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sterredem · 4 months

Text

GIRLFRIEND?!

Olivia Rodrigo x Fem!Ferrari!Driver!Reader

Face claim Pinterest girls

Warning Gay couple(?), not proofread

Summary When you try to hard launch your relationship it seems to be that no one believes you.

Part 2

A/N I like this a lot. It is a bit lengthy but I love it. Also I removed Carlos Sainz because I needed a place and Ferrari was the best with the options. So the reader will replace him.

Also I tried something new with writing for a girl so lmk know if you want more fem!driver x famous girl fics!

I hope y’all like it!

Don’t forget to Repost, comment and give Feadback! It helps a lot!

Instagram

Liked by Yourusername and 6.835.836 others

OliviaRodrigo Thank you so much Antwerp you were a dream! Amsterdam here we come!

View all 10.836 comments

Conangray She’s on the moon!

OliviaRodrigo 🌕🌙

SabrinaCarpenter Pop princess

OliviaRodrigo Says you

Yourusername Wow what a beauty

Yourusername Loved seeing you! Liked by author

User1 I GOT TO SEE YOU!

User2 Anyone saw Y/n’s deleted comments?!

User3 OMG YES! I THOUGHT IT WAS JUST ME!

User4 god, she’s hot

User5 Wait Y/n went? How she has a race tomorrow?!

User6 multitasking queen

User7 I love you💜

User8 I love her friendship with other singers💕

User9 How does she know Y/n? I am genuinely curious because I love them both.

User10 They met through Gracie because Gracie and Y/n went to the same school and then Gracie introduced them. Now they are really good friends

User12 I LOVED THE SHOW!

User13 you killed it!

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Instagram

Liked by OliviaRodrigo and 2.736.936 others

Yourusername Had a great time at the GUTS Tour! Thank you so much for the invite liv!Also some pictures with Ferrari stud bc I drive cars or something…

View all 12.836 comments

OliviaRodrigo I’m glad you enjoyed it! Liked by author

OliviaRodrigo You are so hot

Charles_Leclerc …Driving cars or something????

Charles_Leclerc also don’t we have a race tomorrow?

Yourusername Yes! But I can multitask!

Scuderia_Ferrari … were glad you enjoyed your time…? And good that you wore the jacket and posted your car…?

Yourusername Exactly!

User1 OMG YOU ARE A LIVIE?!

Yourusername YES! Always and forever!

User2 LIV?!?! WHAT IS THIS?!

User3 OMG I STOOD NEXT TO YOU!!

User4 Love the outfit!

User5 anyone see Olivia’s deleted comments liked by 1.837 others

User6 Not the thing about the cars😂 so unserious🤣

User7 I love you!

User8 Aren’t you tired? You have media day tomorrow and the day after FP1 and FP2

Yourusername As I said ✨multisasking✨

User9 I love her friendship with Olivia!

User10 SHE WENT TO THE TOUR?!

User11 she really is a girls girl

User12 not the work with fun😂

User13 IM IN LOVE WITH YOU!

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Instagram

Liked by OliviaRodrig and 1.173.736 others

Yourusername Forza Ferrari! A little photo dump of Imola before Monaco. Saw a lot of red, but it suits me so that’s a plus.

View all 9.736 comments

Scuderia_Ferrari Forza Ferrari!

Charles_Leclerc Red!

User1 gorgeous

User2 Why is Olivia liking a post that has nothing to do with her?!

User3 prolly because they are friends

User4 Good luck in Monaco!

User5 ❤️

User6 P5! In the points!

User7 So happy to see more women in motorsports!

User8 What do you think about Charles adopting Oscar?

User9 You’re so pretty!

User10 Red does really looks good on you!

User11 good luck this weekend!

User12 I love the GenZ energy

User13 Favourite driver ever

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Instagram

Yourusername posted a story

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Twitter

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Instagram

Liked by OliviaRodrigo and 2.836.837 others

Yourusername P3🏆 happy with the results and very happy for Charles and the team! Congratulations!

View all 9.736 comments

Charles_Leclerc couldn’t have done it without you!

Scuderia_Ferrari A grat race again Y/n!

OliviaRodrigo Great job! Liked by author

User1 P3!

User2 Great job! Ready for the next posium!

User3 Olivia is earlier than me and I have notifications on?!

User4 so true! I love their friendship!

User5 Our racing queen!

User6 💜💕❤️

User7 not her petting a picture of her and Olivia in her racing post😂

User8 she’s so pretty!

User9 She looked so happy!

User10 Anyone know why she was giggling on her phone so much?!

User11 maybe she has a boyfriend?!

User12 OMG THAT WOULD BE SO AMAZING!!

User13 Were up for a great season!

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Instagram

Liked by OliviaRodrigo and 4.736.836 others

Yourusername Had a fun time. Met this girl, she kept following me around, her name is Olivia or something… she is cool I guess. Did some cool things, visited some cool places. Being aesthetic and all…

View all 10.735 comments

OliviaRodrigo Mean?!

Yourusername Who are you again?

User1 I love their friendship your honour

Charles_Leclerc I am just going to be silent and not ask what is happening in those pictures

Yourusername That’s great

User2 the caption😂

User3 Very aesthetic indeed👍

User4 I love them😍

User6 Hotttttt

User7 Paris and Ferrari, the best combination!

User8 museum twice, painting picnic AND Paris?! What is going on?!

User9 is it just me or does this look like a date…?

User10 OMG YOURE RIGHT! AND ALSO THE INSTA STORY!

User11 Seriously? They’re just friends and they both don’t like girls

User12 they’re so pretyyyyyyyy

User13 💕💜❤️😍

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Twitter

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Instagram

Liked by OliviaRodrigo and 4.936.836 others

Yourusername I alsways love hanging out with the best people in my life. And this is an other instance of that. I loved hanging out with you @OliviaRodrigo. Thank you for being there for me💕

View all 14.736 comments

OliviaRodrigo I love hanging out with you too💕 I will always be there for you💜❤️

Yourusername 💕💜❤️

User1 Them using each other’s colours😭😭

User2 I love their friendship!

User3 awwwww

User4 they are friendship goals

User5 so pretty

User6 friendship dates are the best!

User7 so cute

User8 why does this kind of look like a soft/hard launch?!?!

User9 It really doesn’t. They are just posting about their friendship, she even said it in the caption!

Charles_Leclerc 🤦‍♂️

Yourusername shut up

User10 wait what happened?!

User11 why does this kind of look like a couple??

User12 gorgeous women liked by author and OliviaRodrigo

User13 In love with both

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Twitter

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Instagram

Liked by Yourusername and 5.735.836 others

OliviaRodrigo A little break between shows and city’s 💜💕❤️ happy to be home

View all 18.735 comments

Yourusername 💜💕❤️ liked by author

Yourusername You’re so hot🥵

SabrinaCarpenter Hope you enjoy your brake! Liked by author

User1 Friendship goals!!

User2 They are the cutest friends ever!

User3 Her wearing red is so cute! Girls supporting girls!

User4 I love them!

User5 the 5th picture🥵

User6 anyone saw Y/n’s deleted comment???

User7 I thought it was just me’

User8 Again this really looks like a hard/soft launch!!

User9It doesn’t!!!

User10 I hope you enjoy your brake! You deserve it!

User11 not her calling Y/n her home 🥲

User12 the 4th pic is so cute!!

Yourusername 🤦‍♀️ liked by author

User13 WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?!

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Instagram

Liked by OliviaRodrigo and 8.986.836 others

Yourusername I had an amazing time with MY GIRLFRIEND and I really enjoys the break. You are my person, my others half. Even if the entire word things we are just best friends EVEN WHEN WE SOFT LAUNCH AND HARD LAUNCH. I love you very much and I am very happy to have you in my life. 💜💕❤️

View all 125.736 comments

OliviaRodrigo Gorgeous girl, my girl, MY GIRLFRIEND

Yourusername always and forever

Charles_Leclerc Finally!! It took long enough!

Yourusername so true!

SabrinaCarpenter So happy for you two!

Yourusername Thank you Sab - me and liv

GracieAbrams Don’t forget you met through me!

Yourusername We could never

OliviaRodrigo Yeah cause Gracie keeps telling us

User1 I love them already

ConanGray Now I can finally post all the photos of you two!

OliviaRodrigo Please do!

Scuderia_Ferrari so happy for you two!

Landonorris does this mean I can get tickets??

Yourusername no

Lilymhe Why wasn’t I informed about this? I thought we were friends!

Yourusername we are! I’m sorry but almost no one on the grid knows! Can I make it better with GUTS tickets…?

Lilymhe …yes. You are forgiven after I have gone to the concert

OliviaRodrigo and where is my opinion in this?

Yourusername with mine

OliviaRodrigo Of course my love

Lilymhe I love y’all already

User2 ONG WHAT?!?!

User3 So they were trying to tell us this whole time???…

Yourusername yes

OliviaRodrigo yes

Charles_Leclerc yes

SabrinaCarpenter yes

ConanGray yes

GracieAbrams yes

User3 OMG HI!

User4 SO CUTE!

User5 Hottest couple for real

User6 wait so how long were you two together??

Yourusername Around 1 year. Our anniversary was on the 3 year anniversary of SOUT

User7 WAIT. so you got together on 2 years SOUR?! Cute!

OliviaRodrigo Yes!

User8 I was right!!!!!!

Yourusername and the only one at that

User9 I’m so sorry!

User10 your girlfriends hot

User11 cutest couple ever

User12 I DID NOT expect this

User13 THIS IS WHY THEY USE THE EMOJIS! Red is for Y/n purple is for Olivia and the pink hards of two is for them together! Liked by author

User13 SHE LIKED

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471 notes · View notes

devilmademewriteit · 1 year

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If You Lie Down With Me

pairing: (pre-ellie) dbf!joel miller x fem!afab!reader

summary: there’s only one guy in all of boston that can get you a morning after pill. unfortunately, on top of being a huge asshole, Joel Miller also happens to be your dad’s closest peer.

warnings: rough sex / smut (masturbation, fem penetration, oral [m receiving]) so 18+ only content; unprotected sex; light choking & restraint; light dom/sub dynamic; fem afab reader; reader has long-ish hair (that gets touched); plot-typical violence (guns, death); plot deviations (no Tess); medication ingestion; pet names (baby, sweetheart, angel); dubcon (slight intoxication, power imbalance, no explicit consent).

word count: 6.5k+

no use of y/n in this fic

alright y’all I’m baaaaAAAaack! so this is basically the other version of Dark But Just a Game that I started back when I was writing it & figured I’d finish it to get out of my hiatus. like any devilmademewriteit fic, it’s dark and nasty and deprived like meeeeeee <3 hope u enjoy !

don’t forget to reblog, check out my masterlist, sign up for the taglist, & leave any comments / feedback / & suggestions!

(ps: new part of Salvatore up next !)

—

“three times the guy I ever thought I would meet, so don't say you're over me when we both know that you lie”

— lana del rey, ‘If You Lie Down With Me’

—

Fuck.

Waking up to a racing heart, a pounding head, and a stomach swimming with nausea was never ideal, although it was always a better experience alone — when you could squint and hiss at the light slicing through the weaknesses in the drapes without hearing your groans echoed by a lower, louder, and annoyingly more pitiful voice.

Right. What was his name?

Jared? Jordan? Jermaine?

Ah, who cares.

If he’d wanted a safe place to nurse his hangover, he shouldn’t have fallen asleep in your bed. Sure, the odds of dad being conscious at this hour (especially the odds after a party like last night’s) were Kate Moss — no, Rolling Stones — slim, but the man would get up at some point, meaning that this poor J-whatever was likely sleeping through his only window of escape from certain homicide.

You whisper. You shake him gently. You gingerly tap the roundness of his bicep.

Huh — Not bad.

You congratulate last-night-you for reeling in this morning’s good-looking catch.

Still… nothing. Not a twitch. Nary a croaked ‘lemmesleep’ graces your ears.

After loosing an exasperated sigh and running through your options, you decide to take the most effective (and least girl-next-door) route. The corner of your elbow collides with his ribs, and the boy jumps up, his loose, blonde curls as wild as his eyes, searching the room for his attacker.

You want to smile at the scene, but the motion hurts your head.

“Y’gotta go,” you croak out, thumbs rubbing circles against your aching temples.

He collapses onto his back, copying your movement with his own fingers to his brow. “God. I feel like shit.”

Despite muttering your agreement, you let your eyelashes flutter closed and your weight turn you away from last night’s paramour: no use figuring out who he is after the (f)act — that just makes it personal.

After a few breaths, the boy moves back up to a shakey sitting position.

Probably sourcing for his clothes.

He reeks of booze and sex — but then again, so do you. His roughened, unfamiliar tenor climbs to barely above a whisper, “Z’something stuck on my leg… blood, or something…”

His interrupting your suffering comes as a deeply unwelcome annoyance, so you try to sort him out to clear him out: “Prolly just the condom,” you mumble, rolling back onto your shoulders, reluctantly supervising his movements.

He lifts up fully, sitting criss-cross and pulling his calf towards him.

“No,” he tries to laugh but succumbs to the nausea, settling for a low breath instead, “S’blood, dude, from beer darts — and I didn’t use a condom.”

Your eyes immediately dart over, settling on his naked, wretched, shivering form. He notices your ire and the hitching of your throat, immediately defensive.

“I asked if you wanted to.”

Unfortunately, he had. The memories of your drunken entanglement start to resurface inside your mind. “It just feels better without one.” This time, you curse last-night-you for being such a careless, inconsiderate, horny bastard.

You’re making problems for me, girl.

“J’s get out.”

J-whatever spares no time complying, collecting his few strewn belongings and staggering out the front door. Once it slides shut, so too do your poor, weary eyes.

Shit.

There goes the afternoon.

Getting your hands on condoms in the QZ was at least fifteen times easier than snatching a morning after pill. Those were a hot commodity, especially among the younger, less responsible crowds.

Luckily for you, as a member of aforementioned younger, less responsible crowds, you knew where your best chances lay in finding whatever it was you needed (if what you needed was deeply immoral or wholly illegal). Unluckily for you, that ‘best chance’ happened to be your dad’s closest and longest-running business partner: temperamental, judgemental, frustratingly competent, Joel ‘Local Asshole’ Miller.

But that could all be dealt with after another eight hours of sleep.

—

Opportunity strikes sooner than expected.

Miller’s in your living room by the time you wake up, the low rumble of his southern baritone recognizable even through the closed door. After scrambling to throw on some clothes, you press an ear to the chipping paint, hoping to determine the number of bodies gathered in your home.

Not many. Just Miller (and the old man, of course).

The latter’s presence bodes ill for you. This would all have to be done in secret, which was not an uncommon strategy where ever the former was involved. No one dealt with Joel Miller to conduct clean-cut, wholesome activities. No one was calling him up for a spare copy of the holy book.

No, getting him alone was essential.

A drink slams down on the counter. After a good, patient ten minutes, you hear your father (‘s rather crude way of) excusing himself to the washroom and heavy-set footsteps decrescendoing down the hall.

This is it.

You slip through the door.

At first, your company takes no notice of you, his eyes still glued to the maps and papers littering the counter before him.

Then, a low grumble: “fun night?”

His voice makes you weak in the knees — an involuntary, near ritual-like response you’d noticed around your mid teens and hadn’t managed to kick yet.

You swallow before responding. “Yes.”

It’s all you manage to muster. Miller finally looks up, wincing slightly as his back straightens. He looks tired, at least more than usual, with his wild, grey-streaked hair tousled and the lines by his mouth cutting deep into his skin.

You’re sure you don’t look much better, a suspicion proven by the man’s slowly spreading, barely-noticeable smirk. That gaze makes you self conscious, mute; your right hand snakes up, absent-mindedly dragging a fallen bra strap back to its proper position.

“So, what was his name?”

He’s teasing, sure, but Miller was there last night. He’d always had sharper perceptions than your father did, especially — and ironically — when it came to you. That skill tended to squander your confidence as the daughter of a modern-day mafia-boss and the owner of a hard, violent heart.

Rushed by the sound of your father’s footsteps, you default to honesty.

“I don’t remember.”

“Try.”

“Josh.”

Amusement flits across his stern expression. “Again.”

“Jamie.”

“Warmer.”

“J-J-something—”

“Gettin’ colder, sweetheart—”

“I need the pill.”

It just tumbles out, an exasperated, desperate plea. Miller, a bit taken aback by your candor, drains of his previous playfulness. You almost notice the split second those dark eyes glaze over. For a second, you’re almost convinced he’s distracted by his imagination’s recreations of the act that had you making such a request.

You almost notice the tingling between your thighs.

He stares. You stare back.

Fuck.

It was moments like this that made you wish Tess was still around. Oh, she wouldn’t be any kinder — no, not at all — but she’d certainly be more professional. Tess was all work, no play. Joel was…

You’re enjoying this, you bastard. You’re enjoying that I’m cornered like this, aren’t you?

The bathroom handle clicks when it turns, and your heart drops into your toes.

Maybe Miller really wasn’t going to help you. Maybe he didn’t have the pill and you’d just embarrassed yourself for nothing. Or, maybe he did, but preferred outing you to your dad at the very first opportunity — letting him deal with you the only way he knew how.

Your fears seem confirmed: his eyes leave the grace of your own, trailing back to his big, splayed hands on the countertop. Unwelcome tears burn the corners of your eyes as the panic begins to set in, as footsteps begin to fall…

“Mine. Tonight.”

It’s low and rushed, but it’s clear, cutting off to the sound of your father lumbering in. A man who saw, thought, and lived through transactions, he’s (thankfully) blissfully ignorant of the tension collapsing around him.

“Morning,” he throws your way.

A taunt, of course — it was well past noon.

You nod in acknowledgement, slowly backing into the doorway of your sacred, beckoning room. They resume their conversation from before, letting you sink into irrelevance.

Before shutting yourself in, you catch a few of Miller’s hushed words. They’re spoken casually to your father but, you later decide, surely meant for you:

“Not that one kid — Jeremy — don’t trust him.”

The door seals (well, not seals… it creaks on its rusty hinges and squeezes into its shrinking frame), and relief courses through you, reaching the very tips of your fingers.

That only lasts a minute.

Soon, you’re negotiating with the rising anxiety of being at Miller’s place alone, asking for his help with a problem that could’ve been avoided if you’d only kept your legs shut.

Alone with Miller, the both of you knowing that you hadn’t.

Crawling back under your covers, you begrudgingly make a vow of celibacy. If this was the cost of attention and a (potential) mid-range orgasm, you were about to become very frugal.

Dreams come easy, but they don’t come sweet.

Flashes of last night’s sins overlay Joel Miller’s unintelligible speech, his voice from the next room over lulling you into a rather confusing, disturbed sleep.

—

At nighttime, it’s a short walk to his building.

Down this alley, past this street, up this back stairwell. Part of being in with Boston’s seedy underbelly gained you access to the best and most up-to-date intel; by the age of twelve, you could run the safest — well, least policed — post-curfew routes from memory.

(Which had come in handy in situations a lot more dire than this.)

Sneaking in was easy, although you cursed him for being so preoccupied during the day. Coming in at this hour required some delicate maneuvers through a half-shattered window, and a less-than-graceful leap down left you with a nick on your cheekbone and a shallow cut along the side of your hand.

Thankfully, the blood mostly dries on your walk up the six or eight or ten flights of stairs. You don’t resent the exercise; it feels good to move, putting the jitters building in every still moment in abeyance.

Still moments like the kind that passes after a barely-audible, coded knock delivered by a girl sucking on the side of her hand, almost wishing for the door not to open.

It does.

He’s in jeans — dirty jeans, dusty — and a simple flannel. It’s Miller — it’s Miller at his most Joel-Miller-like-ness.

So why am I so fucking nervous?

He holds the door open, brows knitting at the sight of your hand in your mouth.

“Window,” You offer.

He mouthes a silent ‘ah,’ before leaning forward to duck his head out the door and, in the process, somewhat sandwiching you against his chest.

Maybe it’s because he smells like forest-fires, but your skin burns red-hot.

Miller looks both ways, checking the status of the hall (empty), then nudges you into the dim light of his place with the weight of his hand against your lower back.

The door shuts behind you.

You’d been here at least a million times before, but the thoughts rising now feel so… new. The jacket strewn on the side of the sagging sofa is his — Joel Miller has sat at this table and showered, slept, fucked inside these walls.

Cut it out. It’s just ‘cause you’re alone. And older.

But what about it, now that you were alone and older?

Old enough to know what goes on between a man and a woman and a little bit of desperation at just the right amounts… and there sure was a lot of him, and some desperation, too…

“Nervous?”

Your feet hit the floor, all thoughts evaporating at the sound of his word. Blushing, you try to de-code his taunt, spoken with playfulness and too much condescension.

“Wh — what’d you — nervous for what? No.”

He’s already across the room, sifting through a box of miscellaneous items. A yellowed lamp shade catches his side-profile, illuminates the smirk spreading across his face. Then, a low command:

“Relax,” and your spine settles, acceding to his wish. “Some girls get nervous, y’know, takin’ it the first time.”

Oh.

You clear your throat, daring to take a step into his place, incensed enough to trace the indents and stab-marks decorating his kitchen table.

“No.”

You’re taken aback by the accuracy and the strength underpinning your answer. It’s true, you aren’t afraid, and hadn’t been afraid of much in a very long while.

What’s a Joel Miller to your best friend’s public hanging? What’s he to a dozen rows of semi automatics raining down on your zigzagging toes? What’s he to a period cramp?

Like a bolt of lightning hitting you in the chest, that cocky, gauche and indelicate rebel you’d grown into reappears.

“I’ve been told I take things pretty well my first time.” The tension rises — this time, at your command — just as Joel does, carrying a leather pouch in his right hand. “And it’s not, anyways,” you add for good measure.

The leather drops onto the marked-up table. Joel crosses his arms.

“Not sellin’ me on givin’ you one of these, sweetheart.”

He gestures to the bag.

A mock-frown as you draw closer to him. His eyes, although severe, reflect the playfulness dancing in your own.

“Why not?” You ask, voice dripping with false innocence.

Joel’s gaze doesn’t stray as it hardens, focused on your own. “They’re for accidents, mistakes, attacks,” he explains, deep and dangerous, “Not girls who can’t keep their pretty lil’ legs together.”

Oof.

On one hand, it sounds like he’s genuinely chastising you for your careless behaviour. But, on the other, he sounds jealous, taunting, hungry.

I’ll play that hand.

Sleeping all day had left you wide awake, and that long-time, school-girl crush on the man before you was dying for content to fantasize about. Even if he pushed you off, you’d get to feel the weight of his hands on your body, right?

So, you return with a taunt of your own: “You think my legs are pretty?”

He shakes his head, his signature scowl spreading as he mostly ignores you. “I think you should at least use condoms,” a breath, “N’ know their first names.”

Ouch.

“I usually do.” you murmur, “and it broke last night.”

“Bullshit.”

“What do you mean, bullshit?”

Joel sighs and lowers himself into one of the four old, rickety chairs lining the table. His hand comes up to his temples and you notice how his legs, exhausted, part.

The man doesn’t deign to respond.

Irritation begins to well in your core, sneaking through your arms and up into your throat. The muscle in your jaw must be twitching like crazy.

How does he know? How the fuck does he always know?

Across the QZ, as a skilled liar and born and bred bandit, people tended to hold whatever image of you that you’d crafted for them.

Not Joel. Never Joel.

He saw through you in a way that had always felt… intimate. It was one of the reasons, you guessed, he didn’t dare spend too much time alone with you and why you’d always been curious about him (as a man, of course). Now, there was no avoiding your obvious vulnerability from either of you — you were stripped bare, your dressings in his hand.

It makes you want to flee as much as it makes you want to leap into his arms.

You snatch up the pouch, opening it up to find a mass of differently coloured and shaped pills. Rifling through, you ignore Joel’s stare boring into your hands’ erratic search.

“Yellow ones,” he says.

“I know what they look like,” you retort.

“‘Course you do.”

He moves faster than he should be able to.

One moment, your palm is slicing through the air, headed straight for the highest point of his cheek. The next, you’re facedown on the table. Your attacking hand is caged in by a much larger, much stronger one, pinned to the decaying wood; the other, he pins behind your back. Pills litter the floor — Joel’s boot crunches into a wayward one as he adjusts himself behind you, leaning over your struggling, smaller frame, immobilizing you with his weight.

“Let go of me—” you hiss, words smothered by the wooden surface pressed to your profile.

“—Shut up ‘n listen,” he commands, leaning over to tower over his trapped victim. “Try that again n’I’ll do worse’n kill you. Understand?”

Despite the authenticity of his threat, a strangled laugh wracks your lungs.

“Gonna turn me in for contraband, Miller? Watch them gun me down in the square?”

You smile through your heavy breaths. There, behind your hips, is a growing movement indicative of some other kind of punishment he’s got in mind.

“Or,” you continue on coyly, “Give me another reason to need that pill?”

Joel pauses, untangling your meaning.

Then, an exasperated scoff. His hold tightens on your wrist and you wince. “You always thinkin’ of the fastest way to get a man to fuck you?”

“Only when his cock’s pressed against my ass.”

He goes quiet — only for a moment. Somewhere outside, rounds echo through the night.

“Z’that what you want?” His voice is deep and threatening, promising of the kind of hard, mind-numbing fuck you’d been craving for weeks.

After a hard swallow, you nod, catching the raise of his eyebrows in your periphery.

A moment passes as he mulls over your answer. Only your shallow, anticipatory breaths populate the quiet space.

“Alright.”

And he lets go.

Heart racing, wrists aching, you flip around to his neutral, impenetrable expression.

“Get down on your knees.”

Without taking a moment to decide whether you’re living anything more than just a really fucked up dream, you sink to your knees, folding your hands in your lap (to stop them from shaking). Before you, Joel’s bulge twitches while he watches you yielding to submission, and you try to ignore the excitement building between your own two legs.

His eyes burn into yours: black, starved, weighty. He tells you to shut your own and you do, unable to resist the tone of his command. Within the self-imposed darkness, Joel’s following order — ‘open your mouth,’ — parts your lips as if they were under his spell. You wonder what you must look like to him, needy and ready to receive whatever you’re given.

He speaks again.

“Show me your tongue, angel.”

The gruffness punctuating his arousal doesn’t let you stand a chance. You let your mouth fall open wider.

Next, there’s rustling. You try to remember whether or not he’d had on a belt, listening and failing to hear the soft clinks of a buckle coming undone.

Too soon, something wraps around your chin — thick, calloused fingers — and the pressure of a thumb running down the middle of your tongue sends a rush of electricity down every stacked vertebrae. It’s slow, tantalizingly slow, as if the man were trying to memorize the feel of every groove, ridge, and bud on his leisurely way out.

When Joel drops his hand, a small weight remains at the back of your throat.

“Close.”

You do, opening your eyes to meet his own: severe and wanting — or wanting for severity?

It’s a pill. That much is obvious once the taste begins to spread, bitter and chemical and totally gag-worthy. He follows up with ‘swallow’ for his own sick enjoyment; by the time he says it, it’s clear that you already have.

What kind of game is this, Miller?

Your cheeks burn when your company kneels down. He places his big, broad hand partly on your neck, partly to the side of your jaw, and you’re still too taken aback to tear it off. The feel of his rough palm against your racing pulse silences every urge to enact revenge. Words don’t come — too quickly forgotten on one’s knees.

“You’re way too easy for your own good, sweetheart,” he near-whispers, shooting to kill in a blow packed tight with condescension. “Don’t let me see you here again.”

And that’s it: your cue to get lost.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Miller pulls away from your reddening skin, straightening to stand. You follow suit soon after, heart pumping lead, tongue bruised by the memory of his touch (more overwhelming than the metallic residue dripping down your throat).

He turns, running a few fingers through his hair. It’s the last look you get before resigning yourself to the journey back home.

Still, before turning the rusted handle, in a brief moment of respite, of clarity, you seize the final word:

“I’m only ‘easy’ when I’m drunk. Or interested.”

Silence courses through the room as Joel registers the meaning behind your confession.

“Goodnight, Miller.”

With that, you see yourself into the hallway, checking its status before tearing into the stairwell.

You barely breathe.

He wanted me — he had to have wanted me.

Miller was a pragmatic player; surely, he’d only bother to play with toys he liked like that… right?

Right?

Unable to clear your head or cool the heat radiating through your core, you take the long way home, the distant sounds of a war between rivals soothing the cacophony of noise swimming between your ears.

—

For the next two weeks, all you’re able to think about is him.

You think about him when he’s gone and when he’s in the room, grumbling in hushed tones to your father. You think about him when you’re unable to fall asleep, letting your hands slip beneath the waistband of your shorts, imagining your own fingers as thick, tan ones running through the warmth between your legs.

He takes no notice of you — a fact you deeply resent. Even in your skimpiest clothing, he’s like a damn horse with blinders on. You decide, in the past weeks, he’d either acquired the patience of Job or purged every sinful craving from his system when he’d stuck his fingers down your throat.

Naturally, you’re more than happy when, at breakfast (two in the afternoon), your father gives you the heads up about tonight’s gathering at the Bar (which was really just an asbestos-ridden basement equipped with enough prohibition-style gadgets and architecture to host a good ‘strategic meeting’ every other month).

“Everyone’s gonna be there,” he mumbles. “Need you to keep your ears open. Had to take a couple rats out last week…”

Everyone’s gonna be there.

Smiling to yourself, your thoughts start to spin out. Business, distractions, booze. Tonight would host a million opportunities for you to get him alone.

Hope blooms through your chest.

Do your worst, Miller.

—

“Man, I wish we could’ve experienced cocktails. Straight hooch is ass.”

A peer named Mel, just a year older than yourself, cringes as she sips on whatever murky liquor’s found its way into her cup.

You don’t mind the taste so much, having grown mostly immune to its taste and burn. In fact, you’d come to welcome the subsequent lapse in breath and judgement.

There was little else in this world that made you feel alive.

“Mhm,” you respond absent-mindedly, looking for a familiar scowl among the mass of scowls peppering the crowd.

A sigh to your right. “Always awesome, having your attention.”

The criticism snaps you back into your body. You smile sheepishly at your friend, apologizing through a wince.

She shrugs, her raggedy, pin-decorated jacket jingling with the movement. “S’okay. Known you long enough to know that look.”

For that, she receives a quizzical glance.

Mel comes back with a scoff. “No victims tonight?”

“Oh god,” you shoot her a look of disgust. “Do you mind not using such weird vocabulary? Make me sound like a predator.”

As the words tumble out, you zero in on the object of your search. There he is: eyebrows knit together in concentration, drink in hand, unsurprisingly (and annoyingly) in conversation with your father. A few other stragglers are in the mix, too, but they’re easily overlooked. Time slows to a full stop in his wake —only for the briefest of seconds —

“Well since the last guy actually wound up dead a week later, I think it’s fitting.”

Once again, Mel’s managed to wrangle your interest.

You stare blankly into her onyx eyes, ringlets falling through molasses around her face. “Jeremy?”

And she’s bewildered. “You didn’t hear?”

This time, both of your heads turn in the same direction.

“Ratted to FEDRA about the storehouse off tenth,” she explains, gesturing towards Miller and your father with a tilt of her head. Famous for her bravery, she stoops into your shoulder, averting his gaze and speaking under her breath, “Judging by the way they found him, my guess is it was mostly Miller’s stuff.”

It’s as if she’d screamed it.

The subject of your conversation turns to face you right as your company’s words drift off. Despite the level of noise, the amount of people, and the cloudiness of the air, you’re trapped in the corridor of your mutual stare, cornered.

The challenge, the knowing marking his expression.

“I need some air.”

You twist into the body standing behind you, shoving row after row of criminal scum out of the way. Mel doesn’t follow — she’d never hung around to comfort you, only to inform you. A mutual, typical relationship for the age, and just how things worked in the QZ.

You slam into the door, stomping into a deserted, silent alley, empty save for a few drunk strays. Your lips begin to tingle and a scream builds inside your lungs. Stalking blindly into the night, unsure of your direction, alone in half a top and a plain, ass-length skirt, shivering despite the warmth of the air…

You’re practically begging for trouble.

Just as your eyes catch the numbers on the old, rusted street sign above, just as you realize you’re on a monitored street tonight, only safe after curfew every other Monday and Wednesday, you’re grabbed by the waist, pulled into the space between two buildings, and shoved into a sheltered nook.

A dim, yellow light clicks on automatically. There’s a door (chained closed) leading into the building to your left and darkness to your right.

And there’s Joel Miller above you, his expression indeterminable.

“You asshole,” you barely hear yourself breathe over the sound of the blood rushing in your ears before lunging forward in a useless attempt to, once again, strike his profile.

He catches your wrist, no doubt having anticipated the attack. It’s written on your face, in your eyes, in your shallow, uneven inhalations. He takes your other hand before you’ve even thought to use it, lifting it above your head and slamming it against the old stucco behind you.

“You’re violent,” he says flatly.

He tightens his hold when you struggle against it. “Proud of yourself, yeah? You’re a killer.”

That inspires a slight smirk. You half expect him to return with an ‘as if you didn’t already know that.’

Instead, he says, “Sweetheart, you didn’t even know his name.”

“You should’ve told me.”

And that’s the real source of this anger: it’s rage at being the last to know.

And for what? To protect your feelings? Since when had anyone in your life bothered to do that?

“And don’t call me ‘sweetheart’,” you add for good measure.

You’d wanted him to touch you so badly for weeks now, but here, scorned at being left in the dark and confused at the death of a paramour, you only want to get free.

“And what’d he call you?” He spits, leaning down and in, inadvertently pressing his thigh between your legs — when his breath grazes the skin of your ear, it causes them to part (against your better judgement). “Got lots of names, right?” He continues to tease, “Heard your boyfriend’s pretty one for you before I shut him up — ‘that fuckin’ slut,’ f’I’m rememberin’ right.”

Despite your rage-shakes, you’re warming at the core, Joel’s pressure against it dizzying your already-addled head. It confuses you, makes the scorn easier to access.

“How did I come up, Miller?” You exhale, jutting your chin towards him. “Couldn’t help asking for all the dirty little details, could you?”

He smiles, and the act lacks any sort of kindness. “‘Lot easier gettin’ him alone once he thought he was meetin’ you.” Joel slams your wrist harder into the wall when you try to wriggle away. “Not sure you wanna keep making that kind of impression, angel.”

It’s hard to rationalize with him so close, as his pet-names echoe inside your head. He’d used your name to enact gang-law violence on a boy who’d been inside you, and yet, all you can think, all you can hear, is the way ‘sweetheart’ sounds tumbling off his lips.

“Fucking let me go, Miller,” you manage to exasperate, resenting the begging edge to every word. “I don’t need another abstinence lecture from you.”

Kicking one ankle off balance, Joel turns you around, pressing your stomach to the wall, your back into his chest. Ignoring your whines and pitiful struggle, he wraps a free hand around your neck, pushing your head against his collarbone. Your stomach erupts with butterflies as the rough pad of his thumb traces the front of your throat.

Yes — no — yes, he wants me — no, no, this is wrong, this is so wrong —

“‘Be wasted on you, anyways,” he says, rough and earnest, like his hand sliding down your chest, your breasts, your stomach, “Startin’ to realize if I can’t fix your dad’s mistakes…” and he’s finding the hem of your skirt and yanking it up, bunching the fabric around your hips —

“Might as well take advantage of them.”

He moves hungrily. He’s everywhere, sliding into your underwear and across your breasts, his big arms and suffocating biceps enveloping your entire frame.

“Joel—”

But he claps a hand over your mouth, silencing any hope of your pleas being effective.

“Think I haven’t seen you? Your lil’ looks…” a low laugh, “n’ those fuckin’ clothes?” God, the rumble, the sheer want in his voice hammers at your initial resistance, and you feel yourself welcoming the feel of his thick, long fingers, sliding between your wet folds. You’re clay, melting against the curved, firm wall of his chest.

You mewl pathetically into his palm.

Another low laugh wracks his lungs, dances at the top of your ear.

“Knew you’d be this wet for me.”

“Knew since you got down on your knees,” Joel continues, uncovering your mouth only to ease a few fingers between your lips — lips that part as though commanded, and a mouth that welcomes and caresses whatever it receives, “‘N opened this pretty lil’ mouth for me to fuck it. Can’t close my eyes without seein’ you like that — so fuckin’ needy.” He exhales from between his teeth, signalling his approval while you suck him down to the knuckles.

His fingers tease your clit and you give him your thanks by pleasuring those of his other hand.

When his hands move, it’s to hold you steady and balanced as he drags your underwear down your legs. That thick, heavy cloud of arousal hides any and all rational thoughts from view.

And he knows. He knows you’re past the point of no return, restraining you only out of his desire to rather than out of a real need to. He knows from the whine you breathe at the loss of his hand against your clit, moving to work at his belt buckle instead.

“Gonna use a condom?” You breathe, emboldened by your clearing senses at the temporary lack of stimulation.

At first, you think he’s missed your taunt.

He backs up, pulling your hips along with him until the tips of your fingers are no longer touching the decaying wall before you. Joel pulls you upright and against him with an arm around your waist and a hand around your throat, turning your head and tilting it back to meet your eyes.

You grasp onto his forearms, failing to stand, unable to breathe. His hardness digs into your back, and his cruel eyes show you just how much pleasure he takes in your struggle.

“Don’t like to waste ‘em,” he finally answers, rocking his cock against your spine, “But I will if you beg. You gonna beg?”

He manipulates your answer, fingers moving to your red-hot core — he barely grazes the nerves, only dancing over the needy flesh. You can’t tear your eyes from him either, tethered to your body through his gaze.

Joel Miller was a frustrating lover.

“N-no,” is your answer, slightly strangled and softly stuttered.

He smiles. “S’what I thought.” Then, “Show me what you can do, angel,” he coos, lips just inches away from yours, his hold on your body relaxing —

“Use your pretty lil’ hands n’ put my cock where you want it most.”

And you both know exactly where that is.

After a nod, Joel allows you to bend forward slowly — it’s like moving through honey. Your legs burn with effort as you reach between your legs to wrap a hand around his thick, hard length.

Christ, he’s huge.

He groans when you touch him and uses his own hand to help guide his tip between your folds. One hand holds your waist, fingers extended under your ribs to support your weight in a skilled show of experience.

With his tip at your aching entrance, you try to lean back, to slide yourself slowly down his many inches.

But Joel doesn’t allow it.

He pushes into you in one go, clicking his tongue at your strangled gasp —

The man hadn’t even bothered to open you up with his fingers.

“Ah, c’mon,” he condescends, “You can take it.”

Then he’s setting a hard pace, hands moving from your hips to your ribs to your biceps to your hair to your neck — anywhere he wanted to go, he went. One eventually comes to the front of your throat, tilting your eyes back and up towards the ceiling. Every one of his thrusts arches your back further until you’re contorting into a half-moon shape, standing only by the grace of his support.

And it feels so good. Joel fills you up to the brim, takes you to heaven and floods your ears with hymns, punishes you in the kind of way you’d only experienced in dreams.

Words tumble out, but they’re filled with nothingness. “Joel,” “fuck,” and “yesohgodyes,” quickly become staples of your vocabulary.

He laughs whenever you sob, grows harder every time you moan, restrains you when you try to run away.

The hand around your throat tightens, digging unforgivably into the flesh as you start to let go, as your walls begin to clench and flutter appreciatively around his cock.

“M’I making you happy, sweetheart? My cock making you smile?” He asks gruffly, pulling you back into his chest. Joel readjusts you into whatever shape you need to be in at the new angle, hips still slamming into your ass. Struggling to stand on your tiptoes, he steadies you with his arms and his hand on your jaw, forcing you to look up into his rugged face.

“Mmhm,” is all you can offer him, the pitch jumping up halfway through when the head of his cock grazes that perfect spot inside your cunt.

He doesn’t let up.

“Show me, baby—” he commands, out of breath, too, but not nearly as tortured as you, “—Show me your smile.”

You do your best, smiling up at him, degrading yourself even more at the hands of Joel-fucking-Miller. And he eats it up, loves the way your grin turns into a bitten lip and knit eyebrows over closed eyes, slowing his thrusts to rock even deeper inside you.

You moan something unintelligible, and a laugh rustles through your tangled hair.

“Am I makin’ you come?”

You nod, feeling that familiar rush of pressure blooming somewhere within that throbbing bundle of nerves under his spell.

He smirks in pride and victory, the last look you get before your head falls against his shoulder, your muscles going lax as the peak builds, as your half-sobs grow louder.

“S’it, baby, tell ‘em,” he coos, nipping and sucking the skin on the side of your throat. “Gonna tell the whole street how you take it like a good lil’ slut.”

His fingers fall to your clit, enticing you right over the edge. You vision blurs and your legs shake, but Joel talks you through your orgasm, sweet nothings starting with, “S’right — show me — yes, fuck — good girl…”

And then —

He stops.

You whine, stars dancing before your eyes as the mean, mean man inside you refuses to fuck you through your climax.

“Joel,” you plead, grinding back against him in a pathetic show of need, “Come with me.”

He does the opposite, sliding himself out of your sore opening. You turn to face him, restoring your balance with hands against his chest, gazing up at him in desire-stricken reproach.

“Use your mouth,” he says, voice gruff at your ruined sight and from his own hand on his cock, keeping his arousal level, “Not gettin’ any more help from me.”

It’s unclear whether ‘help’ means pills or his cock, but you assume both to be safe.

You try to argue (having spent the last few weeks dreaming of Joel dripping down your legs) but he just won’t budge.

Then, his voice softens.

“You know your dad’d kill me, angel.”

And it’s really the sweetness of his tone that does it.

Sinking to your knees, it’s déjà vu when you open wide for him, steadying your shaking knees with both hands on his half clothed, half naked hips. Gravel and debris dig painfully into your bare knees, but you ignore the sting, smiling instead at the taste of yourself on Joel’s cock, lips sliding adoringly down the thick length of it.

He groans his approval, tangling his fingers in your hair to help guide your movements.

As you take him in again and again and again, pleasing every inch of him, he chokes out a laugh.

“Never seen you so quiet,” he muses (mostly to himself), caressing your cheekbone with his free hand —

“Gagged by an old man’s cock.”

You pull off, pumping him with both hands, asking breathlessly, “Are you all so big?”

He smiles, eyes darkening at the dirty compliment. “Give you a few numbers n’ you can tell me.”

God, he’s beautiful from down here.

You hold his attention and lick a slow stripe down the underside of his cock, half-grinning up at his lust-filled expression.

“I only want yours, Joel Miller.”

An uneasy inhale as you take him back in, his brows furrowing and his cock growing impossibly harder. Your words please him, he returns by groaning orders and praises like: “S’all yours, baby — take it all — take aaall that dick — good fuckin’ girl.”

He’s so close and you know it, moaning in submission at his hand’s pressure against the back of your head. With your nose crunched into his abdomen, you hold your throat open for him to use it however he pleases — reduced to nothing more than the man’s plaything.

There’s a low “ah, fuck,” from above, and then you finally know what Joel Miller tastes like.

It’s better than the Plan B.

You hear nothing beyond his recovering breaths, feel nothing past pride, lust, and exhaustion.

Eventually, he loosens his grip. You pull off of him delicately, drawing a groan from between his gritted teeth when you make sure to suck every last drop of his seed into your mouth.

Sitting back on your ankles, you roll your head up to face him.

He swipes a thumb under your lips, clearing the saliva connecting you to his softening cock.

“Still mad at me?” He asks.

You’d be crazy to say yes.

“Only for pulling out.”

You note the twitch at the corner of his mustache.

Joel helps you back on your feet, using one hand to pull you up by your arm and another to arrange himself back to decency.

You adjust your shirt; Joel fixes your skirt. It’s a strange kind of silence settling inside this pocket at the side of a random, ruined building.

Then, your company clears his throat, that mask of seriousness falling over his expression once again.

“You gonna be smart?”

What ever could he mean?

Stay away from him? Stay away from men? Practice abstinence? Use protection?

Either way, you’re not one to make promises you know you can’t keep.

You cross your arms.

“No.”

He sighs.

Well, looks like things are already back to normal.

His face softens and he shakes his head, already regretting his next words. “Just — just come find me, then. I won’t do… this again, but — but I’ll help.”

You frown.

“What do you mean, ‘this’?”

He stares down into your accusatory eyes with a look you’d received many times from him, one screaming, “get real.”

“Fine,” you mutter, breaking eye-contact, “Thank you.”

With a stoic nod, he walks around you, heading back into the night. You try, in vain, to watch him go in silence — god knows you had some thinking to get to — and find that, instead of getting it out of your system, the entanglement had only left you wanting for more.

And more and more.

“Is this what you meant?” and you hear his footsteps halt, “When you told me you’d do worse than kill me? When I tried to hit you?”

It comes out before you can help it, and you twist around to face his still, broad shoulders.

You can hear the smile teasing his lips as he utters the words.

“Why are you askin’ me that?”

Still facing his back, you break into a smile of your own. “So I’ll know what I have to do to get you to do it again.”

You watch him shake his head, grey-streaked ripples in the low light.

“Try your best not to find out, angel.”

With that, he disappears into the darkness, leaving you in the flickering doorway. Thighs aching, heart racing, you take a deep breath, trying to memorize the feeling of what it felt to have them taken from you by Joel Miller.

A feeling you’d chase.

—

Put your red boots on

Baby, giddy up

Baby wants a dance

Baby gets her way

Dreamy nights

Talk to me with that whiskey breath

Twirl me twice

I'll treat you like a holiday

And don't say you're over me

When we both know that you ain't

Don't say you're over me

Baby, it's already too late

Just do what you do best with me

Dance me all around the room

Spin me like a ballerina, super high

Dance me all around the moon

Light me up like the 4th of July

Once, twice, three times

The guy I ever thought I would meet, so

Don't say you're over me

When we both know that you lie

If you lie down right next to me

Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie

If you lie down right next to me

Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie

When you lie down right next to me

Get your jacket on

Be a gentleman

Get into your truck

And pick me up at eight

'Cause we were built for

The long haul freight train

Burnt by fire

Without trial like a stowaway

And don't say you're over me

When they all know that you ain't

If you lay down right next to me

Dance me all around the room

Spin me like ballerina super high

Dance me all around the moon

Like six times 'til I'm sick and I cry

Once, twice, three times

The guy I ever thought I would meet, so

Don't say you're over me

When they all know that you're lying

If you lie down right next to me

Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie

Lie, you lie

If you lie down right next to me

Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie

Lie, you lie

When you lie down right next to me

—

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bigfatbimbo · 1 month

Note

I know you asked for something with Ford and i’ll request something for him once i brainstorm it up i promise T-T

BUT with the Sub masochist Bill, i can totally see where it’d go. I feel like Bill would be the type of person to never even think about touching himself, because the whole ‘trying to end the world thing’, and he was too busy with all of that and experimenting with pain in the human body it never even occurred to him that pleasure would be as awesome as it was till the [insert reader] showed him

Like literally after he figures it out he prolly wouldn’t even wanna stop. Man could go hours overstimulated and sex crazy because after a while of getting overstimmed it hurts insanely bad, but that’s lowkey more of a reason for him to keep going.

And whenever you’d tell him no to fucking or you’d be busy or something, it’d drive him literally nuts because ‘how dare you reject HIM.’ And he’d think it would just be casual questions of ‘Sooo you wanna have sex now, toots?’ but it’d get the point where he’d just be BEGGING you to touch him.

Speaking of touching himself, like i’d said before, he never really had till his first time with you, and whenever you’d reject his advances he just couldn’t help but touch himself while throwing a little hissy fit about the whole thing. You’d once walked in on him in one of these moments, on the bed, dick in hand while ruthlessly beating himself off. Sometimes he’d even slap himself and things of the sort and imagine it was you doing it and that usually through him over the edge.

ALSO FLUFF 🤩 So i don’t imagine him to be the most open about cuddling or anything but when he’s in the mood he’d get upset when you wouldn’t. Sometimes he just forgets you can’t read his mind. But honestly he seems clingy in the type of way that when he’s not horny out of his demonic mind, that he’d learn to just enjoy your general presence. Even when you guys aren’t having playful banter, he would bask in the silence knowing you’re there with him by his side. Don’t get me wrong, this man is a pest and would never admit any of this outloud, but he also feels as thought you know it so he doesn’t HAVE to tell you.

ONE MORE THING: Star gazing. now i really need you to here me out of this one.

So his dimension (or whatever it was) was destroyed, right? And even when he eventually came to earth, he must’ve been traveling in the stars for a while just tryna find a new home. So sometimes when he’s really feeling it, you guy’ll be on the roof to your place and he’d point out the general direction of where is dimension once was, or even go into detail about constellations he knows you don’t know about. Like i said this man is not a gooshy-ass person and can be a real dickhead to you more or less all the time, but i feel like there would definitely be those insanely rare moments where you could look at him and see a bit of human in that demonic entity (BYW ITS BEEN A WHILE SINCE IVE BEEN IN THIS FANDOM SO I MIGHTVE FORGOTTEN IMPORTANT LORE SO LEAVE ME ALONE 😭😭) Anywayss lemme think of some Ford shit to keep you sane pooks 😌🫡

-👻👽 Anon

I love asks like this because you guys literally do all my work for me. Much love Alien anon, much love. Also oh my god??? Everyone took my Bill fic and ran with it and I am LOVING IT, you people are so creative!

The fluff is actually really cute, by the way!! I don’t know how into cuddling Bill would be.. his human form is probably the most likely that situation would ever be. lol, imagine Bill experiencing the foreign need for human touch for the first time. i also like the point about him touching himself anyways-

#bill cipher x reader #dom reader #inbox open

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edgeray · 3 months

Note

hii edge! is it possible if i request an arlecchino/reader with beauty & the beast au :0? thank you so much in advance aaaaaa i love your writing so much it always makes my day^^

To Break a Curse

(Arlecchino x GN! Reader)

A/N - Hi anon! Of course, here's going to be my reminder that if you request from me again as an anon, give yourself a name/emoji :). So I technically have already made a beauty and beast au (here is the link), but I suppose I could just rewrite the concept. The original au did differ a lot from the ‘disney’ version so for this one, so for this one, I will actually try to align this more with the disney version. Slightly dark because I'm not going to have talking kettles and candlesticks in here. Will be assuming gn! reader for this. Also I'm glad that you enjoy my works and bit sorry for the delay ^^ I am so sorry the ending is shitty at the end I am deadass about to fall asleep, I was this close 🤏 to falling asleep. I was typing with my eyes close lol. It's like 3:30AM for me so I'm gonna hit the hay. Maybe I should stop writing these at 12AM lol. Content warnings / info - mean arle at the start, semi-graphic violence, prolly forgetting something but I'm tired, 2.7k words

You've heard of the rumored forsaken prince, everyone in your village has. People rarely mention her by name, opting to call the cursed prince ‘the Beast,’ based on her animal-like claws and her temperament–just as vicious as a feral beast. The castle which she alone resides in sits on the outskirts of the forest next to your village. Every villager warns you to never trespass into the Beast's territory, unless you wished to never return. However, you've never believed in the existence of the Beast and her castle--after all, you've gone to the forests numerous times and have never encountered her. Perhaps this was just a way to scare off children from getting lost.

Today, you learned how wrong you were. Venturing into the forest to forage for your dinner, you had accidentally delved too deep into the forest, now lost. Night approached soon as you searched for an escape or a shelter, but your search was unsuccessful.

Trudging through the forest, you heave for breath, your feet aching from traversing the rough terrain of the forest, not helped by the uncomfortable shoes you chose to wear. You thought that the foraging wouldn't take long but you found a large patch of mushrooms that led you deeper into the forest than you intended. You gaze up at the sky, it being pitch black with only the moonlight and the stars guiding you through.

The shadows produced by the trees unnerve you, your imagination and paranoia warping them into abstract monsters stalking you. You know that there is nothing in the forest that can hurt you, unless the rare bear, but the knowledge didn't soothe you any more. You feel something hit your forehead–something light and small… and wet. It takes a couple more droplets before you realize it’s now downpouring. You bite your lip out of frustration, wrapping your arms around yourself to store as much body heat to yourself. Your footsteps speed up and you look more frantically, until you see something imposing in the distance. It's hard to make out in the fog, but it seems like the outline of some sort of building.

You run towards it, only to be faced with a wall. You follow along it until you reach a gate, and behind the gate, you can vaguely make out a structure larger and more obscene than anything you've ever seen before; it looks nothing like the village establishments. If anything, it dwarfs your entire village as a whole, likely massive enough to fit your village inside based on the height alone. At least this would provide you shelter from the rain and cold, is the only consideration you make before pushing open the gates and rushing down the stone path.

You nearly trip over the stone passage and as you arrive at the entrance, you soon realize it’s a castle. Its uncanny shape now makes some sense, but from then on lack of light through the windows, it seems like no one lives here. You press on, entering the castle. You’re thankful you're no longer being pelted by the rain and then you're immediately struck with awe from the decor and grandiose of the interior. Although the castle is unlit, you're still able to make out some details of the room you enter. Admiring the spiral staircase and the magnificent pillars, a thought strikes you. Why does no one inhabit the castle?

Abruptly, there is the sound of something shuffling and it makes your marveling halt. Your heart drops to the pit of your stomach and fear clenches onto you tightly as the incessant terror of not being as alone as you though plagues you. Spinning around, you search for the origins of the sound only to scare yourself when you accidentally kick against a piece of furniture. You yelp out, before silencing yourself when you cognize it was nothing.

And then a thud. And another, coming from behind you. Paralysis enraptures your body and before you have the time to breathe, a heavy weight crashes into you, making you tumble into the ground. You let out a scream, turning around to view what just struck you, and two glowing red orbs stare back at you. You gasp wildly, trying to scramble away when your throat is suddenly tightened and you're forced against the ground. It feels like claws are just barely brushing against your neck, threatening to puncture into you if you so much as breathe. A whimper escapes you and a whispered plea escapes you as you lock your eyes on the pair of red.

“P-please…”

A deep, resounding voice responds to you, causing shivers down your body. “What are you doing in my home?”

Tears well in your eyes and you try your best to speak as clearly as possible. “I-I'm sorry. I didn't k-know! I'll go, p-please let me go!” You beg, your hands raise to pry off the hand over your throat but a feral growl stops you.

“Do you know whose home you intruded into?”

You shake your head. The grip around your neck intensifies for a few moments.

“Speak.”

“N-no…”

“This is my castle, Prince Arlecchino's. Though, the villagers like to call me something else… what was it, ‘the Beast?’”

You suck in an audible breath as your eyes grow wide. This is the Beast? The Beast is real? Then are the rumors of people disappearing in the castle true as well? What will happen to you? Your mind goes into a frenzy, with all the wonderings of what the Beast would do to you.

“P-please don't kill m-me…”

“Kill you? No,” the Beast answers coldly. The hold on your throat slackens and the Beast’s hand slips away. “I won't kill you. But you've trespassed my home. And for that, you will remain here, for the rest of your life.”

“W-what? B-but,” you breath is caught when you feel a tug on your arm pulling you up to your feet, the same claws that pressed against your neck digs shallowly into your arm, making you wince.

“This is your punishment,” the Beast says, its red pupils glaring down at you coldly. You gulp, but accept your fate. The Beast could easily kill you with one swipe of her hand.

“Follow,” it instructs, and you do, trailing behind the Beast as it navigates the dark surroundings effortlessly, a testament to how long it's been here. You trip over another piece of furniture, making you stumble onto the ground.

“I'm sorry–” you stammer out an apology immediately.

“Be quiet,” gruffed the Beast. You scramble to get up but feel yourself hoisted up, by the Beast presumably. You yelp from the sudden position, now carried in a bridal style–its hold is surprisingly gentle and its claws don't prick you.

“Where are you taking me?” You inquire, clutching onto the Beast’s shoulder–which for some reason shocks you that it’s firm just like any other human, although you know that the Beast is a human–when it goes up the staircase.

“A guest chamber.”

“A guest chamber?”

“Would you prefer the dungeon?”

“No… thank you… Prince Arlecchino.”

The Beast pauses its movements, halting in place.

Your thoughts flood with anxiety, wondering if this would trigger a violent reaction from the Beast. “Did I offend you? I’m sorry, I really am.”

“No. It's just been a long while since someone referred to me from my title.” The Beast continues walking, unaware of how its–her–words shattered your mindset.

That's right, how could you forget? ‘The Beast’ is still a human, cursed or not. Perhaps Prince Arlecchino deserved being inflicted by a curse, but you could not imagine yourself with the fate instilled on the forsaken prince, nor being singularly called ‘the Beast’ by every waking person. It's dehumanizing and awfully isolating, and it makes you question how long it has been since she's been called that, how long it has been since she has been seen as a human.

It makes your heart ache.

You count the flight of stairs that she goes up, and then for the first time, you see orange light coming from one of the rooms at the end of a corridor–an open fire likely. As the Prince walks closer to the room, you're able to make out more details; it's a bedroom, but more apparently, you can finally see her. You tilt your head up, and you expectedly, yet unexpectedly at once, you view a very princely face: pale, flawless skin framed by snow white hair and ebony strands, and sharp jaw. Prince Arlecchino glances down at you, sharp cross-shaped pupils burrowing into you. Her expression seems curious of yours.

“You do look like a prince…” you think out loud absentmindedly, your face flushing as you realize your verbalization.

The Prince says nothing, thankfully, and doesn't note your fluster. You look away from her face and glance at her hands. Like you've heard from the villagers, they are black, as if dipped in ink and her nails are red claws. Though what the villagers have yet to mention was the markings on her forearm, which are, admittedly, entrancing. She finally sets you down once she enters her chamber, which is obviously well-lived in.

Taking a nearby candle holder and a few logs of wood set nearby the hearth the Prince silently exits her room to go into the room next to hers. You follow her into the room, this one obviously not used but still has a lot of furniture. Using the logs and the candlestick, she ignites the hearth and what you assume is going to be your room fills with heat and light.

“This is your room from now on. Do not ask for me for the rest of the night,” she gruffs, and closes the door behind her. Her footsteps go away towards the direction of her bedroom.

You blink, reality setting in. You’re still in your wet clothes, but you can't do much but strip and wrap yourself in dry sheets. You do exactly that, before sinking into the bed. It's like how you imagine sinking into a cloud to be–you fall to slumber in the manner of minutes.

—

You do not see her until the next morning, when the sun finally peaks out and you're able to see where you walk. Exiting your room, you note that she's not in her chamber, and you wander the castle. A whiff of something metallic combined with a musk catches your attention and you travel down the stairs until you reach the ground floor. You spot a figure crouched over something, and when you near the sight more, you discover the Prince hunched over a deer carcass. A sickening rip makes you cringe as a limb is torn off from the body.

“P-prince?” You ask hesitantly. The Prince turns, a calm expression over her face. Only a bit of blood smears her lips.

“Yes?”

“What are you doing?”

“Eating. It is also for you.”

You stew in silence long enough for the Prince to turn back and resume. “Prince Arlecchino, how long have you been surviving like this?”

“Since I was cursed.”

Your heart aches again. “It is raw.”

“Indeed.”

“It cannot be good for you.”

“It is all I have.”

It is a sad sight. You think that ‘the Beast’ fits her the best here, like a starved animal instead of a human trying to live.

“Prince Arlecchino, if you allow me, I can improve your eating experience. It would be healthier for you and it would be more appealing to eat.”

The Prince perks up her head, glancing back at you.

That day, the Prince learns of the wonders of cooked venison. And perhaps, you've never seen a brighter, warmer light than the one that glints in the Prince's at her first taste.

—

“What is it that you're reading?”

Arlecchino glances up from her book. “It is a romance novel.”

“I didn't think that you'd be interested in such things, Prince.”

“You grow curious about things you do not have.”

You frown and contemplate. It seems like… she's always wanted company. “Prince, may I ask you why you chose to isolate yourself here?”

The Prince remains quiet for several moments before she responds, in a voice uncharacteristically quiet. “The villagers do not accept my appearance.”

“Because of your curse?”

“Yes. They’re afraid of me. Of my eyes, of my hands. Of my strength.”

“Have you not tried undoing the curse?”

She bitterly laughs. “There is nothing that breaks the curse. It is impossible.”

You narrow your eyes. “There must be something. There's no such thing as an unbreakable curse.”

“You are right. However, the conditions to break this one is… unobtainable.”

“What is it?”

The Prince's gaze shifts from you to the stack of books that pile by her bedside. You recognize some of the titles from your village library–they were all in the romance category. You never realize until now that the Prince looks at them with a hopeless longing. “To be loved and to love, is what it is in simple terms.”

There is that heartache again.

You shake your head, trying to any more painful thoughts circling around the Prince. “If you truly gave up on breaking your curse, you would not still be alive, would you?”

“I will not entertain this thought,” is all she says, but you know her answer already.

You sigh. “Can I at least… read with you?”

The Prince tilts her head and pauses. A clawed hand grasps onto yours, and you're pulled into her lap. The steady heartbeat of Arlecchino's can be felt from the contact.

—

It takes several weeks for you to figure that the Prince does not enforce her punishment. You have escaped out of the castle before, if only to find more things to forage. She has seen you exit out of the castle but she does not chase you or force you to return back. Although you’d like to see the village again, you're also not sure if you do want to go back–the castle is quite comfortable and you’ve had enough of petty village squabbles. You wonder why it is that she doesn't stop you, why she was so forceful of it at the beginning.

You recall the discussion regarding her curse. She had given up on finding a way to break her curse, however, she had always sought out company. Perhaps she had the punishment to force you to stay… to enjoy a company she has been able to for years. Now, Arlecchino has given up on you being a potential cure to her curse. It must be why she's no longer hesitant to let you go.

But she is wrong. In those weeks you spend with her, you've learned much more about ‘the Beast.’ You've learned that she is kind in a quiet, observant manner. She's hunted for you, lit your fireplace, made your clothes. She cares for nature, appreciates its beauty and intricacy unlike anyone else you know. And she is romantic, some of the village men could not compare to her when she's read so many books.

One day, a rose is left on your bed, no doubt collected on your bed.

That night, you approach her room.

“Prince Arlecchino?”

“Yes?”

“The rose… thank you for it.”

The Prince remains in silence, observing you with adoration in her eyes despite her bone chilling features. “You’re welcome.”

“Roses are often used as a way to confess,” you say. You know that she knows already, given the amount of books she read. “Is this what I think it is?”

Prince Arlecchino nods. Tentatively, she takes your cheek in her hand and cups it, her claws gently brushing over your skin. “Yes. I think I am in love with you.”

A smile forms on your face and you lean in to press your foreheads against one another, creating an intimate air. “I love you too, my dear Prince.”

The two of you lean against one another, your lips meeting each other and you close your eyes. The Prince places a hand behind your head, pushing you closer. You don't notice that her nails are no longer red, nor are they sharp. She doesn't notice either.

The ink from her arms wash away, and with that ‘the Beast’ is swept away, stolen away by you. Prince Arlecchino stands in place of the missing ‘Beast.’

#arlecchino x reader #arlecchino x you #arlecchino #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact fanfics #genshin impact fics #genshin impact fic #genshin fics #genshin x you #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #edgeray.writes #edgeray.requests

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iwanty0uu · 8 months

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❄︎ all characters are 19+ y/n being 20, second female character being 19, and male character being 21, contains swearing and mentions of violence ❄︎

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐...

The door to your childhood home flung open, throwing your keys on the kitchen counter you threw your shoes off and closed the entrance behind you.

“Aye why the hell you makin allat noise in my house baby girl?” your bald daddy asked you, setting aside his newspaper and putting his feet on the coffee table infront of him that was used for everything but coffee. The tears were already rushing down your flushed face, hands shaking as you found yourself trying to hold onto his shoulders for balance from behind the couch he sat now disturbed and concerned.

“Hey hey- whats wrong who did this to you?” his paternal instinct kicking in, “This aint about dat boy fat headed ass boy because if it is- Ima shoo-“

You interrupted

“Daddy its about him and your horrible daughter that you n mommy spoiled rotten who think shes obligated to have everything I got when i barely got any-fucking-thing myself. She just fucked up my relationship and ion know what else to do like..” you paused to catch your breath, in attempt to calm yourself down, you only created more noice and panic as anxiety settled in.

It felt as if the world was moving at 300 frames per second and everything was overwhelming. Your eldest brother sensed the drama in the living room and exited out of his own. I swear when it came to people business he found it with ease like a rat with cheese.But after seeing his little sister who claimed “thugs dont cry” practically bawling in fetal position next to your father in the couch, he couldnt help but mind your business. You are his business.

“The fuck am I hearing about Nataly?” He asked? “Bro that bitch cheated on ME fuck the nigga at this point with my boyfriend.”Anger settled into your bones as you called your mother to air out her business, hoping the family would judge her the way they did you all the times you made the same mistakes that she did.

“Yo ma” you answered calming down slightly, playing with your leggings, “Whats wrong im at work.” her phone propped up to see your beautiful but upset face, “Que pasa mí amor?” she asked, her once typing fingers stopped moving as she focused her attention on you.

“You’re daughter’s a slut. Caught her ass fucking my boyfriend.”

“Well thats your little sister…its wrong but she is still your sister.”

“WHATCHU MEAN SHE’S STILL MY SISTER? You dont see anything remotely wrong with what she did????” You asked at this point begging for empathy.

“Yes but-“

“Nah forget it she prolly got that cheating shit from you thats why daddy left your ass now.”

The “dun dun” of the now ended FaceTime was the only noise that filled the quiet room..your father started blankly at you.

.. “How did you know .. you kids were never supposed to know?” he whispered, almost as if he was still trying to save the secret, to keep it in Pandora’s box.

“Close your mouth before a fly goes up in there Lachlan.. I seen a video of her and her side nigga in her phone when i was younger..”

“NAHHHH THIS SHIT IS NEWS TO ME FUCK U MEAN MA CHEATED?? I just thought the d was not fire..” Lachlan now yelled, no longer trying to control his temper, disbelief and confusion.

But just like that, your relationship with your mother’s side of the family, and your sister was practically done for, until familiar footsteps entered the household.

Oh so now everybody and they mother wanna pull up today huh?

#black reader #black coded reader #attack on titan #iwanty0uu #fem reader #aot x y/n #aot fanfiction #aot x black reader #ony x black reader #onyankopon x reader #aot onyankopon #onyankapon #onyankopon x black y/n #black y/n #black tumblr

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zluty-spendlik · 1 month

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WAKFU REDESIGN AND REWRITE SERIES PART 2

Yugo

Okay I really should've started with Yugo but I just had so many ideas for Eva I had to let it out. (link to part 1 here)

And with Yugo, I have the exact opposite feelings, because... he's fine. He's the main character, he's a kid, he acts like a kid, he's very thoughtful and kind... I don't have any issues with his character.

But! Theres still ideas i have!

For example, I never quite liked the idea of Yugo being the Eliatrope king and yeah, I know hes a child but he never really... gave me leader vibes, yk? Tbh compared to Adamaï he severely lacks the assertive personality. After finding out that hes the last airbender Eliatrope, he doesnt even care for the culture much. Or like- at all? Hes mostly excited about his superpowers- AND THATS FINE, hes a literal child, but still... a supposed king.

So either make him more invested in his people (you could make a whole arc outta that! He gets hyperfixated on figuring his heritage out he forgets about the here and now - tho that really does sound more like Adamaï) OR make him state outloud that he already has a life and doesnt want to start another one! He likes his friends and adventures and doesnt need anything else... until he does. Make him grow and find parts of himself he didnt even know were missing. New values, a culture he can be a part of!

(Also AU where Yugo actually cant use his powers properly so they only inconvenience him (like accidentally teleporting his stuff) and he tries to stay away from his heritage as long as possible until Grougal is just forced to drag him out the house is so entertaining 2 me istg)

So im fine with the story Qilby has spun, where he and Shinonome are the leaders cause HOW COOL WOULD THAT BE?? And anyway, the Adventure duo finding out about Qilbys betrayal through random goofy shenanigans seems pretty in character lmao

Design

I like Yugos design (except for the shoes, they absolutely haunt me) so I mostly just put my own spin on it rather than changing it radically. I briefly debated on giving him a tail or more dragon-like features but then I realized he lived a normal life before all this lol the village would PROLLY NOTICE

Tho it finally hit me that Eliatropes cleatly have deer features- like the little fur thingy at the end of the Eliatrope cap resembling a deer tail??? How did I not notice that??? But I think his s4 outfit resembles a bat way more so idk?

I gave him white freckles like the bambi spots and light blue "wakfu" spots on the back instead of the runes on his chest he has in the Qilby final boss fight. Also I couldnt decide which outfit I like more for s1-2 so which one do u guys like more?

I havent watched season 3-4 but I did a potential s3 Yugo look as well, I had fun :))

Yugo art dump

#wakfu #wakfu redesign #wakfu rewrite #wakfu fanart #yugo the eliatrope #yugo wakfu #long post #pinpainting #yap pin

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hxjikonn · 2 years

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Could I request headcanons of Leona, Ace, Deuce and Jamil with an s/o that forgets everything except for their name, their favorite food and the boys' names?

A/N: Hiii! A little heads up, The Reader would be GN! Thanks so much for requesting and for being patient<3

——————————————————————————

Scatterbrain

☆Staring☆: Leona Kingscholar, Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade, and Jamil Viper

Synopsis: Their Headcannons with an GN!Reader who forgets things easily.

Warnings/Heads up: There are some hurt to comfort parts but mostly fluff, harmless lighthearted cuss words, LONG ASS HEADCANNON, prolly not proofread.

Leona Kingscholar

We all know the stubborn king can be impatient and irritable so the great 7 decided to test him more when they gave him a s/o who forgets everything all the time.

He does this all the time that whenever you’d call him and he already has default questions he’d ask you.

“Where did you last see it?” “What were you doing last?” “When was the last time you saw it?” “Who were you last with?” “Did you retrace your steps?”

Before you could even ask him, your questions were already answered.

Thinks it’s cute and funny sometimes that you forget.

Like whenever you’d put a pencil behind your ear and then proceed to look for it 2 minutes later, he’d just watch you for a bit looking confused and laugh, then he’d tell you it was on your ear

Thinks it’s hilarious when you don’t remember irrelevant people’s names. The headmage of RSA went to greet you one time and your response was “Sorry, who are you?” you meant well but it was just funny

He usually lets Ruggie deal with his responsibilities, but you? No. He’s responsible for you, it’s rare that the students of NRC sees Leona far from you, he’s always beside you or behind you.

He snapped at you one time but never again, he was EXTREMELY MOODY that day so he tells you to go piss off and bother Ruggie or someone else instead.

He took a long ass nap and when he woke up the next morning he thought you probably have forgotten about it by now, breaking news you didn’t.

Leona started noticing you never came to him to ask questions whenever you forget about something, and when he was around you dont even speak or come near him that much. Strike 1.

He was on edge the whole day, he told Ruggie he wasn’t upset or anxious but his tail betrayed him when it kept swinging and hitting the floor making a thumping noise.

He told Ruggie to go get you, and when you arrived you didn’t even look him in the eye, strike 2, he called out to you and instead of walking towards him you asked him “why?” Strike 3.

He was now fully aware that you in fact DID NOT forget about him yelling at you yesterday. He stood up, went towards you, carried you like a sack on his shoulder and went back under the tree he was sitting at.

He sat down, sat YOU down infront of him and dragged you down to lay with him, he curled up against you and apologized. You apologized for being a pain but he stopped you and told you that you shouldn’t.

Was so worried he drove you away from him. Was 10x more clingy and controlled his temper a lot more, only around you of course, he couldn’t give a single flying fuck about losing his cool with other people.

Would kill people who snap at you for being forgetful, figuratively and/or literally depending if they beg you for forgiveness or not.

When you start talking badly about yourself for being forgetful or if you get stressed when you forget things, he’d calm you down by forcing you to take a nap with him and tell you that you two will find it when you wake up.

Ace Trappola

He wouldn’t be annoyed at all, honestly this is nothing compared to the ridiculous rules at the Heartslabyul dormitory.

He doesn’t really remember much either, he tends to forget things he finds uninteresting or unimportant too so he understands what you feel.

He’d help you find whatever or whoever you’re looking for, cuz if you ask him if he remembers he probably say he doesn’t, because he really doesn’t.

Thinks it’s funny whenever you two ask each other the same question in unison when you both forgot about something.

Since he’s the one who remembers more at classes, he helps you by going through the textbook to highlight important words so it’s easy for you to remember.

He knows it’s a struggle to remember what you review before a test so he takes the time out of his day to highlight words for you so it’s easier to remember.

Always takes it lightly when you forget about stuff, and just helps you find them but there was one time where he got angry at you. It was winter, He lended you his jacket while heading to school since you forgot yours, he was already snappy cuz Riddle gave him a scolding that morning.

He tells you to put it in your bag when you get to class, cuz if you forget it somewhere, both of you are going to have to go home freezing cold. You said yes and you two went your separate ways into your first classes for the day.

When the bell rang, he just got out from yet another scolding from one of the teachers, he had a bad day, he just wants to go home and go to bed. But he remembers he still has to wait for you. So he did.

When you got there, he told you to take out the jacket he gave you from your bag so you two can use it as head cover since it was snowing really bad. The moment your smile dropped he knew, and he let out a frustrated groan.

“You lost it didn’t you?” He asked you angrily, you apologized and you told him you’d go look for it but he snapped at you telling you to not go cuz it’s pointless, telling you that you wouldn’t remember where you left it even if he’d hit you in the head.

He walked home on his own, left you there. When he got back home to Heartslabyul he took a warm bath to calm him down. After he’s cleared his head, he realized it wasn’t fair that he snapped at you because HE had a bad day…so he got out of the bath, put some clothes on and went to call you.

You didn’t pick up, he thought it was fair, since he was a jerk anyway. He laid on his bed thinking about how he’d apologize to you tomorrow when Deuce came back from school too. After Heys have been exchanged he asked Ace if you had been taking extra classes, ace said no and asked why, Deuce told him he still saw you in your classroom when he was about to leave.

Ace stood up immediately, it was so cold out, why were you still at school? He grabbed his coat, put on a beanie, scarf and gloves and brought extra for you. He ran to go back to NRC, when he got there you were roaming the hallways, so he ran up to you scolding for staying there for that long. Then he noticed that you were clutching on to his jacket that he lend you this morning.

You were so frustrated with your forgetfulness you started crying while apologizing for being the reason why he got mad, He felt like he just shattered when he saw you like that, he gave you the tightest hug ever and told you it wasn’t your fault, and that he was sorry for being a jerk to you earlier. You two went home and he slept over at Ramshackle with you because he feels really bad for what he did he couldn’t leave you alone.

He’d repeat many mistakes, but not that one, he made sure he never repeated that one ever again, he always reassures you that you’re not a burden and that he’s not mad or annoyed with you when you forget things.

Deuce Spade

His patience capacity is literally so long it’s VERY rare that he’d be annoyed by you forgetting things

Would be so sweet about it too, whenever you’d call his name or go up to him telling him that you lost something, he would tell you that it was okay and that he’s gonna help you find it.

Would remember things for you, like where you put down your keys last, where you were about to go for the day, errand you needed to run, etc.

Doesn’t like you to fuss and get stressed over losing / misplacing / forgetting something so whenever you’d ask he doesn’t panic, instead he tells you to calm down so you two can retrace your steps

Is literally so proud of you when you remember something on your own, he’d smile brightly and praise you for remembering little things. He just loves you that much.

Would threaten to beat a guy up if they ever even think about making you feel bad for forgetting something.

Helps you with school work, though he’s struggling himself he knows that he probably remembers most out of the two of you.

He never got upset over you forgetting things, but there was this one big misunderstanding between you two a while back, NRC was going to visit RSA for a joint school event, and everyone was busy packing.

He was in Ramshackle with you, packing your things before he went back to Heartslabyul to pack his things cuz he knows you might forget important stuff.

When he was about to leave he told you which part of the school you needed to wait until they arrive so you can wait for the bus together, he also reminded Grimm but unfortunately Grimm was busy packing tuna.

Came the next day, everyone was already on the bus but you were nowhere to be found, Deuce excused himself to his dorm leader, telling him he’ll just take the next one with you, Riddle allowed it. And Deuce got off, he was worried so he searched the whole campus for you while carrying his bags.

He found you wondering around in a hallway and he was quick to approach and scold you about worrying him, turns out you were already frustrated from your own forgetfulness, but you didn’t tell him and just apologized.

He dragged you to where you were supposed to be and neither of you uttered a word, the bus came you two got on and sat down. Grimm sat on your lap asleep, you played with his ears so hoping you stress would be relieved but it didn’t.

It was too quiet and Deuce noticed that, he glanced at you to see you frustratedly fiddling with the ends of your sleeve, he sighed grabbed one of your hand and kissed the back of it.

He apologized for lashing out on you, explaining that he was just really worried, you let your head rest on his shoulder and also apologized for worrying him, he hums and kissed the crown of your head. You two feel asleep until you got RSA.

He always makes sure to tell you that he wasn’t angry at you, and that he watches his tone when speaking to you, so you don’t think that, Deuce would always resolve conflicts and misunderstandings between you two immediately.

Jamil Viper

He’s been taking care of Kalim all his life, you think he’d still be fazed by your forgetfulness? Not even in the slightest.

Plus he’s a virgo male for god’s sake you wouldn’t even know what’s going on in his head since his default face is 😐

Would always assure you isn’t mad tho.

Like Deuce, he’d remember things for you, but in his case he’d remember EVERYTHING for you.

What class do you have next? He knows where that is, and he’ll take you there

You didn’t drink water today cuz you forgot? No that’s not possible he always reminds you to.

Where did you put your phone down? He’s got it, he’d pick it up whenever you put it down and forget it.

Would find it cute that you forget most people’s names but not his, that means he’s left an unforgettable impression on you, which he still wonders what he did for you not to forget his name.

When he asked you your favorite food he was prepared to be met with a “I forgot” but surprisingly you told him, and he was happy you remember it cuz now he has something to cook for you.

When you misplace something the conversation usually goes like this: “Jamil do you know where I put my—“ “It’s in the bottom drawer of your cabinet” “I didn’t even say what it was” “was it your favorite hoodie that you stole from me?” “….yes.” “See? I knew” “okay thx love you” “love you too *continues what he was doing”

Whenever he’d feel like he’d reach his breaking point, he steps back and calms himself down before he starts an unnecessary argument.

He started doing that because he snapped at you by accident one time and he still beats himself up for saying the things that he did. He was having an extra stressful day because of school work and Kalim’s shenanigans. He had to deal with people Kalim accidentally offended by his carelessness with his words.

He had a pounding headache after defusing the situation and it wasn’t over cuz he still had school work to take care of, little did he know Kalim invited you because he knows you’re able to calm Jamil down when he feels stressed

But it turned out to be opposite this time, when he heard the knocks on his door it already pissed him off, so when he heard your voice call out to him his automatic thought was that you forgotten about something again.

He let out a loud frustrated groan so you were taken a back and you asked what was wrong. He immediately turned to you, glaring, and told you that it was you, he told you to stop being stupid and remember things on your own because he’s not you caretaker, he ranted about all the things he’s been through today and told you to never come to him again.

His words were only anger fueled, you knew that…but it still hurt a lot, he said it with such spite that it stung like venom so you only responded with a small ‘sorry’ and you closed his door and left Scarabia without uttering another word.

You didn’t see each other for a whole 3 days, you avoided running into him, looking at him, just avoided him in general thinking he was still mad at you. He noticed this because whenever he’d walk up to you, you’d turn around or walk right pass him.

He felt that you needed space and he gave it to you but he really did start to miss you, he knew about the things he said, he knew how it must’ve made you feel, it sickens him to his stomach that you had to hear that coming from him of all people.

Jamil couldn’t sleep at night, and this was the last time because he got up and went to your dormitory. He had to fix this, he threw pebbles at your window to get your attention, and it did. You poked your head at the window to see him standing there, you were taken aback cuz it was so late, so you went down and met him outside.

You hurriedly ask what he was doing out here so late and all he did in response was drop his head on your shoulder. He wanted to pull you close but he chose not to yet. He apologized and told you that he never meant all those horrible things, when you started crying he pulled you closer to him peppering kisses on your shoulder mumbling i love yous and I’m sorrys. He slept there for the night making up for all those days he couldn’t hold you.

When he remembers that memory and how he hurt you, he’d suddenly go up to you and hug you, reminding you that he loves you and pressing butterfly kisses on your cheek, just resting against you, until he forgets about it again.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x mc #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland hcs #leona kingscholar headcannons #leona kingscholar x reader #leona kingscholar #ace trappola headcannons #ace trappola x reader #ace trappola #deuce spade headcannons #deuce spade x reader #deuce spade #jamil viper headcannons #jamil viper x reader #jamil viper

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solarwoniii · 1 year

Note

heyyy!! just wondering if i could request “zb1 legal line reaction to catching their s/o masturbating” hehehehheheehehe if not all goodzz 💗💗

reaction to catching you touching yourself ! zb1 legal line

smut, crack, some fluff ! includes jiwoong, zhanghao, hanbin, matthew, taerae and ricky

contains ; dacryphilia, punishments, i think thats all? lmk if i missed any T^T

a/n ; THANK U FOR UR REQUEST ♡ HAD SO MUCH FUN DOING THIS

jiwoong ;

would laugh at you but not in a cute funny quirky silly way

that low kind of dominant chuckle that makes you realise.

you fucked up.

he'd pull up a chair beside the bed and insist for you to continue in that same scary tone ur mum talks in when u forget to wash the dishes 😰😰😰😨😨

and then he'll force you to make yourself cum until you're crying while he sat there and watched because you're not allowed to stop until he says.

then he'll finally touch you.

with his fingertips.

just to fuck with you more because he's a petty little bitch

edging you until you're shaking, eyes rolling back, body arching

and then, and only then will you get to cum.

zhanghao ;

finds it cute that you think you're so big and strong now

puts ur ass in its place so fast 🫣🫣

love bites all over you

your body is his canvas and his marks are his art 😵😶

actually, this timing is perfect

he'd been waiting for you to misbehave so he could try out the new vibrator he got for you

edges you again and again, just to rip away your orgasm and have you crying

when you finally cum you both know damn well it's not over 💀 keeps the vibrator in that exact spot and refuses to move it until you cum another three times.

i'm sorry i just think mean dom hao is extremely accurate and attractive

hanbin ;

i think he would genuinely laugh at you 💀

and you would try to be mad at him for laughing at you but his stupid laugh is unfortunately extremely contagious 😭😔

when he's done laughing at you he'll come and help you

i think it would be all giggly and fluffy and cute though

and then you would cuddle naked (i feel like hanbin wld enjoy this so much during aftercare esp idk) and gossip LMFAO

matthew ;

GETS SO SHY I SWEAR JSJSJSJS

THE PERSONIFICATION OF 😳

quickly closes the door behind him before anyone else can see what he's seeing

'd-do u want me to . . .' 'o-oh ok'

he's flustered but he will help you feel good 😭

turns into a cute little mutual masturbation session after u notice the boner building up in his pants from the sight of u T^T

when you both finish he'll clean you up and then be a little cutie patootie

'uhmmm there was this disney movie i really wanted to watch with you so could we maybe do that now ? 👉👈'

taerae ;

just smiles and locks the door behind him when he realises what you're doing

'do you need my help baby?'

he'll sit beside you and replace your hand with his

helps you reach the best orgasm of your life with his skilled fingers

idk i genuinely don't think he would get mad

but he'll remind you that you can always come to him if you're feeling needy.

kisses

so many kisses

he'll give you more than his fingers after as well if you still want more ;))

ricky ;

YEAH THATS RIGHT WE'RE BACK TO PUSSY SLAPPER RICKY BECAUSE MY LOVE MIYUKI PUT THE THOUGHT INTO MY HEAD AND I REFUSE TO LET GO

when he walks in i think he'd get flustered but he'd quickly cover it up because being seen like that by you hurts his precious ego

AGAIN LOW DOMINANT CHUCKLE he takes after jiwoong because he aspires to one day be that cool and strong but u already know he's a cute little softie

'if you wanted me to treat you like a little whore you could've just said so, baby.'

AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH 😭😶🫣😵😳😰😭😶

gets you up on all fours and spanks your pussy until it's swollen and dripping.

then he'll mark your body up and take photos of you for his little collection 😨

eats you out (prolly makes u sit on his face too bc he's a little freak)

#zb1 #zb1 smut #zerobaseone #zb1 jiwoong #zb1 zhanghao #zb1 hanbin #zb1 matthew #zb1 taerae #zb1 ricky #zerobaseone smut #zb1 fluff #zb1 drabbles #zb1 smau

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lowkeychenle · 1 year

Text

The Last Straw [ZCL] (M)

Description: Chenle has been your best friend for as long as you can remember. Being in love with him isn't easy, until you find out he reciprocates those feelings (thanks to Cockblocker!Jaemin).

(This was requested!! Thank you for the request and I'll respond to the ask with this link <3)

Genre: Fluff/Smut

Content Warnings: Explicit (protected) sex, I have a thing for Chenle saying pretty girl so excuse that in almost all of my Chenle fics rip me, Chenle is just perfect okay but also sassy

Word Count: 3,742

Pairing: Zhong Chenle x Reader (feat. Cockblocker!Jaemin because he's a mess)

Juliet's Masterlist

(also I made a moodboard for this one instead of using gif and i think the moodboards are so much more fun so I'll prolly make these from now on! Disclaimer: I don't own any of these photos!)

“Respectfully, if you don’t knock that off, I’m gonna swat you upside the head.” You give Jaemin a pointed look from your spot on Chenle’s couch. “You’re just mad that he beat you again.”

“He cheated.” Jaemin crosses his arms over his chest, returning your glare with ease. “No way he’s actually that good at this shit.”

“I think I’m pretty good at everything, honestly.” Chenle shrugs, leaning back against the cushion and resting his arms along the top, fingertips brushing your shoulder.

You and Chenle have been best friends for years. Longer than he’s known Jaemin, that’s for sure. No way would you take Jaemin’s side over Chenle’s, even if he so happened to be in the wrong.

You look at him with a smile, which he returns, brow quirking in response. Jaemin grimaces at the two of you.

“At least let me leave before you start making out.” He scrunches up his nose. “Disgusting.”

The tips of your ears burn as your attention shoots over to Jaemin. At the same time, Chenle launches a throw pillow in his direction, leaning forward as if he’s about to stand up. Jaemin holds his hands up in mock surrender as he swats it away.

“Don’t shoot the messenger,” he says, running his fingers through his faded pink hair. “And don’t have too much fun by yourselves.”

When the door closes behind him, it leaves you and Chenle in awkward silence. You can’t lie and say you’d never thought about kissing him, but not recently. If ‘recently’ is only the past few days. There’s something about the general confidence Chenle has that makes you curious.

“Um.” Chenle clears his throat, pressing his lips together in a thin line. “Wanna pick something to watch? I’ll make popcorn.”

“Absolutely.” You give an exaggerated nod, lunging forward to grab the remote off the coffee table.

You think everything will go back to normal after he returns with a bowl. He sits next to you, putting his arm over your shoulders again and shifting until he’s pressed comfortably against you. This isn’t abnormal, but for some reason, it has your heart racing much faster than it should.

The show plays for maybe two minutes before he clears his throat. You think nothing of it until he does it again, pulling your attention to his face. The lights inside the house are off, but the sun is resting just above the horizon, painting an orange glow on his skin.

“What’s wrong with you?” you ask. “Do you need some water? You haven’t even had any popcorn yet.”

He blinks. Once. Twice. His eyes even flutter across your face.

“This is weird. What’s going on?” You frown at him.

“Have you ever thought about it?” He quirks an eyebrow.

You chuckle. “Thought about what?”

“Nevermind. Forget it.” He shakes his head, leaning back with a slight pout to his lips.

“No, tell me.” You gently smack his chest. “Don’t do that.”

“Fine. Just remember you made me say this,” he grumbles, sitting up again. He’s only inches away from you like this. “Have you ever thought about kissing me?”

“I mean…yeah.” You shrug. “We’re around each other all the time. I’ve literally seen you kiss people before. Nothing wrong with a little curiosity, you know?”

“Why haven’t you asked?”

“Asked what?” You laugh before you stop yourself. “To kiss you? Are you insane?”

“You just said you wanted to,” he points out, shifting closer. “Why wonder when you can know for real?”

“You want to?” Your eyes widen as they dart down to his lips unintentionally.

You watch his pupils dilate, his eyelids threatening to flutter shut as he nods. He’s so close to you, you feel his short, choppy breaths. What the hell are you doing? This is the last thing that should happen—in no world is Chenle kissing you a good idea. You’ll fall into a rabbit hole and probably accidentally admit how you want more than that.

No way in hell you’re going to stop him when he’s looking at you like that, though. He hesitates, meeting your gaze one last time, a thousand questions moving from his mind to yours. There’s only one you need to answer, and you do. Slowly, you nod.

The initial brush has sparks igniting along your skin, and you instinctively grip onto the sleeve of his T-shirt. Usually, he’d tease you for something like that. He’d say something about how you’re trying to strip him down, but he doesn’t seem to have any other thought besides kissing you right now. This is the most attractive you’ve ever seen him.

When he really kisses you, his full lips pressing gently against yours, you swear electricity courses through the two of you, the sparks enough to make you gasp. You’d imagined this plenty of times, but never did you think it could be like this.

He sighs, bringing his hand up to weave it through your hair. You push yourself closer to him and wrap your arms around his shoulders.

The second his tongue runs across your bottom lip, you let out a short, quiet moan. Instead of taking a moment to tease you about it, he uses the opening. The two of you battle for dominance, but when his thumb rubs against your scalp, you know you’re no match for him.

Everything around you heats up, and as much as you hate to deny it, you feel your panties dampen. Your body tingles with excitement as he guides your back down against the couch, finding the spot between your legs he fits in perfectly. No matter what, you don’t dare open your eyes or pull away right now. If this is a dream, you sure as hell don’t want to wake from it.

As he settles on top of you, you gasp when you feel him semi-hard through his shorts. Before you can psych yourself out of it, you reach for the hem of his shirt and start sliding it up. He takes the hint, pulling away to tug the fabric over his head. Unfortunately for you, you don’t have time to admire him before his lips are on yours again.

“I was almost all the way home when I—what the fuck?” A familiar voice from the doorway has Chenle launching away from you.

The trance is broken, the moment is gone, and all you’re left with is burning cheeks and instant shame under Jaemin’s scrutiny.

Chenle scrambles for his shirt, and instead of putting it back on, he puts it over his lap in a poor attempt to hide his arousal. You can’t bring yourself to sit up, your palms still flat on your face.

“I didn’t know you guys actually did that.” Jaemin grins, placing his hands on his hips and smiling widely. “Good job, buddy.”

“We don’t.” Chenle rolls his eyes. “What did you even need?’

“I left my jacket here.” Jaemin points over to the kitchen, where it’s draped over one of the dining room chairs.

“Okay…so how about you grab it…and you go?” Chenle glances up to the ceiling, as if he’s asking for strength, and then blinks rapidly at Jaemin. “Like, now.”

You still haven’t moved, only spreading your fingers apart to look at Chenle.

“Right. Yeah, duh.” Jaemin rushes to get it, not acknowledging either of you again until he’s at the door. He stops, reaching into his pocket for his wallet before he tosses something at Chenle. “Make sure you’re safe! Bye!”

He leaves, and when you finally get the courage to look up, Chenle has his head in his palm. A condom is about a foot in front of him, sending another wave of embarrassment to your face.

“So…” Chenle trails off. “Maybe we should rewind the show.”

Disappointment flutters around your heart. “Uh, yeah. Sure.” You gulp and grab the remote. Regardless of how much you wish you could yell at Jaemin for interrupting, the urge to continue doesn’t subside.

“(Y/N).” He sighs, brows furrowing. “I need to tell you something.”

“Yeah?”

“I want to do that again.” He leans his head back on the couch, and this time, you pay close attention to the expanse of his neck. The two of you don’t hide things from each other, so nothing is off limits—you’ve heard all about the things he likes, and neck kisses are one of his weaknesses. Your mouth waters at the thought of it.

“Me too.”

“But I need you to know it’s not just…it’s not all I want.” He closes his eyes, cringing at his own words.

Your brain doesn’t compute what he means at first—you assume something completely different. “Are you saying you want to have sex?”

His attention shoots to you. “No! Well, yeah, but that’s not what I meant by that. I have feelings for you, dumbass."

“For me?” You snort, half-choking on a laugh until you realize he’s serious. “Why?”

“You’re an idiot.” He rolls his eyes and groans. “Why wouldn’t I? Have you seen yourself? Met yourself? You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, but if you even try to repeat that to anyone I will vehemently deny it until the day I die.”

“Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that?” Your brain whirls at the sight of him, and your entire body yearns to be close to his again.

“It’s the truth. I’ve liked you for a while now, but I’ve never had the courage to say anything.” Chenle chews the inside of his cheek, pondering. The thought of Chenle’s confidence wavering when it comes to you has your heart tumbling in your chest.

“You know what this means?” You quirk an eyebrow at him.

“Hm?”

“Your mom is going to be so excited.” You bite back a smile, but it breaks through anyway when you see him glare at you, narrowing his eyes.

“Why would you bring my mom up right now? Are you trying to make me go soft?” His words send heat to your cheeks, and it takes everything in you not to tap them to snap yourself out of it.

“You’re still hard after Jaemin came in here like that?” You push his shoulder.

“I was on top of you, dude. There’s only one way I’ll be able to get this thing down, and hopefully, it’ll be with you and not my hand.” He takes a deep breath. “Whatever you decide is good with me.”

Leaving Chenle to his hand is the last thing you’d even think about doing right now. You don’t want to move too quickly, but when he looks away from you briefly, you use that as an opportunity to straddle his lap. He gulps and shifts beneath you, immediately gripping your waist.

“And now you’re on top of me,” he mutters. “I’m gonna have so many dreams about this.”

Before your nerves can overtake you, you dip your head down until you're mere centimeters from him. He wasn’t lying about how hard he is, his bulge pressing beautifully against you. At this point, you curse yourself for wearing denim shorts. You’d be feeling it so much more if you were in something softer.

“You should know,” he says, right hand trailing up to cup your cheek. “We can take this slow if you want. I don’t want to rush you. Everything needs to be done right.”

“Kiss me, dumbass.”

He grins softly, only for a moment before his beautiful mouth is on yours again, working magic you’re sure only he’s capable of. You live for the sounds the two of you make, your lips moving together in harmony as if you’re made for each other.

At this point, you think you just may be.

You sit still on top of him, not quite wanting to elevate things yet, and he doesn’t push you. He lets you take everything at your own pace. Eventually, your tongues meet again, but you don’t fight him this time. You allow him to explore your mouth, sighing at how skilled he is at it. When he pulls away, his teeth gently digging into your bottom lip to tug it, you groan, your hips finally moving on their own accord. His smug look quickly fades as his breath shudders. You grind down on him, his hardness gliding along your clit through way too many sets of fabric.

“Chenle,” you groan. “I need you.”

“Patience, pretty girl,” he hums, moving along to your rhythm. “Need you to keep going, okay? Don’t stop.”

You didn’t intend to. Instead of waiting for his next move, your lips connect with his neck, nipping and licking along the skin you know is sensitive. You feel his soft moan before you hear it, and something inside of you snaps.

“Damn it, Chenle, I need more.”

“Do you?” His gaze darkens when he meets yours, fingers still weaved in your hair.

“I need you.”

He wets his lips, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he nods. “We should go to my room.”

Doing your best to keep grinding down on him, you reach down to the bottom of your T-shirt, making quick work of it so it can join Chenle’s on the couch. He stares at you, attention everywhere.

“I lied,” he breathes out, shaking his head. “I don’t like you. I’m in love with you. Let me take you to my room.”

The confession sends you reeling for half a second, and then you’re sliding off his lap to allow him to get up. You’re already weak at the knees thinking of all the things about to happen between the two of you, but you don’t dare say anything else as he bends to grab Jaemin’s condom from the ground, intertwines your fingers, and practically drags you toward his bedroom.

Right when you step foot through the threshold, he closes the door behind you and pushes you up against it. His lips work harshly on yours, leaving you to whine into him. Without wasting another second, his fingers pop the button on your shorts, and he pushes them down your thighs. They slide to the floor, leaving you in your bra and panties. You almost get self-conscious at the way he’s looking at you, but his hand starts ghosting along your inner thighs.

“I wonder how wet you are.” His voice is dangerously low, sending all sorts of shivers up your spine.

“Why don’t you feel and find out?” you taunt him, rocking your hips toward him.

With one quick movement, he unclasps your bra, leaving your top half bare as his head dips down. He nips at the flesh, and you swear you feel your heart pounding in your throat. Taking your nipple into his mouth, he swirls along it. He tweaks the other, and a moan escapes you before you can even try to hold it back.

“How about I make you cum on my face?” he mumbles, nipping as his mouth trails downward.

Then he’s on his knees in front of you. Never in your wildest dreams had you ever imagined a man like Chenle on his knees for you. His fingers hook in the hem of your panties, and he glances up at you.

“Are you sure this is okay?”

You nod, but it’s not enough for him.

“Say it out loud,” he commands. “I need to hear you say it.”

“It’s more than okay. Please do something.” Your head thuds against the wood of the door.

He smirks, tugging your panties down to the floor. Hoisting your leg up on his shoulder, he leans forward to lick a broad stripe up your core. You’re not sure where to grab, but you can’t find anything to hold onto except for the door handle.

Pausing, he reaches upward, guiding one of your hands to his hair. You take the hint, grasping onto him for support. Your one leg keeping you standing is already shaking, and when his tongue prods at your slit, you shudder.

His nose nudges your clit, and you push him further between your legs.

He pulls away, mouth shining with your arousal. “My pretty girl has such a pretty pussy. I could fucking eat you forever.” And just like that, he returns to his ministrations, wrapping his lips around your sensitive bud and flicking it with his tongue.

You cry out his name like a mantra, grinding into his face while he doesn’t dare let up for even a moment. Knots form in your stomach—the kind that have your hips bucking wildly—and suddenly, the repeated ‘Chenle’s escaping your mouth start to taste so, so sweet.

And then you crumble, hardly able to stay afloat. He slows down, helping you ride out your high before placing one last kiss on your clit and standing up.

His lips meet yours, and the taste of you doesn’t do a thing to bother you when you’re so dazed from your orgasm. He moves down to the sensitive spot by your ear, and you gasp, tightening your grip on him.

“Chenle.” You pull him up to look at you. “I love you, too.”

His breathing shutters as he spins you around, mouths connected harshly, and walks you back toward his bed. The glow of the sun has faded, the night sky surrounding the two of you in delicate, gentle silver light as he lowers you onto his mattress.

He pauses, eyes trailing over your body slowly, as if in appreciation. Neither of you moves until his hands move down to his sweatpants. You’re barely able to see him as he grabs the condom from his pocket and before pushing them and his underwear to the floor. He steps closer to you, gripping your thighs and tugging you to the edge.

“Are you sure?” he whispers. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

You sit up and take the condom from him. Once you rip the wrapper open, he gulps, watching as you reach down. A small sound escapes him when you wrap your fingers around his cock and stroke it a few times.

“Yes,” you say. “I’m sure.”

You roll it on him. He barely gives you enough time to finish with it before he crushes his mouth to yours with every ounce of feeling he has.

Scooting back on his bed, he climbs on to join you, stopping only when he hovers over you. His face is so close to yours, you almost moan at how swollen his lips are. He lines himself up with your entrance, making sure to brush against your clit a couple times.

And then he’s pushing inside you, stretching you slowly while he waits for your reaction. Your eyes roll and you lift your hips to get him deeper. He pauses, nuzzling against your shoulder, shuddering breaths fanning across your skin.

You close your eyes, letting your head fall back against the mattress as you adjust to the way he fits. He starts slow, pulling out only a bit to push back in. You weave your fingers through his hair, stroking his scalp in encouragement as he picks up his pace. His hips roll against yours, each thrust pulling sounds from you.

“God,” he mumbles, running his tongue along your collarbone.

“Kiss me,” you say, tugging at him. “Please.”

His lips are on your seconds later, surprisingly gentle. Your heart thuds in your chest. He swallows every moan, reaching up to intertwine intertwine your fingers together. With your hand pinned next to your head, you get lost in his rhythm. Everything around you is unbearably hot, skin sticking to skin while sounds of your wetness fills the room with each of his movements. Your brain whirls and you swear you’re going crazy the longer he’s inside you.

The pleasure is so intense, you doubt you’ve ever felt this way before. Your body shakes from his movements, and you do your best to match him. You feel knots forming in your stomach, but you don’t want it to be over yet, you want to be in this bed with him forever while he makes love to you.

He shifts closer, and you cry out when he slides right into your spot. His mouth rests against yours, gazes locked as he repeats the action over and over.

Releasing your hand, he reaches between the two of you, fingers connecting with your clit. You’re unashamed of your loud moan, especially as your orgasm hits like a tidal wave. Arching into him, you grip his shoulders.

He curses, face contorting in ecstasy as you clench around him like a vice. With a low groan, he snaps his hips into yours, sucking in a breath as he reaches his climax. He pants, setting his forehead on yours with his eyes closed.

“Good fucking God,” he mutters. “You’re amazing.”

Your mind is so shattered and overwhelmed, you can’t do anything but giggle. He’s shocked for a moment, but he joins you, kissing you once more before gently pulling out of you. You slump into his mattress, staring up at the ceiling fan.

“I’ll be right back,” Chenle tells you, rolling off of the bed to dispose of the condom.

Sweat sticks uncomfortably to your skin, but not even that can wipe the smile off your face. When he returns, he finds his place next to you, and regardless of the heat, he pulls you to his chest.

“You okay?” he asks.

You nod slowly, eyes fluttering shut. “Mm.”

“Holy shit, I fucked you dumb.” He laughs, squeezing you.

You give him the best glare you’re able to muster, but it must not be that great, because his smile doesn’t fade.

“So.” Brushing your hair behind your ear, he raises an eyebrow at you. “I think we should go out on a date. Or something.”

“Right now?” You stare at him, dumbfounded.

“No, not right now.” He shakes his head. “Soon, though. Like tomorrow.”

You grin, nodding. “I want that.”

“Good. Me too.” Chenle cradles you closer to him.

Grabbing the small blanket folded at the foot of his bed, he brings it up to cover both of you and hums when you throw your arm around him.

“I love you,” he says, voice so soft it’s almost lost in the night.

“I love you, too,” you reply with ease.

With his steady heartbeat as your lullaby, you have no problem falling asleep in his grasp.

#nct dream #nct imagines #nct #nct scenarios #nct dream smut #chenle #zhong chenle #chenle imagine #nct chenle #nct dream chenle #chenle fluff #chenle smut #chenle x reader #chenle scenarios

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