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loljaeyunz · 14 days

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𝐒𝐔𝐍 & 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 | 𝐏𝐒𝐇

PAIRING: neglected prince! sunghoon x princess! reader

SUMMARY: park sunghoon, the forsaken prince of the south, had always lived in the shadows of jaeyun's favor. but then you arrived. your presence ignited a flame within him that he had long thought extinguished, and he became profoundly attached to you.

but, when the news of your marriage to jaeyun, the very bastard who had usurped everything sunghoon held dear—reached him, his world shattered once again. now, consumed by helplessness and bitter longing, he understands that no matter how desperately you both cling to each other, you are slipping through his fingers. there is nothing he can do but watch as the love you share is slowly pulled away, knowing that no amount of trying can change the fate that’s already been written. but still, he is willing to try.

GENRE: royalty, love triangle, forbidden love, angst, smut, fluff if you squint

WORD COUNT: 9k

RELEASED: 12th september

TAGLIST: @dollyyun @indigoez @shuichi-sama @capri-cuntz @jiminie-08

@isa942572 @tasnim10 @alienqbrain @arcimedais @irers @mitmit01

@304files @sjakewrld @superbbananananana @deezbin @woorcve

WARNINGS: poor attempt at angst, sunghoon kinda desperate, unprotected sex, pull out method, fingering, breast play,

***

sunghoon was born into a world of privilege and wealth. he was surrounded by unending luxury since he was the lone heir to the royal line. his father planned a sumptuous feast to celebrate his birth and mark the coming of the beloved prince.

everything he could ask for was at his fingertips. he was educated by the most esteemed scholars, dressed in the finest silks, and surrounded by attendants eager to fulfill his every whim. he received expert sword training, had access to the most prestigious collections of art and music, and was given a magnificent garden by his mother.

he embraced every luxury and opportunity, fully prepared to ascend the throne one day. but everything changed when he turned ten. the king, to sunghoon's utter disbelief, revealed the existence of another son, jaeyun, an illegitimate child born of a mistress.

people were at ease calling jaeyun the king's son, even though he lacked the royal qualities sunghoon so clearly displayed and looked nothing like the king. yet, what infuriated sunghoon most was the king announcing jaeyun as the crown prince, casting aside the rightful heir who carried the true royal blood.

sunghoon was left in a storm of anger and betrayal, unable to understand how his father could deprive him of his birthright and give preference to a kid who, in his opinion, was just a fake.

jaeyun swiftly rose to become the beloved, kind kid of the castle. and as he became the kingdom's favorite, sunghoon watched in rage. it was almost like a bad joke. nobility, attendants, and even royal officials all admired the mistress's kid, the bastard. they spoke of him as the real example of morality and commended his generosity, compassion, and soft heart. in the meantime, sunghoon was ignored, written off as nothing more than a spoilt, pampered prince who was born into wealth and status but didn't deserve the affection of the people.

the world around him refused to treat sunghoon with respect or justice, and his mother was the only one who stood up for him. but, despite her best efforts, the bitterness that was consuming him remained, and she was unable to protect him from the constant barrage of rumors that were echoing through the hallways and comparing him to jaeyun.

sunghoon hated jaeyun for stealing everything from him, including his position, title, and the affection that was rightfully his. but what he hated even more was jaeyun's constant attempts to build a bond between them, as if they were meant to be brothers. he always smiled and stretched out to sunghoon with his boundless generosity. sunghoon couldn't stand it. he hated that every time he made jaeyun cry or called him derogatory names, or pushed him away, jaeyun would always forgive him. that unwavering kindness served as a constant reminder that jaeyun will always be the preferred one, which only made unghoon more enraged. he never referred to him as a brother since, to him, jaeyun was only a bastard.

but there was one thing sunghoon believed that the bastard couldn’t have; you.

you were the only princess of a faraway kingdom, visiting theirs for the first time when you were seventeen. sunghoon first met you in his garden one bright morning, where the soft sunlight cast a golden glow on you as you were determined to gather a tangerine from one of the trees. he stood in amused silence as he watched you struggle, your expensive dress catching on branches as you failed miserably at climbing the tree.

“i do not recall permitting strangers to enter my garden?” he called out to you, a smirk playing on his lips. the sound of his words frightened you to the point that you lost your balance and fell off the tree. but before you could hit the ground, sunghoon was there, swift and steady, his strong arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you against him. he held you close, his grip firm and protective, your faces mere inches apart as you both froze in the moment, his gaze fixed on yours. “stealing tangerines, my lady?”

he liked you in that moment, your wide-eyed surprise and the way you had been so determined despite the absurdity of climbing a tree in such fine clothes. there was something endearing in your boldness, in the way you held your breath as if caught in a mischievous act. sunghoon found himself lingering a little longer, not letting you go immediately, enjoying the closeness. and though he spoke of tangerines, it was clear that his interest had already shifted entirely to you.

but he knew he had fallen in love with you when you began treating him with kindness, not out of obligation like everyone else in the castle did. your kindness wasn’t because he was a prince or someone you had to impress. it was genuine, natural, and so effortlessly sincere. you spoke to him as if he were just sunghoon, not the forgotten heir, not the spoiled prince, but simply a person. it was in the way you laughed with him, how you listened, and how you seemed to see him for who he truly was. and that, more than anything, captivated him.

he sought your attention whenever you came, always finding excuses to be near you. whether it was arranging to meet in the garden again or subtly positioning himself where you would be, he was driven by a desire to be close to you. your presence, your genuine warmth, became the highlight of his days. he cherished every moment, every conversation, and every smile, desperate to savor the connection he had come to treasure more than anything else in his world.

you made him run after you for a whole two years, tirelessly pursuing you with an intensity that left no doubt about his feelings. he begged for your attention, presented you with countless gifts, and did everything in his power to win your heart, all in an effort to prove his devotion to you.

every time you visited his kingdom, he was there, waiting, hoping, and showing you just how much you meant to him, making you feel as though you were the only girl gracing the world with your beauty and grace.

and finally, you accepted him into your heart.

you began meeting him in secret, sneaking away from the prying eyes of the court. you both knew that keeping your relationship hidden was the only way to avoid the mess that would come from the royal court’s intense scrutiny. if people found out, it could create a scandal, stirring up all sorts of trouble and judgment. with sunghoon’s complicated position and the favoritism toward jaeyun, you wanted to protect what you had from all that drama. so, your secret meetings were your way of keeping your love safe and away from the harsh realities of court life.

you knew he truly loved you. it wasn’t just in the way he looked at you, but in every small thing he did to keep you close. his love for you ran so deep, it felt like something unbreakable, something that would make anyone jealous if they knew about it. he didn’t just see you as an escape from his struggles; you became his reason for peace, the one person who made all the weight of the world disappear when he was with you. and as much as he adored you, your love for him was just as fierce, a connection so intense that it felt like nothing could come between you, not even the royal court or the kingdom’s expectations.

though, it had all been an illusion – an illusion you both had created in your minds, one that allowed you to live in happiness for a time. but it was always fragile, destined to shatter eventually.

it came crashing down when your families made an unexpected arrangement – one that bound you to jaeyun instead. the announcement that you were to wed him, and not sunghoon, tore through everything you had shared. the life you had envisioned with sunghoon vanished in an instant, leaving only the cold, harsh truth of the kingdom's expectations.

he thought you were his, that no matter what titles jaeyun held or how beloved he was by the kingdom, you belonged to sunghoon alone. jaeyun could never take that from him, or so he thought. but sunghoon was mistaken. the moment the marriage preparations started, he realized with crushing clarity that even you, the one thing he believed jaeyun could never possess, had been about to taken from him.

sunghoon’s frustration boiled over in the days following the preparations. the thought of you standing beside jaeyun, the very person who had stolen everything from him, sent waves of anger coursing through his veins. he couldn’t understand how fate could be so cruel – how it could give him someone as precious as you, only to rip you away and place you in the arms of the bastard he despised.

that’s why sunghoon couldn’t just sit still and watch you slip away. his anger turned to determination, and one day he stormed into his father’s chambers. he didn’t know that was going to be the first mistake he made.

“how can you be so blind?! jaeyun is nothing but a bastard from the slums, not even your real child. and now you’re marrying off the princess of the east to him? this is a disgrace and an insult to the royal family and to her!”

after sunghoon’s outburst, the king’s eyes narrowed with a mix of suspicion and fury. “you have no right to question my decisions! what is it that’s making you act out so violently?! is there a secret affair between you and the princess that you’re trying to protect? speak now before i take drastic measures!”

sunghoon stood paralyzed, his throat tightening as he struggled to find the right words. fear gripped him, thinking that disclosing any details about his relationship with you would put you at risk. he couldn’t afford for you to be harmed in any way. the words caught in his throat, and his silence only served to heighten the king’s suspicion. unbeknownst to him, this inability to respond only made him appear more guilty in his father’s eyes.

the king laughed bitterly, a harsh, derisive sound that filled the room. “so, you have no defense, only silence. how convenient. it seems you have been hiding something after all.” the king walked up to sunghoon, his hands clasped behind and a sick smile adorning his face. “pray tell, son, do you truly believe yourself a more suitable match for the princess? do you imagine that a mere boy like yourself could bring her the happiness she deserves? do you even understand the nature of women, boy? jaeyun will prove a far better husband for her than you ever could. he embodies all that you lack—kindness, duty, wisdom, and the adoration of the people. most importantly, he will be a true family man, qualities you sorely lack.”

sunghoon’s jaw clenched, and eyes fell to the floor, his father's words cutting through him like a blade. he felt as if he was nothing more than a pampered fool, unworthy of the love he sought and the life he was born into. he clenched his fists, struggling to push back the crushing weight of his own insecurities.

“she will wed jaeyun, and if you possess even a shred of regard for her well-being, you will abandon this foolish defiance. if your love for her is genuine, then you will step aside with dignity, for any further insolence will only bring suffering upon her—suffering caused by your own unworthy and unlovable nature.” with those final words, the kind left no room for further discussion, his decision made clear.

his heart, once filled with certainty and defiance, now cracked under the weight of doubt. he felt a wave of self-loathing wash over him. the king’s contemptuous questions echoed in his mind, making him question his worth and his place in the world. was he truly so unfit to love you? had his anger and resentment blinded him to his own flaws? was jaeyun truly the better man—the one who could offer you everything sunghoon never could? the thought of stepping aside, of watching you live a life with jaeyun, made his chest tighten with unbearable pain. he had always believed you were his, that his love was enough, but now... now, he wasn’t sure of anything.

a dark seed of insecurity planted itself in his heart, twisting his anger into something deeper, more dangerous. it was no longer just about losing his birthright; now, it was about losing you, the one person who made him feel like more than just a shadow. the idea of you loving jaeyun, of smiling for him the way you once smiled for sunghoon, was enough to drive him mad. but still, the king’s words echoed in his mind: if you truly love her, you will let her go. and for the first time in his life, sunghoon didn’t know if he was strong enough to do that.

and as he watched you across the table one dinner night, his gaze never left you. he observed your every movement as you sat beside jaeyun, the way your hand delicately rested near his, how jaeyun leaned closer to speak with you. every soft smile you gave jaeyun felt like a dagger in his chest. sunghoon’s jaw tightened as he gripped his cup, a torrent of emotions raging inside him.

that should be me.

she should be marrying me, not him.

unable to take it any longer, sunghoon abruptly stood, the sound of his chair scraping across the floor echoing through the room. all eyes shifted towards him, but he didn’t care. his gaze remained fixed on you.

“this charade has gone on long enough,” sunghoon declared, his voice cutting through the murmur of conversation. “i have no time for this.”

the king’s face darkened with anger as he seethed, his voice harsh and commanding. “sit down, sunghoon. the evening is not over, yet.”

sunghoon met his father’s glare with a defiant stare. “i refuse to be part of this farce,” he replied sharply. his eyes then shifted to you, and in that fleeting moment, his gaze was filled with longing. “i will take my leave now, your majesty.”

without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and strode out of the hall, his footsteps echoing as he made his way toward the exit. he threw one last meaningful glance over his shoulder, his eyes lingering on you with an intensity that spoke of all he couldn’t say. the door slammed shut behind him, leaving an empty seat and a heavy silence in his wake.

that night, sunghoon knew for certain that he couldn’t bear the thought of jaeyun’s hands on you. even the mere idea of jaeyun taking what was meant to be sunghoon’s was unbearable. his insecurities, his pain, all fed into a singular, desperate resolve: he would make you his. you might be promised to jaeyun by royal decree, but sunghoon would make sure that it was his touch, his smell, his presence, that lingered in your thoughts, that stayed with you long after the wedding vows were spoken. he couldn’t let jaeyun steal this last piece of his world, and he was willing to keep you tied to him, heart and soul.

you wander through the garden, eyes scanning the surroundings as you search for your lover. you find him in his garden, as always. the early morning sun bathes the greenery in a soft, golden glow, its light just beginning to filter through the trees. the air is crisp, but you feel a simmering frustration inside as you approach sunghoon, who stands with his back to you, staring into the distance.

"what was that all about last night?" you ask, your tone sharp but not quite angry. it’s more of an irritated curiosity, the kind that demands an answer but without real fury behind it.

he doesn’t turn immediately, but you can see the tension in his posture. after a moment, he glances over his shoulder, eyes meeting yours.

“you can’t seriously be asking me that.” he says quietly, though there’s an edge to his voice.

“i am,” you reply, stepping closer. “i don’t understand why you acted that way in front of everyone.”

sunghoon finally turns to face you fully, crossing his arms as he leans back against the stone bench. his gaze is intense, like the morning sun itself. “what else was i supposed to do? sit there and pretend everything’s fine? pretend i don’t care when jaeyun’s sitting next to you like-” he cuts himself off, jaw tightening.

you sigh, crossing your own arms. “you can’t keep doing that, sunghoon. storming off, making a scene. it only makes things harder.”

“for who?” he snaps. “for me? for you? or for that bastard, who gets everything handed to him while i-” his voice wavers before he swallows hard, regaining his composure.

there’s a beat of silence between you two, the only sound being the soft rustle of the leaves in the breeze. the frustration still lingers in the air, but underneath it is something deeper, unspoken, pulling at both of you.

abruptly, sunghoon closes the gap, his hands finding your cheeks with a surprising tenderness. the suddenness of his touch makes your breath hitch, your heart skipping a beat as his fingers brush lightly against your skin, holding you in place with an intensity that leaves you momentarily frozen.

“you don’t get it, do you, my love?” sunghoon’s voice trembles slightly, his eyes locking onto yours. “you don’t get how i can’t bear to see jaeyun near you,” he says, his nose brushing gently against yours, the touch almost tender, as if he’s trying to bridge the gap between your hearts.

“stop, someone could see us.” you attempt to push him away, but he stands his ground, his body staying firmly in place as if anchored to the spot.

“no, you don’t get that even just the thought of him breathing the same air as you drives me to the edge of madness,” he continues, his voice growing more urgent. “you, my love, don’t get how much it hurts that he has what should be mine - that you are to wed him, even when you should only be mine.” sunghoon’s grip tightens on your cheeks, his eyes never leaving yours.

you hold his wrists, your voice filled with emotion. “don’t say it like that, sunghoon. i am yours, always and forever. not a day goes by that i am not yours. i shall be yours forever. my beloved prince, the only thing keeping us apart is the world. i need you to feel and know that nothing, not even a promise or a crown, can ever change the reality of who we are.”

the weight of everything presses down on you in that moment, his touch, his words, the sharp edge of the world you both live in. your mind spins, torn between the life you've been forced into and the one you yearn for. sunghoon’s desperation, his jealousy, mirrors the conflict in your own heart. a part of you wishes you could forget the chains that bind you to the kingdom, to jaeyun, to duty. but reality is there.

you know the risks, the consequences that will follow if you give in to this, yet here you are, heart racing, palms sweaty, trembling under his touch. sunghoon’s love is overwhelming, but a part of you craves it. it’s been so long since you’ve felt that from anyone. he wants you fully, without restraint, and that truth fills your chest with warmth, even though it terrifies you.

but there’s guilt, too. jaeyun. the wedding. the vows you haven’t spoken yet but are bound by, nonetheless. you wonder if there’s a way out, if you could ever find peace in the chaos that surrounds you. you want to reach out, to close the gap that has been forced between you.

despite the anxiety swirling within you, sunghoon’s presence feels like a powerful anchor, grounding you in a way nothing else can. his closeness, his unwavering focus on you, drowns out the chaos and fear. his love feels like both a burden and a gift, but in this moment, you realize how deeply you want to bear it.

“i want to show you a place,” you say quietly, your voice steadying as you pull back just enough to meet his gaze.

his brow furrows slightly, curiosity flickering in his eyes.

you take his hand in yours, lacing your fingers together. “come with me.”

you lead sunghoon deeper into the forest, the trees growing denser with every step. branches twist together overhead, blocking out most of the light, casting the two of you in shadows. it’s a narrow, almost overgrown path—one that seems untouched, hidden from the world.

after several minutes of walking in silence, sunghoon speaks up "where are you taking me?"

you glance over your shoulder, offering a small smile. “i know a place. somewhere no one will find us. just us.”

he doesn’t press further, and you continue the trek, leading him through the maze of trees. the forest seems almost impenetrable, the thick canopy overhead making it feel as if the world outside doesn’t exist. it’s as though you’ve left everything behind- the kingdom, the responsibilities, jaeyun - all of it feels far away here.

finally, after what feels like a long walk, the trees begin to part, but not in any obvious way. the path narrows further, and you have to push aside a thick cluster of branches. beyond the trees, the hidden lake comes into view, shrouded by the dense foliage that surrounds it. its surface is perfectly still, barely catching any sunlight from the sky above. it’s a place that could easily go unnoticed, tucked away in this forgotten corner of the forest.

you step aside to let sunghoon take in the view, the two of you standing at the edge of the water. “this is it,” you say softly. “no one ever comes here. it’s just us.”

sunghoon’s grip on your hand loosening slightly as his eyes scan the serene scene before you both. the hidden lake is breathtaking, a secret world untouched by the palace’s watchful eyes. the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze and the gentle ripple of water are the only sounds breaking the silence between you.

after a moment, he speaks, his voice laced with curiosity. “how did you come to know of this place?” he glances at you, brow raised. “i’ve lived here my whole life, and yet i was unaware of its existence.”

you flash him a cocky smile, a teasing glint in your eyes. "the castle walls are thin," you say with a playful tone, leaning in slightly. "i overheard one of the servants talking about it."

sunghoon lets out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “so, the esteemed princess of the east takes it upon herself to eavesdrop on the musings of servants?”

you laugh, shrugging. "sometimes it pays off. i couldn’t resist coming to see if it was real. and now..."

your gaze grows more sultry, a hint of mischief dancing in your eyes. you step closer, fingers brushing lightly against his chest as you slowly unfasten the buttons of his blouse. the intimate gesture shifts the mood, and the air around you becomes charged with a new, heated energy.

“and now,” you say again softly, your voice a mere whisper against his ear, “i think it’s time we enjoy this secret together, don’t you?”

sunghoon’s breath catches, and eyes darken at your words, faces inches away from each other.

the blouse slips off his shoulders, exposing the smooth lines of his chest. his hand reaches for your wrist, guiding it to rest gently on his chest, where you can feel the rapid thrum of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. he holds your gaze, a silent question lingering in his eyes, waiting for you to respond to the unspoken invitation.

without warning, you grasp the back of his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pull him toward you with a forceful urgency. his eyes widen in surprise, but they quickly soften as your lips crash against his. the kiss is fierce, filled with the passion and frustration that have been building between you, a desperate need to close the distance that has always existed.

sunghoon’s breath catches in his throat as he responds, his hands moving to cradle your face, pulling you closer as if trying to fuse your very beings together.

he pulls away just enough to catch his breath. he speaks with a voice rough and filled with an almost primal need. “do you crave me too like i crave you, y/n?” then, he moves to your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he presses a series of burning kisses along your collarbone. "like i crave your body, every inch of you,” he murmurs between kisses, "the way you feel against me, the sound of your breath, the taste of your skin. please, i need all of you."

“then have me, my beloved. have me all to yourself.”

your breaths mingle, warm and ragged, as you stay close. sunghoon’s hands slide to the front of your kirtle, his fingers finding the strings that are secured at your chest and he works them loose.

as the kirtle loosens, it gradually falls away from your shoulders, exposing your bare body to his appreciative eyes. sunghoon’s gaze roams over you with unabashed hunger, his eyes lingering on the curve of your breasts, the softness of your skin. the sight of you, fully revealed, makes his breath quicken and his eyes darken with raw, intense desire. he takes in every detail with a mixture of awe and possessiveness, as if he’s discovering a hidden treasure that belongs only to him.

to him, you are nothing short of a blessing, a gift that he feels unworthy of receiving. his breath catches as he takes in every curve, every detail, his heart swelling with an overwhelming sense of adoration. he feels blessed just to be in your presence, to witness you like this.

"you’re more beautiful than i ever dreamed." he whispers, his voice reverent, filled with a deep, unshakable awe.

he slowly removes his breeches, freeing himself from its confines, his movements unhurried. as his garment falls away, your eyes linger on him for a moment, drawn to the sight of his exposed manhood. a rush of heat floods your cheeks. your gaze trails over his physique, the hard lines of muscle and the evidence of his arousal, standing proudly before you.

sunghoon smirks at the shy look in your eyes before he reaches for your hand with a gentle yet firm grip, guiding you toward the shimmering surface of the lake. his touch is both reassuring and electrifying as he leads you into the cool, inviting water, the gentle ripples caressing your skin as you step together into the embrace of the lake’s serene depths.

“now, aren’t you my swan?” he murmurs, his voice soft. with deliberate slowness, he reaches out, brushing aside the strands of hair that had been modestly shielding your breasts. “such beauty, such grace. oh my lord, is it all for me, my love?”

sunghoon pulls you closer, his chest pressing firmly against yours as his lips find yours once again, the kiss deeper and more fervent. the gentle waves lap at your skin, but the only thing you feel is him, his hands gripping your waist, his lips moving in sync with yours, the sheer desire in the way he touches you.

his hands roam over your back, the cool water contrasting with the fire that blazes between your bodies. you feel the way his fingers press into your skin, the possessive grip of someone who has craved you for too long, unable to hold back anymore. his breath is ragged against your lips, each kiss hotter and hungrier than the last.

"you're all mine, right?" he whispers between kisses, and you can only softly hum as an answer.

his lips move down the column of your neck, nipping and sucking gently at the sensitive skin, drawing soft moans from your lips. hands sliding down to your hips, pulling you flush against him, and you can feel the hardness of his cock pressing against your thigh beneath the water. a rush of heat surges through you, mixing with the cool sensation of the lake, and your hands instinctively grip his shoulders, steadying yourself as his kisses grow more fervent, more desperate.

sunghoon's lips trail lower, grazing over your collarbone and down toward your chest, his breath hot against your damp skin. every touch sends shivers through your body, your pulse quickening as his hands explore the curves of your waist, your hips, your ass. he tilts his head back up, head resting on the valley of your tits, eyes locked onto yours with a look of pure hunger.

the voice is low and hoarse as he breathes against your skin, “please tell me you’re mine, i need to hear it. i need to know you’re only mine. that no one else will ever have you like this.” his hands tighten slightly on your waist, his gaze burning into yours, desperate for your answer. "say it, please… that you’re mine, now and always." his breath shaky, waiting for you to respond, his need for reassurance almost as overwhelming as his desire for you.

you cradle his cheeks in your hands, your eyes softening. “in this moment, and every moment that follows, i am wholly yours. i promise you, my dearest, no one else will ever touch me, love me, or have me like you do. only you have this piece of me, forever.” you pull him for a kiss, pouring every ounce of your affection and reassurance into it. his grip on you tightens, and before you realize it, he has you pressed up against the edge of the lake, your back against the cool stone as he leans into you, while his lips continue to caress yours with a loving, unhurried rhythm.

his hands roam freely now, the water sloshing gently around you as his touch becomes bolder. the tension that’s been simmering between you for so long has reached its breaking point, and neither of you can resist it any longer. you can feel every inch of him against you, the heat, the longing, the urgency in the way he holds you.

“i want you to make love to me, sunghoon.”

sunghoon’s eyes darken with a fierce intensity as he hears your plea. he pulls back slightly, his breath mingling with yours. “i’ve waited my whole life for this, my love.”

as sunghoon captures your lips once more, the kiss quickly deepens. he bites down on your lower lip, causing you to whine into his mouth. seizing the opportunity, he slips his tongue into your moist heat, seeking yours with fevered urgency. his movements are messy, growing hungrier and sloppier with each passing second. the way his mouth devours yours, the slick heat of his tongue against yours, makes it feel as though you’re both desperately trying to claim every part of the other.

your breath falters when his hands move to your breasts, fingers curling around them with a firm, possessive grip. his palms brush over your sensitive nipples, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. it overwhelms you, and you break the kiss, your forehead resting against his as you pant softly. a thin string of saliva still connects your parted lips. unwavered, he begins to massage, kneading the soft flesh with a steady rhythm, your gazes locked. the pressure of his hands send waves of slick pooling in your cutn, each squeeze making your nipples tighten even more.

then he lowers himself to the same height as your nipples, taking one into his mouth and beginning to suck it like a parched man at an oasis. with a consuming rhythm, his tongue tracing circles around the sensitive peak. he lavishes the same attention on the other, his fingers deftly rolling and pinching the neglected nipple. the combined sensations of his warm, eager mouth and the stimulation from his fingers cause a moan to escape your lips before you can hold it back. you bite down on your lower lip in a futile attempt to stifle the sound, but your body betraying you as quiet gasps escape.

he pulls away from your nipple with a wet, audible pop and looks at you, his eyes dark with desire. “don’t try to hold back,” he commands, though his voice betrays a hint of need. “i want to hear every sound you make.”

he then attaches himself to your other nipple, wetting it with his saliva like the other one. your hands instinctively grip his hair as you arch your back. his mouth works eagerly, his tongue flicking and sucking with a relentless rhythm. his fingers dip into the water and finds your clit, teasing it with skilled strokes.

the pleasure builds swiftly as he lavishes your breasts with attention, his hot, insistent mouth working in tandem with the relentless stimulation below. the overwhelming sensations push you to the edge, gasps and moans escaping uncontrollably as your body trembles under his touch.

“sunghoon… it feels-” you say, tightening your grip on his hair as you battle to retain your control.

“good? this is nothing compared to what i am about to make you feel, my love.”

suddenly, a loud moan erupts from you as his finger breaches your entrance, sliding inside with a slow, deliberate motion. the new sensation leaves you breathless, your body instinctively pushing back against his hand, wanting more. the sight of him never taking his eyes from your face as he keeps busying his mouth, sucking and teasing your nipple, is an utterly lewd display, his gaze filled with raw desire.

he curls his finger within you, searching for that perfect spot to send you spiraling further into pleasure. every movement of his hand is synchronized with his mouth on your chest, his touch igniting a fire that spreads through your entire body. you feel yourself losing control, the overwhelming pleasure making it harder to hold back your cries.

he inserts another finger inside you, scissoring them to ease you open nicely. you feel a deep pressure building within, like a tightly wound knot yearning to be undone. with each stroke, the tension winds tighter, leaving you aching with a desperate need for release.

“i… ugh please, sunghoon, i wanna cum,” you plead, your voice barely above a whisper, trembling with the urgency of your desire. hearing the desperation in your voice, his fingers hasten, thrusting deeper with a renewed fervor. every stroke sends a jolt of pleasure through you, drawing you closer to the brink, your body instinctively arching towards him as the pressure inside you mounts, ready to burst.

the lake water churns around his rapidly moving wrist, splashing against parts of your body that have remained dry until now. the sudden coolness of the water only heightens your climax as you come undone on his fingers. your broken moans reverberate through the forest, and you can only cling to the hope that no one is nearby to hear you.

sunghoon helps you ride out your orgasm before withdrawing his fingers. gently, he brushes the damp strands of hair clinging to your face from sweat, then cups your face in his hands and captures your lips in a searing kiss. lips moving against each other in a harmonious rhythm, and his tongue dances with yours in a way that feels both urgent and consuming.

sunghoon's fingers trail down the sides of your thighs, gripping hard enough to leave marks, his eyes burning with desire as they wordlessly tell you to prepare yourself.

with a throaty sound, he pulls you up in one swift motion, your body rising from the water as his hands grip your thighs tightly. your legs instinctively wrap around him, pulling him against you as he steps forward, pinning you against the rugged stone, its cold surface digging into your skin.

you cling to his shoulders, nails biting into his skin as he keeps you suspended against the rough stone. his hands move higher up your thighs, fingers digging in as he adjusts his grip, making sure you're locked around him.

you feel the tip of his cock pressing against your folds, the thin layer of water between you doing nothing to cool the growing heat. you both whimper when his hips press forward, cock grinding against your folds in slow, teasing motions.

“sunghoon, don’t tease,” you moan as his cock’s tip presses inside you, then pulls out with a maddening slowness. the slick head brushes against your sensitive inner walls before withdrawing, making your body writhe in frustration. you shiver, your hole gaping as it aches for the fullness that was just barely given. “please, just fill me up. i need you inside me."

hearing your desperate plea, his hips snap forward with a brutal force, the head of his cock slamming deep inside you. a guttural groan rumbles from his throat as he fills you completely, stretching you with a pressure so intense it makes you shiver. you moan loudly, your walls clamping down around him, trying to accommodate his hard, throbbing length.

he wastes no time, thrusting into you with a relentless pace, each motion driving him deeper, his cock dragging along your inner walls with an intoxicating friction. the raw and rough feeling of him moving in and out makes your body quiver with intense pleasure.

he thrusts into you with such unrelenting force that each powerful stroke causes you to bounce up and down on his cock, making your tits jiggle with every thrust, moving rhythmically to match his powerful rhythm. his strong arms, wrapped securely around your thighs, keep you steady; without his firm hold, you would surely topple into the water.

while he continues to drive into you, he lowers his mouth to your collarbone and begins to kiss, bite and lick the sensitive skin there. his lips are hot and insistent, trailing a path of fiery pleasure along your neck and shoulders. your mouth falls open in a breathless gasp, the only sounds escaping you are guttural moans of ugh ugh ugh that reverberate in the air.

as the pressure inside you mounts, your fingers claw at his back, leaving angry red trails as you cling to him for support. each thrust he delivers feels impossibly deep, his cock stretching you to the brink with every powerful movement.

your climax builds rapidly, and you clench around him, muscles spasming around his cock with intense need. you can hardly keep your moans in check, the sound of your gasps mingling with the rhythmic slapping of flesh.

feeling the way your pussy tightens around him, he growls low and rough into your ear, his voice dripping with lust. “you’re so tight, my love, i can barely hold on. perfectly wrapped around my cock like you were made for me.” his filthy words drive you even closer to the edge. your head is thrown back, eyes shut tight, your body quaking uncontrollably as you come undone around his cock.

he continues to thrust into you with relentless intensity. your body, already sensitive and over-stimulated from your recent climax, quakes with every powerful motion. the sensation of his hard cock pounding inside you is nearly overwhelming, making it difficult to catch your breath as the relentless pleasure surges through you.

as he feels the pressure building within him, he pulls out abruptly, the sudden emptiness making you gasp and shiver. his grip on you tightens with one strong arm, keeping you pressed between the wall and his chest. with his other hand, he begins to pump his throbbing cock furiously, his movements desperate and urgent. each stroke is fast and rough, his hand sliding up and down his length with a frenzied rhythm as he chases his own climax.

his breath grows ragged and uneven, his groans becoming more guttural as he nears the edge. the water around begins to ripple with his frantic movements, the sound of his pleasure mingling with your own gasps. finally, with a low, throaty growl, he reaches his peak, his body convulsing as thick, hot streams of cum shoot from the tip of his cock. the warmth of his release spills into the water, mixing with the ripples created by your own tremors.

as he finishes, his hand slows, and he gasps for breath, still clutching you. the lake is tainted with his cum, turning the clear water cloudy with its creamy white streaks.

sunghoon carefully lets you down, his hands slowly loosening their grip on your thighs but keeping you close, never fully letting go. your bodies remain pressed together, slick with sweat and lake water, your skin sticking to his as your chests rise and fall in sync, catching your breath. his forehead rests against yours, the warmth of his skin comforting. between you, his cock, now soft but still thick, rests against your stomach, a reminder of how nice and hard he’d just fucked you.

his lips trail across your face, soft and unhurried, each kiss deliberate and warm. the gentle brush of his nose against your cheek sends a shiver through you as he moves down to your neck, his breath hot against your skin. "i love you," he whispers, the words barely audible but filled with a deep sincerity, his voice low and intimate.

his arms remain around you, holding you close as he pulls back just enough to look into your eyes. "you're mine," he murmurs, his tone firmer now, possessive but tender.

sunghoon gently guides you out of the lake, his grip both firm and tender, ensuring your safety on the uneven ground. as you step onto the soft grass, he supports you, his hands brushing away droplets of water from your skin.

he retrieves your kirtle from where it was set aside. as he holds it up, his fingers brush your skin, sending a shiver through you. he helps you into the kirtle, the material clinging slightly as it slips over your body. sunghoon fastens the straps with a practiced touch, his fingers lingering on the delicate fabric. each movement is meticulous, as if he’s trying to memorize every detail of this fleeting moment.

as sunghoon finishes fastening the last strap of your kirtle, his thoughts drift to the bittersweet reality of your situation. he feels incredibly fortunate to have shared such a deep connection with you, to have experienced your love and to hold you in his arms. the warmth of the moment, the way you look at him, and the way your body fits against his all fill him with a profound sense of luck.

yet, this profound sense of luck is tempered by a heavy dose of misfortune. the knowledge that you will soon leave his side to return to jaeyun and the duties that come with being by his side weighs heavily on him. the thought of you being with someone else, especially that someone being jaeyun, fills him with an ache he can’t easily shake.

sunghoon’s heart longs for more than just these moments. he wishes he could take you far away from the constraints of the kingdom, from jaeyun, and from the burdens of duty. he dreams of a place where the only thing that matters is the two of you, where worries and obligations don’t intrude on your happiness.

for now, though, all he can do is hold you close, cherish the time you have together, and hope that one day, he can make his dream of a life together away from everything else a reality.

“if only we could remain like this forever.” hee murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, holding you close one last time before you part again. as he drapes his blouse over your shoulders to shield you from the morning breeze, he presses a soft kiss to your neck, his touch lingering with a tender warmth.

being with sunghoon is not without its difficulties. each moment together demands a careful balance, where every look and touch is meticulously controlled to keep your affair with him under wraps.

over the years, you've both perfected this unspoken language. a fleeting glance, a slight tilt of the head, or a barely perceptible smile - all of these become powerful tools in your covert exchanges. it’s an intricate dance of subtlety and intuition, where a single look can convey a world of emotions and thoughts. you've learned to read each other's cues with astonishing accuracy, understanding what the other is saying without a single word being spoken.

sunghoon, for instance, has become adept at detecting the smallest signs of your distress. he can sense when you're upset by the way your gaze momentarily drifts or how your smile falters just a fraction too long. a subtle furrow of your brow or the way you avoid direct eye speaks volumes to him. he’s attuned to these subtle signals, knowing instantly when something is amiss.

just like always, he notices how your body language shifts subtly right now too - the way you absently fidget with your dress or how your gaze drifts towards the window, clearly searching for an escape from the stifling room. it’s evident to him that you're not enjoying the conversation between your older brother jongseong and jaeyun, as they drone on about politics and subjects that bore you to tears.

sunghoon’s eyes narrow slightly as he watches you, his concern masked by a composed expression. he can see the restlessness in your posture, the way you shift your weight from one foot to the other. every now and then, you glance at the door as if willing it to open and offer a reprieve.

oh, the ways he could make you feel good, unlike jaeyun who is making you listen political matters that you couldn’t care less.

he could slip his fingers inside you, feeling every tight, hot inch as he stroked and teased those sensitive spots, making you writhe with overwhelming pleasure. his mouth could bury itself between your legs, lapping up your sweet nectar and driving you wild with every skilled lick and insistent suck. and his cock, it could plunge deep inside you, filling you to the hilt and delivering a relentless, mind-shattering pleasure that no other man could ever hope to match.

he fantasizes about taking you in this very room, in front of jaeyun, to prove just how much you crave him and need him to make you forget everything else. sunghoon imagines your body responding to his touch, the sounds of your moans calling out his name, and how he could bring you to a peak of pleasure that leaves you utterly spent, all while jaeyun watches as soon-to-be-bride being ravished by him.

the vivid images make sunghoon’s pants tighten. he shifts slightly, trying to adjust his position discreetly, but the growing tension in his trousers becomes impossible to ignore. he knows he needs to act on his desire, and quickly. sunghoon subtly shifts his gaze towards you, his eyes locking with yours for a fleeting moment, filled with a smoldering intensity. then, with a casual but deliberate movement, he crosses his arms over his chest and leans slightly against the wall.

his stance is carefully crafted to appear nonchalant, but his posture is intentionally relaxed, his body angled in a way that draws your attention to the slight, purposeful pressure he applies against the wall with his hip. it’s a subtle but unmistakable signal, a quiet, urgent plea for you to follow him, to find a way to get closer, and to address the growing need he has ignited within him.

as you notice his silent message, you decide to make an excuse to leave the room. you mumble about needing to step outside for some fresh air, citing a vague headache that has suddenly come on. your voice is calm, but there's an edge of urgency as you quickly exit the room.

jaeyun’s gaze follows you as you leave, his eyes revealing a depth of unspoken emotions. though his expression is subdued, there’s a quiet longing in his stare. it’s more than just idle curiosity; his look reflects a mix of disappointment and a barely concealed yearning, as he silently observes your departure with a sense of unvoiced heartache.

sunghoon, noticing the subtle shift in jaeyun’s demeanor, lets a smirk creep onto his face. he meets jaeyun’s gaze with a knowing, almost triumphant expression before turning to follow you out of the room. the smirk lingers on his lips as he exits, leaving jaeyun behind, whose eyes remain fixed on the door, his expression a blend of wistful longing and resignation.

even as you're bouncing on his cock vigorously, sunghoon’s triumphant grin stays fixed, relishing the intense pleasure that the bastard never can have.

he lays on his back, eyes fixed on the way your breasts bounce with each thrust. gripping your hips tightly, he guides you to ride him harder and faster, ensuring to make sure you don’t miss a single stroke. with each movement, he takes satisfaction in the control he has over your body, his pleasure intensifying as he brings you closer to your peak.

as you cum, your body convulses with intense pleasure, and you collapse onto Sunghoon’s chest, trembling. he groans deeply, pulling out of you with a rough jerk. his thick, hot cum spills between your thighs, seeping down your skin. sunghoon, still catching his breath, carefully lays you onto your side, his eyes fixed on the mess he’s made.

with a satisfied smirk, he strokes your hair, his eyes fixed on the mess he’s made

, his cum glistening on your flushed skin. he watches intently as it trickles slowly down your inner thighs, savoring every drop. his hands, now resting possessively on your hips, hold you close, feeling the warmth of your spent body pressed against him. his breathing is ragged, each inhale a testament to the raw pleasure and control he’s reveling in. the scene of his dominance, with you at his mercy, drives him to the brink of satisfaction as he admires the evidence of his claim.

“you are breathtaking, my love.”

you smile faintly, your eyes barely open as you lay beside him, your body still trembling from the aftershocks of your climax. sunghoon’s gaze softens slightly, his smirk giving way to a genuine, if tired, smile. he runs his fingers gently over your skin, savoring the warmth and softness of you against him.

“i want us to leave all of this behind,” he says quietly, his voice a blend of resolve and affection. “this palace, the endless expectations, the life that’s been forced upon us—let’s abandon it all. i need you with me, y/n, far away from here, where we can build something real and ours. a place where no one knows our names, where we can escape from all the burdens and start anew.”

he gently squeezes your hand, his expression earnest and hopeful. “imagine a life where we’re not bound by duty or tradition, where we can simply be ourselves, where we don’t need to hide from everyone.”

as soon as you part your lips to say his name, “sunghoon…” his hand reaches up to gently cup your cheek, silencing you with a soft touch. his eyes are intense, filled with longing, but also with a flicker of hope as he continues.

“i know what you're going to say,” he murmurs, his voice unwavering. “but just hear me out.” he moves closer, his forehead almost resting against yours as his words spill out with quiet urgency. “we could go north, far beyond the mountains, to a place where no one knows us. i could build us a home, nothing grand, just something simple. you’ve always wanted a small house and a farm, haven’t you? somewhere quiet, peaceful, where we can live on our own terms.”

his thumb brushes over your lips, his tone growing more earnest. “i’ll work the land. i'll give you everything you need. no more castle walls, no more titles or duties. just us. we could wake up with the sun, plant gardens, raise animals, and fall asleep under the stars. you always say sheep are cute, i could get you a whole flock if you want.” you don’t miss the quivering in his voice as he rambles continuously, “imagine… you, tending to them every morning, their soft wool in your hands. maybe a little goat or two as well, something to make you smile every day. that’s all i want, y/n—a life with you, away from this place, away from everything that’s held us back.”

sunghoon’s eyes glisten slightly as he searches yours, his grip on your cheeks tightening ever so slightly. “we could have a life we’ve only dreamed of.”

your eyes glisten with unshed tears as you hold his gaze, a faint, broken smile tugging at your lips. “sunghoon,” you whisper, your voice wavering. “you don’t even believe those words.”

his face falters for a moment, the hope in his eyes dimming just slightly, but his grip on you remains firm. "i do," he insists, his voice low, almost pleading. “i believe it-”

"you want to believe it," you interrupt gently, your voice cracking. "and believe me, i want to too. i'd love to wake up next to you, tend to sheep, live that simple life… but we can’t, sunghoon." your eyes well with tears as you hold his gaze, the broken smile fading. "we can’t just leave it all behind. it’s not that simple as it sounds.”

“please don’t say no, y/n,” he says quietly, his voice cracking with the weight of his plea. he holds you close, his grip firm but gentle.

“i’m sorry, Sunghoon,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “i wish things were different. i wish we could escape and live that life together, but i just can’t.”

sunghoon's face crumples with the weight of your words. his shoulders slump as if the very air has been knocked from his lungs. the passionate fervor in his eyes dims, replaced by a deep, aching sadness. his grip on you tightens momentarily, as if trying to hold onto the fleeting hope you offered, but the strength quickly ebbs away.

the light that once danced in his eyes is now overshadowed by a shadow of despair. he swallows hard, his chest rising and falling unevenly as he struggles to contain the storm of emotions raging within him. his hands, which had been tenderly cupping your face, now fall limply to his sides.

it hits him hard. that you being with jaeyun and playing the role of his wife is like a knife in his heart. he has a tremendous feeling of hopelessness, knowing that he can no longer fight for the life he always dreamed.

the thought of never being able to claim you openly or stand by your side without hiding makes him feel confined and smothered. he future he wished for is now permanently out of reach.

he knows that, even if he were to try and find a semblance of normalcy, he will always be living in the shadow of jaeyun.

#enhypen smut #enha smut #sunghoon smut #park sunghoon smut

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ohdeerfully · 8 months

Note

hiii! this is my first request on tumblr but i jus love alastor sm and there is NOT enough fics for me out there. so im asking u❤️

what abt alastor being jealous of someone else in the hotel? for example: angel dust, he puts on music and you two are dancing with eachother happily not noticing the red eyed demon with a tight grin. 🥰

Hii! Honestly after writing this I realized I didn't follow the prompt exactly, less jealousy and more Alastor being overprotective. Oh well! Hope you like it anyway :D!

Be Back Soon (i)

alastor x reader (fluff? alastor is just overprotective) part i TW: Cursing/Angel existing if you want tagged in the next part, lmk! join my discord! ═══ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ═══

Your fingers dragged down the skin around your eyes as you let out a long sight, sitting at Husk’s bar with shoulders propped on the cold counter. What a day it had been, running around in the typical chaos of the hotel as Charlie tried to get some group bonding activities finished. It was getting late, and you just finally had a moment of peace.

“‘Ey, toots!” The chipper voice broke your peace and you couldn’t help it when another audible sigh escaped you. The culprit of the broken science paid no mind.

Turning your head, you narrowed your eyes and made eye contact with the lanky pink spider. You were a little salty at him in particular, being one of the main catalysts to the everyday insanity. He had an easy grin played upon his lips as he stared back down at you with his multicolored eyes, one pair of arms on his hips that jutted out a little too unnaturally in a mischievous pose. His golden tooth glinted under his light grin with a similar air of “hey I’m up to no good right now.”

“You look fuckin’ tired!” He barked a laugh, dramatically squeezing his eyes shut in a theatrical show of laughing in your face. It really wasn’t that funny, and you couldn’t stop the frown that touched your lips as you watched him. He took pride in being the way he was. Annoying.

“No thanks to you, Angel,” You clipped back. You turned your head to watch Husk, who was leaning against the wall with his eyes closed. He had become an expert in ignoring the spider demon’s presence, which was how he managed to stay sane with said demon’s constant flirting and sexual nature.

“Anyway,” He waves away your targeted words with a wave of his hands as his eyes roll up. “I was thinkin’ we get outta here for the night? Me and Cherri were gonna have a “girl’s night.”” You briefly thought about the humor in Angel admitting to being ‘one of the girls,’ but pushed the thought away to consider his invitation. “It wouldn’t hurt ta get some fresh air. This place is real stuffy sometimes, and a huge snooze fest,” he persuaded. He rested his face on one pair of hands, fingers laced under his chin, as he leaned against the bartop in anticipation for your answer.

You purse your lips in thought. It wouldn’t hurt, right? You didn’t go out clubbing a lot, and with Angel and Cherri with you surely nothing wrong would happen. They looked out for their friends, and you would (maybe regretfully) consider yourself Angel’s friend. You glanced at Husk for a moment, as if looking for advice, but his eyes remained close and his lips had an annoyed curl. Maybe you should get out of his hair.

“Okay, okay,” You grinned, a little sheepishly. While you couldn’t really consider ‘fresh air’ to be a feature of Hell, you agreed that you needed to just Get Out of this place. Running errands for Charlie got mundane, even with all the strange characters that cycled through the place. One tends to get used to the chaos.

Angel stretched his arms up in a cheer, which earned a one-eyed, aggravated look from Husk. He uttered something under his breath before grabbing a bottle and walking to the other corner.

“Alright, sweet lips,” Angel cooed at you. “Let's get you dressed! You got anything decent up in your closet?”

Your hand found its way to the back of your neck as you answered sheepishly, “Eh, not really… At least, not for a night out. I don’t really do much outside of the Hotel.” Angel frowned at the response, tapping his chin in thought.

“Lemme take a look,” With a swipe of his arm, your hand was suddenly being held as he dragged you up the steps toward the floor of your room.

Walking down at the same time, you briskly passed by Alastor, who had his eyes closed and a hum in his mouth. His blazing red eyes peered open as you and Angel rushed past him, a quizzical furrow in his brow seeing the connection between your hands. You shot him a shy grin and craned your head back to shout a quick ‘I’ll explain in a minute,’ before you disappeared around the bend of the stairs.

You didn’t miss the dark gleam in his eyes.

Angel, in an attempt to dramatically burst through your door, slammed full body into the entrance. “Ah- the hell?” He cried, roughly jiggling the handle.

“I keep it locked,” you snickered at him and the disheveled look in his usually preened hair. You saw him take his hands to brush it out as you fiddled with the lock, an annoyed mutter of words escaping his lips. The second the door clicked, Angel shoved past you and reattempted his dramatic burst through the entrance with a bit more luck this time around.

He went straight for your closer, rummaging through this and that. What a breach of privacy, this guy is, you thought with a strained smile as you stepped up next to him to try to guide him through your very Ordinary and Plain clothes.

You felt a prickling sensation on your skin, and you swear you heard a frequency of low static, but when you whipped your head around nothing stood there. Did that shadow just move?

Shaking your head, you looked at the piece Angel held proudly in his hands, one pair of arms gripping the top and the second pair pulling the bottom out to really get a full inspection.

It was incredibly simple, but still a bit more revealing than anything you were used to wearing. A deep red top, so cropped it may as well be a sporty bra, with a couple eye-catching accents of rhinestones. Connected with thin straps was a similarly tight pair of booty shorts. Your face flushed at the thought of wearing this. It was practically lingerie.

“Isn’t it a bit, uh, tacky?” You tried in an attempt to dissuade him from this getup. He acted offended, one hand going and pressing against his fluffed chest. You didn’t miss the way he took this as an opportunity and pressed up against himself to perk up his mass of chest fur.

“Babe, I wear shit like this all the time! You tellin’ me,” He started a rant, shaking the clothes in a fit of mock rage. “You tellin’ me I’m tacky? Hah! Me! Angel Dust!” He wiped away a fake tear in his laughter.

Your face flushed again looking at the getup. With a defeated mutter you swiped it from his hands and trekked painfully slowly to the restroom. You ignored Angel’s urgency for you to ‘hurry the hell up’ because it was almost time to get going.

You slowly stripped yourself of your day clothes, gingerly stepping through the tight shorts and tucking your arms through the straps of the top. You didn’t even remember buying this thing, it had been stuffed far in the back of your closet. You couldn’t help the feeling of dread thinking about the other embarrassing things Angel might have seen in there. Though, you doubt anything could phase that guy.

You had to admit, looking at your reflection, that it did accentuate your curves, even if you didn’t have much to begin with. The rhinestone accents glittered in the bathroom light, obviously designed in a way to bring attention to the chest. The straps that connect the two pieces fit snugly against your exposed torso. You were suddenly glad Hell never got that cold.

“Almost ready!” You snapped at Angel calling from the other side of the door. You quickly threw on some touches of makeup, trying your best to compliment the shades of your outfit and adding some glittery makeup around your eyes. You quickly dragged your fingers through your hair to style it comfortably.

You ripped open your door just as fists started banging on it. Angel stood there with two arms raised, stopped midair to keep himself from decking you in the head. You glared up at him, trying to maintain your earlier sourness to hide the fact that the outfit had grown on you.

“Hey, sexy lady!” Angel teasingly leaned himself against the doorframe with a smirk. “Let’s fuckin’ go! You took too damn long! Cherri hates waitin’.”

Grabbing your hand again, he ushered you out of the room. As you raced down the stairs, you tried to continuously preen your hair to keep it from flying out of shape as Angel practically drug you down each step.

He slowed at the bottom, releasing your hand, and stepping towards Husk’s bar to aggravate and flirt with the cat one last time before heading out. You tuned out his sexual innuendoes as you tried to glance over yourself one last time.

“My, what a dame you are!” Alastor’s recognizably radio-afflicted voice ripped your attention away from picking at a loose rhinestone. He stood over you, a slight bend in his waist and an unnatural crane in his neck. His smile was there, but tight and uneasily wide as he examined you through squinted eyes. He leaned his weight against his cane.

Swallowing your unease, you examined his expression. You knew Alastor didn’t care for such… promiscuous outfits. Especially on what he considered his. You knew his compliment was satirical, and you didn’t miss that glint of anger flash through his expression.

“Heyy, Al,” You drew out your words, unintentionally accentuating the awkward tone between the two of you. He paid no mind, keeping up that seemingly cheerful grin of his as he just… stared at you. His fingers tapped impatiently on the radio of his cane, each tap bringing a warp to the frequency that always surrounded him. “I’m going out with Angel tonight. Y’know… to get some air…”

“My dear,” His eyes closed in a laugh and he straightened himself out. “Why would you ever go out there for fresh air? Now, you know those demons would just eat you right up.” A dark sneer infected his smile, lips curling and exposing the line of his black gums.

“‘Ey c’mon, Smiles,” Angel stepped up next to you and lazily threw an arm over your shoulder. You saw that sneer only deepen as Alastor watched the spider get way too close to you. “Give ‘er a break! She’s always runnin’ around doin’ shit for this bum-ass hotel! It makes her… boring!”

You didn’t know whether or not to appreciate Angel both defending and insulting you. You decided to just ignore his comments as you watched Alastor’s expression get darker and more sinister. You felt a cold sweat prickle at your neck as that static-y frequency of his became more prominent and aggressive as his eyes swept over the two of you, lingering on your exposed abdomen with a frustrated twitch in his brow.

“Why, of course!” He suddenly cheered, brandishing his hands to his side in a slight bow. “But…” He stepped towards you, looming over you. You felt that nervous tickle again. His right hand raised and, with a quick motion, a fairly modest jacket materialized around your shoulders. “All better! Wouldn’t want greedy eyes seeing what’s mine!”

How bold, you thought. He was from the ‘30s, though, and very old fashioned. It made sense that immodest wear bothered him. Plus, you looked down at the jacket. It had a similar color scheme, and was light enough to not be too warm. At least it goes with my outfit. How sweet.

You felt a bit giddy at the permission Alastor had given you–not that you needed it. (You did). You’re a grown ass adult. (It doesn’t matter). You shot him a smile of thanks before dashing out the door, meeting Cherri who had been frequently laying on the car horn for you to Hurry the Fuck Up.

Before Angel Dust could follow, a tight grip on one of his wrists stopped him in his tracks. He hissed, yanking his arm but to no avail. Alastor’s grab was like iron, and his nails began to dig into Angel’s skin.

“Hey you fuck, let me go! I gotta get out there before Cherri starts blowin’ this shit up!”

Alastor pulled Angel in closer, a sneer-like grin crossing his expression. There was a maddening look in his glowing red eyes.

“If she comes home with even the smallest scrape,” He said in a low tone, the garble of his radio slightly distorting his voice. “I’m going to make you wish you never came to this Hazbin Hotel.”

Alastor’s grip didn’t yield as Angel tried again in a futile attempt to release himself. He had a nervous laugh in his voice as he tried to act unintimidated by the Radio Demon’s threat.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, you creepy red fuck,” He gruffed back, “Me an’ Cherri will stick right by her. You don’t gotta worry about nothin’.” Alastor’s expression shifted in an instant, his cheerful grin reappearing. He stood up straight and smiled down at Angel. “Good man! Now, don’t be too long,” He shooed Angel out of the lobby, who was more than glad to get the fuck out of there. He heard a faint ‘I’ll be watching’ from behind as he slammed the car door shut, muttering curses under his breath.

He knew Alastor would send that damn shadow of his to keep a close eye, so why the fuck did Angel have to babysit you in the first place? Plus, you weren’t some weak, naive fool. Whatever. He knew Alastor would take any excuse to cause some entertaining mayhem.

He sighed as he looked at you, who had a nervous but excited grin as Cherri rambled and cursed about something.

Maybe he shouldn’t have invited you out. He knew he was in for a long, stressful night. Good thing there would be a bar.

#alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #angel dust #ohdeerfully #cursing #fluff #alastor is overprotective #reader isnt weak tho #he just cares too much i think

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with-my-calamitous-love · 4 months

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I APOLOGIZE IF ITS A LITTLE TOO MUCH, JUST A LITTLE TOO SOON

kirishima x reader

thoughts on how kirishima acts in a relationship

inspired by so american

eijiro kirishima, who texts you goodmorning and goodnight religiously. you're the first person he wants to talk to in the morning and the last person he wants to hear from before he drifts off. his face turns almost as red as his hair and eyes whenever his phone lights up with a buzz, seeing that you've replied to him. he saves your contact with a <3 right next to your name. your photo is a picture he snapped of you wearing one of his tank tops, sitting loosely on you. normally his sculptured biceps fill out the fabric to the brim, but he prefers the way you wear it. he wants to stare at you every time he picks up the phone in the morning to text you.

eijiro kirishima, who lets you help him dye his hair after the third time you insist on it. he feels a slight hint of embarrassment, thinking its un-manly to need help with a simple task, but after the first couple of rounds he insists on you doing it. he loves the way your fingers weave delicately through his hair, touching up his roots and treating him like he’s a glass sculpture. and afterwards while he waits for it to set he’ll help you with menial tasks in return- like finishing your algebra (not that he’s any better, but he means well) or making you a quick dinner. he’s an expert when it comes to self-care, and knows that working out and eating well isn’t healthy if its not accompanied by nourishing your happiness. he knows what candy’s to bring to pick up for you while he’s purchasing his dye, what movies to play in the background while he’s letting his hair soak, and exactly how to hug you when it’s all done.

eijiro kirishima, who becomes a sucker for sappy love songs once you get him introduced to it. at first, he hums along to your playlist in the car. then he’s following the artists you like on instagram and keeping up with their recent music. then it’s actively going out of his way to listen to them because each line about love and longing is about you. he makes a playlist titled [y/n] <3 and its all the songs that have made you come up in his head. little do his gym friends know that he’s streaming the tortured poets department while he’s lifting weights DOWN BAD CRYING AT THE GYM ANYONE

eijiro kirishima, who absolutely loves anything you create. muffins, bread, brownies- you’ve suddenly tested his willpower when it comes to his rigid diet. but he can’t help himself- everything tastes better when he knows you’ve put the time and effort into it. with so many eyes watching the young hero, he often forgets to properly feed himself- which is when you come in, always reminding him to eat. when he’s not looking, you’ll slip an extra treat or two in his bag, and come home greeted with a hug and kiss of gratitude for keeping his tummy full.

eijiro kirishima, who comes to you seeking refuge from his insecurities. he has quirk envy badly, sometimes just staring at the heroes he sees around him and wonders how he could ever live up to them. he feels as though he pails in comparison, not knowing how to articulate his worries into words. sometimes he’ll simply hug you, resting his chiseled chin on your shoulder while a huff escapes his lips. he doesn’t need to say anything because you know him. you know how he gets in his head. so you kiss his temples and remind him that he is exactly how he should be. that he’s enough. enough to be strong. enough to be a great hero. enough to be the red riot you love so much. he’s enough for you. and thats what plants are smile on his face as he leans in to kiss you. it’s enough for him too.

eijiro kirishima, who loves showing you off at the gym. mostly to his friends, who comment on how he seemingly never shuts up about you- but a part of him finds pride in the jealous stares others give him. he almost wants to give them a look of ‘i know, right?’ while they admire your beauty, the way you look when sweat ripples down your skin and your cheeks are flushed pink. but he feels sorry for them. sorry that they can’t have you they he’s got you. his eyes sparkle when he sees you pushing yourself, feeling inspired that he now has someone to be so proud of. he’s always proud of you.

eijiro kirishima, who worries he’ll mess it up with you. that it’s all too good to be true- that theres no way he got so lucky so young. he worries you’ll grow bored, tired, or sick of him. he worries you aren’t as in love with him as he is with you. because eijiro kirishima is so, so in love with you. he knows this is love because he sees more than just a high-school fling, he sees the future. he sees someone he will always run to with open arms. and when you kiss him back, arms wrapped around him in a tender embrace, he gets the feeling that you’re so in love with him, too.

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lovecla · 17 days

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IF YOU LOVE ME, LET ME KNOW | jack hughes.

chapter seven:

➴ warnings: brief mention of smut

➴ word count: 2.4k

➴ author’s note: is the thing people say about rainstorms before rainbows true? i guess it’s time for soph and jack to find out. “happy” reading ♡

FALLING out of love was something you had yet to experience.

Of course, back then you thought you had fallen out of love with Harris, but soon you’d realize that you had never really loved him. It was some kind of strong admiration, a need to have someone to call yours, someone who you could write love songs for, someone who you could imagine yourself getting old with.

‘Course, none of those things happened with Harris, not even during your honeymoon phase. You were young when you started dating him, twenty-one and with no real idea of what love truly was.

So an older actor who thought you were cute?

It felt like you had hit the jackpot.

But now, as you try your hardest to forget what Jack meant— means— to you, you realize that it isn’t as easy as you initially thought it would be.

Jack is everywhere, occupying every corner of your mind. You remember how sweet he’d talk to you after sex, always treating you with kindness and making sure you were well taken care of. How he’d send you memes that were purely about Hockey even if you never understood what was so funny about them, how he’d get excited talking about his job and how he’d try to explain all the terms to you.

Despite what happened, Jack had made you so happy. It was sad to think that it was all probably a joke to him, but for you? No, it was real. So real. Every time you looked at his face, you reminded yourself that some things are not meant to last forever.

But God knew how much you wanted him to be your forever.

Keeping yourself busy was easy, and you were thankful for that. Your small concert, a week ago, filled you with so much joy and contentment— you were alive and not thinking about the middle child of the Hughes family for the first time in seven months.

Grace made sure that you took enough breaks but whenever you were alone with your thoughts for a long time, the first image your brain liked to share with you was Jack’s smile and Jack’s eyes and Jack’s nose and lips.

It was tiring.

You didn’t tell anyone, but you secretly watched his games when you were alone at night. You didn’t know much, but the experts keep saying that this is Hughes’ worst season and that he’s playing like shit, which, unfortunately, made you worry.

But you wouldn’t go back, you couldn’t go back.

Sometimes, at night, you’d remember how he looked at you when you told him you were in love with him. Or how he looked when you told him to leave, so desperate for you to hear him, at least for a few more minutes.

You’d replay that day inside of your head every night, like a nighttime routine, trying to find a different, better ending.

You’d always come up empty.

Sighing, you looked at your phone, reading Grace’s text with a smile.

Grace being Grace.

Even if she technically worked for you, you’ve barely seen Grace the past couple of days. You were both so busy it was almost impossible to keep up with each other’s schedule. But you did manage to free up some space so you could at least have lunch with her, and turns out she thought it’d be cool to include Nico too.

So, lunch at Nico’s house.

You said goodbye to the people who were working with you at the GQ photo shoot and drove to his house, blasting music through your speakers. No thoughts allowed!

You rang the doorbell, waiting until Grace herself opened the door, like she owned the house. You still weren’t sure if you wanted to know what was truly happening between the two of them, so you didn’t ask questions.

“Hi, my little popstar,” Grace shouted, hugging you tightly.

“Stop putting little before every noun when you’re referring to me.” You mumbled, face still shoved in the crook of her neck.

“Why would I do that? It’s fun and true. Come inside, Nico’s ordering pizza!”

You entered the house, feeling your cheeks getting warm when you remembered what happened the last time you were here.

“Shut the fuck up, Sophia,” during sex, he only used your name whenever he was really pissed, and apparently this was one of those times. “Don’t need anyone hearing how much of a whore you actually are.”

“Fuck, uh, come for me, baby, c’mon,” Jack whispered, hands still on you, dick fucking you hard and rough, leaving your insides raw and deliciously hurting. “Come on my cock like the good girl you are.”

Well. No more of that.

“No— Man, listen. I want a large pepperoni and a large margherita, please,” Nico smiled at you before putting his hand on his head, holding his phone with the other. “Why the hell would I put pineapple on a fucking pepperoni pizza? Let me speak to your manager, that’s— that’s a crime.”

“He’s just a Swiss Karen, really,” Grace sighed, sitting on the couch. You sat next to her, watching as Hischier tried to explain to the manager why pineapples shouldn’t even be included in pizzas in the first place. “I think he’s just nervous about the games.”

“Yeah,” you wanted to tell her that you’ve been watching the games and that it didn’t look really good for them but it would just give your I’m-already-over-Jack facade away. “Must be hard.”

“Tell me about it, I barely see him. It’s like hockey players only exist during the summer or whatever.” She sighed again, fixing her braids. You looked at her, full of compassion.

If you and Jack dated, would you feel like her?

No.

You wouldn’t know the answer to that question because that won’t happen.

“Hi, Soph,” you heard the Devils’ captain say, greeting you.

“Hey there, thirteen. How are you?”

He yawned, stretching his arms. “Tired, stressed, hungry, tired.” He stopped for a second before continuing. “Have I mentioned tired?”

“Sucks to be you, to be honest,” you giggled, looking at him funny.

The pizza would take a while to get delivered— especially since Nico argued with the manager and now they were probably taking their time spitting on the dough— so you used the time to catch up on their lives.

Grace talked about how her marketing degree never prepared her for how much work she’d actually have to get done, and how much she missed her mom and dad, and how Jessica, your vocal coach, was starting to piss her off with her I-am-better-than-everyone attitude.

Nico talked about the games, and how he basically was never at home, and how he’d spend half of his time on planes and the other half on practice and yet he still felt like they weren’t going to make it.

That made you wonder how Jack was doing with all of this. If he had come back to Newark after their week away, to spend thanksgiving with his family.

Not that you cared, you just wondered.

Noticing how both Grace and Nico stayed quiet, you realized that they’re probably waiting for you to update them on your life. You smiled awkwardly.

“I have been working a lot,” you shrugged. “I love what I do so it isn’t exactly working for me. Besides that, I sleep, eat and drink water.”

They both looked at you with pity, which made your stomach ache. You didn’t want anyone pitying you, in fact, you didn’t need it. You weren’t a damsel in distress, you didn’t need to be saved— you just chose to spend your free time alone. Ain’t nothing wrong with that.

“I’m gonna go grab some wine from the cellar, be right back,” Nico announced, out of nowhere, getting up and heading downstairs. Grace looked at him with puppy eyes and you laughed.

“People in love are disgusting,” you joked, and Grace rolled her eyes at you.

“Shut it, Twilight,” she laughed, not denying it. “I’m gonna go grab the glasses.”

The doorbell rang and you got up. “It looks like I’m gonna go grab the pizza.”

“Make sure they didn’t put poison in it!” Grace shouted, making her way to the kitchen, while you walked until you were in front of the door, smiling still.

“Sophia?”

Hi, Universe. It’s your girl, Sophia. So, what is this about? What are you trying to do here? Let me tell you now, it won’t work.

“Hum, hi?” It sounded more like a question than a greeting, but out of all things you would have imagined that could happen to you that day, opening the door and finding Jack on the other side of it wasn’t on your list.

“What are you,” he stuttered, clutching hard the bag he was holding in his hands. “I didn’t know you’d be here. I’m sorry.”

You leaned against the door, confusion taking over your face. Jack wasn’t the type of man to apologize so easily.

“It’s fine.”

You both went quiet, staring at each other. It was weird to be around Jack without touching him, your heart still hurting because you love him deeply.

It was the type of love you’d want to tell your children, if you decided to have them one day. The type of love where you’d come home after a long day, just to find your forever sitting on the couch, yapping about his day. The type of love you read in books and watch movies about, the type of love you want to write songs about. The type of love where his hugs feel like a cold, gentle breeze during a sunny day, and his kisses felt like the fireworks on the Fourth of July.

You loved Jack Hughes deeply and he wanted him to be your forever more than anything.

But it wouldn’t happen. And it’s fine. It’d be fine.

“Do you want me to call Nico?” You whispered, averting his gaze.

“You don’t need to, I just stopped by to give him this,” he raised the bag in his hands, shrugging.

“Okay…” You nodded, not sure of what to say. “Then, I guess I’m… gonna go. Nice seeing you.” You lied, because you’d much rather keep watching him on TV, with a safe distance between you two, than to face him in real life.

“No, Soph, wait—” he called you, putting his feet between the door gap. “Can we, like, talk?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Jack.” You retorted, biting your bottom lip.

“Soph, did they spit on our pizza?” Grace’s voice sounded cheerful behind you, and you cringed, knowing exactly how she’s going to react once she sees Jack here. “I hope they only spitted on Nico’s pizza, to be honest. What are you doing there— Oh.”

You turned around and looked at her, smiling awkwardly. No one moved a muscle for at least ten seconds and you gave in, knowing that discussing things with her would be harder than hearing Jack out.

“I’ll just… I’ll be right back, okay?” You announced, pointing to Jack behind you. “It’s fine.”

“But—”

“It’s fine, Grace. Go find Nico, please.” You pleaded, not wanting to feel any shittier. Grace only stared at Jack for what seemed to be a whole minute before nodding once and making her way to Nico.

“I guess she still hates me.” Jack pointed out, chuckling humorlessly.

You turned around, raising your eyebrows at him. “Can you blame her?”

“No, not really,” he shrugged, putting the bag on the floor and putting his hands inside of his jeans’ pockets. “I get that you’re still mad at me.”

“I told you, I’m not mad at you. Hurt? Maybe. But I knew what I was getting myself into, so I guess I can’t really blame you.” You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying really hard to be the bigger person when all you wanted to do was smash his face into a wall and kiss him right after that.

“I want you to know that I am sorry about what happened,” he stepped closer, making you smell his cologne, sandalwood and something else that smelled a lot like money. Weird combination but it worked for him. “Truly. I didn’t fuck Ava or any other woman while we were together. I— I just wanted to be with you, Soph, I need you to know that.”

You stared at his face, trying so hard to find the same expression you found on your ex’s face whenever he lied and manipulated you. But you couldn’t— Jack was still the same as he was seven months ago, when he hit on you at that dinner party.

He still looked like the guy who held you close after sex, the guy who order take out for you just because he knew you’d get too tired to cook for yourself, the guy who had a playlist just for his favorite songs by you, the guy who never understood your chronically online memes but laughed nonetheless because he said the way you laugh is funnier than the joke itself.

Jack still looked like he could be your forever.

So close yet so fucking distant.

You could feel yourself slipping into him again and you knew you couldn’t do this with yourself. You had to choose yourself before choosing anyone else.

“You don’t need to say sorry,” you whispered, smiling softly. “It’s fine. As you said, we weren’t even dating. I bet you wouldn’t have reacted the way I did if it’d been the other way around.”

He looked at you like you had grown a second head. “I would’ve gone crazy if it was the other way around. Sophia, I know it’s hard to believe but—”

“It’s fine, Jack, it really is,” you stated, shaking your head. “I accept your apologies but I think—” you broke eye contact, stepping back. “I think it’s just best if we stay out of each other’s way.”

You couldn’t tell which one of you cracked first. Jack, who looked at you like he’d seen a ghost, let his shoulders fall, looking as dejected as ever. You could feel the tears starting to form in your eyes but you held on tight. You had already cried in front of him once, and you weren’t going to do that again.

“Soph,” you heard his voice, so soft and so unlike him. “Soph, you don’t… you don’t mean that, baby.”

“I do,” you looked up, squeezing your eyes shut. “I do, Jack. And it will be fine. Let’s just move on.”

“Soph…”

“Please,” you whispered, already stepping back into the house, hands on the handle. “Jack. Please.”

You finally looked at him, noticing how his eyes looked so blue and sad. He stared at you before shaking his head, once and then twice, stepping back.

“I’m so sorry, Soph.” He said softly, before leaving Nico’s porch and making his way to his car.

“I know you are, baby,” you whispered, letting the tears finally fall. “I am, too.”

“Hum… pizza for Nico Hischier?”

Great.

#jack hughes #jack hughes x you #jack hughes x oc #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes fic #jack hughes smut #jack hughes x singer!fmc #jack hughes x singer!reader #IYLMLMK

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scoops-aboy86 · 3 months

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Crushing (Secret Admirer pt 6)

Steddie Week 2024, July 6: Dizzy / drunken confessions / Crush on You by Bruce Springsteen

Fun fact: there are “sorry”s to correspond with a nat 20. It’s a luck thing, though more reflexive than actually hopeful.

If you turn 6 upside down it's a 9 and today's the 9th, so I would argue that I am still right on time. 🙃 Anyway, I didn't get to the drunken confession part but it was getting too long, so that can be in the last chapter. Enjoy!

wc: 3034 / rated: T / set during season 3 / also on ao3

Sweet Steve, perfect Steve, golden Steve,

Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry SORRY

I cannot adequately express how much I regret hanging up on you. It happened a few minutes ago and I’m already writing this because I can’t call back now, not after that. I can’t believe I even did that, I’m so stupid. I’m so stupid because you were saying all these perfect things? Literally everything I never thought I’d get to hear from anyone ever and then I ruined it.

(The scribbles in the margins are representative of all the times I stop writing just to explosively cuss myself out for being so chickenshit. It looks messy but I am a mess and it’s all my own doing, made my bed and lying in it etc. etc., if I could mount my own head on a pike right now I would Jesus H. CHRIDJDBBWLSNEVEOALAVSVALAMDBDBXJXLFKENSVAVWUELMFBDUSKANS <— an example and demonstration)

I’m sorry I’m a coward. I’m sorry I started this and can’t seem to follow through, I’m sorry I keep yanking you around when it’s not what you deserve sweetheart, it isn’t at all. You were perfect, do you hear me? I had a whole list of songs planned, but picked that one spontaneously because you weren’t digging WASP and I was thinking about the way you’re so hard on yourself sometimes about the guy you were in high school, even though all high schoolers are idiots. (With how many times I’ve had to repeat, I am an expert on this, obviously largely from personal study and reflection.) You didn’t peak in high school, Steve, because you are a wonderful person right now and that’s what matters. You call yourself a romantic sap but I love that about you, please never lose that.

With every letter you’ve poured out a little of your soul; it only seems right that I try to do the same to make up for my… everything.

I’m a guy. I’m gay. I’ve never written that down before so explicitly but it’s true. You were so thoughtful about the whole music thing and trying to show we can have common interests but, to be blunt, unless dick is one of those I don’t think this is going to work out.

No hard feelings obviously. It’s on me for letting this go on so long without being more honest. This is absolutely no reflection on you and does not make you queer by association. I won’t tell anyone—though if I did I’m not considered credible or trustworthy in this town, believe me.

If you’ve read this far… I mean, I won’t know unless you tell me, obviously. But it doesn’t have to mean anything other than that you’re a good dude. The only person in my life who knows about me and knows my name is the man who’s more like a father to me than my “real” dad; it’s nothing personal, I’ve just had some bad experiences. Remember that concussion I mentioned? … Yeah, that was courtesy of the ol’ sperm donor. Thought I was over freezing up about it after more than half a decade, but no such luck!

On that note, I need to go… not be a person for a while. Take care. I remain, as always—

Your Secret Admirer

P. S. The song you said you liked was Rainbow In The Dark by Dio, off his Holy Diver album. It’s a good album, even if I’ve blown it with you I still hope you check it out sometime.

Eddie drops the pen over the side of his bed, practically throwing it. He drops the notebook he’d scribbled the letter in to the floor; he’ll tear it out and mail it later.

Probably.

Maybe.

He’ll think about it, once he’s done not wanting to think anything at all.

Dear Secret Admirer,

Are you okay? I can’t call you back, so the best I can do right now is write. I shouldn’t have pushed you again, I keep doing that, like an idiot.

I was having a nice time

Call back whenever, if I’m there I’ll pick up. Call back tonight even, except I can’t get this in the mail until tomorrow so never mind, but I won’t be mad, I promise. Or you can write to me. Please. At least to be friends, if you’re tired of how I always come on too strong (which is literally what Robin keeps telling me with that damn whiteboard all the time, go figure). And maybe you can tell me more about your music, like that one with the rainbows? I think that maybe you’ve been writing to me so much because maybe you’re lonely too, and I know how much that sucks.

So, I’ll be here. Whoever you are, wherever, I hope you’re okay. Stay safe.

— Steve

All Steve can think about is how stupid he was, pushing Secret Admirer like that. He hasn’t gotten a letter yet, and genuinely doesn’t know if he ever will again.

Robin doesn’t ask why he’s quieter than usual during work for the next few days. Dustin returns from Camp Know Where and Steve tells him he doesn’t want ice cream because he has to stay in shape for the ladies, but it leaves the bad taste of a mostly-lie in his mouth.

Because, oh yeah, breaking news: he thinks Secret Admirer is probably a guy.

That would explain the adamant secrecy, the way the letters are careful not to suggest one or the other. No matter how embarrassing Steve is, a girl would have less to lose compared to a gay dude being outed in Hawkins. And he knows for a fact there were rumors circulating after Jonathan Byers gave him his first and mildest concussion in ‘83. Rumors about what he’d said, what he’d spat at the guy, all no doubt spread by Tommy and Carol. All his past actions coming together to prove that he can’t be trusted, can’t be confided in, even after everything.

It’s almost secondary that it doesn’t seem to make a difference to his feelings. He may have fallen for someone who happens to be a guy—so what? It’s better than crushing loneliness. Better than no one caring. Better than being forgotten aside from his douchebag legacy at school and all his parents’ dashed aspirations for his future.

Then Steve finds himself trapped in a Russian elevator with Robin, Dustin, and Lucas’s little sister (who should absolutely not be here, what the fuck were they thinking) and he just.

He just regrets never getting to say goodbye.

Eddie gets Steve’s letter the day he manages to crawl out of his room long enough to mail his own, checking his PO Box like a nervous tic. He’s absolutely floored by what he reads and screams into his pillow some more because it doesn’t change anything, because Steve wrote it while still not in possession of all the facts.

After a drive out to Reefer Rick’s to replenish his stash, Eddie does the bare minimum of his regularly scheduled drop-offs. No rest for the wicked, because even the wicked need gas money and shit, but it’s all just halfhearted busy work.

Then he goes home. Against all common sense and knowing that for the sake of his own heart he probably shouldn’t, he spends the rest of the day trying to call. Every time he punches in the numbers with his heart in his throat, but no one ever picks up.

“Ask me anything,” Robin prods blearily from her stall. “Interrogate me.”

Steve tries to think through the swimming in his head. “Okay, uh… When was the last time you peed your pants?”

“Today!”

He almost laughs. “No way. What?”

“When the Russian doctor brought his bone saw out. It was just a little bit though!”

He can picture her holding one hand up, fingers pinched together to indicate a tiny amount. And, okay, fair. “Yeah it’s definitely in her system,” he mumbles to no one.

“My turn,” she declares. “Have you… ever been in love?”

Steve does laugh this time, not because it’s funny but because the question hits him right between the eyes. “Shit, yeah, a couple times. Uh, first was Nancy Wheeler, junior year.”

“Ooooh… She’s such a priss, though.”

“Yeah, turns out, not so much.” He shrugs, even though she can’t see, hands dangling from where his arms are draped over his bare, scraped knees. There isn’t a part of him that doesn’t ache—including his stomach and throat now, fucking Russian drugs.

“Huh.” Robin pauses. “So… who was second?”

Sighing, Steve drops his head back against the metal divider at his back. “That blind phone date I told you about.”

It’s a toss-up as to whether he’s admitting this because of the aforementioned drugs or because he’s just too tired to give a shit anymore. What does it really matter, at this point?

“Really? Wow. Okay, I didn’t realize that got so serious.”

Steve lets his eyes fall closed, despite what is likely his third concussion in almost as many years. “It kind of didn’t, I just got… over-invested, I guess. I don’t know if he’s going to write again anyway.”

“H… he?”

“I think so. It was a secret admirer kind of deal, so I never actually knew, but… every time I brought up meeting in person, things went wrong. And like an idiot I kept doing that, so. I don’t know for sure, but I think it might be over.”

Robin’s hand smacks on the tile floor—gross. “How do you not even know for sure after a phone date? Gay guys still sound like guys, Steve.”

“I know that,” he says, a little stung by her reproachful tone. “I talked and he didn’t, he just played some of his favorite songs for me to see if I liked them. Which I did, some of it. It was like, really hard rock or something, not what I usually listen to—”

“I’ll say, Mr. ‘No, Not My Wham! Cassette!’”

“—but it was okay. There were some really cool guitar parts.”

“And it… doesn’t bother you? That a guy was, uh, hitting on you?”

Again, Steve shrugs. “More writing love letters than just hitting on me, but… yeah. I was in pretty deep by the time I figured it out, but I guess not. Is it my turn to ask another question?”

“Um… Sure?”

He’s not sure why she sounds so nervous, figures it should be obvious what he’s going to ask next. It’s kind of a staple of their friendship at this point. “Who sent me that ice cream cone? The strawberry with rainbow sprinkles?”

Dead silence.

“Robin?” he asks with a flicker of nerves, because, well. It’s been a long day. (Or two days? He’s lost track of how much time they’d spent underground.) “You OD over there?”

“No… I am alive,” she replies, but in such a quiet voice that it doesn’t really reassure him all that much.

He shifts, scooting on his ass to get under the divider between them and pop back up on her side. It gives him a wedgie, but that’s the least of his problems.

Robin wrinkles her nose at him. “Steve, these floors are disgusting.”

“Yeah, well, I’m already covered in blood and probably some puke, so.” He tests his tongue on his bottom lip, trying to decide if the split is still bleeding or if it just stings for the hell of it. “Who was it?”

She bites her own lip, then whispers, “Is it your secret admirer?”

“I’m ninety-nine percent sure,” he tells her.

“Okay.” But she’s still hesitating. “Before I tell you… About what I said down there, about Click’s class. I wasn’t staring at you because of you, it… it was because she wouldn’t stop staring at you.”

Steve blinks, confused by the sudden change of topic. “Who? Mrs. Click?”

Robin shakes her head faintly without breaking eye contact, literally without blinking as she whispers, “Tammy Thompson.”

“But she’s a… Oh. Oooh.” He remembers Tammy. She’d always fawned over him in that class, back when he’d been so busy mourning the way things had gone with Nancy that he hadn’t given her the time of day. “Yeah, I guess I see the appeal. Pretty, perky, blonde… She’s a total dud though.”

Robin gapes at him. “What?”

He waves a hand. “I’d just broken up with Nancy, and she was all over me all the time, dropping these hints about wanting to go out. It’s like she wanted to be a rebound relationship.”

“So? She’s goal oriented!”

“She wouldn’t leave me alone! Also, she wants to be a country singer but she couldn’t hold a tune if someone put it in a bucket for her.”

Sputtering, Robin smacks at his shin, one of the few places he isn’t bloody or bruised. “I will not take this superiority from the guy who’s surprise-crushing on Eddie Munson!”

Shock zings through Steve like he’s just had his fingers jammed into an electrical socket. “On—really?”

He remembers Munson too. Who wouldn’t? Loud and weird, and the guy had always seemed perpetually on, always bristled like a porcupine. Stalking around campus in a black leather jacket regardless of weather and ripped black jeans. (Dark colors.) That denim vest with all the weird band patches on it. (Music that Steve didn’t know anything about.) Big flashy rings on his fingers, and Steve knows he’s in some sort of band, probably has guitar calluses. (Hands that would give him away at a glance.) Up on cafeteria tables with his Hellfire Club shirt and long hair, taunting the jocks who gave his friends shit. (Nerd, check. Not into sports, triple check. He’s pretty sure the dude had failed gym at least once for refusing to wear gym shorts.)

Literally the last person in Hawkins who should’ve had eyes for King Steve.

“Munson likes me?” Steve can’t feel his face too well, what with the beating he’d taken earlier during interrogation, so he’s not sure if he’s blushing. His voice definitely does something funny on the last word, though.

“He said not to tell you who it was from because he thought you might toss it if you knew it was from him,” Robin admits. “Which seemed like a reasonable concern at the time, but that’s because I didn’t know—”

But then Dustin bursts in on them. The kid looks frazzled, and from there on out it’s all running and more blood and a monster made out of people and fireworks and death, their bathroom conversation forgotten.

Eddie had given up on calling around the time the fireworks show started over the mayor’s kiss-ass 4th of July fair. Downed a couple beers while trying not to wonder if Steve found a date to take. Is still awake when Wayne comes in from his shift, and wanders out of his room because anything’s got to be better than staring at the ceiling.

“Starcourt burned down,” his uncle tells him while Eddie moves zombie-like through the motions of making them each a cup of coffee. “Radio said the police ain’t ruling out arson. Drove past it on the way, there’s search and rescue folks crawling all over the rubble lookin’ for survivors.”

After Wayne goes to bed, Eddie tries dialing Steve’s number one more time.

No one answers.

After much pleading from Robin, and since Steve’s car keys are still god knows where and his parents are out of town, the Buckleys graciously agree to let him stay in their guest room. It’s just as well, Robin insists; with the concussion, someone should be around to check on him every few hours.

“That’s only for the first twenty-four,” he points out the next day. He knows the drill.

“I don’t care,” Robin insists. “You took a beating to protect the rest of us. You could have been killed, Steve! I am checking on you every few hours for the rest of my life from now on, just see if I don’t.”

“Please don’t,” Steve groans, but he’s grinning. Despite the way his ribs and head throb, and the dark circle under the eye that isn’t literally still swollen shut, it’s nice to have someone to be normal with—not ignoring what had happened, he’d learned his lesson about that with Nancy, but taking it into account and then going ‘yes and.’ “Or at least make sure to always knock first.”

“Why w—Ew! Never mind, if you’re feeling good enough to make jokes then you’re probably fine, offer rescinded.”

“You’re still gonna,” Steve points out, then knocks back the painkillers she’s brought him. Mr. Buckley’s shoulder surgery prescription, meet two broken ribs, black eye, and recently re-set nose.

She sits on the edge of the bed, next to the duffel bag of clothes from his house that her mom had driven her to pick up for him. “Yeah yeah, shut up.”

Silence settles over them for a moment while Steve tries to get comfortable. And fails. His ribs really aren’t doing him any favors today. The discomfort is why he’s still in unflatteringly baggy shorts borrowed from Mr. Buckley and a t-shirt Robin had thrown at his head as a joke (and then helped him out on, since he can’t lift his arms that high without wanting to scream) that declares him a fan of Siouxsie and the Banshees.

He has no idea how to pronounce Siouxsie and is kind of afraid to ask.

“Sooo,” Robin starts. “Eddie Munson, huh?”

“Uh.” Steve can’t run a hand through his hair with his stupid ribs, not when he’s not running entirely on adrenaline or before the painkillers kick in, so he settles for twiddling his thumbs. “Yeah? I guess so. His letters are… They’re really good, Rob. I kinda don’t know why he keeps writing when my replies are so crappy. Like… I can’t even do them justice trying to explain.”

“Huh.” She waits a beat. “Well, I checked your mailbox, just in case, and there was a hand-addressed envelope that I brought back for you—”

Ribs be damned, Steve lunges for that duffel.

Tag list (and if you missed the earlier chapters check the "#secret admirer steddie" tag on my blog): @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @tangerinesteve @steviewashere

@cryingglightningg @theresebelivett @sleepy-steve @rozzieroos @lunaraindrop

@just-my-latest-hyperfixation @wheneverfeasible @swimmingbirdrunningrock @yesdangerpls @matchingbatbites

@ihavekidneys @p0lybl4nkk @grtwdsmwhr @cheesedoctor @whalesharksart

@thetinymm @envyadams-vs-me @practicallybegging @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @dauntlessdiva

@nerdyglassescheeseychick @fuzzyduxk @chaosgremlinmunson @greatwerewolfbeliever @goosesister

@dolphincliffs @friendlyneighborhoodgaycousin @beckkthewreck @pitrsattabhaadmeinjao

#steddieweek2024 #scoops words #secret admirer steddie #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #robin buckley #platonic stobin

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genericpuff · 4 months

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The Derivative Fashion Sense of Lore Olympus

So I'm usually out here going Gordon Ramsay on Rachel's ass about her writing and art, but for this unsolicited essay I will be wearing a different hat.

Yep, we're going Miranda Priestly today. Specifically the Miranda Priestly who talks fashion, not the Miranda Priestly who abuses employees lmao (though rest assured, I'm gonna have a lot of curt words throughout this).

Disclaimer: I am not at all an expert on fashion, these are just my thoughts and observations from studying fashion styles as part of my own artistic journey, so as always, take what I have to say with loads of salt. I also realize the irony that I am addressing the derivative nature of Lore Olympus when I, myself, am creating a derivative retelling of Lore Olympus.

Alright, enough small talk.

There's this general misconception in runway fashion that all those "impractical outfits" are meant to be worn by the average person, people such as myself who see these outfits and go "what the fuck do you mean Lady Gaga wore a dress made out of meat?!" When we see these crazy fits, our first impression is often "Why would anyone wear that?"

Well, because they aren't outfits. They're art pieces.

And not only are the outfits themselves art pieces, but the people wearing them are the canvases. These outfits aren't designed for just anyone to wear, especially not your average Joe, they're designed both with the artist's vision as well as the model in mind. A lot of thought, expression, cultural influences, and personal messaging is sewn into these designs.

Think about it this way, you couldn't take that aforementioned Gaga meat dress and put it on Taylor Swift. Not only would it not be physically tailored to her, but it wouldn't align with Swift's brand of music. Gaga, at the time of wearing that dress, was making a statement that came about from a collaborative effort between herself, the canvas, and her fashion designer, the artist. The meaning would be lost if you put Swift, Katy Perry, or any other musician into it, because the fact that Gaga is the one wearing it is part of that meaning.

What would happen if you did take the meat dress and put it on someone else? Well, that's how you get the controversial 2022 Met Gala when Kim Kardashian wore the sequin dress that Marilyn Monroe wore for JFK back in 1962.

Not a replica. Not a re-interpretation. The actual literal dress that Monroe once wore. This was a very bold - and in my opinion, reckless - move on Kim's part, because not only was she forcing herself into a dress not tailored to her (and yes, there has been deliberation on what damage was caused to the dress on account of this) but rather than working with a fashion designer to come up with a fresh new interpretation of the same concept, she just went "yeah I'm gonna wear the exact dress", in what many interpreted as a disrespectful power move to artificially put herself on the same level of prestige as Monroe. But she still isn't on that level of prestige and it speaks volumes that she thought carving out her own legacy would be as simple as just taking someone else's. The wolf wore the sheep's clothing with the intent to fool the sheep, but it was still a wolf.

But okay okay, WHAT does this have to do with Lore Olympus?

Well, Rachel released a new interview clip.

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A post shared by Rachel Smythe (@usedbandaid)

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I will say, these seem to have all been recorded at once probably when she was back at NYCC and they're probably going to be released daily leading up to the free release of the finale. Why they're hyping up the free version rather than hyping up the FastPass version that actually generates income, I have no clue, but I digress.

As always, the transcript is as follows:

"I really like looking at like, uh, vintage clothing and silhouettes that are... y'know, timeless. I mean, obviously it's really hard to future-proof work that's set in the modern setting because of course the times are gonna change, like, rapidly and there's not a lot you can do about it, but in terms of, like, fashion, there are just some silhouettes that are always going to look very classy, so... I try to put things that will not age. Like, I think there was a chapter recently where she [Persephone?] had like a very vintage Dior look which I really liked, um... and I feel like that will always look nice, like in 10 years time I'll be like, 'She looked good'. But there are some outfits which are more modern where I'm like, 'That probably won't look good in 10 years time'. But, y'know, we still got the inspired vintage Dior outfit so that's good, that's safe."

There isn't much to say about the actual transcribed text itself, but I do think it's very telling that Rachel tries to upsell her sense of fashion sense in LO when... much of it is just flat out derivative. At best she's often referencing real life people (mostly Hollywood celebrities) and at worst she's usually just grabbing stuff off Pinterest inspo boards without any consideration towards the influences or who she's putting into them.

That said, I do think she told on herself quite a bit in that final line of the interview clip - "that's good, that's safe."

I can understand wanting to play it safe in terms of knowing your limitations and not wanting to create something that would be dated in a few years.

But fashion... isn't about playing it safe. Because ultimately, how something ages in the long term isn't something that you, the artist, can control, and like many art mediums, you need to be focused on what to create next, not on how well your old art pieces still hold up in the present where they've been removed from their original context.

And I think this rings true for a lot of Lore Olympus, beyond just the fashion. It's all just a little too safe. We see it in the fashion, we see it in her uncommitted writing decisions, we see it in how often she's willing to retcon things just to write herself out of corners.

And I think that's really Rachel's biggest weakness as a creator at the end of the day. As much as she's tried to put on the persona of "screw you, I'll do what I want", her actions are always the opposite of what she says. She says that the fashion in LO is very vintage, but I can count on one hand how many outfits were actually vintage. The vast majority of them are a lot more modern, with a lot of Western influences, and sometimes with a boob window thrown in.

Case in point, the most recent outfit of Persephone wearing a practically-nude sparkle dress?

That's Rihanna's Swarovski dress that she wore in 2014.

Now, to Rachel's credit, she did find a way to personalize this to Persephone by removing the cap and giving her a rose-shaped bun, but the outfit itself is still just copied directly from Rihanna. Not only is there not a whole lot of Persephone's influence beyond her being literally made out of roses-

-but there isn't anything calling attention to the fact that this is a Greek myth retelling. And this isn't just a problem with the Swarovski dress callback, this is a problem EVERYWHERE.

And of course, that's not even touching on the fact that Hades and Hecate are forced to wear suits constantly. Because, according to Rachel, the fashion inspiration for Hades and Persephone only went as deep is "he's the groom and she's the bride"-

Rachel plays it safe by sticking purely to the inspirations she consumes from modern American media. The "modern twist" on the myths in LO is literally just "it's Greek myth but it's set in Los Angeles". She doesn't seem to want to put herself out there and actually consume Greek content any deeper than what she can find on Google, and it shows in how little Greek there is in this Greek myth comic.

There is, ironically, as I've been told by community members in ULO, a fashion collection called Persephone created by Paolo Sebastian, and in it you can see the actual Greek influences in these outfits far more than what you see in even Persephone's most visually stunning outfits:

These are dresses and yet Paolo uses them as an opportunity to tell the story of Persephone, somehow even more faithfully than an actual written adaption of The Hymn to Demeter. Because fashion, too, can tell a story - and Lore Olympus' fashion, like its writing, has no story to really tell, at least not in Rachel's hands when she's just pulling whatever she can find from what she treats as a pile of "stuff" on Google.

And that's not even getting into how the writing plays it safe much in the same way as the fashion influences and artistic choices. A good example is that S3 premiere sequence, in which Hades and Persephone are pulled away from each other so that... they can get washed down by their family and peers.

Rachel doesn't really do anything to re-contextualize this reference for the context and setting and circumstances of LO, she just goes "I liked that bath scene from Beauty and the Beast so I'm going to put it in LO."

And of course, it doesn't work as effectively as it did in Beauty and the Beast, because the whole original point of that scene was to showcase the big and scary Beast being washed down like a dog by his servants-turned-into-furniture while he stresses over how he's going to win over Belle. It's a comedic subversion, artistically by showing the ferocious beast reduced into a wet dog, but also on a narrative level by showing through his dialogue and actions how nervous he is to impress Belle because his own fate - as well as the fates of his servants - depend on her falling in love with him. He can't afford to mess this up.

But in LO, it's two naked people who we already know love each other and are committed to each other, we've already seen countless scenes of them being sweet on each other and showcasing that they're into each other, and by all accounts they've already gotten their happy ending, so it makes no sense for them to just be like "OMG SHE LIKES ME?? I CAN'T BELIEVE SHE LIKES ME!" "should I seduce him?!?!??" because this seems like a no-brainer and there's zero actual stakes riding on this the way that there was with Belle and the Beast. Plus the people washing them down aren't their servants who are in the same situation as them, they're random gods from the Pantheon whose affiliation ranges from "family" to "never even had a conversation before". One of the women washing down Persephone has literally never spoken a single line of dialogue to her; another one of them was literally dumped by her partner because he wanted Persephone more than her. Who are these people and why are they enthusiastically appearing to give her a bath? Why is Hades being given a scrub down by his own brother?

And that's really the most striking difference between inspired references and derivative ones. Undertale was a game created by a guy who was in love with retro games like Earthbound and Megaman. Stardew Valley was a game created by a guy who loved Harvest Moon and used to play it with his girlfriend. Content that's built on the foundation of another is natural and the basis of inspiration, but you have to go further with it than just going "yeah this thing existed and I'm taking it", otherwise you miss the purpose of why those inspirations were created the way they were.

And when you don't actually explore how you can re-interpret those influences and add your own voice into them, that's how you wind up writing like Rachel whose writing is about as inspired as a cheap character swap cutaway gag from Family Guy.

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Rachel's great at referencing, but that's not at all an impressive thing to do as proven by Peter Griffin. She's not at all re-contextualizing or expanding on what inspired her... but she still claims that she's exactly what she's doing because she calls Lore Olympus a "deconstruction". But her deconstruction only ever goes so far as "well what if Aphrodite left Ares for Hephaestus instead of the other way around?" and then just showing that question and never answering it or delivering on the potential of what that could cause. At best, she'll ask a "what if?" but then never actually show us the what if, it begins and ends with the question and the question itself doesn't provoke any thought deeper than "huh, yeah, that would be neat I guess." Episode's over, next scene. What if we showed that clip of Bill O'Reilly freaking out on set, but like, replaced it with Stewie Griffin and changed nothing else about it except for that? That's the joke, next scene.

I know, we're digressing hard off the fashion here, but the fashion itself is just a symptom of a much bigger problem that expands even beyond Lore Olympus - Rachel plays things way too safe. Even her responses in her interviews are painfully subdued, often resorting to the same tired answers that we've heard 823190589320 times before to the same hand-picked questions that are undoubtedly chosen ahead of time to ensure she doesn't have to answer anything too complicated. And when she does say "I have thoughts about xyz" she never actually... expresses her thoughts. She just says she does and then moves on without any further elaboration because she can't wholeheartedly commit to whatever thoughts she has going on.

Granted, I'm sure that part of that is owed to the fact that she might feel like she can't say anything while the critics are breathing down her neck. I can understand that. But it's gotten so chronic that it's now bleeding into the work itself and it's led to even more criticism of her work. Need I remind you that this is the same person who copy pasted the definition of "xenia" from a first result Google search into her comic instead of naturally writing it into the script:

Rachel played it so safe that she basically treated her own audience like kindergartners by explaining what a scene meant even after explaining it in the text:

As true as it is in fashion, writing stories and making art takes risks. That doesn't mean you have to completely throw caution to the wind, but if you don't take risks, you do yourself the disservice of writing something that can truly be called unique and special to you. If you don't use your influences wisely, if you don't analyze and re-analyze what's influenced you over the years, you're going to wind up losing a lot of subtext in those influences and missing out on the opportunity to add your own voice into the re-interpretation. Rachel does take a lot of risks in LO, but they're not calculated risks, they're not risks that actually have any meaning behind them, she's sort of just throwing stuff at a wall and seeing what sticks, and worst of all, when it doesn't stick, she herself doesn't stick to it, she backpedals, she cowers away from the decisions she's made.

Rachel expressed her worries about depicting fashion that would become aged, but Lore Olympus is already aged through her own inability to commit to her decisions, take risks, and find her voice. It's aged itself through its poor interpretations of the myth, it's aged itself through its reliance on Tumblr tropes that have already been replaced tenfold, and it's aged itself through Rachel herself riding off the initial innovation of creating Lore Olympus and then never continuing to challenge herself or raise the bar for herself.

It proves true the discussion around why Lore Olympus became popular - at the time, it was groundbreaking, drawn in a style that we hadn't seen much of before, with fresh new takes on the myth; now, in 2024, its 'takes' feel tired and half-baked, and its art style has become a corporate-scrubbed shell of what it once was. And yet, Rachel is still rewarded for it all the same, so settling for comfortable mediocrity has become the name of the game.

Rachel may be trying as hard as the Disney life action remakes and Kim Kardashian to put herself on the same pedestal as the greats of yesteryear simply by copying what they did, but in playing it this safe and refusing to find her own voice out of the voices that influenced her, Lore Olympus isn't timeless. It's soulless.

#lore olympus critical #lo critical #anti lore olympus

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doki-doki-imagines · 7 months

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hiii, could you please do mk1 earthrealmers reaction to them trying to put music during spicy time but their s/o keeps getting distracted the whole time by singing/dancing along to every song that they choose, i just thought it could be a funny situation 😅😅

author note: I had to change the prompt a bit because it would have been a bit repetitive. If it's a problem feel free to request again. If you like what I write consider tipping on my new ko-fi!

Johnny Cage: -He prepared a romantic night to the best of his capabilities. Red petals on your bed, dim candlelights to illuminate the room, and a soft and sexy song playing in the background. -But something went wrong when all of sudden, between groans and heavy breaths "Poker face" started to play. -It doesn't stop Johnny from kissing down your neck, lips never leaving your skin. Your head isn't on the same wavelength tho. -You start to hum the song, but Johnny notices just when his lips caress your chest, feeling the vibrations underneath. -"Are you…singing along?" "Maybe? C'mon Johnny, it's impossible not to!" -He smiles, the kind that reaches his eyes and shakes his head before pulling you into his covered lap. Deft fingers working to free himself. -"Are you still in?" "Mh? Yes." You nod, your soft hands on his cheeks. "Perfect sweetheart. Keep singing to your heart's content, let's see how long it will take me to make you reach the highest notes."

Kenshi Takahashi:

-It was your idea to put music on, to try something new.

-Soon you forget about it, Kenshi reducing you to a puddle under his expert hands.

-You are so out of your mind that you don’t notice the songs going from slow and sexy to rhythmic and perfect for dancing.

-But then you notice something is off. His fingers, now in you move…strangely? Kenshi has always been a tease, but trying to avoid your sweet spot for so long it’s becoming tears-inducing, and not the pleasure kind.

-So you start to focus your attention on the movements of his fingers when finally realization hits you.

”Are you trying to keep the rhythm of the song, Kenshi?”

He looks at you, black eyes now full of shame, lips sucked in before nodding.

-He stops moving and a chuckle leaves your lips. You take the back of his head to bring him closer and kiss him.

“Nice sense of the rhythm. Next time I’ll make sure to choose the right songs.”

“I’ll help you with that.”

Kung Lao:

-It’s not the first time you put music on; the walls of his house are pretty thin.

-But usually, you use Lao’s playlist since he can be pretty picky with music.

-But this time he asked to listen to one of yours, curious to discover new songs.

-It’s all going like usual, ‘till you hear Lao humming. Your favorite song is also playing.

“So…you like this song too?”

“Damn, it’s so catchy!”

-You end up karaoke just in your undergarments with Lao.

-Don’t worry, you’ll get back to lovemaking later. After all, everything is more enjoyable if done with a smile.

Raiden:

-You were the one that asked him if you could try to listen to music while doing “it” and Raiden accepted with no problem.

-You made a new playlist trying to add songs Raiden could enjoy.

-Everything goes smoothly, you sit on his lap your tongue dancing with his, while Raiden’s hands travel down your body, caressing and groping.

-Until a song starts, and his movements stop. He is still kissing you, so you don’t notice something is wrong.

-“I’m sorry, I can’t do this.” Raiden pulls you off, annoyance dripping from his face.

“Mh? What is wrong, Rai?”

-“The song that is playing now…we used to sing it with Lao and Fujin when we were kids. It really broke my mood remembering their faces.” He groans out. The face of his best friend the last thing he'd like to remember in these kind of moments.

“You sang such a sexual song when you were kids?”

“You also sang sexual stuff without knowing the real meaning behind the words, right?”

You tilt your head before answering “Well, you have a point.”

-You don’t do any stuff that day, but you decided that it will be Raiden to make the playlist next time.

Liu Kang:

-You know he likes listening to music in his free time, so you think he may enjoy your proposal.

-And he does! Nodding at you with a big smile, a joy that reaches his eyes.

-Mostly because he thinks too that it could be really hot.

-Everything is going as planned, his hot mouth biting your throat while his hands travel from your hips to your back. Until a song starts to play and a sigh, not one born from pleasure, leaves his lips.

-Liu Kang has to sit on the bed. Now sobbing uncontrollably. That song is the one he used to sing with his Kung Lao when they were just kids. When Lao and Raiden became his family.

-You have never seen Liu crying so you worry immediately, asking him what happened, your soft arms hugging his back, trying to calm him down.

-There will be a lot to unpack…

Geras:

-He doesn’t know mortal traditions so he doesn’t mind if you put music.

-And he also doesn’t mind when you start to sing and dance around! But you’ll have to explain to him it’s not some kind of dance to attract the potential partner.

-“Unless…”

“What?”

“Do you find me hot while dancing? Even when I sing so terribly?” You whisper out, your arms around his neck, heads a few inches apart.

“I always find you hot.”

-There is a moment of silence where you’ll look straight into his eyes.

“Come here.”

-Music is soon forgotten in the background.

Bi-Han:

-He is playing his transverse flute when you approach him.

-You reached the level of comfort where Bi-Han feels at ease playing in front of you, and you love it; he really has talent.

-But you decide to spice things up this time.

-You approach him, sliding kisses down his neck while he is still playing the flute, deft fingers opening his uniform, now dropping to the ground.

-“What do you think you’re doing?” He stops, voice rough, but with no bite.

“Just having fun. Keep playing, Grandmaster.” You wink at him, not moving until he starts playing the instrument again.

-And he does, never missing a note even with your warm mouth reaching more arousing parts of his physique. It’s when you drop to your knees that he stops again, his hand now in your hair, pushing you away from his crotch.

-“Now listen to me-“

You tsk, brushing his hand away, confidence dripping from your eyes.

“A snake obeys his charmer only when he plays his flute. Keep doing that Bi-Han.”

-He gulps down loudly. You know that a harsh comeback just died in his throat. He nods at you, his lips back on the instrument.

-Maybe you were the real charmer this time.

Kuai Liang:

-He has to admit that he gets annoyed by your change of mood.

-Liang loves to hear your sounds, so putting music in the background isn’t really his thing but he also thought “Why not try?” It’s not like it was a big no-no for him.

-But now it is. For Liang intimacy is a serious moment and even if he may sneak some jokes once in a while he prefers to keep a more serious atmosphere.

-He gets grumpy so it will take a lot of effort to put a smile on his face. For sure lovemaking is delayed.

-With enough convincing Liang may dance along with you, but don’t force him to sing or he will go back to grumpy.

Tomas Vrbada:

-He smiles when he notices you humming the song, but soon follows you.

-Tomas won’t dance with you, preferring to look at you from his comfortable position on the bed.

-But he will sing! His singing voice is terrible but it’s the feeling that matters.

-At some point, Tomas will get closer to sneak kisses here and there.

-After all, you are dancing just in undergarments; it’s a wonderful sight that makes his blood run awfully quick away from his brain.

-Lovemaking is not delayed, he will pull you toward the bed with him. Just the mood changed, a lot of smiles and playful kisses shared.

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twilightnesss · 2 months

Text

・.・✫・゜secret gardens in my mind

pairing: kate martin x gf!reader

summary: after long and stressful days for kate while also being captured in the public eye, kate always turns to the one private thing in her life. her girlfriend, kristal.

warnings: smut; fingering!kate receiving. bottom kate (i hate it but it felt right)

divider from @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

kate stood at the window of her las vegas apartment, gazing out at the bustling city below. the sun had set, casting a golden hue over the skyscrapers, their outlines stretching into the pink and orange sky. the view was breathtaking, yet it did little to soothe her hiked nerves. another hectic day in the life of a star basketball player had taken its toll.

as if on cue, her phone buzzed with a text, and a small smile played on her lips. it was from kristal, her girlfriend—a soothing balm to her soul. come over soon, the message read. i'll help you relax.

turning away from the window, kate quickly changed into something more comfortable, her movements filled with anticipation. she slipped on a soft pair of sweatpants and a loose-fitting zip up. this was her evening routine, a sacred ritual that helped her unwind from the chaos of her public life.

stepping out of her apartment, she made her way downstairs, her footsteps echoing through the quiet lobby. as she stepped outside, the cool evening air nipped at her nose, and she breathed it in deeply, savoring the freshness.

kate's strides were purposeful as she walked the familiar route to kristal's apartment, her mind beginning to unravel and her shoulders relaxing with each step. the bustling city streets, usually a source of anxiety due to the constant attention, now felt like a welcoming backdrop to her private escape.

as she approached her destination, her heart rate quickened in anticipation. she climbed the stairs to kristal's floor and knocked softly on the familiar door.

the door opened, and there stood kristal, her haven in this chaotic world. kristal's eyes glistened with a welcoming warmth, her dark hair falling softly around her shoulders. she stepped aside, inviting kate inside with a gentle gesture.

the apartment was filled with the soothing aroma of incense, and soft jazz music played in the background, creating an ambiance that immediately slowed kate's racing thoughts.

"i've been thinking about you all day," kristal whispered, leaning in for a tender kiss.

kate melted into the embrace, the stress of the outside world momentarily forgotten. kristal's full lips and the subtle hint of mint in her mouth ignited a fire within her. breaking the kiss, kristal led kate further into the apartment, their hands intertwined.

seated on the plush couch, kate allowed herself to be drawn into an intimate embrace, kristal's slender fingers caressing her hair and neck. the tension that had been building up within her began to unwind. kristal's expert hands massaged her shoulders and back, working out the knots with practiced ease.

"you always look so stressed when you come over," kristal murmured, her breath warm against Kate's ear. "let me help you let go of all that."

with that, kristal stood up and began unzipping kate’s hoodie, her eyes never leaving kate's as she slowly revealed the soft skin beneath. once the hoodie was removed, kristal's hands returned to massage kate's bare shoulders, her touch even more exhilarating without the barrier of fabric.

kate's breath quickened as she felt kristal's fingers trail down her spine, and a shiver ran through her body. kristal's lips found their way to the nape of her neck, planting soft kisses that sent shudders down her spine.

"i want you to relax completely," kristal whispered, her voice like velvet against kate's sensitized skin. "let me take care of you."

kate felt herself being guided to the center of the room, where a large bean bag chair awaited. kristal helped her settle onto it, and kate reclined, closing her eyes as Kristal's skilled hands continued their magical touch. the world around her faded away, and she surrendered to the soothing atmosphere, her mind drifting into a peaceful haze.

kristal's massages had a hypnotic effect, and kate lost track of time, her body becoming heavier with each passing moment. the tension melted away, leaving her feeling weightless and serene. and then, kristal's hands stopped, and a momentary silence enveloped them.

kate opened her eyes to find kristal kneeling before her, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. without a word, kristal reached for the hem of kate's leggings, slowly slipping them off her muscular legs, revealing the smooth skin beneath.

kate's heart raced as she understood kristal's silent invitation. she sat up slightly, eager to reciprocate the favor, and began untying the loose knot of kristal's robe, revealing the curvaceous body beneath.

with gentle hands, they explored each other's bodies, touching, caressing, and kissing with utmost devotion. their breaths synchronized in the quiet room, the soft music providing the perfect backdrop to their intimate dance.

kate took her time, savoring the taste of kristal's skin, the scent of her perfume, and the feel of her supple curves. every touch was intentional, every kiss filled with longing. she explored every inch of kristal's body, relishing the soft moans and shivers that her touches evoked.

similarly, kristal's expertise in arousing kate was evident. her hands seemed to know exactly where to wander, and her lips devoured kate's with a hungry passion that matched her own. the bean bag chair became their sanctuary, a soft nest for their built up desires.

their kisses intensified, and kate felt the heat of desire build within her. she craved more, needing to feel kristal deeper inside her.

with gentle urgency, they guided each other to lie down on the large bed nearby. the soft sheets dipped beneath them, and they nestled together, their bodies now aligned.

kate felt kristal's hot breath against her collarbone as her strong thighs bracketed her hips. a low moan escaped kate's lips as kristal's fingers found their way to the most intimate parts of her body, skillfully teasing and pleasing her.

the pleasure built in waves, and kate surrendered to the sensation, her hips rising to meet kristal's expert touches. the room became a blur, the outside world non-existent, as she was lost in a maelstrom of pleasure.

kristal's name escaped her lips in passionate sighs, her fingers entwined with kristal's as they both rode the high of an intense orgasm. the aftermath left them content and breathless, their bodies glistening with a fine layer of sweat.

lying in each other's arms, kate felt the weight of the day lift from her shoulders. kristal's steady heartbeat against her ear soothed her soul, and she knew that this was her sanctuary, a place where she could truly be herself and find peace.

as the night deepened, they shared whispers of their day, their voices soft and intimate in the dark room. the scent of sex and the soothing jazz created an atmosphere that was both exhilarating and calming.

eventually, reality hit, and they reluctantly parted ways, dressing in silence as the moon cast a silvery glow over their intimate space.

kate exited the apartment, a sense of calm and contentment washing over her. the city streets seemed quieter now, and the paparazzi nonexistant. she breathed in the night air, feeling rejuvenated and grateful for the sanctuary that kristal provided.

returning to her own apartment, kate felt a sense of balance restored. she knew that no matter the chaos that awaited her tomorrow, she had a secret weapon—a loving embrace that could melt away any stress.

as she drifted off to sleep, kate smiled, knowing that while the public eye may capture her image, her true self belonged to another—a captivating woman who provided her with a sanctuary of sensual bliss.

a/n: hehe.. love , lana

#kate martin #kate martin x reader #wnba #womens basketball #wbb x reader #iowa wbb #kate martin x oc #kate martin smut

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ramblingthoughtsofayoungadult · 11 months

Text

Bad PR-Jordan Li Fic

A/N: I saw someone post about needing a fic about Jordan being in a relationship where they're "unmarketable" and haven't been able to get the idea out of my head since. This is written with a black reader in mind. I also have a sequel in mind if anyone wants it.

Word Count: 3739

Warnings: Some sensuality and swearing.

I don't claim to own any characters or property from Gen V or The Boys. All credit to the original gif creators.

Silence was something that I always thought I longed for. Every day for the past twenty years, there was noise, whether it was someone (usually multiple) talking, music blasting, cars going by, or screaming. By now, I thought I would have learned how to tune it out and focus on what was most important: save the little kids from a burning school, study as hard as I could to get into GOD U, and manipulate social media algorithms so much it would make tech experts’ heads spin.

But, I hadn’t. Then, I thought I got used to the noise, the demands to take pictures with total strangers, the background noise of a song I was doing a TikTok challenge to, Liza, my Vought-assigned PR rep, and my parents insisting on what I should wear, and the constant buzzing in the back of my head that my ability caused. However, as I laid on Jordan’s bed, listening to them ramble about Brink, I didn’t mind the noise so much.

“I mean, he’s kind of a mad genius but for good,” Jordan stated. Then, they turned to me with a sheepish smile on their face. “Sorry, I’m boring you, aren’t I?”

I shook my head. “No, no, it’s alright. Brink’s brilliant and it’s amazing that you’re his mentee.” I pushed myself up onto my elbows. “Besides, you’re pretty cute when you’re excited.”

Jordan rolled their eyes and slowly made their way towards me, stopping right at the foot of their bed. “Only when I’m excited?”

“Shut up, you know you always look good,” I teased.

They playfully flipped their hair and batted their eyes. “Well, we can’t all have a glam squad on call so I appreciate it.”

I scoffed, rose to my knees, and playfully pushed their shoulder only for them to switch to their masculine form and grab my hand. “That’s not fair and I didn’t even ask for them, my parents and Liza insisted on it when I got in.”

Jordan nodded but I could tell they weren’t listening since their eyes were on my lips. “I don’t feel like talking anymore.”

Something about their deeper masculine voice sent tingles down my spine and made my stomach feel fuzzy. Then again, they easily caused the same effect in both forms. My breath caught in my throat as soon as our lips touched, and I could feel my heart rate pick up. I tried to relax in their gentle but firm grip as I wrapped my hands around their neck, but it was easier said than done.

Suddenly, my back was against their bed and the kissing got more fervent. Jordan slipped their tongue down my throat and trailed one of their hands down my leg. I shivered as they pulled my leg up around their hip and pressed further into me.

“I should’ve known this is what you meant when you said you wanted to hang out,” I breathed after pulling away for a second.

“I had good intentions but you kept screwing me with your eyes,” Jordan huffed back.

“No, I---” Jordan cut me off, switching to their feminine form and kissing my jaw, working their way down my neck. “Not…fair.”

One of their hands slowly started trailing up under my (their) sweatshirt and I tried to stifle my giggles at the soft touch. After a couple of seconds, I couldn’t help but start giggling and covered my face when Jordan paused their actions and looked up at me.

“Still ticklish?” Jordan teased.

“Shut up, it’s your fault since they're your hands,” I groaned through another laugh.

Jordan smirked at me and ran their hands down my waist, gently tapping my sides, causing more laughter on my end. I tried to reach for their hands to stop them but they were too good at dodging me. At some point during my laughter, my phone started ringing.

“Ignore it,” Jordan whined as they pressed their head against my stomach, their big brown eyes somehow looking bigger and browner than usual.

“I can’t,” I whined back as I pulled away from them and grabbed my phone from my desk. “It’s Liza, I have to answer.”

Jordan rolled their eyes. “That bitch has the worst timing.”

“She might not be able to help it.” I quickly answered the phone. “Hey, Liza.”

“Y/N, I’m on campus and we need to talk ASAP. Meet me outside the Crimefighting building in five,” Liza rattled off.

“Oh, sure, what’s it about?” I asked.

“I’ll tell you when I see you.”

She clicked off and I turned to Jordan, who was much less than pleased.

“Let me guess, you have to go,” they said.

“I’m sorry, it sounded important,” I said as I started grabbing my stuff from around their room. “I’ll try to make it quick.”

“No, don’t worry about it.” They pushed themselves off the bed and stood in front of me, gently grabbing my hands in theirs. “It’s your career and I’m proud of you. I knew what I was getting into when the Cyclone became my girlfriend.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Ugh, don’t say it like that. But I appreciate you and I will show you as much later.” I quickly kissed them and grabbed my shoes. Just as I was about to leave, I paused at something in their closet. “Is that my jacket?”

Jordan shook their head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I snatched the item from the closet and held it out. “Jordan, you’re going to try to convince me that you’re into vintage Yves Saint Laurent?”

“Your taste rubbed off on me,” they said with a shrug.

“I’m flattered.” I put it back in their closet.

“By the way, do you know where my black hoodie went?”

“See you later!”

About four and a half minutes later, I was sitting at an outdoor table with Liza and my parents. Despite the summer heat, Liza was wearing a navy skirt suit, and her graying black hair was tied into a severe bun on the top of her head. She was typing on two different phones and her laptop simultaneously, deep blue eyes never staying on anything too long. My mom, who sat on my right, smiled kindly.

“So, Y/N, how does it feel to be a junior?” she asked.

“Great, Mom. I thought I told you and Dad that you didn’t have to hover this much since I am a junior now,” I said, glancing at my dad who was on my other side.

“We’re not hovering, it’s been two days since we dropped you off,” Dad insisted. “Besides, this is about business.”

“Wha---”

“Oh my gosh, is that Y/N Y/L/N?” Someone squealed behind me.

“Show time,” I sighed.

The “someone” was actually two someones, a pair of what looked like freshmen. One was a tall, pretty brunette in a white graphic tee and matching mini skirt and the other was an equally pretty, slightly shorter brunette wearing jean shorts and Vans. The taller one held her V-Phone with a death grip.

“Can we take a picture with you?” The taller one asked.

“Of course.” I stood from my seat and made my way over to them.

“I can take it.” But before my mom could stand, Liza shot up from her seat, grabbed the phone, and ushered us closer together.

“Okay, Y/N in the middle, Tall Girl on the left, Short One on the right,” Liza instructed, eyes never looking up from the camera.

“It’s Ashley,” the short one said.

“Smile!”

I did as I was told and the girls were walking away before I could even say an obligatory, “No problem.”

Both my parents smiled as I sat back down.

“It’s great to see that you’re still popular after all this time,” Dad said, his eyes hidden behind his tinted sunglasses.

“As she should be. Y/N has thirty million followers across all her social media and she does amazing in the Midwest and the South, both tough demographics for young black women,” Liza stated.

“Thanks, Liza,” I said, mindlessly playing with the ends of my butterfly locs. “So, you mentioned you were coming but left out my parents.”

At this, Liza finally paused from typing and looked up at me. She slowly set her elbows on the table and rested her chin on top of her pale hands. My head involuntarily started shaking from side to side and Liza lifted one of her hands.

“Let me speak first, Y/N, and then we can argue about it,” Liza stated.

“The last time you said that, I ended up almost getting mauled by a dog during an animal shelter livestream,” I hissed.

“Well, the dog had a serious history of trauma,” Liza insisted.

“You didn’t inform me of that before insisting I cuddle with it for the camera!”

“It was a learning lesson: you are fantastic under pressure.”

I huffed and folded my arms over my chest. “So, what is this about?”

Liza assumed her previous “Serious business” pose. “Like I was saying, you’re doing fantastic numbers. That last TikTok you and Cate did hit a hundred million views in less than twenty-four hours.”

“The ‘Rover’ challenge wasn’t that hard,” I commented.

“That’s amazing!” Mom practically cheered.

“That’s my girl,” Dad said, wrapping his arm around my shoulders.

I smiled despite the strong sense that a “but” was coming.

“However,” Liza continued.

Uh oh.

“My job is to do everything in my power to make sure everyone associates Y/N Y/L/N and Cyclone with beauty, intelligence, grace, taste, and power. So, we are a little concerned about Jordan.”

Immediately, my shoulders tensed and I gritted my teeth. “Who exactly is ‘we’?” I glanced at my parents.

Mom’s eyes widened and I had no idea what Dad was doing.

“No, of course not, Sweetie, we love Jordan. They have been a fantastic influence on you,” Mom insisted.

I could feel my face warm up about what had transpired with Jordan a few minutes ago. I doubt that would fall under “good influence”, or any time we went out with the others.

“And they give you a run for your money when it comes to combat. You need someone challenging like them. Plus, that Luke boy isn’t bad either,” Dad added.

As their words sunk in, I had a strange feeling that my parents were there to lessen a Vought-sized blow. My suspicions were confirmed when Liza’s lips pressed more firmly together and she was glancing at one of her phones.

“Are you reading a script right now?” I seethed.

Liza’s head shot up and she shook her head. “No, no, Y/N, not at all. Just some notes.” She quickly regrouped. “I understand that you’re happy and you’re probably having some fantastic sex right now----”

“Liza!” I interrupted, praying that the ground would open and swallow me whole.

Suddenly, Dad’s arm was back at his side, and Mom was suddenly very captivated by a pair of seniors skateboarding past.

“But the facts are that a bi-gender Asian supe is not marketable in the Deep South or the Midwest,” Liza said. “I am not shaming Jordan for who they are but, my job is to sustain your relatable-but-unattainable brand and not let anything get in the way of it.”

“You’re saying my partner is a threat to my career?” I asked, my voice much hollower than I intended.

“Potentially. Now, I have come up with a very good alternative.” Liza turned her laptop so it was facing my parents and me. On it was a picture of Andre and some clips of us on social media. “Andre Anderson tested very well. Our focus group members responded positively to the black power couple aesthetic.”

“We’ve met him before, he’s nice,” Mom offered.

“He’s cool and I’ve met his dad and I could see us all getting along,” Dad mentioned.

My head was swirling with so many thoughts that I was convinced I was either going to be overwhelmed by them or find one that was coherent enough to state. My mouth settled on, “It’s the twenty-first century and you’re all telling me I have to break up with my partner because of demographics? Jordan’s an amazing supe and they’re so smart, it’s scary. They can do---will do so much good and the only thing you care about is optics?”

Mom gently touched my arm. “Y/N, please, calm down.”

When I glanced around, I noticed that several Vought-A-Burger wrappers, a couple of cigarettes, and a few panicked squirrels and rabbits were swirling around the table. Quickly, I released the small animals and put the trash in the nearby receptacle.

“Sorry about that,” I muttered, eyeing Liza.

“I understand that you have strong feelings for Jordan but, think about it. With the right moves, you could be living in The Tower with the legends of your generation. Sure, you’re number three at GOD U right now, but this status can easily go away. You’ve worked your entire life to be the hero that little black girls everywhere look up to. Don’t take Cyclone away from them before she even starts,” Liza warned.

I desperately wanted to say something snarky, but my mind was blank. The only thing I could sense was my throat tightening up and my eyes beginning to well. I brushed a loc out of my face to play it off and tried to gain my thoughts.

“How much time do I have before I make a decision?” I asked.

“Twenty-four hours. I’ll be looking out for your call, text, email, or video call,” Liza stated as she started to pack her things.

My parents stood and Mom gave me one of her warm hugs and Dad pulled me to his side.

“It will be okay, Y/N,” he whispered.

I swallowed the giant lump in my throat to thank him and then insisted on walking them back to their car.

A few hours later, Elle Woods was sobbing in the fanciest restaurant in California while I carefully placed my baking pan in the oven. As much as I wanted to sob, I had no time for tears, I had to think. The thinking led me to have so many circular thoughts that my head spun and I resorted to baking and watching my favorite movie.

If Elle could solve a murder case and exonerate her client as a first-year law student, I should be able to figure out this PR mess. On the one hand, I was happier with Jordan than I’ve ever been with anyone. On the other hand, my dreams and my family’s position were hanging by a thread.

Maybe it was better that I channeled my energy into baking cupcakes.

I exhaled a small gust of wind to clear the bowls and utensils from the counter and place them in the dishwasher. Then, I focused on pushing multiple gusts of wind from my hands to clean the counters and wash the dishes. By the time I was done, I was exhausted and flopped on my couch to mindlessly watch the movie.

Unfortunately, the bright and colorful backdrop of Elle’s LSAT studying montage did nothing to take my mind off my dilemma. All I could think about was Jordan’s face when I told them. Breaking up with them would be like shooting a puppy’s mom in front of the puppy and making it watch it bleed out.

How would I tell them anyway? Hey, babe, I’m sorry I had to run out on us almost hooking up to meet with Liza and my parents. Funny story, they want me to break up with you so that I have a shot at a career and date Andre instead. See you for that morning lecture?

Knock! Knock! Knock!

The sound jolted me from my thoughts, and I pushed myself off the couch to answer it. “Rufus, if you try to get me into your room again, I swear to----” I cut myself off at the sight of Jordan, in their feminine form, staring back at me.

They wore a navy sweatshirt and black sweatpants. Also, their cheeks were more flushed than usual and they smelled like their sandalwood body wash, meaning they had probably stopped by the gym recently.

�� “Is Rufus bothering you again? I’ll go murder him right now,” Jordan said.

I quickly grabbed their wrist. “No, I appreciate the thought but I’m fine, besides, I can take care of myself.”

“I know but I can’t help but worry.”

A strange warm, tingling sensation ran its way from the center of my chest throughout the rest of my body. I was sure that if someone listened closely enough, they would hear me buzzing.

I stepped aside to let Jordan in and leaned against the door to close it. “So, what brings you by?”

They wandered over to my couch, sat down, and grabbed my phone off the coffee table. “Because you haven’t been answering my texts or calls.”

“Crap, I am so sorry, Jordan, I’ve just had a lot on my mind.”

Jordan glanced around my dorm. “I can see that.” They sniffed the air. “Legally Blonde and you’re baking, what happened at the meeting?”

Of course, Jordan would cut straight to the point. Usually, this kind of banter was pleasant but my stomach was in knots as Liza’s words and my parents’ expressions replayed in my mind.

“What? I can’t bake and watch a comfort movie after a last-minute PR meeting?” I asked rhetorically, crossing the room to my desk to start organizing my textbooks.

“Don’t try to deflect, Y/N. Tell me what happened.” Their voice was gentle but firm and I knew that they were not going to let me out of this conversation.

So, I set Brink’s latest book down and sat across from Jordan on my tangerine accent chair. I prayed that I would find the right words to say before blurting them out. As soon as I made eye contact with them, my chest tightened.

“Well, Liza surprised me by having my parents join us,” I started.

Jordan raised their eyebrows. “Shit, this is serious.”

“Uh-huh. Liza said that my numbers are doing great and I’m on track for a promising career.”

“And?”

I gulped. “And…she’s concerned that my personal choices might get in the way of that.”

Jordan frowned. “Personal choices? Every college kid known to man has done illicit substances and drank alcohol underage. You’ve never been caught doing any of that anyway.”

“You’re right but she wasn’t talking about partying; she was talking about us.”

As soon as the bomb rolled off my tongue, I saw its impact on Jordan, from the flashing expressions of confusion and anger to the clenching of their fists. I just wanted to make it stop.

“What?”

As I rambled Liza’s reasoning, I could sense the hurt and animosity flowing from Jordan. Once I finished, the timer for the cupcakes went off and I jumped up to grab them. I could have cried at the momentary escape as I set them on the counter to cool.

“She weaponized your desire to be a positive role model for other girls who look like you to screw you over,” Jordan said slowly.

I wiped my hands on my sweatpants. “Liza’s doing her job, babe, and she’s looking at all angles, including how it could impact my goals.” I returned to my seat and folded my hands in my lap.

“Her job is to make you choose between your relationship and your career?” Jordan asked. “That’s bullshit, this whole thing is.”

“I know, Jordan, trust me, I know, I almost started a small tornado when she said it.”

Jordan eyed me closely for a second. “What else did she say?”

“What?”

“I can tell you’re holding back, Y/N. Whatever else you have to say, it can’t be any worse.”

They might have just jinxed that.

“Liza thinks that Andre would be a better fit for me because a bunch of people like the idea of a black power couple.”

Jordan had two angry responses: the first was they would attempt to tear down anything and everything around them unless consoled. The second was they would become unresponsive and deal with all their rage internally. That night, I got the second one. Their eyes were hollow and the color drained from their face. My eyes welled up as I hoped for them to start screaming, swearing, or something, but nothing happened.

“But I don’t want to do it, Jordan, I think it’s so stupid.” I knelt in front of them, grabbed my phone from their hands, and set it aside to hold them. “My parents don’t even really agree with Liza because they know you and they think you’re awesome.”

“What do you think?” they muttered.

“Like I said, I think it’s stupid. We can figure something else out. Liza can spin us as the ultimate diverse power couple, huh?” I did my best to smile as widely as I could. “Come on, let’s forget about this. I made white velvet cupcakes with cream cheese filling. You can be my first taste tester once they cool.”

Things would work out, they had to. We would figure something out and survive our junior year at GOD U with little to no incidents. Suddenly, Jordan’s hands slipped from my grasp and they shifted to their masculine form.

“What if it doesn’t work out?” Jordan whispered.

“What do you mean?” I replied.

“I mean, you don’t necessarily have to be a supe but, I know that you’re scared for your parents. Your success has helped them a lot and it could destroy them if your reputation takes a hit,” they said. “And I’ve seen how little black girls light up when they see you now and how passionate you are about helping them and, I know that you’re just getting started and I don’t want to be in the way.” “Jordan…”

“I don’t want to hold you back anymore, Y/N,” they muttered.

Their words sunk deep into my core like a boulder and took all my words with it. I wanted to tell them that they could never hold me back and that they made me a better super, a better person. But all I could do was watch as they stood and walked out of my dorm, taking our one and a half year relationship with them.

#jordan li x reader #jordan li imagine #black!reader

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anadiasmount · 6 months

Note

TEACHING JUDE HOW TO PERREAR AAA (because you know there’s nothing worse than having a guy just loosely holding onto your hips and looking up at the ceiling as if he doesn’t want to be there) he’s so mesmerized by the way you move your hips but he knows he has to grip onto your hips and grind back and when he gets the hang of it it’s just 😮‍💨😮‍💨

salió el sol is the song i immediately thought of… it’s very much suitable for this blurb 🤭🤭

he had seen you outside waiting in line, watching how you made your friends laugh and danced a bit from the music that played inside the club. he watched you yet again when you walked into the place like you owned it, hair silky, tiny black lace dress, and those high heels that made your appearance like a sexy super model. all it took once eye glance and jude was hooked.

him watching you the entire night as you expertly played and gambled in poker, drank many shots to which you couldn’t get drunk off on, take pictures with your friends and even at one point working the dj booth. oh but don’t get started when the music switched from old r&b to old school reggeaton.

how you jumped from your spot and fixed your dress, throwing your hair back as you walked hand to hand with your friend down to the dance floor, so far yet so close from the vip booths. “where you going?” asked aurelien, patting the midfielder shoulder as he walked off. “gonna step here real quick, wanna see the crowd…” jude shrugged him off, determined to at least catch you, maybe even offer you a drink.

jude could sense you knew how to dance but not so explicitly and intimidating like this. a hand in your hair, shaking your hips side to side with knee bent, then throwing it back onto your friend, ass shaking as you came up with a sly and clever grin. jude locked his lips, leaning onto the railing, continuing to observe you, how you sensually rolled your hips, threw your head back almost in pleasure, your bottom lip between your teeth as you smirked and danced. a fucking expert… jude thought.

he couldn’t shake off the feeling your radiated. the whole club with their eyes on you. you were the show tonight, and he sure as hell loved it. his fingers gripped tight on his glass as he downed his final sip, not denying how gorgeous you were. jude was mesmerized, by you. and he wanted just a little taste even if he didn’t know how to dance himself.

at one point you had looked up locking eyes with the stranger who couldn’t keep their gaze off you tonight. your friend giving you an ‘i told you so’ look when you told her. “starting to get a little creepy don’t you think?” she spoke loudly as you continued to move your hips and ass to ‘baila morena’ that rang loudly in the club. you could feel the beat, the rhythm, the passion, all in every single song. you felt confident and even more so sexy.

“you’re wrong… the night is just getting started!” you wink at her, grabbing her hand and initiating for her to throw it back on you, hyping her every move as chants and praises were heard in the back from your friends and newer strangers.

time passed, your feet a tad bit sore after dancing for almost an hour. you sat at the bar, quietly stirring your drink with the thin black straw with legs crossed. you sense a familiar stare across from you, smiling at the stranger once again. “rude to stare no?” you’re quick to remark, earning a chuckle and him walking to you. “how so?” he said confidently, leaning against the bar with one arm.

“you’ve stared at me the whole night, like some shy boy in a corner, when deep down we both know what you want…” you cocked your brow up, taking a sip of your drink before turning slightly to face him. jude acknowledged you with a knowing nod. “will it still be rude if i ask to buy you a drink?” he offers, hearing how you laughed.

“not at all…”

“i’m jude,” he introduced. he extends his hand to shake yours, your hands fitting like puzzle pieces, “y/n… encantada.”

“i have to say… you’re an excellent dancer,” jude said, making you look up with a look. “quite a show you put on i must say…”

“jealous?”

“not particularly,” jude shrugged.

“then follow me,” you stood up, grabbing his hand once again before he stops you. “w-wait, i -i don’t know how to dance…” he shyly admits. “well you said so yourself, im an excellent dancer? i’ll teach you,” you guided him to the dance floor, cheering when you hear “salió el sol’ by don omar playing in the dj booth.

“first things first is, you can’t be stiff, let the music flow through your veins,” you advised, smiling as you grabbed on to his shoulders and lead him deeper the crowd. “second, it’s all in the hips, if you can’t move them, then it will suck…” you winked, jude giving you a half grin.

ella lo vuelve loco como se menea, bailando pura candela, lo vuelve loco cuando se acelera, y pela

you show him by circling your hips, guiding his hands to grip and feel as they moved. jude feels his pulse on his wrists quicken, the affect you have on him slowly turning him on, not being able to resist and pull you closer. his feet widen a bit, shocking you as you went between them, continuing your slow movement as you gently grinded on him, feeling his prominent abs as you did.

y yo quiero saber cómo es que baila la julieta… julieta baila sexy con la mano en la cabeza

you turned slowly, your back against his chest as jude dragged his hands along your sides. “you sure you don’t know?” you tease, a bit shocked at how quickly he was learning. “yep… have the best teacher on me currently,” you feel his lips trace your ear, your ass on his crotch as you continued to move your hips now more taunting. “dancing so confident… so sexy…”

you close your eyes, head thrown back on his shoulder, a hand coming to rest on the nape of his neck, the other interlocking with the his that circled your waist. “am i doing right?” jude closed the last bit of space, grinding and bucking his hips with yours so sensually, so hot. jude resists the groan escaping his lips as you whimpered softly.

“doing so good jude…”

the two of you are under a spell, bodies contracting and moving flowy. the different shades of light, the music, the tension, it’s all to much, yet you can’t seem to pull away even when you both lose control and are out of sync. jude’s head nestled into you neck as you feel his hard cock on your ass, his hand low on your abdomen pressing your even closer, whispering daunting words that have you trembling to the tip.

lo de ella es playa y arena, se excita cuando el sol la quema, quiere reggeaton, discoteca pa' la nena, se le mete en las venas

“is it supposed to feel like this?” he asked, pressing a feather kiss on your jaw. “like how?” you stutter now his affect on you, feeling the drinks from the entire night beginning to have their affect. “so tender and intimate? so right?” jude was sure of one thing, that he was compelled by you, not just your dancing, everything about you. “answer me, or i’ll stop,” jude spoke, feeling your muscles tense, as you pushed back more, both his hands ln your hips again.

“you should feel more than just tender and sweet… you have to feel it here,” you turn swiftly, wanting to moan at the loss of contact. “you feel it here,” you touch his beating heart, similar to the bass of the music. “and in here…” you brush his temple, jude placing a kiss on your wrist all the way down to your inner flesh.

you’re so sure by the end of the night you might forget his name and let it be as it is. but it’s clear jude has different plans, his strong muscular hand wrapped behind your back as your clung into his shoulders, your cunt allow rubbing against on one of his strong thighs.

“what else? teach me more.”

#judey thoughts 5️⃣#jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham blurb

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hcsiqs · 2 months

Note

16, kate martin, 🩹 ? love love love your writing

| expert at sorry

• pairing: kate martin x fem!reader

• prompt: “i want to hate you. but i can’t. and that—that sucks.”

• warnings: angst with no happy ending

awww thank u sm that means the world to me!!

You had moved to Vegas after college to have a fresh start. You had gotten a well paying job in your field and had made all new friends. It was nothing like college, which was exactly what you needed and wanted.

To not have to see Kate’s face everywhere you turned, to hear about how good she had played in a game, or being forced to go to her games even after the two of you broke up so your friends could go see Caitlin Clark shoot from the logo.

You could just live your life by focusing on your work and going out with friends at night. And now the people around you cared so much for you, even if you’ve only known each other for a little amount of time, you’d consider them your closest friends.

They met you at your worst and have helped you everyday to feel better about yourself and get you out of your shell.

“You look so sexy!” Andriana gasped as she turned you around to get a full look at your outfit. You had on a black see-through lacy top, a red bra underneath, and then a black mini skirt paired with black shoes.

“All the girls are gonna be begging to take you home,” Olivia giggled as she ran her hands down your arms.

“Thank you,” you shyly smiled, accepting their compliments, “And the both of you! Hottest couple of the century,” you smiled looking at them as Andriana’s hand found itself firmly planted on Olivia’s hip them both leaning into each other.

“Ok come on let’s go!” Devon yelled as she twisted the keys around her finger, trying to shoo everyone out of the apartment.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Y’all had been out for a couple hours and the loud music and lights were staring to get to you. Girls had came up to you and flirted but none of them were Kate.

Even after she had done you so wrong you still wanted to be under her arm, the place you found most comfort. But of course that would never happen.

You hadn’t heard anything about the blonde since March Madness as you had ignored every piece of basketball media because it hurt you too much. So, when the dj announced the Las Vegas Aces were there you weren’t expecting the next line to come out of his mouth, “And everyone’s favorite rookie, Kate Martin!” as cheers filled your ears you felt your heart practically stop.

“Y/N, are you ok?” Devon asked pulling your eyes away from the place that you had heard her name announced. “Y/N.”

“Yeah, Yeah, I’m good,” you gave a tight lipped smiled, “I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” you her as you pointed to in its vicinity.

“Do you want me to go with you?” she asked, her voice still laced with concern.

“No, it’s ok,” you nodded your head, “Be right back,” you told her before exiting the sweaty crowd of people and beelining to the bathroom.

Your eyes began to sting with the tears trying to make their way down your cheeks. It was crazy how one name could send you down this spiral.

As you made your way to the bathroom you, you failed to realize a blonde following behind you. But, when you entered the bathroom you caught a glimpse of her in the mirror standing a few feet behind you. “Kate,” you said after turning around to meet her blue eyes, the ones you had originally fell in love with. “I didn’t know you got drafted, congrats,” you crossed your arms over your body, suddenly aware of how exposing it was.

“I—uh—I didn’t know you moved here,” her hand reached to the back of her neck, “I wasn’t even sure it was you who I was following.”

“So, why’d you follow me?” you asked, pushing your hip against the sink.

“I don’t know. I just,” she paused trying to find the right words, “I fucked up, Y/N.”

“I know,” you nodded your head biting your lip trying to keep your voice stable. Finally after all these months you were hearing what thought you wanted to hear, but now that you had it, you weren’t sure if this is really what you wanted. Closure, that is, because it means it would all be over.

“I said really shitty things to you—,” she was cut off by someone entering into the bathroom and silently apologizing for interrupting, “Do you wanna go somewhere else?”

“We can go outside,” you told her as you pulled your phone out sending a quick text to your friends. You then followed her through the crowds until you were outside in the warm atmosphere of Las Vegas.

“I shouldn’t have said those things,” you noticed the way she still played with her fingers out of nervousness, “They weren’t true. You didn’t add stress to my life, like you were the only thing that didn’t give me stress. I just took all of my anxiety out on you and I’m so sorry,” she finished.

You stood quiet trying to figure out what words to say. You had been avoiding eye contact practically the whole time she was talking, just trying to soak in the sound of her voice.

“You probably hate me,” she ran her hand through her long blonde hair.

“I don’t hate you,” you shook your head finally meeting her gaze, “Trust me, I want to hate you. But I can’t,” you bit the bottom of your lip trying to keep it from going into a frown and allowing the tears to spill out, “and th—that really fucking sucks. Because you ruined my self image. I believed all those things you said,” you felt a tear fall down your cheek and immediately wiped it away. “I’ve spent months trying to rebuild myself from the way you left me.”

“I’m so sorry Y/N, and I will be for the rest of my life,” she stepped closer to you, but you still kept your arms around you almost as if they acted as a barrier.

“Did you really believe all those things you said to me?” your voice broke as the tears clouded your eyes and stared to stream down your cheeks. She immediately brought you into her grasp, her hand racking through your hair.

“No, no,” she shook her head before lying her chin on top of your head. You stood there crying into the shirt of the girl who had made you hate yourself and think that you were the problem in everything. “None of what I said was true. I was just scared shitless and I took it out on you. I should’ve never done that baby,” the familiar nick name slips out of her lips, and it sounds so right on her tongue that it takes all your strength to push away from her and not melt into her.

“You can’t call me that,” you stood back, wiping the tears from under your eyes, the mascara on the sides of your fingers.

Kate nodded her head, “Do you,” she started, “Do you think we will ever get back together?” she asked and you could hear the vulnerability in her voice.

“Not right now,” you shook your head, “I’m not saying never, but right now. No, I think I still need time.”

“I’ll wait,” she whispered. As you went to respond your friends came out of the club and stared at the two of you.

“Ok,” you nodded before walking over to them and waving a small bye to her before walking off.

Honestly it felt like a weight had been taken off your chest. You weren’t being weighed down by the blonde anymore.

And you were honest about maybe trying again in the future. You would just have to see a difference in her for it to happen.

#wnba #wnba basketball #kate martin #las vegas aces #las vegas #money martin #kate martin fluff #kate martin headcannons #kate martin angst #kate martin fanfic #kate martin x reader #kate money martin #wlw x reader #wlw love

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nyradragon · 1 year

Text

Counting the stars — Ellie Williams

Summary: You’re tipsy and can’t seem to stop bugging Ellie by trying to count each freckle covering her soft skin.

Placement/background: Living in Jackson reader and Ellie spend a late night at the tipsy bison!

Warning(s): Best friend!ellie, oblivious!reader, intoxication, foul language, light touching, flirting, crushing hardcore, kissy kissy, word vomit.

Authors note: Come on you can’t tell me you wouldn’t just get side tracked looking at ellie’s cute little freckles ahh! NOT proofread

reblog’s and feedback would be much appreciated!<3

You and Ellie had the night off after the rough week full of patrol and scavaging. Leading the two of you to decide to have a couple of drinks at the tipsy bison— well you had decided but also dragged the freckled girl along for the ride.

Ellie had stationed herself at the bar the small stool tucked away surprisingly more comfortable than she thought. She’d swirl the amber liquor around in her glass taking small sips now and then as she kept her eyes trained on you, bouncing around the dance floor with whomever you could get your hands on.

Ellie would chuckle to herself seeing how much you lit up everyone’s faces just by being— you. That’s what she loved about you, no matter how shitty the world is you were always a bundle of hope and you never failed to share it with others.

The green eyed girl brought the glass to her lips the liquor burning her throat as her eyes lingered on you, watching as you made your way over to her with a mischievous look on your face. Ellie would sigh knowing exactly where this was going you’d try it every time you two went out.

“The answer is still no you dweeb. Aren’t you tired of the same answer?”

Ellie sighed out as she rolled her eyes earning a small giggle from you, the liquid courage pumping through your veins as you swayed slightly to the music. Ellie on the other hand tried to not crack a smile at your altered state but failing as you leaned into her for more support, your hand pressing on her shoulder to balance yourself as hers pressed lightly at your hip.

“—b-but els please”

You’d drag out the ‘please’ pouting your bottom lip as you leaned more into Ellie’s touch trying your hardest to give her the best puppy dog eyes you could muster.

Ellie would let out a deep sigh, her eyebrows furrowed as she thought about it finding it hard to resist the small pout on your lips, wanting to just lean in and wipe it off your face. Ellie shook her head lightly trying to focus her thoughts as she cleared her throat, squeezing your hip lightly she stood up from her spot your bodies pressed together at the close proximity.

Ellie would reach over to her glass downing the rest of it, hissing quietly at the burning as she slid the empty glass to the end of the bar before letting her eyes land on yours.

“Fine, but only one song got it?”

She couldn’t say no to you for long she and you both knew that, you have to push the buttons just right and you were an expert at that.

Taking in a sharp breath at the closeness you’d give the girl a small nod letting your hand slide down from her shoulder, over her arm and onto the hand that was on your hip. You’d give it a light squeeze before pulling her hand away and intertwining your fingers together.

Reluctantly you pulled her towards the scares dance floor a couple of people dancing here and there. You’d stop towards the far right side of the dance floor turning your body so you were now face to face with Ellie.

A bright smile pulling against your lips as you heard the soft music playing, you’d drop Ellie’s hand bringing yours up around her neck resting them lightly on her shoulders. Ellie would gulp shifting from foot to foot looking completely out of her comfort zone as she struggled to know what to do with her hands, hovering them over your sides.

Giggling quietly you’d drop your hands from her neck, seeing the girl's eyes shoot up to yours a light blush spreading over her freckled cheeks. You’d grab her wrists lightly tugging them towards you, you’d place her hands on your waist giving them a small squeeze as you raised your hands again to interlock around her neck.

Swaying slowly to the music you’d let your eyes trace over the small freckles littering Ellie’s face. Almost like you were in a trance you brought your fingers up to touch her face lightly, before tucking some stray hair behind her ear letting it linger there.

“You’re so beautiful… ya’ know?”

It would come out in a whisper still lost in thought as you tried to count the freckles on her cheekbone, you could see the blush run a deeper shade as Ellie processed your words. She’d lean into your touch slightly gnawing at her bottom lip as she savoured the small gestures you were giving her.

“Pshh— shut up.”

Ellie would drop her eyes letting them linger at your lips before dropping lower to your neck her face feeling like it’s on fire. You’d drag your fingers down her jawline until it reached her chin lightly tilting her head back up so her eyes met yours again.

“I wasn’t finished counting.. now look at me.”

You gave the girl a warm smile the twinkle of mischief still in your eyes as you tilted your head to the side now running your fingers over the small marks.

Ellie would be beet red, the path your fingers travelled over her skin left a burning feeling in its wake. Ellie studied your features watching your eyes move over each freckle, your voice soft and breathy as you counted, catching numbers every couple of breaths.

She let her eyes flutter closed as your fingers inched closer to her lips. She memorized the feeling scared that she won’t get to feel it again, savouring your rough fingertips she’d feel your thumb run over her bottom lip.

Ellie opened her eyes slowly regaining her focus, realizing just how close you are. You could feel the freckled girls shallow breaths on your parted lips as you inched closer.

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest as Ellie’s thin fingers slide to your lower back digging into the soft skin. She’d use the position to her advantage tugging your body to press against hers causing you to take in a sharp breath.

A small smirk would pull across Ellie’s lips before she closed the space between you two. Moaning quietly as the moment finally happened— the moment you’ve been dreaming about each and every single night when you lie awake thinking about her.

The moment lingered as the music started to fade away, feeling intoxicated as the girl's lips moved against yours. Her hands tighten around your waist for a moment more before pulling away.

She sighed deeply as the music slowly filled the air around you two again, hands loosening from your waist as she pulled away to look into your blown out pupils.

“How many did you count?”

She let out just above a whisper, one of her hands sliding up your side before placing it lightly onto your cheek brushing her thumb back and forth. You’d shoot her a small smirk glancing down at her lips for a second before speaking softly.

“Mm.. —I think I’ll have to start again.”

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams fluff #tlou #tlou ellie #the last of us #tlou x reader #ellie williams x y/n #tlou fluff #wlw #fluff #tlou2 #tlou2 fluff #tlou2 x reader #*writing

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maikissed · 5 months

Text

and the day after that, and day after that part 2

jude bellingham x reader there's a bit of sexy times, so.. Jude likes them older so I here’s a part 2, what can I say...

Your stance awkward and stiff as you observed your surroundings, your gaze stopping a few times to glance in Jude’s direction. He didn’t seem much concerned or reserved regarding last night events and it filled you with such ire, that his confessions turned to be your burden to solve. Giving the impression as he’s been freed after voicing his decision, if u could call it that, waiting for you to make yours. As if there was any decision to make. You never wanted to make one. Your heart turned heavier at the thought of it alone, because every solution you considered in the morning seemed difficult. It was foolish. Would you break his heart? Could you? Something was telling you that he was not going to let you, and that was what frustrated you the most.

This whole day you’ve been very attentive and observant, and the revelations of many conclusions that hit you afterwards were astounding. He’s been benevolent, and caring, starting with the mug of warm lemon water waiting at you at the breakfast table. It’s been the fifth time that he prepared you your morning drink exactly the way you made it, but it’s been the first time you noticed that he remembered perfectly. He just shrugged it off. Simple gesture, with such new meaning suddenly. And then, twenty minutes later when Mia asked you if you’re willing to join her for swim, he nonchalantly stated the most obvious thing: “It’s only nine Mia, she’s not stepping one foot in the morning sun cause it’s too harsh”. He’s known you your whole life, of course he was aware of your habits and tendencies, but it struck you like a bullet after you realised not many people around you were so considerate. He’s always been close, always your favourite person to be around. He paid attention to every little thing there could be, that you preferred cauliflower over broccoli, the opinion that milk is for calves and not humans and it’s absolutely useless for our system, therefore you never drink it, so he always went on a hunt for a proper substitute for you. Even your brother frowned after you rejected the lactose free one in your coffee. Next, he remembered that you hate musicals, too big pillows to sleep on and creased, not ironed clothes. All of it, messing with your head the whole day, you were fuming. You swore something in your brain started to malfunction.

And it felt like bricks falling over your head when you caught yourself analysing his current encounter with a long-legged blond near the bar. What was it today? A nutter day? You took a big gulp of your sour drink.

“What is it with you today?” Mia slumped next to you on the settee “You’ve been having your little stuffy face on the whole day. Or is it the daiquiri?” she clicked her long nail on your glass.

“Don’t know, think I ate something bad” you murmured.

“You’ve barely eaten today” she snorted.

You sent her a sharp look.

“Maybe that’s it”

The eye roll she made at your answer did not slip your attention. Giving her a proper look you could tell your friend had already had one too many, as her accent turned heavier and her hair a little messier. She was a yapper when she was drunk, that’s for sure. She will not make this evening easy for you. And you’ve already been on pins and needles.

“You need a shag” she pointed out making you roll your eyes this time.

Well, we have an expert.

“I’ve had plenty just few days ago”

“From what I’ve heard, from you of course may I add, Alex’s not really living up to the expectations” she giggled quite proud of her valuable notice.

“He’s alright!” you fought back.

“Look around you! Maybe it’s time to taste something new”

Before you could really process what Mia’s intentions were, she suddenly stood up and your eyes widened, observing her wobbly stance, expecting the unexpected.

“Attention everybody!” she shouted and you froze, your eyes glued to her bright face “My gorgeous friend here needs a proper shag!” she accented the last word.

“Mia!” you gasped trying to grasp her arm to make her sit down because clearly, that was not very wise of her. Outrageous!

Many faces gathered on the terrace obviously turned your way to find the source of this blatant declaration. Your face probably beet root at the moment. What a night.

“She’s quite a treat, as you can see” she twirled to take a look down at you “Any possible suitors please report to me first!”

You could hear someone laugh in the distance and you flinched knowing for sure, that every hotel guest will definitely gawk at you for the rest of your stay.

You gaped at your petite friend with open mouth. Words blocked in your throat.

“Now, we wait and see” she sang sitting down and kissing your cheek in the process.

“There’s a special place for you in this world” you hissed “You should start rubbing dirt on yourself”

“Oh, death threats?!” she just laughed it off.

There was a movement on your side and you prepared yourself for the worst, turning your eyes up to spot Jude with an amused expression painted on his face. Oh, he loved that.

“Dance with me?” that was all that left his lips and you frowned, gazing at his palm extended to you.

“And we have the first candidate!” Mia chirped.

“Now I have to keep an eye on her, thanks to your little announcement, Mia”

You saw her sending him a small wink.

“I accept your application, Bellingham”

And as you had enough of this not very enjoyable to you situation, you stood up abruptly, taking the boy’s hand, letting him lead you near the dancing couples. The song was too slow for your liking. You lost the sense of your own body as he placed your palm on his shoulder, the other gripped lightly in his left hand.

“You’re wearing the necklace” he observed, his voice startling you a little since you were immensely focused on his fingers displayed on your bare back.

Big, almost covering it from side to side.

His comment made you remember that you indeed wore the delicate necklace he gifted you for your 24th birthday. White gold, because he knew you adored it. You never wore it on a daily basis because you found it too precious. And that he knew as well.

“What’s the occasion?”

“Well, obviously not because I’m being presented as an escort for tonight”

He laughed at your comment and you smiled at the sound of it.

“I wore it as a totem” you started after a few moments, your hand on his shoulder twitched uncontrollably “Of my undying… love and devotion for you, Jude” you watched his features turning serious. Dark, sparkling eyes boring into yours. “All of it, strictly platonic” you specified.

A soft smirk flashing in front of your eyes when he spun you around, pressing you much closer to him as you faced him again. Warm flesh, hard lines of his body, close.

“I am patient” he murmured quietly.

And you felt the vibration from his words on your skin! You realised you kept your mouth slightly agape. What an arrogant, self-assured little bastard. Making this hundred times more difficult for you than you expected. What will it take for you to put up this fight?

“My father once told me” he continued, taking advantage of a lack of response from you “That if you find a person that makes your heart serene, your head calm and your body light, it means you’re home. I have this and more when I’m with you, all I’m asking for is one chance”.

You remembered the boy, always around, not as loud as your brother, gentle, considerate, the boy who used to fix your bike when your brakes started to screech or share his last sour bubble gum with you because it was your favourite. The boy who held out his hand for you when you were jumping over the fences in your neighbourhood, the first boy who called you beautiful when you wore your awkward little baby blue dress at the end of the sixth school year. He resembled him so much now, in this moment. With his eyes big and shiny, honest, sincere.

You didn’t know but minutes has passed as you reminisced, taking in the sight of his face, changed over all those years, yet eyes still the same, always. You were still rocking gently into the music but all you could hear now was slow breaths of his and yours, felt the beating of your hearts inside your ribs that were touching. The rhythm was steady, synchronised. Serene. You stopped.

Taking a step back you still held his hand with yours and there was a glimpse of something close to dismay appearing all so sudden on his expression. For the first time. There it was, you could end it now. Finally the doubt showed it’s way to the surface and it was enough. With a heart on his sleeve he confessed. And you had the tool to became the executioner. But you didn’t let go of his hand and said nothing nonetheless, just took another step back wanting him to follow. Blood pumping in your veins as you wondered what exactly were you going to do? Maybe say? But you knew what you wanted to do, you just considered if you should. Not wanting to wait too long, you didn’t head to the stairs leading to your rooms as you planned at first, instead taking a turn to the small café near the lobby, empty now at this hour, with lights low.

You faced him again, slowly placing one of your hands on his neck, the other reaching for his cheek, your thumb grazing the skin there. He pulled you closer to him, his arm fully wrapped around your middle. You sighted. After counting three steady breaths you leaned in, realising you had to stand on your toes just a little to reach him right but he lowered his head to make you both comfortable. The soft touch didn’t turn into the kiss instantly, you gently swayed making the impression of leaning back again but you quickly realised you turned a bit dizzy. It was pleasant. So when you brought your lips back to his, you finally kissed him properly and he put the perfect pressure to it in response. Nothing about it was weird, as you considered for a second before making a move. A first kiss, yet felt very natural. Like it was promised. Like it simply waited for it’s right moment. Moving your hands further up, locking them behind his head you deepened the kiss, intensifying the movement of your lips against each other and there was a moment of your lips parting just a bit more, that he took advantage of, his tongue meeting yours in a stunning flick, making you let out a timid moan. Unwise. He pushed you back gently, your bum meeting with the edge of one of the tables around. You leaned back when he sped up, the kiss heating up and your heart skipped a bit. He took notice of a gentle push of your palm on his chest, breaking the contact.

“Don’t think too much, just feel me” he whispered against your lips.

He said it to simply comfort you but it sounded so sexy you could feel tingles spreading over every inch of your skin. You refused to open your eyes at first, but when you did (a mistake) you almost choked with your own breath at the sight of him. Towering over you, close, his palm on your cheek, the other hand gripping your hip. Oh, you’ve been so foolish.

And you kissed him again, the contact more firm, closeness more certain, you could feel your breath speeding up. You were practically sitting on the surface of the table right now. Another moan leaving your throat as you could feel him sliding in between your legs, your dress hiking up a little and you were inviting him, lewdly parting your thighs.

“Jude” you breathed pulling away “We should stop there”

He looked absolutely enchanting with his pretty eyes shining in the gentle lights around you. And you didn’t move or pushed him away, so he leaned in, brushing his lips on your neck, under your ear, going lower. The warmth and wetness of his tongue on this delicate skin made you loose your composure once again and you grasped his nape closing your eyes. It was way more than just a simple contact of two excited people. You felt drugged, ecstatic, freed.

“Stop” you whispered, not very convincingly but he stopped still.

You kind of regretted it.

“I might die if you stop me right there” he rasped.

“Bit dramatic” you smiled even though you felt like agreeing.

“I’m serious” he pecked your lips to kiss you again but you turned your head away.

“Let’s go upstairs”

“To have sex?” he whispered the question into your ear, spreading goose bumps all over your neck.

You laughed.

“To talk”

#football imagine #football fics #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham #bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham fic #jude bellingham x reader

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soobnny · 1 year

Text

practice makes perfect — hwang hyunjin.

trope. best friends to lovers. fluff. just kissing.

synopsis. hyunjin stresses how important it is that you help him practice for his role in your university’s upcoming play, especially the kissing scene.

word count. 2.1k words

warnings. hyunjin overthinks for a moment in the beginning. nothing else.

note. hello hi, i’ll be busy with exams in a few days so i thought to post something before i disappear for around a week !! please enjoy :) oh n u can still send an ask to be added in my skz permanent taglist!

Hyunjin’s falling, straight into the fire, because now, the harsh pull of pressure is weighing him down — sitting on his shoulders and refusing to budge from its place.

When he had decided to audition for your university’s upcoming play, it had been something of mere fun — a passion he was (unseriously) pursuing. It’s not like he had time anyway, he had a lot of deadlines that were way on top of his priority list for him to be participating in something that would for sure take up hours of his days. Hours that he needed.

It just so happens that he likes the play, and knew a song or two to participate in the auditions. It wouldn’t hurt to try out for extra credit, right?

When he got news of his acceptance, Hyunjin was a little conflicted, but grateful for the opportunity. He does enjoy performing, and if his acceptance letter to play the main role in their musical wasn’t enough of a sign for him to maybe start pursuing it seriously, he doesn’t know what else could push him. Besides, he has been thinking about it for a while. Maybe it was okay to sacrifice a bit of his hours.

So, he was ecstatic, to say the least.

But now, seated on his bed at nine in the evening with the script in his hand, he’s starting to regret his decision. What if he wasn’t good enough for the role? What if acting has never been made for him, and he was right to treat it as a silly hobby?

Hyunjin’s thinking, I could’ve really used this time to start that artwork for my midterm project.

It’s nine in the evening and he’s preoccupied in his own thoughts. It’s obvious when Hyunjin’s nervous — you’ve known him for so long to consider yourself an expert in his not so subtle ticks. The light tapping of his feet, the constant running of his hand through his hair, the fiddling of his fingers and flipping of the pages without a single thought behind his eyes.

So, you swallow the thick air. Your heart physically cannot take the sight of him looking genuinely terrified and conflicted.

“What’s wrong?”

His head peps up at the sound of your voice, his smile a little too tight lipped for your liking as he shakes his head in response to your question. “Nothing’s wrong.”

And yet he doesn’t stop fidgeting his hands on his lap. You know him too well to not be able to notice.

“Cmon, you know you can be honest with me.”

With a humourless laugh, he sighs and takes your hand in his. He finds that holding your hand has always calmed him down.

Something in the way your hand feels, touching the palm of his makes him feel that the entire world is at his fingertips, and he can conquer just about anything. It’s become a habit for Hyunjin to call you backstage just before a performance so he can spend the time holding your hand, or when he’s about to submit an artwork.

Hyunjin still remembers how you held his hand for the first time, and how he spent everyday after that memorizing the feeling of your hand tightly intertwined in his.

“Are you second guessing yourself?” When he snags his bottom lip between his teeth in response to your question, you know you’ve hit the nail.

Hyunjin has always hated admitting his insecurities and was thankful you always understood without him having to tell you.

Without missing a beat, you lace your fingers with his and tug slightly to get his attention. He maintains contact with your hand, his nervousness speaking without words as he rubs his thumb in small circles against the back of your hand.

“Jinnie, you can do it. You know, I really wish you could see what I see. Talent and success surrounds you and encompasses the entirety of your life. And I will spend the rest of my fucking life reminding you that you’re so worthy and capable of becoming who you want to be.”

He lets out an airy laugh, his free hand balling up a fist to punch your shoulder gently.

You know he gets the message, though, when he brings your intertwined hands up to his lips and places sweet, grateful kisses on the back of your hand and a small ‘thank you’ is mumbled in between.

He’s really grateful to have you, he thinks. And it amazes him how the one thing that means the world to him fits in the palm of his hand in this moment.

“Okay, now let’s memorize these lines, yeah? Practice makes perfect.”

He whines when you let go of his hand, but swallows it down anyways. You were right, he did need to practice, and there’s still time to hold your hand later and tomorrow and the day after that. So, he nods, getting back up to his feet, script in one hand and the other motioning for you to get up too. You confusingly follow.

Hyunjin grins brightly as he rummages through his school bag before shoving an extra copy of the script in your direction. Before you get the chance to ask, he’s already nagging at you — “You have to help me rehearse now. No take backs.”

You turn to shake your head, but fuck, it’s so hard to say no to Hyunjin when he’s standing so impossibly close you get an HD view of the stars in his irises and the crinkles at the corner of his eyes and the way his eyelashes flutter when he blinks. Why did he have to look at you like that? How come you’ve forgotten how to say ‘no’?

“Please? Because you believe in me, and being alongside you makes me believe that I can do it too. And because I’m your best friend who’s doubting himself?”

“Fuck you.”

He knows it’s a joke when you begrudgingly grab the script he’s offering you, flipping through the pages to mirror the one he’s on.

“You better treat me to so much food after this. I don’t care if it’s the middle of the night.”

“You’re my person, did you know?” A smile pulls at his eyes, pulling you in for an embrace and staying there for a moment. “I know, and you’re mine too. Now shut up so we can get this over with, and you can buy me my food.”

It was only supposed to be a quick run-through of the script, at least you thought it would. And yet two hours later, you’re still standing with him, going through every single detail and aiding him in which emotions would perfectly fit with the dialogue.

Hyunjin’s a perfectionist.

He’s analyzing every body movement, ever line, every intonation in his voice. His overenthusiastic energy and burning passion for his craft masks the concave of your undereye and is enough for you to keep going.

It’s not everyday Hyunjin feels this much inspiration, and you were determined to be there with him through it. You know how hard it is for inspiration and motivation to spark. It’s there, and then it’s not.

But in the moment, inspiration is burning bright and you don’t want it to go away. He doesn’t deserve to feel terrified.

Besides, the part you’re playing and the lines you’re being ordered to say gives you the perfect excuse to look at him a little longer than friends do. It allows you the experience of what it must be like to be in a requited love with the boy. For once, you’re not scared to look at him like you always do when he’s looking away.

You just have to make sure your actual emotions don’t bleed through the character you’re pretending to be.

Hyunjin brings a hand up to his face, dragging his palm down his cheek as he gets deep in thought again — a phenomenon that has been so rampant for the past few hours you’ve been working on the script together. It usually happens in between scenes, when he’s thinking about something. Like how to improve, what to do to make it better, how to connect with the audience.

Fuck, even the sight of his frustration has you thinking, he’s art embodied into a young boy.

“We should do the last part. I think that’s what we’re missing, why the scene feels so… lacking.”

You don’t even have to look at the script to know what he was talking about. It was a stupid idea, and you knew it. It was the one specific part the two of you awkwardly glossed over and skipped while running through the scenes. The thought makes your heartbeat quicken.

All you can do is nod at him. Your voice feels too betraying to attempt to even say anything. You can’t bring yourself to refuse when he’s standing so close to you and he’s licking his lips at the thought of kissing you under the pretense of practicing. It’s not like you haven’t thought about kissing the boy before.

Maybe a kiss would finally help you move on?

(That’s complete bullshit, and you know it.)

“Okay, let’s do this.” He’s smiling a little too happy compared to the smile you’re used to, tossing both of your scripts aside and urging you to get into character.

You fail to hear his heartbeat drumming through his chest and the warmth creeping up from his neck to the tip of his ears and the way he has to bite down at his lips to stop himself from smiling too much.

The scene runs so smoothly between the two of you — the chemistry so clear and undeniable as you spoke each line. When the dreaded “last part” neared, you were sure he would back down last minute due to the awkwardness it might elicit from the two of you.

And yet, he continues, stepping closer.

One step. Then another. He’s grabbing your arm gently to pull you into his chest. A line is spoken, and then another step. His hand finds home in your face rather quickly. The last line. And just like that, he kisses you.

And although the scene called for a short, sweet kiss — his goes on for a while. His lips meet yours in a slow burn of longing, and you can hear your heartbeat pounding through your ears as you kiss him back. His lips are chapped but soft, and the way his hand caresses your cheek takes precedent in your mind.

There’s a sound creeping up from his throat but he forces it down, his other hand finding home on your face so that he’s holding the sides of your head.

A thrill runs down your spine.

“And cut.”

He whispers, looking down at you with the most boyish smile playing on his lips, end of his ears overwhelmingly red as he blinks at you with his glittering eyes and long lashes.

You clear your throat, chuckling nervously at your best friend. You don’t think you can think of proper words especially when you’re still basking in the way his lips felt against yours, so you refrain from talking about it. There hasn’t been a time when your words have ever helped you around the boy, so why should they now?

You know yourself too well to understand this is the perfect moment for you to self-sabotage. You know that if he stares at you for one second longer, you’ll trash the pretty lines written in the script and confess how you’ve loved Hwang Hyunjin for years now, and you don’t think you’ll ever stop loving him.

“Alright, now that that’s done, let’s get the food I was promised?” You smile nervously, breaking eye contact and patting his arm to motion for him to pack up so you can get your snacks.

Although, that’s really the last thing on your mind right now. You’re still stuck on the feeling of his lips pressed against yours and how gentle he held your face and the way he tilted his head to deepen the kiss and the stupid way he looked at you when he pulled away.

“I don’t know… I think we should go through it a couple more times. Practice makes perfect, you were the one who said that, right?”

That night, you kissed each other a total of eight times — all in the excuse of perfecting the scene and establishing the chemistry and relationship of the characters you were ‘playing’. It doesn’t matter that both of your feelings are bleeding through, and each kiss always lasts a little longer after the other, right?

You make plans to come by his house the same time the next day and repeat.

Afterall, practice does make perfect.

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