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theostrophywife · 10 months

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written in the stars.

pairing: theodore nott x reader. song inspiration: until i found you by stephen sanchez feat. em beihold. author's note: boyfriend theo is the best theo. if you're wondering, then yes writing this hurt me as much as it hurts reading it but like in the best way possible.

Theodore Nott has always had an affinity for the stars.

When he was younger, Theo's mother used to take him to the rooftop of Nott Manor and point out the constellations to him. The stars told stories, his mum had said. Theo listened with rapt attention as she recounted the tales of Aquila, Heracles, and Orion as they glittered against the backdrop of the English countryside.

The two of them would make an entire evening out of it. Laying on his back atop a nest of blankets and pillows, little Theo watched as the stars climbed higher and higher, filling the horizon with hope and light. Stargazing had been their special secret. The one thing that wasn’t tainted by his abusive father. Theo guarded the memory of those nights in his heart like a priceless treasure.

After his mother’s passing, Theo continued their tradition of stargazing. Even if she was no longer alive, all he had to do was look up at the sky to feel her with him. For that reason, the stars were special to him and he’d never shared its meaning with anyone.

Until tonight.

“Watch your step, cara mia.” Theo said as he guided you by the small of your back.

The dark cloth covering your eyes prohibited you from seeing, but you trusted your boyfriend to keep you from falling. Though you weren’t a fan of surprises, Theo was impossible to resist. All he had to do was flash those pretty watercolor eyes at you and you were an absolute goner.

For you, Theo had always been the exception.

He guided you up a staircase, keeping a firm grip on your waist as the two of you ascended. Wherever you were going, it was pretty high up. You smiled as Theo took hold of your waist, knowing that you weren't the biggest fan of heights. Sometimes it felt like he knew you better than you knew yourself. When you reached the top, Theo unfastened his tie from behind your head.

“You can open your eyes now, sweetheart.”

You blinked, letting your eyes adjust to the dark. The wind whistled through the stone arches of the Astronomy Tower, framing the starkissed night with its marble pillars. The soft glow of the moon illuminated the nest of blankets and pillows arranged in the middle of the wooden floor.

“Did you do all of this for me, babe?”

Theo smiled. “I thought you might like to go stargazing with me,” he said, his voice soft. “Do you like it, my love?”

“I love it, Teddy.” You beamed, standing on your tiptoes to kiss his nose. “But not nearly as much as I love you.”

Theo grinned before pulling you in for a proper kiss. His lips were soft against yours and he tasted like peppermint. Butterflies erupted in your stomach as your knees buckled slightly. Theo never failed to make you feel like a lovestruck school girl. It never stopped feeling like this despite how many times you kissed this boy.

As if reading your thoughts, Theo smiled against your lips. “Come on, Y/N. I want to show you my favorite constellations.”

The two of you laid down beneath the stars, making yourself comfortable amidst the blankets and pillows. Wordlessly, Theo pulled you into his arms and you nestled into the crook of his neck, breathing in the familiar scent of sea salt spray and sun kissed skin.

“Tell me the story of the stars, Teddy.”

He smiled, brushing your hair back. “That one right there is Ursa Major. Otherwise known as the Big Dipper, but if you look at the entire constellation, it actually forms a bear.”

“I remember learning about that when I was little,” you said, gazing up at the sky. “Didn’t it have something to do with Zeus?”

Theo nodded. “In Greek mythology, the Olympian God Zeus fell in love with Callisto and got her pregnant. After she gave birth to the child, Hera was so mad she turned Callisto into a bear.”

“That hardly seems fair,” you responded with a frown.

“Zeus was a bit of a wanker,” Theo said in agreement. “Hera was even worse. She cursed Callisto to wander the forest for years in bear form until she was hunted by her own son Arcas. Just as he raised his spear to strike her down, Zeus stepped in and sent them up to the heavens. Callisto as Ursa Major and Arcas as Bootes.”

“The Greek gods were truly a piece of work,” you replied. “But at least we got those constellations out of them."

You squinted, pointing at the cluster of stars hovering in the east. “What’s that one?”

“That’s the constellation of Leo,” explained Theo. “Named after the Nemean lion that Heracles defeated during the first of his twelve labours.”

“Didn’t he make a cloak out of the lion’s pelt?”

“Smart girl,” Theo said proudly. “The cloak made Heracles invincible and more fearsome than he already was. The Nemean lion’s heart is made up of the star Regulus, which is associated with the arrival of spring.”

“The Little King. I read that it burns hotter than the sun.”

Theo couldn’t help but smile. Before he met you, he never thought he’d find someone to share such a special and intimate thing with. He was worried that no one else would understand his love for the stars, but as he watched you peer curiously up at the sky, your nose scrunched in careful concentration, Theo felt all of his doubts fade away.

“Regulus is unique because it can be seen in both the Northern and Southern hemispheres.”

The blue star glittered brightly above your heads, as if it was showing off for the occasion. “It’s beautiful,” you breathed.

Theo stared at you, at the childlike wonder shimmering in your eyes, and he felt like the breath had been knocked out of his lungs. The gravity of what he felt for you hit him all at once.

“Yeah,” Theo said softly, still looking at you. “Beautiful.”

You grinned, intertwining your fingers and kissing his knuckles. “How do you know so much about the stars, Teddy?”

“My mum taught me.” Theo answered, drawing circles on your hip. “When I was little, she used to take me to the rooftop of the manor and tell me the story behind each star. She was fascinated by them. Before she met my father, she wanted to teach astronomy at the Stati Magia.”

“The Italian School of Witchcraft?”

Theo nodded. “My mother attended the Stati Magia, just like her mother and her mother before her. A tradition that I unintentionally broke, as nonna Lucia loves to remind me. Sometimes I think the old bat wishes that I was born a strega instead.”

You giggled. “You would’ve been a very pretty witch.” Theo chuckled as you propped your head up in one hand. “Did your mum end up becoming a professor?”

“No,” Theo said sadly. “After I was born, my father said that her place was at the manor. He refused to move to Florence, even though he knew it was my mother’s dream.”

You stroked his hair, nodding emphatically. Theo rarely talked about his mother. You knew that her passing was a painful subject for him, so you never pushed him to talk about it unless he wanted to.

“That’s awful. I’m so sorry, my love,” you said. “But at least she was able to pass down her love of the stars to you. In a way, she lived her dream by teaching you.”

A soft smile tugged at your boyfriend’s lips. “I suppose she did.”

You laid back down, but this time you cradled Theo against you. He rested his head against your chest, listening to the calming sound of your heartbeat. Talking about his mother will always be hard, but you helped ease the pain.

“What about those stars?” You asked, pointing to the north. “What did your mother tell you about them?”

“Perseus and Andromeda,” Theo answered. “Those are actually her favorites.”

“The chained maiden.”

Theo stirred, inclining his gaze to the horizon. “Andromeda was the Princess of Aethiopia, the daughter of King Cepheus and Queen Cassiopeia. She was said to be very beautiful. Her mother bragged that Andromeda was fairer than the Nereids, which angered Poseidon. As punishment, the Sea God sent the creature Cetus to ravage that coast of their kingdom.”

You nodded, recalling the story. “King Cepheus chained her to a rock and offered her as a sacrifice to appease the sea monster.”

“Luckily for Andromeda, the hero Perseus found her before Cetus could attack again. Perseus fell in love with Andromeda and defeated the monster so he could free the princess. They ended up marrying and became king and queen of Mycenae. When they died, the goddess Athena placed them side by side in the heavens so that they would never be parted, not even by death.”

“A love written in the stars,” you said with awe and wonder. “I can see why it’s your mother’s favorite.”

“When I was a boy, she told me that she hoped I’d experience a love like theirs, minus the sea monster of course.” You chuckled. Theo knit his brows together like he did when he was deep in thought. When he spoke again, his voice was barely audible. “It’s sad to think that she never found her Perseus.”

You brushed his hair back, running your fingers through his curls gently. “She might not have found her Perseus, but she did have her Theo.”

Theo turned over and looked at you. The intensity in his gaze made you shiver. He was so ingrained in your heart that it felt inaccurate to continue calling it yours.

“After she died, I never thought I’d share her stories with anyone again, but I’m glad I shared them with you.”

“Thank you for trusting me, Theo.” You said as you placed a kiss on his temple. “It means the world to me that you not only shared your mother’s stories, but her memory as well. I would’ve loved to meet her.”

The tender smile on Theo’s face was heartbreaking. Then softly, he whispered. “She would’ve loved you, Y/N.”

Your heart cracked open, his words spilling like sunlight over every crevice, warming you from the inside out.

Tears formed at the corners of your eyes, but you forced yourself to give Theo a watery smile. “Because I’m a nerd who memorized obscure mythological facts?”

Your boyfriend smiled. “No,” he said gently, caressing your cheek. “Because you made her wish come true. You are my love written in the stars, cara mia.”

The moonlight kissed Theo’s tan skin, the silver beams caressing his face like a lover as if the moon and the stars craved to commit his beauty to memory as badly as you did. Gods, he was breathtaking.

This was the Teddy you knew and loved. Your Teddy.

Those watercolor eyes shimmered with emotion. “Sometimes I think the gods made you just for me, like our souls are linked in a way that neither logic nor magic can explain. Whatever it is, I think I’ve loved you since before the heavens and the earth existed and I’m fairly certain that I’d still love you even after the last star falls out of the sky.”

“You’re the love of my life, Theodore Nott.” Tears streamed down your cheeks as this boy—this beautiful boy ensnared your mind, body, and soul. “I’d find you in any universe and in any galaxy. Maybe someday we’ll be immortalized in the stars too.”

Theo held your face in his hands. His expression was open and vulnerable, like he wasn’t afraid to lay himself bare before you. As if it was the most natural thing in the world.

“We’re two halves of a whole,” Theo said. “I loved you yesterday. I love you today and I’ll love you tomorrow. You’re it for me, Y/N. You and no one else.”

“You and no one else, Teddy.”

Under the constellations of the star crossed lovers, Theo kissed you so gently that it made your heart ache. As Andromeda and Perseus kept watch over the horizon, Theodore Nott knew one thing for certain.

Someday the stars would tell your story too.

#theodore nott #theo nott #theo nott fic #theodore nott fic #theo nott smut #theo nott fluff #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x y/n #theo nott x you #theo nott imagine #draco malfoy #enzo berkshire #mattheo riddle #blaize zabini

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sansaorgana · 2 months

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— QUICK LEARNERS

PAIRING — Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!Reader

SUMMARY — You're sent to Giedi Prime to marry your distant cousin and become the new Na-Baroness. However, your new husband seems to ignore you. You come up with an idea how to gain his attention and you ask one of the Generals from your homeworld to teach you how to wield a blade.

REQUEST — (1)

AUTHOR’S NOTE — While writing my fanfic "Forbidden Fruit" I was inspired by the mediterranean and islamic cultures creating the Reader's homeworld. This time I was inspired by my own Slavic culture but as usual – the physical appearance of the Reader is not described. 💘 I really like coming up with all these new planets! Also, I decided it makes sense for the world inspired by the Slavic culture to be related to The Harkonnens, therefore Feyd and Reader are cousins but they're distantly related (as most noble people are, I guess).

WARNINGS — arranged marriage, blood – the Reader is injured, slight incest (distant cousins), SMUT, oral, hints of breeding kink, Feyd is a bit ooc in my opinion but... so what? he's cute 🤪

WORD COUNT — 7,840

🔞 THIS FIC IS 18+ 🔞

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

QUICK LEARNERS

Your father, The Tsar, worked very hard to make this union happen. Baron Harkonnen had wanted his heir and nephew to marry one of The Emperor’s daughters but your father’s relentless visits, letters and arguments finally worked.

Your family was cousins with The Harkonnen bloodline. You were more used to their culture and you shared similar values. Of course your house was not as important as The Harkonnens. In fact, your planet was under The Harkonnen rule and your father only governed it in their name although his family had been allowed to keep their titles.

Giedi Prime was an industrial planet without any nature which was the opposite of your homeworld. Morana was mostly dark green – a never ending forest full of valuable resources. Sadly, most of them were being transported to Giedi Prime for nearly nothing in return. Your father was determined for The Baron to make it up to your people for all the centuries of colonisation and turn their Grand Duchess into The Harkonnen Baroness.

Your home world was supplying Giedi Prime with important raw materials and fearsome warriors that were known all over the galaxy as ruthless beasts in combat. Growing up in such an environment, you would easily adapt to Giedi Prime even though it lacked the greenery completely. You would make a much better Baroness than any spoiled daughter of The Emperor. Those were your father’s arguments at least.

So, you were sent to Giedi Prime with dozens of heavy wooden chests filled with your most precious belongings. Everything you loved, everything that was defining you – it had to fit in these boxes. You couldn’t take the forests with you nor the rivers, the songs of your people, the smile of your mother, the warmth of the fireplace. All you could take were the dresses and jewels, a few books. And a burden of the realisation how big responsibility had been placed upon your shoulders. To make your parents proud and to become a good na-baroness… and then Baroness. To give heirs.

You knew Feyd-Rautha from all the official ceremonies. You had never talked to him before, he would only greet you with a head nod and a word cousin in his low, raspy voice that was sending shivers of discomfort down your spine. A few times before you had watched him fight in the arena. He was an incredible warrior but his combats were for show which was disappointing for a woman from Morana – a planet known for its art of warfare.

You weren’t scared of him and you weren’t taken aback by his Harkonnen nature nor looks. You were used to The Harkonnens visiting your planet or you visiting theirs with your parents for official events and celebrations. However, you were not pleased with this union either. He didn’t seem to be a pleasant man and you didn’t like the responsibility that came with this marriage.

Your wedding was grand. Every governor and leader of the planet under The Harkonnen rule was invited. Your dress was white, decorated with traditional red embroidery of your people. On your head there was a flower crown made out of flowers that grew on Morana. But seeing all the people around you, you quickly realised it probably was the last time you’d wear something white. No one around was wearing any colour except for black. The only white clothes you could see were the ones of the servants.

The wedding party was a display of power and violence but it wouldn’t make a girl from your planet flinch. You focused on the cake and tried to remember all the advice your mother had given to you regarding your upcoming wedding night.

She had been straightforward with you. A strong Tsarina like her would never hesitate or shy away. She had told you it would be best if you took your husband from behind so you wouldn’t have to look into his face. And she had made it clear that the marriage should be consummated. No matter how much it would hurt.

You observed your new husband with the corner of your eye but he looked the same as his wedding kiss had felt – bored and unimpressed. Cold.

Around midnight he stood up to leave the table without making any announcements. Panicked, you glanced at your new servant girls and they nodded at you. So, you stood up as well and gathered the fabric of your dress to lift it gently and follow him down the corridor.

He walked fast, you could barely catch up. His silence was heavy between you two. After all, you were his wife now – you were supposed to share a life together – but he chose to treat you like air instead.

When the doors leading to his chambers opened, you entered them right after your new husband. That was when he turned around as if he was surprised. He looked you up and down with contempt and you realised that he had not been pleased with this union.

Perhaps because you were not The Emperor’s daughter. Perhaps he wasn’t finding you attractive enough.

“Cousin,” he drawled as usual.

“Can you not call me that anymore?” You sighed.

“Wife,” you swore there was a shadow of a smirk on his face. But he didn’t say anything else and you felt helpless. You didn’t know how to talk to him.

You tried to remember your mother’s words. You weren’t there to have conversations with him.

“Husband,” you nodded your head at him and he watched with tilted head as you approached his huge black bed and bent over.

“What are you doing?” He snorted at you.

You couldn’t understand. You furrowed your brows and turned your head around. His sneering facial expression embarrassed you but you stayed in your position.

“Would you rather take me the other way around? I didn’t expect you to be a romantic,” you commented.

“I do not intend to take you at all,” Feyd shook his head. “I’m going to sleep. You do whatever,” he shrugged his arms and began to undress.

Clumsily, you straightened yourself and smoothed out the wrinkles of your dress. Once he was in his underwear, without a word he got under the cover and ignored you completely.

You watched in shock as he began to drift off to the land of dreams. You had no idea what to do. Not only you had humiliated yourself but also you had failed to consummate the marriage.

You crouched down and picked up all the pieces of clothing he had scattered all over the floor. Like a dutiful wife already, you folded them neatly and put them away on the chair by his desk. Then you removed the flower crown and your dress, thanking all the gods above that it was not a complicated piece because you had no idea how you’d manage to do that without your servants’ help. You tried to be as quiet as possible while doing that, not wanting to wake Feyd up and cause his anger.

Once you were in your linen underdress, you decided to just join him in the huge bed and go to sleep as well. You were laying as far away from him as possible as you didn’t want to bother him. It was no easy task because he decided to sleep right in the middle of it like he had forgotten already that he was married now and had to share.

You didn’t understand the situation you had found yourself in. When the small orb of light by your bedside turned off, you stared at the pitch black room as all your limbs tensed. You could hear Feyd’s soft snores and the distant sounds of your wedding party, the firework splashes of white ink in the night sky. Yet, you – the bride and the new na-baroness – just laid on the edge of the bed, feeling lonely and humiliated.

The weeks passed and you remained Feyd’s wife by name only. You shared your chambers with him but he was always awake before you and in the evening you were often asleep by the time he would join you in bed. There were days when you weren’t seeing each other at all. He was busy with training for his fights but also with fucking his concubines. You had found out about all of them from your servant girls.

The most important ones were three scary cannibalistic harpies. The servants were terrified of them because they could end up as their meal any time. There were also other women in your husband’s life but they were regular pleasure slaves and they did not matter as much. With his harpies he seemed to share some sort of bond.

Of course. Now it made sense. How could you even compare to such creatures? However, you did not even want to. You just hoped Feyd would finally be reminded – by his uncle or the medic – that he had to fulfil his duties and produce an heir.

You felt lonely and rejected. Your duties were not many and you quickly realised that most of them were nothing but a show off – just like your husband’s fights in the arena. It was probably because you were a woman and a new addition to the family. The Baron would never actually put you in charge of anything important.

Your only companions were your servant girls. You grew attached to them but they were no friends. Not because you thought of them as less but because of their timid personality. They were terrified of The Harkonnens and they were often trembling whenever they spotted your annoyance. Such a dynamic could not be a base of any real valuable friendship although your heart was breaking for them.

They had told you that the people of Giedi Prime liked you. You were not like your husband nor his family and you looked different because of the pigment of your skin and your hair. Sometimes, to your new black Harkonnen attire you would add a jewellery or a flower crown from your homeworld. The citizens of Giedi Prime adored the additional splash of colour. You expected Feyd-Rautha to scold you for that but he did not. He seemed not to care at all about you and what you were doing.

You had tried everything to get his attention and to seduce him. You had started to wear more revealing nightgowns to bed but he would ignore you. You had walked in on him taking a bath on purpose – pretending it was an accident. He hadn’t even flinched.

You had been asking him things about Giedi Prime and The Harkonnen history – making a fool of yourself by asking him things you had known already. He would always answer dryly and coldly; often without even sparing you a glance. Then he would go on ignoring you.

You had tried to move closer to him in bed at night. Pretending to be asleep, you had adjusted your body slowly until your arms touched. He had woken up abruptly and moved aside, stealing the blanket.

You nearly gave up but there was one more idea you were thinking of. You wanted to share a hobby with your husband. It could not be sex because he refused to touch you, which made you feel so unattractive that you didn’t even think of flirting with other men to cause his jealousy. His coldness made you feel ugly.

No, his other hobby was the blade. And you sometimes observed his training and they always made you miss your home. On Morana the warriors would train day and night just like him. You had often observed them with your father as he was telling you grand stories. And perhaps you were a lady, but you were your people’s Grand Duchess and you could handle the blade. Or so you had thought.

You found one of the generals of The Harkonnen army who was from your homeworld. He looked different than the rest of them because of his longer, braided hair and tattoos on his face that were your people’s spiritual symbols. However, like most of the important military men from your homeworld, he had been sent to Giedi Prime as a young boy to be trained under The Harkonnens. Such boys were some sort of a tribute in the same way your natural resources were. All those years spent under the black sun had made his natural skin colour a few tones paler. But amongst The Harkonnens he still looked the healthiest.

“General Bohumil,” you approached him one day after watching him train with other soldiers. He was putting his blades away as he raised an eyebrow at you, surprised to see you wandering around this part of the fortress.

“Slava, Grand Duchess (Y/L/N), My Lady Na-Baroness Harkonnen,” he bowed down. You smiled at the way he addressed you as it brought back memories of your homeworld where you were addressed as The Grand Duchess and with the word slava meaning glory as a sign of respect. “What brings you here, My Lady?” He asked.

“I was wondering if you’d find some time for me,” you began, a little nervously as he furrowed his brows. “To train me.”

“Train you, na-baroness?” General Bohumil hesitated. He was looking for the right words not to insult you in any way. “What does your husband think of such an idea, my Lady?”

“I don’t think he cares about what I do at all,” you admitted honestly with a shrug of your arms.

He would never say that but you could see the look in his eyes. You were a spoiled and bored noble lady in his eyes and he’d only waste his precious time on you. However, he was too scared to say no. Your question was not a proposition, it was an order. That was the way of The Harkonnens and that was the way your father ruled on Morana, too.

“Alright, my Lady. I can show you the basics,” he nodded. “We can start tomorrow. But I warn you, you can bruise or hurt yourself,” he added.

“I am aware. Those are natural consequences of a combat, General,” you smiled at him. “I will find you tomorrow,” you nodded and went back to your quarters, very pleased with yourself.

The first week of your trainings – and you had insisted on them to take place every day – General Bohumil was only making you stretch and prepare your muscles for the future extortion. No whining about it could cause him to change his mind. But after the first week you were finally given a blade to hold. It was quite short and light but very swift to move. The handle was wooden with your people’s spiritual symbols engraved on it. It was a traditional blade of the warriors from Morana and it made you feel so proud to be your father’s daughter to wield it. It made you feel as if you were home again.

You were also given a shield-like device that would protect you from hurting yourself or from the General hurting you in an accident. You noticed that he wore one, too, probably expecting you to clumsily wave the blade around and possibly cause some harm with it.

“Repeat the sentences after me, my Lady,” General Bohumil began to show you the most basic moves. You nearly rolled your eyes at how easy they seemed to be but you wanted to be an obedient student and to prove to him that you were not just a bored noble lady. You really wanted to learn.

He corrected your posture and the position of your feet as he lifted your elbow and then he began to show you the same sequence again.

You had many traits that were considered to be positive – it could be seen now, in the way you obediently performed your duties, how you desperately tried to make your marriage work and keep both of the families proud. You cared about your family’s honour, you were aware of the responsibility placed upon you. You would never sabotage your union; you were loyal and proud.

But you also possessed some traits that were considered to be negative – impatience was one of them. You didn’t want to keep repeating the same basic sequence a million times all over again, feeling like a child with a toy sword. You wanted to feel the adrenaline already like your husband when you watched him in combat or the warriors on your planet. Not listening to General Bohumil’s warnings, you started to spice up the sequence with the moves you had only seen in the gladiator arena before.

“My Lady, please, that is too advanced. We will get to it in the right time,” he sighed, trying his best to contain his anger. As a military man he was all about discipline and if you were a common soldier, he would lash out at you, you were sure of that. But you were his Grand Duchess and his Na-Baroness and he couldn’t even scold you. He could only calmly try to explain.

But you wouldn’t impress Feyd with the basic combat moves. You were sure that if he caught you now, he would laugh with contempt. No, you had to be better than that. And you hated to wait.

“This stupid shield,” you turned the device off as General’s eyes widened, “it’s distorting my view,” you whined.

“My Lady, please, turn it back on,” he pleaded. “Your eyes will get used to it after a few weeks of training, I can assure you of that.”

“A few weeks?!” You sneered. “When you talk to me using such long amounts of time, I get discouraged already. You think I’m not good enough to master this art faster than that?”

“It’s not about your personal skills, na-baroness, I assure you. Every man needs time to get better,” he swallowed thickly as he watched you play with the knife in your hand. “Please, turn the shield back on.”

Like a spoiled child, encouraged by the fact that your little hand tricks with the knife came easy to you, you took a step ahead and attacked him. In one swift movement he defended himself as he crossed his knife with yours but you could feel he was not using his full force.

You tried one of the tricks you had seen while observing the fights and you tried to quickly take a step back and attack him once again but straight into his ribcage this time. However, you were not experienced enough to try such a move and the knife clumsily slid through your hand. You hissed out of pain as it sliced through the leather fabric of your pants and through the tender flesh of your thigh.

The General’s eyes widened as he turned his shield device off and approached you quickly. You were in so much pain, you were gritting your teeth but you refused to let out a scream or to sit down. You didn’t want him to see you like this although the tears were already pricking your eyes and you could feel the warm liquid dripping down your leg.

“Na-Baroness!” There was a worry in his voice but he used a scolding tone, not being able to hold himself back anymore.

“Don’t even mention it. I know,” you drawled through gritted teeth. “It’s my fault, I know.”

He nodded his head, relieved that you were not blaming your injury on him.

“You’re hurt, my Lady. Let me escort you to the medical wing,” he insisted.

“No, thank you. I will go there myself,” you told him. “I will be back when it’s healed,” you added and limped out of the door as quickly as your pain allowed you, too.

You wanted to be alone so you could finally start crying out of pain, although you made sure to do it quietly. You were thankful that the medical wing was close to the training section of the fortress for strategic reasons.

Your servant girls had picked you up from the medical wing. They had been looking at you as if you were crazy but they hadn’t dared to say a word. Your thigh was now disinfected and bandaged and your servants helped you to change into a nightgown as they recommended you to go to bed earlier than usual and get rest. They left you alone in your chamber and assured that they would be nearby if you needed them.

But you weren’t sleepy. You felt ashamed and humiliated as you kept overthinking your stupid behaviour. You knew one thing only – you didn’t want Feyd-Rautha to find out about this accident. He would think of you as weak and foolish… and he wouldn’t be wrong.

You were laying on the bed and reading a book, making sure that your leg was covered by both your nightgown and the duvet. When Feyd entered the bedroom – earlier than usual – you started to suspect he had found out about your accident and wanted to see with his own eyes. You pretended not to pay any attention to him but you watched him from the corner of your eye as you struggled to focus on the book. He sat by his desk and sighed while reading some letters that had been placed there in the morning and you realised it was his time to perform his na-baron duties as he was supposed to deal with the paperwork. He hated this.

Knowing that he was already angry at the fact that he had to answer the letters, you were trying not to bother him at all and you controlled your own breath so it wouldn’t be too loud. On the other hand, you had to admit that Feyd-Rautha had never aimed his anger at you… so far. You had known about his nature before and although you were not scared of him, you had expected him to get violent at times. That had never happened, though.

Sometimes you wished it had. Because at least he’d react anyway to your presence instead of treating you like air.

Deep in your thoughts, you lost your focus and dropped your book with a loud thump sound on the floor. You froze and glanced at your husband’s shoulders. He stiffened and you quickly leaned in to grab the book, forgetting completely about your new injury as the duvet and your nightgown pulled up and revealed your bandage.

Once you straightened your back with the book in your hand, you noticed the exposed thigh and quickly covered it, hoping that Feyd had not seen it. You looked up and your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him staring at you intensely.

“What is it?” He asked with squinted eyes.

He talked to you so rarely that you nearly startled at the harsh and unpleasant sound of his raspy voice. You wondered if you’d ever get used to it.

“This? A book, dear husband. Something about the politics,” you chuckled nervously as you waved your hand, playing a fool.

Feyd stood up and approached the bed as you watched with terror in your eyes. He aggressively tossed the duvet aside and your skin got covered with goosebumps. He lifted up the hem of your nightgown and you hated to admit how electrifying his fingertips felt on your thigh. He had never touched you like that before.

“Who hurt you?” He asked after seeing the bandage again. His cold eyes stared into yours with a burning gaze.

“What do you care?” You asked and shrugged your arms. “It’s nothing,” you assured. “An accident.”

“I care,” he assured you but without any delicacy. “As your husband I am responsible for taking care of you and your honour,” he pointed out. “And as my wife you are my property. Whoever raises their hand on you, raises their hand on me and the Baronship,” he added.

“I did it to myself,” you bit on your lower lip and he tilted his head, visibly in disbelief. “If you paid more attention to me, you’d find out more things about me and you’d know by now that I tend to be clumsy sometimes,” you hissed at him and tried to cover your thigh again but he kept his hand there.

“I do pay attention to you,” he stated. “I observe you. I know when you’re lying,” he clenched his jaw. “Why are you defending the person who hurt you?”

“I’m not lying,” you protested.

“But you’re hiding something from me,” Feyd was relentless.

“Then we are only fair,” you put the book down as you looked at him angrily. “Your whole life is a secret kept away from me. Can’t I have mine?”

“Women on Giedi Prime do not have the same freedom as women on your planet do,” your husband reminded you. “A wife belongs to her husband in a way he will never belong to her.”

“What a relief then that I am not your wife,” you raised an eyebrow and he pursed his lips as he gave you a questioning look. “Because you have not consummated the union and refused so far to perform your duty and secure our bloodline.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Feyd snorted and looked away. “Stupid woman.”

“I do realise I am a disappointment to you. I am not one of the Imperial Princesses and I am not as interesting as your concubines. Not important enough, not attractive enough,” you decided to finally take your chance and tell him everything you had been feeling lately since it was the first opportunity to have some sort of conversation with your husband. He still refused to lay his eyes on you again. “I feel lonely, abandoned and rejected. Homesick. I want to be a good wife. I want to be a good na-baroness. But you’re not even giving me a chance. Out of boredom, I asked one of the generals to teach me how to fight and I hurt myself during training. Yes, it was pathetic of me. Go on, laugh. Make fun of me,” you encouraged him ironically. “At least it will be the very first reaction from you given to me in a long time.”

“Stop it! Stop,” Feyd-Rautha barked at you as he stood up and turned his back on you. He clutched his hands on the chair by his desk.

“Does the sound of my voice repulse you, too?” You asked, angrily. Now, when you finally let all these things out, you didn’t want to stop.

“You don’t understand!” He exclaimed and turned around to look at you with so much intensity that you curled up on the bed, feeling small and vulnerable. After all, he was a strong warrior and you were only a wounded prey. Like one of the rabbits in the forests on Morana, hunted by the hound dogs.

“Then explain it to me,” you whispered. “You owe me that at least.”

“I hurt everything I touch,” Feyd’s confession was sudden and it shocked you both. After a long while of silence between you two, he continued. “Just like him. It’s what this whole family is like.”

“I thought you liked to hurt,” you pointed out.

“Not you,” he answered nearly inaudibly. It was difficult for him to confess those things. You blinked a few times in disbelief.

“Why not me?” You asked, carefully.

“You’re supposed to be my wife. But I… I don’t know how to be a husband,” he looked at you again. You could swear that his sickly pale cheeks flushed slightly. “I was never… taught,” he explained.

“I didn’t expect you to be,” you admitted. “I knew life with you would be difficult. I knew you enough to know that. But nothing could prepare me for being… ignored. Completely,” you made your own confession as your heart pounded in your chest. You moved closer to him and reached your hands out, taking his gently and he didn’t even flinch. He just allowed it to happen, so you squeezed his cold fingers. “I am sorry I am not the wife you wanted.”

“It is not about that,” Feyd looked into your eyes. “And I do not ignore you. I let you be here. Sleep in my bed.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that was already a sign of affection,” you rolled your eyes.

“Protection,” he fixed you. “I don’t trust anyone here. They all work for my uncle,” he lowered his voice. “And as my wife, you are under my protection. If you want to learn how to fight,” he sighed and let go of your hands to sit on the edge of the bed again and reveal your bandaged thigh, “although I do not approve of that, from now on, it will be me training you. Do you understand? I don’t want any other man to teach you. I would never let this happen,” his fingertips brushed on your bandage and you felt a shiver go down your spine.

“I understand,” you nodded, trying not to smile too widely. Not exactly how you had imagined it but your plan to get your husband’s attention seemed to be working.

Feyd looked at your face again as his hand caressed your hair and cheek. You got startled at that at first but then you relaxed under his touch.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you. I don’t know how to act around… a wife,” he admitted. “All I know is that she should not be treated like a common concubine.”

“So that is why you prefer to be around them. Because at least you know what to do,” you pointed out and he nodded. “You could have told me that.”

He laughed at your words, grinning with that black smile of his. It made you chuckle, too, as you realised how stupid your words were.

“That’s right. The Harkonnens don’t talk about their feelings,” you guessed.

“Our what?” Feyd squinted his eyes at you as his face became serious again. “I don’t know anything about the arrangement between your father and my uncle. But the way you acted on our first night together, it made me realise you are not here by your own will. It brings me pleasure when my concubines fear me but I do not wish for my wife to be scared.”

“I’m not scared of you, Feyd-Rautha,” you assured him. “I have never been.”

He looked a little surprised by your confession.

“You admired me then,” he seemed to be proud of himself.

“I wouldn’t put it that way,” you cooled down his enthusiasm. “You annoyed me,” you explained and he gave you a scolding look. However, he was more disappointed than angry. “You’re a spoiled Harkonnen brat.”

“Look who’s talking. Like you’re not a spoiled little noble lady who decided she wants to learn how to wield a knife out of boredom,” he pointed out.

“I know, I do not deny. Perhaps we are not a bad match at all,” you giggled and his eyes sparkled again. “I’m not used to warriors cheating in the arena, you know.”

“He says it is not the time yet to show my real abilities,” Feyd explained himself quickly, a little embarrassed that you pointed out his cheating. Honour was important to him and it was his weak spot.

“In the bedroom as well?” You raised an eyebrow, surprising your own self with your boldness. “Perhaps you have not been taught about being a husband but you surely know what your main duty is.”

“You’re eager,” he smirked.

“I am not a concubine but I am a woman like they are. I have my own needs and desires. You do not make it easy, ignoring me after coming to bed late at night, smelling like fresh sweat, blood and leather,” you pointed out.

“I fuck like I fight,” he warned you as his pupils darkened. His face was now so close to yours that you felt his hot breath on your mouth and his eyelashes tickled your cheeks.

“Is that a promise?” You whispered.

“You have no idea what you’re asking for,” he snorted at you and you felt your cheeks heating up.

“You’re right. You have to show me,” you teased.

“No,” he moved back suddenly and you felt a sharp pain in your heart. He was so close… you nearly had him. “I don’t trust myself around you,” he admitted. “You will show me,” he told you as you raised your eyebrow.

“Me?” You swallowed thickly as his words.

“I’m yours,” he said. “Do whatever you wish with me. If a child is what you so badly want, to make your parents happy, to make my uncle happy,” he explained with a hint of sarcasm in his voice, “then go on, explore, have fun. At your own pace.”

Your heart skipped a beat in your chest as you realised that he was inviting you to initiate an intimacy between you two. You panicked as you had never expected that he’d want you to take a lead in the bedroom.

“I do not want to have a child to make anyone happy,” you fixed him. “Anyone but me. I want to secure our position on Giedi Prime,” you explained.

“So dutiful,” Feyd smirked.

“We share some values, dear husband,” you nodded and moved closer to him with a soft hiss as your injury reminded you of its presence.

“Easy, wife,” he watched you and you smirked as you put your arms around his neck.

“Are you sure you’re not doing it because you’re avoiding the paperwork?” You asked and pointed at the desk with your chin. Feyd sighed and you giggled. “I knew it,” you bit on your lower lip and sat astride him.

The first thing you did was to take off his shirt. You had observed his body many times before and the sight of his hard muscles had been the most delightful one. You tossed the shirt aside and gasped softly at your husband’s smooth pale skin. You allowed your fingertips to explore every crease, every bump, every vein and every tendon. Carefully, you leaned in and breathed in his scent as your lips softly brushed his shoulder.

His body was a work of art. Daily workouts and trainings were working miracles. He was strong and flexible. The sight alone was enough to make you feel hot. You began to feel the wetness between your legs as you allowed your fingertips to explore the upper part of his body. You tangled your legs behind his waist and moved your hands to his back, feeling the bumpy skin full of thin scars scattered all over. You had noticed them before but only now you gained the courage to ask him about them.

“Was it him?” You asked and Feyd nodded, carefully watching your reaction. But you didn’t flinch or make a disgusted face. You were sad about it. The scars were old. He had to be a young and scared boy once, tortured by his uncle to turn him into the ruthless killing machine he was now.

You leaned in to place a soft kiss upon his cheek.

“Turn around,” you asked and he looked unsure. “You said I could explore and play. I want you to turn around,” you repeated and he nodded, hesitantly, before moving away softly, making sure he wouldn’t hurt your injured thigh. Then he turned his back on you and looked behind his shoulder to see what you were about to do.

You put your hands around his waist and moved closer, still caressing the hard muscles of his abdomen, you leaned in and left a trail of soft kisses up and down his scarred back. From the short conversation you managed to have with your husband you quickly realised that what Feyd-Rautha had never known in his life was tenderness. You wanted to be the first and only person to give it to him. You were his wife and that was your job.

He flinched at the feeling of your soft lips upon his scars but then he relaxed. You lowered the hands resting on his muscular chest and put them on his hips as you shyly hesitated for a while before finally placing one of your palms on his crotch. Innocently peppering his back with delicate kisses, your hand started to massage his bulge through the fabric of his pants. He groaned softly and you froze.

“Don’t stop,” he scolded you.

“Don’t talk to me like that,” you took the hand away and moved back. “You told me I could do it at my own pace. I am not a concubine to order me around,” you reminded him and he turned around to face you again, surprised by your tone. “I am not a shy mouse, Feyd-Rautha. You seem to be aware that women on Morana have more rights. I was raised by a strong Tsarina.”

“Forgive me, I am still learning,” he answered with an amount of sincerity that left you speechless for a moment. As if he really tried to be a good husband.

“It’s quite alright,” you caressed his shoulder. “Lay down for me?” You encouraged and he nodded, quietly.

Feyd moved up on the bed to rest his head on the pillow and you crouched down, waiting for him to be on display for your needy hands. The fact that this terrifying warrior that nearly everyone feared seemed to be so obedient for you just because you were his wife was making you even more and more aroused.

“You’re beautiful,” you murmured as you caressed his chest again. “I mean it.”

“So are you,” he confessed as he looked up at you and you shyly lowered your gaze. “I mean it,” he repeated your words.

“I haven’t felt very beautiful lately,” you admitted.

“I didn’t know,” he confessed.

You didn’t want to talk about it now. You lowered yourself to his neck and sucked on the soft skin only to soothe it with a kiss right after. You went down with your kisses, making sure to leave it upon every inch of his torso before you finally found yourself facing his crotch. His pants looked very tight at the moment. Too tight.

Shyly but curiously, you unbuttoned them and pulled them down with his underwear, watching his hard cock twitching at the feeling of your hot breath. His size impressed you but also made you anxious. You helped Feyd to get rid of his clothes completely and tossed them on the floor before leaning in again.

You grabbed his length carefully as he hissed out of pleasure, trying not to think of all the concubines he had before you – concubines who knew how to please him way better than you did. You hesitated before placing a delicate kiss on the tip.

“Be patient with me, I am only learning,” you looked up, giving him puppy eyes. He was looking down at you with darkened pupils and haze in his gaze.

“Have fun down there,” he growled and threw his head back. You giggled and went back to the soft kisses and kitten licks as your hand pumped his length.

“I’m glad you didn’t take me on our wedding night,” you admitted. “This is so much more fun,” you squeezed his tip and he bucked his hip with a grunt as you watched the black precum leaking out.

You had been educated enough by your mother, servants, medics and all the explicit books you could find in the library. You smirked and licked him clean before lowering your head and taking him as far down your throat as you were able to. You kept yourself steady by holding his muscular thighs but when you felt his cock twitching a little, you let go quickly; your drool mixed with his thick black precum leaked down your chin. Feyd looked up with an annoyed expression on his face but he didn’t say anything this time.

“We can have more fun once I’m expecting. Now we can’t waste any of that, can we?” You tilted your head and pulled your nightgown up to your hips before moving up and lining his cock with your glistening pussy. You swallowed thickly at the sight of how hard and big he was.

“Take your time,” Feyd put his hands on your hips. “It’s a lot to take,” he bragged.

“Oh, so you think I can’t handle it?” You raised an eyebrow.

Just like when it came to wielding a blade, you didn’t like being told that you couldn’t handle something. You were an impatient lady.

“I am your wife,” you reminded him as you slowly lowered yourself. The feeling of his swollen tip brushing your clit made you shiver but you bravely kept a poker face on. “I was made to take your cock and carry your children,” you added. “No matter how big it is, I’m going to take it.”

Feyd winked at you and your heart skipped a beat at that. He could be adorable at times, you had to admit. It made you happy that you could finally experience this side of him. It was worth all the pain your injury had been causing you.

You lowered yourself some more, digging your fingers into his shoulders as he tightened the squeeze on your hips, surely bruising them, too. You hissed and shut your eyes as you threw your head back.

The pain mixed with pleasure, the overwhelming fulfilment with an endless desire to feel him even deeper, to fill you even further, to make you swell and heavy with his children. When you finally sat fully on his cock, you let out a moan of his name as your walls twitched and squeezed him.

“Easy, wife, take your time,” he reminded you. His hands were keeping you down, not letting you move for a while. He was giving you time to adjust to his size and you opened your eyes to look at him below you. You gasped at the admiration on his face. All those weeks of feeling unattractive suddenly vanished from your memory.

You were a daughter of your planet. Morana was known for its fertile soil like you would be known for bearing his heirs. You were his goddess at that moment but you didn’t feel the need to be cruel towards your subject.

“I want you closer,” you breathed out and he nodded, sitting up very carefully, making sure not to hurt you. Once his back rested on the pillow behind him, you clinged to his chest and joined your lips with his in a kiss as your hips began to move slowly.

Feyd’s hands moved your hips and helped you to find the right pace and rhythm. Soon enough you were bouncing on that big cock with ease that came with desire. Feeling that you didn’t require so much of his help anymore, one of your husband’s hands moved down and rested on your bandage. His touch was unusually gentle and you moaned into his mouth, not breaking the hungry kiss even for a second.

After all those weeks of being left abandoned and touch starved, you just wanted to devour him. Nothing mattered; certainly not your wound, not the sweat, not the exhaustion. Your only goal was to chase the high that was coming.

Feeling that your movements became chaotic, Feyd cupped your face and groaned into your mouth as his own hips picked up the pace, taking control over you. You trembled and let out muffled cries of pleasure as he rutted roughly inside of you through your orgasm. Not long after you felt his thick black cum spilling deep inside of you as both of your bodies relaxed.

You broke the kiss and tried to catch your breath. Your husband wiped all the tears off of your cheeks and laid your head on his shoulder gently. You hugged his chest and cuddled him like that in silence.

“Do you remember what you promised?” He asked and you furrowed your brows. “That next time you want to train, you’re coming to me.”

“Yes,” you smiled to yourself. “But I am only learning,” you added, shyly. “I don’t want you to laugh at me.”

“If you’re a quick learner with the blade like you are in the bedroom, then you will soon laugh at me,” he assured you and caressed your back as you giggled into the crook of his neck.

“You’re a quick learner, too, Feyd-Rautha,” you looked up as he looked down, confused. “How to be a husband, I mean,” you explained.

You watched the servant girls painting your husband’s beautiful body with the black war paint as you caressed your swollen bump through the fabric of your dress. They finished their job and took a few steps back with their heads kept low. One of them handed you the bowl of the black liquid and you approached him as he smiled.

You dipped your finger in the paint and drew one of the symbols of your people on his chest. He looked down, questioningly.

“And what does this one mean?” He asked.

“It ensures good favours of the gods and victory in battle,” you explained softly.

“You know that he hates it when you do that,” Feyd reminded you. Baron Harkonnen would prefer you to become a Harkonnen and give up your old ways completely instead of teaching Feyd more about your culture.

“I know,” you looked up. “That’s why I do that.”

In the beginning you had been indifferent to his uncle but the more you found out about him and the damage he had done to your husband, the more you hated him.

Feyd nodded at you and leaned in to place a kiss upon your forehead.

“Na-Baron, five minutes,” one of the servants reminded him of the time left.

“I will bring you the hearts of my enemies,” he cupped your face as he looked deep into your eyes while making a promise.

“I have only one enemy,” you reminded him, “and he is not in the arena today.”

Feyd nodded quietly. He put his hand on your swollen belly and caressed it.

“Take care of your mother for me for a while,” he said and you chuckled with an eye-roll.

You watched him put the last pieces of clothes and take his blades. You couldn’t wait for the day when he’d become The Baron and he wouldn’t have to do it anymore. Even though the fights were fixed, you still feared for his life. And to think you had used to find this practice unhonourable. Now you were glad that his combats were cheated.

“Slava, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen,” you blessed him.

He turned his head around for the last time to wink at you playfully and give you his black grin.

“I’ll be right back.”

MASTERLIST

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha harkonnen x reader #lilysfiction #austin butler x reader

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cyn-write · 3 months

Text

"You've Bewitched Me"

Prompt - NRC is in upheaval. A video of Yuu singing a song has been circling around the school about her being "bewitched," and everyone is trying to figure out by who. Yuu is embarrassed and upset about her private song being the subject of gossip, so she decides to hide from everyone only for her crush to find her and reveal he has been "bewitched," by her...

Pairings - NRC Students x F!reader

Warnings - Gossip, Incredibly Shy Reader with Stage Fright, Depictions of Anxiety, Not Beta Read

Song - "Bewitched" by Laufey

Prologue (Here) - Heartsyble - Savannaclaw - Octavinelle - Scarabia - Pomefiore - Ignanhyde - Diasmonia

When @/thegreatestmagealive uploaded a video of the Ramshackle Perfect singing a love song, to say NRC nearly blew up would be an understatement.

The song, the poster titled “Bewitched,” became an instant hit across campus, but also became the source of tension as everyone was asking the same question: Who bewitched the Ramshackle Perfect?

“20 Thumbmarks on Leona!”

“15 on Kalim!”

“Kalim? Really, no it has to be Vil!”

“30 DOLLARS ON LORD MALLEUS!”

“EVERYONE HUSH! Now Francis, how much on Vil?” The Halls of NRC were filled with gossip on who the song was about. There were multiple pots floating around of people betting on who it was about, and just as many heated discussions.

“Who says it’s a housewarden? She spends most of her time with the Freshies so it has to be one of them! My money is on the Red Head on the Basketball team, he is always hanging on her!” A Scarabia student chimed in at this corner table of the Cafateria.

“Ace? He’s an ass, no it has to be Spade! Anytime someone makes a comment about he at practice, he gets all defensive.” A Heartstyble student on the track team chimed in.

“That runt? Na, he has nothing on Jack.” The Savannaclaw student across from them chimed in.

“The Wolf? He barely says any words! Besides, the Perfect has more class than that, it has to be Epel!” A Pomefoire Student retorted getting glares from the Savannaclaw student.

“All of you are wrong, I ran the data,” The Ignanhyde student pulled out his tablet and showed them a chart, “Out of all the possibilities crossed referenced with the lyrics of the song, it has to be-“

Debates across the school were happening as people discussed who she was singing for. While some advocated for others, others advocated for themselves.

That night, in the midst of the debates, a poor Grim was looking for a place to stay the night. So he went first to Heartstyble.

Grim walked through the portal and saw *chaos*.

“CAULDRON!”

“DEUCE WHAT THE HELL!”

“Calm down you two! No one is going anywhere till Riddle gets back!”

Trey helped Ace out from under the cauldron while Cater tried to calm down Deuce who was red as roses. “Yuu’s private song was just released and all you can think about it YOURSELF!” Deuce called out to Ace as he attempted to wesal himself out of Cater’s grip.

Ace dusted himself off as Trey helped him up, “Well, it is pretty obvious! Who else could it be about? You Loosey Duece? Or maybe Mr. Magicam? Chef Dad? Or maybe, our esteemed leader? No. It has to be me, so I am going to go check on her-“

Deuce tackled Ace, again, so Trey and Cater had to dive in to separate the two.

It did not take long for grim to realize it might be best to come back later. So he went back through the portal to try Savannaclaw.

But his scruff was grabbed before he could step through.

“Heeeey, Sealie!!” Grim gulped as he knew that voice all too well. Floyd turned Grim around so he was facing the two most terrifying smiles in NRC. “Mind clearing something up for Jade and I? See, he thinks Shrimpy’s song is about him, but I say its bout me. And every guppy is saying a different name, so we wanted to get info from them inside fishie~”

“W-what are you talking about!” Grim said crossing his arms. He knew he was in deeeeep dodo.

“Come now Grim, you must know who she’s singing about?” Jade said with a sonically smile on his face, “Now, as Yuu’s close friends, we just want to know, who bewitched our dear friend?”

“Yeeeaaah Sealie, who?” Floyd sung melodically.

“I-I ain’t saying anything!” Grim kept his mouth shut. He had already made Yuu mad, he didn’t want to make. It any worse.

“Oh come on Sealie! Everyone has a price! What’s yours??-“

“What are you two doing?” Came the harsh voice of Vil, Grim’s savior. The housewarden meeting must have finished. Early as all seven, yes even Malleus, came into the hall of mirrors to witness poor little grim shiver in his fur.

“Heya Beta!” Floyd said and waved Grim around, “We’re just asking Sealie a question! That’s all!”

“I’m guessing it’s about Yuu?” Azul asked as he made his way over to his Eel’s. “How is the Ramshackle Perfect? We missed her at the meeting.”

“Yuu… wellllllllll….” Grim scratched his cheek and the other housewarden’s came over, all wondering the same thing, “She is kinda sorta mad at me. And kinda sorta threw me out for ‘not respecting her privacy’ which I didn’t mean to get her upset, I just wanted to show everyone she had a pretty voice and she got all mad.”

“We’ll if you need a place to stay, Octavinelle is always open to poor souls! And I am sure we can work out a pi-“

“We all know what you want Azul, just ask him now so we can clear this up!” Leona said, clearly annoyed at the Mers underhanded methods. “Whose the song about?”

“I-I don-“

“Why are we even asking this question? It is clearly me!” Vil said shaking his head.

“What makes you so sure Schoenheit?” Malleus asked, “I spend more time with the Child of Man and have more magical prowess, it is defiantly about me. I was just about to grab her the-“

“No way the songs about you Lizard!” Leona retorted, “She clearly-“

“The Song’s about Nii-Chan! I ran the-“ Ortho chimed in with Idia listening in on his screen.

“WILL YOU ALL BE QUIET!” Riddle yelled, somehow getting the attention of the others, “This is disgraceful! You are. All concerned with your own selfish needs when you should be worrying about our fellow housewarden whose privacy has been breached and is probably distraught!”

Kalim nodded and said, “Yeah, we need to go cheer her up! Besides, it was probably just a song about love, nothing else!”

Grim sighed and added, “Oh its about someone, You she hear the other songs she wrote about him-“

“About WHO!” Everyone asked.

“I DON’T KNOW!” Grim said and got the glares of everyone.

Azul sighed and said, “You just said you knew.”

“I said I knew she has a crush and wrote more songs about him. I never said I knew WHO it was.” He crossed his arms and looked at the ground, “And she threw me out before I could ask. I tried going back in but she sounded so… upset. When I asked to come back in and apologized she said she just wanted to be alone…”

The group looked dejected at this. Floyd let Grim go and sighed, “Poor Shrimpy…”

Azul looked at Jade and Floyd, “Let’s go, Lounge won’t run itself.”

As Azul left with his Eels, Leona and Kalim also branched off their dorms, “Jamil is probably wondering where I am.”

“Yeah, I gotta make sure Savannaclaw is still in one piece.”

Vil and Ortho branched off next with Vil grumbling about wrinkles and Ortho talking to Idia.

Riddle and Malleus were the last two left with Grim.

“Grim, your welcome to stay at Heartstyble. It might help keep Ace and Deuce in.” Riddle said then looked to Malleus, “The Perfect probably needs a night, but if you do check on her, please let her know I-… We are here if she needs us.”

“I will Roseheart,” Malleus nodded to his red haired companion as he and Grim walk through the Heartstyble Mirror. Malleus turns and before he can make his way to Ramshackle, Lilia is there. All he has to do is shake his head and Malleus knows what his mentor is trying to say, she needs time alone.

The next morning, the first years go to Ramshackle to walk with Yuu to breakfast as they do every morning, but when they got their, the ghost intervened and said she needs to sleep in. The three ghost refused to let any of them enter and even brought Grim’s stuff to the door.

Yuu did not show to any of her classes or reply to any text, and all of her friends quickly understood why. Yuu’s song was all everyone was talking about, more specifically, who it was about. All the pots from the nights before had tripled and almost every students had a guess on who it was about. Yuu has never felt more embarrassed.

By the time night rolled around again, Yuu had read every text, post, and comment about her song. People were making guesses and demanding she confess who. In the midst of the chaos and rumors, all she could think about was what her crush was thinking. She had liked him as more than a friend for a while now, but had no clue if he returned the sentiment. All the worse possibilities were running through her head.. ‘He probably thinks I’m some obsessed freak, this is so embarrassing, Grim ruined. everything, there is no coming back from this. our friendship is ruined, I can never show my face at school again…” Thoughts like this combined with her stage fright made her mood worse. She wrote songs and sang them to help her work through things, it was incredibly personal for her and she never intended to share any of them, not yet at least. Now she was lying in her bed, curled up in her blankets with her phone lighting up with text next to her. She could not bring herself to talk to anyone, she was too scared and embarrassed to.

The Ghost have been kind enough to fend off Grim (who she was still mad at) and her friends (who she was still too embarrassed to see) so she could have some time alone. They worked as her guards and caretakers, making her eat and get up every now and then. They were also the only ones who knew who her songs were about.

So when he arrived on her doorstep, the ghost decided to let him in.

Yuu was looking at her notebook, pouring over the lyrics again and again when a knock came at her bedroom door.

“Yuu… can I come in?” His voice carried through the door.

Yuu felt her heart stop. She held her notebook tightly and sighed, “I guess its now or never…”

She got up from her bed, notebook in hand, and stood in front of the door. She was shaking and as she stared at the door, terrified of what would happen next, when he cast a spell over her once again:

“Yuu, I… I don’t. know if that song was about me but I want you to know. You’ve bewitched me too.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Note: This is the Prolouge to a small series! Be on the look out for each characters part and if you want tagged please let me know! Please Like, Reblog, and Follow for more! If you are interested in seeing more characters in this scenario or these characters in different scenarios, please let me know! (Do not Steal)

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hazbin-writings-and-musings · 4 months

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Lucifer Morningstar x Reader Romance Headcanons

Some very random and very silly little headcanons about being in a relationship with the King of Hell, and likely the beginning of many more as I learn how to write for this darling cartoon that has consumed my entire brain.

- He's one of the greatest flirts of all time, but with one enormous caveat: he has no ability to consciously flirt with anyone he's interested in. Quips and charming smiles come easy when he wants to banter with friends or taunt a foe, but when he starts to get feelings for you and actually attempts to be smooth, everything falls apart. All traces of his grace, power, and quick wit evaporate the instant he pulls his first move, and it only worsens the more flustered he becomes. His first attempt goes so badly that by the end more than a few things are on fire, and neither of you is entirely sure how. Thankfully, your receptiveness despite the disasters will build his confidence; and while he's never quite as smooth as when he's not trying, he does learn to make use of his charms whenever the moment calls for it.

- While at first he'll keep your relationship on the extreme down low, to the point of avoiding public dates and shows of affection, this is only so he can take the time to be sure you know and can fully agree to what you're getting into. Dating Lucifer Morningstar comes with a great many risks that don't ever go away, and he needs you to understand that while he'll do anything to keep you safe, your life will change forever once word gets out. The people of Hell are going to want to know all about their King's new lover, and he has more than a few enemies on multiple planes of existence you'll have to be wary of. As soon as he's convinced you're aware of the risks and accept them regardless, be prepared for him to make up for lost time and then some. He wants to take you on dates to Hell's most premier establishments, to have you on his arm for every single public appearance, and to proudly and boldly declare you to be his love whenever the opportunity presents itself.

- Genuine compliments go a long way with this man. Though he's got a very healthy sense of pride, he still very much enjoys praise, to the point of nearly giddy delight if he gets it from someone he's crushing on. This goes double if you catch him off guard. Expressing your awe when he unceremoniously summons a mundane item out of thin air will fluster him far more readily than even the most lascivious of flirtations, and he'll be riding the emotional high for the better part of a week. Praising his appearance has an even greater impact, and nothing puts a spring in his step quite like hearing how much you like his hair.

- Touch is one of his preferred love languages, second only to gifts and song. He likes to give as much as he does to receive, but as he's a little starved for affection, you'll find him very disproportionately affected by even the most chaste contact. The first time you try looping your arm through his, laying a hand on his shoulder, and even brushing up to his side he'll be deliriously happy. Once the gates are open, however, you can expect him to start initiating and upping the ante quite rapidly. He'll start taking your hand when it's available, cupping the small of your back as you walk at his side, and even pulling you in with his wings for a feathery embrace, and he doesn't stop there. Eventually, if you're amicable, he'll gladly offer his lap anytime you need a seat. This goes double if you're in public.

- Giving gifts is one of his favorite ways to express affection, but he doesn't just do so willy nilly, even if anything you could ask for will be provided in a heartbeat. Rather, he likes to surprise you by gifting something that you didn't even know you needed, and will spend a great deal of time noting what you need help with and drafting ideas to meet that need until he has the perfect solution. Being a craftsman with eons of experience and angelic powers means he can construct anything in the realm of imagination, and he'll use his skills to tune his creation to your particular tastes. All of this is done in secret to ensure you're surprised when he finally presents his creation. No matter how many hours he spends laboring over these gifts, your surprise and joy always makes it all worth it in the end.

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the-boy-meets-evil · 6 months

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all roads lead back to you | c.sc (scoups)

(where you take an annual cabin trip with your friends and your ex decides to join this year)

pairing: ex!seungcheol (scoups) x f!reader genre: exes to lovers | angst, smut rating: explicit - minors DNI word count: ~10.6k warnings: these are exes and the relationship ended badly, but we're healing, drinking, midnight kisses, reader is mentioned as wearing a skirt & tights, making out, seungcheol picks reader up, body worship, slight nipple play, fingering (f. receiving), oral sex (f. & m. receiving), choking, cheol has a big dick (i don't make the rules), unprotected sex (they talk about it, but don't do this), multiple orgasms & overstimulation (f. receiving), aftercare

a/n: this is for @k-vanity's 25 tips for surviving the holidays. day 11 - cabin vacation. i'm not really sure what happened, something about scoups just makes me blackout and write too much (i only started this 2 days ago). also shoutout to @tbzhub for saying we'd do this together lmao. thank you to @gyuwoncheol, @wonwussy, & @wooahaeproductions for helping me land on cheol for this fic. also, just for fun, tagging some scoups enjoyers because i'm nothing if not a menace: @ugh-yoongi, @seungkwansphd, @wongyuseokie, @beomcoups, @horanghater, @cheolism

The holidays are usually your favorite time of year. Sure, they’re really hectic and there’s always way too much to do without nearly enough time to do it. But, you still love it. Love being around friends and family. Love how everyone seems to acknowledge that any problems can wait for the new year. This is a time for joy and happiness. A time to celebrate all the wonderful things that did happen and leave the bad in the year you’re leaving behind.

This time of year also brings around an annual trip that you take with friends. A trip to a secluded cabin where you can all just disconnect. Where you can sit by the fireplace and read. Where you can go to the nearby resort to ski or snowboard. Where you can drink hot cocoa and swap stories and just enjoy the company without the bustle of the city. It’s one of your favorite weekends every time the holidays roll around.

Not this year.

This year, your friends decide that they want to make the group a little bigger and spend a long weekend, including New Year’s Eve, together. Which is great, you’re single and there’s nobody else you’d rather ring the New Year in with. Except for one problem. Your ex is also coming. It’s been a little over a year since you broke up, so you know it’s time to move on. Moving on feels a lot harder when he decides he’s going to come to the cabin weekend again this year. It shouldn’t really surprise you. After all, you were friends before you dated. Didn’t think anything could stop you from being friends after. Didn’t actually think there would be an after, if you’re honest. And you’re definitely not going to be the one to back out or admit you’re still not really over it.

So, that’s why you’re sitting in a car with Wonwoo, Jihoon, and Mimi, headed off to the cabins that your friends booked for an extended long weekend. You’re just thankful that Wonwoo offered you a spot in his car on the way up. Makes it a lot easier. Even if it means Jihoon and Mimi are currently in each other’s space in the backseat as she shows him something on her phone. It’s not that you mind how cute they are together, it’s just still weird to see Jihoon acting like that with anyone. She seems to have waltzed in and melted any defenses he had.

From his position in the driver’s seat, Wonwoo reaches over to squeeze your thigh. You look over at him, grateful for the reminder that you’re not alone in all of this. Grateful that he swore up and down to make sure you never felt awkward the whole weekend. Maybe it won’t be so bad, you think, as you queue up more songs for the drive. That’s the best part about being in the front seat. You get to control the music and Wonwoo started the trip by telling Jihoon and Mimi just to roll with it. Not that they’re paying all that much attention, but it was a nice thought all the same.

The drive up is uneventful. Wonwoo navigates the winding back roads with a practiced ease. You sigh happily, taking in all the trees dusted with snow and the winter wonderland all around as you leave most of your troubles behind. There’s something almost refreshing about being out here. Like the air is crisper and everything is stiller. Wonwoo would make a smartass comment about how there’s more trees, less pollution, and a lot fewer people. So, of course all those things are true. You think it’s more, something about the magic of Christmas and the New Year.

Your smile falls the second you pull up to the main cabin because you can see that Seungcheol’s car is already there. Figures he would not only drive, but beat you there. You try to set that aside, though, because the place is beautiful. It’s set up with a main cabin where you can hang out, cook, play games, or do whatever you want. Then, there are separate small cabins, mostly just with bedrooms and bathrooms, to sleep in. Nayeon, bless her, took care of figuring out the sleeping arrangements for everyone. At least that would be easy.

Jihoon and Mimi are out of the car almost as soon as it stops, even if Jihoon grumbles about how his legs are stiff and the air is cold. It takes one smile from Mimi and he’s smiling back, grabbing their bags from the car to head for the main cabin. Meanwhile, Wonwoo adjusts his glasses and makes sure everything is turned off before getting out of the car to stretch. When he meets you at the trunk, his gaze is soft.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” he asks.

You sigh and pull out your suitcase, with a little help from your friend. “No.”

“We shouldn’t have come,” Wonwoo says.

“Just because I’m being a baby doesn’t mean you should’ve stayed away,” you reassure him.

“You’re not being a baby,” he says with a frown.

“Still,” you press. “We’ve been broken up for a year. There’s going to be a lot of people here, it’ll be fine.”

“As long as you’re sure,” Wonwoo relents. “He didn’t bring anyone, did he?”

“No, Nayeon said it’s just him. She’s worried about me too,” you say with a playful eye roll. “She’s got me staying in a cabin with you, her, and Joshua.”

“I’m glad we’re at least staying together,” Wonwoo says.

“I’m gonna be fine, Wonwoo, you worry too much,” you insist.

You get through the first night and breakfast the next morning without having to say a single word to Seungcheol. It’s been awhile since you last saw some of your friends, so there’s a lot to catch up on. The group is also pretty large, which makes it easier to blend in. Everything, even something as simple as making a meal, is kind of a process, too. You’ve always been pretty comfortable in the kitchen and offer to help cook. Seungcheol can’t say the same. It feels like maybe it’ll be smooth and you can just do your own separate things without it being a big deal. Like you can both just agree to give each other space during the trip and not be awkward.

That lasts until the afternoon on the first full day, unfortunately.

Even though a lot of people take time off between Christmas and New Year’s, a decent portion of the group decides a Friday will still be less busy on the slopes. They want to get some runs in earlier in the day before whatever everyone wants to do later. Seungcheol, thankfully, was one of the first to say he wanted to go. Not surprising, you know he likes really anything where he can be active. Wonwoo was also quick to say he wanted to, after asking you if that was okay. You, again, insisted it was fine.

You’re reading your book by the fire, periodically watching Jun, Nayeon, and Mimi play cards on the other side of the room, when Seungcheol comes hobbling back in. Minghao just behind him, scolding him for not waiting and ruining the peaceful atmosphere.

“What’s wrong?” Nayeon asks, looking up from the game.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” Seungcheol says shortly.

“He rolled his ankle,” Minghao interjects.

“Now you see why I stayed behind,” Jun says.

“I’m fine, really,” Seungcheol insists.

“You should ice it just in case. And keep it elevated,” Minghao says as heads off to the kitchen.

Trying to keep your face straight, you mark the page in your book and get up. All you want is for this to be as subtle as possible. But, Jun is also in the room.

“Where are you going?” Jun asks.

“Oh, just back to my room to get something,”

It’s a lie and you’re pretty sure they know it, but you also don’t care. You’re not going to stay in the room with an injured Seungcheol because he gets pouty when he can’t do exactly what he wants. This is going to be one of those times. There’s no way he’s going to be happy sitting still when he knows his other friends are still out on the trails. Especially when it’s such a minor thing. You hope that they all understand your decision to just let them deal with him and whatever he has to say.

When you feel like it’s been enough time, you venture back into the main cabin, portable charger in hand, for good measure. Not that you think anyone will ask what it is that you needed from your room, but it’s always a good idea to be prepared. Just in case. At first glance, you think the main living area is empty. That makes you sigh in a little relief. Not that you want to be alone when this is a trip for friends. It’s just nice to have a quiet moment in all the chaos. You think you’ll be able to get back to your book, at least for a little, until you notice someone laying on the couch. Not someone. Seungcheol. Quickly, you turn around, hoping he doesn’t see you. And it would probably work, if you didn’t bump into the corner of a table on your way out.

His head snaps up and swivels to look at you. “What - oh.”

“Sorry, I was just leaving,” you say.

“Can you really not be in the same room as me?” he asks. He sits up so that he can look at you more easily.

“I’ve been in the same room as you plenty,” you point out.

“Not alone,” he persists.

“What reason would we possibly have to be alone together?” you wonder.

“You don’t have to be so…” he starts.

“So, what?” you press.

“So…like this,” Seungcheol finishes, somewhat lamely.

“How should I be?” you ask.

“I don’t know, just, not like this. We were always comfortable with each other, even before…” he starts and stops suddenly.

“Before we dated? Before you shattered my heart? Before you decided it was easier to shut me out instead of just talking to me?” you ask, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes.

“I know,” he admits.

“You just abandoned me,” you say quietly. “I needed you and you weren’t there. I never would’ve left you like that.”

“I know. I made so many mistakes. So many things I can’t take back,” he says. He actually looks remorseful. You’re not sure if that’s better or worse. “I’m so sorry for that. I would take it all back if I could. I’d do everything differently.”

“This was a mistake,” you say.

“Talking to me?” he asks.

“Coming on this trip at all,” you admit and turn away. “I have to go.”

With your back to him, you miss the way his face falls at your admission. Don’t see the way he considers getting up to follow after you. It’s for the best, anyway. Your heart's already breaking again just from one conversation. Just from seeing the emotion on his face. The one face you thought you’d always know better than your own. It’s amazing how everything can change in a single moment. How something that took years to build, first as friends and then as a couple, can all come tumbling down in a second. A split second or a fork in the road. One wrong turn and it’s all gone.

You make it through to Saturday without any more forced conversations with your ex-boyfriend. Manage to sit on the opposite end of the table from him during meals. Wait until he commits to playing a game or watching something before you decide what to do yourself. Still, you feel very included in everything with different groups of your friends because there are plenty of people there to hang out with. If you take the forced conversation with him out of the equation, it’s actually been a pretty good trip, overall. Not nearly as hard as you expected it to be.

“I’m gonna go check out the lodge at the mountain, anyone wanna come?” Wonwoo throws out. There’s a smattering of lukewarm responses. Mostly, people say they may hit the trails a little bit later after they’ve had a lazy morning.

“I’ll come,” you offer.

“Shocking that you two are a pair,” Nayeon jokes from her spot on the couch, curled up with Joshua.

“That’s enough out of you,” you joke back before turning to Wonwoo. “I’ll go grab my coat.”

“Can you grab my hat? I think I left it in my room,” Wonwoo requests.

“Sure,” you agree.

When you meet Wonwoo in the entranceway, you find your eyes back on the living area. Almost like you can feel someone watching you. But, when nobody is, you figure that you must have imagined it, not noticing the way Seungcheol’s jaw tightens or his mouth turns down in frown. He had just been looking and he wasn’t liking what he saw. Instead, having missed all that, you fall into step beside one of your closest friends and head out of the cabin.

“It’s not a far walk, but we can drive if you want,” Wonwoo offers, sticking his hands into his pockets.

“No, a walk would be nice. It’s not as cold today,” you say.

One of the best parts of being friends with Wonwoo is the sheer comfort you feel with him. It’s always been like this, since the beginning of your friendship. Always just as easy to say the hard things to him as it is to sit in silence. Always easy to avoid the hard things, because he seems to find it easy to to tell when you don’t want to say something. Unfortunately, it’s also easy for him to push you to speak, even when you’re not sure if you want to. Like now, as soon as you reach the Lodge.

“Are you doing okay?” Wonwoo asks as the pair of you make your way over to a stand selling hot drinks.

“I’m assuming you don’t mean from the walk over here,” you deflect while you look at the menu.

“No,” Wonwoo answers simply.

“I’m fine,” you insist, stepping up to the counter. “Peppermint hot chocolate and whatever he wants.”

“You don’t have to…” Wonwoo starts, falling silent at the look you give him. He sighs, knowing you won’t relent. “Just a plain hot chocolate.”

“Thanks,” you say as you pay.

“You’re not fine. I can see it on you,” Wonwoo says.

You pause when someone calls out your name for the order. “I really am doing fine. The only hard part was getting sucked into a short conversation with him yesterday.”

“What did he say?” Wonwoo asks.

“Nothing much,” you say and meet Wonwoo’s eyes. You can tell you need to carry on. So, you recount the conversation as best as you can remember.

“He misses you,” Wonwoo surmises.

“And if he does? What does it matter?” you ask.

“You miss him too,” Wonwoo points out. “That’s why it matters.”

“I don’t,” you argue. “He broke my heart.”

“What happened? A year ago when you broke up, what happened?” Wonwoo asks.

“You know what happened,” you say with a sigh.

“No, I don’t. I know he left, somehow, but I don’t know what really happened. You’ve always kept that part of the story close to the vest,” Wonwoo says.

“Because it still hurts,” you plead.

“Maybe it’s time you let someone else take a little of that pain by talking about it,” Wonwoo suggests. You find a table to sit down as you’re considering sharing.

Ultimately, it would be nice to get someone else’s perspective. To get someone who knows you both, and cares about you both, to weigh in on everything that happened. Even if Wonwoo seemingly took your side, you know he still talks to Seungcheol as well. With a steadying breath, you launch into the whole explanation, at least your side of it. It’s time, past time, honestly, that you get this off your chest.

It was great, at the beginning. The two of you were friends first, for years, before something shifted and you started to see each other differently. Suddenly stepping a little more carefully around each other. Not really knowing what to do or what to expect. Not sure if it would ruin the friendship to admit that there were feelings there. Until one day, Seungcheol finally made the move, asked you out on a date, and made sure you knew that’s what he was asking. It got very serious, very quickly. Far more quickly than either of you expected. But, that’s what happens when you start as friends. There are so many things you already know, so many things you don’t have to ask, so many memories already embedded into your relationship. Things were good. It wasn’t like they were perfect. There were little fights here and there, but nothing that felt that serious. Nothing that felt like a dealbreaker.

It’s hard to admit, even to Wonwoo, that you saw Seungcheol as your forever. As someone you wouldn’t let go of once you had him. He was your safe space without ever being boring. Your protector without ever being one of those toxic assholes. Your biggest cheerleader without being condescending. It was way too early in the relationship to be feeling like he was your forever, so you didn’t ever say it to him, but you felt it. Felt it deep in your bones. He was also vulnerable with you in a way that he wasn’t with anyone else. At least anyone else that you’d seen. The first time he just let you take care of him, let you see him as something other than someone strong and in control, it made you fall even more deeply for him. It didn’t hurt that he nearly stopped your heart with how stupid hot he was. That gets a snort out of Wonwoo before you continue on.

Suddenly, everything changed. Seungcheol withdrew into himself and stopped confiding in you. He could always be a bit moody, a little deep in his feelings. Still, he would always talk to you about it. Would always share with you what he was feeling. Sometimes it was something so simple as you getting a little too much attention, which he didn’t like. He could be a little jealous. It was something you worked on with him. Sometimes it was a conversation with a friend weighing heavily or something going wrong at work. No matter what, he always talked to you about it. Until he didn’t. Until he just stopped saying much of anything. Until he got a bit secretive with everything in his life and you didn’t really recognize him anymore. His phone was always turned over. Not fully paying attention to you when you were in group settings. Not making plans the way he used to.

“What did you do?” Wonwoo asks.

“I confronted him,” you say. Simple. It was so simple. “I told him it wasn’t okay and that I deserved better. That we always got through things together and that we needed to get back to that.”

“Mature of you,” Wonwoo says.

“I thought so,” you say and take a steadying breath. “He agreed, even. Told me that I did deserve better.”

“So what…” Wonwoo asks, but trails off. Obviously confused.

“He said that it was too much. That he couldn’t give me the things I deserved. That I would be better off finding someone else who could,” you say and wipe away the stray tear.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know,” Wonwoo says.

“I didn’t want you to. I didn’t want you to look at me like that,” you admit. “Like I was broken because someone didn’t want to love me.”

“You’re not broken,” Wonwoo insists softly, hand reaching out for one of yours. “You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever known. But it’s okay to admit when you need help. Or when you need a friend.”

“I know,” you sigh. “It’s just hard.”

“I know, but I’m here,” Wonwoo assures you.

Saturday night finds Wonwoo and Seungcheol as the last two awake in the living room, finishing their drinks in relative silence. It used to be easy for Seungcheol, sitting with his friend like this. Yet, it hasn’t been, not in the last year since he broke up with you. Not since Wonwoo made it clear that they were friends, but he was sticking by you no matter what. Not that Wonwoo’s been cold or rude or anything. That would have made it easier, Seungcheol thinks. No, instead he’s been mostly the same. Still just as friendly and supportive. All it does is make him feel worse. Why can’t Wonwoo just say what’s really on his mind?

“How was the lodge earlier?” Seungcheol asks.

“Hmm?” Wonwoo asks, eyes seeming to come back into focus as they look over at him.

“The lodge? You went over there earlier. I was just asking how it was,” Seungcheol repeats.

“Oh, fine. We just ended up getting hot chocolate and talking. Kinda watched people coming and going from the trails,” Wonwoo says like it doesn’t matter. Maybe it doesn’t.

“Are you two…are you…” Seungcheol starts and stops the question several times.

“Dating?” Wonwoo asks, taking pity on his friend. “No. She’s been single since…”

“I broke her heart?” Seungcheol supplies humorlessly.

“I wasn’t going to say that.”

“No? It seems like someone spending that much time with her would say that.”

Wonwoo regards him for a second, adjusts his glasses like he’s buying time to think. “What happened? With you and her, what happened?”

“I’m sure you’ve already heard it from her.” The answer is short. Seungcheol doesn’t want to play these games, not with someone that’s so obviously close to you.

“I’m not asking to hear it from her. I’m asking to hear it from you,” Wonwoo presses. He’s insistent, but his eyes are soft. It’s easy to wonder if it’s time to share.

“I got scared,” Seungcheol admits. “And jealous.”

“Of what? Or of who?” Wonwoo asks. Seungcheol takes a long sip of his drink and grimaces a little. He isn’t buzzed enough for this. Can’t really believe he’s entertaining sharing in the first place. But, well, isn’t this what he’s hoping for? Another chance?

“Of everything and everyone,” Seungcheol says. “She was so kind, so patient, so good to me. Good for me. Just the best person I’ve ever known. I just thought that one day, she’d wake up and she’d realize that she deserved more than me.”

Wonwoo shakes his head. “Why did you think that?”

“I don’t know,” Seungcheol admits. “I guess, well I know I can be difficult. That I get in my head a lot. I know sometimes it’s hard to talk about what I’m feeling. She made a lot of that feel easier, which made me fall harder for her. But, then she makes a lot of people feel that way, doesn’t she? Like she’s the only one who will understand. I don’t even think I was the only friend of ours that had feelings for her. I just, I don’t know, it sounds so fucking dumb now, but I couldn’t compete.”

“It wasn’t a competition, Cheol,” Wonwoo says.

“I know that,” Seungcheol insists.

Wonwoo fixes him with a stare. “Do you? She’s a lot of things, maybe a lot that make people interested in her. But, she chose you. She chose you and kept choosing you, every chance she got. I don’t think that ever would’ve changed.”

“Do you want me to feel worse?” Seungcheol asks, voice rising a bit. “I already told her that I would go back and change things if I could, but I can’t.”

“Do you still love her?” Wonwoo asks, voice so quiet. Yet, it carries all the same.

“Of course I do,” Seungcheol says.

“Then figure out a way to tell her,” Wonwoo replies.

“It’s not that easy,” Seungcheol says. “And aren’t you supposed to be telling me to leave her alone? As her friend?”

Wonwoo rises from his seat. “It can be that easy, if you stop being your own worst enemy. And I’m your friend, too. It doesn’t seem like the chapter is really over for either of you yet.”

Seungcheol sits and considers what his friend shared. Wonders if there might be something there. He barely registers as Wonwoo says goodnight and calls a goodnight in response. Then, he’s left with his thoughts again. Should he say something? Can he bring himself to say something? Or will you just shut it down again?

New Year's Eve brings a snowstorm with it that has your group of friends deciding it’s best to just stay in the cabins instead of venturing out to the party they’re having at the lodge. There’s plenty of you for a party, plenty of food, and plenty of warmth, especially close to the fire. The snow falls lightly outside the windows, blanketing everything around with a fresh layer of powdery flakes. It’s not supposed to get truly heavy until much later in the evening. So, you can just get dressed up and have a party with everyone that’s familiar to you. No worrying about mixing with strangers and how they’ll impact the party.

When you and Mingyu go into the kitchen to take stock of what you have and plan out the food for the day, you realize that maybe you don’t have everything that you need after all. You could actually use more food and you definitely could use some champagne to toast with. It makes sense, though, you planned to go into the lodge to ring in the new year. Your smile when Wonwoo, Jihoon, and Joshua offer to go out and do a run is immediate and wide. You hand over a list of what you need (well, you text it to all three of them just to cover your bases) and they’re off into town. That lets you turn back to the kitchen, where Mingyu and Mimi are starting on an appetizer. You’re trying to figure out what you can work on when someone clears their throat. Your heart skips a little when you look up.

“Could I talk to you for a minute?” Seungcheol asks you, face more open than you’ve seen in a while.

It makes your mouth go dry. How are you supposed to turn him down when he’s asking in front of everyone like this? Like it’s just a totally normal thing to ask? All you can do is nod and avoid looking at anyone else around you. Just nod and follow him into a smaller side room off the main living area.

“Thanks,” he says when they stop walking.

“What was I supposed to do? Make a scene?” you ask.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know how else to ask you to talk,” he admits.

“I heard you,” you say, cutting across his words. He looks confused. “Last night? I heard you talking to Wonwoo. I left my charger in here and came back to get it.”

“Oh,” is all he says.

“Oh?” you repeat.

“I wanted to actually tell you, not have you overhear me talking through things with someone else,” he says, mouth turned down like he’s upset.

“Then you should have just talked to me,” you press.

“I couldn’t! You won’t talk to me,” he says defensively.

“Not this weekend. A year ago, when it all happened,” you say quietly.

“I know,” he says. You expect him to look annoyed or defeated, but he only looks sincere. “I knew the moment you walked out that I fucked up and I’m so sorry. I’ve tried a hundred times since then to just talk to you, but the words never felt right.”

“Cheol,” you plead. You’ve been waiting a year to hear this. Except, you finally feel like you’re starting to move past it all and this is only making it confusing.

“Just, you don’t have to say anything, I just want you to hear me out,” Seungcheol pleads. “I know I have absolutely no right to ask you that, but I’m asking anyway.”

“Okay,” you say, barely above a whisper.

“I fucked up. I knew I did when you walked out, but it took me a while to realize just how bad. I didn’t just drive a partner away, I drove someone away that got through all my walls in a way nobody else ever has. I drove away the person that made me feel comfortable, that supported me even when I was being an idiot, that constantly showed up for me. I was afraid that I didn’t deserve you and always jealous of everyone else that paid attention to you. I thought one day you were gonna wake up and realize that there were better people out there that were less, I don’t know, emotionally closed off. I didn’t realize until way too late that you knew exactly what you brought to the table and what you deserved, but you picked me. I didn’t realize that it’s the only thing I ever needed, was you seeing all of me and picking me anyway,” Seungcheol says.

“I don’t, that’s…” you trail off and shake your head to clear it. You’re trying to find the words when Nayeon pokes her head in.

“Hey, I’m so sorry to butt in, but Mimi just kicked me out of the kitchen. I was only offering because Mingyu said he needed help,” Nayeon says. “I think they need you.”

“Oh, um,” you start, kind of like a deer in headlights.

“You should go help him. I don’t want everyone hating me for keeping you from helping Mingyu,” Seungcheol says with a light chuckle at complete odds with the situation.

“Thank you,” Nayeon says with a smile as she grabs your arm to whisk you away.

“Does Mingyu actually need me?” you ask.

“Huh? Yeah, he does,” Nayeon laughs. “I wasn’t trying to save you, you’re good enough at that on your own.”

“I don’t buy that,” you say, pulling both of you to a halt. Nayeon rolls her eyes.

“Fine, maybe I heard what he said to Wonwoo last night from Joshua and maybe I want you to at least consider what he has to say,” Nayeon admits. “I liked you together, sue me.”

“I just might,” you grumble, heading off to help Mingyu in the kitchen without Nayeon in tow.

After dinner, you and Mingyu insist that you’re not getting anything, for anyone, for the rest of the night. And probably into tomorrow. Mimi got distracted part way through and disappeared for entirely too long with Jihoon. Which would be fine, but there were a lot of people to cook for and you needed all the help you could get. Joshua popped in and out, thankfully, but it was still tiring. The perk has been that you actually haven’t had to lift a finger since. Your drink stays full and someone is always willing to get you something to eat. That lets you settle in to play a game with the group.

The TV in the background steadily counts down as it gets closer to midnight. Occasionally, the performance draws your attention to watch. Mostly, you’re just drinking entirely too much. Somewhere, in the deep recesses of your brain, you know that you’re just trying to avoid thinking about everything Seungcheol said. Or trying to avoid thinking how good he looks tonight. It’s hard to stop yourself from lingering on the way his shirt clings to his chest. Has he been working out even more? Or the way his pants stretch tight across his thighs. Not for the first time, you shake your head to clear it, recross your legs, and focus on whatever game it is you’re playing. Ignore the look Wonwoo gives you from his place next to you. He certainly hasn’t missed your looks. (And nobody else really has, either, except for Jun. But, that’s just Jun for you.)

Everyone sets aside the games when it gets closer to midnight, milling around with varying amounts of energy instead of sitting still. You realize, even with any awkwardness from Seungcheol being there, you can’t think of anyone else you’d rather ring in a new year with. Surrounded by all of your favorite people, what else could anyone ask for? Well, except maybe a New Year’s kiss. As if on cue, your glance drifts over to Seungcheol. It’s a little surprising to find he’s already looking at you, smiling softly. It sends a surge of emotion through you to think of all the reasons you fell in love with him in the first place. When you turn away to take a sip of your drink, you find it’s empty. With midnight rapidly approaching, you really need a refill on the champagne. You’re about to go do that when a voice breaks into your thoughts.

“Here,” he says.

You turn to look at Seungcheol, now very firmly in your space, holding out a new glass of champagne. “Thanks.”

“I just noticed you were almost empty and figured you’d want it,” he offers.

“Yeah, I should make sure this one lasts,” you chuckle out.

The host on TV announces that there’s only a minute left. Everyone around you starts talking excitedly or getting closer to their partners, if they have them. Jokingly, you told Wonwoo that he would be your New Year’s kiss. Now, that’s the last thing on your mind. Seungcheol hovers close by. When you look over at him, though, his eyes are on the TV, counting down along with the host when it gets to ten seconds.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

Everyone shouts together and starts clinking glasses. Hugging their friends or kissing their partners. Your body makes the decision for you when you turn to the man next to you and cheers his glass. As he starts to turn away, you grab his arm and pull him into you. Press your lips against his before either of you can figure out what’s happening. He recovers from his surprise quickly and wraps his free arm around your waist to pull you against his chest. It’s familiar and also somehow completely new at the same time.

Breathless. That’s what you feel when you pull away and cheers with other friends. You throw your arms around Nayeon and press a kiss to Wonwoo’s cheek. Pointedly ignore any looks or raised eyebrows about your decision to kiss your ex in a room full of all your friends. It’s fine. Everyone is doing fine. You’re definitely thankful that someone suggests a game and you can all go back to celebrating without talking about the elephant in the room. A very different elephant than when you first got to the cabins.

There’s another massive difference, too. Instead of sitting on the fringes or carefully leaving space, Seungcheol plops down right next to you. Lets his arm rest along the back of the couch. His arm isn’t around you, but it could be with the slightest adjustment. Several of your friends look at you with the question in their eyes. You avoid all of them, like the true adult you are, and focus, instead, on the warmth of Seungcheol’s thigh when it presses into yours. Actually, you avoid drinking any more, either. The whole night has been a little confusing (read: a lot confusing) and you don’t need an alcohol haze adding to that. It doesn’t escape your notice that he stops drinking as well.

When you start to get a little tired, you excuse yourself to the kitchen, claiming you need a snack and don’t know what you want. A minute later, Seungcheol appears on the other side of the island. Leaning casually against it like it’s the most normal thing in the world. Like he hasn’t sent your entire world into a spiral. Like he’s not still one of the hottest people you’ve ever seen in your life.

“So, uh, I don’t wanna assume anything…” he starts and you hold up a hand.

“I’m going to excuse myself in a minute to go to bed. Give it a few minutes and then come to my room,” you say, walking around him without waiting for a response.

When you tell the group that you’re going to turn in for the night, you do your best not to meet anyone’s eyes. You’re not naive enough to think you’re fooling anyone. Not that you even want to. It’s just, well, you want this time to figure out what’s happening. It’s a little hard to do that when you know everyone’s eyes are on the two of you. There’s the tiniest bit of you holding onto the hope that you can pass it off as you being overwhelmed by the kiss at midnight. Like you didn’t just tell him to meet you in your room.

Back in your room, you shrug off your jacket and sit down on the bed. The seconds seem to drag by waiting for him to show up. For a second, you wonder if he’s actually going to show up at all. You stop those thoughts in their tracks. He had a lot to say and he kissed you back. Then, he spent the rest of the night pressed up close to you. He’s going to show up. Before you can spiral further, there’s a knock at the door. You’re halfway to the door when it opens a crack and Seungcheol peeks his head inside.

“Can I come in?” he asks, looking unsure for the first time since before you kissed him.

“I did ask you to come to my room,” you joke.

“I was a little surprised,” he admits.

“Me too,” you agree.

He shuts the door behind him, allowing you to really look at him for the first time all weekend. To take in his appearance, as he removes his jacket, without any other eyes on your. Or anyone analyzing the interaction. To just appreciate the man you fell in love with. His hair is a little shaggy and blond, a color you don’t remember seeing on him before. He catches you looking, but instead of a smirk, there’s only a smile. Hopeful and genuine. It’s a little overwhelming to have him in your space. To know you need to talk. To know there’s so much to work through.

Instead, in the only move you can think of, you close the distance, wrapping your arms around his middle. He doesn’t even miss a beat. Just wraps his arms around you, erasing any last bit of space between you. It feels calm, familiar. Like no time has passed. Like you’re not different people now. He kisses the top of your head, so soft you think it might shatter any resolve you have left.

“I’m sorry I kissed you in front of everyone without talking to you,” you mumble into his shirt.

“I’m not,” he quickly reassures you.

“I really fucking want to kiss you again,” you admit, still talking into his shirt rather than looking at him.

“Then,” he starts, moving a hand to tilt your chin up, “what are you waiting for?”

“We probably should talk,” you say.

“You’re right,” he sighs.

Except, do you really want to talk right now? Do you really want to stop yourself from kissing him again? You stopped drinking so your head would be clear enough to make this decision. You’re just a little sick of overthinking everything this weekend. Sensing the indecision, Seungcheol presses a feather light kiss to your lips. Enough to make the decision, while also being light enough that you could easily pull away.

You do, just for a second. “Fuck it, let’s talk tomorrow.”

Your lips crash back against Seungcheol’s, hungry and desperate, arms wrapped around his neck. It makes him tilt down a little so that you can press against him. There’s no hesitation on his end, either. You find yourself wondering if he was always this good at kissing or if he’s gotten better since you broke up. Or maybe it just means more the second time around. When he picks you up, you gasp into the kiss. Wrap your legs around his waist to feel a little steadier. Not that you think he would ever let you fall. It’s easier than you expected to fall back into this kind of trust with him.

It’s like you both want to go fast, yet also take your time. Seungcheol deposits you on the bed, then takes his time removing your shoes. Toes his off a little more quickly. You go to remove some of your layers, only to have his hands stop you. He’s so slow, removing the sheer top with painstaking care. Kissing along your skin as he exposes it. The amount of attention makes you squirm. You’re prepared for something quick and dirty. Something more like a one-night stand. You’re not prepared for him to worship your body as he exposes more of your skin. Part of you feels really exposed, because he’s still fully dressed, as he carefully unhooks your bra. The way he looks at you, like you’re the only person in the world he’s ever wanted, makes your heart ache. Makes you second guess if this is right.

“We can stop. We don’t have to do this,” he whispers into your skin.

You grab his face so that you can look him in the eyes. There’s something in you that just needs to gauge him for a minute. Needs to really know what decision you’re making. There’s so much love there, so many unspoken words, so much sincerity. Maybe you’re not over him at all. Maybe he meant everything he said.

“No, I want this. Want you,” you assure him.

His eyes sparkle a little. There’s no time to dwell on it, though. His mouth is on your skin again. Kissing the spot on your neck that he knows drives you crazy. Kissing the beauty mark on your shoulder. Kissing across your collarbone. When he works his way down to your nipples, he’s not being so soft anymore. He pinches one between his fingers without warning.

“Fuck, Cheol,” you hiss.

“Too much?” he asks. You don’t need to look at him to know he’s smirking, but you do anyway. That knowing smirk sends desire coursing through you.

“You’re such a little shit,” you whine.

He pinches the same nipple again. Watches you as he flicks his tongue over the other. Actually smiles when you arch into his mouth. “You don’t seem to mind it.”

You wind your hand into his hair in response, pull a little harder than normal. He groans against your breast, sending a little vibration into your skin. “You don’t seem to mind a little pain, either.”

There’s no answer. Not that you need it. One of his hands moves down your body, mouth still focusing on your chest, until he gets to your thigh. Your skirt is bunching up around hips from squirming on the bed. “How much do you like these tights?”

You look down at the sparkly tights you bought just for the party. That you’ll probably never wear again. “I mean, they’ve got sparkles. Wasn’t planning to wear them again.”

“Good,” he says.

You’re expecting him to rip them on the spot. Instead, he returns his mouth to yours, kissing you hard, and lets a finger run over your entrance, through both tights and underwear. It’s not enough. There’s entirely too much fabric in the way. He’s teasing you, he has to be. There’s no other reason that explains this kind of torture.

“Jesus, Cheol, please,” you beg.

“What are you trying to do to me?” he groans. Seems like he still likes it when you beg for something.

In either case, he carefully rips a hole in your tights, too focused on you to figure out pulling them down. Seemingly in one motion, your underwear is pushed to the side and he’s got a finger running up your entrance. Feeling that you’re turned on from the way he’s been kissing all over your body. Thankfully, you don’t have to beg again. At least, not yet. He presses his fingers at your mouth and you suck them in eagerly. Swirl your tongue around them. He almost looks reluctant when he withdraws them to press one inside your cunt.

“Fuck, you’re so wet for me,” he groans.

“Forgot how good your fingers felt,” you answer, squirming underneath him.

“Bet I could make you come just on my fingers,” he says as he adds a second one.

“Fuck,” you draw out. He’s not being gentle with you anymore. “Then you don’t get to taste me. And we both know how much you love that.”

He leans in closer, you’re assuming to kiss you. Instead, his lips find your ear. “Who says I can’t do both?”

You bite down on your fist to keep from screaming out when he thrusts faster. Try your best to hold on when his thumb brushes over your clit. All you want is to prove him wrong. Prove that you can hold on and that you’re not putty in his hands. Except, your body remembers. It remembers just how good he makes you feel. Remembers how well he knows what makes you crazy. Nobody has ever known your body like him. And it’s a little annoying. With his fingers inside you, it’s easy to realize that nobody feels as good as him. You could never get yourself off like he could.

It’s an embarrassingly short time before you’re coming on his fingers, fighting not to scream out. Trying anything you can not to make it more obvious just why you decided it was time to head to bed. Seungcheol guides you through the high as you fall back into the bed, sinking deeper into the mattress. After a moment, you prop yourself up to watch him remove his shirt. You’re no longer the only one that’s overexposed. Then again, you don’t feel exposed being half naked around him. It only feels comfortable. Once he removes his shirt, he moves back to your body. Actually takes the time to remove your tights and underwear now. His breath ghosts across your cunt. That action alone is enough to send a little shiver through your body. You’re definitely sensitive.

Seungcheol positions himself between your legs and looks up when you suck in a breath. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

He’s so pretty like this. You’ve always thought that. Pushing his hair out of his eyes and looking up at you from underneath his lashes like he’s never seen anyone more beautiful in his life. So caring. The little bit of caution you get from him in the middle of him ruining you. You clear your throat to remember he asked you a question. “Yes, Cheol. With you, always.”

It’s immediately more honest than either of you are expecting. Instead of breaking the moment, though, it seems to spur him on. The kind smile dissipates into something much more confident. He spreads you open and looks up for a last time before his tongue licks a strip up your entrance. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been since the last time he was between your legs, your entire body remembers. It’s like muscle memory. The way your back arches. The way your hand knots in his hair. The way the praises fall from your lips. You’re sensitive. So fucking sensitive. And he knows. It’s always been one of his favorite things with you. Pushing you to the edge and then over again.

“God, I forgot how fucking good you taste,” he says when he takes a breath.

“Well maybe, fuckkkk,” you start before cutting out.

For once, he’s not a demon. He doesn’t ask what you were about to stay. Just keeps alternating between fucking his tongue into you and sucking your clit into his mouth. It’s too much and not enough all at once. Your entire body feels like it’s on fire. When his nose bumps against your clit as he’s buried deep in your pussy, you lose it again. Come all over his tongue and his face. Come harder than you remember coming in a really long time. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything.

By the time the last shock works through your body, he’s laying next to you on the bed. You can’t help it. You have to lean over and kiss him. Want to taste yourself on his lips. It’s almost like you need that to know this is all real. That it’s all happening and it’s not just some weird, horny dream. (It’s not like that would be a first, either. You’ll never admit it, but you’ve thought a lot about him since you broke up. Especially when you were horny and needed a release. That’s your business, though.)

“Fuck, Cheol,” you utter when you pull away from the kiss.

“I’ve missed hearing my name on your lips,” he admits. “Specially when you call me Cheol.”

“I’ve missed saying it,” you share, equally honest.

You’re a little weak already. It’s hard to imagine what tomorrow is going to be like. But, you move down the bed anyway. Seungcheol tracks you with his eyes as you position to undo his pants. He moves his hips up to help you pull both his pants and briefs down. His stare as you pull your skirt down and discard it at the side of the bed is almost possessive. It sends something through your body.

It’s your turn to remind him that he’s not the only one who remembers. You also remember just what drives him crazy and just how to get him going. You remember every place he likes to be kissed. So, you start there. Run your lips along every part of his body, like you’re committing him to memory again. As if you could ever forget anything about him. You delight in the sounds you pull from him just with your kisses. Maybe he knows, though, that you’re working your way down.

“So hard just from getting me off,” you comment.

“Because I know that nobody can make you come like I can and it’s fucking hot,” he answers.

It’s the same answer he’s always given and something about the familiarity makes you bolder. Even though you know there’s a conversation for tomorrow, it feels like the easiest thing you’ve ever done. You take his dick in your hand, run a finger over the tip and feel a little bit of the precum there. When you lick a stripe up the underside of his shaft, he shudders. Closes his eyes for a second before they snap back open to watch you. He’s always been like this. Always wanting to watch. This time is no different as you slowly take him into your mouth. You know he wants to fuck into your face, know you’d let him. But, you’re thankful he doesn’t. Even if you remember, he’s still big and thick inside your mouth. You need the time to get used to him. Once you do, though, you start to bob. Slowly, at first, before you let him take control. Relax your throat and let him find purchase in your hair. Encourage him to jerk his hips up as you keep your eyes on him as much as possible. You know how much it drives him crazy, even as the tears form and you gag a little

“Fuck,” Seungcheol utters.

He pulls you off his cock and up to his face so that he can kiss you. This is your favorite version of him. When he’s needy and desperate and completely putty in your hands. Like he can’t possibly imagine being anywhere that you aren’t. It’s when you know that you’re not crazy, that he’s just as far gone for you as you are for him.

“I really need to fuck you,” he says. His lips are swollen from kissing you and his pupils are completely blown. “Fuck, I don’t have a condom on me.”

“It’s fine, I’m still on the pill and I haven’t been with anyone since you,” you say.

That seems to catch him off guard. “You haven’t?”

“No,” you answer.

“I haven’t either,” he admits.

“Then, we’re fine. I trust you,” you tell him.

“Thank god, I really miss being inside you,” he breathes out.

“Think you just miss me,” you grumble as you reposition to straddle his lap.

“You and that smartass mouth of yours,” he retorts.

“I’m about to ride you, Seungcheol, and you just fucked my smartass mouth. So, maybe, pipe down,” you warn him.

This has always been your dynamic, swapping back and forth for who’s in control. As much as he says he likes control, you know he likes giving it up to you just as much. You know that he hasn’t ever let anyone else be in control apart from you. He looks up at you as you position yourself over him. There was a time when you hated this position. Felt really self conscious about how you must look from this angle. The second you admitted it to him, he was quick with his praise. Assuring you that you’re beautiful to him and there’s nothing to worry about.

He stops you before you lower yourself onto him. Puts his fingers in your mouth again and you obey without a second thought. Then, he runs his fingers along your entrance. Slides a finger in before quickly adding a second. It’s an awkward angle, but you get what he’s trying to do. Appreciate that he wants to make sure you’re at least a little prepped. When he pulls his fingers out, you’re only a little embarrassed at the moan that slips through your lips. If you completely ignore the smirk that he throws your way, well, who can blame you? The smirk is gone a second later when you finally lower yourself onto him.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groans.

You know him so well. You know his instinct is to buck his hips up into you. You know it’s hard for him to let you adjust. But, you also know that he wants to be gentle, even if it’s just for a moment.

“I forgot how good you felt, jesus fuck,” you moan out.

“Please, I need to feel you move,” he begs. It’s nice, when he’s the one to beg for something.

And who are you to deny him anything he asks for when he sounds so pretty asking? You do move, entirely too slowly. You need to find your rhythm, though. Need to find some place to anchor your hands. They settle on his chest, at first, and you actually can’t believe how much muscle he has there. He’s always liked to work out. Always wanted to be in shape. This is even more than that. You’re still appreciating the way his chest feels when he grabs one of your hands. Without a word, he moves it to his neck.

“Are you sure?” you ask.

He nods. It’s been awhile since you choked him, even lightly, but it turns you on. It’s easy to see that it turns him on, too. As you apply a little bit of pressure, his fingers dig into the soft flesh of your hips. You do everything that you can to pick up the pace. To move faster on top of him. It doesn’t take very long until he’s planting his feet so that he can set the pace. He takes over the rhythm and it gets a lot harder. Bodies slapping together with each movement.

“Fuck, Cheol,” you say, trying not to scream.

You move your hand from his neck so that you have a better grip. He’s moving too fast for you to feel comfortable that you won’t press too hard into his neck. It’s insane, you know that it’s insane, but you already feel like you’re getting close again. You start to clench around Seungcheol, making the stretch feel that much more intense.

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna come if you do that,” he groans.

“Then do it,” you force out. “Wanna feel it inside me.”

“Jesus,” he groans.

Everything happens so fast. You can feel him everywhere and your body is on fire. He’s still fucking hard into you, but he’s also rubbing your clit. Helping you get there with him. Somehow, he doesn’t seem to realize you’re already on the verge of your third orgasm. Oversensitive and overstimulated. Your body starts to shake and it’s hard to keep yourself upright on top of him.

“Fuck, Cheol, I’m coming,” you hiss out.

“I’m about to come too, fuck,” he answers.

His thrusts get a lot more erratic and you feel him let loose inside you. You feel the way he moves to try and support you even while he’s working through his own release. When he stills, you collapse forward onto his chest. Breaths shallow and heavy. Your whole body’s exhausted, yet so happy at the same time. Carefully, you pull yourself off him. You’re sure a little bit of cum slides out with the loss of his cock inside you. Not that you care.

It’s several minutes of silence. Seungcheol lays on his back and you’re on your side next to him. It might be a mark of how much he really did miss you that he doesn’t flinch when you start tracing patterns onto his stomach. It’s not like you just stop being ticklish. Eventually, you realize you need to get up. The last thing you want is to go to bed crusty.

“Come on, I got lucky and I have an attached bathroom,” you say when you get up off the bed. You reach a hand to him and smile when he takes it without question.

It’s quiet again as you help clean each other up. A comfortable kind of quiet. The way it used to be. This is another favorite of yours with him. Aftercare has always been his thing. No matter how rough he is with you in bed, he’s impossibly gentle when he cleans you up. It makes your heart ache a little because you’re so fond. It’s a weird mix of feelings.

“We should sleep in my room tonight,” he says.

“We’re already here,” you point out.

“With sheets that are probably soaked,” he teases back.

“What are the chances we can get to your room without being seen?” you wonder.

He shrugs. “It’s late. Probably better than the chances nobody heard us.”

Your cheeks flush a little. Sure, you definitely tried to be quiet. You’ll have to wait until the morning to see if you succeeded.

“Come on, my room has a door to the outside,” he says.

So, you follow. You put your layers back on and grab something to sleep in. And you don’t actually see anyone before you’re safely tucked away in his room. That night, falling asleep tangled up in Seungcheol, is the best night of sleep you’ve gotten in a long time.

Morning comes and brings with it the need for an actual conversation. As you stretch in bed, you appreciate the soreness in your body with a smile. Anything you’re feeling now is surely worth it. That is, until you realize you’re in bed alone. Dread creeps in. Could last night really have meant something different to Seungcheol than it did to you? Did you just make a massive mistake? You’re starting to wonder if you’re only going to break your own heart this time, with nobody else to blame, when the bedroom door opens. Seungcheol steps inside with a thermos and a bag that looks like it might have some of the pastries Wonwoo brought back from the store yesterday.

“You’re awake,” he says with a smile. He sets down the thermos and removes his jacket to hang it up.

“I was worried you’d left,” you admit when he finishes taking off his shoes and sits next to you. His face looks hurt for a second before it settles.

“No, I just went to get coffee and figure out what we were walking into before you got up,” he says.

“And?” you prompt.

He pulls out a pastry and hands it over. “Nayeon asked where I slept last night and if I knew where you were. I don’t think she heard anything, but who knows with her? Wonwoo wasn’t in the main area, so I don’t know. They said they all knew I was following you, though.”

“Guess we can’t really avoid it,” you joke.

You’re expecting him to smile, too. Instead, his face is serious. “Do you want to? Avoid it, I mean.”

It makes you serious. Maybe a little too honest. “I don’t want to get hurt again.”

“I don’t expect you to believe me, not right away, but I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you,” he says and takes your hands in his. “If you give me another chance, I’m never letting you walk away from me again. I’ll prove that I’m worth everything you give me.”

“You’ve always been worth it, Cheol,” you tell him.

“I realize that now,” he agrees. “I also realize it’s up to you to know what you deserve and what you want. That wasn’t ever my decision to make and I’m really sorry for doing that to you.”

“It hurt, for sure, but not having you around hurts so much worse,” you admit. It’s hard to meet his eyes, even though you know you’re safe.

“It hurts so fucking bad. I hate it. Last year was the worst year of my life,” he says.

“You got a massive promotion, though! Wonwoo told me,” you say.

“This is going to sound so cheesy, but I’m done caring. That promotion didn’t mean shit without you being there to share it with,” he shares with you.

“I guess we’ll have to celebrate it this year,” you say.

His face lights up. “Really?”

“I want to give us another chance. I don’t think either of us are over it,” you acknowledge. “Last night aside, I want to take it slow. I want to take our time instead of rushing in like we did the first time around. I want to get it right this time.”

He nods immediately. “We can go as slow as you want. I mean it. I’m not letting you go again.”

“Good, because I don’t think we should wait to see if the third time’s the charm,” you joke.

“I’m glad I came this year,” he says as he grabs the thermos.

“Me too,” you agree.

It’s funny, you think, how someone can feel so familiar and yet so new at the same time. Seungcheol feels like home, like your favorite sweater, or like curling up with a book by the fire in winter. But, he feels entirely new, too. Like maybe you both changed over the past year. Maybe you both grew into the people you needed to be to love each other better. To love each other right. Later, you’ll have to break the bubble and face your friends. Right now, though, you can just appreciate that this silly little cabin trip brought you peace.

this was a lot of fun to write and i hope you liked it 💕

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formosusiniquis · 4 months

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This one goes out to that old guy I saw at walmart yesterday loading up his pioneer woman cookware onto his motorcycle while enter sandman played

steddie | G | WC: 1154

---

“Hey baby, can you?”

“No.”

Steve's sweet tone sours immediately returning to the much more familiar gently bitchy tone Eddie knows and loves. “You don't even know what I was gonna ask.”

“Twenty-five years of marriage, lawful and not, Sunshine. I know when you're about to ask me for some shit we don't need.”

“Why would I be calling you if we didn't need it?”

“Because if you needed it you would have told me about it when I said, ‘Stevie, sweetie, light of my life, sun to my dawn,’” he looks around trying to figure out where the hell they moved the oranges and why the produce section is never in the same configuration anytime he comes here. He makes eye contact with a kid wearing an artificially faded printing of his own tour merch looking at him with a starry eyed look of recognition not of the celebrity but of family.

“Did you forget where you were going with that old man?”

He decides he might as well put on a show, both halves of this conversation already know he's going to do what he's told. “‘Stevie, my one truth north, my muse, my reason to continue living, my dearest husband, I'm going to Walmart,’ I told you not but thirty minutes ago and asked if you needed me to get you anything and you said no.”

“Oh, you aren't going to monologue for your adoring public all the sweet names I called you?” Steve is amused, he can tell, he's always been able to tell. He's accepting this as his penance for not giving Eddie an actual grocery list when he left.

“Well dear heart I am in public, but if you think we can find another grocery store to go to after getting banned from this one. I guess there is the Kroger on the other side of town.” The kid laughs, tries to hide it behind their hand, but if Eddie has had anything in this life it's experience with teens eavesdropping on conversations they shouldn't be.

“Oh you're really hamming it up, huh, Teddy. Can I tell you what you're getting me yet or do you still have a couple minutes in your set?”

He's given up on oranges, moves on to the onion he actually came here for, the lone ingredient for dinner that he'd forgotten from his clicklist. If they want to actually have the roast tonight it needs to start soon. “What is it that you remembered we needed, oh song of my heart.”

“I already sent you the link so you get exactly what I want.”

It's just ominous enough of a non-answer that he pulls his phone out of his pocket, juggling it and the five things he'd already grabbed that weren't on his one item list. He doesn't have the time to regret not grabbing the cart he was sure he hadn't needed when he sees what he's been sent.

“I'm on my bike! Where am I going to put that?”

“I'm sorry, am I hearing you correctly? Was I right when I said, ‘Teddy bear, my stars, my bard-’”

“You aren't on speaker.”

“My beloved damsel in distress, maybe the motorcycle isn't the most efficient of midlife crisis vehicles. Aren't you going to want something with more trunk space, why don't you get a Caddy or a Bimmer for old times sake. And what did you say?”

“I don't recall.”

“Probably for the best wouldn't want you banned from Walmart, what would the tabloids say?”

“Nothing that would match your wit, Sweetheart. Does it have to be this one?”

“Yes, the plaid matches the kitchen remodel, so be a good boy and strap it to your bike. And remember we've still got one kid to put through school if she decides to go, don't bring home any strays with you. Do you need to do your encore now, baby?”

“I accept your quest, my dashing prince. I shall return home with my bounty posthaste.” Encore complete, audience still enraptured, Eddie dips into the sincere. It's been nearly thirty years together and he's not once ended a call without saying, “I love you.”

“Love you too, my knight in denim battle vest. I'll see you when you get home.”

The call ends with the usual dull toned beep beep, the playlist the call interrupted starts to filter back into his earbud. He realizes he's going to have to walk right past the kid to get to the side of the store with Steve's Instant Pot.

“Hear they're about to have a reunion tour,” he says gesturing down at the reprint of their Came Back Wrong Tour shirt. The faux-fading has left a crack through his own face at the bottom making him unrecognizable, not that he looks the same now as he did at 25. “Those old bands just don't know how to retire.”

“I think it's smart that they're playing up the recent tik tok fame.” The kid says, “No one's even seen their lead singer since the 90s and after their first national tour he'd started wearing that mask.”

It hurts a little bit the way the kid says 90s like it's some bygone era lost to time. Tries to appreciate instead how good the mask idea had been, he'd really been an innovator. “That was a pretty sweet gimmick, you think he'll bring it back? It's kind of Orville Peck's thing now isn't it.”

The kid slumps, managing the impressive feat of looking desolate while standing over the tomatoes. “Probably, not that I'll see it. I couldn't manage to get a ticket.”

That is something he can fix, “Here,” he manages to grab ahold of his wallet, “as luck would have it, I've got a couple spares.”

The kid looks torn between fear and elation, it's likely at least the second strangest thing to ever happen to them in a Walmart. “Oh I can't-”

“No strings, I got it through work for my sister-in-law to go with my husband. She asked why none of the good bands ever have reunion tours so… not going obviously. And my husband insists he's too old to be that close to the stage. You'd be doing me a favor really.”

“If you're sure,” they say, the hesitance more a mannered necessity than real.

“Sure as shooting. Seriously, here give me your name so my husband knows who to make the thank you note out to.”

“Aspen, thank you really!”

Twenty minutes later when he’s got a kitchen appliance bungied to the back of his bike he’ll appreciate that something good came out of this. Three weeks later when he’s standing at the front of a sold out arena he’ll mostly appreciate another chance to be dramatic, “This next one is for Aspen who didn’t laugh when an old man tried to flirt with his husband in the produce aisle. Gareth, count me in.”

#steddie #steddie fic #old man steddie #rockstar eddie munson

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ilovefredjones · 2 years

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oh dangerous to dream from the frozen broadway musical soundtrack we’re really in it now

#‘i know i’ll never see that sunny day when this trial is finally through and it can just be me and you’#‘i can’t dwell on what we’ve lost and how this secrecy and silence comes at such a cost’#‘i wish i could tell the truth show you who’s behind the door i wish you knew what all this pantomime and pageantry was for’#‘i can’t be what you expect from me and i’m not what i seem but i would love to know you is it dangerous to dream!#*’#elsa pushing anna away trying to protect her but just hurting anna more in the process #anna just. being So Confused as to why her sister isn’t who she used to know and love…… but she’s still her SISTER #i cant dwell on what we’ve lost……#jesus #cant think abt this song too long actually #i love you elsa and anna’s relationship i love you so much #anna being SAVED by her sister’s love!!!!!!! makes me CRAZY #despite everything!!!!! they still love each other!!!!!! even after elsa nearly kills her anna still loves her. they’re SISTERS #‘the only thing that can save me now is your love’……..

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formulawolff · 13 days

Text

i. alkaline - t.w.

pairing: female driver! x toto wolff

word count: 2.7k

warnings: cursing, significant age-gap, power imbalances, slow burn, eventual smut, inappropriate work relationships, mentions of infidelity, drug/alcohol use, use of common fic tropes

synopsis: as the first american female driver for formula one, you are thrust into the competitive world of racing. when you are approached by a team principal willing to make a deal, you presented with the opportunity of a lifetime.

author's note: this is my first f1 related fic, so i may have made some errors in terminology. the title is based on the song alkaline by sleep token. i recommend listening while reading! please, please, please let me know if you like the fic! i plan on making this my first f1 series :')

racing was never in the cards.

well, racing a nearly 1,800 pound car was never in the cards.

especially at speeds reaching two hundred miles an hour.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊��˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

yet, here you were, shaking james’ hand, beaming as the cameras flashed. there were a flurry of voices, all of them nearly trembling with excitement, relief, and well, hope. if you were able to accomplish eighth place today, what did that mean for the future of williams racing?

would williams be a sizable contender for the 2025 constructors’ championship? would they be able to squash the disbelief? the doubts? hell, if you kept this up, there was a chance that you could get williams into the top ten of the 2024 championship.

were you what they had been missing for so long?

were you the key to their future success?

“great job,” james’ voice is nearly hoarse, more than likely from all of the celebration, “you wouldn’t believe what they’re saying about you.”

“probably nothing great,” you scoff, rolling your eyes slightly, “i’m sure that everyone is claiming i didn’t deserve it.”

“quite the contrary,” a chuckle bubbles up from his throat, “they all adore you.”

“was it because i gave the camera the finger?”

“no,” there is a slight twinkle in his eyes, quite the contrary from what you were used to, “they love you because you’re you. there is no one in this sport who is quite like you.

there’s an authenticity that cannot be replaced. it’s obvious you have a true passion for racing. it shows on the track. good job, today.”

heat flourished into your cheeks, tears welling up at james’ words. after years of being ridiculed by team principals, attacked by fans, and bashed by the media, praise was something to be cherished. it was always welcomed warmly, your heart swelling as james brought you in for a sweaty embrace.

“thank you, james,” the words are slightly muffled as he squeezes you gently, “you know how much that means to me. thank you for believing in me.”

“of course,” james murmurs, rubbing your back ever so slightly, “great job, american girl. you deserve this. go do some interviews, flash that beautiful grin of yours, and then get some rest. you need it.”

“no partying?” you arch your brow, “i think i deserve a drink or two.”

“maybe a little bit,” another chuckle rings out, “i just don’t want to see any press about it in the morning. that’s the last thing we need after our victory today.”

“right, right,” you nod your head, saluting the principal, “aye, aye captain.”

“it’s principal,” james shoots you a wink before turning to several engineers, the group getting swept away into the chaos.

no matter how well the team did, there was always chaos after a race. it was typical, routine even. there was always the pit crew cleaning up, shouting to one another as the fans trickled out of the stands. engineers milled about, tablets in hand, murmuring to one another, pointing out aspects of the car that needed improvement. there was always some piece of the car that could be adjusted, a slight tweak or advancement. it could make the car faster, or it could only lead to inevitable disaster.

exhaling, you stroll out of the paddock, the dread of facing the press weighing down every step.

you could turn around, and hide in the paddock.

however, this was part of being a driver. simply a requirement of the job. press was an essential aspect of formula one. how else would the world know how you felt after that race? how else would information about driver contracts, car modifications, disqualifications be shared?

how else would the world have known about the first american female formula in formula one?

you had to at least thank the press for that.

even if it was shared before your official announcement that you were joining williams racing for the 2023 racing season.

“there she is!” a voice calls out, light and airy.

the corners of your lips tug into a smile as you see daniel ricciardo jogging towards you. before you know it, his arms are wrapping around your frame, holding you tight. he’s sweaty, per usual, but you accept the gesture, suppressing a giggle as he sways you back and forth.

“i knew you could do it! i knew you could do it!”

“don’t puncture her lungs, please,” another voice chimes in, “i would like to keep her around, you know.”

daniel releases you promptly, placing a swift peck on your cheek, “no need to fret alex. i’m not that mighty.”

“i’m more worried about contracting any diseases from the land down under,” scrunching your nose, you wave your fingers at daniel, earning yet another laugh from the australian.

“the only disease you’d contract are my insanely good looks.”

“here we go again,” alex rolls his eyes, “are we ready to face the press or what?”

“i think so,” daniel shrugs, “go ahead, alex. we’ll follow you.”

alex shoots you an inquiring glance, but begins to walk in the direction of the conference room. once he was a reasonable distance away, daniel clears his throat.

“someone seemed a little jealous.”

“i wouldn’t say jealous,” you can’t help but defend alex, “he’s probably a little bitter.”

“fifteenth place is nowhere as good as eighth,” daniel points out, the notes in his tone solemn, “he’s been there a few years and seen subpar results. you came in last year and have pretty damn good ones. i’m sure he can’t help but feel a little bit of envy.”

“maybe he just had a bad race.”

“you say that every–” daniel begins, but he’s swiftly cut off as you pull open the door to the conference room.

all around, cameras flash, reporters chirp out questions, and phones are immediately pointed in your direction. sucking in a deep breath, you settle on the couch next to daniel, max verstappen across from you. he shoots you a thumbs up, complemented with a wide smile. alex was on your right, fiddling a loose thread.

confusion consumes you momentarily once you realize that max was the only one from the podium to remain in the conference room. checo and carlos were not present. so why was he still here?

daniel passes you the mic, placing it on your lap. a shit-eating grin plasters his face, and you grimace. of course he was going to make you speak first. hesitantly, you pick up the mic, clearing your throat.

“hello, everyone. any questions?”

immediately a reporter butts in, “how does it feel to not only be one of the only women competing in formula one, but the first american woman to place in a race?”

your hand tingles as you hold up the mic, trembling slightly. public speaking was never your forte. fuck you, daniel.

“w-well,” you curse yourself for stuttering, “i take a lot of pride in the way i compete, especially as such a trailblazer for women who love the sport. i’m aware that there is a lot of unrest and outcry concerning my gender and how i’m not ‘supposed’ to be competing with the men–”

“i think she’s a worthy opponent,” max’s voice interjects, “she competes at the same intensity as we do, if not more. she is going to be standing next to me on a podium in a matter of weeks. i’ve never met someone so driven to win or passionate about the sport.

we pay no attention to her gender. it doesn’t affect us. we pay attention to her character. i do not want to speak for her, but i am sure she would appreciate it if you all refrained from the gender based questions. ask her about the race.”

as he finishes speaking, his eyes drift back to you, sparkling ever so slightly. his cheeks were tinged a pink hue from the passionate sentiment, and you couldn’t help but just sit there, frozen with disbelief.

max verstappen, three time world champion, one of the best drivers to ever step foot on a formula one track, publicly praised you. in a room full of journalists, no less.

sure, you were friendly with max. since there were only twenty drivers, most of you were close, on and off the grid. you had exchanged numerous conversations with max over the last year, but you were still a little intimidated by the dutch driver.

of course, who wouldn’t be? he was a dominant force on the track, winning nineteen of the twenty-two races last season.

so yeah, when he just did nothing but send you the uttermost praise in a room bustling with the press, you were going to a little starstruck.

“do you have any additional remarks to maxs’ comments?” a reporter snaps you out of your trance, “you appear to be a little off-put by what he just said.”

blinking, you bring the mic to your lips, “no, i actually appreciate what he said. maybe that means you guys will finally take me seriously.”

“are you under the impression that formula one does not take you seriously?”

as the reporter baits you to respond, a twinge of frustration brews in your stomach, churning it into a knot. sucking in a sharp breath, you focus your attention to the reporter.

“no, that is not what i said. it is the simple fact that i have been working my ass off this last year to be a competitive racer. i’ve worked tirelessly with williams racing to place. i’ve been trying to earn points for my team because i believe in my team and i want us to succeed. yet nearly every day i wake up, someone on social media posts some bullshit or bashes me for competing.

i’ve been making a name for myself, and look where it has gotten me. you all are more concerned about my gender than the race i just had. i think it’s a bit frivolous to be more invested in my gender than my racing. so yeah, when the three time world champion says something good about me, i would hope that you guys listen to it.”

there’s a few gasps from a few reporters, and you can’t help but notice all of the beady red lights on the cameras. of course that was all recorded. of course it was going to be blasted all over social media these next couple of days.

so much for good press.

setting down the mic, you lean over to daniel. the words are low enough so that only he can hear, “i’m done here.”

“i don’t blame you,” the aussie plucks the mic out of your hands, “get out of here. cool down. i’m sorry about that prick.”

“don’t worry about it,” you mutter, cheeks burning hot with sheer anger, “i’m leaving before i cuss them all out.”

“atta girl,” daniel winks, “i’d like to see that, though.”

“not now,” you bite your lip, “i need to bite my tongue.”

as you get up, max’s gaze is full of sympathy. alex’s mouths, i’m so sorry, disappointment painting his features. walking across the stage, daniel’s words drown in your ears.

balling your fists together, the tingly sensation resides as you march towards your motorhome. tears blur your vision, strings of curses filling the air as you walk. after that little incident in the press room, james was not going to be happy. of course, after everything you accomplished today, it was diminished somehow.

by an asshole reporter, at that.

flinging open the door to the motorhome, you resist the urge to just scream. it would not help much, but god would it be cathartic. however, there were more important things to be addressed. you needed to decompress and settle down.

as much as you wanted to celebrate with a few drinks, a shower, some comfy clothes, and your bed were more appealing.

maybe a glass of wine in bed wouldn’t hurt.

as you unzip your fire suit, a knock at the door disturbs the silence.

shit. just as you were finally getting settled.

groaning, you spin on your heel, making your way to the door.

“daniel, i swear to fucking god. i don’t want to talk right now–”

however, it was not daniel standing at the entrance of your motorhome.

before you was torger wolff, also known as toto wolff, team principal of mercedes-amg petronas.

donning a white team button-up, the sleeves were rolled to his elbows, showcasing his muscular build. inky black slacks were on his lower half, making him appear taller than he already was. fluffy brunette hair stood up on nearly all ends, messy from the stress and chaos of the race.

however, there was no denying he was handsome. with sharp, angular features, and wrinkles scoured in his face over the years, it gave him a powerful yet stoic aura.

like his name suggested, he was like a wolf, poised and eager to pounce.

yet, you were more focused on his eyes. a brilliant, warm, mocha-hued gaze framed by thick, dark lashes. and they were peering right at you, taking in the sight of you in your half-zipped fire suit, a black long sleeve underneath.

your eyes widen, a hand covering your mouth. sheer embarrassment courses through you, heat flooding your cheeks, trickling down your neck, “i – oh my god. um, oh my god, i am so fucking sorry.”

clearing his throat, he arches a brow, “did i come at a bad time?”

“no,” you shake your head, perhaps a little quickly, “no, no, no. please, come in. how rude of me.”

there is no readable expression across the austrian’s features, his lips pucking ever so slightly, “it won’t be long, i promise.”

swallowing a lump in your throat, you step back, inviting the principal in to the motorhome. you lead him to the kitchen, gesturing to a barstool, “you can sit here if you’d like.”

he glances at the stool, yet does not sit. your brows furrow as he remains standing. leaning against a counter, you fold your arms across your chest.

“is there a reason you stopped by?”

“as you know,” toto begins, “lewis is leaving mercedes after the 2024 season. he will be joining ferrari in 2025. to put it simply, i am on the hunt for my second driver.”

your lips purse, “i’m not sure why you came to me. you would have better luck with carlos. he’s looking for a team. i made a verbal commitment to james. i’ll be staying with williams through 2026.”

“is that so?” toto inquires, taking a step towards you, “and why are you choosing to stay with a team that limits your potential?”

the question takes you aback, “i’m not sure you what mean.”

rolling his eyes, he tuts, “williams racing is nowhere as near as competitive of a team as ferrari, redbull, mclaren, or mercedes. for years they’ve been piddling around, finishing at the bottom of the championship. yes, their drivers are talented, but they are not given opportunities to thrive.”

his comment sends another wave of anger coursing through you, your fists balling at your sides, “you have no idea what you’re talking about–”

“actually, i do. i’ve been around a long time. i’ve seen a lot more than you ever have. james is a great team principal, but you are not going to compete if you stay at williams. eventually, you’ll be like alex. you’ll finish with mediocre results. you’ll lose faith in the team who you once cherished so deeply. you’ll be ridiculed even more by the world of formula one, even more so than you already are.”

gritting your teeth, you take a step forward, “i think it’s time for you to leave.”

“what?” toto cocks his head, “did i say something you didn’t want to hear, little dove? did i strike a chord?”

“i think you’re just projecting,” you maintain your composure as the principal scoffs, “that’s exactly what happened to lewis, and you’re afraid it’s going to happen to george.”

“you’re a smart girl,” it takes a moment for you to realize how close the two of you had suddenly gotten.

he was in very close proximity now, only a few inches apart, looking down at you with a wickedly smug grin, “and i know that you’re very aware that formula one is a business. i have to maintain the mercedes reputation and acquire a driver who will bring us home podiums.”

“i think you’ll have that luck with carlos,” breaking away, your gaze settles on the door of the motorhome.

fingers grasp your chin, tilting your head upwards.

“but i want you to drive for mercedes. i want to make you a world champion.”

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆

please let me know if you would like to be tagged! thank you for reading! <3

#f1 #formula one #toto wolff #toto wolff x reader #toto wolff fanfic #toto wolff x y/n #toto wolff x you #female driver au #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 x female reader #daniel ricciardo #max verstappen #alex albon #williams racing #williams formula 1 #merecedes amg petronas #mercedes f1

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starsofang · 12 days

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Headbanger

Pairing: John Price x F!Reader Summary: John loves his goth girlfriend. TW: NSFW, MDNI, oral sex, dirty talk, p in v sex, this is honestly freaky nasty Collab with @141wh0re!! <3 Here’s her link! A/N: collab with the lovely skelly, who loves the idea of john with a goth girlfriend just as much as me that we decided to collab on it and write about it :p i do plan on writing another version of this with a dom goth girlfriend bc that idea has me going insane, but for now, i hope you enjoy this because it's a doozy. title inspired by babymetal bc i love them

You threw John into a complete whirlwind when you first came into his life. It was totally unexpected, meeting you, but what was more unexpected was how attracted he was from the very beginning. You were like nothing he’d ever seen before, painted in heavy-set makeup with thickly layered eyeliner, fluttering lashes, and that black lipstick that had him holding on to the last bit of his sanity.

Now, whenever he’d seen pretty women like you who had a love for unique clothing and makeup, always adorned in various accessories and clothing that would cause heads to turn, he often brushed it to the back of his mind because really, what would a boring, old military man like him be doing with lovely goddesses like those?

The two of you clicked though, the dynamic quickly blossoming into a relationship that had John feeling alive again. Sure, he wasn’t an old man (as much as his task force loved to label him as one), but you had a youthful spirit that seemed to smooth out the stress lines on his face from years of grueling battles and hard-earned wins. It was like you were reminding him of how to live life again, rather than let it smother him until he couldn’t breathe.

You were also teaching him that he still had it in him to pop a boner every time he was remotely in your vicinity.

You were cooking up a meal in the kitchen? Hard.

You were lounging on the couch with your feet propped up in his lap? Hard.

You were sitting in front of the mirror, humming along to a song playing from your phone while you did your makeup? Painfully fucking hard.

It was the most mundane things you did that had him nearly pouncing on you like a dog in heat, but who could blame him, really? Besides, it’s not like you minded. You were just as bad as him.

Oftentimes, you’d wear something that you knew would get him riled up. You found that his particular favorite was when you’d strap on a tight corset around your waist, especially the ones that had dainty chains hanging loosely from it. Or, when you’d wear a choker, the thick leather strapped to your neck like a dog collar. John was barely able to restrain himself when you did yourself up like that.

Just like today, you could already see him out of the corner of your eye, silently watching you with tense fists resting in his lap while you finished up in the mirror. His eyes never left you, tracing over the sight of your steady hands carving out the shape of your lips with black lipstick, nor did they leave you when you stood up to enter the closet, tugging out a few clothing options to garner his opinion.

Holding up one of the dresses in your hold to show it off to him, you pretended to ignore the way his expression darkened into something more hungry.

“You think this one will look alright for tonight?” you asked, raising your eyebrows in question as you gauged his response.

John decided it was time for you to meet his boys as he called them, the ones who kept him upright when he’d leave for an extended period of time on a mission, and you wanted to look your best. After all, impressions mattered, even more so when your style didn’t necessarily appeal to all societal standards – though, John wanted you to go as you are, unashamed of the way he could flaunt his goth-loving girlfriend like a trophy on a shelf.

John’s eyes fluttered over to the dress you held up before flicking back to you. “Mm. I like that one.”

You hummed in response, feigning ignorance to the way his voice seemed a bit more sultry, more strangled. He watched as you flipped up another dress option, silently asking for a second opinion, and the way his eyes narrowed didn’t go unnoticed. Of course, the second dress was one of his favorites, with the way it hugged your body while simultaneously cascading a nice flow of fabric that made you look even more entrancing to him. Like a goddess on Earth, and him a mere mortal who was starstruck.

“Playin’ a dangerous game here, love,” he gritted out, and you grinned at him, cocking your head.

“Your opinions are important to me, John.”

John released a breath, glancing back over to the dress, silently thinking. “That one,” he announced, jabbing his head in the direction of the second option. “So long as I can take it off of you by the end of the night.”

You raised an eyebrow at his implications, stalking over to where he sat on the bed to place the mesh of fabric down beside him. “Well, that’s always in the cards,” you mused. “Or you could be a doll and help me put it on for now.”

John groaned low under his breath, leaning back on his hands as they pressed into the soft foam of the mattress. He stared up at you with a look of adoration mixed with starved famish, and it sent heat waves through your entire body. He looked at you like you were his favorite meal while also as if you were the heavens above.

“What’s the use in puttin’ it on when I prefer you with it off?” he grumbled, hands coming up to grab hold of your hips now that you stood in front of him. He gently tugged you forward, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck, fingers carding through his hair.

“Because your boys are expecting us. Your plans, by the way,” you teased, your long fingernails gently scratching at the back of his head, eliciting a low moan under his breath.

“M’sure they won’t mind waitin’ a bit,” he grumbled. You snickered in amusement, lightly gripping his hair to tilt his head back, peering down at him with a spark of interest. He smiled up at you, hands slipping off of your hips to instead wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you to sit on his lap. “Too pretty of a woman to not want to ruin anyway.”

“I just did my makeup,” you protest, only for him to grin wider.

“That’s the whole point, sweetheart.” John leaned his head into your neck, tickling you with his beard and tracing his lips over your soft skin, pressing longing kisses along the column. You breathed out through your nose at the sensation. “Fuckin’ love the way you do it. Seeing you get all dolled up, god, makes me want to devour you. Such a pretty girl, you are.”

You let out a low hum, eyes fluttering shut as you tilted your head to grant him more access to your neck. His lips trailed along the snug leather that was seated along your neck, his hand coming up to tuck two fingers underneath it and pull you impossibly closer to him.

Chokers were one of his favorites specifically because of its uses. He’d play a game of tug of war with himself, taking advantage of the smooth collar to guide you in ways he wanted you. More importantly, he loved having it live up to the name in effortlessly choking you on occasion.

“Don’t know what a geezer like me did to settle with a woman like you,” he murmured against your skin before promptly pulling back to gaze up at you, eyes heavy with lustful desire.

John’s words sent warmth right down to your core, his praise turning you into an easy puddle of mush. You couldn’t help but shift on his lap in uncontained eagerness, lips parting as you stared at him. His eyes flickered down before leaning forward to take your bottom lip between both of his, giving a teasing suck before pulling back with a grin.

“Goin’ to let me take you, sweetheart?” His voice was hushed and alluring, breath fanning over your face. “Hm? Ruin that pretty makeup of yours just how you always like it?”

Your breath hitched and you were unable to pry your eyes away from his. His gaze was like a scorching burn that singed every inch of your skin.

“I’ll have to redo it if you do that,” you weakly argued, but he could see right through you.

“Never cared about it before,” he retorted right back, and you silently cursed him. John knew just how to rile you up and make you pliant, and unfortunately for you, it was working once again.

As if to persuade you further, he returned to his previous torment on your neck, dipping down to place them along the skin of your chest that peeked out beneath your sleep shirt you had yet to change out of. After all, it wasn’t like he had allowed you the chance to dress properly – yet.

John’s hands trailed up your sides and to your breasts, lightly groping them through the fabric of your shirt. You were a goner just from that, and there was no possible way you were going to deny his request, even if it meant being late to meeting his task force.

A protesting whine was on the tip of your tongue when he let go of them, sliding his hands back down your bottom and instead resting back on your hips, index fingers slipping underneath the hem of your shirt. His fingertips brushed along your skin, sending a shiver down your spine and an ache to form between your legs.

“Maybe just a quick one won’t hurt,” you reasoned, resulting in a hearty chuckle from him.

“Just a quick one,” he agreed before finally grasping the hem of your shirt and lifting it over your head. With your tits now free, he wasted no time in returning to circling his palms around the fat of them, head dipping down to take one of your nipples in between his lips. Upon contact, he let out a satisfied groan, sending muted vibrations through your body and causing you to whimper softly.

One of your hands tangled itself back into his hair, eagerly pressing him further into your breast, holding him there. He continued to suck greedily, occasionally taking you in between his teeth to lightly bite down, sending flutters in your stomach.

With one of his large hands keeping your breast firmly in place so he could continue his attack with his mouth, the other brushed down your nude sides, calloused fingers rough against the smoothness of your skin. They continued downward until reaching the waistline of your pants, some cute pajamas he’d given you a while back adorned with skulls (because they reminded him of you, of course).

He teased you, barely slipping his fingertips beneath the elastic band.

“John,” you whined. He pulled off of your breast with a small pop, giving you a smug look. “You said it would be a quick one.”

“Did I say that?” he hummed, pressing sloppy kisses along your chest, purposefully avoiding your perk nipples. “Sorry, sweetheart. Tend to lose a bit of my memory when I catch a glimpse of you.”

You snorted at his obvious teasing, opening your mouth to retort before you were promptly cut off by his fingers finally sliding into your waistband, eager to cup your cunt and slip up along your slit. A surprised gasp escaped you, and he grinned against your skin.

“Mm,” he groaned quietly, fingers delving underneath your panties so he could get a feel of the wetness coating them. “Don’t know how you expect me to be quick when you’re this fuckin’ wet. Makes me want to take my time with you.”

His middle finger felt through the warm slick before fixating on your clit, giving it an experimental roll. It caused your mouth to drop open, eyes fluttering. Instant heat flooded from your cunt, pulsating you with an aching burn. His ring finger joined his middle, circling your clit with a skilled routine.

“M’sure you want me to take my time, too, don’t you, sweetheart?” he asked mockingly. You gazed at him through hooded eyelids before nodding dumbly, already tipsy off of his mere touch. “Thought so.”

His pace on your clit was steady and slow. Agonizing, unfulfilling, just enough to keep you on the edge of a crumbling cliff, but not enough to have you free falling. He loved working you into a messy turmoil, slowly breaking you until you were pleading for more. Ruining you.

All thoughts of having to get proper for meeting the boys were thrown out of the window the moment he swirled your clit in delicious ways, having you squirming for more in his lap, attempting to grind down on his hand. The whole time, he wore a devilish grin, taking in the way your mouth filtered out pleased sighs and gasps, the black lipstick staining your lips only adding fuel to the fire.

He wanted to see it smeared and messy, glossed over with your spit, wanted to see it smothering his body. It was an ache he needed to relieve.

“Y’know what I really want, sweetheart?” John asked, and you hummed in acknowledgement. “To see those pretty lips wrapped around my cock.”

You moaned breathlessly, your hips lazily grinding down on his fingers as they tormented your clit. “It’s gonna stain.”

“Good.”

Much to your dismay, he removed his fingers from your pants, giving your hip a soft pat before you found yourself kneeling in front of him, his thighs spread, cock uncomfortably tight in his trousers. He leaned back, resting on his hands, staring down at your position with red hot desire. There was no mistaking his arousal from how he looked at you like you were his holy grail. He’d get on his own knees and pray to you if he could.

You eagerly fumbled with the buckle of his belt, working nimble fingers on his button and zipper. He watched with intensity, eyes focused on the black color that coated your nails with red and white designs as decoration. They were ones he paid for you to get done himself, with the exception of his initial painted on one of your fingers.

Your eyes shifted up to look at him while he lifted his hips so you could tug his pants down enough to tug him out of his boxers, and he nearly finished at the sight of you, long, fake eyelashes fluttering up at him. You were like an enticing siren, luring him into deep pools of black, dragging him down the bottomless pit. He’d happily let you, too.

John’s hand reached out to cup the back of your head, gently guiding you forward. You took in the sight of his cock, hard and thick, the tip flushed an angry red with a bead of precum pebbling at the slit. It was a mouthwatering sight.

You instinctively parted your lips to dart your tongue out, taking in the bitter sweetness of his preseed, enticing a groan from him. His fingers tightened in your hair, keeping you in a firm grip. It encouraged you to take him fully in your mouth, suckling lightly on the tip.

Allowing saliva to pool in your mouth for an easier glide, you slipped further down his cock, taking him halfway before pulling back up and releasing him. The tint of his skin was faintly colored by the lipstick you wore, but you knew John wanted more, wanted to see himself completely ruined by it.

John’s eyes fluttered down to take a look at his cock, his hand remaining in your hair. He let out a hum of approval. “Go on. Make a mess of my cock, hm?”

The tone of his voice was pure sin, sending a shiver down your spine. You wrapped your hand fully around his cock, keeping him steady to feed him back into your mouth. The taste of him burst on your tastebuds, and you found yourself seeking more of it, the mix of musk and soap from the shower he’d taken not too long ago.

Dipping your head deeper, you took as much as him as you could in your mouth before setting an easy pace. You let the hand in your hair tug you up and down, making sure to relax your throat when his hips began to shallowly buck into the sensation of your warmth.

“Fuck, look at you,” he cooed, voice raspy and heavenly. “Such a pretty girl, takin’ it so well.”

You hummed around him, and the feeling made him groan, head falling back.

The more you went down on him, the more drool pooled around your lips, dribbling down your chin. It was a messy work of art, your lipstick smudging around his cock as well as the corners of your mouth, just like he wanted. It coated him with smeared black, leaving streaks behind with every bob of your head.

His groans and grunts filled your ears like sweet melodies, becoming more strangled and raspy ghe more he succumbed to your notions. Eager to hear more, you slid further down until your nose tickled along the pubes that lined his pelvis, throat relaxing around him enough to allow him the intrusion.

“Fuck,” he moaned, gripping your hair tighter and pressing you into him impossibly closer, bucking up into you and causing you to gag. His eyes found yours from where you were swallowed around his dick, darkened with heated want. “That’s it. Take all of it.”

You were eager to please, so you continued, pulling back to suckle the tip just to fall back down to the base. His hips began thrusting up to match your pace, fucking your face while maintaining gentleness as not to hurt you (though, you wouldn’t mind that either, nor would it be the first time he did it).

You could tell from the way his thighs tensed and flexed, and the way his hand tangled your hair in a vice, that he was beginning to unravel. Heat pooled into his abdomen, his cock twitching in your mouth.

Your eyes locked with his, eyelashes fanning up prettily. Your lipstick was ruined, plastering all around his dick like a drunken painting, stalking a claim on him.

John let out a shuddered groan, hips bucking up one last time before his cum spilled down your throat, forcing you to swallow it down. It was a bitter taste that you couldn’t get enough of, greedily taking it for yourself.

You only pulled away when it became too stimulating for him, his hand guiding you off and loosening its grasp. You waited patiently for him to catch his breath, planting a sloppy kiss on his muscled thigh, tattooing a lipstick mark on it to match his cock.

“Jesus, sweetheart,” he gasped out, staring down at you with a dazed smile. His hand reached out to brush his thumb along your glossy bottom lip, smudging a bit of the lipstick further, or at least what remained of it. “C’mon, it’s your turn, yeah? God, just want to ruin you.”

You sucked in a sharp breath when he helped you stand from your knees and to your feet, only to press you right down on the mattress, bent over with your ass perked up for him.

His fingers slipped under the waistline of your pants and shimmied you out of them, leaving you bare and exposed. The sight of you caused him to sigh blissfully, a large hand groping one of your asscheeks and spreading you apart to see the glistening wetness waiting for him.

“Fuckin’ wet, aren’t you, doll? Bet you don’t even need any prep, think you can take me now?”

You whined pathetically, arching a bit more for him to admire the display, head resting comfortably on your crossed arms. You gave him a lazy nod in response, wiggling a bit more.

The pads of his fingers slid through your slick, spreading it along your puffy lips, creating an even bigger mess than before.

They didn’t linger for long before you felt the head of his cock slip through, lubing himself up with your own wetness, occasionally catching on to your clit and causing you to gasp and squirm. A firm hand smacked across your ass, drawing a whimper from you.

“Sit still. Got to make it quick, remember, sweetheart?”

You couldn’t care less about being late to meeting his force. Now that you were desperate to feel the fullness of him inside your weeping walls, it was the last thing on your mind.

Finally, the head of his cock pressed past your first ring of muscle, making your mouth drop open and the breath to get caught in your throat. He pressed more and more, filling you up until it was nearly too much, his hips rested against your ass.

“Fuck, there we go. Such a pretty thing,” he cooed, pulling his hips back just to press back into you with a shallow thrust. It was too much, while not enough. “Sorry ‘bout the makeup, sweetheart.”

You opened your mouth to reply before the words were forced back in when he snapped his hips at a more brutal pace, leaving you speechless and cockdrunk.

John took no mercy on you, meaning it when he said he’d make it quick. He fucked into you with a grueling burn of desire, jolting your body with every thrust, surging you further up the bed. When he felt you slipping away from you, he dipped two fingers under the choker around your neck from behind, tugging you back and holding you up for him to use freely, the leather digging into your throat deliciously.

You released whiny, strangled moans, filling the room with intoxicating noise that filtered through his ears and lit up a fire in his body. Tears began to form along your lash line, dripping down your cheeks and streaking your makeup in a messy trail of black eyeliner and mascara.

You looked absolutely wrecked.

“Good fuckin’ girl, look at you,” he praised, keeping his fingers around your choker but leaning over your backside so he could get a view of your face, grinning devilishly at the sight. “Beautiful.”

“John,” you gasped out, voice broken and shaky, resulting in a smug snicker on his end.

“Yeah, sweetheart? Like bein’ ruined by me, hm?”

You nodded dumbly, mind completely blank of anything other than his cock as it plunged in and out, knocking the wind out of you.

He chuckled again, tightening his grip on the choker and forcing you to arch impossibly more, slapping his hips into the plush of your ass and feeding into the red hot need you’re seeking.

The muscles in your stomach tightened, threatening to snap at any moment. It felt good, so good it had you moaning out his name without so much of a care at how loud you were being.

It only egged him on, releasing his own raspy moans and grunts. Sweat beaded his eyebrow, dripping down the side of his face as he focused on giving you all of him and more.

Simmering heat built into a bushfire, and you knew you wouldn’t be able to last long. You were teetering on the edge, and as if he knew it, he picked up the pace, causing you to clench around him, sucking him in with a tight grip.

“Yeah, just like that, sweetheart,” he groaned, smoothing his hand that wasn’t gripping your choker up your back and worming its way to your front, plucking one of your nipples between his fingertips. It sent a jolt through you, even more so when that same hand dipped down to circle your clit with his cock rutting into you.

Your orgasm hit you like a truck, mouth dropping open in a silent scream, eyes rolling to the back of your head. Your cunt squeezed around him, his hips stuttering and pace becoming sloppy at the sensation, before a long moan left his lips. Warmth flooded inside of your cunt, painting your walls white and leaving you full.

Heavy breaths left both of you, gasping for air. John slowly pulled out of you, brushing his thumb against your cunt and marveling at the white cum that threatened to seep out.

“Think we’ll still be late?” he asked cheekily, and you let out a breathy laugh, reaching an arm back to gently push him away.

You were, in fact, late. Having to redo your makeup and throw together an outfit, decorating your look with your normal display of jewelry and accessories, you ended up at the bar roughly twenty minutes after the original meeting time.

John tugged you inside, seemingly unbothered by your shared carelessness, introducing you to his boys with a proud smile. He didn’t hesitate to drag you along to the bar for some drinks after a brief conversation, hand resting on your lower back in a show of possession.

“Didn’t know Cap was into goth chicks,” Gaz muttered in disbelief, eyes staring the two of you down and taking in your unique clothing and otherworldly makeup choice.

“Shit, I might have to hop on the fuckin’ train,” Soap murmured in awe, earning a sharp kick to his shin from Ghost beneath the table.

#call of duty #cod #cod mw3 #cod x reader #john price #captain john price x reader #john price x reader #captain john price #john price smut #goth!reader #price x reader #captain price #this is nasty #cod smut

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daisynik7 · 8 months

Note

imma hit you with a twofer: extra smooth by aaliyah with geto...and gimme more by brittany spears with kishibe

Extra Smooth

Pairing: Suguru Geto x f!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~3.0k

cw: next-door neighbor Geto who is kind of an asshole, shy reader, smut – PIV sex (doggy style), cunnilingus, sex without a condom, sex toy use

Summary: Your next-door neighbor is loud, inconsiderate, and unfortunately, very hot. No matter how many times you bang on his door with another new noise complaint, he’ll continue to repeat his offenses nearly every weekend. You’re too timid to submit a formal complaint to the landlord, so you shrug it off, hoping that one day, he’ll suddenly become nice. That day comes sooner than you think, when he unexpectedly makes a visit to your apartment, discovering the real reason you need your peace and quiet.

Author’s Note: @demonwoman Mephisto! I LOVE this song and Aaliyah, honestly this was so perfect for Geto. Thank you for requesting a two-fer for the y2k karaoke party! I’ll post the Kishibe one soon. Had a lot of fun writing this, and I hope you have just as much fun reading it! Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciating, thank you for reading! MDNI divider by @/cafekitsune.

part 1 of to all the boys who live next door anthology series

Even with your headphones in, music on high, you can still hear the loud bass reverberating through the shared wall of your apartment. You remove one of the buds in your ear to press it to the plaster, listening carefully to your neighbor having another party next door. Rolling your eyes, you save the document on your screen before shutting your laptop closed, quickly putting on a pair of mismatched sweatpants and sweater. This isn’t the first time you’ve had to go over to Suguru Geto’s apartment to ask him to lower the volume. You did it last weekend, and the one before that, even twice last month. It isn’t fun for you to be that person, but the intense bass that rattles your bedroom walls really is distracting. You thought that after the first two times you complained, he would be more conscious of it. Nope, still noisy and obnoxious as ever. The problem is you’re too chicken shit to make a formal complaint to your landlord. Of course he isn’t taking it seriously, not from his timid, home-body neighbor next door. Why should he when it’s only you that it’s bothering?

You slide into your fuzzy slippers and make your way out into the hallway, closing the door shut behind you. A few steps and you’re in front of Geto’s, knocking three times. You can hear people chatting and laughing from inside, not responding. You wait another couple of seconds before forcefully pounding on the door with your fist, finally getting a reaction. The chatter hushes and soon, he reveals himself, answering the door with a tight grin on his face, clearly annoyed. “What can I do for you, neighbor?” he grits through his teeth, still maintaining a forced smile.

You cross your arms over your chest, suddenly insecure in his presence. There’s no denying it; he’s an attractive man, tall and lean beneath tight-fitting clothes. Long, black hair drapes down his back, a portion of it wrapped in a loose bun, loose strands falling before his handsome face. And sure, maybe sometimes he crosses your mind while you’re in your bedroom, playing with the toys you have currently hidden away in your nightstand. But that’s as far as it goes: fantasy. In reality, your next-door neighbor is an asshole.

“Could you please lower the volume of your music? It’s really loud.” You decide not to bring up the other incidents from the past, not wanting to aggravate the situation any further.

He grins at you, disingenuous, definitely irritated, but trying not to show it. “Sure. I can do that. Anything else?”

You shake your head, muttering a quiet, “Thanks.” You glance at the people inside, who stare at you, snickering to each other.

“Nice slippers, by the way,” he taunts, before slamming the door shut. There’s an uproar of laughter from inside, and you retreat back into your home, irked by his attitude. It’s not that hard to be considerate of others, right? So why is he making this so much more difficult than it needs to, making you feel like the asshole? You shake it off, trying not to let it bother you. He actually does lower the volume, so you’re satisfied, despite the unnecessary insults you hear from the other side. God she’s so lame. She’s home alone on a Friday night, what do you expect?

With another roll of your eyes, you open your laptop, resuming where you left off. Your fingers type away at the keys fluidly, your concentration regained, hating yourself a little bit for what you’re about to type, especially after what just happened:

Yeah, you want this cock, don’t you?

Been hungry for it this entire time, huh?

[clothing rustling]

Well, go ahead. Come get it. Use me like you’ve always wanted to.

[spits into hand, starts stroking his cock]

I’ll be a good neighbor to you from now on. The very best.

~~~

You finish the script past midnight, falling asleep before you get a chance to proofread and edit it. There’s no title yet, though you have a vague idea of what you want it to be. Saturdays, you’re usually out with friends throughout the day, so you decide to finish the rest of it once you’re back home from dinner tonight. Before you leave, you type a quick title at the top of the page: [M4F] Your Hot Asshole Neighbor Finally Decides to Be Nice to You.

This isn’t the first script you’ve written. Last month, you tried your hand at it and it got picked by one of your favorite nsfw voice actors. The thrill of hearing their deep voice moaning the words you wrote motivated you enough to work on another. The commission payment is an added bonus. With your full-time job occupying your week, weekends are the only free time you have to write, especially Friday nights. That’s why you need your concentration; and that’s why Geto’s loud music bothers you so much. You can’t completely hate him, though. After all, he’s the inspiration behind this latest piece, though you will never admit that to him. Ever. In fact, this entire gig you’re doing is a secret only for you to harbor. Not even your closest friends are aware that you’re doing this as a hobby.

The document sits temporarily forgotten on your laptop while you galivant with your besties throughout the day. After a delicious dinner together, they drop you off to your apartment, where pour yourself a glass of white wine to sip on in your pajamas while you edit your naughty script at the dining table.

You’ve read it twice through, starting from the top for a third review when there’s a knock on your door. You check your phone, searching for a text from a friend who might be stopping by, but you see none. Confused, you tip toe in your fuzzy slippers to look through the peephole, surprised to see Geto standing on the other side.

You open the door, greeting him hesitantly. “Um, hi.”

He nods, hands in his pockets, giving you a quick scan before speaking. “Hey. I, uh, locked myself out. The landlord isn’t going to be back until an hour or so and I’m too cheap to call a locksmith right now. Is it cool if I just hang out in here while I wait?”

You consider this carefully, still in disbelief that this happening. You can’t just kick him to the curb and refuse, especially when it’ll only be for a short while. Deciding to let bygones be bygones, you agree to help him, opening the door wider to let him through.

“Thank you,” he mutters, stepping inside. “Do you want me to take my shoes off?”

“Yes. I think I have some slippers for you. I’ll be right back.” You rush to your bedroom, searching for a pair of slides that he can use in the meantime. It takes a while to find them, buried under a pile of junk in your closet. Before you head out to meet him, you quickly put a bra on, acutely aware that he might have caught sight of your nipples peeking through the thin layer of your shirt. It doesn’t matter, though; he doesn’t think of you in like that anyways. You’re just his lame, lonely neighbor next door, right?

You return, looking towards the couch, expecting to see him sitting there. To your horror, you catch him at the dining table, seated where you previously were before he arrived, staring at your laptop screen.

“Hey!” You hustle towards him, slamming it shut with enough force to rattle the table.

He glances at you, cheeks red, an odd expression on his face. “What was that?” he asks, pointing to the computer.

You snatch it away, storing it in one of the kitchen drawers, desperate to hide it as if the damage hasn’t already been done. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

He stands up, lips parted, trying to find the words to say. “That was…I’m pretty sure it said…Is that about me?”

Your skin is sweltering now, beyond freaked out and unsure how to fix this mess. Is it better to lie and try to chalk it up as one big joke? Or should you be honest and hope he’s understanding about it? Either way, there’s no turning the clock back. He’s already read something, and it’s not going to be leaving his mind anytime soon.

You decide to tell him the truth, as best as you can explain it. “Okay, I know it’s weird, but I write these types of scripts for voice actors to perform. It’s just a little part-time hobby I have, and I even get paid for it. Sure, it’s a little risqué, but it’s nothing illegal, okay?” He continues to stare at you, expression relaxing just the slightest bit.

“Also, it’s not about you. Maybe it’s a little bit inspired by you, but it’s definitely not about you. Not exactly,” you add, uncertainty laced in your voice. This is even more mortifying than you expected it to be. Is it too late to break the lease on your rent and move across town?

It’s quiet for what seems like forever. He doesn’t respond, contemplating your explanation silently to himself. Eventually, he takes a couple steps towards you, reaching behind to slide the drawer open, pulling your laptop out. You’re frozen, stunned by his close proximity, anticipating his next move. Finally, he says, “I want to read the rest of it.”

“What?”

He smirks, tension easing from his shoulders as he sits down, taking a swig from your wine glass. “I want to finish it. It was getting good before you stopped me.” He opens your laptop screen, the document appearing exactly where he left off.

You bury your face in your hands, taking the seat beside him, groaning. “I can’t believe this is happening right now.” You refill your glass almost to the brim with wine, taking a large gulp of it before passing it to him.

“Did you really think you could keep something like this a secret? This is pretty wild,” he chuckles, tipping it into his mouth, at the same spot where you did.

“I didn’t think you’d be the first person to find out, though.” You take a deep breath, preparing yourself for whatever is about to unravel from this.

“Fair enough.” He scans the words, reading each one meticulously. “So are these lines supposed to be, like, what the voice actor says? It’s just them talking?”

“Yup.”

He giggles, blushing. “Okay, so, we’re pretending that I’m the asshole neighbor. Got it. Are you sure this isn’t about me?”

“It’s inspired by you. Inspired,” you reiterate, swallowing a large gulp of alcohol.

He bites his lip, hiding his smile. “Okay. Um, so it says here in the bracket that there’s knocking.”

“That’s the cue for sound effects.”

“Got it. So,” Geto knocks thrice on the surface of the dining table, reading, “What can I do for you, neighbor? Oh, you want me to turn the volume down? Is it too loud for you again? This is totally about me!”

You can’t help but laugh, shrugging. “Maybe it’s a little bit about you.”

He hides his smile behind his hand, swearing under his breath. “Shit, okay.” He clears his throat before continuing. “I’m sorry for being so noisy these past few weeks. Do you think you could ever forgive me? Do people really get off on lines like this?”

“Just keep reading it!” you yell at him, playfully kicking him beneath the table.

“Okay, okay! Ahem. I think I know exactly what I can do to make it up to you. I know you like me, even though I’m such an asshole. Think you can forgive me for just one night?”

You clench your thighs together, concealing the arousal growing between your legs. You’ve always thought he had a sexy voice but paired with the script and knowing what’s about to come, it’s hard to control your desires.

His voice is hushed now, low and sultry. “Yeah? That’s what I thought. You want this cock, don’t you?” Geto swallows thickly, pausing to catch his breath. “Been hungry for it this entire time, huh?” There’s a blush in his cheeks again. He shifts in his seat, hands down at his lap. “Well, go ahead. Come get it. Use me like you’ve always wanted to. Whoa, okay, this is…this is getting a little crazy now,” he chuckles nervously, avoiding your gaze.

Unable to resist your curiosity, you glimpse at his crotch, an obvious bulge protruding from his sweatpants, stunned that he’s hard right now. Without thinking, you scoot closer to him, placing your hand on his knee. He meets your gaze, eyes wide, lips parted.

“If you want to, we can stop,” you whisper, fingers trailing his inner thigh delicately. You can’t deny it any longer. You want him. You’ve always wanted him. And if he didn’t feel the same, he would have already been gone by now, too weirded out by your strange hobby to stick around. Yet, here he is, playing along with it, playing along with you.

You wait for his answer, resting your hand dangerously near his erection strained in his pants. “I don’t want to stop,” he says, spreading his legs wider for you. “l want to be a good neighbor to you from now on. The very best.”

~~~

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” he pants, stripping his clothes off hastily as you watch him, already naked on your bed. When he’s finished, he hovers over you, relishing the sight of you beneath him.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down for a passionate kiss, tongues swirling around each other’s sloppily. “You’re sure you want to keep going?” you ask between smooches.

He laughs, sucking on your bottom lip. “I’m not stopping this for anything. Are you sure you want to keep going?”

You nod at him, guiding his hands to your breasts. “Absolutely.”

He pinches your nipples until they’re perky and you’re whining in ecstasy, rutting your hips against him, desperate for friction. He slides down, leaving a trail of kisses along your body until he’s at your arousal, tongue lapping at your clit. You squeeze his head between your thighs, his mouth pressed firmly to your cunt, slurping at your juices. “Fuck, Geto. Feels so good.”

“Suguru,” he muffles, lips latched to your swelling bud. “Call me Suguru.”

You run your fingers through his hair as he eats you out, tugging at the strands when you reach your first orgasm, gushing all over his face. He licks you slowly as you come down from your high, flicking the tip of his tongue on your sensitive bud. He reaches down to stroke his cock, stiff in his fist and leaking with precum. “Fuck, you taste amazing. So fucking pretty when I eat out this sloppy cunt. Can I fuck you now, sweetheart? I want to make you come around my cock.”

You roll over in bed, spreading your ass cheeks for him. “Yeah, fuck me, Suguru. Fuck this wet cunt.”

He wipes the sweat beading on his forehead, jerking his cock feverishly in his other hand. “Fuck, I knew you were a slut, I just knew it,” he huffs, slapping his dick on your ass, rubbing it slowly between the soft flesh of your cheeks. He guides himself inside you, stretching you out little by little until you swallow him up completely. He starts thrusting, his motions extra smooth from your previous orgasm. “All those nights, I listened to you touch yourself with those vibrators. I’d stroke my cock with you, come whenever you did. Your little whimpers are so fucking sexy, especially when you try to hide them. You have no idea what you do to me.”

You’re too fucked out to process his confession, throwing your ass in tandem with his thrusts. His grip is tight on your waist, fucking you like you’ve never been fucked before. Suddenly, he pulls out, pussy fluttering around nothing, eager to be stuffed gain. You whine, craning your neck to glare at him while he gives you a naughty smirk, reaching for your nightstand. “Are they in here? Your toys?” He searches it blindly, retrieving one of your favorites, clicking the button to activate it, buzzing in his hold. “Use it while you use me.”

You obey his request without question, holding the vibrator against your sensitive clit as he pushes himself back inside you, pounding away at your cunt. You climax twice more around him, completely spent now, brain like mush, letting the toy fall off the bed, slippery with your cum. He laughs at your docile expression, pulling out to bury his face back into your pussy, licking off all the cum smeared over you, determined to make you come again. When you do, he crawls up the bed, a satisfied smile on his face, straddling you while he pumps his cock in his fist. After a couple strokes, he shoots onto your tits, covering them in his pearly cum, moaning your name.

He helps you clean it off, grabbing several tissues from the nightstand, wiping your chest dry. You scoot closer to the wall to make room for him, snuggling beside you with his mouth grazing your forehead, giving you a smooch.

Thinking logically again, you recall his confession from earlier. “Can you really hear me through these walls?”

He chuckles. “Yeah. But only if I’m listening really carefully.”

“And did you really…?”

“Yeah. I did,” he admits, blushing. “Sorry. I guess I’m kind of a pervert.”

You giggle, nuzzling into his chest. “Well, what does that make me then? Who’s the one who wrote filthy scenarios about you?”

“I thought you said it was only inspired by me?” he teases, cuddling you closer.

“It was totally about you, okay? I just never thought it’d actually happen.”

He massages your back lovingly. “Aren’t you glad it did?”

You peer up to smile at him. “Yeah. I am.”

~~~

The following weekend, there’s another noise complaint. This time, however, it’s you receiving it from your neighbor on the other side, complaining about how loud you and Geto are while having sex.

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