changed the lock. Then your cold blood begins to boil at the audacity that Mark still must have in his pathetic little body to even dream of stepping foot in your home. 

Gripping your frying pan tightly, you march out of the kitchen to greet him. Mark at least has the sense to shrivel back when he sees you approach him. To your delight, he looks absolutely terrible. It’s obvious he didn’t get any sleep nor did he feel the need to change out of his pajamas. 

“I know you’re mad,” he says quickly, holding his hands out as if ready to block a punch.

“If you actually knew that, you wouldn’t have stepped foot in my apartment,” you say nonchalantly. “You have ten seconds to give my key back to me and get the hell out before you have to call the cops again.”

“Chill, chill,” he mutters, “I’m just here for my stuff―”

“Don’t tell me to chill. I’ve always hated it when you tell me that. It makes you sound like a patronizing douchebag, which you are, of course,” you snap. “You’re insane if you think I’m going to let you just waltz in here and casually get your stuff. Most of which I paid for, by the way.”

“Y/N, come on,” he sighs. “at least let me get my PC setup.”

That makes you burst out laughing. “Holy shit. You really have the gall to ask me for your PC setup? Are you on actual crack? Get the fuck out!”

“Okay, okay, okay. I’m sorry, okay? Just one more thing―”

“Don’t make me swear to Jesus on his birthday―” 

“My mom wants you to come to the Christmas party this afternoon,” he blurts out, squeezing his eyes shut. “I…haven’t told her yet. I wanted us to tell her, um, together, after the party.”

He doesn’t need to say it for you to understand what he’s implying. He wants to make it seem like the breakup was mutual to save his reputation and because he knows his mom will lose her mind. He’s pretended to be her perfect little boy his entire life, a momma’s boy to the very core, so he can’t ever let her know what a bottomfeeder he is. 

“Is this some sort of social experiment to see how far you can push my limits before I finally snap? Again?” you ask incredulously. 

“Please, Y/N. I’ll do anything. I won’t ask for my stuff anymore. I won’t tell anyone about the car thing. I promise you that you won’t ever see me again if you do me this favor,” Mark sputters.

You hate that you still hesitate, despite how much you’re disgusted by him. It makes you feel like you haven’t completely axed the part of you that was in love with him, and that sickens you. However, Mrs. Lee has always been like a second mother to you, and it doesn’t feel right to just cut her off without a proper goodbye just because her son is a cretin. You suppose this could be good closure for such an ill-fated relationship. 

“You swear on your life that you’ll leave me alone forever after this?” you ask, crossing your arms.

Mark nods profusely.

“Fine. I’m only staying for an hour, and I don’t care if the party isn’t over yet. We’re going to tell her within that period or else,” you state. 

“Thank you. Thank you so much, Y/N.” Mark opens his arms to hug you, and it takes every fiber in your being not to whack him across the head with your frying pan. 

“Do not touch me,” you warn, “Now get out.” 

To his credit, he promptly hightails it out of your apartment (perhaps he finally noticed the murderous glint in your eye). You almost immediately regret agreeing, but you tell yourself that today is the last day that you’ll ever have to deal with the likes of Mark Lee again. Putting a hold on cleaning, you get ready for the party instead, donning a cute holiday fit that you had prepared especially for today since it was supposed to be your anniversary. Now, it makes for a great revenge dress. 

Mark had texted you to let you know to bring a gift since there would be a white elephant gift exchange, and half of you wants to call him and scream at him for not letting you know sooner and the other half is screaming at yourself for forgetting to block him. Not having enough time to go out and buy a gift, you decide to wrap up the scarf that you knitted for Mark. You stayed up all night after you got off work to make it for him, and it looks a bit wonky, but you thought he would appreciate it. You feel bad for whoever receives it, but there has to be a few duds in the mix or it’s not a true white elephant experience. Maybe they can use the scarf to wipe up their dog’s piss or something.

When you drive back to Mark’s parents’ house, it’s an ironic clash of atmospheres. The place is decked out with Christmas decorations, an amalgamation of rainbow lights, inflatable snowmen, and wreaths on every door and window. Yet, you can also see remnants of the dark burn marks in their driveway. Mark must have managed to call a tow to take his Cybertruck away just in the nick of time. You do wonder how he managed to explain the burn marks, though. 

Taking in a deep breath, you hype yourself up in your car visor mirror before stepping out and walking to the front door. Before you can even knock, Mrs. Lee opens the door and envelops you in a bear hug. She smells like sugar cookies, and it occurs to you how much you’ll miss her. 

“Oh, sweetie! I’m so glad you’re here,” she coos, cupping your face. She then ushers you into the living room, linking her arm through yours. “I was so worried because I thought the two of you got into a fight while we were on our trip.”

You just smile uncomfortably. “O-Oh.” 

“A mother’s intuition is always right, you know,” she says, winking, “Plus, I knew something was off when Mark told us he’d be staying at our place for a couple nights. Poor boy was a mess, you know. He somehow managed to total his car in the driveway! Can you believe it? He really needs you around to whip him into shape!” 

You hope she can’t see you holding in a laugh. As you’re walking, you scan the room for Mark, but he’s nowhere to be seen. It doesn’t surprise you one bit that you’re being treated as fodder so he can hide in his room. 

“Anyways, say hi to everyone!” She leads you directly into a circle of Mark’s aunt and uncles. You give them all an awkward hello and try to slink away while they all converse, but one of Mark’s aunts turns towards you. 

“So, how long have you and Mark been together, honey?” she asks. 

“Um, about four years―”

“Oh, but they’ve known each other for much longer than that. Seven years! Mark had the biggest crush on her, you know,” Mrs. Lee interjects. 

“My goodness, does that mean we’ll be hearing wedding bells soon?” Mark’s aunt teases. The rest of the circle oohs and ahhs, and you want to strangle yourself with a garland. 

“I mean, what is he waiting for anyway? He’s making loads of money on the Internet now, isn’t he?” she continues. 

“Exactly. I want grandchildren, you know,” Mrs. Lee huffs. 

Unable to bite back your words anymore, you clear your throat loudly. “I have something I need to―” 

“Oh, Y/N! I’ve been looking for you,” another voice chimes in. 

All of you turn around, and a gasp nearly escapes you when you see Donghyuck standing in front of you. He’s in a white cable knit sweater, and his wavy hair looks so fluffy that you almost want to reach out and touch it. His cheeks are a bit flushed, probably because he’s in such thick clothing (or Mrs. Lee’s famous spiked eggnog). Without his uniform on, he looks much softer, dreamier. 

“You…have?” you ask, bewildered. 

“Yup! Come on, I gotta ask you something,” he answers cheerfully, gesturing for you to follow him. 

You’re a bit wary of what he’s scheming, but you’d rather risk it than have to deal with any more marriage talk, so you gladly let him whisk you away from the crowd. Donghyuck leads you to a less crowded part of the room, swiping a piece of chocolate cake when he walks past the dessert table, and tucks himself into a corner that’s concealed by a giant Christmas tree. 

“Here we go. I introduce to you my super covert corner that I stand in when I want to avoid nosy relatives,” he says in a sing-song voice before offering you the cake in his hand. “Would you like some German chocolate cake made by yours truly? It’s pretty damn average, if I do say so myself.” 

You pause, only just now realizing that Donghyuck helped you out. You suppose you have nothing to lose, so you accept the cake. “Oh. Thank you. So, you didn’t have anything you wanted to ask me?” 

“Well, actually, I do,” he hums, giving you a sheepish grin. “You set Mark’s car on fire last night, didn’t you?”

Part of you already expected this question coming, so you manage to keep your expression neutral. “Are you accusing me?” 

“Why, I wouldn’t dare. Besides, I don’t need to. I know you did,” he says casually, shrugging.

Even though you should feel panicked, you don’t. In fact, Donghyuck almost seems to find it amusing. 

“Do you have proof?”

“Mark told me,” he states sweetly.

You sigh loudly, immediately giving up the ruse. “I knew that damn lowlife would yap.” 

“So, what did he do?” 

“Of course, he told you what I did but didn’t tell you what he did,” you snort. 

“What, he cheat or something?” 

“Worse.” 

You pull out your phone and show Donghyuck Mark’s Discord DMs and watch his expression morph into disgust as you indulge in the cake he gave you. The dessert is perfectly average as he said, but there’s something charming about it. In that way, the cake is quite similar to its maker. 

“As a government employee and resident fighter of fires, nothing justifies arson,” he states after a brief moment to collect his thoughts, “but this comes pretty damn close.” 

You give him a smug I-told-you-so look.

“But seriously, what you did was really dangerous, Y/N. You could have injured yourself badly. That jackass is not worth getting third-degree burns over. There are better ways to get revenge, you know,” he lectures.

“Like what?” You raise an eyebrow.

“I don’t know, like TP or egg his car or something. Slash his tires?” 

“God, are you from a 90s movie or something? That’s lame as hell,” you snort, taking another bite of cake.

“Dig your key into the side of his pretty little souped up four-wheel drive? Carve your name into his leather seats? Take a Louisville slugger to both headlights? Slash a hole in all four tires?” He wriggles his eyebrows. 

“Are you quoting Before He Cheats by Carrie Underwood?” you ask incredulously.

“Maybe next time he’ll think before he cheats…” Donghyuck sings, purposefully off-key. 

You can’t fight that smile that spreads across your face, and it eventually turns into a full-on belly laugh when he continues to sing. It’s the first genuine laugh, the first moment of brief happiness and relief, that you’ve felt in a long time. You thought you had it when you set Mark’s car on fire, but something still coiled in the pit of your stomach like simmering, black smoke. In this tiny little corner that smells of pine needles and chocolate cake, you feel free like a clear sky after a long winter storm.

“For the record,” Donghyuck says, voice gently dipping, “you’ve always been too good for him, and everyone knows it―including him. He’ll regret what he did to you for the rest of his life. That’s your revenge.” 

Your breath staccatos in your chest at his words. You tell yourself that he has always been a smooth talker, but he looks at you with such honesty and warmth that you want to believe him. 

“Have you always been this sweet?” You meant for the words to come out in a teasing manner, but your voice is tinged with breathlessness. 

Donghyuck grins, and his lips remind you of the heart-shaped lollipops that you see in the store during Valentine’s Day. “The sweetest.” 

A part of you wonders what would happen if you craned your neck and kissed him right here and now. Not because you’re romantically interested in him, of course. Rather, it would be a spectacular way to get revenge on Mark. Most girls go for the brother or the best friend―maybe even the dad if one is particularly ambitious―but the cousin is an untapped (pun NOT intended) medium for revenge. 

You wonder if Donghyuck tastes like cookies or wine-filled chocolates or spiked eggnog or even fruitcake. You really hate fruitcake, but you suppose you wouldn’t mind for the sake of revenge. 

But you would never do that to him. He’s much too kind of a person to be involved in you and Mark’s mess. The fact that you’re able to confide in him and he actually takes your side is something that you truly appreciate. As much as you want to torment Mark, it’s best to just end it here. 

“You can use me too, you know,” Donghyuck adds.

“Huh?” You blink.

“For your revenge,” he clarifies. “Use me. To make him jealous, to bully him, whatever you want.” 

For a moment, you almost believe he somehow read your mind. 

“Just wanted to let you know,” he says, shrugging, “since you probably think it would be too mean. Plus, I think you would need my help anyways.”

That makes you feel greatly offended. “What is that supposed to mean? You say that like I didn’t set a car on fire.” 

“You’re too naive in your thinking. Revenge doesn’t always have to be loud and in your face like that. It’s a lot more fun when you break them down psychologically in more subtle ways,” he explains.

“So, you―as a government employee―can’t approve of me committing arson because I got cheated on, but you―as a government employee―can casually and openly discuss waging psychological warfare on another civilian. On said person who cheated on me, who also happens to be your cousin because you seemed to have forgotten that, ” you point out sardonically. 

Donghyuck just smiles before slightly leaning in, eyes flickering down to your lips. You open your mouth to retort but your words instantly die in your throat, softly gasping when his hand brushes your chin as he reaches over and swipes a bit of chocolate frosting from your bottom lip with his thumb. 

“Sure I can,” he answers smoothly, “because, unlike a certain someone, I won’t get caught.” 

“I didn’t―”

“And by the way, Mark didn’t tell me you set his car on fire.” 

You gawk at him as he walks past you with a content grin on his face. “Now come on, I hear my aunt calling for us.” 

Maybe you need to take back your earlier statement of Donghyuck being too kind. He might actually have more screws loose than you.

.

.

.

You almost completely forget about Mark until he finally comes downstairs for the white elephant exchange. You’re in such a daze from your earlier interaction with Donghyuck that you barely recoil when Mark takes a seat beside you on the couch, especially since Donghyuck is sitting in the rocking chair directly across from you. 

The gift exchange begins once everyone has drawn a number, and you honestly just dissociate for the first half of it. Keeping your gaze trained on the piece of paper that has 26 scribbled on it, you don’t look up until you feel Mark get up beside you and pick a gift from the pile. You’re praying to both Jesus and Santa that he doesn’t pick yours, but you suppose you've been deemed a sinner and also put on the Naughty List (maybe for setting your cheating ex’s care on fire?) because Mark somehow manages to find yours in the pile of presents. 

When he opens it, you can tell by the way he quickly glances at you that he knows it’s yours. After all, he saw you practicing your knitting throughout the week. He happily wraps it around his neck and beams proudly. “I love it.”

The way he carefully looks back at you makes you want to smack him into the new year. You know he’s trying to get on your good side, and you make it clear with your scowl that it isn’t working. 

You’re actually grateful that it’s your turn next so that you’re able to get up and walk away from him. Wanting to get this entire situation over with, you haphazardly grab one from the top of the pile. Your heart sinks when you take out the stuffing paper from the bag and realize that it’s Mark’s gift. You contemplate putting the paper back in and not opening it at all, but you cave under the pressure of all the expectant pairs of eyes on you. 

In typical Mark fashion, his gift is a signed T-shirt of his own merch. It’s an obnoxious yellow color with his Twitch username and a giant screen printed image of his face plastered across it. He’s written his signature right over his forehead, so it makes him look like he has random chicken scratch on his face. 

“Oh, it must be destiny!” Mrs. Lee exclaims, clapping her hands together. 

You force a smile before returning to your seat, doing everything in your power to ignore Mark’s stupid giddy expression. Shoving the shirt back into the bag, you casually kick it away from you. 

A couple more people take their turns, and you’re counting down the seconds to when this is finally over so you can go home. Eventually, it’s Donghyuck’s turn, and he saunters towards you and holds his hand out. 

“Gimme.”

You blink at him.

“Your gift. I’m stealing it,” he explains, wiggling his fingers. 

“You want…this?” you ask, completely baffled. 

“Well, duh. It’s going to sell for a lot of money, you know.” He winks. 

You can’t help but laugh when you realize he’s helping you out again. “This has to be unethical. Aren’t you a government employee?” 

“Government employees need to make money too,” he replies, sighing. 

“Well, if you really want it, I guess I have no choice,” you huff, faking exasperation before handing him the bag. 

You’re smiling when he takes it and walks back to his chair, and you hear Mark grumble something under his breath. Turning to him, you raise an eyebrow, snippily asking, “What?”

“I said,” he repeats so loudly that it reverberates throughout the room, “when did the two of you get so friendly?” 

A silence falls over everyone, and the two of you are now center stage. 

“Are you really going to do this now?” you hiss. 

“I noticed that the two of you were getting awfully cozy behind the Christmas tree earlier,” Mark retorts, shrugging. 

Donghyuck gets up to intervene, but he doesn’t have time to even react before you grab a pillow from the couch and chuck it in Mark’s face. 

“You’ve got some nerve. Was this your plan all along? To make me look like the bad guy in front of your family?” you demand, feeling your face grow hotter and hotter from rage. “You and uwukittenbb69 were getting awfully cozy too, don’t you think? I’d say snug as a bug in a goddamn rug even.” 

Mark stands up in a flash, his eyes frantically glancing at his mom before pointing his finger at you. “Baby, I told you she was just a friend.” 

You nearly choke on air when you hear him call you that. Making a beeline towards the pile of presents, you begin to toss them at Mark with each question you add. “You absolute lunatic. Do friends beg each other for pictures of their tits? Do friends write raps confessing their love for one another? Do friends blow off their anniversary with their girlfriend so that they can meet up for a quick booty call? And yes, I’m saying quick because you and I both know it’ll be a speedy endeavor.”

“What on Earth is going on?” Mrs. Lee cries out as Mark tries his best to swat away the presents being hurled at him. 

“You’re a psycho bitch,” Mark yells. “It’s not like I actually slept with her. We were just messing around online. You got jealous over nothing. And you set my car on fire!” 

“You wanna see psycho?” you snap, throwing the present in your hands down onto the floor and marching towards him with your bare fists before you suddenly stop and take in your surroundings. You see the horror and shock on everyone’s faces, the way they’re looking at you, and then perhaps most clear of all―Mark’s expression. He’s angry just like you, but there’s a glimmer of victory in his eyes. As if he’s bested you in some manner. 

And he has. You’re the villain now.

Taking in a deep breath, you will yourself to walk over to Mark in a calm manner, looking him directly in the eye. 

“You’re nothing except a liar and a cheater, Mark Lee. That will never change that no matter how much you try to spin it in front of your family. You built your success off my back, and I hope that haunts you for the rest of your life. May you receive everything that you’ve done to me tenfold. That’s all I want to say—” You pause. “Oh, and I’ve always thought your Cybertruck was fucking ugly.” 

You reach over and snatch the scarf from his neck before turning and walking out of the door, feeling like you finally managed to cut off the ball and chain around your ankle. Just as you’re about to reach your car, you hear someone calling after you. 

“I’ll drive you home,” Donghyuck says once he catches up to you. 

“I’m not so distraught that I’ll become a hazard on the road,” you say wryly

“Well, when it comes to being around a car, you’ve certainly proved that you’re not exactly at your most dangerous when you’re behind the wheel,” he jokes. 

“You may have a point,” you acknowledge, giving him a small smile.

“Let me drive you home, Y/N. I’m worried about you,” he insists again, much quieter this time. 

“How are you going to get back then?” You raise an eyebrow. 

“I’ll call an Uber or something.” 

“That would be such a waste of money,” you snort.

“Not if it’s for you,” he says almost instantly. His normally brown eyes almost look auburn when under the golden glow of the sunset. 

There’s such determination, such assurance, such warmth in his gaze that you let yourself be surrounded with, no longer having the energy to resist him, and it feels like falling onto a soft cloud after a long, winding journey. For once, you just want someone to take care of you, even if it’s just for a moment. 

“Fine. Do as you please,” you relent, tossing him your car keys before walking around to the passenger side and climbing in. 

Donghyuck looks relieved, beaming when he situates himself in the driver’s seat. You try not to be impressed with the way he easily backs out of the driveway with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the headrest behind you, maneuvering the wheel with a deftness you’ve never seen before. Then again, he does drive a massive fire truck on the daily, so your Toyota probably isn’t much of a challenge for him. 

He drives with his eyes staring straight down the road―almost too focused―because you know he’s trying not to look at you. Probably because you’re making it abundantly clear that you don’t want him to look at you, leaning your head against the window and away from him. It doesn’t mean that you don’t see his wandering eyes, almost as if it were second nature, drift back to you in the reflection of the window.

“Pathetic, right?” you finally say, feeling suffocated by the heavy silence.

“What’s pathetic?” 

“Me.” 

“Why would you be pathetic?” Donghyuck grips the steering wheel tightly, knuckles turning white as the leather creaks under the force of his hold.

“Mark was right. I talked a big game in front of him, but in the end, I was just the psycho ex-girlfriend. I told myself that I would never let him hold my emotions hostage anymore. That I would erase any care I had for him left in me. Because indifference means that I’m truly free. But I couldn’t do it. I really hate him, to my very core, and that means he still has power over me. I hate that most of all. I want him to feel the same pain I did, and I want to exact revenge on him, but at the same time, I want to move on with my life. I’m like a dog chasing my own tail; it’s pathetic.” 

You wanted to sound more lighthearted about this, turn it into a joke, but Donghyuck seems to draw out a vulnerability within you that makes you want to tell him everything you’ve been trying to desperately ignore. 

“Y/N, you’re dealing with the end of a long-term relationship. It’s only natural that you have confusing and conflicting feelings about everything. You’re not pathetic; you’re human. Mark stole your girlhood and your youth, and it’s going to take time for you to heal from that. It’s impossible to immediately get back on your feet after what he did to you. None of this is your fault, so don’t ever berate yourself,” Donghyuck’s voice trembles as he speaks. “I promise you that one day, you’re going to wake up and you’ll realize that you don’t remember what Mark's favorite food is. His favorite movie. His favorite color. Then you’ll realize that you can barely even remember what his face looks like when he’s sad, happy, angry. Eventually, you’ll forget about him entirely, and all the pain he caused you will just be seconds of your life that evaporates from your mind completely.”

When he speaks to you like there’s nothing he’s more sure of in this world, it makes you want to believe him. You want to be his promise. 

“Thank you, Donghyuck,” you whisper, placing your hand on top of his for just a moment before pulling away. Your touch is feather light, but you hope he didn’t notice the way your fingertips lingered a second longer. 

The two of you fall quiet again, but this time, the silence is much more comfortable now. You’re almost disappointed when he pulls into your apartment complex, unsure of how to say goodbye to him. 

“Would you like some hot cocoa or something?” you blurt out when he parks. “I think I have some in my apartment.”

You don’t realize how suggestive your offer sounds until it’s too late. Donghyuck hesitates for a moment, and you can tell he’s debating on if he should tease you about it or not. To your surprise, he doesn’t.

“Nah, it’s okay. It’s getting dark soon, so I should head back.” He pulls out his phone and starts ordering an Uber. 

“Want me to wait with you then?” You’re not sure why you keep insisting on staying with him, but this day has been so batshit insane that you almost feel like a passenger in your own body. 

“Probably not a good idea,” he chuckles.

Now, you feel both confused and slightly offended again.

“And why is that? I know I’ve been a bit of a menace today, but still…” you trail off awkwardly. 

Donghyuck pauses for a moment as he stares at you; his face is closer to yours than it’s ever been because you’re sitting right next to him. You can tell he’s thinking very carefully about his next words. It occurs to you that, for a guy as seemingly flippant as him, he is actually quite thoughtful.

“You know, I’ve been compared to Mark my entire life,” he begins, musing. 

“Sooo…you didn’t want me to wait with you because you’re gearing up for a trauma dump?” You raise an eyebrow. 

Donghyuck holds his hand up in front of you, shushing you. “Shh, let me have my big moment.” 

“Sorry. Please proceed.” 

“Ahem. As I was saying, I was but a poor, innocent wee boy living in the shadow of the golden child in our family. Mark was always the more athletic, the funnier, the more charming one. His grades were ass, but he always managed to get out of trouble because he was the favorite. When I got my job as a firefighter and he was unemployed, my family barely congratulated me or even acknowledged it at all because they were afraid they would upset Mark. You see, I’ve actually lived quite a tragic life,” Donghyuck sniffles, wiping away a fake tear. 

“What a shame that they can’t see how wonderful you are,” you chime in, a smile in your voice. 

Your honesty in response to his joke visibly catches him off guard, and he blinks a couple of times before your words finally register. 

“Right?” he huffs dramatically, but he can��t seem to meet your eyes completely as a light flush dustes his face and ears. “But fret not, I didn’t particularly mind. It was nice not having to live up to any expectations. Besides, I was happy for Mark when he finally got successful as a streamer. We were raised like brothers, and I always admired him. I was proud of him.” 

“Ha, little did you know—”

“All this to say that, growing up, I’ve never been once jealous of Mark,” Donghyuck states proudly. 

Then he slowly looks over at you with longing eyes, almost as if his body turning itself towards you is a natural reflex. His expression is so soft and affectionate that it nearly takes your breath away. 

“That is, until he met you.” 

So, this is what Donghyuck looks like when he’s in love. You wonder if it would ever be possible for you to wake up one day and not remember it. 

But you aren’t sure if you return his feelings in the same way. Just like you couldn’t bring yourself to use him for your revenge, you can’t bring yourself to ask him to wait for you while you figure out the mess of your current emotional state. The one who loves more always loses, and you don’t want to lose Donghyuck. 

“I just wanted to tell you that,” he continues, “I’m not expecting a response. It’s for the better you don’t respond right now anyways. If you want to pretend like this conversation was all a bad dream conjured up by sleep paralysis and never want to talk about it again, I’m okay with that too.” 

You smile. 

“But…if you’re able to, just look my way sometimes. I’ll do everything in my power to keep your attention, even if I have to get on a unicycle with a clown nose and juggle. And, if one day, you find yourself looking for me on your own, let me know. Then, I’ll ask for an answer,” Donghyuck promises.  

True to your word, you don’t give him an answer. Instead, you take the scarf that’s been laying across your lap—the scarf with a few holes thanks to missing yarn and sections where you accidentally knitted the pattern in the wrong direction. Now it’s a bit stretched out due to you snatching it off Mark. 

But this scarf, as average (maybe even less) as it may be, is charming in its own way. 

Leaning forward, you wrap the scarf around Donghyuck’s neck. He watches you in complete awe, in a trance, as if he were in a dream and any movement would wake him up. 

“I should head inside now,” you say quietly, trying not to giggle at his stupefied expression.

He only nods dazedly, and you’re certain that would have been his reaction regardless of what you said. It takes a few more beats for your words to actually click before he clears his throat loudly. “Right. Yes. You should.” 

He hands you your keys back before stepping out of the car and opening your door for you. “I’ll wait down here until you get inside, and then I’ll go meet my Uber.” 

“Thanks for driving me,” you say, realizing you never thanked him. 

“You’re welcome. Good night, Y/N.” Donghyuck puts his hands in his pockets and tucks his chin into the scarf as he watches you go.

As your hand hovers over the doorknob, you know you should just open the door and walk inside so you don’t keep him waiting in the cold. You really shouldn’t look back because it would mean that you wanted to. Not because he asked you to. 

But you do. You look back—

only to meet his eyes, the two of you exchanging knowing smiles.

extra | is it me? am i the drama? i don’t think i’m the drama…

r/AmITheAsshole

u/justgirlythings-arson119 • 9h

(UPDATE) AITA for setting my cheating ex’s car on fire? (and then falling for his cousin)

So, it turns out my cheating ex got catfished. His supposed Discord kitten was actually some random guy and his friend who were dicking around. They ended up leaking the DMs so they’re all public now for those who would like to read them (by now, I’m sure you all know who my cheating ex is). I would highly advise against listening to the rap confession though. Godspeed if you choose to. I am also selling his expensive PC setup on Facebook Marketplace if anyone’s interested. Happy New Year!

P.S. I ended up inviting the cousin over for hot cocoa. He’s very sweet. 

⥣ 11.3k ⥥ 2,293 Comments

pissrevolver1122 • 8h rip bozo got catfished by me n bro for some robux 

➥ Reply ⥣ 3.8k ⥥

pooprevolver0205 • 8h can’t believe bro actually jacked off to a pic of knees LMAO ➥ ⥣ 1.9k ⥥

piss-k1nk0219 • 2h yall are about to have the awkwardest family get togethers ever lmao

➥ Reply ⥣ 910 ⥥

bigsnowballs0813 • 4h $5 and an iced coffee for the pc take it or leave it

➥ Reply ⥣ 748 ⥥

femboyluvr0701 • 1h are u gonna set the cousin's car on fire too

➥ Reply ⥣ 639 ⥥

justgirlythings-arson119 • 1h probably not he’s very good at putting out fires :(  ➥ ⥣ 482 ⥥

[gghostwriter]

Out of Sunshine

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Having forgotten your dinner date, Spencer comforts his usually sunshine girlfriend Trope:Fluff & Comfort w.c: 1.2k a/n: been very overwhelmed with responsibilities and wants lately that I just needed to write a self-indulgent fic. Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! 💗 masterlist

Spencer’s knock on your apartment door was met with silence. It was a starry Friday night and he had arranged a dinner reservation with you, his girlfriend for a year and a half, to the newly opened French restaurant along the main street. With a certain spring in his step, he settled with Hotch, and by extension the team, that he couldn’t be disturbed unless an emergency case comes in—something he silently wished not to happen. He had also picked up a bouquet of your favorites from the local florist. An array of whites that reminded him of the dress he first saw you wearing at the park.

He knocked again, ears straining to hear anything behind the dark wooden door. There was nothing. He balanced the bouquet on one hand and reached for the phone inside his satchel. It was quite unlike you to not answer the door.

The number you dialed is either unattended—

“Strange,” he muttered under his breath. During his morning phone call with you, a much needed routine to tide him through the macabre of his job, you sounded so excited about the dinner he’d planned and had even promised to wear the same white dress that had plagued his eidetic memory. He chuckled in reply before asking any plans for the day. There was a slight pause on your end, no doubt thinking of ways to pass time before night winds down, and you answer—

The studio, he remembered. You mentioned passing by your art studio to occupy time. He sighed in relief as he enters his vintage blue car parked on the the sidewalk, bouquet placed securely on the passenger seat. The clock on the dashboard tells him there’s still time to make it to the reservation, granted he wasn’t sure if you were ready to go.

A non-descriptive tune played from the radio as he turned left to enter the designated parking space of your studio building. It was a mixture of soft piano keys that sounded like spring and sunshine, both adjectives he loved to use to describe you.

When he finally found the courage to fumble his way in asking for your number, the smile that flashed on your face was blinding. It was as if he stared directly into the sun with little to no protection for his vision.

Over the course of multiple dates, he found himself waxing prose about you in his head. The pinking of your cheeks reminded him of strawberries ripening, so tempting to touch with his own pair of lips. The twinkle in your eyes, full of adoration and trust, made him feel strong and protective—like he was some kind of crow guarding his loot of sparkling treasure. And the bounce in your step wherever you’d go had him envisioning a sprig of wildflowers growing from each footprint, the nymph of his very own Spring.

He let himself in the studio, grateful you’ve trusted him with a spare key. “Sunshine,” he called out.

The light inside the four cornered room was on, windows all open for the paint fumes to escape, and there you were, hunched over an easel, furiously painting without any care of your surroundings.

He called your name, softer this time, as if to slowly ease you out of the artistic trance. The timber of his voice and his sudden presence led you to squeak in surprise, paintbrush dropping on the wooden streaked floor.

“It’s me, sunshine,” he raised his hands in front of him in surrender. “It’s me.”

Your nose scrunched up in question, a streak of blue dried paint on your cheek, adorable. How adorable you were in his eyes.

“What are you doing here?” you bent down to grab the brush before resuming your old position.

“It’s 7:50, love.”

You swiveled to face him, eyes wide in distress. Hands promptly reaching to turn over the faced down phone. “No, no—oh my god, I am so sorry!”

“It’s alright,” he tries to placate you but his words of comfort seem to fall on deaf ears. “Really, it’s alright. It happens to everyone.”

Tears were starting to build up in your eyes. Your hands were wrangling with the apron tied around your waist as you mutter a series of apologies again and again. “I’m sorry. So sorry—we can’t make it to our reservation now, can’t we? Spence, I’m so so sorry. I—I forgot,” a sob escaped from your throat. “I don’t know what to do.”

He puts down the flowers on the nearest available space, your stool, and steps into your space. Filling it with his perfume and warmth meant to comfort you. He could see how distressed you were—rocking on your heels, hands unable to stay put, and lower lip sandwiched in between your pearly teeth.

“Breathe. It’s completely fine, love. No harm done. Really, it’s alright.”

The tears come rushing down, staining your flushed cheeks with its tracks. “It’s not—how could I forget?”

“Sunshine, it’s okay. It happens to all of us and I know you’re quite busy, it’s understandable.”

You burrow into his chest some more, afraid of separating from him and the haven he brings.

He continued on. “I also know you’re overwhelmed, the exhibit is just around the corner and I know how important it is to you, I understand.”

Laying your cheek near his beating heart, you mutter a reply. “It’s really not—I don’t want you to think you’re not important to me too.”

His hands cupped your face to stare into your saddened eyes. Spencer couldn’t see the warmth and brightness that was always present in his sunshine. There was a cloud of rain and doubt covering its’ greatness. He understood no one could always be happy all the time but it bothered him to see you breaking down from stress.

“Shouldn’t I be the one worried about that?” he lightly joked. “I’ve cancelled on dates so many times and did those ever make you feel less important to me?”

“No. Never,” you sniffled.

“Then what makes you say I’d think that, sunshine? I would never, I promise.”

The corners of your lips lifted up to a small smile. There it was, the rays of sun peeking behind the clouds, bringing warmth back to the dark crevices of his being.

“I’m sorry about your shirt,” your lower lip jutting out in a pout. The air of anxiety slowly dissipating around you.

Spencer laughed, noting the tear stained marks littered on his purple button down. “That’s alright. Why don’t we order from your favorite Indian place down the block? We can get your favorites and have our dinner date here instead?”

“You’d be okay with that?”

He leaned in to kiss your temples, taking in the twinkle back in your eyes framed by your wet long lashes and the flush on your cheeks from emotion—good and bad.

For Spencer, you had never looked more beautiful. The reason behind of your breakdown was raw, intimate, and it made him see you in a new light. Heat bloomed in his chest, like a series of red roses, filled with love for you.

“Anywhere with you is good for me, sunshine.”

Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

[nymphbnny]

adrenaline

────── ryomen sukuna

⤷ formula one driver!sukuna who takes an interest on a shy reporter.

tw: doggy, daddy kink (slight) oral (male female receiving), mating press, breeding kink, spanking, not proofread, MDNI

got inspired by this beautiful work here, go show some love <3 @to00fu

it was loud — overwhelmingly so. the roar of engines echoed off the narrow streets of monte carlo as you arrived at the circuit de monaco, badge swinging around your neck, notebook clutched to your chest. your team had sent you to cover the monaco grand prix, one of the crown jewels of the formula 1 calendar. it was your first time at a live event of this scale, and your assignment? try to score an interview with none other than ryomen sukuna — two-time monaco winner, three-time berlin champion, and the most elusive driver on the grid.

he wasn’t known for giving interviews. in fact, most in the press pen described him as cold, cocky, and unreachable. but still, if you could manage to get him to speak to you — really speak — it would be a game-changer for your career.

“hey, you ready?” your coworker called from the media shuttle. “we’ve got to be in the press briefing before the pre-race prep starts.”

you nodded quickly, adjusting your press lanyard, and followed the flow of reporters into the media center. inside, the buzz was palpable. you took your seat, legs crossed tightly, foot tapping against the floor. you were trying to calm your nerves, but your eyes kept drifting toward the door.

and then, the room shifted.

cheers and whistles broke out as sukuna entered. you stood instinctively, craning your neck to get a glimpse — and there he was. tall, broad-shouldered in his fitted team suit, race cap pulled low over his sharp eyes. he didn’t wave or acknowledge the room, just walked in with the quiet authority of a man who knew he didn’t need to try.

your throat dried. he was stunning. the kind of stunning that made your cheeks burn as you forced your gaze back to your notes. inappropriate thoughts crept in anyway. you pressed your knees together, trying to shake them off.

one by one, the journalists posed their questions. sukuna’s replies were short, clipped, sometimes sarcastic. he didn’t suffer fools — or flattery. and then it was your turn.

you stood, heart hammering. he watched you as you rose — not dismissively, but with interest, eyes following the way you clutched your notes like a lifeline.

“i was wondering,” you began, voice just steady enough, “about the profile picture you use across your social media — the one with you and your father in the small f1 kart. was he your inspiration to race?”

there was a beat of silence. a few reporters chuckled. someone scoffed. but sukuna didn’t. instead, he gave a small, almost imperceptible smile. he twisted the cap onto his water bottle and looked straight at you. “my dad was everything. i learned to race to make him proud,” he said, and for a second, his voice softened.

you nodded, lips curling into a smile, and sat down — your heart doing laps faster than any car on the grid. the rest of the questions blurred together. you could feel his eyes on you now and then, sharp and unreadable.

engines revved in the pit lane as the sun dipped lower over monte carlo’s harbor. the race was chaos and choreography all at once — twenty cars weaving through the tight hairpins and unforgiving chicanes, the scream of the v6 turbo engines reverberating off the grandstands.

you watched from the media zone, gripping your headset as the final laps unfolded. overtakes were rare in monaco, but sukuna was a master of precision. when he made his move into the nouvelle chicane, it was clean and lethal — the kind of move that made commentators lose their minds.

and then, the checkered flag waved. sukuna had won.

the crowd erupted. flares lit up. and the press surged forward.

“come on!” your coworker shouted, already pushing toward the media scrum gathering by parc fermé. reporters crowded around the victorious driver, shouting over one another. microphones flashed. cameras clicked.

you tried to move forward — but it was impossible. the mob was too thick, too loud.

“watch out!” someone yelled, but too late — another reporter shoved past you, knocking you off balance.

you stumbled forward, straight into someone’s chest. strong arms steadied you. a hand curled around your wrist. it was him. security started to react, but sukuna raised a hand, waving them off. his eyes — sharp and amused — scanned your face.

“you again, sweetheart?” he said low enough for only you to hear. his thumb brushed gently across the inside of your wrist. or maybe you imagined that part. you weren’t sure. he was close — so close it was dizzying.

he leaned in, lips near your ear. “if you’re serious about that interview,” he murmured, “meet me at the hotel hermitage. room 1801. nine o’clock. reception will let you up.”

and just like that, he walked away, ignoring the press, his team, everyone else.

your coworker caught up to you, wide-eyed. “what did he say?!” you blinked, still stunned. “he said… my questions were soft.” you lied, smiling to yourself.

you didn’t know if you’d go, but it might just be your shot.

you stared at the clock in your hotel room: 8:52 p.m.

you had paced the suite five times, changed your outfit twice, and debated texting your editor a dozen more. was this a mistake? would he even remember he invited you? your press pass lay on the nightstand, staring back at you like a dare.

by 8:57, you were in the elevator heading to the 18th floor of hotel hermitage. the hallway was quiet, plush carpet soft under your shoes. everything smelled like expensive cologne and fresh linen. it felt like the kind of place where secrets were expected — and kept.

you knocked on the door marked 1801.

no response.

you hesitated, lifting your hand again — but the door cracked open.

he stood there, Ryomen Sukuna — hair still wet, towel slung around the back of his neck, a few droplets of water catching the light as they slid down his bare chest. tattoos sprawled across his torso, wrapping around his arms, ink trailing over defined muscle and disappearing under a pair of low-sitting black lounge shorts. no shirt. just heat. and skin. and ink.

he looked completely unbothered by his own state of undress.

“you’re early,” he said, voice gravelly — not annoyed, but amused.

you tried to say something — anything — but your words got lost somewhere between the towel on his neck and the line of his collarbone.

he tilted his head slightly. “you coming in or just going to stare?” you stepped inside before you embarrassed yourself further.

the suite was dimly lit, with soft light coming from the floor lamps and the glow of monaco’s coast beyond the balcony windows. there was a half-open bottle of wine on the table near the couch, two glasses already waiting — like this had been a plan from the beginning.

you turned back toward him just as he closed the door. he didn’t move to get dressed. didn’t apologize for it, either.

“so,” he said, walking over to the wine. “you’re here for your big scoop?”

“you invited me,” you managed to say, even if it came out smaller than you intended. he poured the wine slowly. “i know.” he stated lowly, his eyes casually drifting at you, his muscles flexing with every move.

he handed you a glass, and when your fingers brushed his — warm skin, damp from the shower — it felt like a jolt of something you couldn’t name.

“well?” he said, lowering himself onto the couch. “ask your questions.”

you sat across from him, notebook in your lap more for show than purpose. your pen hovered midair, mind trying to chase the professionalism you were supposed to have walked in with. he sipped his wine, eyes never really leaving yours — studying, waiting.

you cleared your throat. “okay. first question… you’ve raced this circuit five times now. do you still get nervous before a big start?”

he leaned back, one arm draped over the back of the couch, the towel shifting slightly on his neck. “not really. nerves are a waste of energy. you either trust yourself, or you don’t.”

you nodded, scribbling something down even if it was just to give your hands something to do. “right. uh… who do you think your biggest rival is this season?”

“depends. on paper?” he took another sip. “probably hajime. but mentally? no one.”

you smiled despite yourself. “cocky.”

“confident,” he corrected smoothly. “if you don’t believe you’re the best out there, you’re already behind.”

you made a small noise of agreement, then flipped the page — pretending you weren’t hyperaware of the way his muscles shifted every time he moved. “okay, let’s talk personal life.”

his brow lifted. “now we’re getting interesting.”

you hesitated. “are relationships hard for you, given the lifestyle?”

he didn’t answer right away. instead, he let the silence settle, then said slowly, “they’re not hard. they’re just not built to last.”

you glanced up at him. “why not?”

“because most people don’t want the truth,” he said, voice quiet but firm. “they want a version of you that makes them feel better about themselves.” your pen paused.

he leaned forward slightly, gaze sharper now. “you ask a lot of curious personal questions.”

“it’s my job,” you replied, trying to match his tone.

“sure,” he said. “or maybe you just want to know what kind of women i like.” your breath caught — not because he was wrong, but because of how plainly he’d said it. your silence stretched too long, and his smirk deepened.

“want me to answer that?”

you swallowed. “wouldn’t that be off the record?”

“maybe,” he said, voice dipping low. “maybe not.” your fingers tightened slightly around your pen. “i’m not uncomfortable.”

“didn’t say you were,” he murmured, leaning in a little more, elbows resting on his knees now, glass dangling from one hand. “but you haven’t moved since i brought it up.”

you met his eyes — steady, unreadable. “so? what kind of women do you like?”

he smiled, slow and deliberate. “ones who ask bold questions with their voice shaking.”

you exhaled — not quite a laugh, not quite a breath — and before you could respond, he tilted his head, voice dropping even lower.

you couldn’t seem to tear your eyes away from him. his gaze was magnetic — intense, and unwavering.

“you sure you’re still here for the article?” his voice was low, but there was no mistaking the challenge in his words.

you blinked, caught off guard. “i’m… i’m here for the interview,” you said, trying to steady your nerves, but the line between professional and personal was blurring fast.

he didn’t smile this time, his gaze sharpening as he leaned in, his voice dropping lower. “you know,” he said, his tone almost teasing now, “i don’t usually invite people to my room for just a ‘chat.’”

your heart pounded in your chest, and you could feel the weight of his stare. you weren’t sure if you wanted to step back or closer, but his next words made it all the more complicated.

“tell me,” he murmured, his voice rough but controlled. “after all the questions you’ve asked about everyone else, you haven’t told me much about you.”

his eyes flicked to yours, dark and assessing. “you want to know what kind of woman I like? it’s simple: someone who knows what she wants.” his words were heavy with meaning, lingering in the air.

you swallowed hard. you had no idea where this conversation was going, but you felt your body respond to the shift in energy. it was no longer about the interview, or the questions.

“maybe you’d like me to show you,” he said, leaning closer. there was no mistaking it now. his breath was warm against your skin, and the air felt thick, charged with something undeniable. “or do you prefer to just keep asking?”

this was it. this was the moment you’ve been fantasizing about ever since you’ve laid eyes on him. you lean closer to him, his winey breath on your skin. “i guess, no,” you took a small breath, “i want you to show me, what you like.”

he smirked, his hand removing your glass from your trembling fingers. his face was closer to yours, his other hand wrapping itself around the back of your neck pulling you closer as he captured your lips with his. your stomach erupted, goosebumps rising on your skin as you found your brows furrowing into the kiss.

you placed your hands on his cheeks pulling further toward you, his body lying you down on the couch as he took place above you, careful with his movement without breaking away.

“tell me what you want beautiful and it’s yours,” he whispered into the kiss, “it’s all yours, god.”

you wrapped yourself around him, separating your face from him, face red and flushed. “i want you, please, sukuna,”

without a second wasted, sukuna grabbed your body pulling you up from the couch, his bulge rubbing against your clothed cunt. your hips attempted to get a better feel, pressing yourself closer to him but it was all cut to an end when you were thrown onto his bed.

“so needy,” he chuckled throwing off his towel with a tug, “you want me that bad huh?” he grinned removing his shorts, revealing his swollen tip. your mouth drooled at the sight, his inked body, his beautiful muscles and his aching cock. you couldn’t help but crawl to him, your bottom lip tugged under your teeth as you reached to grab him.

you wrapped your lips around the tip, tasting the salty pre-cum, and he groaned, one hand tangling in your hair. you took him deeper, tongue swirling, cheeks hollowing as you worked him, but he wasn’t patient. how could he when your throat felt so good. he thrust into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat, making you gag. tears pricked your eyes, but the sound of his low, filthy moans made your cunt drip onto the sheets.

“fuck, that’s it,” he moaned, fucking your mouth with slow, deliberate thrusts. “take every inch baby that’s it.”

you moaned around him, the vibrations making him curse, his grip tightening. he pulled out suddenly, leaving you gasping, spit dripping down your chin. “not yet,” he said, hauling you to your feet and pushing you back . “i wanna feel that tight little pussy first.”

he shoved your body to his liking, face-down, ass up, pulling down your skirt and panties down. the cool air coming from the open windows hit your slick folds, making you shiver, but then his hand cracked against your ass, the sting blooming into heat that made your clit throb. “look at this perfect ass,” he muttered, spanking you again, leaving red handprints. “begging to become one of my trophies.”

“please,” you whimpered, spreading your thighs wider, desperate. “sukuna…”

he chuckled, caressing your soft skin, leaning down to kiss it. “you gon’ be a good girl and take all of daddy?” he taunted. your cunt throbbed, giving him all the answers he needed. sukuna teased your slit with his tip before thrusting into you, one long stroke that stretched your pussy to accommodate his girth. your lips parted, letting out an ecstatic gasp as your gripped onto the silk sheets. his balls were slapping against your clit, the trimmed hair brushing against your skin.

“you feel so good, mhm so fucking good,” he grunted, hands gripping your hips as the wet, obscene sounds of your pussy taking him filled the suite. sweat slicked your skin, his chest pressing against your back as he leaned down, biting your shoulder before kissing it, his mouth trailing from your blades to your neck.

his thrusts pushed you over the edge, your orgasm crashing through you, your cunt spasming around his cock as you screamed his name. he couldn’t stop, fucking you through it, chasing his own release. “gonna fill you up sweetheart,” he mumbled almost whimpering, his cock rubbing against your warm insides before spilling himself inside you.

your head fell heavy on the pillows, body trembling as his weight pinned you to the bed, his cock still buried inside you. your breaths were ragged, the room spinning, cum and sweat staining the sheets.

you whimpered painfully as he pulled out, cum leaking from your tired pussy. a sight for sore eyes, he thought.

it wasn’t until you felt his tongue on you that you realized he wasn’t done yet, lapping at the mixture of both his and your orgasms, moaning as he made out with your folds.

“couldn’t help but have a taste, fuck” his voice sent vibrations to your clit, your hand grabbing his head from behind as best you could to guide him through your climax.

he chuckled at your attempt, “don’t got anymore questions f’me?” he spat on your folds before plunging his fingers, toying with you. “don’t get all shy on me now, not after how you treated my cock,” a trail of moans was your answer, hips bucking as you rushed yourself to come.

“oh yeah i can feel that, gonna come again for daddy baby? yeah?” your nodding was rapid, toes curling as you allowed yourself to be overwhelmed by your orgasm.

“daddy… coming,” you whispered, breath shaky. he would be lying if he didn’t enjoy seeing you like that, calling him daddy, letting him do as he pleases. but then it hit him, he still hasn’t seen your fucked out face.

he smeared your juices all over your cunt, lubing you to prepare you for his hardened cock again. with a simple tug he flipped you over, legs on his shoulders as he dug in, capturing your yelp in his mouth, this time going faster.

you grabbed onto his shoulders, legs wrapping around him to keep him close. he knew he wouldn’t last long, how could he when you were squeezing him like that. he reached to your buttoned shirt, ripping it open, the sounds of your buttons scattering on the floor.

sukuna looked down at you, your soft voice expressing how good he is making you feel. he smirked, his fingers pulling down your bra to be mesmerized by your tits, his hungry mouth unable to resist latching on them.

“oh my god fuck, sukuna… sukuna shit!” your fingers were now in his hair, your nipples respectively getting sucked and played with. “fill me up again, felt so good to have your cum,” you begged, eyes filling with tears.

“never say no to a win,” he chuckled, his face dropping next to yours as he buried his face next to yours, your legs unconsciously letting go of him as your body began shaking, vision getting cloudy.

he moaned in your ear, his skin slapping against yours a few last times before he let himself loose inside you once again.

“you better mention how much i love the adrenaline rush i get in your article sweetheart.”

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

help me forget. l Joel Miller

Summary: you broke down and Joel was the only one who could help you

Warnings:  +18, smut, angst, unprotected sex, two dead bodies, mention of blood, Reader has a crisis, Ellie is in it

A/N: did i add something again? i have another exam on saturday and i'm going through a crisis. sorry for the mistakes, i wanted to write it and add it today.

your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

short stories from life. [masterlist]

"I'm sure everything's fine. Something just had to stop them."

Joel tore his eyes from the horizon and looked at Ellie, her fingers gripping the railing, her eyes fixed on the distance.

"Yeah, you're probably right." he replied, trying to keep his voice casual.

He didn't want to show her that he was already nervous. Something was tightening painfully in his gut, you should have been back by now.

He didn't like the idea, but you quickly calmed his thoughts. Tommy, Shane, you and a few other men were going on a three-day trip to a nearby town. Supplies needed to be replenished, and the growing school in Jackson would be happy to accept new equipment. 

If Joel had been nervous up until now, he was like a ticking bomb now. Ellie could see he was worried, she felt the same. The whole group should have been back in the morning, it was getting late and there was no sign of you.

"Go home, kid." he muttered "I'll let you know when they get back."

"No way!" Ellie got offended "I'm going to give her a hard time when she finally shows up."

They fell silent again, staring at the spot where the familiar car should have appeared. Minutes passed, the sun was setting, until finally Ellie shouted "They're coming!" and Joel's heart began to beat faster. 

However, when he finally breathed a sigh of relief, he noticed something disturbing in the approaching vehicle. Something bad had happened...

The gate opened and the entire group entered Jackson. Maria stood by Joel, looking out for his brother, soon her face lit up.

"Tommy! Thank God!" she cried, throwing herself into the arms of the man who got out of the car.

He hugged her tightly, but it was Joel who caught his eye. The lump in his throat grew painfully. His gaze swept over the group, searching for a familiar face, the one he was so worried about, the one he needed to see alive.

"We met another group." Tommy said. "We lost two people..."

Joel's legs almost buckled. But he didn't have time to say anything, not even take a breath when another car door opened and he finally saw you. In a few quick steps he was already by your side, strong arms hugging you to his chest. Only when he let go of you did he notice the already dried cut above your eyebrow, some scratch on your cheek, but you were alive.

But something was wrong. Joel sensed it immediately. Your gaze... Something changed in your eyes.

"What happened? Who did we lose?" Maria asked.

Tommy gave two names and everyone fell silent for a moment. Ellie took advantage of this moment to run up to you and hug you tightly.

"You look terrible." she said "But I'm glad you decided to come back."

"I'm fine..." you replied quietly, stroking her hair "I have something for you." you pulled something out of your belt, which turned out to be a comic book in pretty good shape.

"Oh! Cool!"

Joel noticed his brother's gaze, he clearly wanted to say something, but then he looked at you and seemed a bit confused. He understood him.

"Ellie, take her to the clinic. Let someone see her." he said.

"I'm fine." you replied, but Ellie had already grabbed your hand.

"Come on, you'll tell me everything." she said, pulling you towards the clinic building. Only when you were gone did Tommy finally speak up.

"Six, maybe seven men. We ran into them when we were about to leave the city."

"Riders?" Maria asked.

Tommy shrugged. "Possibly. We'll never know. They started shooting at the car, they wanted to scare us first."

"I hit some wreck." Shane walked up to them, he also had a few scratches on his face, but he was fine, he looked at Joel "I hit it pretty hard. That's how she cut her forehead."

Joel nodded. The cut was a small payment for bringing you back alive.

"We got into a fight. It was really bad." Tommy continued, and Maria folded her arms tighter over her chest "I don't know when we lost our men. It all happened so fast..."

"No one blames you, Tommy." Joel spoke up. His brother looked at him sadly.

"One of them surprised me. We fell to the ground, struggling. I thought..." he took a deep breath "I thought I wouldn't come back."

"I took out two of them before I saw what was happening." Shane continued for him, and then your name tumbled from his lips. "Her gun jammed. One of the guys hit her, but she managed somehow. Then she saw Tommy." 

Joel felt his brother wanted to tell him something, something that wasn't very nice.

"She got to me before Shane. It was a second or two." He looked at Maria "She saved my life. If it wasn't for her... That guy had no chance..."

Maria sighed and took her husband in her arms trying to hide her tears.

Shane leaned slightly towards Joel and added quietly "Listen, talk to her. She's barely spoken since then."

"What happened?" Joel asked, feeling his voice tremble.

Walsh sighed. "He got hit in the ribs and in the neck. A few times. But she... Shit, I had to get her off him."

A familiar image appeared before Joel's eyes, he knew what Shane was talking about, he had seen you like this before. That was the moment when you defended Ellie and yourself. He looked towards the clinic with concern.

"Thanks, Shane." He said. "Thanks for taking care of her."

"No problem, man."

Warm steam was coming out of the bathroom, pleasantly warming the bedroom. It was quite late. Ellie hid in her room, engrossed in the comic book you brought her. You, on the other hand, had already taken a shower and, dressed in clean clothes, were combing your still damp hair.

"You must be tired as hell." Joel put a mug of tea on your nightstand.

"Mhm..."

You didn't say much and you barely ate dinner, which worried him, but he thought that maybe once you went to bed you'd feel better. Joel took a quick shower and when he came back to the room he saw that you were already lying under the covers.

Tiredness must have won, because your breathing was already steady and calm. The bed creaked quietly as Joel lay down behind you, hugged you and snuggled into your back, kissing your shoulder. Tomorrow will be a new day. He would talk to you, and you would feel better. For sure.

You weren't in his arms. The space next to him was empty and cold. Joel rubbed his eyes and looked around the dark room. Only after a moment did he notice the faint light coming from under the closed bathroom door. He hesitantly got out of bed and went to the bathroom.

"Baby, are you okay?" he asked in a hoarse voice, knocking quietly.

Nothing. Silence. A cold shiver ran down his spine. He knocked again.

"Are you there? Can I come in?"

Something hit the floor and rolled across it. Joel no longer hesitated, grabbed the handle and pushed the door open. You were sitting against the wall with your knees pulled up to your chest, your eyes puffy from tears. You had to try to get up, but you clumsily threw the cup with toothbrushes on the floor and it was the one that made the noise.

"Sweetheart..."

He quickly knelt down next to you, took your face in his hands. Your cheeks were wet from tears, single strands of hair stuck to your face.

"How long have you been here? Come back with me, honey..."

"I-I can't come back...." your voice was shaking. Joel didn't understand what you said. His heart was breaking when he looked at you like that. "I can't, I can't Joel."

"Of course you can. I'll help you, you know that. You're not alone in this."

Your eyes were glazed with tears, you took a breath through trembling lips. "I did it again... Again. When I saw this guy on Tommy, he wanted to kill him, and I..."

"And you saved him." Joel interrupted you. "You saved Tommy. You saved my brother's life."

"You didn't see it! There was so much blood everywhere..."

"But I see you! And I know you. You did what you had to."

You stared at him with pity. Joel didn't understand anything. He wasn't there with you, he wasn't you. That moment when you lost control, when you acted on instinct, when your dark side took over, and the knife you had in your hand entered the body of that man smoothly. You woke up feeling like you could feel his warm blood on your hands again. Your heart was beating like crazy.

"I'm not safe, Joel. I'm not safe for you and Ellie." your voice became automatic, as if you were saying a memorized line "What if I do the same to you? I snapped! I snapped and lost control and..."

"You were saving Tommy, for God's sake!" strong hands grabbed your shoulders and Joel gently shook you to come to your senses "When I met you, you were already protecting Ellie. I know you would never hurt her, or me. It's this world, it's brought it all out in you, but it's not the real you."

"Bullshit..."

"Believe me, I'd like to take it all away from you, carry it for you. But I can't. The only thing I can do is be with you, take care of you, love you and..." he stopped as his brain realized what words had left his mouth. He had never said that before. 

God! He couldn't remember the last time he told someone he loved them, maybe in his previous life. He had always been hopeless with feelings, he couldn't name them like some people, but that didn't mean he didn't feel them. His body was full of emotions, and you had added a few more that he could barely handle. And now you were staring at him with a mixture of fear and not understanding a word he had said. 

Joel took a deep breath. "I love you." He repeated. "I have loved you for a long time. I should have told you before, not now that you... Fuck." another precious breath. "I love you. And I know what you are. What your head says isn't true, that's not the real you. You shield and protect, baby. You care for others, you love and support. You saved Ellie, me and my brother. You protect our family."

Your brain must have analyzed his words for a long moment, because you were staring at him completely stunned. Only after a long moment of silence did you speak. "You can't love me, Joel. You're wrong..."

He closed his eyes for a moment and sighed, smiling. "If I'm truly certain of anything in life, it's what I feel, sweetheart."

"But-"

"There's no 'but' here. I know perfectly well what I am, but I also know what I've become since you've been with me. And I care about you, so please, come back to bed with me."

His words must have finally reached you, because you gave in to him and got up from the floor. Joel led you back to the bed, and after a moment you were lying in his arms again. The warmth emanating from his body was pleasant, you felt safe and good. His fingers gently stroked your shoulder, and his chest rose with a steady breath. Hundreds of thoughts were racing through your head.

"Will you help me forget?"

"What?" he asked, a little surprised by your quiet question.

"Help me forget, please, Joel. I know you can..."

So he did what you asked him to do. He slowly took off your shirt, kissing every inch of exposed skin tenderly. He felt under his fingers the scar you had on your side, he kissed that place too. The panties you were wearing also landed on the floor. You clumsily reached for the edge of his shirt. 

Joel's broad shoulders and chest were something you adored, but at that moment he didn't give you time to admire him. His lips found yours, kissing you tenderly, his tongue slipped inside and you tangled your fingers in his hair. The next thoughts flew out of your head, one after another. 

The tenderness with which he touched and caressed you was extraordinary, and at the same time delicate. If you hadn't asked him to help you forget, he would probably have given himself more time, but in that case you couldn't wait. He spread your thighs with his knee and settled between them.

"I don't want it to hurt..."

"It won't. And even if it does, I don't care."

You took his cock at the base, stroked it and rubbed the head against your entrance a few times. Joel closed his eyes, sighing quietly. With one, not even strong, movement of his hips, he pushed the tip into you, and you closed your eyelids. Warm walls wrapped around him tightly as he went deeper and deeper. Until the very end. Delicate hands stroked his shoulders as he tried to get used to this feeling. You had made love so many times, but every time Joel felt delight when he entered you.

Finally, he lifted himself up on his forearms and looked at your face, the face he loved so much, the face he was afraid to lose.

"I love you so fucking much." he said quietly.

You smiled. "I love you too, more than you can imagine."

He started moving. One thrust after another, your quiet moans filled his ears, your nails dug into his shoulders and back. But Joel didn't stop, if you wanted to forget he wanted to help you with that. 

And he didn't stop until you fell apart in his arms, until you arched in the pleasure he gave you. Every shiver you made, every sigh - it all felt like a declaration of love. Love you were a symbol of.

And when you fell asleep exhausted in his arms, he stroked your soft skin for a while longer, kissed your forehead, drew from your warm body. He repeated to himself that no matter what happened he would do everything to keep you safe, because he couldn't lose another loved one. And you were his whole life.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist, i think: @picketniffler @orcasoul @bbyanarchist @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @somedayheaven @underneath-the-sky-again

[everrinsly]

a/n; thank you for all the sweet, kind comments! i really like this version of suna. i finally finished this i started in uni haha when i had terrible back pain

and also every time i visit the motherland (not often :(, i always have to smuggle back some salonpas (they are for pain relief, comes in spray or patches), also reminds me of when fukunaga says nice toss, salonpas

blurred lines, best friend vibes.

kiss it better... with salonpas with suna. fluff. fem!reader. | not proofread.

post-game suna is exhausted... and needy for salonpas, your touch, and maybe a kiss?

more suna here!

more reads!

જ⁀🏐🖤📱

The front door clicks open just after midnight. 

It’s quiet, almost cautious, but so heavy with the weight that always comes home with Suna after a game.

You're curled on the couch, the TV droning quietly with the low hum of some late-night ad reel. 

The sports channel had been playing his game earlier—replays, commentary, all the fast cuts and booming excitement worthy of national coverage. But it’s long ended, now reduced to a loop of shampoo commercials and cheap car deals.

Still, you leave it on.

You just liked the noise, the flicker of the screen, the soft glow casting shadows across the apartment. It made the place feel less empty, the sense that the apartment wasn’t completely still, and maybe less like you were waiting (even though you were). 

So when you hear heavy footsteps and a duffle bag dropped with a dull thump, your pulse reacts before your mind does.

He doesn’t say anything. He never really does when he’s wrung out from the celebrations, where the adrenaline’s burned out and his body finally realizes how hard it worked. 

You wait, heart thrumming quietly. And sure enough, a few seconds later, Suna rounds the corner and pads slowly into the living room. 

He’s in his EJP jacket—half-unzipped, exposing the edge of his gold jersey and the wet sheen on his collarbone. His hair is damp and messy, curled slightly at the ends (he probably gave up halfway through drying it).

He smells faintly like locker room sweat, floor resin, that tired musk of post-game exhaustion; but underneath it all, he smells like him, something so distinctly familiar, safe, warm… like home. 

His eyes land on you, hazy and unreadable.

“Hey,” you whisper softly, voice barely above the hum of the TV.

“Mm.” He nods and slinks toward you, dropping onto the couch besides you. 

You flinch a little when his head tips to the side and lands on your lap, heavy and warm and wholly unbothered by personal space. One arm dangles off the couch beside your legs and the other is awkwardly around your waist, pressed between your back and the cushion. 

He exhales long and slow. “Dead,” he mutters into your thigh.

You smile, hand hesitantly moving to brush through his hair, gentle fingers combing out the sweat-dried strands. “Looked like a tough match.”

“My whole body feels like it got hit by a truck,” he grumbles against your skin, lips ghosting where your shorts ride up your thigh. “Everything hurts.”

You scratch his scalp in sympathy. “You did dive into the bench during the third set.”

“Saved the ball,” he deadpans.

“Nearly broke your shoulders.”

“But I looked hot doing it.”

You laugh softly. God, he’s so—you don’t let yourself finish the thought.

(But yeah, he did look hot. There were already fan edits online that you definitely didn’t save to your phone... definitely not). 

“You should’ve left that save for Komori. He was lunging for it behind you.”

“He wouldn’t have made it,” he replies, twisting his face to look up at you now, brows furrowed in focus that meant he’s still analyzing, still replaying everyone’s moves in his head. “We had a shitty formation during that play.”

You hum softly, not agreeing or disagreeing, just letting the silence sit between you for a second. Then, with a small sigh, you lift your free hand and smooth it over his forehead, pushing his bangs back. 

“Stop thinking so hard,” you say, voice laced with fondness. “It’s just a thought... from lil’ old me, who doesn’t play volleyball and mostly watches games through 4K.”

That earns you a half-smile, lazy and crooked. You continue to run your fingers through his hair, and he closes his eyes for a second, like your touch is heavier than it is, grounding him.

There’s a beat of silence before you pick up the banter again. 

“You also didn’t even shower yet, stinky,” you tease. 

“You still let me use you as a pillow though.”

“You always use me as a pillow.”

He looks smug. “‘Cause you’re comfy.”

You roll your eyes, fingers drifting lower, brushing along the curve of his neck until they find the thin silver chain resting against his collarbone. You trace it lazily, just touching, feeling.

He groans softly. "Keep doing that."

You know his signs—when he’s too tired to joke, too sore to sit up, too worn out to hide how much his body aches.

So you say, soft and careful, “Want me to put some Salonpas on your back?”

Suna doesn’t answer right away. He just shifts, turning a bit to rest his cheek against your inner thigh, face angled toward your stomach. His eyes are half-lidded, lashes casting shadows. 

He breathes you in before he speaks. “Only if you kiss it better.”

Your fingers freeze in his hair. “Absolutely not.”

“Cold.”

Your heart is doing something strange, fluttery and traitorous and too loud for a moment like this.

But you cover it with a scoff and reach for the little drawer on the side table, where you keep all the ‘just-in-case’ things: band-aids, lint rollers, and of course, Salonpas—because of course you do; you’ve lived with him long enough to expect these nights. 

You’re halfway through peeling open the box when you hear him murmur, voice low and drowsy. “Not the patches.”

You pause. “Hmm?”

He shifts again, tilting his head just enough to glance up at you from his spot in your lap. His lips curl in that faint smirk that always makes your chest feel tight.

“Use the spray,” he says, voice light. “Feels better when you rub it in.”

You narrow your eyes at him, suspicious. “You mean it feels better when I touch you.”

He doesn’t even pretend to deny it, only shrugs. “Don’t be weird about it.”

You let out a quiet, flustered huff, ducking back into the drawer and digging past the clutter for the familiar blue can. Your fingertips close around the cool metal, and you hold it up with a pointed look.

“Gross behavior,” you mutter.

“Not gross,” he mumbles into your thigh. “Just honest.”

You roll your eyes and pat his cheek, signaling for him to fully turn. When he shifts face down on your lap, you tug his jacket and jersey up by the hem. 

He doesn’t move, doesn’t flinch, just lets you pull it halfway up his back until the cool air hits skin.

And then your breath catches.

His back is a mess of tension—taut lines and overworked muscles, a constellation of bruises blooming faintly across his ribs and shoulder blades, and deep, dull splotches where he must’ve collided, where he must’ve hit the ground hard.

It’s the kind of damage that doesn’t show on the scoreboard.

You swallow, pressing your lips together. You hadn’t realized he’d taken this many hits today.

You hesitate with the can in your hand, eyes scanning the bruised dip of his waist.

And for a second, you forget the banter, the teasing back-and-forth that always makes these nights feel easier. All you can feel is that soft, aching throb in your chest: the part of you that wants to press your hand to every mark and ask if it hurts, the part that always hurts with him, and for him, even when you try not to.

Then, before your brain can catch up with your mouth, something small but so honest slips out.

“…Just one,” you whisper. “One kiss.”

It’s barely louder than a breath. You’re not even sure he hears it.

But then his back rises and falls with a slow exhale, and the smirk in his voice is unmistakable.

“Thought you said absolutely not.”

You glare at the back of his head before softly pinching his ear. “Do you want the kiss or not?”

“I want ten.”

“You’re getting one.”

You lean down before you can change your mind, pressing a soft kiss just beside the worst bruise along his upper back. It’s barely anything, just the lightest warmth of your mouth against his skin, but it's enough for him to let out a sigh.

You shake the can, the rattle filling the space between you, and then spray a gentle stripe down the curve of his spine. He stiffens at the initial contact.

But when your hand meets his skin—gentle, deliberate with care, spreading the spray in soft, gliding circles—you feel it.

The way his breath holds. The way his muscles relax. The way his body eases.

He wants your hands on him even when he doesn’t hurt; he needs your touch more than he lets on.

“You always want to be spoiled,” you murmur, smoothing your palm over the tension at the small of his back. Your voice is quiet, but the affection in it sneaks through anyway, soft around the edges.

“Only by you,” he replies casually. His voice vibrates low against your thigh, slightly muffled, but the weight still lands sharp.

You freeze for a split second, not at what he said because he’s always saying things like that, but at how easily it slips out, how much it doesn’t sound like a joke.

Your hand lingers where it rests, fingers spread lightly over the dip of his spine. His skin is warm beneath your palm, the faint rise and fall of his breath slow, steady, too calm for the way your heart is tripping over itself.

You shouldn’t. You always say that. And then you do it anyway.

You lean forward and press one more kiss—just one—below his shoulder blade. It's slower this time, softer. Your lips drag a little against his skin, and you stay there, lingering for a beat too long.

His breath hitches, just slightly.

“Fuck yes, angel,” Suna mumbles, voice a little hoarse, like it caught in his throat.

You pull back, cheeks warm, and immediately reach for his hair again—fingers threading through the dark strands before giving a firm tug in retaliation, not too hard but just enough to make a point.

"I'm gonna rip you bald."

"...Kinky."

[imsandra]

I see

Pairing: Azriel x female reader

Summary: Azriel and Y/N, a couple who have shared a long and deep connection, face a crisis in their relationship.

Warning: Angst, sadness

Word Count: 1489

Notes: Hi! This is my first time writing, I hope you like this story and leave your comments about what you thought, suggestions, everything is welcome as long as it is with the motivation to teach and with respect. English is not my language, so I apologize for any spelling or grammar issues.

The story is original, I wrote it myself. Please do not copy and plagiarize my story.

I appreciate the comments, reblogs and likes that I receive. Kisses ❤️.

Happy reading!

He see (2)

Azriel had always enjoyed waking up next to her every morning. His black-and-white days, she painted them golden like the light of day, like the sun at every dawn; with a calm like the waters of the River Sidra. But things fall apart, and time breaks hearts.

During the first years of their relationship, life was a garden with beautiful colors, a clear sky, many flowers, and a large fountain full of futures. And so it lasted for centuries, until that garden was no longer watered and that fountain gradually dried up.

Another night in which he doesn't show up again, again, again...

Tonight, was or is the night of their anniversary. Y/N sat in the dining room she had decorated as she had many times for a romantic dinner, dressed in a beautiful dress, but the master of spies never arrived.

The next morning, she heard the door of the room they shared open. She just kept pretending to be asleep and that she hadn't cried all night as she had the last few times, and he could only observe the figure of the woman who had once calmed every nightmare with the warmth of her arms, as if she were only constant agony instead of his peace.

Y/N was walking through the streets of Velaris on her way to work when Azriel bumped into her and the coffee she was holding spilled on both of them. The beautiful girl couldn't have a worse day than that, she was late and her favorite coffee was spilled on the chest of the handsome man who was now holding her hand to keep her from falling to the floor. When she finally looked up, each of their senses felt stunned, his and hers. Azriel could only see her beautiful eyes, her face kissed by the rays of the sun, her lips so pure, while she couldn't take her eyes off his honey-brown eyes like the coffee she ordered every morning, her dark hair like the night she saw through her window at home.

"Oh, no! I'm so sorry," Azriel stammered, embarrassed, and released her hand as slowly as possible so as not to lose her warmth so quickly.

Y/N smiled slowly, shaking her head. "Don't worry, it happens to anyone, I should thank you for saving my butt from that horrible puddle on the floor," she said, laughing in the most nervous way she had ever been.

Azriel couldn't help but laugh. "I think I owe you a new coffee," he said as he looked at his stained shirt.

"Maybe, but I think it will be another time," she said smiling.

Who could forget that day?

"So, can you tell me where you were last night?" Y/N asked in a resigned voice.

"On a mission in the Summer Court," replied the shadow-singer, a vague answer that meant nothing to her.

"A mission, what smells of lotus flower and a touch of lavender? Tell me," she questioned with a calm voice but was more than broken.

"Y/N, let's not start this argument again."

For Azriel, it was just another argument, just one more he had that day. He couldn't see that he was doing things wrong. That with each passing day, he was breaking her a little more. He was the cause of it.

Y/N stared fixedly at Azriel, searching for any sign that he was willing to tell her what was going on. She was giving him an opportunity, and he was simply rejecting it.

"Honey, you look tired," Feyre whispered from the other side of the coffee table.

"I am, every day, I am," Y/N said in a choked voice as she tried to hold back her tears.

"Azriel is an important part of the family, but so are you. You're my friend and it hurts me to see you like this, like a ghost waiting in the corner of the room where he's not going to come in," Feyre told Y/N as she hugged her and stroked her hair.

There was no worse torture than feeling one's own heart bleeding in the darkness, while despair consumed her day after day, wondering what she had done to deserve such pain.

The front door opened and Y/N entered. She didn't expect to find Azriel in the living room. It was strange to see him sitting there with his gaze lost in the wall. He turned to look at her but could no longer see the spark that had kept the flame alive once, and she could no longer see that look that would tell her that no matter what happened, he would always be there. Two strangers living in the same house, two people who had been lovers.

Neither of them knew what to say, neither was willing to let go, not for love, but out of habit.

"I'm glad you're home," Y/N whispered, breaking the silence.

Azriel didn't answer. Deep down, he knew he had crossed the line, that it wasn't his home anymore.

"Did you ever think of telling me?" the woman he considered the love of his life moaned. "Did you ever see me through her when you kissed her?" as she continued to question, raising her voice a little more each time. "Didn't I make you happy?"

"Y/N..." Azriel whispered, before being interrupted by the woman who was his girl.

"No, no, don't try to lie to me," the beautiful woman shouted, knowing that her beloved would try to do it like the last time, but she was so tired.

"I wasn't going to, it was never my intention, but I had to do it to know," the shadow-singer expressed with a lump in his throat.

"Know what? That you didn't want to be with me anymore?" she affirmed with a broken voice.

"Yes," Azriel revealed.

The shadow-singer watched as the woman who was his, tears welled up in her eyes, as she crumbled at the affirmation of the fact she already sensed. Azriel couldn't help but wonder where his decision would lead him. Would she be okay? Would he regret it? He took a step forward to try to comfort her, and she couldn't help but take a step back when she saw that he wanted to get closer to her.

With the sharp pain in her soul and with tears running down her cheeks, the same ones he had kissed, she approached him while taking off the necklace Azriel had given her on their fifth anniversary as a symbol of pure love, one that would transcend even death. What a great lie, for her, in his eyes he was a liar, a promise breaker.

Y/N extended the hand that held the necklace with a yellow stone, a happiness that evaporated over time. Azriel was forced to accept it back, he knew her more than anything and yet he made his decision.

"I want you to leave," the woman ordered as she looked him directly in the eyes, for him to see how she broke him, how she broke them.

"She is my mate," Azriel revealed with watery eyes and a look of longing.

For him, a mating bond had always been important, feeling his other half through the bond, so he decided to get to know the other woman while Y/N always waited for him awake every night to welcome him home. She, who had always made him happy despite considering herself a complicated person and unworthy of that love. He wanted to stay with her, but his yearning was stronger.

"I see, you chose her, her who barely knows you, not me who has spent almost my whole life with you, wishing you would always spend time with me," Y/N whispered with a broken voice and full of pain. "I want you to leave Azriel," she asked again.

"Forgive me Y/N, I didn't want it to end like this," he murmured, and so the shadow-singer took his things and crossed the threshold.

The door he had crossed so many times with joy just because he would find her on the other side waiting for him, but she would never wait for him again, not anymore.

She collapsed on the floor when the door clicked shut, crying over the loss of a love, like a sad song in the dark room her heart beat. What she thought was going to be forever, was momentary.

I read them!

[fairy-writes]

WITH THE DELICACY OF A FLOWER

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Demon Slayer

Pairing(s): Shinazugawa Sanemi x Reader

Word Count: 0.7k

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Gender Neutral!Reader, Reader is kind of implied to be shorter than Sanemi (He leans his head on theirs)

Notes: I’m writing this instead of my requests, but the last episode of Demon Slayer has me in a CHOKEHOLD

This takes place immediately after Sanemi v. Tanjiro in season 1!

__________________________________________________________________________

You could tell the moment Sanemi walked through the doors that he was mad. This in and of itself wasn’t unusual. In fact, if he came home in a good mood, you had cause to worry.

But he seemed extra prickly today, so you washed your hands after making ohagi, dried them on your apron, and headed out to the front living area, where he was slipping off his shoes.

“How did the Hashira meeting go?” You ask as you approach him, and he scowls, baring his teeth in frustration. You notice he has some tissue stuffed up both nostrils and slight bruising around his eyes.

Did he get in a fight? Was his nose broken?

He notices you staring and sucks in a breath through his teeth,

“Some punk-ass kid headbutted me.” He finally grumbled, and you cocked your head, raising an eyebrow and studying his hunched shoulders. 

“Well, did you deserve it?” You ask, and his eyes dart to bore into yours. 

“When have I ever deserved it?!” He snapped, and you roll your eyes good-naturedly. 

“Love, I can think of several times when you deserved it. I guess I should be asking if you are okay?” You say, and he just grumbles, pushing past you gently and stalking off to your shared room in a huff. 

You watch him go. Guess he was in a worse mood than you thought. But you weren’t worried. He’d come to talk to you when he was ready. 

At least you weren’t concerned until it was time for bed, and he still had yet to speak with you. 

So, you gathered some of the fresh ohagi you had prepared onto a plate and knocked quietly on the bedroom door. 

“What.” Came his curt answer. You ease the door open and see him staring out the window, watching the moonlight illuminate everything in a stark white glow. 

“You didn’t eat dinner.” You say gently, but he doesn’t turn to look at you.

“I’m not hungry.” Another curt answer. But it doesn’t deter you. In fact, you are almost emboldened. Had he screamed and shouted, maybe you would’ve reconsidered. But he wasn’t angry at you. No… It seemed he was furious at something else. The Master, maybe? Maybe whoever this “punk-ass kid” was?

“Sanemi,” You eventually say, and he finally turns to look at you. His expression changes as soon as he spots you, a plate of food in hand and a soft expression. Any anger melts away, and he holds out a hand for you to take. You set the plate down by his side of the futon and step into his side. His hands are calloused as they wrap around your shoulders, and he leans his head on yours. 

“I’m guessing you’ve heard the whole situation?” He mumbles, and you hum, nodding slightly and relishing in his affection. It wasn’t often he allowed himself to hold you like this.

“Your crow told me the Master is allowing the Kamado siblings to stay in the Demon Slayer Corps.” You reply, and he grunts, pecking your forehead as he mulls over the decision. 

It was difficult for him. That much was obvious. He hadn’t told you everything, but you had gathered from his nightmares and the odd snippet of conversation why he was so hesitant to allow this to happen. 

Which was completely understandable, considering his backstory. 

After a few moments of silence, you take your head off his shoulder and lean your chin on it, studying your partner as he listens to the crickets outside your window. It wasn’t often he was home overnight with you like this. But the meeting had supposedly ended early, so he had the rest of the night to spend with you. 

You eventually lead Sanemi to bed but stop him before he lies down to close his eyes. You stop him by leaning down and pressing a kiss to his lips. He readily accepts the kiss, tangling his fingers in your hair to keep you there even a moment longer. You can feel the heated emotions under his skin and his heart thrumming in his chest. But he remained gentle. 

Always so gentle. 

He was always so gentle with you. No matter what he was doing, he treated you with the same delicacy as a flower. 

[ponderingmoonlight]

Caring for Sanemi's wounds or at least trying to

I love you for this art and idea @who-can-touch-my-boob. You're the best 🤍

@everyone you NEED to leave a like/share/follow/comment for my precious bby

You truly hate and love these moments.

The moment you reach for him, Sanemi flinches like a wounded animal. His glare is sharp, warning you to back off, but you don’t. You never do. After all, this is your job.

"Shinazugawa-san, please stop squirming and just let me tend to your wounds," you sigh, setting down the cloth and medicine with deliberate patience.

You are used to stubborn patients. To be exact, you even cared for Inosuke, that strange boy who swore it’s impossible for his body to get injured. But Sanemi Shinazugawa? Somehow, he manages to beat them all.

"No, get off me!" he snaps, shifting away like a stubborn child.

"Not like I don’t already have scars!"

You exhale slowly, pressing your lips together as you fight the urge to roll your eyes. He’s impossible. Stubborn, reckless, and too damn proud for his own good. But that doesn’t mean you’re going to let him sit there and bleed all over the place. After all, it’s you who has to clean up afterwards.

"Yes, you have scars. And you’ll get more if you don’t let me help you," you reply firmly, scooting closer despite his scowl.

"Now quit whining and hold still."

Sanemi growls under his breath, but you don’t miss the way his body hesitates, muscles tense but no longer pulling away. Taking that as permission, you dip the cloth into the warm water and press it gently against a gash on his forearm. He flinches, jaw tightening, but stays still.

"See? Not so bad, right?" you murmur, dabbing away the dried blood.

He grunts, turning his head to the side, refusing to look at you.

"You’re annoying."

"You’re worse," you counter, carefully wrapping a fresh bandage around his arm.

Your hands are steady despite the heat of his gaze burning into the side of your face. You can feel his eyes on you, watching, waiting.

When you finally glance up, he’s looking at you like he doesn’t quite understand you, like he doesn’t know why you bother. But beneath all that roughness, beneath the sharp edges and scowls, there’s something softer lurking in his expression.

"You don’t have to do this," he mutters, voice quieter this time.

You smile, securing the last knot on his bandage.

"Well, technically it’s my job so I have to. But the main reason is I want to."

Sanemi doesn’t say anything after that. He just watches you, eyes flickering with something unreadable. How did he never notice that gleam in your eyes and the unique color they hold? And what about your skilled hands, that birthmark, your oh so soft-looking hair? The urge to run his hands through them becomes almost unbearable while your gaze is fixed on his naked upper body.

Did you…always look this good?

“What are you looking at?”

He exhales sharply and looks away before meeting your gaze. Why on earth did he stare at you like some love-drunken idiot?

"Tch. Whatever."

You don’t miss the way his shoulders relax just a little and how his eyes still follow you while they don’t.

[vettelsvee]

GOODBYES ARE BITTERSWEET | Sebastian Vettel ✩₊˚.⋆ PART 3: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MAMA! [PREVIOUS PART] [NEXT PART]

goodbyes are bittersweet masterlist f1 masterlist | ao3 | requests or let's talk!

ferrari sebastian vettel x ex gf!female reader

word count: 4462

summary: y/n discovers not only that she went viral on youtube on her birthday and that she's offered a reunion with capital records, but also has to face a possible reunion with seb after having no contact with him for four, almost five, years

warnings: settled on april 2018. curse words, angst, mention to y/n being friends with a certain guy who's a singer and used to be a dyed blond (we'll get to know how they met and also hope you like this cameo!). y/n refusing to have any news of seb. translated german (almost every one calls emily mäuschen, which means little mouse).

taglist: [@saltycomicsanimalssalad @hc-dutch @mycenterfold @simplyamberj @spitesfvl-blog @jaydaaasworld @lottalove4evelyn @zoeyjadetice2010 @jehun @ferralari @cosmoscoffeee @mcmuppet @myescapefromthislife ]

a/n: i had to post this, especially today heheh. hope you like this part as much as you seemed to like the others! i'll be waiting for your comments and anons (honestly, daily serotonin), and also remind you that feedback and reposts are truly appreciated <3

© VETTELSVEE (2024). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

2018

April 27th Heppenheim, Germany

If someone had told you a few years ago that your thirtieth birthday would be like any other day, you wouldn't have believed them.

As every morning, you had woken up, although today it wasn’t the light entering through the window that woke you. The voices of Emily and your parents singing "Happy Birthday" in unison were the reason for your abrupt awakening. You forced yourself to hold back tears when you saw your daughter approaching you, with the help of your mother, with a cake in her little hands. Your father was taking the utmost care to ensure the lit candle didn’t go out before you blew it out, and you noticed their pitiful glances falling on you.

You understood. Since you became a mother, you knew what it was like to suffer for a child.

“Happy birthday, Mama!”

After sitting up in bed, you took your daughter in your arms and sat her between your legs. You quickly wiped away the tears and, after clapping a few more times with her, you suggested you both to blow out the yellow candle, your favorite color, together.

Your only wish for that year, as it had been for the previous four, was to finally be able to talk to Seb and explain the real reason why you left in Barcelona almost 5 years ago.

With that thought firmly in your mind, you said goodbye to your parents, who headed to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. You quickly got out of bed, took the clothes you had chosen the night before for Emily and yourself, and dressed her while you told her the sugar-coated version of how you met her father and how happy you were, as you always did almost every time to her since she loved that story. Shortly after you were already dressed, and both of you were heading to the kitchen, where two bowls of cereal were already set on the counter.

“Mommy, what did you wish for?”

The little one's question took you by surprise. If there was something that characterized her and made you think of her father, it was her great curiosity. Not to mention her clearly defined blonde curls and her entire face.

Denying that she was Sebastian's daughter was impossible, and that's how Heike found out she was a grandmother.

“It’s a secret, mäuschen,” you replied, starting to cough immediately, trying not to choke on the spoonful of cereal you had already put in your mouth. “I can’t tell you, or it won’t come true.”

“But is it something nice?” she insisted.

“Well, I suppose…”

You noticed that your mother was watching you with concern while she dried the freshly washed dishes.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take Emily to Hanna’s house?” she asked, interrupting your daughter's incessant questions. “I know you have to clean the bar thoroughly and it takes you quite some time.”

“No, don’t worry,” you assured her. “I want to take a walk with Emily and buy something for Heike and Norbert. Emily wants to see them today,” you explained.

“Norbert told me the other day that we could go feed the baby ducks at the lake!”

Your former in-laws knew that your daughter was their granddaughter, that she was Sebastian’s daughter, but Emily didn’t know they were her paternal grandparents, and for now, you preferred it to stay that way.

You couldn’t deny that it hurt you, but you knew things could be much worse if the couple hadn’t been so understanding. If Heike had believed that you really cheated on her son when you met two months after you had broken all ties with him and his family...

“I also want to buy them something. You know, it’s what I’ve always done,” your mother nodded with a slight smile, perfectly understanding what you meant.

“Have you thought of anything specific, honey?”

“I know Heike went to the market the other day and saw a pot of tulips that caught her attention,” the flower Seb used to give you whenever he had the chance. “I hope there are still some left.”

“I'm sure there will be. You’ll see how you brighten their day.”

I’m sure, you thought to yourself as you finished breakfast. Once you were done and made sure you were a bit tidied up and had everything you needed, you and Emily said goodbye to your parents with the promise of returning in the evening to have dinner together, although you knew you would end up doing overtime at work.

The little one’s blonde hair, completely loose, was tangled by the wind. Her boots were covered in mud because all she did was jump in puddles without letting go of her right hand from yours, and her left from the handle of the Peppa Pig backpack she carried on her shoulders.

“Mommy, why do I have to stay with Aunt Hanna today? It’s your birthday…”

“I have to work, mäuschen,” you said as calmly as you could, trying not to succumb to her gaze. “We have to help granny and pops buy food, pay the rent…”

“But granny and pops are your parents! They have to take care of you like you take care of me,” she interrupted.

You continued chatting cheerfully during the short walk from your house to the flower shop. While the clerk attended to you, Emily couldn’t stop pointing at all the flowers and giving them made-up names.

A few minutes later, you had already paid and arrived at your best friend’s house, who was already waiting for you at her door, arms crossed until she opened them as your daughter ran towards her.

“How is my favorite person in the world today?”

“I’m very good because today is Mommy’s birthday, Aunt Hanna!” she replied, burying herself in her arms. “Mommy said we can go see Heike and Norbert!”

“I bought them yellow tulips.”

You raised the bag with the pot and shrugged as she gave you a disapproving look.

You knew perfectly well that she was thinking the same as you, and you couldn’t agree more. But how were you supposed to tell Sebastian that he had a four-year-old daughter out of nowhere?

You tried to hold back the tears forming in your eyes when you heard the blonde telling your daughter that cartoons were on TV and that she should go watch them because she needed to talk to you. Fortunately, she didn’t object.

“I’m not going to tell you what you should do because we’ve been like this for almost five years and you’re old enough to make your own decisions, but…”

“I want to tell him, Hanna,” you blurted out, finally revealing what had been on your mind so many times. “I don’t know when or how, but I’m going to tell Seb that she’s his daughter.”

“I was going to ask if you were okay, but I see you’re not.”

Her face was completely serious, and you sweared that if today weren’t your birthday and you weren’t more sensitive than usual, she would have given you one of the biggest scoldings of your life.

“You know today is a difficult day for me,” you confessed what she already knew. You handed her the bag with the pot you had bought for Heike, and she hesitated whether to take it or not. “Would you mind taking this to Heike’s house? Emily is eager to see her, and I… I can’t go. Not today.”

“Y/N…”

Still holding the pot tightly to her chest and her compassionate eyes piercing you, you noticed her hesitation, finally speaking after a few seconds that felt like an eternity.

“Have you seen how the video is coming along?”

Your heart raced just thinking about the video you uploaded to YouTube yesterday, singing Red. You hadn’t checked its performance, and it wasn't your intention. Like every birthday, you had turned off your mobile phone and ensured the next time you turned it on, it would be with Hanna present to delete the email your ex-boyfriend sent you annually at midnight on your birthday.

“I haven’t seen it, and I don’t plan to,” you responded quickly, turning away. Her hand caught your wrist swiftly, forcing you to turn around. “Come on, Hanna, I have to go to work.”

“I want to talk about this, Y/N. You can’t act like nothing happened. You can’t keep avoiding it.”

“I don’t want to know anything about that, Hanna,” you answered aggressively, referring to any birthday wishes from the German. “I don’t want to read things I shouldn’t. Besides, considering he has free practice today, do you really think he wished me a happy birthday?”

“You should read it, Y/N. I know things between you and Seb aren’t what they used to be, but still…”

“No, Hanna, I don’t want to read it today, tomorrow, or ever.”

With those words, you turned away without even saying goodbye and started walking towards the bar where you worked, for once in your life, determined and with your head held high.

As you walked away, your friend’s voice grew louder, insisting on what you had already made clear you didn’t want:

“Y/N, you should read Seb’s damn message! Damn it, it could be important!”

You stopped for a moment, feeling a lump in your throat as Hanna’s unusual yelling and cursing echoed in your ears.

You turned once again, now facing her but much less determined and, to be honest, a bit scared, though that didn’t mean you would back down or change an opinion you constantly changed out of fear of facing the situation and wanting to change it.

“I don’t want to talk about Seb, Hanna! Just do me a favor and take the pot to Heike, please!” you yelled, feeling the anger taking over you.

“Y/N, I understand you’re confused and want to tell Seb. Maybe today is a good opportunity to get in touch again and…”

“Damn it, Hanna, I already told you I don’t want to talk about this!”

Your shouts were out of control. Your voice trembled, and so did the rest of your body. You hated talking about Seb and not knowing how to handle the situation, but you hated even more when Emily saw you like this and felt guilty for everything.

Now, with tears in her eyes, your daughter’s little head peeked timidly through the front door, unable to control herself as you were.

Once again, you had failed her as you had promised you wouldn’t.

“Hanna…” you said to the blonde, now calmer. You pointed to the child with your head, and she turned to look at her subtly. “I don’t want her to think I don’t love her or that all the problems are her fault, so please: don’t mention Sebastian when we’re together and she’s around. I don’t want to feel like an even worse mother than I already do most days.”

“Understood, no problem. I won’t bring him up in front of the little one.”

You prayed it would be that way, not just on the way to the bar, which wasn’t far from Hanna’s house, but also once you were inside and started preparing everything. While sweeping and mopping, you tried to avoid the mobile phone, but it was impossible. It had been resting on the counter, still off, since you arrived, and you tried your best to keep it that way. You had your daughter, your parents, and your best friend by your side; Niall, since you told him what happened with your ex, started sending you a postcard a few days before just in case it didn’t arrive on time. Even your ex-in-laws met with you, if not the day before, the day after.

What you were trying to avoid at all costs was the damn email that Sebastian sent every April 27th, which you wished you could read but didn’t because you knew it would leave you shattered.

You sighed and ended up taking the device, knowing that if you wanted to reveal the truth to the sunshine of your life, today was a good day to do it, as Hanna had told you.

“Mommy! We have a present for you!”

You jumped when you heard your daughter’s shouts. She and Hanna were running and walking, respectively, towards you. The little one was carrying a bag in one hand in which you could see the head of Billy, her favorite stuffed panda.

She didn’t hesitate to hand you the bag, with the teddy bear included, as soon as she got beside you. Hanna also approached you as you focused on your daughter, holding a cake in her hands.

“Don’t say anything,” she started, knowing you would ask why. “It was Heike’s idea, and since she knows how much you like cookie cake…”

“Especially hers,” you replied with a laugh, remembering all the times you and her son asked her to make that cake beyond special occasions. “God, you don’t know how much I appreciate it. Did she like the tulips?”

She nodded, placing the cake on the counter.

“She said they would have been better if you had given them to her. She wants to see you, Y/N,” she added.

“I know.”

“Do you want us to blow out the candles again, Mommy?”

Emily’s interruption and question took you completely by surprise. It was impossible to resist the sparkle in her eyes and her curved lips; it was as if you were denying Seb, not her.

“Of course, darling.”

Despite how mentally bad you felt, you made an effort not to show it. You took your daughter in your arms, and together you approached the cake. Prater started the singing, and Emily and you joined her immediately, swaying from side to side.

You blew out the candles as soon as they started clapping and, for once in your life, you wished to see Seb again, even if just for a moment.

A welcome, a new beginning or a farewell, a definitive goodbye. At this point you really didn't care much about it.

Thinking too much about Sebastian Vettel in the past few weeks had been the real reason you decided to publish Red yesterday. As you had composed it while pregnant with Emily.

Seeing your daughter not only playing on the little stage where you were used to sing almost every night with a couple of toy cars, including her father’s Ferrari Formula 1 car, and her stuffed animal, reminded you of the countless times Seb and you promised each other this life, but together.

“First of all, I don’t want you to panic, but… you have to see this.”

Hanna Prater’s words scared you like they rarely did.

With her phone in hand and without saying a word, she placed it in front of you, revealing the views the YouTube video you uploaded had garnered in just a day.

Your eyes widened at the high number on the screen. A small scream escaped your lips, startling Hanna, who imitated you, and even Emily, who ran towards you with great concern on her face.

“Mommy, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, darling,” you assured her, trying to contain the shock. “Keep playing. Aunt Hanna and I are talking about some things for my birthday party tonight.”

Your answer seemed to calm her. She nodded with a smile and returned to the stage, leaving you alone again.

"Yes, I know, Hanna, I have to improvise a birthday party now. I swear I'll do it as soon as we finish all this," you replied, anticipating her reproach.

Hanna shook her head and buried herself in her phone again. She seemed completely engrossed in it; her fingers were constantly moving across the screen, worrying you about everything she was trying to show you.

Hanna, I need you to tell me if it's Y/N in this link.

I mean, you don't have to tell me because I know it's her. She sounds exactly like Y/N, and she plays the piano, which is a plus because Y/N knows how to play the piano.

God, I feel like a mix of Sherlock and a stalker.

You understand me, so...

Jeez, tell her to answer to the message I've sent her, please.

I just want to know if the song is about us or if I'm just getting my hopes up four years after breaking up.

And, with those words and butterflies invading your stomach, you clicked on the link he attached. There you were, playing the piano while singing a song about the same guy who had not only talked to your best friend but also to you.

"Did Seb send you that message?" you wanted to know, thinking it was really a joke.

She nodded.

"It seems he didn't just send you the annual email, but also a WhatsApp message."

"A message and an email that, by the way, I am not going to read. Neither of them," you assured her.

"He knows you sing Red, and he suspects Red is about him," your friend began to say. "Don't you think there are too many coincidences for you two to, I don't know, talk or something?"

"I have nothing to talk to him about," you replied.

"Emily's existence means nothing to you then?"

It meant everything, but you had mixed feelings about telling Sebastian.

He was going to hate you, that was clear, but you didn't want that hate to end up being directed at Emily because of something that was completely your fault.

"Emily means everything to me, but I can't let Seb know, at least not for now. He has many chances of winning the championship this year finally, and..."

Once again, another excuse to avoid reality and the fear you had of rejection.

"Y/N, I love you so much and you know it, but you can't keep going on like this," Prater stated, raising her voice a little. "His parents know, yours know; I know, and possibly a large majority of people in this town. For God's sake, even Britta knows, and I don't even know how she hasn't told him yet!"

"Britta came..."

"I know perfectly well that Britta came looking for an explanation, just what Seb didn't do and maybe should have done even though you asked for space," she interrupted you, wanting to continue her impromptu speech. "If you want to move forward, you have to face your fear for once. If you won't do it for yourself, at least do it for Emily. She deserves to know her father and not ask me why her little friends in kindergarten have dads and she doesn't."

Her words made you feel like the villain of the story, the one doing everything wrong. You wanted to ignore her advice and, as always, avoid the subject, but you knew she was right.

"I can't, Hanna. I can't turn on the mobile phone. Not today."

"Allow yourself to start your thirties on the right foot. Don't you think it's better to face fear with someone than to go through it alone? You have me here for whatever you need, Y/N, and you know it."

You let out a long sigh. You walked to the bar, took your cell phone in your trembling hands, and turned it on, feeling the anxiety and uncertainty increase as the device slowly lit up.

When you entered the code and unlocked it, notifications started to appear.

You gradually checked the YouTube notifications, seeing the overwhelming number of likes and comments. Hanna, whose head was peeking to try to see something, shushed you when you ignored the YouTube-related emails and moved on to the text messages, caring little about what she thought.

Niall told you that going viral on your birthday was not only the best thing that could happen to you and the best birthday present they could have given you, but also a whimsical sign from fate to do something worthwhile with your music. At the end of the message, the Irishman asked you to call him when you could, as it was important.

You moved on to Sebastian's PR message, completely ignoring the Irishman's nudge and other various birthday greetings. Britta asked how you could post a video, singing, without telling her anything and, much less, singing about her client. She said you were crazy and lucky that Vettel hadn't suspected anything about the song or, fortunately, about mäuschen.

You calmed down a bit, but the tranquility barely lasted. Seb's message was the one at the top of the WhatsApp home page. It was more than obvious that it was the most recent, from just an hour ago. Also, it was the least one you wanted to open.

You looked up at Hanna, seeking confirmation you knew you didn't need, and that she had already given you.

"Open it, Y/N. It's okay."

You had to be alone when you did it. You asked your friend to take care of Emily and wait for a moment, that you'd be back in a few moments.

You went into the bathroom. You positioned yourself in one of the corners and sat on the floor, legs crossed and the phone in your hands, and started having flashbacks of the day you broke up with Seb.

Happy birthday, Y/N.

If you can and, above all, want to, please read the email I sent you.

I know it's you. The girl behind the song that went viral, I mean.

The song is great, but I couldn't expect anything less from you. It's pure art.

Your tears were already falling down your face. You took a deep breath and forced yourself, though it might not have been better in your current situation, to open the message your ex was talking about.

As usual, you had received it at midnight. And, of course, the profile picture was still one of the two of you lying in bed, him kissing you, and you smiling, just as you were now.

Dear sunshine of my life,

Happy birthday. Or better said: happy thirtieth birthday. 

I know we haven't heard from each other directly in four years. Maybe you see me on TV from time to time, or maybe not, and the last time I saw you was a few years ago, but that's not the point.

Maybe I wasn't the best boyfriend in the world, nor the best friend. I still wonder what I did to make you leave like that, but I won't blame you, at least not after so much time. I miss you more than I can express, and you don't know what I would give to have the chance to fix things between us.

I can't ask you to forgive me, nor can I force you to come back to me or to have a friendship, cordiality or whatever you want to call it, but I hope we can find the opportunity to forgive each other.

If you're ever ready to talk, or for anything you want, I will always be waiting for you, just as I have done for these past four, almost five, years.

P.S.: My mother always tells me she makes a cookie cake for your birthday, so I hope for your thirtieth she makes a special one and you all enjoy it as you deserve.

Tears blurred your vision as you continued reading Sebastian's words. A wave of emotions, ranging from anger and disappointment to perhaps, confusion, flooded every part of your body.

You began to write that you wanted to talk to him, that what you most desired in this world and what you most regretted was the ultimatum you gave him. That you could meet whenever he wanted to tell him everything that had happened since that day in Barcelona. That Emily is his daughter, that she looks more like him every day, and that you're convinced the moment he meets her, she'll become his favorite person.

After rereading all your words, written in desperation, you stopped.

You couldn't send him that; you couldn't reply, at least not yet. You couldn't give him false hopes, not when the possibility that revealing Emily's existence might affect the championship he so longed for with Ferrari, not just since he joined the team in 2015, but since you both barely knew yourselves.

You decided to delete the message and, instead, phone Horan's number, promising yourself that you would reply to Seb as soon as you hung up. You dried your tears, inhaled and exhaled deeply, trying to calm down a bit more, and left the bathroom with much more confidence than when you entered, as you heard the phone ringing.

Emily was still playing, now dancing to some music, while Hanna was speaking too heatedly in your native language with someone. You tried to pay attention to what the blonde was saying, but the Irishman's voice on the phone caught you off guard:

"Next week. London. Joseph Benson being your personal Britta, maybe?"

You didn't understand anything, and the mere mention of Roeske made you shudder. You knew Niall had done it with the best of his intentions, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt.

"What?"

"Capital Records, Y/N," Niall affirmed. "They heard Red and, although they don't know who you are or who the girl behind the song is, better said, I want to introduce you to them. Maybe I told them I knew the girl behind that..."

You saw your friend ending the call too quickly just to approach you, visibly desperate. She made some gestures, grabbing your arms to try get your attention.

"Jeez, Hanna, wait," you replied grumpily in German.

"Is Hanna there?" the singer wanted to know. "Say her hi for me, and thanks in advance for taking care of Emily next week!"

"We'll talk about it later, Niall. People are starting to come into the bar."

With that excuse, and without giving him time to finish talking, you hung up. You turned to Hanna, who was still desperate, making you also start to get desperate and worried.

"What happened?" you demanded to know, considering she hadn't said anything yet.

"I just talked to Sebastian and Britta."

Her expression had now become more serious. Your chest started to ache, and your heart began to beat faster.

"And...?"

"Sebastian is coming next week," she said in a low voice so your daughter wouldn't hear. "I know you'll come up with some excuse, and that you also have to talk to Niall about I don't know, but he wants to talk. Seb wants to talk to you... seriously."

[dancingbirdie]

I saw you did a new submission for Astarion. Is it okay if I ask for another thing for Astarion who’s very submissive and whiny for your touch?

Hi anon! I hope I did your request justice. I was feeling a little angsty today and this is what came out. Feel free to submit another request if this didn't scratch your itch, so to speak.

As always, comments and reactions are appreciated.

xoxoxo

Bring Me Back

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Astarion x gn!Reader

Word Count: 1.3K

Warnings/Tags: Oral sex (Astarion receiving), slight hand/finger kink, body worship, mentions of blood & gore, trauma/trauma response, disassociation, fluff and angst and smut, p0rn with a little plot.

Summary: Astarion just needs some love and comfort from you after a particularly brutal fight.

*****

There was blood on his hands. Too much. Dried and crusted, saturating the wrinkles around his knuckles. He sat on the edge of the bed you were sharing, hands limp in his lap. 

He’d killed so many today. You all had, but he more so than anyone else. It had been a vicious battle, the reality of which seemed to be sinking into his bones now. 

“Astarion?” you ventured carefully. You were carrying in a water pitcher and basin you had pilfered from the cook’s quarters downstairs. 

He didn’t seem to register your voice. You tried again, moving cautiously to kneel on the floor before him. 

“Astarion?”

“Hmm?” he responded, his glassy eyes finally sharpening enough to take you in. “Oh, apologies, darling. My mind… it must’ve wandered.”

“Are you feeling all right?” you probed in a low murmur. 

“I feel…,” he trailed off, his head shifting to stare vacantly out the dingy window near the bedside. “Numb.”

“Numb?” you echoed.

“Mm. Disconnected, more like,” he amended distractedly. 

“Hm, I see,” you replied, unsure of what more there was to say. 

Certainly you could understand the feeling. And certainly it was justified, after the carnage you all had wrought today. No matter how noble the cause, things had still ended in a tide of blood and viscera. 

You were at a loss for how to comfort him. But the rational part of your brain settled on addressing the most immediate problem before you. Namely, the blood on his hands. 

“Astarion,” you soothed, waiting until he turned back to look down at you again. “I’d like to clean up your hands before we rest.”

He stared at you blankly. Then slowly, his gaze drifted down to his hands. He turned them over, palms up, studying them absently.

“Is that okay? Can I touch you?” you pressed. 

You knew his displeasure in being touched without warning. You’d seen his reactions frequently enough, on the road with your other companions. Each clap on the shoulder from Gale. Each good-natured shove from Karlach. His response was subtle, but not lost on you. He would grimace and shrink away. Every time.

“Touch me?” he repeated now, brows upturned.

“Yes,” you nodded. “To clean your hands of the blood, love.”

He shuddered. You watched as his fingertips twitched. His bottom lip trembled. 

“Please,” he uttered in a broken plea. 

You nodded again and set to work. Gingerly, you lifted each hand, cradling it with reverence. You passed the rag soaked in tepid, rose-scented water over each digit, in between them. You swiped under each nail, over each knuckle, clearing his fingers of blood, one by one. You soothed over his palms, over the patchwork of calluses on the pads of fingers, over the delicate skin of the backside of his palms. He watched you in silence as you carried out your cleaning, mesmerized. 

The basin was colored deep crimson by the time you finished. Grabbing a dry cloth, you patted his hands dry. You squeezed them both gently before moving to release them. You prepared to stand and get yourself ready for rest. 

But Astarion stopped you. His hands, once limp while you were caring for him, suddenly clutched yours desperately. Your eyes whipped up to meet his in surprise. They were limned in tears that had yet to fall. 

“Please,” he whispered in a desperate sort of voice. A whine, almost. “Don’t stop. Don’t stop touching me.”

You swallowed thickly, unsure of what to make of his plea. 

He plunged ahead at your reticence. “I can’t… I want to be here. In this moment. But I can’t find my way back,” he croaked. 

His voice, so broken, so desolate, was rending your heart in two. It was more than you could bear. 

“Touch me,” he begged. “Bring me back. Please.”

You nodded, never breaking eye contact, as you rose from your crouched position on the floor before him. Tears streamed silently down both of your faces. Neither of you made a move to wipe them away. 

Slowly, carefully, you urged him to shift back on the bed as your legs parted to straddle him. Perched atop his lap, you threaded your fingers through his silvery locks. Pulled on them slightly. Tugged at them until he groaned. 

His hands grasped your hip bones, hard enough that you were sure there would be finger-shaped bruises there tomorrow. You didn’t mind. You would cherish them, those marks from your lover. 

“Come back to me, love. Come back to me,” you whispered in between hot, open-mouthed kisses. Your tongues danced together, like old friends.

You nipped at the hollow place near his clavicle. You sucked on the skin where his neck met his shoulder. His needy, breathy whines only goaded you further. You hoped the fire that was igniting in your veins would transfer to his. If the way his hips were canting into you was any indication, you were both tinderboxes itching to be set ablaze. 

“Be here. Be here, in this moment with me,” you crooned in his ear, rolling your hips into his. You were both still fully dressed, but your bodies crested and fell together in perfect timing. A practice performance for what was to come. 

“Yes, yes,” Astarion keened, as you slipped a hand to brazenly rub the flat of your palm against his erection. The fabric of his breeches was strained to the point of stretching. 

“I’m here,” he panted. “I’m here.”

“Good, stay with me, I want to taste you,” you whispered. “Come back to me, let me taste you.”

“Fuck, please,” he moaned, his head drooping onto your shoulder. He was so pliant in this moment, like putty in your hands.

“Lie back,” you ordered, nudging him backwards with your body. “Untie your breeches.”

“Yes,” he agreed, all too eager to follow your command. Chest heaving, he reclined further back onto the bed. His fingers quickly set to work on freeing himself from his leathers. 

“That’s it, darling, yes,” you cooed, watching him bare himself before you. “Stay here with me. Watch me. Watch me keep you here.”

“Gods, yes, yes,” Astarion whined, lifting his head to witness you take him fully in your mouth. 

“Fuck,” you heard him bark wantonly above you. Felt his hips cant himself deeper into your mouth, until your lips were meeting the base of him. 

His dulcet whimpers and moans were music to your ears. As you worshiped him with your mouth. As you caressed him lovingly back into his body, back into this moment, back into this bed with you. 

You could sense he was close to climax as his hands gripped your hair tighter and tighter. You swirled your tongue around him with greater fervor, teasing him closer and closer to the edge. 

“Let me come in your mouth, please, darling, please,” he keened, hips bucking erratically against you. 

Refusing to bring him down from this high with words, you met his eyes and nodded your assent, gripping his thighs tighter as if to say go on then, love. 

And he did. He spilled himself down your throat in delicious pulses. You swallowed every bit, relishing his release as if it were your own. 

With a soft pop of your lips, you released him. Licked him clean, before stretching out to lie on the bed beside him.

His chest was heaving as he recovered. You delicately traced the muscles of his abdomen as he came to. After a few moments, he lifted a hand to clasp your fingers. Stilled them with his own as they interlaced on his chest. 

“Did you find your way back?” you whispered. 

He turned his head to look at you. His lips upturned in a quiet, muted sort of smile. 

“Thanks to you,” he returned quietly. “I’m here again. Here with you.”

[ghosty-writes-23]

Just Can't Let Him Go. - Leon S Kennedy.

!TAGS!: NSFW Content, Needy!Leon, Desperate Sex, CONSENT IS KEY, Cheating (With Y/n), Sweet Ending, !WRAP IT, BEFORE YOU TAP IT!, Unprotected Sex, Soft!Dom!Leon, P in V, Creampie, Eating Out, Slight Anal, Spit Kink, Slight Choking, Praise, Aftercare.

Pairing: Vendetta!Leon + Mistress!Fem!Reader

Rating: Mature.

Summary: “I Know I Need To Put A Stop To This Before Its Too Late, But I Can’t He Makes Me Weak.”

Leon knew coming here was a mistake, he just needed to get back onto his motorbike and leave, to not be sitting outside your apartment at night waiting for you to reply to his message, to not be hoping you will open your apartment door and welcome him with open arms. He knew this was wrong to crave the touch and affection from one person while being with another, but he couldn’t stop himself. He needed you like oxygen even if it meant going behind his girlfriend’s back.

Word Count: 4.4k

Ghosty's Notes: Hello my lovelies, yes I have finally done it, I have written Vendetta!Leon finally, I know I have been promising it for months and I am sorry that it has taken this long to get around too, but I do hope you find it worth it, this is probley some of the filthiest smut I have written in a long time, so please enjoy.

----------

Thank you for all the support, it means alot❤️

-Ghosty❤️

----------

Tonight, you were finally enjoying a cozy night in after last night’s nightmare of a shift at the bar you work at, you hated spending your night’s serving asshole customers, unnecessary flirty comments or remarks from drunken men and woman trying to get in your pants or a free drink, minor’s trying to buy alcohol with clearly fake ID’s and the list goes on, from catching couples fucking in the bathrooms to breaking up fight’s that break out in the bar and having to get the police involved, these are never fun when you have to clean up the mess afterwards, who knew cleaning up blood would be such a mission.

But even with all the negatives you have for your work place, there are some positives like the friends you have made there, a boss that isn’t a complete prick and let’s you have free drinks when your working your shift just as long as they aren’t alcoholic ones.

Some of the customers can be sweethearts like a regular you have that comes in every Friday night just before closing and like’s to give the staff any left over food from his takeaway store that didn’t sell, but he didn’t want to throw it out. You and your work besties are always grateful and take it with a smile and give him a discount on his drinks since it was only fair.

You were sitting on your couch panting your finger nails while the opening credits to Buffy The Vampire Slayer season two started playing, you were humming along to the theme song and trying to focus on not getting black nail polish all over your hand.

It always annoyed you that you needed to do more then one coat to get the desired darkness that you liked, but you carefully applied the polish and waited for it to dry, which took forever. You planned on having a self-care night with painting your nails and doing a face mask that you will have to dig around in your bathroom to find.

Your friend Claire was always tell you needed to take some you time and relax, so she gave you a little self-care pack with some face masks, eyes patches that felt like slimy jelly in your hands and made you cringe at the texture, but she seemed so excited for you to try, so for her you would try and use some of the things she had gifted.

When the first coat of nail polish finally dried you went to grab the little brush handle to start the second coat when your phone buzzed, indicating a new message which made you frown because who would be messaging you this late, reaching over the table you grabbed your phone and unlocked it and went to look at the message.

Leon: I miss you Y/n…

You froze as you stared at the message on your phone screen, your heart rate picked up slightly as conflicting feelings and emotions started swelling in both your head and heart. You and Leon have a complicated friendship if that’s what you could call it.

You and Leon meet many years ago while you were working in a hotel bar, one of his missions went longer than anticipated and he stayed at the hotel you were working at and came down to the hotel bar just before you were closing.

He looked exhausted but not the kind that sleep could fix so you decided to keep the bar open for a little bit longer, so he could have his drink in peace and you could take your time closing the bar down for the night.

But one thing you couldn’t have predicted about that night was being bent over the bar counter and being railed with his gloved hand around your throat as he used your body like his own personal stress relief toy, you had never been fucked like that ever before, he made you see stars.

The following morning you had to sneak out of his hotel room, even after he tried to ‘convince’ you come back to bed with neck kisses and soft growls and as much as you wanted to stay in bed with him, you had to go to work downstairs or you would be fired.

You had showered at gotten to work only for your boss of the hotel bar calling you into her office and pulling up CCTV footage of you and Leon in the bar last night, you remember all the color draining from your face and trying to figure out an excuses you could make, but she just smirked at you and gave you a warning but also high fived you for finally getting laid.

She was one of the best bosses you had while working there, she was roughly around the same age as you and was the boss of the whole hotel’s daughter so she let some people get away with small things every now and then, but when you left to go to the job you currently have the city It broke your heart, because you would miss her a lot but you would always stay in contact and try and see each other when you could. It made you remember that time you told her Leon had a girlfriend.

*Flashback*

You and Iris were sitting in your apartment sipping on wine glasses and catching up, it has been months since you last seen her, you had missed her dearly. “So, wait let me get this straight, Leon as in the guy that gave you the most mind-blowing sex of your life, has a girlfriend.” Iris says before she took a sip of her whine, just then sentence made you want to curl up into a ball and hide forever. “he doesn’t call her his girlfriend, more like friends with benefits, but she see’s him as her boyfriend.” You tried to explain it to her the way Leon has explained it to you a few nights ago. “Still if he is involved with somebody else then he shouldn’t be trying to get into your pants.” Iris said before she sets her glass down on the coffee table and grabs your hands.

“Y/n honey, just because he is good for your hole, doesn’t mean he is good for your soul.” Iris says with a straight face, causing a very heated blush to come onto your face at her crude words. “IRIS.” You say with a soft embarrassed squeal in your voice. “You know I’m right.” Iris says matter of factily and deep down you knew she was right, going down this road would only lead to disappointment and heartbreak but that doesn’t stop you from melting every time he calls you darling, doll or his good girl, or the pure bliss you feel when you feel his muscular arms wrap around you making you feel safe.

*End of Flashback.*

Shaking your head you focused on the present, you still hadn’t replied to the message leaving it on read, you know what you needed to do, to ignore the message or even delete it and pretend it doesn’t even exist no matter how much it hurts your heart. This was wrong on so many levels, yes Leon didn’t love his girlfriend and it only seemed to be a situationship that they both benefited from and it’s not like they in an actual relationship but that didn’t stop you from feeling any less guilty, you wanted so badly to put an end to this before somebody got really hurt but deep down you knew he made you weak he always had, ever since he purred you were his doll as he took you from behind, you heart had never same since that night.

Leon: I know you said last time was the last time, but please Yn I need you even if it’s only just for tonight, she isn’t you, she doesn’t understand me the way you do, Please doll.

Y/n: Leon…

You didn’t know what to reply with, it has been months since you last saw him, all you could manage to send was his name because you knew deep down what was going to happen, you would welcome him into your apartment with open arms and open legs, you would let him ravish your body any way he wanted, marking you his until the bruises and bite marks faded a few days later, it made you feel weak and pathetic but you couldn’t help yourself, you loved him even if you weren’t meant too.

Y/n: I’ll leave the front door unlocked.

Leon: Just left the DSO, on my way now, be there in 10 minutes.

You sighed softy as you threw your phone onto the couch before placing your hands over your face, guilt was bubbling in your stomach, but so were butterflies. After tonight you had to put a stop to this no just for your sake but also Leon’s before things got to deep and complicated. Soon you heard the familiar rumble of a motorbike causing your heart to pick up and your thighs to clench subconsciously

When you heard you apartment door open you ran over to Leon in a hurried pace, your feet carrying your body towards him, Leon’s bag fell to the ground with a heavy thud before he opened his arms to catch you, your legs wrapping around his thin torso as his muscular arms wrapped around your body holding you securely to his body, you guys fit together like puzzle pieces, two halves of a whole, Leon has caught you effortlessly, his large gloved hands held you by your ass as he walked into your apartment and then pressed you against the front door.

Your mouths crashed together in a hunger and desperate filled kiss, your tongues intertwining and lapping at each other’s as your bodies grinded against each other’s. Moans and groans leaving both of your lips. Leon pulled away only for a few seconds, his forehead resting on yours as his blue eyes meet yours, desperation, hunger, lust and warmth clouded his eyes, his warm breath was hitting your face, you could see the tips of his ears were red.

“I need to be inside you doll.” He groaned softly, there was a soft growl in his voice that made you clench around nothing. “Condom?” you say softly, you knew you had some upstairs but something told you weren’t going to be making it upstairs. “Don’t have one on me this time sweetheart.” Leon says with a frustrated groan, you knew he had just gotten back from a mission, you didn’t think he would be taking a condom with him.

Biting your lip you knew the other option, you had gotten tested not that long ago and knew you were clean, you made it a priority that you get checked at least every 2 weeks to 4 weeks or whenever you sleep with somebody different, because you can’t be sure sometimes. Looking up at Leon he nodded his head. “I’m clean as well, got tested last week.” He tells you and you nod your head, you knew the risks of not using a condom, but you took your birth control this morning and you trusted Leon.

“Okay.” You say to him and he nodded his head and helped you out of your shorts and panties, they fell down your ankles pooling on the floor, you kept you hoodie on as Leon opened his pants, he got them half way down his thighs before he was grinding against you, you could feel his soft length grinding against you, causing you to bite your bottom lip soft sounds leaving your lips.

“Please Leon.” You soft whined as you tightened your arms around his neck as you pressed your body closer to his, there was no distance between your bodies, you could feel his warm breath on your neck panting softly, the scent of his cologne, gunpowder filled your nose it was a scent that brought you a sense of comfort and warmth, as well as made your body feel hot and bothered.

“I know doll, I know.” Leon says against your neck as he adjusted his position, soon Leon spat on his hand and used his saliva as lubricant as he gave his cock a few pumps before he brought it to your entrance, he tapped his tip a few times causing sweet whines to leave your lips before he pressed his hips forward causing his length slide inside smoothly causing sweet whines and cries to leave your lips as he filled you up, you could feel him growing inside you stretching you could perfectly.

One of his gloved hands came up to the door behind your head, to balance himself and use his other hand on your ass to keep you in place as he began to thrust at a steady but slow pace, burying his face in your neck, his stubble scratching the soft skin of your neck and shoulder but in this moment you didn’t care, all thoughts left your mind as you focused on the pleasure this man was giving you.

“Fuck, been waiting for long on for this.” Leon groans in your ear as you feel his grip on your ass tightens slightly, his gloved fingers digging into the soft flesh knowing there will be a bruise there tomorrow, you could feel his cock twitch as he kneaded your ass as he thrusted into you rhythmically, sweet moans and cries fell from your lips uncontrollably as you moved your hips to meet his thrusts, you leaned back against the door as you tightened your legs around his waist.

You could hear the door creak and rattle with every thrust, you felt Leon pick up the pace slightly, the tip of his cock hitting that sweetspot that made your eyes roll to the back of your head, you felt his hand that was on the door was now in your hair, tugging your head back slightly exposing your throat, you could feel his lips and teeth attack the soft skin, leaving marks on your skin that you will have to cover up tomorrow before you go into work. Sweat started to cover your body, your hair was sticking to your forehead, your body becoming slick.

“Leon.” You babbled his name out as you could feel your thighs behind to shake, you knew you were close, your body felt as if it was tightening, at the sounds of your cries Leon steady up his thrusts, he was now pounding into you could hear his grunts and praises.

“I know sweetheart, cum for me.” Leon grunted against your neck that his teeth were currently sunken into, soon he buried himself to the hilt inside you, that pushed you over the edge. You cried out his name with a loud whine and dug your nails into his shoulder as you felt your body come undone around him.

He soon followed and you felt his cock twitch inside you before he filled you up, causing pleasure to ripple though your body causing you to mew softly. You both stay like this for a few minutes, both breathing heavily and waiting for the trembling of your body to stop, but there was a smile on your lips. But soon you were lifted up and taken to your couch, where you were laid over the arm chair, you could feel Leon’s cum dripping down your thighs making a mess and your cheek flush bright red, you needed to clean yourself up.

Looking over your shoulder at Leon, you could see him admiring the sight of you bent over the couch arm, watching his cum run down your thighs, you saw him kneel down between your legs from behind, then he took off his gloves and put them on the ground before you felt his fingers run up the back of your thighs, your combined juices coating his fingers before he caught them up to his mouth and clean them a growl leaving his lips causing you to clench around nothing.

“You’re going to make such a pretty mess for me doll.” Leon says gruffy as you felt his hungry eyes on your puffy pussy. You felt him move the bottom of your hoodie up to the middle of your waist, leaving your behind exposed to him and the cool breeze. “Look at you, so perfect and dirty just for me.” He praises you causing a soft embarrassed whine to leave your lips before without warning he dived in, burying his face in between your thighs from behind feasting on you like a starving man.

A sharp hitch pitched moan leaves your lips as you pushed your hips into the couch, you buried your face into one of your couch pillows as you could hear the wet and sucking noises coming from behind you could hear Leon grunting also animalistically behind you devouring you, He carefully spread your legs more and buried face deeper, his tongue gently lapping at your sensitive bud, before taking it in between his lips and suckled softly.

“Leon.” His name fell from your lips in a hitch pitch slur, your brain was so hazy and blissed out that you couldn’t focus on anything expect him and the pleasure that was flowing through your body. “Such a good girl for me, aren’t you.” Leon groaned against your pussy as you started to grind on his nose, as you were moving your hips you felt his thumb gently tease your asshole, before he slowly pushed it in.

You tensed at first since it was your first time having something back there, but slowly you adjusted your hands where now gripping the pillow your face was buried in as you felt your eyes roll into the back of your head. You could feel another orgasm approaching, your slick was now running down your thighs as Leon’s mouth and fingers worked you, as if he knew your body like the back of his hand.

“That’s its baby, cum all over my face, I wanna drink every drop.” Leon growled against your pussy encouraging you as he increased the intensity of his ministrations. You couldn’t hold on anymore your body feeling as if it was on fire as it trembled under his touch, you squeezed your eyes shut as your body came undone but then you felt it, a gush left your body causing a squeak like moan to leave your lips as your body spasmed.

You felt his grip on your thighs tighten slightly as well as a soft suckling noise, you reached your hand back and tried to push his head away. “to sensitive.” You whined softly before you felt his fingers intertwin with your as he placed one last kiss on your pussy and ass before he got up.

“told you I would make a mess of you.” Leon says with a deep chuckle then you felt his hand around your neck, the same one that was just inside you a couple seconds ago, you could see the front of his shirt was drench in your juice’s causing an embarrassed blush to color your cheeks.

You looked up at him, your eyes glazed over with a hazy and dazed look of lust before you opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out, you felt a drop of his saliva drop on your tounge and you swallowed it immediately, you could taste yourself which caused your cheeks to burn brighter and a grin to come onto his face as he slightly tightened his grip on your neck.

“Such a good girl, always taking everything, I give you.” Leon praises you, his voice low and husky before he leans down and captures your lips in a gentle kiss, that made your heart leap into your chest.

Soon Leon helped you to your feet, he put his arm around your waist to keep you steady as your legs were like jelly and shaking, you both made your way to your bathroom upstairs. “Do you want to shower together or separately.” Leon asks as he guides you into the bathroom and places you on the toilet seat, before going over to your shower and turning on the hot tap. “Together.” You said not trusting your legs to be able to keep you steady in the shower, Leon nodded his head and walked over to you and gently tugged your hoodie off and placed it on the sink before he started to strip himself.

You could see new wounds and scars on his body, but you don’t say anything, you knew his work was private or he couldn’t say anything, but you knew his work drained him both physically, mentally and emotionally and that is what made you worry the most.

Stepping inside the now warm shower water you both felt out a hum as the warm water cascaded over your bodies, relieving the knots and tight muscles in both your bodies, Leon wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closely to his body. Leaning against his body you went up on your tippy toes and pressed and gentle kiss to his lips, this wasn’t sexually driven or rough as before but more tender and softer as if you were trying to savor this moment of soft intimacy in your own little bubble.

Leon returned the kiss also immediately, his callous hands running down your curves before they settled on your ass and give it a small squeeze. “this.” He mumbles against your lips as he gave you soft pecks. “this is why I can’t let you go.” he whispers softly before his blue eyes meet yours. “You’re not just sex to me y/n, but something more.” He says as he cradles your head in his hands before his lips meet yours again in a soft and passionate kiss.

“but we can’t keep sneaking around Leon, it isn’t fair to your girlfriend, even if you’re in a relationship or situationship it still isn’t fair on her.” You say as you gently pressed on his bare chest breaking the kiss softly. “I know.” He admits quietly as he rested his forehead on yours, his damp hair was pressing against your forehead and for a moment you forgot that you were in the shower as his eyes looked into yours, you could see the guilt in them but also a look you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“you know how I feel about you y/n, I’ll figure something out somehow I promise.” Leon promises you as he places a kiss on the top of your head, despite the uncertainty and guilt hanging over them, all you wanted to do was be closer to Leon, he made you feel a way that no other man has ever made you before, he makes your heart flutter and skip a beat with just a look, his arms feel like home, making you feel safe and protected when they are around you, but you knew things were going to be easy for either of you.

After your shower and putting both of your clothes into your washing machine, you were laying on your bed just in a pair of panties, your hair was still a little damp but you knew it would dry overnight, only your bedside table lamp was on giving your bedroom a more relaxed vibe as you could hear the rain outside hitting your windows.

Leon came in a couple moments later, only wearing a pair of briefs, lucky he had left some of his clothes from last time he was here, He soon joined you on the bed and pulled you closely to bare chest as his hand started to run through your dam hair, causing a soft hum to leave your lips.

“Beautiful.” You heard Leon mumble before he leaned capturing your lips in a soft and passionate kiss, like you shared in the shower, you hummed softly against his lips and kissed him back the same, your hands resting on his bare chest, your eyes fluttering closed as you let yourself be lost in this man that you know has capture your heart despite everything.

The dim lighting in the room and the rain outside gave your bedroom an almost intimate and sensual atmosphere as you moved closer to Leon, straddling one of his thick thighs, you could feel the emotions in the kiss, the unsaid words you couldn’t say out loud, the promises and hope. You both explored each other’s mouths languidly, taking the time to savor the taste and feel of each other, not knowing when the next time you would be able to see each other.

You felt him break a hand up and gently stroke your cheek with his thumb as he broke the kiss, he rested his forehead on yours, gazing into your eyes with warmth and adoration. “I love you y/n so damn much.” He confesses softly, his tone was tinged with desperation and longing, as if it was a slient plea for you to always be his and only his.

Reaching up you intertwined your fingers with the hand that was on his cheek and leaned up and softly kissed him, you didn’t say the three words back to him but your actions showed it, slowly you pulled away causing a groan to leave his lips as he tried to chase after your lips, but you place one of your fingers on his lips.

“If your serious about this then leave her, I’m sick and tired of sneaking around behind everybody’s back and feeling as if I am walking on eggshells.” You say to Leon hoping he would understand where you were coming from, you felt him lean forward and soft peck your lips as he gave the soft flesh of your ass a small squeeze.

“I promise I will y/n, you’re the only one I want.” He mumbled against your lips as if he was sealing a promise, you didn’t know what the future held for the both of you, but you knew if Leon kept to his promise then you wouldn’t let him slip through your fingers not again.

“Okay.” You say to him as a smile came across your lips. “Okay.” He repeated back to you echoing your sentiment, he pulled you closer so now there was no space between you as you laid on top of him, you settle in for the night, the soft glow of the lamp casting a warm ambiance over your entwined bodies. Even if this was to only last just for tonight you were going to savor every single moment until the sun raised in the morning…

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©Ghosty-writes-23, 2024. all rights reserved. !I DO NOT! consent to translations or replications or reproduction of my work on any other social media platforms and or make AI Bots without my explict consent and permission.

[w2soneshots]

Chose one -W2S

words: 1.4k+

warnings: light angst, sex references.

summary: when both Harry and Chris fall for you, you realise you’re going to have to choose one.

notes: omg I actually wrote something that’s not a request🤭. my fics have been super short lately so here’s an extra long one to make up for it✨. I hope you enjoy my lovelies!💓🫶🏼

Liked by bambinobecky, wroetoshaw and 781,045 others

y/username: life's to short to wear boring clothes💓

-comments-

taliamar: marry me.

-> y/username: 👰‍♀️

chrismd: 🔥🔥

faithloisak: you look gorgeous!!

y/nfanpage21: I need that dress omg

user51209835: not Chris thirsting over y/n😭

I've been friends with Harry for years. We met through my best friend Talia, at one of her birthday parties. That's also where I met the rest of the boys. We became friends and they began inviting me on nights out, parties and other events. I formed a separate connection with them all. Tobi, JJ, Ethan and Josh are like my older brothers. Simon's my best friend's boyfriend. Vik was a little awkward at the beginning but now I have the most interesting conversations with him. Me and Harry immediately hit it off. He was also awkward but I managed to pull him out of his shell, I get his humour and he gets mine. We just click.

I also met Chris through the boys. I found him hilarious and I loved the all the witty little comments he made. We became good friends after our first meeting and I now text him regularly. Recently I was having a conversation with Talia, over the phone. When she brought up the comment that Chris left on my most recent instagram post. I wasn't sure what to say. "He definitely likes you y/n!" She stated. My eyes widened. "No- no way." I stumbled on my words. "You don't like him?" "I- I'm not sure. I've never thought of him that way."

After that day I felt strange. I didn't know what to say to Chris. I also hadn't spoken to Harry in a few days. But I will see them both today at the party Tobi's hosting at his apartment. I began getting ready at five. I took a long shower, blow dried then styled my hair, applied some makeup and finally finished with my outfit. I had sent a text to the girls to ask what they were wearing so I chose my outfit around that.

Liked by taliamar, chrismd and 610,357 others

y/username: 🐆

-comments-

wroetoshaw: woah

freyanightingale: omfg the jacket💘

faithloisak: unbelievable🤤🤤

-> behzingagram: slow down there buddy

y/nfanpage21: her style changes every week, girl can do both

user91470263: are both Harry & Chris in love with y/n?🤨

I arrived at Tobi's apartment by seven. I rang the doorbell. "Hey! Come in." Tobi greeted me after he opened the door. We shared a quick hug then headed to where everyone else was. Not everyone had arrived yet but Talia had so I quickly went to say hello. "Hi babe! You look hot as fuck." She excitedly hugged me. "So do you. Is that the dress you bought last week?" I asked. "Yeah! I'm glad we were dressing up so I had an excuse to wear it."

Once the party got going and everyone arrived, most of us began drinking. I got really tipsy very quickly. I went off to the bathroom to clean myself up and take a deep breath. Just as I was leaving I banged straight into someone. My head banged back onto the wall. "Ow. Fuck." I clutched the back of my skull. "I'm so sorry. Are you ok? y/n?" A voice rambled. "Hmm," I opened my eyes. A very concerned looking Harry stood before me. "Oh. I'm fine. Don't sweat it." I hurried back into the living room.

"You alright?" Faith asked. "Mhm." I hummed. "You just seem a little... tense." I sighed. "Can we go into the kitchen? I need to ask you about something." I whispered to her. "Of course, let's go." She replied, standing from the couch. We slipped out of the room. I stood with my back leaning against the marble counter. "I've been feeling weird lately," I began, my drunkenness about to make me spill all of my secrets.

"I think I like Harry. Like more than a friend," Her eyes widened. "But I was speaking to T the other day and she said that she thinks Chris likes me. I'm just really confused." I sighed as an imaginary weight lifted from my shoulders, from the confession. "Well, do you feel for Chris like you feel for Harry?" She asked. My eyes fluttered closed. "I don't think so. I think he's... nice looking but I don't like him." "Well there's your answer."

I decided that I was just going to get absolutely pissed so I wouldn't have to deal with anything tonight (that was a mistake). Once me and Faith rejoined the group we all decided to play 'never have I ever'. I sat between Faith and JJ. "Okay! I'll start," Freya announced. "Never have I ever gone skinny dipping." Freya, Josh and JJ drank. "What?! You're all boring man." JJ shouted. Ethan went next. "Never have I ever had sex in a car." JJ, Faith, Ethan, Harry, Chris and myself drank. When I put my glass down I noticed two faces looking at me, Harry and Chris. I quickly looked away.

After a few more rounds with nothing that interesting it was my turn. "Never have I ever had a crush on my friend." I blurted out. My face dropped. I looked to Faith. She was just as shocked. "I- I think that's my cue to go home." I pushed myself from the couch. I turned to looked at Tobi. "Thanks for a great night." I smiled then made a be line for the front door.

As I waited for my taxi to arrive it began to rain. "For fuck sake." I whispered under my breath. "Here." I heard from behind me. I jumped then turned to see who it was. Harry stood there with his jacket in his hand, gesturing for me to take it. I smiled lightly then took it. Covering my hair from the rain. We stood there in silence, the only sound being made by the heavy downpour of rain. Harry's shirt began to stick to his body as it became increasingly more soaked. I stepped towards him. Attempting to cover the both of us with his coat. He unexpectedly wrapped his arms around me, pulling me closer. I leaned into his touch.

"I drank." He said breaking the silence. "What?" I replied quietly, confused. "Your question. About having a crush on your friend. I drank." He explained. My heart rate began to speed up. "Oh, who?" I asked nervously. "You." He whispered. My face dropped. I looked up at him, slightly breaking our hug. "Really? You- you like me?" I thought I was hearing things. He nodded. "It's alright if you don't feel the same, I just needed to tell you." "I do feel the same Harry." I leaned into him. Our lips inches apart. My taxi pulled up. I stepped away, passing his coat back. "Sorry." I mouthed as I slid into the car.

The next day I woke with an awful hangover and a bucket of guilt. I needed to speak to Chris. I can't pursue anything with Harry until I tell him about my lack of feelings. Later in the day I decided to text him. He agreed to come to my apartment. Twenty minutes later there was a knock at my door. I opened it with a smile then let him inside. "Listen Chris-" I wasn't sure what to say. I didn't even know for sure if he liked me. "It's ok. We don't have to make this awkward. I liked you but I know you and Harry are- you know, so don't worry about it. I'll back off." He said politely. I let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you. And I'm sorry." "Nothing to be sorry about. Let's just stay friends, yeah?" I nodded. "Yeah."

A few days later I turned up to Harry's apartment. I hesitated to knock. Then I took a deep breath and lifted my fist to the door. I waited almost a minute before the door opened. Harry stared at me. "Uhm, hi." I smiled softly. "Hey. What are you doing here?" He asked. "I um- I wanted to apologise for the other day. I shouldn't have left like that." I began. We stared into each other's eyes, neither saying a word. He stepped closer, so close in fact that I could feel his breath on my lips. "Can I kiss you?" He asked in a hushed tone. "Yes." I whispered. He closed the gap slowly. My hands moved to his shoulders. His traveled slowly down to my waist as we shared a sweet kiss.

[cowboybarzy]

enemies to lovers with mat with D 13 and D 22. media girl x star player where mat loves to get under her skin because he’s dumb and can’t admit he likes her. she breaks up with her horrible bf and one night when she is out with the team something changes

thank you so much for the request!! this turned out very smutty but also a long part of plot so I hope you like it <3

13. “Let me help you forget that jerk.” & 22. “Do you feel what you’re doing to me.”

word count: 6.5k

warnings: drinking, jerk ex boyfriend, SMUT (18+)

"Oh, hey guys." The elevator door opened and a bunch of laughing hockey players stumbled out.

"Hey, (y/n)! Not going back to your room are you?" Oliver broke from the conversation to greet you.

"Yeah, actually. Kinda tired," you replied, hoping the stained tears you'd just dried in the bathroom weren't that obvious.

"Oh, come on. The night is young. Come out with us." He pointed to the guys behind him, including Mat, who looked at you with an expression you couldn't make out.

"Had a bad night so far, I think I just want to stay in," you said, shaking your head and forcing a smile.

"Well, what a better way to end it with a drink?," Matt Martin chimed in, his charming smile almost convincing you.

"I think she doesn't want to come. So let her be," the other Mat said, not even looking at you, and turned away from you and started shooing the guys in the direction of the exit. The guys let it go and with a wave they started following Mat.

As you watched them walk away, the tone in which Mat had said it sunk in and the sadness you had just felt turned into anger. Looking back on the relationship you had with Mat over the past few months, you could tell you really didn't have any. You were friendly with all of the other guys, coming to work was always a blast and with being around the team so often you had developed many inside jokes and gotten to know most of the very well. Except Mat. You could tell he had a problem with you but you didn't know why when everyone else was so nice to you. When you walked into a room and Mat was joking around and acting goofy, this side of him immediately stopped when he saw you. He was always acting quiet and when it came time for you to film content with him, he was acting like his normal self when the camera was on, but the second it was off and it was just the two of you, he was back to quiet and mumbled backhanded comments.

"You know what," you snapped out of your thoughts. "I think this night does call for a few drinks."

Wally turned around with a victory shout and threw his arm around you when you caught up with them.

***

"Alright, now tell me why you're downing these shots like you want to black out." Wally's face was already a bit blurry when you moved your head too quickly, but you finally forgot your boyfriend. Sorry. Ex-boyfriend.

That's right. After three years, you finally saw through all of the red flags and gaslighting and had enough of his bullshit. Or maybe it was the fact that you caught him cheating that made you realize all of these things.

"Oh, no, no, no. I am not drunk enough to spill my secrets to you." Wally acted all offended and again tried to the information out of you and finally flagged down the waitress to get you more shots. She delivered quickly, placing four more shots in front of you.

The first went down easy, so the second should go down just as smoothly. But you never got to that. "I think you've had enough to drink," Mat's voice carried over all of the noise from the bar. Your head snapped in his direction and you saw him staring at you intensely.

"He speaks." You lifted the little glass in the air. "And who are you to tell me I've had enough to drink?"

"You couldn't even get that question out without slurring, so maybe that." His stare somehow got more intense the longer you stared back. It might have something to with the fact that you crept the shot glass closer and closer to your lips.

"You don't like me. And I don't listen to guys who don't like me." You closed your eyes and took the shot. "Anymore."

"And there it is. Boyfriend?" Wally got your attention again and slightly pushed him.

"I don't wanna talk about him." You pouted and while Wally grinned victoriously, the other guys went back to their own conversation. A few moments passed, where you started to fast track through your memories of your relationship. The good and bad ones, but the bad ones stood out. "Why are all guys such idiots?"

All six of the guys turned their head, looking at you with a playful smile. "Yep, I am suddenly extremely aware that I am sitting at a table with just guys. Excuse me."

You stumbled through the bar to the bathroom, your head was spinning like crazy, not just because of the alcohol but also because despite how your ex-boyfriend mistreated you these past few years, it was still a loss you felt deeply. He was an ass, but you loved him and that didn't just go away in a night. You had no idea how long you stood in the bathroom, trying not to fall over but also gossiping with a few girls that found you in the bathroom with whom you had now become friends with.

A loud knock and call of your name disrupted the rather nasty conversation about your ex-boyfriend. You slowly opened the door to reveal Mat standing there with a glass of water. "You ok?"

"Why do you care, Mathew?!"

"Oh my god, are you the cheating boyfriend? She told us how cruel you are so get the hell out of here! You don't deserve her!," the blonde girl, whose name you'd unfortunately already forgotten and who was one of the sweet girls listening to your little rant, pushed herself through the door and in between the two of you.

"What?," Mat said perplexed looking at you for help.

"No, that's just Mat. What do you want?"

"You've been in here for a while. Thought you might need some water."

"No, thanks." You turned away, walking deeper into the bathroom to sit on the little couch. Your head started spinning again. Why was he being nice to you?

"Here." When you looked up, the girls were gone and only Mat stood in the bathroom handing over that glass of water that looked absolutely delicious. You crossed your arms, pouting, to which he rolled his eyes and placed the glass on the counter. "He cheated? Don't tell me you're still with him?"

"No! I might have stayed with him longer than I should have, but I do have some self respect. And, again, why do you care?"

"Jesus Christ, (y/n), why the hell do you think I don't care?," he shouted at you to which you let out a loud chuckle.

"Are you kidding? You hate me. Fine. I don't care." You did. "But don't come in here pretending to care and make a fool out of me."

"What are you talking about?" You scoffed, jumping to your feet, the alcohol giving you the courage.

"What am I talking about? Are you kidding? You never talk to me. You never even look at me. You stop joking around when I'm in the same room. You're visibly in pain when I have to take some pictures and videos of you. I don't know what I ever do to you, but whatever. I don't care anymore. Clearly it's your problem."

He sighed, then took a deep breath. Still never looking directly at you. "See, you're not even looking at me now! So get out. Have a laugh about my little break down in here but leave me alone!"

"I don't hate you," he simply said, making you even more angry. He was so insufferable. Always brooding, giving you dirty looks and now he says he doesn't hate you? That's exactly what you told him, listing every time he made you feel small and unliked by him.

"From day one! I walked in, thinking this was going to be the best job ever and yes it is! But the one guy I actually wanted to like me turned out the best the biggest asshole. But that's not what everyone else says about you, so why are you so mean to me? You're not like this with the rest of the social team, so it must be me! What did I do to you? Why is it just me?," you continued to now yell at him. But he stayed silent. He was on edge though, itching to tell you but fighting to hold back whatever he wanted to say. "You know what? I have had too much to drink to have this conversation right now."

"No you didn't," he replied, pressing his lips together.

"What? Were you not there starring daggers into me while I took like six shots with Wally?"

"I had the bartender switch to water. Half the time you were drinking water. Not counting your Long Island iced tea, you maybe two shots." Hm. Maybe that's why you didn't feel as drunk as you normally would be after that many shots. Your surprised faced actually made him chuckle for a split second. "Yeah. Wally didn't notice either. On that, why the fuck were you taking shots with Wally?"

"Because he offered. And he likes me. And I like him." He looked like you just stabbed a knife in his heart. "Why? You jealous?"

He didn't answer and your heart skipped a beat.

"Why'd you do it?," you asked quietly, concerning the fact that he had made the bartender switch to water.

"Why do you ask so many questions?"

"Maybe if you would answer one once in a while I would have so many! So why did you do it? Why are you jealous?" Silence. Again. And you started to get annoyed again. "God, Mathew would you just answer the damn question! You are such a difficult person. Why did you-"

"Because I like you!," he yelled back, shutting you up.

"W-what?," you asked, very confused. "That doesn't even make sense."

"I know." At least he admitted it. His face grew soft and he closed his eyes for a second. "Let's go, I'll walk you back to the hotel."

"No! I'm not going anywhere with you," you protested, crossing your arms again. He rolled his eyes.

"Come on."

"No. Not before you explain to me why the hell you would say you like me when these past few months clearly state otherwise."

"I-." But he wasn't able to say more than that.

"Yeah, that's what I thought." Disappoint you brushed past him heading for the door, but before you could make it, his hand grabbed you by the arm, spinning you to face him. His large hands grabbed you by the sides of your face and pulled you into him until your lips met.

The act caught you off guard so it took a couple of seconds to react, but when you did you practically melted in his touch. All the pain you had felt from your breakup suddenly vanished and only warm fuzzy feelings remained. His lips were so soft and warm, you wanted to explore them further. He must have felt the same way as he began to open his mouth with a sigh. His tongue brushed over your lips and elicited a small whimpering from you in response. You quickly became addicted to his touch and lifted your own hands to feel him.

"Holy shit." You both ripped apart turning to the familiar voice. The bathroom door was open and in the frame stood Ryan who was desperately trying not to laugh. "Sorry." But just as quickly as he appeared, he disappeared again.

Stunned at what just happened, not only the kiss but also that you'd been caught, you stood in that bathroom silently. Your brain went 100 mph, but to your surprise after the eventful day you had, the only thing in your mind was that kiss.

Mat broke the silence first. "Will you let me walk you back now?"

You only managed to nod and let Mat guide you out of that bathroom. He went to go talk to the guys quickly, letting them know that you'd be leaving. You were too embarrassed to face the other, knowing that Ryan probably told them what he saw, so you awkwardly stood by the exit until Mat came back to quickly escort you outside.

"Your purse."

"Oh." You accepted it, hanging it over your shoulder. You didn't even realize you forgot it. "Thank you."

The short walk back to the hotel was silent, even the elevator ride up to your floor and up until you reached your room. "Thanks for walking me back. Good night."

You started closing the door, but Mat interrupted. "I don't hate you."

"Okay."

He chuckled. "That's it? No millions of questions?"

"You're confusing me. And I'm tired. It's late? I don't even-"

"It's 11:30," he answered your thought looking at his watch.

"Oh. What? That's it?"

He chuckled again. "Yeah you were drinking at lightning speed."

"Well, I was trying to forget a certain someone."

"I'm sorry," he said. "Sorry that he cheated on you. You don't deserve that."

You tried to smile as a thank you, but it turned out very sad. Mat's hand reached out to brush some hair out of your face and your heart clenched at that gesture. "Did it work?"

"What?"

"Forgetting him?"

"The alcohol? No." It was definitely not the alcohol that helped you forget him, but the person standing in front of you. You thought he understood what he meant when his hand came up again to brush that same strand of hair out of your face again, but lingered slowly creeping back to the same place it was nested when you kissed at the bar.

"Want some help?" He suddenly stood very close to you. In the last few minutes he had entered your room enough to push you in and have the door close behind the two of you. And you hadn't even realized. You only had eyes for him. Or his eyes, which sparkled a desire full green. The tension that had been building ever since your fight at the bar almost became unbearable, which is probably what gave him the confidence to ask the question and for you to reply as you did. "Will you let me help you forget that jerk?"

You took the last step needed to stand flush against him and within a second your lips were on his. This kiss may have started out as passionately as the one at the bar but it quickly grew into something hotter.

Mat pushed you further into the room until you stumbled into the dresser onto which he lifted you with ease. You legs wrapped around his hips tightly so he had no room to escape, not that he had any plans to do so as his tongue licked into your mouth. You couldn't hold back a moan as Mat devoured your mouth like he couldn't get enough of you, your fingers digging into his soft brown hair.

You kissed for endless minutes, but when Mat eventually pulled away, your chest heaved, lungs pulling in much-needed oxygen. He breathed harshly, his mouth not retreating too far so you could feel him breathing against your lips. He nibbled on your lower lip, the feel of his teeth sinking into your swollen flesh making you moan softly. "Such pretty sounds," he mumbled in between teasing bites. "All for me?"

"Mhm," you whimpered, nudging your lips closer to his, desperate for his touch. He chuckled, but couldn't help but kiss you back, him too needy to feel this passion again.

More kisses, moans, and whimpers passed until you slowly inched your hips to the edge of the dresser until you finally met his. A deep groan rumbled through Mat's body upon contact and with his big hands he placed on your ass he pulled you even closer, rubbing his growing bulge against your quickly heating center. The layer of both of your jeans got in the way of the best possible friction and both of you realized that the clothes issue needed to be solved as fast as possible.

His mouth broke from yours to explore your jawline and neck. Just as your hands moved from his hair to open up his jeans, one of his hands moved to pull you v-neck down one shoulder, exposing more skin. Small moans climbed up your throat as his tongue started nibbling and licking your skin. "Mat," his name was barely a whisper, but he heard it and picked up on the plea to speed things up. He stepped away just enough so you could comfortably take off your sweater and bra in which time he pulled his pants down.

You didn't have a lot of time to react to the sight of his erect cock straining his underwear that already looked too tight from his thick thighs before Mat stepped back into you capturing your lips for another intoxicating kiss. You arched your back when his grabby hands got ahold of your breast, massaging it and rubbing your nipple between his fingers.

"Do you feel what you're doing to me? How could you ever think I hated you?," he asked out of breath as he continued to rub his hard cock over your center.

"Well, there is the time you-"

"Let's not get into this now, eh?" You laughed, but agreed since what he was doing to you felt way too good to stop. "But let's get you out of the pants and onto this extremely comfortable bed."

With that, he lifted you in the air walking you over to the bed and throwing you onto the mattress. Before dropping to his knees with a mischievous grin, he tore his sweater off then got to work on tearing your jeans off as well.

"God, I have been waiting to get my hands on you since the moment you first looked at me," he groaned as if he couldn't believe this moment was real.

"Then why-"

"Shush, I wasn't being mean to you," he interrupted.

"I was going to say, then why are you talking so long to take me?" The right corner of his lips curled up and his eyes darkened before finally also taking your panties off and grabbing you by your ass pulling you to the edge of the bed.

"Oh, honey, you're so wet" Mat rumbled, his fingers exploring your drenched folds, spreading you open for him while you trembled. "And who are you dripping for?"

"You." The word only a whisper.

"No one else on your mind?"

"No," you moaned bucking your hips into his touch. "Just you."

"That's right." He finally circled your clit, dragging a strangled moan from your mouth, before spanking the little bundle of nerves, making you jerk and cry out. "So sensitive and responsive," he murmured. "I've dreamed about your pussy—and it's even better than I imagined," he confessed distractedly before ducking down, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking until you were squirming beneath him so badly, he had to pin you down to the bed.

Pleasure washed through you in waves so overwhelming, your hands grabbed Mat's soft hair to keep yourself steady. Your whole body quaked, your hips bucking up against his face while he sucked your clit into his mouth, his tongue teasing the tip of it until you felt like you were going to shatter apart. But he wouldn't let you come so fast and continued teasing you. Mat licked at your pussy, his tongue digging into the depths of your hole as far as he could go, before using the tip of his tongue to tease your clit.

"Oh, god! Mathew," you moans grew louder at the sounds of him eating you out, something you ex never liked to do (not that you were thinking about him at all), and the thoughts of how hopefully he'd be fucking you numb in just a few minutes. If he was that good at foreplay, how good was he at the actual fucking part?

Just when you thought he couldn't get any better, he ripped his head out of your grasp and lightly slapped your clit, making you cry out. "So sweet," he mumbled, admiring your pussy again after having a taste. His fingers explored the sensitive tissue again before sinking one and then another finger into you. You moaned and squirmed, grabbing the sheets for some support.

"That's it. I can feel you squeezing me, you're close, eh?" You could only hum in response, still squirming beneath his touch. "Then come for me, honey."

Mat's fingers worked in and out of your hole slowly, dragging against your sensitive walls like he was reveling in how tight you were. His tongue brushed against your clit, making you moan and whine, the pleasure he offered so exquisite, you felt certain you were going to come soon. When his fingers pressed against that spot inside you, you abruptly screamed as you finally came. Your hands clutched the sheets then captured his hair again as you bucked your hips up violently against his face, his mouth never relenting even as your entire world shattered around you. His kept fucking you with his fingers, his mouth sucking on your puffy clit as pleasure coursed through you in wave after overwhelming wave. Your legs shook on either side of his head, the rest of your body trembling while Mat worked you through your orgasm.

Then, when the pleasure began to subside, Mat didn't relent. His fingers were still plunging in and out of your pussy while he licked furiously at your sensitive clit. You squirmed, whining at the overstimulation, but he only raised his head for a moment to stare up your body at you.

"One more," he rasped, pressing a kiss to your clit. "Gimme another one, honey," he said, greedy hunger in his voice. Then he spoke no more because his mouth was busy eating you out like a starved man. When he added a third finger to your cunt, fucking you harder with his fingers curled inside you, pressing against that spot, you felt the tension coiling inside you again. Mat was relentless, his tongue lashing against your clit, and it wasn't long before you came again.

If you'd thought your body had trembled and shook through your first release, it was nothing compared to the quaking shudders of your second orgasm. You screamed your throat raw at the overwhelming pleasure consuming your body and mind, and all you could do was hold onto his head and ride it out with him.

When you finally started to come down, you saw him licking your arousal from his fingers, his green eyes heated when he caught you staring at him. He smirked at your slumped, limp body and began to rise. He climbed on top of the mattress, pulling up with him, so your entire body now lay next to him.

"Gimme a minute," you huffed, still catching your breath, to which he chuckled.

"Take your time." With one hand under his head, he grinned at the ceiling. What he was saying earlier was the truth. He did like you and cared for you. He pinned for you and lusted after you. He just couldn't express that in the workplace and that somehow turned into passive aggressiveness. But he would apologize for that later. For now, he was just happy that after months of fantasizing you were actually lying in bed next to him.

"Thank you," you finally said waving your hand around. "For that."

Another laugh, one that made your heart skip a beat, left his mouth. "You sound like it was your first time being eaten out. And you're welcome."

When you didn't answer, only cringed, he sat himself up on his elbow looking down at you. You were strangely comfortable with being naked around him. With past boyfriends or hookups, you always quickly found something to cover up with. "How long were you with this jerk?"

"A few years."

"And he never once went down on you?" His perplexed face suddenly made you feel ashamed. Not about yourself but that you kept up with your ex for so long.

"Not never. He just didn't like doing it. And I haven't enjoyed it with others either so it wasn't a big deal," you admitted, though after what you just went through, you might have some reevaluating to do.

"Jesus Christ, (y/n)! You wasted your time with him. He should have been at your feet, worshipping you, thanking whatever god he believes in that you even looked at him let alone touch him. You especially deserve so much better." Your heart clenched and that fuzzy warm feeling in your belly returned. Since you had no idea how to respond, you kissed him. First softly, almost hesitant, but that feeling only grew stronger and within a few minutes you had pushed him back into the mattress and climbed on top of him.

You moaned into Mat's mouth, kissing him harder, your drenched center settling over the bulge in his pants. Your breath hitched in your throat and Mat took the opportunity to nip at your lower lip, making you moan again before you began rocking against his hardness. Renewed arousal flooded through your body, your skin heating while you kissed him until it became too much and you had to wrench your lips away from the handsome hockey player so you could gasp for air.

"Mathew," you cried softly, his name falling from your mouth in a whispered plea while your hips kept grinding down on his cock. He felt so big and thick beneath you and you didn't know what you wanted more, to keep grinding down against him or feel him fill you up.

Mat pressed his smile against your jaw, teasing your skin with kisses and little nips of his teeth, making you gasp and moan and clench down around nothing while you worked your pussy against his bulge.

"My mouth not enough for you, honey?" he rumbled teasingly in your ear, his hands sliding down your sides. He grabbed your ass with his big hands, kneading your soft flesh while helping you rock against him, dragging more moans from you. "Do you need my cock?"

"Yes, yes, please," you begged in a whining voice. Your pulse was thrumming beneath your skin and throbbing in your clit. Your hands pressed into the mattress next to his head and you used your grip as leverage to grind down harder on his bulge, pressing your clit against the fabric of his boxers until you were a whimpering mess. "Need it, please!"

"What do you need?," he whispered roughly.

"Your cock."

"Say my name. Who's making you feel like this?" His voice was rough in your ear sending more shivers down your body and directly to your clit.

"Mathew. You, Mat. Please, I need you."

His hands on your ass moved quickly to lift you to your knees just high enough so he could wiggle out of his underwear.

"Condom?," you whispered quickly before anything further progressed. His head dropped back in agony before he cursed. "Fuck."

Your head dropped to his chest, spinning as you considered the sides of the argument. "Sorry, I didn't actually plan on anything happening anytime soon."

"It's okay," you whispered, then kissed your way up his neck to his lips. "It's ok, we don't need one. I'm clean and on the pill."

"Me too. You sure?," he asked breathlessly in between more intoxicating kisses. "We don't need to do anything tonight."

"No, please, Mathew," you begged, lowering your hips onto his cock, sliding up and down his length. "I need you, please."

"Fuck! I would never say no to you, honey." Mat's gaze darkened before your eyes, a sound rumbling deep in his chest almost like a possessive growl. Then he was diving forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss while his hands went back to your ass. He used his arm around your back to lower you down until the tip of his cock brushed against your dripping folds. "I'm gonna fuck your sweet pussy bare," he promised, bullying your clit with his tip until you were moaning and squirming on top of him. "I'm gonna fill you up with my come until it's dripping down your thighs."

Words escaped you, so you nodded your head, which felt light and fuzzy with how aroused you were. Your hands braced on Mat's shoulders and you stared deep into his eyes as he guided you to start sinking down on his cock. You gasped when you felt the head of his cock press inside your tight hole. You moaned when he was buried all the way inside of you, loving the feeling of his thick cock splitting you open, stretching out your little pussy. It was nearly overwhelming, just how much you had to stretch to accommodate him, but you enjoyed it too much to stop or protest. "So big," was all you could mumble, your lashes fluttering as you tried to keep holding his gaze through the feeling of his hardness stretching your inner walls.

Mat rumbled a pleased sound in his chest. "Ya like it, honey?" he asked, his lips curling in a devilish smirk that made you want to kiss his mouth hard. "Like feeling my big, fat cock splitting open your tight cunt?"

"Oh god, oh god," you mumbled, moaning while you slid down more of his length before lifting up and pressing down even further. "Feels so good—s'good, Mat," you muttered, still holding his gaze even as your eyes threatened to close from the overwhelming pleasure.

The moment felt too intimate to cut off the connection of your held gaze, so you stared into Mat's eyes as you worked yourself up and down his shaft, taking him impossibly deeper.

"F-fuck, oh fuck," Mat groaned, finally breaking eye contact to bury his face against your chest, like he was overwhelmed by the feeling of being buried inside you. His breath was hot against your breasts as he sucked in deep gulps of air, breathing in your scent while his hands gripped your hips so hard, you thought he might leave fingertip-shaped bruises on your hips—not that you minded. You shivered and clenched around his stiff cock, which only made him grunt in pleasure. "Feel so fucking good, honey," he rumbled, his voice muffled where it was pressed to your sternum. "So warm and tight and fucking perfect around my cock."

"Mhmm," you murmured, rocking your hips in small movements, feeling his cock drag against your sensitive inner walls. You were pressed so close together, you felt a shudder pass through Mat's body and continue through yours. It wasn't long before you were both writhing together, reveling in the feel of each other. "Feel so full—so full of your big cock, Mat," you said in a breathy whisper. You raked your nails through his hair, as he held you to your chest as your hips moved against his tiny thrusts.

"That's right, full of me," he mumbled possessively, nipping at your neck, moving back down to your breasts. He kissed your soft mounds while you rocked on top of him, his hands bringing you down harder and harder on his cock. Steve sucked on your nipple, lapping at the tight peak before giving the same attention to the other. "You feel better than I ever dreamed, honey," he rasped, looking up and catching your eye, depthless emotion filling his green eyes.

Shy heat filled your face and you smiled, warm pleasure curling through your limbs and pulsing insistently between your thighs. Your inner walls clenched down around Mat's cock, like your body was possessive of the feeling of him inside you and never wanted to let him go.

"I'm sorry," he whispered against your ear, pressing small wet kissed along your jaw. "Sorry I've been a bit of a jerk."

"So you admit it?" Your response sped up his thrusts to which you let out a surprised squeak which turned into a string of moans.

"Why don't you accept my apology for now and let me fuck you mindless like you deserve and we can talk about the rest later." His voice turned rough and possessive again, one you already loved as you pussy clamped down on his cock, so you nodded.

In a quick maneuver, Mat had turned the two of you around, lifting one of your legs. "Good girl."

He didn't give you a chance to react before he mercilessly started pounding into your sweet flesh. It was better than you ever could've imagined, the feeling of his hot, hard cock sinking into your tight cunt. His hips were smacking your thighs, his balls slapping against your ass with every thrust as he fucked you. You reveled in the feel of him, your arms and legs wrapped around him and dragging him deeper into the cradle of your body.

Mat's face hovered above you and you could see the way it was contorted with pleasure. The way he was fucking you—so possessively, you knew he was serious when he'd told you he had liked you all along. "Fuck," he choked out the whispered curse, pressing his forehead to yours. "Your pussy feels so fucking good gripping my cock."

You tilted your head up for a kiss, pressing your lips to his as you pulled him closer with your legs, rocking up against him. "More, please—need you, need more," you begged against his mouth, your breaths mingling until you didn't know where you ended and he began.

Giving you what you asked for, Mat pulled his hips back, dragging his cock along every sensitive inch of your cunt, before slamming back inside. His breathing was harsh in your ear as he let out stuttering moans, almost drowning out the sounds of his hips smacking against yours, his balls hitting your ass. "So good, so good, honey, so fucking good," he chanted against your check, his breath hot on your face.

Your face pressed into his neck, lips sucking on his skin until you knew you were going to leave marks, too far gone to care as your tongue darted out to taste him and soothe him. Your legs locked around his waist, your feet hooking behind his thighs so you could draw him deeper until he was fully seated in your cunt and he couldn't pull out more than an inch.

"Oh god, that's it. I'm so close," you mumbled as his thrust slowed but doubled in strength. Words escaped you, your lips forgetting how to do anything but kiss and moan and whimper and whine for Mat. Your head felt hazy, however not from the alcohol from earlier, but on Mat's cock and the dirty words pouring from his mouth.

"Yes, need you to come for me, honey. Need to feel you come on my cock," he muttered, picking up the pace of his slow grinding until he was rutting into you as much as your legs would let him. "Fuck, I can't stop, baby, 'm gonna come." He grunted and groaned, the sounds of his pleasure and his words filling the truck cab. "Come on my cock, baby," Mat rasped as he pounded his cock deep in your hole, grinding his pubic bone against your clit with every thrust, sending you careening toward the edge.

The desperation in Mat's voice and the way his cock pummeled a spot deep in your pussy that had your back arching into him, grinding your clit on him, pushed you over the edge. Your nails dug into his back, desperate to be anchored to him as it felt like you were free-falling through pleasure. Pressing your face into his neck, you muffled a scream, sobbing your release as your cunt rhythmically clamped down hard on his cock.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, that's it baby, that's a good girl," Mat praised, rutting into you harder, fucking you through your orgasm as he chased his own.

His fingers dug into your soft flesh so hard you were sure he'd leave bruises and that thought only sent more warmth curling through you, joining the aftershocks of your orgasm. "Please," you begged, your mouth finally remembering how to form words. "Come in me," you whined, squirming beneath him.

"Fuck—yes," he grunted, thrusting hard and pinning you down onto the mattress with his hips. "Take it, honey, take my come," he bit out through gritted teeth as you felt him start to come deep in your pussy. You moaned when you felt his cock twitch inside you, his come filling your warm hole. He panted, as he thrust a few more times, shallowly, until he was spent. Mat collapsed on top of you while you reveled in the feel of his come coating inside you. "So good for me, baby," he praised, turning his head enough to kiss your cheek.

Your arms and legs felt heavy and loose as your full body relaxed, drifting in the aftermath of a mind-blowing orgasm, feeling sated and happy. Running your fingers through Mat's hair, you hummed in happiness. Unable to stop yourself, you planted little kisses on his neck. He made a contented sound in his chest in response, his thumb sweeping over the back of your hand.

He still stayed buried deep inside you, brushing his lips over your face, your neck and collarbones. You enjoyed it, almost more than what you just did, breathing him in, staying in your fantasy just a little bit longer.

You suddenly snapped back to reality, realizing that while he had just been very sweat and caring, he did behave like a jerk these last few months. You pushed him off of you, pretending you didn't feel the extreme emptiness when his cock slipped out of you. "Get off me."

Mat laughed, sitting up on his elbows as he watched you scramble to find a shirt to cover up with. "Oh, come on, honey. Can't we enjoy this moment?"

"One phenomenal orgasm does just erase these last few months and prove that you actually never hated me," you explained in a snippy tone, blushing when you realized you admitted how good he'd made you feel.

"I'm pretty sure I made you come three times." You rolled your eyes, throwing his sweater at him before finally reaching your sweater and pulling it over your head. "Should I prove it to you again?"

Let's just say that that night and many other nights he continued to prove to you over and over again that he did in fact like you. Maybe even more than like.

[seneon]

♰ ARCH!VED VI ￤ VEIL OF DEATH, GROOM¡ULQUIORRA¡!

ABOUT. in which, the warmth leaves your skin as you are to be wedded to the dead. set in corpse bride¡ au. romantic fluff. wc of 1400.

NOTES. sigh i love corpse bride i love ulquiorra i i i

marriage is a scary thing, isn't it? especially when it comes to marrying a man whom you do not have any idea his soul existed. you only knew his name— a label that speaks for his entire existence.

you're in this wedding gown, all gorgeous and dolled up in sparkles and purity. all of these fanciness just to exchange a few words of a vow that would tie your souls together for eternity until one leaves the face of the earth to unite with death.

you'd rather die than to commit your life to a man you don't even know how he looks nor do you know what he sounds like. to make your feelings solid, you don't even feel a speck of emotion towards him. love does not exist in your vocabulary. at least, love for this unknown man.

to have an unknown man press his lips onto yours doesn't sound appealing at all. if anything, you'd rather stain your pure white dress a shade of pure blood red.

well, not like it matters anymore.

when the entire church disperses in a state of panic at the missing bride, you're so far away. far away from civilization, far from the church, far from all the people who are blood-related to you. far away from your marriage and your groom.

venturing into a forest that looks rather morbid and cold, you didn't spare a second thought to seek solace in this cold place where your dress is all tattered and torn in places. there's a log that fell on the ground, and you took your seat there to bury your face in your hands.

your feet are sore, it hurts. it burns all over the soles. the white heel you wore is so aggravatingly beautiful that it could strike you as a form of beauty is pain. running in them however, is another tale.

crystal tears flowed down your cheeks to stain your makeup, a perfect compliment to this melancholically morbid forest where colours don't seem to exist here. it's all silent tears and solemn sobbing of the broken hearted.

cold fingers then reached out to graze your warm and dampened cheeks, your gaze immediately held up high to lock themselves in emerald eyes.

“why are you crying?” the man asked, his voice monotonous as if he had lost all life in them. and his face… they were so pale that they almost seemed perfect and angelic.

there's streaks of green that fall down from the corner of his eyes to cascade down his cheeks. they were like unspoken tears that have dried up, and you wondered why it's imprinted on his face.

without ever getting lost in those beautiful emerald eyes, you sniffed once, then twice, before you replied to this unknown man. “i don't want to be wedded to him.”

him who, the man with pale skin does not want to know nor will he pry into your life. all he knows is that you are a living human with a beating heart. a soul who wandered into the land of the dead while still breathing the remaining oxygen from the land of the living.

but does he want to tell you what you have gotten yourself into? there's finally a bride in front of him. you're so beautiful too, one of a kind. ulquiorra cifer is just a groom who happens to inhale the land of the dead’s air the moment he met with death on his wedding day.

he's in the same situation as you, having a refusal to marry a woman he simply did not want to marry. thus the murder he had to face in the denial of his supposed marriage.

well, it doesn't matter. ulquiorra knelt and lifted the bottom of your wedding dress just a little bit so it revealed your feet. “it must hurt, running around in these things,” ulquiorra comments, voice still lacking any tone or life in them as his long and pale slender fingers move to take off your heels for you.

“i’ve been running in them,” you whispered and wiped your tears, watching as this mysterious man took off the other side of your heels. then, his cold fingers gently massaged the parts where it is brimming with a rosy soreness.

“does it feel better now?” he asked you after a few minutes into the working magic of his cold fingers. emerald eyes shifted to look into your eyes. you nodded, feeling an odd sense of comfort washing all over you from his simple little gesture of helping you out your heels.

this mysterious man stands up just to take a seat next to you after carefully setting your heels aside. no matter how lifeless and cold as a corpse he looks, you could still feel a hint of warmth that lingers around.

“are you sad?” you asked him as your eyes scanned all over his facial expression, unsure of what chaos hides behind that stoic façade. he shook his head in response. “i do not feel sadness. all i know of is emptiness.”

“how nice... i want to be empty as you,” you gently swung your sore feet back and forth on the steady log. “i don't want to feel sad anymore.”

ulquiorra follows your gaze as you reach towards the empty night sky. the moon wasn't as bright tonight. it seemed to reciprocate your melancholia and kissed the night as dark as it could get.

“you do not want to feel empty, woman. it is not a nice thing.”

“then it's not nice for you,” your gaze shifted to rest on him. “i’m y/n. i ran away from the man whose name i’m supposed to inherit later on.”

“ulquiorra cifer.”

“how did you find me out here anyways?” you asked ulquiorra who looked around the morbid forest. “i heard your cries and your pain. they tug at my soul to beg for a rescue. at least, that is what i think it is. i am a groom. a runaway, just like you are.”

your eyes widened at his revelation. to meet a groom in the middle of a forest during the dead of night on your wedding day really strikes you differently.

“can… can i ask why you ran away? i mean, if that's okay with you obviously. i don't mean to poke into your life.”

it was silent for a few moments, before the groom looked at his hands. his long, pale fingers that tried to grasp onto the last living aspect. all that effort and yet he still couldn't reach.

to tell you that he does not breathe nor does he live feels like a crime he'd be guilty of. though, he doesn't really quite understand what feeling guilty is like. he just knows it's a heavy feeling that weighs in one's heart from all the textbooks that he has read.

“i consumed poison and it took my life right before i said my vows,” his fingers curled into a fist before he rested them on his lap. “i refused to marry that bride, and it resulted in my death.”

“is that why your fingers are cold?”

ulquiorra nodded and you took his fingers to lace them with yours, wrapping your warm fingers around his ice cold ones. this caused the doomed groom to look up at you, invisible shock plastered all over his face.

“it's okay. i’ll provide warmth for you.”

his emerald gaze burned at the sight of your hands holding his. he could feel your warmth enveloping him where it seeped through your touch. it's such a foreign feeling… such a desirable feeling that he didn't know he has been craving for all this time in this colourless land.

a newfound feeling blossomed in him through the warmth that you gave him, and he tightened his grip on your hands.

if there was anyone that ulquiorra would marry, it would be you. it's not so soon that you'd remain alive and breathing here. it's only a moment of time where you would feel the comfort of this morbid air that would kiss your corpse a cold salutation.

until then, ulquiorra simply has to hold your hand and feel your warmth leaving him while he awaits your death. all just so he could finally put a ring on your finger to marry you.

©SENEON 2024 ♰ D!ED, D3AD, G0NE. DO NOT REPOST OR ALTER. OR ELSE THE BATS WILL COME FOR YOU.

[xvysarene]

𝕊𝕥𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕤 ℝ𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕖𝕗

Pairing: Zayne x Fem!Reader Words: ~3.3k Genre: Suggestive Notice: 3rd person POV, Mentions of alcohol, Slight OOC Zayne (not a teetotaler)

[ᝰ.ᐟ MASTERLIST]

“I know a healthier way to relieve stress, doctor.”

Alcohol-induced thoughts had rolled off her tongue effortlessly.

She had expected his towering build to abruptly rise and leave her right there, appalled by the provocative comment. A disgusted expression or an unexpected snort would be acceptable too.

Yet, when she finally dared to face him, those sharp eyes locking with hers was not something she expected. Overflowing intensity caused her skin to tingle.

“You shouldn’t offer what you can’t deliver, Ms. Y/N,” his lowered voice warned her, sending a chill down her spine on hearing the way he had addressed her so formally, just like when they were in the meeting room.

The room suddenly spun, but not from the alcohol. No, she only had two bottles of beer, just enough to loosen her tongue like this.

The response in her throat dried as she saw him sipping his whiskey sans ice, Adam apple’s bobbing as he swallowed the deep amber liquid after letting it linger in his mouth, taking in the smoky flavour.

“Well?” Perfectly arched brow challenged her.

Heart pounding rapidly in her chest, she took one last gulp from the barely touched third bottle to calm her nerves before subtly cocking her head to the bar’s exit.

It was one of the rare moments she had seen him smirk and not in response to a challenge in the medical field. 

The faint creaking from the bar stool was loud in her ears as he stood up, settling both of their bills with the bartender, and leaving a hefty tip. His surprisingly warm palm rested low on her hip as he guided her to his black sedan.

Mesmerizing city lights blurred. Her attention drawn solely to the sensation of his thumb slowly drawing circles on her thigh.

Next thing she knew, her back was pressed against the back of his front door, lips locked in a passionate battle filled with intense desire that made her knees buckle.

The strong thigh nestled between her heated core was the only thing stopping her from melting into a puddle on his floor. The friction, a welcome bliss, sending waves of pleasure coursing through her.

That was the beginning of the agreement, becoming a recurring occurrence whenever both of them needed to blow off steam from the stresses of demanding jobs. Him, saving lives, and her, dealing with difficult clients.

“Thank you for being my stress relief.”

His words cut through her second post-orgasm haze like ice water.

Somewhere along the line of what was supposed to be a no-strings-attached arrangement, small things like having a late-night snack together to deeper conversation during pillow talks grew to be a regular part of the deal.

Feelings for him had begun to bloom, much like the flowers outside with the arrival of warmer weather.

“Are you okay?” The sound of rustling sheets reminded her that she had been silent for too long while staring emptily at his ceiling.

“Yeah,” she simply replied.

Not satisfied with the answer, she felt Zayne’s fingertips lightly tracing above her collarbone, gently checking patches of skin that had turned reddish. They would undoubtedly be bruised by the next day.

“Was I too rough?”

Hands roamed greedily over her curves, warm lips on the sensitive dips and folds that he had become well acquainted with, growls of desire, and powerful thrusts flashed through her mind.

She tried to suppress the memories, though her body still hummed from the aftereffects. “No, just tired.”

He carefully took hold of her chin, noticing that she had been avoiding his gaze. "Y/N, you know you can talk to me, right?" his voice filled with concern. 

“I think that’s the problem.”

Zayne’s calculated hazel orbs bore into hers, searching for the meaning behind her words.

“I’m not sure if you notice, Zayne, but for a casual arrangement, things are starting to get complicated.”

It was his turn to drop his gaze. For someone as bright as him, it would be impossible for the situation to go over his head.

He too must have realised the way their dynamic had changed over time; they had spent more time together in and out of the bedroom. 

At times, they’d simply cuddle through the nights, providing a safe haven without the necessity for words.

She held her breath. There was no going back now. “It's starting to feel like more than just sex—it has been for some time.”

Retracted fingers sent a clear sign that he was about to take a step back, the gesture as clear as the darkness enveloping the night. The guarded mask was back once he met her gaze again.

“We both agreed that this was meant to be casual. I don't want either of us to end up getting hurt.”

It sounded like an automated response even to his ears. He grimaced.

Y/N's heart sank. Despite the obvious signal of his withdrawal, his words still pierced her heart. “I see,” she said quietly, distancing herself from him slightly.

Zayne could sense her disappointment and reached out to touch her arm. “Hey, Y/N, it's not that I don't care about you. I just…” his words faltered.

“I understand,” she said, forcing a smile. “I believe it might be best if we stop doing this then.”

He breathed out slowly. “Yeah, you may be right.”

A curt nod was directed at him. “I should probably get going anyway.”

“Don’t be silly, it’s past midnight,” Zayne immediately stood up, trying to stop her. She tried hard not to look down at his abs or any other part of his anatomy. “I’m not asking you to leave. You can take the bed and I’ll sleep on the couch if you want.”

“I just prefer to sleep on my own bed tonight, but thank you for the offer.”

He watched as she quickly slipped on her clothes and gathered her things. 

“Let me drop you off at least,” he pleaded.

“I'll take the 24-hour taxi on the corner of your street and send you my location,” she shut him down with the same assertive tone she used when closing deals.

As he closed the door behind her, a part of him wished she hadn't seen him at the bar that evening when he had let his heart rule over his brain.

“What is it?” Zayne took the pen out of his pocket and began to add his notes to the patient’s file.

When no response came from the direction of his office door, he exasperatedly looked up, about to shoot daggers at whoever was interrupting him.

Greyson, his assistant and regrettably a close friend out of work, stood in place, watching his every move.

“Less than fifteen minutes to the meeting; you were normally ready half an hour before that.”

The grip on the pen tightened as he concentrated back on jutting his notes down, making sure he didn’t miss any important details.

“I have some urgent things to attend to earlier.”

Greyson hmmed. “Yeah, things that you normally assign to the junior doctors so they can 'practice more' as you often phrase it."

Zayne knew that engaging with Greyson was futile since he would never win—a rarity, given that he would typically be the one in Greyson's shoes in any other situation.

“Let’s go, don’t want to be late for such an important meeting.”

As Greyson walked one step ahead of him, he did shoot daggers at the back of his friend's head all the way to the meeting room.

Nervous fingers, poised to adjust the tie, froze in place as he noticed Yvonne sent Greyson a knowing look once they entered the conference room before setting her eyes on him.

“Ah, Doctor Zayne and Doctor Greyson are here,” the hospital administrator greeted them from his seat.

He cleared his throat. “Apologies for running late.”

“Not at all, Doctor Zayne. You are, in fact, right on time,” Y/N said, acknowledging him after finishing setting up her laptop for the presentation.

"It's good to have you back, Ms. Y/N,” Greyson said as he took the seat across from him.

“Likewise, Doctor Greyson.”

“No offense to your colleague, but we were afraid we’d get a new account manager.”

The smile faltered slightly on her lips, clearly taken aback by his assistant’s nonsensical comment. “I had a business trip last time, which was why I had asked my colleague to step in for me.”

“We find that consulting with you is a more enjoyable process for us, as you're familiar with our requirements, isn’t that right, Doctor Zayne?"

Greyson’s sudden query left him unprepared. He sent his friend a quick warning glance before nodding, afraid that his carefully crafted pretense of nonchalance would slip away.

“Right, since everybody is here, should we start the meeting then?” the purchasing manager spoke when he finally put his phone down, not paying attention to the conversation as he was busy texting anyway. “Ms. Y/N, what new devices do you have for us?”

As Y/N started her presentation, Yvonne’s hushed words reached his ears, “Would you like some water, doctor?” The nurse’s hand appeared in his line of vision, handing him a bottle of water.

“Thank you,” he replied, making the mistake of looking into the nurse's eyes. Her perceptive gaze told him she knew how surprisingly affected he was by Y/N’s presence.

For once, he regretted instilling in those who work under him the importance of being observant of their surroundings.

Y/N’s fingers traced the rim of the glass, lost in the haunting cadence of the singer's voice. 

The lady poured her heart into each note. Each lyric dripped with the bittersweet of longing, a testament to love that lingered just beyond reach.

“Pretty uneventful for a celebratory night, don’t you think?” The bartender—Ethan, she had learned his name—approached her again once the end of the workweek crowd had slowly dispersed.

“Perhaps,” she replied, “but it allows me to rearrange my thoughts.”

She had found unexpected companionship with the bartender, who had recognised her from the night her loose tongue had led her into a difficult situation with Zayne.

Despite its prime location at Moonshadow Avenue, the jazz bar remained a hidden gem, often overlooked by the bustling crowds.

It was the perfect place to enjoy some time alone outside the confines of her home, feeling it a little too empty lately.

“People normally do that within the privacy of their home,” he responded knowingly. There was a kindness in his eyes, a silent reassurance that she wasn't alone in her solitude.

She sent him a small smile and savored the final drop of the ruby-hued liquid. A delicate hint of orange zest, weaving through the complex herbaceous notes, warmed her body.

Ethan took the empty glass. “And that, ma’am, is the last glass for tonight.”

When he saw her let out a playful huff despite the buzz that she was feeling, he offered a gentle warning, “Negronis can sneak up on you quicker than you think. Wouldn't want you making any bad decisions now, would we?”

“Alright, dad.” Y/N playfully rolled her eyes to his retreating figure, feeling grateful for his watchful care.

As the band moved on to another piece, she cast a look around the room. Couples were huddled together, allowing intimate conversations to blend with the somber tones of saxophones and pianos.

The warm, honeyed glow from antique lamps illuminated their faces, creating playful shadows dancing across their features. Every exchanged smile spoke volumes of love in a myriad of languages shared between them.

Feeling a churn inside her heart, she grabbed her purse, ready to call it a night.

“It’s on the house,” Ethan tutted after serving another patron.

“I had more than one glass tonight,” she warned and slid the card to him.

“If I ever undergo heart surgery at Akso—God forbid”—he knocked on the polished bar to ward off any bad luck—“I’ll make sure to thank you personally for the devices you sold to them.” With that, he slid the card back across the bar.

Y/N shook her head at his antics and handed him a generous trip instead. “Thank you, but just this once.”

“Anytime, milady,” he quipped, bowing dramatically. “Get home safely.”

She waved goodnight and stumbled a bit, the buzz from the drink intensifying as she rose from the stool. Ethan’s advice was spot on—any more drinks and she might have found herself spinning along with the room, tripping her way out the door.

The cool breeze of the spring night air hit her, a welcoming sensation that helped clear her head. Phone in hand, ready to order a ride, she thought she caught a whiff of a sterile smell, a scent that reminded her of the corridors at the hospital. 

Heart racing, she looked up at the sound of a familiar voice softly uttering her name.

“Y/N?” he called out again as she blinked at him.

It was Zayne, still clad in the white shirt and light beige cotton vest combo he had worn earlier in the day, looking like he just finished his shift.

Though he had rolled up his sleeves, allowing the world to get a sight of his strong forearms.

A faint sigh slipped from his lips as he extended a finger in front of her face, moving it from left to right, checking to see if her eyes focused on it.

“You’ve been drinking more than I thought.”

“What are you doing here?”  Y/N countered, not expecting to see him.

Those unmistakable hazel eyes peered down at her, before looking to the side, lost in contemplation. 

“I need to see you. Figured you might have frequented this bar again and I was right.”

Her mouth opened and closed, mind racing on how to respond to that.

The lively younger crowd suddenly shifted, eager to migrate to a happening spot as the night was still young to them, and she found herself jolted into his embrace.

Apologies from a younger girl fell on deaf ears as her focus was captured by the arms securely wrapping around her figure.

“Let me drive you home.”

It wasn’t a question. The same words he had uttered the night she left his house echoed in her mind.

City lights blurred into a colorful haze, much like the first time she sank into the plush leather seat of his car, though her thigh felt empty.

The hand that had rested on it previously was gripping the steering wheel tightly, trying to restrain itself. The silence between them was heavy, punctuated only by the soft hum of the engine.

“There’s something I need to talk to you about,” he finally broke the silence when her apartment came into view.

Zayne turned off the engine and turned to face her. “But seeing that you’ve had some drinks, it’s probably better if we do this when you’re completely sober.”

“Meet me upstairs,” the words came rushing out of her mouth, surprising him and her both.

He looked into her eyes deeply. “Are you sure?”

She nodded swiftly and opened the car door, stepping out before she could second-guess her decision.

Upstairs, weary feet paced back and forth, the sound of footsteps echoing softly in the quiet apartment. Fresh breeze swept through the opened windows, bringing clarity to her mind.

Soon, there was a soft knock on the door, and her heart raced faster. She was met with the sight of him who had shed his vest and tie. That sure wasn’t helping her nerves as he somehow looked even more dashing than before.

She could feel his heat as he passed her. Suddenly, her apartment felt small with Zayne standing there, his presence filling the room.

“You have been busy,” he remarked when he saw the pile of papers stacked on her coffee table.

“I’m just trying to do more work to take my mind off…” she trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

Of you.

“Of what?” Zayne prompted. “Is everything okay?” He genuinely looked concerned, softening her towards him even more, if possible.

“Just a lot in my mind lately,” she opted to say.

He hmmed understandingly and they resorted to another silence. Feeling parched, she took a swig of the chilled water from her fridge, aware that his gaze was tracking her every move.

“I saw you hurriedly walking down the hospital corridor a couple of months back,” he said quietly, “avoiding me as if I were contagious.”

And yet, she had done it again earlier in the morning. After successfully closing the deal with Akso, the businesswoman's confidence evaporated as their hands clasped in a shake.

The familiar hold of his hand ignited a surge of memories, memories where he had once gripped both of her wrists effortlessly, guiding her into moments of ecstasy.

It prompted her to hastily make an escape.

“I just...didn't know how to face you, and I didn’t want to make things more awkward between us.”

His hand caught her chin, lifting her head that had hung low from embarrassment. Her breath caught, only noticing how those broad shoulders were closer than before.

“I’ve missed you.”

Doubt stealthily crept into her. “You mean the sex?”

“That’s a totally different context,” he clarified quickly, "I care about you. More than I've ever cared about anyone else. And it drives me crazy knowing that I have hurt you.

“You were right, it hadn’t been just a casual arrangement for some time," he admitted, voice tinged with fragility that she had heard sneaking in within the safe space of their pillow talks. “I’m a coward who thought that completely baring my soul to someone will only end in heartache.”

“Well, I have a soft spot for this particular person who dares to bare his soul.” Her smile was gentle, though he didn’t miss the mischief twinkling in her eyes. “Did you finally admit that it was more than physical or is my mind playing tricks on me, Doctor Zayne?”

A small chuckle escaped his lips. “Judging on your playful quip even when I’m being serious and…” His thumb brushed against her jugular, feeling the rapid rise and fall of her pulse beneath his touch. “…seeing that you’re responding even to the slightest touch, it seems that you’re fully alert right now.”

Smouldering gaze pinned her down to the spot. Their heads tilted closer, drawn by an irresistible magnetic pull.

“Though, I never refuted that I didn’t miss the physical aspect, did I?”

A surge of heat rushed through that one spot south of her body. “So, Mr. Coward, what’s your next brave move going to be?” her words came out in a breathless whisper.

With a barely audible exhale, he grabbed her by the back of the neck. Mouths moved in a passionate dance of need, their kisses growing more desperate with each passing second.

As they fought for oxygen, he withdrew, forehead touching hers. “Are you sure this is something you want? Right after we talk about things between us are more than just sex?”

“Didn’t you confirm I’m ‘fully alert’ earlier?”

She tugged on his collar, drawing him closer until their bodies were flush against each other. The fabric of her pencil skirt felt constricting as his skilled surgeon fingers toyed along the waistband.

“Do you have work tomorrow?” she managed to gasp out in between her moans, tilting her head back, exposing the delicate curve of her neck to his wandering lips further.

“No,” he replied, voice thick with a feral need.

Puffs of hot breath danced across her skin, causing the hair on the back of her neck to stand proud. “Will you stay the night then?”

Full-blown dark irises locked onto hers, a sly curl exclusively reserved for her tugged at the corner of his lips

“I thought you’d never asked,” he breathed, before lightly nibbling on his favourite spot. The spot he knew would elicit the sweetest symphony from her lips.

Peppered purplish marks would for sure grace her neck for the next couple of days. And perhaps a few other places on her body too.

⤷ ᝰ.ᐟ MASTERLIST

[copperbadge]

Your latest bread success made me wonder if you've tried or had much luck making gluten free bread? I'm so tired of most commercially available options, they all seem to dissolve instantly. Awful for burgers or anything with sauce. I miss sourdough.

I'm afraid I haven't done much work with gluten-free baking; the problem is the gluten tax. As I'm sure you know, gluten-free anything, even just ingredients, are more expensive, and the process of baking is more labor intensive and time-consuming for a product that isn't the same. Even the best gluten-free bread, lacking gluten, is lacking one of the defining characteristics of the thing it's emulating.

Since I can eat gluten and am not regularly responsible for feeding anyone who can't, there's no real motivation to do it. I try to always have gluten-free options when I'm hosting, but that's usually stuff like crudite and dip, charcuterie, or fruit -- things that can also avoid other allergens, and depending on the item be eaten by vegetarians or vegans.

Now, all that said, I can recommend King Arthur's Cup For Cup GF flour for baking; it makes the process fairly smooth and the final product seems pretty sturdy, although admittedly the flour is about twice the price of their normal bread flour per pound. I haven't encountered Bob's Red Mill GF flour in a while, but partly that's because when we stopped using them they hadn't really reformulated in a few decades and their GF flour was pretty coarse, and sometimes made from beans my family members couldn't tolerate. They may have advanced since, this was like 10-15 years ago at least.

The King Arthur website has a variety of GF baking recipes as well as mixes and I do have some experience making their GF bagels, which are pretty good, although I think they're actually better if you halve the size (easier to manage, easier to store, since they really need to be kept cold, preferably frozen, and eaten warmed). I baked those regularly for a while for a colleague's kid who was allergic to wheat, and they weren't much more work than baking regular bagels, just required more delicate handling pre-bake.

I realize this is basic and you've probably tried it, but just in case, any GF product you're going to be saucing (as you say, like burgers), you might try griddling first -- little scrape of butter, toss it in a hot pan for a few minutes. In regular bread it helps to both create a flat barrier so the sauce doesn't sink into the bread, and it also dries it out a little so that it can take more moisture to begin with. This is theoretical though, I've never done it with GF buns. I do know that generally King Arthur recommends toasting GF products baked with its recipes.

Readers, feel free to chime in with recommendations! Remember to reply in comments or reblogs, as I don't post asks sent in response to other asks.