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pjisskullourful · 3 years

Text

𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓼𝓱𝓮𝓮𝓽𝓼

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

🌼Damiano X reader

part5 of ??? [catchup on:1-4]

NSFW! 🔥 smuttastic kinky swearing depraved filthy smut

° Damiano David X female reader insert

° anon request: i was wondering if you could do a corruption kink fic with damiano and a female reader. & #86 from this list of smut dialogue prompts: "Does it make you nervous when I stare?” [ask & it shall be given- requests are open]

wordcount: 5,878

He was lying on your bed, looking very smug as you sat at your makeup desk, removing the products you had been wearing all night. The yearly office party to celebrate the anniversary of the estate's creation, it had never been a highpoint. But it had been far better having Damiano there with you, to hold your hand, to take dumb photos with in the booth - this was the first time you had ever made use of the plus one on your invitation.

"Does it make you nervous when I stare?" Damiano asked, he must have noticed how quiet you had become, or the blush blossomed on your cheeks was brighter than what you saw in the mirror.

His first interest had been in you pointing out Aileen, the only person in the office you didn't get along with and would often complain to him about. Upon finally spotting her, he grabbed your arm tightly, whispering into your ear that her eyelash extensions were far worse than you had described them. He had been highly amused by this, whispering further to you 'they asked how long she wanted the lashes and she just said yes' - until the two of you were snickering in the corner, like a couple of mean girls.

Your world wasn't anywhere near as exciting as his, but he still showed up. He cared enough about you to listen about your job of making coffees and stapling things for realtors.

"Yes, you know it does." You responded, wiping your eyes clear of the black liner. "That's how all of this got started…"

He sat up, holding a hand out to you. "Don't take that lipstick off yet."

You turned around in your chair. "Oh?"

"Yeah, do you have the actual stick there?" He asked and you looked back to your desk until you were able to locate the correct tube. You held it up for him to see. "Fantastico, bring that over here…" You got up from the seat and he quickly rushed to add another request. "Also, ice, I need ice for my water, like, a lot of it."

You sighed dramatically. "Okay, but… you couldn't get that for yourself when you were getting that glass of water? Since when am I, like, your bringer-girl?"

His eyebrows raised and he took a moment to consider you, head tilting a little. "Okay attitude, I was under the impression you were the sub. And if I remember correctly, which I do, you've been the one calling me Master. So, be a good pet and go get me whatever the fuck I ask you for and count yourself lucky that I don't make you crawl whenever you're in my presence."

You smiled, knowing that there wasn't any real malice behind those words - there never was. He was just playing with you, testing how you would react to a meaner dom. "Yes Master."

You left for the kitchen, wondering what you were going to walk back into, now that you knew he was in a playful mood. You scooped all of the cubed ice from your freezer into a cup to carry with you into the bedroom.

"So, would you?" You asked as you crossed over to the bed.

He looked up at you with a furrowed brow - your question had interrupted him and he stopped drawing on his bare torso with the dark red shade of lipstick. "Would I- what? Do you maybe wanna be a bit less vague?"

"Would you make me crawl anytime I wanted to get to you?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, if you'd be into that. I could get a leash for you and make you crawl around and really make you feel like a pet."

"Right…" With that question answered, you let your eyes move over the small crosses he had drawn onto his skin. "And what's goin' on here Damiano DaVinci?"

"I was just thinking about all the places I wanted you to put your lips, 'cause I wanted that sexy lipstick shade on me. And I figured it couldn't hurt to draw you some targets."

You eyed where his leather pants were still buttoned up tight. "Did you draw-"

"I didn't put your lipstick on my cock." He said, pushing the cap back onto the component. "That's not how I wanted the colour to get there. In that case, I wanted it to come straight from your lips, obviously."

"Obviously." You echoed, taking the tube from his extended hand. "But you missed a few spots. If I could just…"

You straddled him, putting the cup full of ice on the bedside table and opening the lipstick again. You put the lipstick to his pierced nipple, drawing a neat x on this spot. You guided him to look over at the wall and you drew your next target on his neck. You redirected him to look at you again, his smile mirroring your own and you drew two intersecting lines over his lips.

"Perfect." You said and put the makeup aside.

"Why do you still get nervous when I stare?" He asked.

"I just see this look in your eyes and I know that you're planning, 'cause you look at me like you've seen me naked, so you're planning how you can get me naked again." You said and he laughed, hands on your hips. "Like what happened tonight- I'm just waiting to go into the photobooth with my girl Max and I look over and there's you, looking at me with that smile on your face…" You pointed to where a crooked smile was developing on his face. "Yeah, that smile. I know what that smile means. It means trouble, it means hickeys, it means dirty nicknames."

"So presumptuous. For your information- I was just enjoying how cute and at ease you were with all of those people, especially with Max, now I understand why you call her your work wife." He said. "It was very sweet seeing how much they all respect you there. I guess you've got them all fooled, huh?

"Did you hear that old guy's wife talking about your necklace, over when we were waiting for your boss to give that speech?" He asked, lazily running a finger up-and-down your front. "She was sayin' to him that's Chanel, I saw that in the window but I didn't bother telling you that I wanted it 'cause it's so expensive. I doubt she'd think your necklace was so pretty and enviable if she knew all the things you did to earn that designer collar."

You laughed. "It's a good thing that she literally never has to find out."

"That's right, none of them ever have to know what a bad little kitten you are. They can see you in this pretty necklace, but now I want you to take it off and I want you to put on the necklace that only I'm allowed to see you in…"

You put your hands to the nape of your neck and worked open the latch of your collar. The pearl choker was sitting on your bedside table, easily within reach. "Okay, that's cool, I usually put it on to sleep in."

"You think that you're gonna get to sleep anytime soon? Aw, baby, sweet oblivious baby, you're adorable."

You fixed the pearl choker into place, the three strands sitting against your neck. This was your newest gift he had bestowed upon you - it wasn't intended as a reward. This was a toy, a new way to play with you.

You had been perplexed by the jumbo-sized pearl that was an accent at the front of the necklace - until he pointed out that this was a ball-gag. It was merely pretending to be a fancy piece of jewellery. In reality, it was another tool for your corruption.

You had taken the initiative to wear it to bed - snapping a photo for him as you were settling in to sleep, and sending another when you awoke. He was thrilled by how much you were already wearing it. Sometimes he would ask for another photo, one specifically that showed you with the ball in your mouth. He was proud of such a perfect selection, but even more prideful for how well you were taking to this new accessory.

They weren't real pearls - they wouldn't last long under such duress. It was solely for the aesthetic, he loved pearls for the opulence that they could add to any outfit in any situation. They looked so luxurious and classy (even the ones made of plastic). He loved their pure white colour being used in the filthiest context his mind could dream up.

You picked up the necklace, lifting the gag toward your mouth. He grabbed your wrist, stopping you from placing the sphere in your mouth.

"Not yet, keen little kitty. Did you forget about all these targets? Should I have drawn them in a brighter colour?"

"Right." You said. "Sorry Master."

He hooked a finger through the choker and pulled on it, forcing you to lean in closer. "Don't ignore my commands or you'll be doing more than crawl to fetch me ice." Once you were close enough, he whispered into your ear. "I bought that flogger for you for a reason. Don't give me an excuse to break it in on you."

Involuntarily your thighs squeezed tighter around his hips, he knew you wanted that toy - your naive mind had gone straight to spanking when he'd started talking about BDSM with you, that was the darkest flavour you had known.

But he had been holding off from that. He insisted that you needed to dream bigger and he didn't want you to get distracted by something as basic as spanking. That was one of the things he assured you was on his list. But that could wait, there were so many other things he wanted to do to you, he wanted you to experience more.

But then he had put the flogger on your sexy wishlist - after you had purposefully avoided all manner of paddles and whips. You had gotten very excited, especially when he had dropped off a 'box of treats', including the thick leather whip. It was within reach and the anticipation was incredible.

You looked into his eyes, he knew how desperate you were but he was still holding it back from you. You kissed him on the mouth, sucking his bottom lip between both of yours.

You ran your tongue over his lip, applying enough pressure to hopefully remove the stripes of lipstick. When you began to suck on his lip he moaned, arching his back.

You grabbed it with your teeth and started to pull back out of the kiss. He grew louder as you stretched his lip. He made a loud mm of satisfaction when you released it. You saw his eyes darting over your face and his smile grew wider - you had impressed him.

You moved your lips to the x you had drawn on his neck, right over his pulse point. His hands moved to the clasp of your bra, working it open quickly. You alternated between your lips and tongue over this spot, delighted by the way he writhed beneath you.

After this you started to explore some of the marks he had left (you were going to come back to his nipple, that was to be saved). You moved across his collarbones, onto his pectorals, letting your lips linger because you simply couldn’t get enough of his taste.

You worked lower, kissing and licking onto his stomach. You found two marks over the tattoo just above his waistband, blocking some of the letters of mamma mia. You smiled, taking a second to savour this.

You started to undo the fly of his pants. You got them open, just admiring the top of his underwear - black, low on his hips. You looked up to where he was watching you, apparently still possessing some patience. Your lips hadn't done a thorough job of cleaning the makeup off of him, he looked like he'd had a run in with a giant mosquito.

You cast your eyes down, sizing up mamma mia again. His hands gently went to your hair, moving it back from your face and holding it, keeping it from obscuring his view of your activity.

You placed your lips delicately to his hot skin and you immediately heard him draw in a quick breath. His stomach visibly tensed as you kissed him again, this time with more impact, massaging the skin with your lips and letting your mouth open, your tongue briefly touching his skin.

You swiped your tongue along the eight letters, meanwhile putting your hands to his pants, giving them a push. He lifted his hips and you eagerly tugged the leather pants down, exposing more of his inked skin.

Instead of going back to the spot below his belly button, you shifted back up and pushed your tongue out to clean his nipple.

He wrapped his arms around you, fingers stroking at the nape of your neck. "Oh, good girl…"

You sucked the horseshoe ring into your mouth, your tongue teasing at his nipple all the more. Your hands were at the waistband of his underwear, testing at pulling on it and seeing how far you could push them from this angle.

He chuckled and you blinked your eyes open to look up at his face. "Sorry baby, I'm not laughing at you, I promise. I was just thinking, you must have a praise kink." You detached your mouth from him, tilting your head. "I praise you and you get extra into it, you dial up the freaky a bit more."

"Do you like it?" You asked.

"Kitten, I love it." He said. "A submissive without a praise kink - that's not any kind I wanna know." He put his hands to your face and you turned your head to kiss his thumb. "That's not the kind of sub I wanna buy gifts for." You sucked his thumb between your lips. "You're the only one for me."

You smiled. "I feel the same way, Daddy."

"How about you be a really good girl, a good little toy - and put your lipstick on my cock, like I've been waiting for."

You nodded and scooted down, securing your hands around his underwear, not intending to let them stay in place for even a second longer. You pulled at the fabric, pulling them free of his body and finally getting him naked.

He was already so hard, just waiting for some relief.

"Okay, there's just one more spot that needs some lipstick on it. If I could just…"

He looked at you, eyes narrowed as he thought over this proposal. "Alright, but if it's more than one- I will not be very happy. And you'll have to work pretty hard to get any more praise from me."

"Yes, Daddy." You were smiling to yourself, certain that he wouldn't be unhappy with you for long.

You rubbed down his back until your hand came to his ass. You saw how closely he was watching you before you lowered your eyes and opened your mouth.

You began with your teeth, grazing them over the taut flesh on his thigh, then bringing your lips to the skin. You applied more moisture to this area, running your tongue along his skin. Then you created suction with your lips, sucking what you could into your mouth for further ravishing.

"Easy on the merchandise, baby." He said as you alternated between your lips and teeth, aiming to leave more than just lipstick on the side of his ass - you wanted to give him something that wouldn't come off in the shower.

You sighed, unwilling to release him just yet, enjoying playing with this part of him far too much. You reached your hand up, gently stroking his stomach, letting your fingers wander aimlessly for a few moments, playing with where his pubic hair began. You traced your fingertips across where you had memorised the placement of all of his tattoos.

You moved your hand down, wrapping your fingers around his awaiting cock. You felt his thigh-muscle tense harder than before between your teeth.

You relaxed your mouth, admiring the pink patch that was already blossoming on his thigh. You licked your lips and started to move your hand on his dick, lazily trying at finding his correct rhythm. You hovered over it, poised to take him into your mouth, but giving him a bit more of a working over first.

Looking up, you saw that his eyes were shut as you stroked his length - slowly, your intention was to build more, you wanted his climax to be an event. You wanted to cripple him and leave him without a single desire unfulfilled.

You put your lips to his wet tip, not allowing any of him to pass by your lips just yet. You held your shut mouth here, letting him feel your warmth as you continued your leisurely pace.

"I'd hate to make you nervous, kitten. But I can't help staring at you right now."

You looked up at him, letting his dick pull your bottom lip down a bit. "Do I look nervous?"

Before he could answer (because he always had something to say back), you secured your lips around his tip and pushed down.

"Oh fuck, good girl- yes, what a good little fucktoy."

You slid your tongue down his underside, sucking a bit harder. You didn't mind being predictable and proving his theory of your praise kink to be correct. Every word of affirmation made you more invested, inspired you to see what fun could be drawn from his body next because it was all for you.

His hips suddenly bucked up, on the verge of throwing you off. Then he laid back down, his hands curled into fists and you could tell that he was trying to hold back, to make you work harder and to stretch this time of you taking care of the needs of his depraved body.

"Uh- ah, fuck. Good kitty, yes." He groaned as you moved your hand up-and-down his cock. "Do you like being a good kitten?"

You increased your pacing on his shaft, keeping your mouth steady, your tongue working to pull more out of him. You looked up at him, blinking. You met his eyes and hoped he knew you well enough to be able to guess what you were thinking.

You brought your hand to a still, instead letting your mouth take the lead. You moved your lips slightly lower, rubbing the flat of your tongue over his tip. You could see his eyes failing to focus as his jaw clenched, then relaxed before clenching again.

You kept your lips secured over him as you started to move your hand again, faster than before. His struggle for breath got louder and you could feel tremors running through his legs. You shut your eyes, letting his sounds (so secret, so wild, so just for you) guide you.

A prick of cold startled you, creating a sting between your shoulder blades. You flinched, mouth leaving him. You looked up, seeing a grin on his face, as he held his fingers up by his mouth.

His other hand was on your back, where the cold was springing from. Your mouth hanging open in shock, you realised he was holding something up by his mouth.

The glass full of ice cubes - you realised.

One playing on his lips and another melting against your skin.

"What are-"

"I don't like you not answering me." He said, sitting up a bit and you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. He let the ice on your back go, sliding down and leaving a frosty trail on your spine. "You must answer me." He hooked his fingers through your choker and you eased yourself up. "So, tell me…" He deposited his ice cube into his mouth. "How do you like it, do you wanna be a bad kitten or a good toy?"

You repositioned yourself, sitting up and settling with your chest against his. "Why can't I…" You gasped in response to the chill from his lips on your shoulder. "Why can't I be both?"

He just looked at you, his nostrils flared. He seemed on the verge of saying something. But then he lifted the plastic pearls, running their smooth surface up your chin. You opened your mouth and allowed the gag to be placed between your lips. He adjusted the necklace, bringing the latch at the back to a tighter setting, until the pearls were resting against your cheeks, across your jaw and up into your hairline. He took his time with this task, looking into your eyes to assess your comfort level. He played with your hair for a moment, letting you adjust to this new object forcing your mouth open.

You were giving him as many silent signals as you could. He moved his hands to your wrists, guiding your arms until your hands were behind your back, then he crossed one wrist over the other. He gave your hands one firm squeeze and you understood that you would be expected to keep your hands in this position. Your need for his praise was stronger than any binding he could put around your wrists.

Your chest heaved over shallow breaths as you watched him reach for the glass of ice again. He popped a new cube into his mouth, which was still bearing the overzealous marks of your lipstick.

He bowed his head down to your chest, mouth going to your nipple. His lips were cool, but didn't provide you with enough warning for how it would feel when he opened his mouth and used his tongue to apply the ice directly onto your sensitive peak.

You flinched, the sensation was like a bolt of lightning directly to your core. It disorientated you and made your heart stop for a second. The sound that you made couldn't be fully muffled by the pearl gag, instead it came out as a wordless whine. Beads of saliva gathered at the corners of your mouth.

A combination of his lips, the remorseless ice and his tongue - it left you weak. Your whole body shivered.

You mewed like a wounded cat when his mouth laid into your other nipple. It was just as cold, just as shocking. You curled your hands into tight fists, pressing your nails into the soft palms and letting this extra sting bring attention to your already fraying nerves.

Your nipples were throbbing with this rapid blood flow by the time he moved lower than the swell of your chest. Expectantly, he was looking up at you and you struggled to draw in enough air to fill your lungs. Then you nodded and he returned his mouth to your skin, kissing along your midsection.

He pressed kisses down your front, easing you back to lying on the mattress. You were savouring the feel of his warm lips. He worked his way down until his lips were caressing onto your pubic mound.

With your arms pinned behind your back, you waited. You heard the rattle of the ice moving around in the glass. You wanted to bite your lip, they were trembling, becoming slicker with your spit.

Then your thighs spasmed and shuddered as he placed an ice cube on each leg. Starting by your knees, he worked down your inner thighs and your nerves danced, so powerfully alive with excitement. You felt the ice melting, cold water racing down, pooling in the creases that framed your pussy.

He ran the ice up-and-down, drawing squiggles and gentle spirals. Going and going until you were feeling his fingers, the ice melted away.

"You still liking that new necklace?" He asked, hands massaging your legs.

You nodded your head enthusiastically as he guided your legs over his lap, making enough room for him. "Yeah, I like it too. It makes me crazy how good you look. In fact…" He paused and reached over to the bedside table.

Your polaroid camera was held up for you to see. "May I? Just a polaroid, never on my phone, and only if you're comfortable with that."

You started to nod again. "You don't have to say yes. I can just commit it to my memory."

You nodded harder, making some sounds that you hoped he only heard as affirmations. He smiled and you pushed your tongue against the gag, a substitute for putting it on him as you were desperate to do.

"Thank you kitten."

His face disappeared behind the bulky camera. You were entirely exposed to him, your trust sitting in the palm of his hand. You shut your eyes, unable to fall back on any familiar poses.

You heard the snap of the shutter. "Wow. Oh wow, that's a work of art. You don't even know how gorgeous you are, how addictive your body is. God, I'm so in love with you."

You wanted to respond, you wiggled one of your arms free. You curled down your middle and fourth fingers, showing him the one bit of sign language that you knew- I love you.

He took one last look at the small picture, purring as he put the camera and photo aside. "I'm gonna get you to put a cute little lipstick kiss print on that later, much more intimate than a signature.

"You want it, huh?" He licked his lips as he looked down at you. You were struggling to stay still and the arm that remained trapped beneath you was beginning to cramp. "Little kitty is tired of behaving, isn't she?"

You nodded again. "But you've done a really great job of it, you know that? You're a good, good kitten and I mean it.

"But now, I'm gonna fuck you like the filthy fucktoy that you really are, that I know you are, deep deep down." He said and you felt flutterings in your pussy as his dick came into contact with this area.

"Is that what you want?" Your breathing stalled when his cock stroked over your folds, not letting you experience any penetration. Instead you were only able to feel its warmth and how hard he was.

You nodded your head, unable to hold back a whimper. His movements were so perfectly controlled, his tip working apart your folds to rub across your clitoris. This was in direct opposition to how absolutely wild and desperate you felt. A whine got stuck in your throat as your clit quivered and twitched in response to the exploration of his dick. The pressure was glorious and you tilted your hips, trying to coat more of him in your arousal.

He was moving agonizingly slow, drawing out deep cravings as he seemed to test your sensitivities. Saliva was now dripping down your chin. You put your freed hand to your forehead, feeling so much heat under your skin. You arched your back, your body eagerly trying to drag itself towards release. But he wouldn’t let you feel penetration, still quite content on warming himself on your wet exterior.

He grabbed your other arm and pulled it out from beneath you. As soon as it was released, you put this hand over your face as well, elbows trembling. Your body clenched as you felt his cock rubbing against you, promising your core what it needed - but it was still not deep enough.

"Roll over kitty."

You rolled onto your chest, repositioning to brace yourself up on your knees. You planted your face into the sheets, smelling the musk of sweat. You arched your back, unable to feel the warmth of his skin - you wanted anything right now, you would have accepted more of the ice.

The anticipation was still prickling across your skin, but you were finally able to silence yourself. You wanted to say something to him, an unshared Daddy clenched in your throat.

"Naughty little toy, aren't you? All I said was roll over but you're already presenting, you must be really desperate for my cock, huh? You look desperate…"

You strained out a 'mm-hmm' around the pearl and you were rewarded by the feeling of his hands pushing your thighs further apart. You felt so much heat that your pussy was practically dripping as it gripped around nothing. His hand began at the small of your back, running up until he came to the back of your head. He kept this hand on you, using a little pressure to keep you down.

Your whine was barely contained as he finally filled you, your cunt stretching to greedily welcome him in. There was no resistance, it was all so effortless as you felt him the way you had been waiting so long for.

You continued your begging groans, feeling his length massaging you and all of your quivering parts. It was so slow and he wasn’t deep enough. This pacing was restrained, as if he thought there was still work he needed to do, as if he wasn’t aware of how close to the precipice you were, as if he couldn’t feel how wet and tight your hole was.

You reached your arms out, hands grabbing the bed sheets above and gripping them as you fought back against your urges to rebel. Your mind raced with all of the ways that you could disobey his authority and get yourself to the climax you were dying for. Your unbound hands could easily unlatch the back of the choker and you could be free of the ball-gag. You could then roll onto your back and gain the angle you needed to ride him to completion. This change in position would take less than a minute, and then you could look in his eyes as you broke.

For the moment you could hold that impulse back, continuing to prioritise being good for him. You whined into the pearl and tried to recall the taste of his dick. You pushed into him, trying to inspire him into a quicker rhythm. The sound of your skin slapping into his was drowned out by the ragged grunts coming from your throat.

"Oh, we are greedy tonight, aren't we kitty?"

"Nugh…" You groaned out a wordless mess. Your lips were aching to be screaming his name, to find the right word to get him to unleash upon you.

He twisted his hand into your hair, employing an immediately forceful grip. "Naughty toy really wants to come."

You felt your eyes rolling back as you stretched to bring him in deeper, where you cunt needed to feel him. Drool flew from your mouth and you moaned endlessly.

He tugged on your hair, yanking your head back and pulling you up from the bed. All of the breath was knocked from your body when he wrapped an arm around your middle, holding you tight to him.

"You've done so well, kitty. No one takes it better than you." He said, his tone inconsistent as he faced the onslaught of his orgasm.

You looked back at him, ignoring the strain on your neck that this caused. His eyes were fixed on you, watching each reaction and you wanted to give him more. You wanted to give him the show he deserved, the show he had been working you up to.

"You're amazing, do you feel amazing?"

You nodded, almost ruined by a tremor when his hand cupped your cunt. Your drool was trickling down from your jaw, dripping onto your chest and it felt like there wasn't a single nerve that he didn't have command over.

"You've made Daddy very happy." He said, lips at your temple and making you feel strong quivers all over your body.

You grabbed his arm with both hands, nails ready to set in as the pleasure grew stronger, so ready to drag you under. You screamed out, an incoherent plea, when he put his finger between your folds. Your clit didn't require any further stimulation, it was enough to just pulse against the warmth of his fingerpad. This shadow of pressure was enough to make your whole body stiffen, your cunt clenching upon him harder than before.

"I want you to make a big mess on me, okay?" He said and put his finger beneath your chin, redirecting you so that your face could be viewed by him again - it wasn't enough to just hear and feel you, he had to watch, he had to see just how deep the corruption ran.

"I want you to ruin these fuckin' sheets, can you do that for me?" You nodded your head, but then he grabbed your cheek before you could give into your weakness and let your head drop. "But you have to look at me. Don't disappoint me now…"

You felt a new wave of pleasure, promising to make you complete when he hit into your deepest point. You tilted your hips, letting his thrusts stroke along your g-spot as he worked you faster than ever. You wanted to swear and scream, writhing against him.

He controlled you, powering through all of your desperate jerking. Your noises were inhuman, reflecting the primal urges that had overtaken you.

You felt the tremors winning out and your body surrendered. You couldn't keep your eyes open as the excitement flooded out, the best that you could manage was to keep your face directed at his.

His breathing started to fail him and you felt him falling out of his rhythm. You were bathing in the beauty of your afterglow, listening as he swore and moaned.

You ached and throbbed as his body slumped against yours, his heavy exhales painted with the sounds of a smile.

"Yes, fuck… uh..."

You felt the necklace release from the back of your neck and you instantly spat the ball out. Your chest heaved in greedy breaths as you let yourself fall away from him, landing on a wet part of the bed but not caring.

"Good girl, good kitty, fuck…" He said soothingly, a hand rubbing up your back. "How do you feel?"

You slowly rolled over onto your back, there was a daze on his face and you could see that he was shaking a little. You pulled your tired cheeks into a smile when you saw his mouth, and parts of his chest, were still stamped with the red of your lipstick.

"Thank you." You said softly.

He picked your hand up, so gentle as he pressed a kiss to each of your fingertips. "That doesn't answer my question."

"I know, but I-... You're so good to me, you let me come and every time it's so incredible. You treat me so right, you're so generous. I love being yours."

He smiled and leant down, lips almost at yours. He put his hand to your throat, flexing his fingers and letting you feel the threat. "I won't always be so generous…"

If you like my writing, feel free to tip me. I am open to both commissions & requests, commissions get priority & the most input

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readmore of this series

#dom dami corruption fic #corruption kink fic #damiano david fic #maneskin smut #månesmut #damiano david/you #anon request #damiano x reader #damiano david x reader #damiano x you #manesmut #maneskin x reader #maneskin fanfiction #stainedsheets

136 notes · View notes

mikalara-dracula · 3 years

Note

Ahh I saw the “where they bite their S/O” thing you did and wanted to ask, could you do one for Reiji, Yuma, and Shu 👉🏻👈🏻🥺

Where they like to bite their s/o

Ft. Reiji, Yuma and Shu

Hi there, Anon!

Thank you for requesting! Hope you enjoy reading it! Feel free to request again anytime. :))

@liannelara-dracula - Bestie, I had so much fun writing this with you. Yuma's kills me honestly xDD.

Reiji:

Reiji isn’t open to doing this in front of others.

But when alone, he is more prone to doing such things with you.

Loves it when you s l o w l y slip off his glasses when he’s biting you.

Seriously, it turns him on xDD

Reiji lives for the thrill of surprising you at any given moment.

So, you don’t ever expect him to bite you because he’s always doing something different.

That’s how this mf creeps up on you.

He also likes to do this because he gets to witness your shocked expression.

Plus, he loves it most when your mouth is agape because of what he’s doing to you.

For example, if you’re organizing a few papers and wearing a top that exposes your back, he’ll come up behind you unexpectedly.

He’d then whisper in your ear at first before biting the nape of your neck and travel down to your shoulder blade area.

If you accidentally injure yourself enough to have you bleed over something minor--like a papercut, for instance--he can’t help but get thirsty.

So, as much as he likes to remain poised and get you a bandaid, he’s so tempted to lick your wound and have a drink.

Other times if you’re wearing an off-the-shoulder dress or top, he’ll back you up into his bookshelf before roughly pulling down the fabric to bite your shoulders.

And if you thought that wasn’t enough, he always grazes his teeth on your skin to tease you with his fangs.

With this, you never know when he’s going to bite down.

Being Rei’s bae obviously means you’re elegant and because of that you might be the type of person who wears skirts and high heels.

Which gives him easy access to your calves and ankles.

One time, after you both came home you sat on the foot of the bed to remove your shoes.

And of course with Reiji being the type to admire your movements when taking them off, he just couldn’t sit there.

So that time he decided to help. He came towards you only to crouch down and hold your ankle but you gave him a confused look.

“Let me help you.” He’d grin whilst caressing your calves and slowly slipping off your heel.

His hands would continue to trail back up to your calves teasingly only for him to lean in and bite your ankle.

Of course, you’re caught off guard which only fuels Reiji to continue and bite your calve.

“You really never catch on to what I’m about to do. I think it should be obvious but it would appear that it’s not . . . . But I think I like it best when you don’t comprehend quickly.”

Yuma:

Oh. My. God. This man will bite you just about anytime anywhere and in front of anyone (as long as they’re vampires, of course).

I mean, we all know what he did to Yui.

But anyways, when it comes to this, he likes backing you into a wall and having full access.

He likes things to be rough, so he likes pinning your arms against the wall and drinking from your forearms whilst they’re pinned.

He’d even pin you on the bed and do this.

Loves the feeling of you pulling his hair while he’s drinking, it really spikes up his mood.

When he is sucking your blood, he will slightly jerk your body to bring you to moan or whimper from the pain you’re feeling.

He groans a lot while biting you and you honestly just have to hope no one gets the wrong idea.

You can feel him smirk when he’s biting you.

Like, you just know that.

He really likes it when you're busy doing something so he can catch you off guard by biting you.

Like one time, you were in the kitchen being busy when he made you bump into him. You gave him a little smile before moving to get your other ingredients but he just blocked your path.

“Yuma?” You’d question, as he continued to block your path.

“What are you doing, little pig?” He’d smirk before setting you on the kitchen counter as he’d pull your sweater down to your shoulders just to bite your neck whilst his hands would move up your skirt and squeeze your thighs.

Yuma also likes to give you hickies but will surprise you by biting you.

Especially likes it if you wear low-cut tops or ones that reveal the upper part of the body since he likes to bite the shoulders and nape.

Likes to clutch the back of your thigh, and bring it up to his side whilst drinking from your collarbone.

If Yuma wants to be a little more scandalous, he likes to mark your upper outer thigh, and won’t hesitate to clutch your ass while doing so.

This motha-

Occasionally likes biting your lips, which gives him the excuse to place his lips on yours and have them remain there for a bit more time.

Sometimes when biting you he’s able to do this out of context.

Like if he’s carrying you--since he likes to do that--he’ll bite your neck and make the excuse that he’s thirsty since he’s been walking and carrying you for so long.

“Give me a break, I needed it.”

“You had it before we even left.”

“So, I need it to carry around my little pig.”

“Are you calling me fat?”

“Don’t ask me that question when you know there’s not enough here.” He’d say clutching your ass xDD.

He does a lot of things that hurt a bit to get you to whine since it turns him on.

When he’s done biting you though, he gives you a sugar cube to replenish yourself from the blood loss.

But of course, he likes to give it to you mouth-to-mouth just to steal a kiss from you.

“A kiss from me will do more than that sugar cube, little pig.”

Shu:

Since he’s quite lazy, he prefers to bite you when he’s either sitting or laying down beside you.

If you’re sitting beside him and he wants a taste, he’d lazily lay his head on your shoulder, his blonde hair tickling your skin as he’d crane his neck and bite your collarbone.

If you’re laying down beside him, it gives him easy access to bite you.

Prefers to pull you into him and roll on top of you so you can’t leave, having an arm wrapped around your waist whilst he’d sink his fangs into your chest area.

If he’s resting his head in your lap, he won’t refuse the idea of adjusting himself and taking a bite of your thighs.

However, if--on occasion, of course--he’s feeling a bit more energetic--and if he’s already standing--he likes to back you up into a wall, his shoulders enclosing any potential escape route as he’d place a leg between yours and sink his fangs into your upper arm.

Likes biting you in the stairwells at school when everyone’s in class, having you sit in between his legs and having an arm wrapped around your waist, leading you to rest into him while he takes a taste of your neck or nape.

With this, he likes to have you miss class or make you late.

He finds it amusing and hopes that people take note of the marks he left if you end up going to class after he’s done.

Likes to make bets with you or trick you into getting bitten.

That motha-

He enjoys being in the music room with you so he can either sleep or play the violin.

Likes to teach you violin, but this comes at a price.

For every mistake you make when playing it, he gets to choose where to bite and draw blood from.

Even if you don’t mess up, he’ll make you mess up by knocking something over while you’re playing just to throw you off guard.

He would then deny that he’d done it when you’d accuse him of making you mess up and that it doesn’t count, but he'd only deny and pin you down on a nearby piano bench and bite down on the curve of your waistline, then going to taste your wrists and fingers.

Loves teasing you and getting you to admit your desires when he bites you.

It’s literal music to his ears.

“Huh, your skin tenses up when I put my mouth on you. Just admit that I’m that satisfying to your body.”

#diabolik lovers #diabolik lovers headcanons #reiji sakamaki #yuma mukami #shu sakamaki

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blushnote · 3 years

Text

↳ requested | 1.6k words

↳ dom!wonwoo smut

a/n: HELLO. i’m sure everyone is wondering what’s going on and WHY i’ve been absent for a few months. put simply: things got hectic and i needed a break! i’m not saying i’ll jump back into being completely active again, but that i’m going to come on as often as i can! (which might be every few days or so! i apologize!!)

as a treat for everyone - this features rich girl wonwoo! <3

wonwoo stands at the street pole, conversing with his friends. the bar is unusually crowded. mostly likely because it’s a friday and there isn’t much else the townspeople would rather do than get plastered, forgetting the atrocities of work. his friend extends a box of cigarettes to wonwoo, offers him one, but he shakes his head.

since getting involved with you, wonwoo has attempted to forfeit smoking. it has always been something he’s done to pass the time at the street corner. plus, he likes the idea of blowing a big, stinging cloud right into someone’s face when they give him attitude.

instead wonwoo suckles on a lollipop that tastes like an artificially sweet strawberry, pushes up the bridge of his glasses, and folds some silvery hair under his beanie. he knows it’s about the right time for you to be returning from that dinner party your parents forced you into attending.

as wonwoo’s friend exaggerates a tale about getting into a fist-driven confrontation at a bus stop last week, someone strutting by on the packed street bumps wonwoo’s shoulder.

“choose a better place to stand.” the stranger rumbles, agitated.

wonwoo flicks up his middle finger indifferently. “fuck off.” he grunts, the fog of his breath appearing in the night air.

he’s feeling sort of agitated himself. your parents have tethered you to a leash lately, forcing you to all these fancy gatherings and opening ceremonies and dinners. to put it frankly – wonwoo misses you. your laugh, your eyes, the texture of your skin, your voice in his ear. he’s been wanting an excuse to get his hands all over you. every single inch.

that’s when he hears the ding in his jacket pocket. looking away from the dramatic enactment involving his friend driving a fist into his palm, wonwoo checks his phone to see a text from you. a series of images.

23:28 // JPEG.1034

23:28 // JPEG.1035

23:28 // JPEG. 1036

the three pictures load. he chokes on his breath.

23:28 // i know u don’t like when i spoil my lingerie but.

23:28 // don’t i look so cute :( so fuckable?? im srry but I had to :(

his teeth crack the strawberry lollipop into sugary shards in his mouth. that lace is squeezing your flesh in all the right places. the picture with your fingers splayed teasingly over your underwear, hiding your core, it’s enough to make him shudder, salivate even. he’s officially ignoring his friend’s story by tapping a reply, fiddling with the thin stick in his mouth.

(ww) 23:30 // u free now? head to my place.

he receives an answer immediately.

23:30 // hmmm why?

(ww) 23:30 // u know why. don’t act like such a brat.

already, wonwoo can sense the desire form inside him. pounding almost. like a second heartbeat. you’re usually compliant and bending to his carnal whims. maybe all this time away from each other has you forgetting just how well wonwoo can fuck that stubbornness out.

23:30 // it’s new. i don’t want u ripping anything!!

(ww) 23:30 // idc.

23:30 // so mean!! not even gonna let u touch me now :-)

(ww) 23:30 // yeah. ok. we’ll see about it then.

after sliding his phone back in his pocket, wonwoo glances briefly in through the bar window. he sees a bartender pour a glass full of ice cubes before sloshing in a surge of alcohol. at that, wonwoo gets an idea. when his friends question about why he’s leaving so suddenly, he smirks.

“need to teach someone how to behave.” wonwoo shrugs before jogging quickly across the street.

“i’m not gonna tell you again. keep your fuckin’ thighs spread nice and wide for me or else i won’t let you cum – not even once. you understand?”

a harsh dip in your stomach suggests the breath you just inhaled. after a moment of silence, he hears you comply, and watches with his hungry, intent gaze as your legs part open for him. wonwoo has been teasing you with a bowl of ice cubes. at first, he held them to your nipples, had you whimpering into his mouth while he simultaneously rubbed his tongue against yours. but the real fun began when he introduced the ice cubes to your lower region. it was a very different punishment compared to his past endeavours, a tantalizing one.

wonwoo returns the cube to the nook of your inner thigh, then creeps it slowly toward your core. you’re beginning to tremble with the restraint required to not snap your legs shut. the ice cube ghosts transiently up your slit, a contact you had yet to experience, and a beautiful gasp tears from your lungs. he swears that you leak even more onto the sheets.

he takes the cube away, then drags his warm tongue from the bottom of your pussy right to the top, delivering a slow, flat lick which tastes sweet and cold and makes him so unbelievably dizzy with how much he loves it.

“w-wonwoo, please, pl-please keep going.” you stutter, opening your thighs even wider to invite his tongue.

he shakes his head. “what else did i tell you? don’t ask me to do anything. you’ll lie there and you’ll fuckin’ take it.” smiling, wonwoo issues a tight grip on the ice cube and presses it right into your clit. you whine sharp and loud, your hands traveling all over your body in confusion, not sure if it’s more pleasure than pain, or a hot mix of both.

“or are you still interested in acting like such a brat, hm?” wonwoo utters in his deep voice. “ like a smug little princess who thinks she can tease me whenever she wants and she’ll still get my cock all the way inside her? nice and full, just how she likes it. is that it, babygirl?”

he feels the ice melt under his fingers. you can hardly piece together a response, just a very incoherent, “no wonwoo” as tears start slipping down your cheeks. wonwoo takes the cube away, then massages your clit with his thumb, warming you up slowly. a few jolts pass through your body. he can tell you’re falling apart inside with how badly you want to cum, though wonwoo had strictly told you to hold it. he rubs and rubs and rubs, barking at you to control yourself, your pussy so slippery with arousal that it’s running all down your skin and wetting the bed.

right when he feels you’re about to snap, wonwoo completely removes his touch. you wail at that, suckle in a shaky breath and cry his name.

“please, wonwoo! i-i’m sorry, m’soso sorry! i’m sorry for acting so bratty and sending those pictures, t-teasing you like that! but i just c-ccan’t take this anymore. treat me however you want, but please let me cum!”

he’s truly missed the sound of you begging for him. his cock twitches in his pants, reminding him of how hard he currently is. each time you cry the boy’s name in such a lewd manner, there’s another surge of pleasure and he aches even more, to the point where he could cum just from touching himself over his clothes. still, wonwoo must ensure you’ve really learned your lesson. so, he offers you a deal. he’ll get to watch you pleasure yourself with the ice cube until he cums.

and so wonwoo sits in a chair based at the end of the bed, a hand stuffed down his pants, watching you swirl an ice cube at your sensitive core. he guides you every now and then: “hold it right there, pretty baby. let it melt all the way down. that’s it, sweetheart. n-now rub it, okay? f-finger yourself too. nnrgh, f-fuck. fuck you sound so wet. m’gonna c-cum—”

his strokes lash faster until wonwoo’s head rolls back against the chair, his eyes blinking shut while he chases his high. he hears you continue to whine as he cums, his cock throbbing in his hand, still so hard and heavy. in fact, wonwoo requires a moment just to breathe and let the heat circulate properly through his body.

with his fingers covered in the sticky mess of his cum, wonwoo approaches the bed again, fingering it as deep as he can inside you. he’s unable to remove his gaze from the filthy sight. there’s something so raw and intimate about watching his own seed getting pumped into you that sets his whole body aflame. he decides to let you orgasm as well, stimulating your g-spot consistently, letting you clamp down tight and ride his hand until you’ve got a full fix.

wonwoo supposes he’s done his job.

“i don’t think i’ll ever be able to look at an ice cube the same way again.” you laugh, sitting back against the headboard, tucked into his t-shirt.

drawing a warm washcloth between your thighs, wonwoo blinks at you, a very sly grin forming on his mouth. he plants a kiss on your nose.

“good. means it worked.” the boy says.

he folds the cloth over and finishes the last of his cleaning, ensuring there’s nothing more of his fluids that are still leaking out or anything sticking from your orgasm. grabbing your overnight bag off the floor, wonwoo pulls out a fresh pair of underwear and helps you slide into them. your lingerie sits in a pile off to the side, a few lace straps ripped.

“sorry about your little outfit.” wonwoo apologizes, staring at you earnestly. “it was pretty. you look good in everything.” he squeezes your hip and presses a soft kiss to your lips.

“it’s okay.” you murmur. “i’ll order something even better. and i’ll surprise you with it. maybe for your birthday. sound good?”

“mmhm.” wonwoo purrs, pulling you down with him to cuddle up close for the night.

“as long as i can take it off you, sweetheart, i’m fine with that.”

#seventeen smut #wonwoo smut #svt smut #jeon wonwoo #seventeen scenarios #wonwoo scenarios #svt fanfic #wonwoo fanfic #svt x reader #wonwoo x reader

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study-coffee-chicago · 3 years

Text

Royalty AU Part 2 (An Upstead + Upton Sister imagine) {Part of AU-gust}

A/N: Thank you for reading! Please remember to like/reblog, comment, and send me asks! Here's the link to the playlist I listened to while writing in case you want to listen to while reading (not my playlist): royalty au that is not just waltzing.

masterlist

"I don't even understand why I have to do this in the first place," sixteen-year-old Harper complained to her older sister, Princess Hailey Upton-Halstead, and her brother-in-law, Prince Jay Halstead.

"We've gone over this," Hailey groaned.

"Yeah? Well, do it again. Because I seriously don't see the point in dancing with a ton of strangers and trying to find a suitor. You expect me to choose who I'm going to marry in one night after one dance? I don't even like dancing."

"Well, pretend anyway!" Jay snapped.

Harper rolled her eyes. "And who do you think you are? My father?" she sneered.

"Hey!" Hailey yelled. "You do not talk to him like that! He and Will are more like fathers to you than our actual father, so I suggest you show Jay here some respect!"

"Ugh!" Harper yelled and stalked off outside into the spring air.

Then, she made her way out to the stables. She walked in and she made a beeline to her horse, Blue. Jay had taught Hailey how to ride this exact horse and after she and Harper officially moved in, Jay took some time to teach Harper how to ride as well. Blue quickly took a liking to the then six-year-old as she always fed him blueberries because Harper said that Blue needs blueberries and Jay couldn't tell her no. So, she fed him and brushed him and gave him all the attention in the world, so eventually, he just became her horse.

She opened the stall door and sat on a bale of hay, right next to Blue. He nudged her arm.

"I know," she said. "I'm sorry, but I don't have any treats for you right now. Jay and Hailey told me that I can't get dirty so I can't ride you right now either." He nudged her again. "How rude of them, I agree." She sighed. "It's just ridiculous, Blue. I'm not even a princess, I don't know why they're doing this. I'm not Hailey's and Jay's child, even though they treat me like a child most of the time, and I didn't marry a prince. Therefore, I'm not a princess. So why do I have to go to this stupid ball to find someone to marry who I won't even love in the first place?"

Blue's ears perked up and he looked up. So, Harper followed his gaze. And, she saw Jay standing there, outside of Blue's stall, with a few sugar cubes in his hand.

"Can I come in?" he asked. "I'm pretty sure Blue would be quite mad if he saw the sugar cubes and didn't get them."

Harper nodded her head once and he opened the stall door and then closed it. But, she wasn't going to talk to him.

He set his palm flat and allowed Blue to start eating the sugar cubes. Harper rested her elbow on her knee and put her head in her hand, just waiting for Jay to leave.

"You know, there will be other balls besides this one," he said.

"I have to do more of these?" she whined.

Jay chuckled. "Well, yeah. Me and your sister don't expect you to find your perfect match after one dance. Just have some potential suitors open. And then, there will be more balls, and when you find someone you like, more balls after that with the main event being you and him."

"I just don't get it," Harper stated. "I'm not a princess in the first place. And, our neighboring kingdom is on the brink of war and you want me to focus on a damn ball? For crying out loud, the Severides don't like our rule and for all we know, rebels have invaded their kingdom and taken them over! And, since they don't like us, the Severides and rebels could be allies and be trying to infiltrate us."

"Listen," Jay started after Blue finished the sugar cubes. He motioned to the hay bale right next to Harper. "Can I sit?"

"I guess," she huffed and crossed her arms across her chest.

Jay sighed. "Listen, Harper. You say you're not a princess, but you are."

"No, I'm not! You know this!"

"Me and your sister aren't going to have any kids, Harper. After everything you both went through with your father, Hailey doesn't want kids in the slightest. And, I'm respecting her wishes. So, I'll take over for Will when he's done ruling. But, after that, I've named you as my heir."

"W-What? But legally, I can't."

Jay shook his head. "Harper, I'm a royal. I can make whatever rules I want. Hailey and I were going to tell you together after the ball, but seeing as you aren't a big fan of it, we've decided to tell you now."

"What does this mean?" she asked. "I have to marry a prince? I can't marry a commoner if I happen to meet one?"

"No, no it doesn't mean that at all. It just means to be smart with your decision. And, well, if you see Blake at the dance, don't shy away from him."

"Jay," she groaned.

"Hey, it's up to you, but bringing two kingdoms together would be a plus...even if they aren't really on our good side right now."

Jay looked down at his watch.

"I need to go, don't I?" Harper asked as she looked down.

"Yeah, you should probably start getting ready. Are you nervous?"

"I mean, now that it's finally becoming real and I actually have to go, I guess I am a little nervous. What if I fall or mess up during a dance?"

"Harper, we've practiced these dances since you were seven. You'll do fine."

"When do I get to dance?" seven-year-old Harper asked sweetly as she walked into the ballroom where Hailey and Jay were practicing the dance that they had to do for their wedding.

"God, Jay," Will said as he entered, not noticing little Harper. "You're terrible at leading. Maybe Hailey should lead instead. You're sh--"

Hailey cut him off by coughing and subtly pointing at Harper.

"--you're not very good at it," Will said.

"Says the man who hasn't even gotten married yet," Jay scoffed.

"I can do it!" Harper exclaimed. "I can dance, too!"

Will smiled down at her. "I'm sure you can. But, this is big kid dancing."

"B-But I am a big girl," Harper said as her bottle lip began to wobble. "Hailey said so."

"Harps, do you want to dance with me?" Hailey asked as she let go of Jay's hands and made her way over to her little sister.

"Can I?" she asked timidly.

Hailey smiled. "Of course you can. And, maybe while we're dancing together, Will can help Jay learn how to lead a little bit better." She threw a wink her future husband's way and Jay threw his arms up in exasperation. Will just held back his laughter.

Harper grabbed Hailey's hands and the two sisters began dancing together.

"May I cut in?" Jay asked and offered his arm to Harper. She giggled and nodded and then the two of them danced. Then, Will took over dancing with Harper so that Jay could practice with Hailey again.

"Between all the times I danced with Will when you and Hailey were practicing for things, I barely had to practice for my first ball," Harper joked.

"But now everyone's eyes will be on you and not me and Hailey," Jay pointed out.

Blue let out a neigh. "I know, Blue," Harper said and stroked her horse. "You tell him. That didn't help at all."

"Sorry." Then, Jay held his hand out to the girl who he viewed as his little sister. "Ready?" he asked as she took his hand.

"As I'll ever be," Harper answered nervously and allowed Jay to help her up. Then, they walked out of the stables and back to the castle so that Harper could continue getting ready.

***

Good Lord this gown is itchy, was what Harper was thinking. And, I could really use a drink if I have to dance with more ugly royals.

Harper glanced at the ballroom entrance where Adam and Kevin were guarding the doors. Maybe she could sneak out undetected. But, Adam made eye contact with her and just shook his head and chuckled.

Okay, so getting out of here's a no-go. Stupid rule that Jay and Hailey put in place that I can't drink until the end of the dance. Easy for them to say, they're just chatting it up in the corner with glasses of wine and don't have to worry about the future because they've already found their soulmate.

So, Harper swallowed her pride and made her way over to her sister and her brother-in-law. She really needed something else to focus on, and maybe focusing on the sweet taste of sips of Moscato falling down her throat would help. (After all, this is the victorian age, there's no age limit on when someone can start drinking.)

She picked up a glass from the servant's tray and said her thanks, but Hailey quickly swiped it from her hand.

"Hailey, c'mon. Please," Harper whined.

"No, Harper. You know the rules: no wine until after the ball is over."

"But you two aren't even dancing. Why do I have to?"

Hailey sighed in frustration. "Harper, we've been over this. You have to find a husband. You can't just be a spinster all your life."

"Why not? Because I know once I get married, I won't have any power or say in anything and I'll just be nice to look at. My husband will make all the decisions and I won't have a say in my own life!"

People turned their heads at her raised voice.

"Harper," Jay whispered sternly. "I suggest you go dance with someone or talk with someone else before you make both of us even more frustrated than we already are." Harper scoffed. Jay raised an eyebrow. "You will not dishonor this family, this kingdom, not after everything Will, Hailey, and I have done for you. Now go."

Harper resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She wasn't the one who asked Hailey to bring her here ten years ago when she woke her up in the dead of night to get her away from their abusive father. She never asked for this. But, here she was, having to dance and find someone who would control her for the rest of her life...just like their father did with their mother.

But, she walked away anyway...just as a waltz began to play.

Fantastic, she thought.

She started to walk towards the sides of the ballroom, maybe she could avoid having to waltz with a stranger, but she knew that it'd probably be no use seeing as this ball was for her in the first place.

She looked down at her feet as she walked, the end of her light blue ball gown dragging on the floor behind her.

She stopped when she saw that someone was blocking her path. Because she wasn't looking up, she only saw his shoes and the black dress pants he was wearing. Slowly, she raised her head.

He had brown hair, a cocky smile, and his eyes sparkled. He held out his hand.

"May I have this dance, Princess?" he asked.

Harper nodded. "You may," she answered.

She knew that if Jay, Hailey, or Will saw her turn down a dance, that they wouldn't be too happy, so she reluctantly accepted his hand and they started to waltz.

"By your facial expression, I take it you don't want to be here?" he asked.

"It's that obvious, is it?" she asked.

"Only a little. By the way, I'm Blake G--"

Everyone in the ballroom gasped as the lanterns that were lighting the room went out, and the musicians stopped playing a few seconds later as they couldn't see.

"If we can't get a real royal, we'll have to take you instead," was the last thing that Harper heard before a rag was shoved against her mouth and nose. She felt herself being carried, felt her hand still holding this Blake character's hand, and then she felt herself quickly slip into an unconscious state from whatever poison that rag had been soaked in.

***

Guards came up from the shadows and ushered Hailey and Jay into a secret hideout behind where they had been standing sipping on their wine and watching Harper dance with Blake Gallo-Severide.

"What the hell's going on?" Jay whispered angrily at the guard.

"We don't know, your highness. The lights went out so we figured it best to get you to safety as quick as possible."

"What about Harper?" Hailey asked worriedly. "Where is she? Is she safe?"

"That I don't know, my lady."

Then, the door came busting open and the guard drew his sword.

"It's only me; it's Ruzek," Adam said as he entered.

"Adam!" Jay whisper-yelled. "Where's Harper? Is she in another hideout?"

"Jay, I don't know, I just came through the tunnels to make sure that you and Hailey were safe. I can go look in other ones if you want. But, along with you, I'm trying to find out what happened in the first place. I have other guards, being led by Kevin, who are making sure that Harper and Will are safe."

"Good," Jay said. "If they're being led by him, that means they'll do a thorough sweep." He paused. "Just keep doing what you planned on, Adam."

"Alright, I'll let you know when it's safe to come out. It'll probably be at least half an hour because, even though the lights are back on, we need to make sure that the guests are all out safely and do a sweep of the palace to make sure that you can come out. This will all be done at the same time. There are servants and guards getting the guests out safely while the rest of us will sweep the palace and the tunnels."

"Okay." Jay gave him a nod, which signaled that Adam Ruzek could leave to continue his job of keeping the royal family safe.

***

"You may come out now," Adam said and then ushered Hailey and Jay out of the secret room 45 minutes later.

"Where's Harper?" Hailey asked.

Silence.

"Where's Will?" Jay asked.

"Jay!"

Jay heard his name being called and looked up to see his older brother, the king, running towards him.

"Are you and Hailey alright? I had one of the guards run down to the infirmary to tell April what was going on in case we or guests got hurt when the lights went off."

"We're fine," Hailey said quickly. She turned back to Adam and took a few steps toward him so she was only separated from him by a matter of inches. "Where is my little sister, Adam? And it'd be in your best interest to tell me the truth. Right now."

"Hailey, Jay, we couldn't find her."

"What?" Hailey screamed.

"We searched all the hideouts and the tunnels and swept the palace left and right, but there was no sign of her. I'm sorry."

Hailey took another step forward. "You're sorry? You're sorry?" she yelled. "It was your job to keep every single person in this ballroom safe and you let the person that this was meant for go missing! Missing! God, how could you let this happen? We trust you with our lives, Adam!"

Hailey felt someone place a hand on her shoulder.

"Hailey, sweetheart, how about we go get a cup of tea or coffee, and you let Adam explain what happened to Will," Jay suggested calmly.

"No! I don't need tea or coffee or any other hot beverage, Jay! I need my sister!" she yelled and spun around to face her husband.

"Sweetheart, I understand that. We all understand that. But, yelling at Adam here isn't going to get her back. We need to understand what happened so that we can find her. And for that, Adam needs to be able to do his job."

Hailey took a deep breath. "You're right, you're right. It's just, the last thing we did was fight. I can't-- what if..." She sniffled. "What if that's the last time I saw her?"

Then, she threw herself into Jay's arms and wrapped her arms loosely around his neck.

"I'll take care of her," he said quietly to Adam and Will. "Figure out what happened. And, Will, come tell us right away."

Will nodded and then Jay walked away with his very distraught wife still holding onto him.

Once they were out of earshot, Will turned his gaze directly onto Adam.

"What the hell happened?" he asked and threw his arms up above his head in exasperation.

"Let me preface this by saying that you will not like this answer." Will cocked an eyebrow at the head guard, urging him to continue. "A new guard had to take a leak."

"A guard had to take a piss?" Will practically yelled. "That's why we're in this mess? That's why Harper's missing? They know they aren't supposed to use the bathroom unless someone else can cover their post for them when there's a huge event or until the event's over."

"Kevin's already fired him, don't worry about that."

Will sighed in frustration. "So how'd it happen? How'd the lights go out?"

"You know how they're all connected to one main lamp?" Will nodded. "Whoever infiltrated lit a match and caused the coil to get too hot, thus causing the main lamp to pop--"

"...which caused all the rest of them in the ballroom to go out," Will finished. "I knew it was a bad idea to have them connected to one. I'll send a telegram to Casey right now to get him to change that and make them have different sources. Do you have any idea where they went? Any horse or wagon tracks to go off of?"

"That's what Kevin's looking at right now with others. But, I'm assuming that since they came in through the east window, that they came from the east."

"Is that the first place he's checking for tracks?"

"Yes."

"Good. We need to find her and get her home in one piece."

***

"God!" Hailey yelled when she and Jay were back in their bedroom, a guard outside their door. She was pacing nervously in front of their large, canopied bed while Jay sat on the edge of it, trying to calm down his wife. The coffee that he had Kim bring them was all but forgotten on the table in front of the newly lit fireplace. "She didn't even want to have a ball in the first place! If we just listened to her--"

"Hailey!" Jay yelled at her. She stopped pacing and whipped around to face him. He never raised his voice at her. Ever. Jay held his hands up in a sign of surrender. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that. But, I need you to calm down--"

"Don't tell me what to do!" she snapped. But then, she took a deep breath and lowered her voice. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "I expect you not to yell at me, but then I yell at you. It's unfair, really. I'm sorry."

Jay stood up and walked over to her. Then, he placed his hands on her shoulders and looked directly into her teary eyes. "Hailey, you have nothing to apologize for. Your sister's missing. You have every right to be angry and yell."

"I know, I know. But this isn't your fault. And here I am, yelling at you. It's not fair for me to do to you."

"Listen, they'll find her. I promise you that."

"But how do you know that?"

"Because you and her didn't just escape your hellish dad for her to go down like this. She'll be okay. We'll find her and bring her home."

A tear rolled down Hailey's cheek and she took a deep, shaky breath. "How do you always do this? Talk me down?"

"Well, I have had ten years of practice now," he replied cheekily. Hailey faintly smiled and shook her head. "C'mon, let's drink this coffee before it turns into icicles, and then we can go to bed or get an update from Adam, Kevin, or Will if you want."

Hailey took Jay's hand and the two sat by the fireplace and drank their coffee, but worry was swirling around both of their heads.

***

Harper coughed as she slowly awoke in a damp and dingy place, the candle on the floor sitting in the rusty candle holder the only light. She felt rope digging into her wrists. The stone was rough and cold against her back.

"Princess, you awake?" she heard someone say.

Wait, she knew that voice. That was the voice of the man she was dancing with at the ball when all the lights went out. Blake something.

She coughed again. "I think so."

"I'll take that as a yes, then."

"Where are we?" she asked, her voice scratchy.

"Some dungeon of sorts, I think," Blake Something answered.

Harper's eyes grew wide as the door opened and closed. A burly man walked in, holding two bowls of what looked to be soup.

"Harper Upton and Blake Gallo-Severide," the man said as he paced the small, dimly lit room. "I was just going for the girl, but picking up another royal at the same time, one that the family doesn't like, well, I'd say that's quite a catch."

"What do you want?" Blake spat.

"Oh, wow, quite a mouth on you for a royal, huh, boy? Well, since you asked, I didn't particularly want you; you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, but Harper here..." he trailed off and walked closer to Harper. He twirled a strand of her blonde hair, causing Harper to squeeze her eyes shut. "I needed her to get the king to agree to my demands."

Seeing as Harper was too terrified of this man to even speak, Blake took it upon himself to speak on her behalf. "You'll never be able to get King Halstead!" he yelled. "And, if you take her, there's no way in hell he'll give himself up!"

"Oh, but if I take the prince in exchange for Harper, then the king will give himself up for his brother. Funny how family works, isn't it? Now, here's your broth. Your hands are tied, so figure out how to eat it."

He let out a menacing laugh and then left the room, slamming the door shut with a loud thud.

"Do you know him?" Blake asked.

"No," Harper answered. "I have no idea who that it is. All I know is that he's going to hurt the only real family I've ever had." She paused. "And, you're a Severide? God, of all the people I had to get kidnapped with, it had to be you, didn't it?"

"Look," he started, "I know our families don't see eye to eye on how to treat their people--"

"Treat them?" she asked rhetorically. "Your family doesn't even help them! If there's a drought, you do nothing! A flood, you do nothing! You let your people starve when you could be helping them!"

"It's not me!" he yelled, but then quickly lowered his voice. "It's not me. It's my Grandpa Benny's rule. My mom and dad vowed to change things, but since he's still alive..." he trailed off.

"You can't do anything."

"Correct. Now, let's try to eat this soup, yeah?"

"But how? Our hands are tied."

Blake scooted himself across the floor and gripped the bowl with his tied hands. He could move his hands in the knot they were in, just not have them separate at the wrists. And, since his hands were bigger, he had no trouble wrapping his hands around part of the bowl. "Like this," he said.

Harper tried what he was doing, but since her hands were a lot smaller, it wasn't working. And, there's no way she'd be able to grip a spoon since her fists would just touch. The only thing the two could do was move their hands in and out since they were tied together at the wrists.

"C'mere, Princess," Blake beckoned.

"Why?" Harper asked.

"Well, you're hungry, aren't you?"

"Of course I am," she replied, still very confused.

"Move closer to me and I'll tip the broth into your mouth for you to sip. Fine by you, Princess?"

"I mean, I guess," she answered sheepishly and did her best to move closer to Blake.

Once she was close enough, he told her some more important things. "If you want me to put the bowl down, just tap the back of my hand twice." She nodded. "Ready, Princess?" She nodded again and he held the bowl up to her lips and slightly tipped it.

She sipped and never once had broth tasted so good. She was so hungry, as she had no idea how long she had been out or down in this dingy, dungeon-like area.

"I can promise you," Blake started after he and Harper were both finished with their broth, "that we'll get out of here."

"How can you promise that?" she asked, whipping her head towards him. "We don't even know where we are for Christ's sake!"

"Hey, my dad may be a prince and next in line for the throne, but he taught me a lot of things that might end up being useful in this very type of situation."

***

"What the fuck do you mean you haven't found anything yet?" Jay roared at three in the morning.

Hailey had finally fallen asleep from the pure exhaustion of crying her eyes out. Jay had had his arms wrapped around her in bed and hadn't slept at all, so he had untangled himself from her slowly and quietly enough that she didn't wake up, and made his way around the castle until he found Adam, Kevin, and Will talking in Will's study.

"Jay, calm down! We're working as hard as we can! Me and Kevin haven't slept in almost a day!" Adam said, trying to calm down his friend.

"Well, me either! God, how did this happen in the first place? I mean, I know, but how can you not find her? She couldn't have gotten that far, goddammit!"

"Everybody, just take a deep breath," Will said, commanding the room. Then, he turned to Jay. "Jay, I know you're frustrated because she's like a little sister to you--hell, she's like a little sister to me, too--but we can't do anything if Adam and Kevin don't get some sleep and let other guards take over--"

"So you're letting our two best guards sleep when Harper's missing? Unbelievable!" He threw his hands in the air.

"It'll be until sun up and then they'll be back helping the others," Will reassured his little brother. "But right now, what's best is for them is to sleep and let another head guard take over."

"Then give me all the information you've already gathered and let me lead the guards," Jay argued.

"That's not safe and you know it," Kevin said.

"He's right," Adam agreed. "Even if we did give you all the information we had, you'd still hit a dead end. And, you have battle training obviously, but not as extensive as we do. If they took Harper, that probably means that they want you and Will, so as Kevin said, it's not safe for you to go out and try to find her." He looked between Jay and Will. "That goes for both of you."

"Fine. Sleep why don't you. In the meantime, I'll look over these notes and maps and see if I can find anything."

"Jay--" Will began.

"No, Will! I know you're the king and all, but I was the one who pulled her out of that river ten years ago! I'll be damned if I let her die from this!"

***

"I got it! I fucking got it!" Jay yelled around six in the morning while he was working on his third cup of coffee and Will was half-asleep in his desk chair.

"How?" Will yawned. "How'd you figure it out when even our highly skilled guards couldn't?"

"I just, I remembered something, okay?"

"And that something is...?" Will trailed off.

"She was dancing with Kelly Severide's son when she was taken."

"Blake?"

"Yeah. So, they either tried to get into Severide's kingdom after they took the two or they're in ours or they're really close to Severide's."

"So they're in a place where they know we wouldn't look because it's not in our kingdom," Will said as he put the pieces together and sat up straighter in his chair, suddenly wide awake.

"Exactly."

"I'll go tell the guards."

***

"We're never gonna get out of here," Harper groaned as she and Blake tried their best to get some sleep with their backs against the stone wall.

"Never say never, Princess. Never say never," Blake said.

"Wow, didn't know you were a poet, too. Fantastic."

Harper closed her eyes again to try to get some sleep before they'd be woken up at god knows when to eat god knows what. At the same time, Blake was looking around the dungeon-like room for anything to help get them out of there.

He stood up, which caused Harper to open her eyes. "What are you doing?" she hissed.

"They missed a spoon when they brought the dinner dishes up," he answered as he sat down and then picked up the spoon with his hands which were still tied in front of him.

"How's a spoon going to help us?" Harper skeptically asked.

Blake moved closer to her, the spoon still in his hands. "Great question. I'm gonna get the end of this spoon in the space between the knots to hopefully make it loose and then untie the knot."

"And how do you expect to do that with tied hands?"

"Wow, you're quite the pessimist, aren't you?"

"Sorry, when you listen to Jay and Will bicker all the time, the negativity kind of just happens."

Blake chuckled. "Whatever you say, Princess. Whatever you say." He paused. "And, to answer your question, I am going to get your ties off first, then you'll help me with mine."

"But I don't know how to do that!"

"Just watch me and hopefully that'll help. And, it's not that hard; you just stick the end of the spoon in a knot to make it loose. Pretty simple actually."

Harper raised her eyebrows but held out her hands to Blake despite her skepticism. He stuck the end of the spoon in the knot he thought was the loosest and twirled the spoon back and forth until the gap was big enough that he could fit a finger from each hand in and wiggle it. Then, he worked on the remaining knots.

Ten minutes later, Harper slid her hands out of the rope.

"You did it!" she whisper-yelled. "Now, time for me to get you out of here."

Blake told her the knot he thought would be the loosest and she got the end of the spoon in there and twirled, just like Blake did. With Blake talking her through the entire thing, she got the rope off his wrist in fifteen minutes. There was some fraying in his, but it was off nonetheless.

"What now?" Harper asked.

"See that window up there?" Blake asked as he pointed above the right of their heads. It wasn't much of a window, just a collection of bars that were bolted together and were bolted to the inside of the wall. Harper nodded. "Now, we tie the rope to the third of five bars so it's centered and we pull it off the wall."

"Rope? Against iron? I may be a woman, but even I know that iron is stronger than rope," Harper said.

"It's rusty," Blake pointed out. "Therefore, it should be easy to get off its hinges."

"And how do you propose we tie the rope to it since it's so high up?"

Blake squatted down. "Grab the rope and hop on my back, Princess."

"Fine. Just let me move these candles over here more so that I can actually see what I'm doing."

Harper moved the candles to either side of the window--on the floor of course--and then grabbed the less-frayed rope. Then, she got on Blake's back.

He boosted her up as high as he could, but she still had to stretch to tie the rope to that third bar on the window. Once she tied multiple knots that Blake deemed tight enough, only then did he put her back on her own two feet.

Then, he grabbed the slightly more frayed rope and tied it to the end of the other rope.

"Now, we have to pull hard. And, I want you in front of me because it'll work best if I'm in the back," Blake explained.

"But what if that grate hits me in the face?" Harper asked.

"Well, for starters, the minute it starts getting really loose, I'll tell you to get out of the way and I'll finish pulling it off. Secondly, when it comes off, I need to make sure it doesn't hit the floor, so I'm going to need to choke up on the rope when it starts getting really loose so that I can hold it and make sure it doesn't hit the floor."

"Okay, this is actually a pretty good plan. Who knew Prince Severide would be able to teach his son all this?"

"It's all--"

"I know, it's all Benny who's doing the things to your people. Now, let's get out of here. Maybe you can talk to Benny after this, but first, we need to get out of here before people wake up."

They positioned themselves on the rope, Harper in the front and Blake in the back. Then, they pulled, making their hands rope burned. But, at this point, neither of them cared; all they cared about was escaping wherever the hell they were.

Once Blake deemed it loose enough for Harper to let go, she did and stood off to the left. Then, he got closer on the rope and pulled. He heard the tell-tale creak of it only hanging on by one side.

He gave it one more pull...

Harper could've cheered when the grate came free of its bearings, giving them an out. But, she kept her mouth shut. Blake made sure to still be choking up on the rope so that it didn't hit the floor. It swung past Harper on her right side and towards the back of the dungeon-like room. But, she didn't know where it was on its backswing.

"Har--"

Harper felt a searing pain as the jagged edges of the grate ripped through the sleeve of her blue ballgown and into her tricep. She was about to cry out when she felt a hand clamp over her mouth.

"Don't scream," Blake whispered as he slowly lowered the rope connected to the grate to the ground, making sure that the grate barely made a noise as it hit the concrete.

Harper nodded with his hand still clamped around her mouth.

"I'm going to let go now," Blake warned. Harper nodded again.

Then, he removed his hand.

Harper bit down on her lip from the pain. She knew it was deep because she felt the blood trickling down her arm and heard the pitter-patter of blood droplets hitting the floor. Out of the corner of her eye, she also saw the sleeve of her ballgown was beginning to be stained a shade of crimson.

"So, how we're getting out of here," Blake began, "because we'll talk about that cut once you're out, is that I'm going to boost you up so that you can crawl out." He handed her the less frayed section of the rope after he untied it from the other section which was still connected to the grated window. "Then, you tie this to the first tree you see and toss the other end back down and I'll scale it and get myself out the window."

Harper clamped her left hand over her right tricep. "How do you--"

"Know how to scale a wall?" Blake asked. She nodded. "There's only so many ways you can sneak out of a castle and not get caught...also pretty sure my dad did that when he was a kid, so I guess it runs in the family."

"Okay," Harper said and removed her hand from her arm. "Let's get out of here."

Blake untied the section of rope and handed it to her. Then, she gingerly got on his back once more, being careful to use her right arm as little as possible. He walked forward and stopped in front of the window.

"You can do this, Princess," he encouraged.

With that, Harper pushed herself up and out of the dungeon-like wherever they were, and then started running, the rope trailing behind her.

She saw a tree to her left and ran towards it, cut arm forgotten because of all the adrenaline rushing through her veins. Then, she wrapped the rope around the tree and tied a few super tight knots.

She ran back to the window with the end of the rope.

"Coming down," she whisper-yelled to Blake and dropped the end of the rope down to him.

She watched as he effortlessly scaled the wall and pulled himself up and out the window.

"What do we do now?" Harper asked once he was out as well.

"Run," he answered.

So, Harper hiked up her blue ballgown and tried to keep up with him as the two of them ran to the left and to their safety.

***

Jay stared at the maps in front of him for what seemed like hours. He went back and forth over the map of the border between his and Severide's kingdoms (a few miles of each kingdom included on each side) and the map of Severide's kingdom. He had maps from fifty years ago, twenty years ago, ten years ago, and current maps spread out on Will's desk and on the floor. He was frantically trying to find any notable difference in any of the maps, frantically trying to find any place that Harper and Blake could be hidden away that no one thought existed anymore.

His eyes widened when he found a small difference in the map of the border: it was an old well that had been there ten years ago but wasn't there now. This meant that there was an old well worker's house near there that wasn't being used now, either.

Jay grabbed the pencil he had been using and quickly drew a circle around the well and the house.

"Will, Will! I think I got it!" he exclaimed.

"I'm awake, I'm awake," Will repeated from his chair where he had previously been half asleep. He rubbed his eyes and sat up straight and leaned towards his little brother. "What have you got now?"

Jay waved him over and the two leaned over the desk. "This," Jay said as he jabbed a finger at the map from ten years ago. "This well was there ten years ago, but it's not there now." He pointed to the empty spot on the map. "See?"

Will nodded. "And you think they took Harper there because it's close to the border."

"Exactly."

The door creaked as it was pushed open and Jay and Will immediately looked up.

"Hailey," Jay said and started towards her. "What are you doing awake? It's five in the morning."

"I'm well aware of the time, Jay. But, I couldn't sleep. I'm too worried."

She made her way over the desk and her eyes scanned the maps in front of the two royals. She furrowed her eyebrows.

Jay noticed how pensive she was. "What? You look like you're thinking pretty hard there."

"That well," Hailey began as she put her finger on the map right where that well was. "I know it."

"You do?" Will asked, now as intrigued as his brother.

Hailey nodded. "That was about half a mile (800 meters) from my house. My mother used to go down to get our water from there. But, they stopped using it because there was a new one built a few months before me and Harper came here." She paused. "You think that's where they're holding them?"

"I mean, it's plausible," Jay answered, not wanting to be the one to give her hope or give her disappointment. "It's five miles from the border, making it seven miles from the palace. They could force them to walk five miles in a day or during the night if they had to."

Hailey quickly started towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Jay asked, starting towards his wife.

"To get our coats. I know the area better than you, so I'm going with you and the guards to find Harper. And don't you dare tell me no. If it'll make you feel better, I'll even ride with Adam so that I'm safer."

Jay pursed his lips.

"You cannot be thinking about letting her go!" Will yelled and then received a stern look from Jay for yelling. "Sorry, sorry, Hailey," he quickly apologized. "And, neither of you or me for that matter, should be going. It's too dangerous."

"Will, we'll be okay. We'll bring multiple guards and me and Hailey will stay in the middle, so that way we won't be open targets. You, on the other hand, do need to stay here," Jay said.

"And let you two go alone...even with guards? No way! There's no way in hell, Jay!" He yelled this quieter than the last time so that he didn't receive a glare from Jay.

"Man, you're the king. You've probably got a bigger bounty on your head than me and Hailey, so please, for the love of all things holy, stay here."

"If you two go, make sure you both come back in one piece. And bring Harper back."

***

As Harper's eyes adjusted to the darkness of the night while she and Blake ran away from the place where they were being held captive, she thought she recognized where they were. She vaguely remembered seeing that well that they had just ran by. She and Hailey would come to it for a drink on a hot summer's day after being outside in the heat all day. In the winter, she remembers being cold while she carried a bucket maybe a quarter of the way full back home while her mother and Hailey each carried two buckets that had been practically full. But, Harper had been eager to help and their mother took any chance that she could get to get her children away from their abusive father.

"Wait," she said, which caused Blake to slow down so that Harper could catch up to him. The blood on her tricep was now oozing down onto her wrist and hand as her wound continued to bleed. "I know this place."

"You do?" Blake asked.

"I think so. I'm pretty sure this is where me and Hailey grew up before she got us out of there and we went to live with Will and Jay. It'd be a lot easier to know if we had a torch."

"I mean, I'm pretty sure I could make us one," Blake said.

"No, that's okay. We just need to walk close to the houses. Most of them should have fires lit for a bit of heat and light...that is, if I'm remembering right. That should help us until we find the right house."

"The right house? Princess, not to be rude, but what are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about us staying inside my old house until the morning if it's empty."

Blake cocked his head to the side. Harper's idea actually wasn't that bad. "Lead the way, Princess."

***

They were there: safety.

Blake put an arm out in front of him, silently telling Harper to stay behind him. Then, he pushed the old wooden door open. It wasn't that hard even though it did creak loudly due to all the rust on its hinges.

Then, he took a step inside and a few seconds later, beckoned for Harper to follow.

He walked over to the fireplace and swept a finger over the mantle, which caused his finger to be covered in dust. He waved his hand in the fireplace, gathering cobwebs all over his hand.

"I don't think this house has been used in years," he said. "Cobwebs are all over my hand from the fireplace."

"And they wouldn't be in there if someone had been lighting fires," Harper finished.

"Exactly." He felt around the mantle some more and then he felt what he was looking for: two candles and a box of matches. Most people left theirs on the mantle, and if this was Harper's family's old house, he was glad that they had done the same thing.

He fumbled with the box of matches until he got one out and then he struck it against the box and quickly used it to light the candles and then blew out the match and dropped it on the floor and crushed it with his foot.

He handed a candle to Harper but gasped at the same time.

"What?" she asked immediately. "What's wrong?"

"It's just that, you're really bleeding."

"Yeah, I know. But there's not much I can do about that right now." She turned her attention to where the door to the kitchen was and took a few steps closer. There, in that door, was the hole from the doorknob that Hailey had cut out all those years ago. "This is my old house."

"How do you know?"

"The hole in the door."

"How'd that happen?"

"That's a story for another day."

Blake nodded. "Fair enough. But for now we need to figure out how to stop that bleeding. How many layers are in that dress of yours, Princess?"

"Now, why would you need to know that, Prince?"

Blake chuckled. "I'm Prince now, huh?"

"You keep calling me Princess, so I figured it's only fair. But, why do you care so much about my dress?"

"I wanted to rip off a piece of the top layer and then tie it around your arm to hopefully stop the bleeding."

Harper sat down on the dirty floor and splayed her dress out in front of her. "Do it. It's really hurting."

Blake squatted down next to her. "You haven't complained once, though."

"Yeah, because we were running for our lives, Blake! I had more pressing matters to attend to!

Blake laughed. "Slow your roll, Princess." He set the candle down next to him and gently separated the first layer of the dress from the rest of the layers of the dress. Then, he made a tiny rip and paused and looked up at Harper. "Time to get that wound covered for the time being."

Then, all that could be heard between the two was Blake ripping a layer of fabric and then Harper grunting in pain when he tightly tied the strip of fabric around her right tricep.

***

The group of guards, along with the prince and princess, rode through the kingdom on horseback in the dead of night. Even though Hailey knew that the guards knew every inch of the kingdom inside and out, she still gave directions every once in a while.

They got to the old well and the old well worker's house.

"I'll stay here with two others," Adam said. "Kevin, you and the other four go inside and sweep the place. Go get Harper. Do whatever you have to do to get them back."

***

It felt like forever to Hailey and Jay, but it was only ten minutes. They heard yelling and sounds of things crashing to the floor and when they came out, they had three men with them.

"It looks like Harper and Blake escaped," Kevin announced. "We found these three bastards asleep and they didn't even realize they were gone."

"We just wanted change in our kingdom--" one started.

"Quiet!" Kevin boomed. "The only change you're gonna get is living in a dungeon the rest of your life. Now, did anyone help you besides these two? And I suggest that you don't lie to me or else I can easily make sure there's rats in there with you every single day."

"No," the man said and the two others shook their heads.

Adam waved his hand.

"We'll get them to the dungeon. We'll question them more once we're there."

Adam nodded and then Kevin and three other guards got the men on horseback and walked next to the horses so that they knew that the prisoners wouldn't escape. Then, they made their way back to the Halstead palace while Adam tried to figure out what to do next.

"Go half a mile that way," Hailey suggested as she pointed to the left.

"Princess, no disrespect, but why?" Adam asked.

"Our childhood home is that way. Maybe Harper and Blake went to stay there for the night."

"You heard her!" Jay ordered. "Go!"

***

Harper stiffened as she heard muffled voices coming from outside.

"You hear them, too?" Blake asked.

"Uh-huh," she confirmed.

He grabbed a candle and held it out in front of him. "Get behind me, Princess."

The door started to open slightly.

The minute Harper saw to stripe of color on the guard's boot, showing what kingdom she was from, she rushed out in front of Blake.

"Harper--"

"It's okay! It's okay! They're guards!"

When Hailey heard Harper's voice, she immediately jumped down from the horse, despite Adam trying to stop her.

"I don't care if it's not safe, Adam!" she argued. "Harper's in there, so I need to go!"

"I'll go with her," Jay said quickly and jumped off of his horse and quickly stood in front of Hailey.

The minute the two were in the door, Hailey rushed out from behind Jay and sprinted to her little sister.

"Oh thank God," she exclaimed and pulled Harper into a tight hug. "Thank God you're okay!"

Harper winced as Hailey's arm wrapped around the wound on her arm and squeezed. Hailey quickly pulled away.

Jay's eyes widened as he saw the wound on Harper's arm. The girl who he saw as a little sister was hurt...and he couldn't be sure who did it. While Hailey started to bend down to take a closer look at the ripped flesh, Jay took a giant step towards Blake.

"Did you do this?" he yelled.

"No, I--"

"Then explain to me! Explain to me what happened to her!"

"He didn't do it!" Harper yelled. Jay and Hailey looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to continue. "When we got out and got the grate off, when it came down, it hit me in the arm and cut me." She winced as Hailey lifted up the fabric that Blake had tied her arm off with. "Shit, this really hurts."

Normally, Jay or Hailey would scold her for her language, but given the circumstances, they both found it appropriate to swear.

"Does anything else hurt besides the arm?" Jay asked, seeing as Hailey was too worried about her sister to even speak. "Did they hurt you at all?"

"No, no they didn't. Just tied our wrists and kept us in this dingy dungeon place."

"Okay, well we should get you back." He turned to Blake. "We should get both of you back."

Blake nodded. "With all due respect Prince Jay, my family's palace is closer. Wouldn't it make more sense if we brought Harper there? Sylvie could stitch up her arm and she could rest there a few hours before you started back to your palace."

Hailey turned to Jay. "He does have a really good point."

He sighed. "Fine. But, I'm going back to our palace with one of the guards and then I'll meet you at Severide's. I want to know why this happened."

***

A few hours later, Harper's wound was fully stitched up and free from any bacteria thanks to Sylvie. Hailey was sipping coffee near her sister's bedside while Blake sat across from her, finally succumbing to sleep the same as Harper.

Jay, on the other hand, was just entering Severide's palace with Will in tow.

"Halsteads," Kelly said as Will and Jay, along with Kevin, entered Kelly's huge study. Benny was there, too. "Blake filled me in on what happened. God, that kid. From having his parents die in a fire and me and Stella taking him in, it's like he can't catch a break. We just wanted him to have a nice time at the ball last night and then all this happened."

Will cocked his head to the side and took a step forward. "Wait. So you knew that Blake went to the ball and that he still wasn't home and you didn't send guards out to search for him? Unbelievable."

Kelly held his hands up in surrender. "Hey, I thought the kid might be getting some action. Lord knows all three of us did after balls back in the day."

Benny cleared his throat, clearly not wanting to hear about his son's escapades.

"Did we get anything from the kidnappers?" Benny asked.

"First of all," Jay began, "we, didn't do anything. Kevin here did most of the work and yes he did get some answers." Jay took a step back. "Kevin, care to explain what they told you?"

"The three men that kidnapped Prince Gallo-Severide and Princess Halstead were from your kingdom," he said as he nodded towards Benny and Kelly. "They were angry that you weren't doing anything for your people, and since our palace is apparently easier to get in just because of the architecture, they decided to get into the ball, kidnap the princess to try to get to King Will here, and then hold him for ransom until either Prince or King Severide came to get him."

"And why would we--" Benny started, but his son quickly cut him off.

"Oh shut up, father! You know I'd do it!"

"I mean, I guess I can see it." Benny shrugged.

Will cleared his throat. "With that now explained, are you going to do anything to help your people? Because if this happened once, it could easily happen again. I'm not usually one to give in, but in these circumstances, you need to. Hell, you've needed to before Harper and Blake were kidnapped!"

"Don't you dare--"

"Father!" Kelly yelled. "Will's right! Things need to change! Not that you'd understand because you barely know how to run a kingdom, hence why ours has gone to utter shit. We need change and we need it now."

"I'm still the king!"

"And I don't give a damn! You were galavanting the world, leaving your people, our people to suffer and being a terrible ruler." Kelly took a deep breath and lowered his voice. "If you don't do this, I will side with the rebels so that they can get what they want."

"You wouldn't!"

"Oh, but I would. And, you know as well as me that I never back down."

Kelly and Benny stared at each other.

"So?" Jay asked. "What's it going to be?"

"Yes," Kelly agreed. "What is it going to be? Have a traitor for a son or be a good person and help the people of our kingdom?"

Benny threw his arms in the air. "Fine, fine! I'll do it! I'll start focusing more on our kingdom, starting by making sure that prices for food are reasonable so that everyone can have food."

"That's all I ask," Kelly said. He turned back to the two Halsteads. "Now, do you guys want to see Harper? I'm pretty sure Hailey and Blake are with her now, but I've got no problem bringing you two down there while my father sorts things out." He threw a glare towards his father and then quickly turned his attention back to Will and Jay.

"That'd be great," Jay said. "Thank you."

***

"Good morning," Blake whispered when he noticed that Harper was finally waking up. That girl slept a lot compared to how much he slept after their whole ordeal. "Or should I say afternoon," he chuckled.

"It was a long night," Harper said.

"Care to head back to our palace in a few hours?" Jay asked. "No offense, Blake, but I'm sure her bed would be more comfortable than an infirmary bed."

"No offense taken at all."

"I'm just so glad you're okay," Hailey said and reached for Harper's hand. She moved her gaze between both Blake and Harper. "I'm so glad that both of you are okay. And, according to Jay and Kelly, some good is going to come out of this in that Benny is going to try and help his people."

"Good," Harper said. Then, she turned to Blake. "Since I guess you're not so bad at all, Prince Blake, I hope to see you at the next ball?"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world, Princess." Blake smiled.

"See?" Jay started. "I told you that you're a princess, Harper."

A/N: Sorry this has taken me so long to get out! School started and I had a couple of rough shifts at work, so I wasn't in the mood to write. I know it's not August, but I started this at the end of August, so I'm still counting this as part of AU-gust. Also, the picture at the top is from the Biltmore House/Mansion that I visited in mid-August. (I took the picture.) Anyway, thank you so much for reading! And, please remember to like/reblog, comment, and send me asks! I love hearing what you guys think! As always, if you want to be added to my taglist, just tell me and I’ll add you.

taglist: @theambracer88 @virtualreader @kelelas-life @celyndavies @brookerz122493 @musicismyescape27 @anotherfan07 @thexplosivegirl @dreamingwithlens @xoxmariaxox @onechicago18 @iamasimpingh0e @i-like-sparkly-things @herecomesthewriterwitch @liampayne88

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be-bi-do-crime · 3 years

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now i see in technicolour

OR, we always talk about julia’s favourite colour being red, but what about carmen’s favourite colour?

“Well,” Carmen laughs, a bit surprised from the question. “Apart from red, you mean?”

“Yeah,” you reply, curious. “Do you not have another?”

Carmen looks deep in thought, genuinely pondering it, then—

“It’s definitely not green, I can tell you that,” she snorts. You give her a pointed look, and she waves a hand dismissively, as if to say fine, I'll stop messing around.

Carmen takes a deep breath and straightens, and you watch as her eyes begin to shine.

“I suppose it depends,” she begins, starting to pace around the rooftop she dropped you both on. “I could give you a different answer every day, but ultimately…”

“I do love red. But not in the way you think, not just because it’s in my clothes and the coat and hat I wear every day. I like the softer shades, too, faded out so they’re almost pink but not quite, flushing the tips of ears or painting rosy cheeks. I like it in dark crimson, the near-black tone glimmering in the shape of a carved ruby, set on the center of a golden band. I like it in sunsets, blood-orange and melting into the moon, or tinting the skies on train rides to India.”

“Orange isn’t half-bad either,” she continues. “You can find it in the tangy-citrus sweetness dripping from the edges of a sinking misshapen pie, or when you’re riding on the back of a wagon to pick pumpkins from farm patches in the fall. It’s the colour of leaf piles that we build for Scarlett to jump into, and it’s the colour that blurs past my vision when she throws them at us in some made-up game. Our home glows orange in the winter, warm from the fireplace, and the flickering light is the most mesmerizing thing you’ve ever seen.”

“Yellow’s next in the rainbow, and while it isn’t my favourite, I still love it for its simplicity. It’s bright sunshine on summer days, melting the ice cubes in our freshly made lemonade. It’s the colour of royal crowns we prevent from being stolen, the light streaming through bell tower windows, or the colour of happy-faced emojis blowing virtual kisses when one of us has to arrive somewhere late. It’s in the corner of crayon drawings of family, depicting the sun and its rays, and they’re stuck with pride onto our kitchen fridge.”

“I already said I don’t like green,” Carmen says next, and you nod in understanding. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t respect it. It’s the colour of the dirt-grass stains on Scarlett's overalls when she has a field day at the playground- I told Jules we should’ve gotten black ones to hide them,” she chuckles.

“It’s the viridescent glow of Christmas lights purchased from Party City, strung around the tree at night, in a never-ending pattern of the shades of a traffic light. We all know that green also signals the meaning of “go”, and every time I see it on the street, I know I’m one block closer to home.”

Carmen pauses, and then she somehow gets brighter, her eyes crinkling at the corners in happiness as she introduces the next colour.

“Oh, we’re on blue,” she breathes, stopping her pacing and placing a hand on her heart. After a second or two, her right hand moves down to brush over her left hand, where a sapphire-embedded band of silver sits on her ring finger.

“Blue is... everything. It’s... God, I can’t even- blue is like magic, you know? It’s in the sky where we point out funny clouds or constellations from. It’s in gas-fueled fire on the stove where dinner is about to get spectacularly burned- by me, of course, Jules could never. Even Scarlett cooks better than me,” Carmen says fondly.

“It’s in plastic butterfly hairclips and off-key renditions of Cookie Monster sing-a-longs on YouTube that Scarlett is scarily obsessed with. It’s in the deep navy of suit jackets and thin-rimmed glasses, or when the light of a streetlamp hits a specific angle and it tinges the edges of short-trimmed hair.”

Carmen starts to rattle off more things one by one, all the while never losing the beam of her smile. “You can see cobalt in the ripped denim of cuffed jeans, cyan in the ridiculously tacky stuffed bloblike animal that Scarlett insists on calling her best friend, or cerulean in the salty sea of beaches when we go on vacation. Baby blue is in the hand-knit mittens we put on Scarlett when it snows, or there’s the smidge of Aegean lining the thread on the inside of her hat.”

“You’re making it sound like blue is your favourite colour by knowing all those shades,” you cut in, your tone teasing. Carmen just shrugs coyly as she answers.

“Maybe it is,” she says. “But like I said, they all are. I'd talk about black, grey, white- and all the shades of colours in between- if I could, but we’d be here for quite a while. Plus, I still have one more to go.”

“Right,” you hum. “Purple. Or indigo and violet, if you’re fancy.”

“Exactly. Have you ever been to Milan?” Carmen asks suddenly, but she doesn’t give you the time to respond, barreling onward. “Well, I attended a fashion week event there once for a caper, and that was the second time I saw Jules. The spotlights made the entire room bask in a haze of dreamy violet, which was the perfect vibe for a fashion showing, in my opinion. Anyway, I dragged her up on stage with me by the hand to help me with the caper, and she’d gone along with it, no questions asked. Then I put her in charge of things, and she’d gotten the gowns to safety with Zack and Ivy while I took care of the mind-controlled models.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You put her in charge of things during your second meeting?”

Carmen doesn’t even hesitate. “I always knew I could trust her.”

A beat of comfortable silence settles, before a phone that isn’t yours pings with a notification. Carmen clears her throat and looks at you, an apologetic expression on her face.

“Sorry, I have a date with my wife to catch,” she grins, firing off a text message back that no doubt consists of the virtual kisses she mentioned earlier. She turns to leave and throws a wink over her shoulder, getting ready to activate her glider.

“I hope I answered your question properly!” she shouts. “I trust you’ll find your own way home?”

You most definitely will end up getting lost, considering this is a rooftop in the middle of nowhere, but you don’t say that, content to just let Carmen go and see her wife and kid. “I have it handled.”

And so, with a smile and two finger salute, you watch the Crimson Ghost disappear into the night, leaving you with a rainbow kaleidoscope of answers and a full heart.

#my writing #not me tearing up at this bye i need therapy #carulia #julethief #carmen x julia #scarlett fankid belongs to indigo!#THIS IS 1086 WORDS I AM CONCERNED FOR MY WELLBEING #EDIT: ITS NOW 1160 WORDS AFTER EDITING.

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thekitschdiet · 3 years

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my take on the literary masterpiece, the chic diet

Firstly, I am no one. It’s part of my charm. My fifteen minutes of fame was years ago, when I had an instagram niche meme page. I didn’t even take any brand deals! And my posts averaged six thousand likes! Anyhow. I am hardly literate and well hydrated and carry a small sephora-CVS-hybrid worth in my mini tote bag. Here is my guide on how to live like me, the intermediate kitsch-rat, aspiring influencer. But like, in an apathetic, somewhat dissonant, ironic way. I like saying I live by dogmatic principles. But a lot of it, um, is just eating disorder rituals. But that’s not really important. You’re as hot as you say you are, and as much an authority on what you write so long as you say it with, you know, conviction. It’s kind of venerable how fucking delusional I am, actually. Giving any sort of advice like I’m anywhere close to the ritzy ideal of the amphetamine-areyouami label-american. New York, ideally. West Village, preferably. But I guess the kind of guide I can write is better suited to someone living in a suburb, in a house with the twelve-paned windows. I always thought those were so chic. SO quaint, in a somewhat luxe way. Like, Connecticut vibes. My parents used to drive me up there as a child to buy books and ice cream. Nowadays I’d opt for a matcha latte with novelty ice cubes, but I guess at the time it was pretty sweet.

Because I popped a Vyvanse at like, 10pm, this next little bit could go one of two ways. I will write the most articulate, brilliant piece of literature of my life. Magnum opus, if there was a skinnier word for it. Or, I will get wrapped up doing something like folding all my last-season knits (which is part of my look, okay! I don’t have a job!) and fixating on a paragraph on how a girl’s collarbones are almost as identifying as a fingerprint, or a signature. I’m not a graphologist, but if you write your A’s with the little tail on top (like on a computer), you’re probably a snake. Nothing personal, just an observation. Also, I do have a biology final to study for. Not that I’m super anal, or even particularly committed to academia, but even in my precariously manicured (read that as separate terms; I did a good job on my nail polish, okay? But I happen to also be teetering on the brink of an epiphany or a collapse. Hence the use of the word precarious.) state, I know it’s important enough I can let one of my countless side-quests sit idle for a couple more days.

The first section seems only natural to be about hydration. And the whole idea of drinking things, really. There was a section in The Chic Diet about Adderall dry-mouth, which deeply resonated with me. Once I bit off a chunk of a Nivea Strawberry Shine (my favorite lip balm, more on that later) and swished it around my mouth. Didn’t help. Really, really didn’t. Anyway, I suppose that even if it served no purpose for combatting my prevacatingly ingenious cottonmouth solution, I was able to milk a sentence or two out of the experience. “Do it for the Vine”, all grown up! And wearing bananapapaya resin hoops too. Side note, that Etsy shop is a parasocial enemy of mine. It stems from jealousy, which sucks, but hating from inside a club I’m adjacent to is much healthier than being a hateful individual towards people I would, you know, interact with. Daily. Or something. I stopped going to therapy because I felt stupid about going and I don’t live in the right kind of town to warrant vacuous $300 hours. Bitching about my well-adjusted parents and how desperately I wished my anxiety would just “go away” was plainly gross, and a waste. Like, pretty sure almost every problem I have could be solved by a couple painful conversations taking place during a hurricane. Such a shame it doesn’t rain much here. Anyhow, I digress.

Staying hydrated. It is essential to my character, my persona, if you will; to never be without either an elegant metal bottle (I’m loyal to the smooth enamelled S’well ones, printed to look like marble or a semi holographic solid) or a little 16oz tumbler with a metal straw. Hydroflasks were some of the worst things to happen to society. I want to preface this claim with the fact that I wanted one in the same way a teenage girl wants a new iPhone so she can keep up appearances with her dermatologist-dad friends who still have the XR, by the way. But I ended up spending the money on like, a minidress at Brandy Melville before it fled my city. Or maybe a Fresh Sugar tinted lipbalm. For the better, even though the dress has a busted zipper now and the lipbalm tube has inevitably gotten dinged and dented by the other contents of my mini-totebag. Unlike a car, though, a couple scuffs on your laptop or your luxury lipbalm tube looks kind of cool. Like, you’re not someone who values the pristine, unused quality of an item that was ambiguously intended to be used versus displayed on Instagram. Now, I’m wondering why this paragraph about hydration is so fucking impossible to stay on track for. I literally drink several litres of water a day, and more tea on top of that. And sometimes an almond milk latte if I can budget it in. Not that I’m so anorexic I can’t afford a 45cal latte. They’re just not that important to me. Anyhow. Drinking lukewarm (on the cool side) water is better than ice-cold. Partially because I just get it out of the tap of my ensuite and I can’t be bothered to wait for it to run cold enough every time, and it just seems wasteful. Plus, there is something so.. skinny about drinking water at an “obscure” temperature. Trust me, I want to know why my thought process is like this too. My favorite tea is blueberry tea foraged in a side aisle at my local supermarket. I love a good commercial, high-end steep or fruit infusion as much as the next girl. Maybe more. My pantry is filled with tins labelled with things like “emerald jade organic” and “magic potion”, which is really just currants and butterfly pea flowers. But there is a necessary glamor about drinking dirt-cheap tea on the daily. Seriously, a box of 25 sachets is like, $3. At a higher point with my, um, Adderall problem, I spent like several times that on pills. I didn’t really need to include that, and could have linked the price point to the cost of a drugstore lipbalm, but I wrote it in. And I’m married to it, stubbornly, as all amateur writers should be when they wittle in a somewhat indecorous little joke. This tea is sooo good because it has a strong fruit-reminiscent taste (not as sweet as a fresh blueberry, but who wants that anyway?), it’s zero-calorie, it’s the most GORGEOUS color ever. The latte, the third drink in my little trifecta, is nothing special. But necessary. The trick is to use a milk frother to whip up sugar free syrup with instant coffee and a little bit of hot water in a glass. It’ll make the most luscious foam.. Top it off with almond milk. My dad is a coffee purist, owning both an upstairs keurig AND a downstairs one (among other more analogue methods, but I can’t name-drop, so what’s the point?), so he hates this drink. Now, calling oneself a plebian is so unglamorous and teetering on self-deprecating territory, dangerously close to insecurity. But I can use it here because I am at least posh enough to have a different pair of earrings for every outfit I could possibly come up with, and I only wear Patagonia if I am in a situation where I just have to wear fleece. Like I was saying. It’s such a simple drink, certainly not a delicacy, and… I had a joke about the word plebian but I keep getting up to refill my water and I fear I have forgotten about it.

Next section; the importance of a good tinted balm

In the intro I alluded to how a girl’s collarbones function essentially as an identifier, the way a signature or fingerprint does. This is a lie, or at least an exaggeration. But one’s ultimate tinted lipbalm is actually extremely indicative about who you are, as a person, as a member of society, even…

If you are loyal to Dior Lipglow, I have a couple questions. One; did you shoplift one tube, once, and refill it with cheaper stuff afterwards? I did that. I consider it one of my better-kept secrets, but now you know. Might as well explain the catalyst for my parent’s first separation now, and the horrifying experience that was meeting my dad’s Manhattan sugar baby (?) at the age of thirteen, wearing an overalls dress from, like, Topshop or something else equally embarrassing. .. Kidding. I digress. It’s such a fancy lipbalm, and good too! It smells like thin mints! But I could just never justify cell phone monthly installation payment money on something I will inevitably talk off. I do own three, but two I stole (before I lost the nerve, somewhat unfortunately) and one, a boy(not)friend bought for me. This is not something I feel any remorse about, because his house was easily four thousand square feet and his sisters had a dedicated all-glass room for their shared peloton. Oil money. Ugh!

My personal favorite lip balm, and I have tried a frightening amount, has got to be the Nivea Fruit Shine collection. The frosted one is shit-ugly. Hideous. But the strawberry one is the love of my life. It’s such a pleasant red, looking healthy and rejuvenated and really completes any look. Only downside is it will always, hopefully not always, remind me of Charles. Kissing Charles, specifically. And him asking me what lipbalm it was, because he knew I was somewhat frivolous and definitive and would have a very long answer. But for whatever reason, I simply stated it was from “out of town”. Not really sure why I said that, but it plagues me (minorly) to this day. Of all the things to make up.. .. The peach one is a perfectly demure spring classic shade. Cherry exists too, but the only tube I have ever had the fortune of owning was purchased in Costa Rica and lost somewhere on the way home. Honestly tragic, it was the juiciest shade. Blackberry is perfect too, but I have to layer it with either peach or untinted lipbalm to avoid what I imagine TooPoor would choose if she believed in tinted lipbalm. I don’t mean this hatefully, I think she’s a queen, but super dark, smudgy makeup suits the eyes better in my opinion. Or something. Or something.

Afraid to bore the reader, I have to move on now. Maybe at a later date I will release an addendum on my ultimate lipbalm buying guide. But also, that is so deeply personal (and everyone needs the excuse of “hunting for the perfect staple shade!!”), so it is really not my place to have any authority on something so intimate and subjective. Etcetera.

Moving on; Decorating your room

Here is a section I lifted out of my memoir document. It fits, because as enigmatic as I hope I am, I am also quite unchanging.

I just pushed three hangers and two tiny strappy tops with the tags still on, off my bed. Most nights, all, these days, actually; I spend in my large but cluttered bedroom. I have a little ensuite with a jetted tub I’ve never used because I just never get around to it. There’s a plush grey rug, spanning the expanse of the room (covering an ugly cherry wood that doesn’t match the rest of the house; no clue why. I never asked, and the previous owners were eager to sell so they could finally ditch this town and retire in Montreal for the bagels, or Hawaii for the monk seals. Point is, I’ll never know) with loose beads and loose pills and little shards of glass from plier-crushed beads. I vacuum every day. The whole room tells you exactly the kind of person I am; the clutter I possess, the encapsulation of the projects I start, start, start and the hours I don’t sleep for and the clothes I tried on (these to sell, these to cut up with kitchen scissors; thrifted lululemon and aritzia and heaps of knits and plaid fabric..) I would not say the room is a mess. Lived in, maybe. Chopsticks and mugs and gum wrappers. Single dangle earrings. I just finished the last of my Creme Brulee eos lipbalm; disguised as a relic of 2015, I was gifted it Christmas of ‘20. I think my next waxy conquest will be a tinted Burt’s one I palmed a while back, before I lost the nerve. Peering around the room you will see shopping bags strewn about the mouth of my walk-in closet. Every surface has something shiny or colorful stacked up on it. Cluttered, busy, but intentional. Except for the walls, which are bare. Bare and gray and miles-tall when I lie flat on my back, high out of my mind, willing things to change but knowing I’m responsible for a first step I will always be too scared for. Bare, pristine, no gumtack. Empty, Like they’re waiting. I wait around a lot. It makes sense. That was an awful lot of words about my stupid blank walls when truly it does not bother me that much; I really just don’t get around to it. I have other things on the ground to tend to, like post-email nausea, addressing envelopes, marrying wire and bead. Writing a document I care about because I am determined and I am alive, alive, alive, goddammit.

Excerpt over. The memoir is coming out when I get famous, or something earth shattering happens. Like I become the world’s least remarkable entrepreneur, and I get retweeted by Colorpop. I don’t want to be the next Elizabeth Wurtzel. I read two of her memoirs one restless night, absorbing it to make up for the nutrients I didn’t that day (you can laugh. I think that is pretty clever), heart breaking a little bit. She writes about her struggles so intrinsically, you either get it, or you don’t. Anyway. She had the books and the fame from it, and she wrote more memoirs than I think a single person should. That is admirable. Aspirational, even. But I do not want to be like her. Where was I? Oh. Yes. Decorating/adorning/filling your room. Your room should serve as the kind of place to watch a movie (if you believe in film. I don’t) and put on ridiculous glittery eye makeup, or smoke an ~artistic cigarette~ or stay up all night on the phone, which is different from staying up all night simply on your phone. Chatting with someone you are tepidly in love with is much more exciting. Not chic as the whole affair is so juvenile, but fun regardless. It’s somewhere to keep your worldly possessions, too. I know I have a lot! Also, it is kind of thrilling to hide things in your room in little crevices only you know about. Now, unfortunately, everyone reading this will know too. But, like, I trust you not to really.. do anything about it. I keep my extra juul pods in the sliding box my apple pencil came in. That box is almost more useful than the pencil itself. I’m somewhat morally opposed to the iPad. Whole culture is so embarrassing! I have a tea tin with an ounce of golden teacher shrums in it. This is tossed in my closet among tins filled with other things, like lace trim and buttons. Which makes it actually a pretty terrible hiding spot, I see now… Anyhow. Keeping benign little secrets like that is so fun. You can tell I don’t have siblings. I sort of wish I did, but it is easier to believe there is something aristocratic about being an only child. Not sure if older-sister me would be egalitarian enough to share things. But that’s prophesying, which is kind of a waste of time. I live in the now, in a room positively cluttered with meaningless things that mean the world to me, chewing on my lip because my mouth is just so dry and 5gum is just not an after-8 indulgence. To live truly kitschly, you have to have somewhat hideous decor. Now, do not confuse dissonant, or incoherent, with what I mean by “hideous decor”. The kitsch room has as many surfaces to look at as possible, while also shying away from too many shelving units. Then you risk your room looking like a storage unit or something. When my mom renovated (re: paid someone to do it) our New York house so we could sell it, all our stuff was stacked up in a Cubesmart self storage. It was sort of horrifying, seeing my childhood home reduced to plastic storage tubs piled what felt like thirty feet high. Anyway. It’s just not an inviting way to store things; I imagine it makes your room look like your stuff is all trapped in gelatin. The more fussy, tiny things you have out in the open, the better. Nail polish. Earring trees. Bowls full of rings and lighters and water color pans perched on your windowsill. A rack with the tackiest assortment of knits and bucket hats and baguette bags. And so forth.. Quickly surveying someone’s room is so telling. Bonus points if all your books are spine-in, except for your favorite ones, because you don’t want people to get the wrong idea. (that you read).

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xmyshya · 3 years

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Soft

summary: I am a firm believer that Atsumu CAN be soft. When he wants to. And now he just might. genre: fluff, crack, smut warnings: fem!reader, soft Atsumu, sexual tension, making love at the end, MINORS DNI special thanks: HQHQ and our lovely Atsumu sessions, you guys gave me so much inspiration for the last part. I love you. I love you all. a/n: I don’t want to say that I’m proud of this one, but I am. wc: 2.7k

Looking at the friend sitting across the table in the quiet corner of this adorable cafe, you can’t help but think how crazy it has been. Mostly because he’s an idiot, but you LOVE that idiot. “Y/N? Are ya even listenin’?” “Uhh… yes?” “What were ya thinkin’ ‘bout so hard anyway?” “Okay, uhm, remember when…”

The gym was huge and offered a lot of equipment, half of it having names you’d never heard before. The only problem? It was constantly crowded. Except for crazy early hours, which is why you were dressed in your tracksuit and drenched at 5 am. Yet, you were still not alone at this ungodly time. On the first day, he visibly hesitated before entering, clearly wanting absolutely no company. You couldn’t really blame him, he was probably followed by throngs of fans and paparazzi every day. The man must have deemed you harmless however, because he stayed. Well, at the other end of the enormous room, but stayed. He came back on the next day. And next one. And another, and soon enough you were nodding at each other in a silent greeting. This odd ritual continued on for a few weeks, until… “Hey, ya… come here often?” Fuckfuckfuck, he was still sporting the smug smile, though his eyes were filled with panic. You stared at him dumbfounded. Guess even celebrities struggle sometimes. “Uhh… I… N-no, this is my first time.” Both of you erupted in laughter. “Miya Atsumu, nice to meet ya.” “Oh yeah, I know.” He raised an eyebrow. “I mean… L/N Y/N, nice to meet you too”

“D’ya really gonna rub it in ma face til the end of ma life?” “Nah, I’m pretty sure I’ll forget when I’m old, so I gotta make use of it till I can.” The blonde doesn’t look happy. Amusing. “So what were you talking about?” “Oh right, so there’s gonna be a party for the team and friends, and… uhh… would you like to… be my plus one?” Of course you would like to. Love to. “Lemme know what colours ya wanna wear.” “Ehh? You wanna match or something?” There is a teasing undertone in your question. He either misses it or ignores. “I’ve always wanted to do that…” But you already know. Black and gold, the colours of his team. Yes, obviously that’s the only reason. It’s completely unrelated to your current imaginations of Atsumu looking smoking hot in a black fitted suit, black shirt, and matte gold tie. Totally not.

You’re still adding final touch ups, when the doorbell rings through the air. “Open!” In response there’s a click of the door, opening and closing, and Atsumu announces his arrival with a sigh saying why aren’t ya ready yet. “I’m coming, I’m coming.” You shift from your bedroom to the hall, and he whistles. Sharply. You know you look good in that black dress, hugging tightly all your curves (extra points for a deep notch on the back and thin golden chains), and golden heels. And now, he knows it too. Just like you assumed, he does look great. So great, that the only image filling your head as your eyes run down and up on him is how much you want to rip that suit off of him. Party? You’d rather have a one-on-one party against the wall he’s leaning on. Or a kitchen counter. Or a sofa. Shower maybe? “Are ya checkin’ me out?” Again that smug look on his face. You really want to wipe it off. With your lips. “Must be your imagination.” You push him out of the apartment and lock the door.

One of the greatest mysteries of this world must be why elevator scenes are so… weird. Weirdly hot. You’re both on the opposite ends of the tiny cube, ogling each other and turning your gaze away. “Ya really look beautiful.” “Thank you.” Silence. “You look great too. Perfect ten.” You look him straight in the eyes, and if you have the timing right… “Very fuckable.” Ding and the door opens. You brush his chest while walking out. Atsumu forgets to leave the elevator.

Party hall is already swarming with people when you arrive. Faces from magazine covers flash here and there, some of them entertaining whoever wants to listen, some whispering mysterious promises in eager ears, some just roaming around in search of god knows what. “I’ll get us some drinks” is one of those promises, and Atsumu leaves your side. He’s quickly replaced by one of those roaming creatures. “You here alone?” He’s much too close to your liking. “Actually I-” “You’re beautiful. Absolutely stunning. I’m Shugo-” “Meian!” The voice of your companion startles you with its sudden proximity, but also brings comfort. As soon as the drink is passed in your hand, you feel his touch on the small of your back. “Oh, I didn’t know you two were-” “We’re not.” “We’re friends.” Both of your replies come immediately. Meian straightens up and smiles. “So, you wouldn’t mind if I went for her?” “Not like I have any right to stop ya.” Miya says calmly, but you can feel his whole body tense up against yours.

“Alright everyone, we’d like to make a toast…” Clinking of glasses interrupts your surprisingly pleasant conversation with the MSBY captain, but soon enough he’s back to flooding you with questions. Atsumu walks away to join his other teammates. “Please excuse me.” You don’t even look at the male next to you, focused only on catching up with the blond friend. His questioning gaze burns a hole at the side of your head. “I came here with you.” “Is that the only reason?” Your eyes meet and you give him a lopsided grin. “Nah, you’re much hotter.” He stands a little taller, visibly more confident, fuller of himself. His hand finds its way to your hip and he pulls you a little closer.

Next two hours are spent on the dance floor, countless people already pulling you back before you even step outside of the designated area. You’re currently trapped in the arms of none other than Bokuto Koutarou, and you could swear you were swayed by the sheer force of his alone. But you don’t mind, his energy of a nuclear reactor and megawatt smile fully compensate for any inconveniences. The song comes to an end however, and you quickly follow him back to the table. “Ya don’t wanna dance anymore?” Atsumu asks when you settle in your chair, looking for something to replenish your energy. “Why?” “Ya looked so happy on the dance floor. And yet, yer sittin’ here now.” “Were you watching me this closely?” His ears fire up like Christmas lights. “I do.” “Huh?” “I do wanna dance.” For a moment you’re both just staring at each other in silence. Then you notice gears turning slowly in his head, and, at the moment of realisation, a light bulb. “May I please have this dance?” He holds a hand out, and you place yours in it. Atsumu leads you towards the swaying crowd, and then pulls you close. So close, that your bodies could merge. “And the next one too.” He purrs in your ear.

Miya’s breath on your skin is hot and distracting. Does he feel you shiver every time he exhales on your neck? He must, you conclude, since his palm is resting on your bare back. “Ya smell so good…” The whisper caresses your ear, his lips so close, yet so far. “Mmm… you too.” And those lips curl up.

It’s not just this dance. And not just the next one either. Many dances later and you’re still glued to his body, surrounded by a muscular arm, and one hand still in his. The other one playing mindlessly with his undercut. “Looks like Meian found someone to take home t’night.” “Hmm? Did you?” You pull a strand of his hair and lightly scratch his nape. “Do that again and I might get dangerous.” “Maybe I like doing dangerous things?” There’s a movement near your thigh, and you both hope those words carry a promise.

It’s well into the night and people start leaving, but it seems like the blonde is still not ready to let you out of his embrace. You lean your head on his shoulder, forehead right under his jaw, and let him rock you gently to the slow music. With eyes closed, breathing in his scent, it feels almost as if you two were the only people here. “Are ya tired?” You only purr in response. “Lessgo home then. Wanna stay at mine?” “Oya?” “I-i-it’s… not whatcha think… A won’t… won’t touch ya.” “But if you won’t, then what’s the point?” He freezes, agape, and you wonder how the hell someone so hot can become so flustered. “But seriously, I don’t have a change of clothes” which is a lie, because you do have spare panties in your tiny purse “or cosmetics, or-” “I’ll give ya somethin’ to sleep in.”

The door behind you closes with a quiet click. God, it feels so good to finally, finally take these heels off. You put your purse on a drawer right next to the door, and proceed to take your earrings off, placing them neatly in a tiny pouch. “Tsumu? Could you help me with the necklace?” He doesn’t say anything, instead coming behind you and trying to unclasp the piece of jewelry. Trying, because his hands shake. You take a sneak peek at him through the mirror, at his focused face and slightly poked tongue. He’s so adorable. In the meantime you reach to your hair and start removing the pins, but soon your hands are pulled away and replaced with his. It’s surprising but endearing how gentle this giant man can be. You close your eyes and just enjoy the moment, as your strands tickle your nape one by one. And then something hot and wet tickles your neck, right below your ear. Oh. Oh. “A… ‘m sorry, a didn’t mean to…” Nononono, come back here. You grab his tie and pull him down to a kiss, a searing clash of lips, slowly beginning to move against one another. One of his hands caresses your back, right under the edge of your dress, the other one pulls your hair gently making you gasp. His tongue slides along your lips painfully slowly, and you chase it with yours until the tips meet. The feeling is electrifying, sending shivers through your whole body.

Undressing Miya Atsumu is similar to unwrapping a Christmas present you’ve been waiting for for months. Button after button, you reveal more and more of his heavenly sculpted chest and stomach, your lips following the hands. He loves it, the feeling of your wet muscle soothing the bites drives him crazy, little purrs he lets out make his chest vibrate. It’s almost unbearable. He decides he can’t take it anymore when you hook your fingers under his pants and start unzipping them, grazing his cock. He pulls you close, sliding your dress off of you, and letting it pool at your feet. And then drags you to the bathroom, where he rids both of you of your underwear. The man enters the shower, extending his hand to you, and you grab it by instinct, before being pulled right under the stream of steamy water. “‘Tsumu, I’m gonna look like a panda!” “Eh? But pandas are cute tho?” “I’d rather look hot right now” He laughs boyishly, almost innocently, as he pumps some of his face wash and rubs it gently all over your features. His calloused fingertips massage your forehead and temples, while thumbs work on your chin and nose. It fills you with millions of bubbles, cotton candy surrounding your heart as fluffy as the foam. ��‘Tsumu?” “Mmm?” “Kiss me.” And he does. At first it’s slow and sweet, but as your hands wash away the evening from the skin, there’s more hunger, more passion. Atsumu pulls and lifts you, throwing you over his shoulder as he walks out of the bathroom. “‘Tsumuuuu! The towels! We’re NOT sleeping in a wet bed!” “Who said anything about sleepin’, princess?”

Idiot.

Bonus scene: “Good morning sunshine.”

He whispers against your forehead after your lashes tickle his neck. His palms embrace your cheeks, and his lips on yours are as soft as summer rain. Pecks become open mouthed kisses, invitations and promises of summer heat. Breaths and sighs remind you of a seaside breeze, carrying the freshness of waves and hotness of sand. Your hands are roaming in search of a buried treasure, but no matter how much they find, it’s not enough. It’s never enough. His mouth ghost over the shells of your ears, spilling words smooth and shiny like pearls, while fingers trail new paths under the veil of your shirt. They discover new lands, gliding along the skin, making it bloom in tiny goosebumps wherever they touch. Kisses and licks flow at the surface of your neck, sealing and sucking over sensitive spots, painting them in pinks, reds, and purples. Big palms cover the hills of your breasts, thumbs sweep over the nipples so gently, that you’re not even sure if you imagined it.

Your naked body shivers underneath his, and arches into his warm embrace, as his lips press silent praises into your skin. You open your eyes, and you don’t know which is brighter - the sunshine pouring through the windows, or the sunshine of his hair. You can touch his hair though. So you do, and the soft rivers of gold cascade and tickle in between your fingers. Atsumu raises his gaze and smiles against your skin, lighting up your heart.

Reaching your heat, he pulls the strings of your pleasure with each kiss, each flick of his tongue, and you sing the ballad he composes. In this concert you’re the star, you’re the diva, and he’s merely there to worship you, to accompany your voice, to encourage and appreciate. He’s guiding you through the quiet breathy parts, not much louder than a whisper. He’s caressing the keys, adding more passion, more force, more depth, eliciting notes reaching higher, pushing you through a crescendo, rapidly, lovingly, until you’re nothing but an effusion of pleads and cries of his name.

“Atsumu, come back to me.” You breathe out.

And he’s walking the path again, kissing the ground he steps on, coming back to where he belongs, where he wants to belong. Your eyes meet when he glides into you, slowly, carefully, as if any sharp movement would shatter you and this moment. Atsumu nibbles at your lips and you let him in, let his tongue dance with yours, as your fingers intertwine.

One more push joins your hips, and you both let out a breathy sigh. He pulls back and rolls back in, making sure you feel all the veins, until his tip kisses your cervix. And again. And once more.

“Ah… Tsumu…” And he knows he’s lost.

“God, yer so beautiful.”

You’re sinking in his eyes like molten chocolate, and the whole world ceases to exist. There’s only you and him, and the flame spilling from where you’re joined, overtaking your bodies, minds, and senses. It’s too much, it wells up in your eyes and overspills, and he’s quick to brush it away. A kiss is placed on your temple and travels down your cheek and onto your neck. With a free hand you rub mindless patterns on his back, scrape at his nape, while his roams down along your skin, adorning all the curves.

You moan into his shoulder at the sudden touch. He only grazes your clit and you’re fluttering, pulling him deeper inside of you. The movement is slow, as slow as the roll of his hips, as the drag of his tongue on your throat. But it spreads like a wildfire, floods your mind in waves until everything is drowned in a white haze and explodes in a million stars.

“Come with me”

And he does. He paints his own milky way inside of you, releasing galaxies upon galaxies until he pours everything he has, until he’s empty and you’re full. He does, because he would follow you anywhere.

#haikyuu x reader #atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu smut #miya atsumu smut #atsumu fluff #miya atsumu fluff #atsumu crack #miya atsumu crack #haikyuu x y/n #atsumu x y/n #miya atsumu x y/n #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu smut #haikyuu crack #mysh.supernova.[hq]

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ihearthes · 3 years

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Author: @ihearthes Pairing: Harry x Unnamed OFC Rating: Light Smut Word Count: 3500 Inspired by: @wanderlustwaving and “The Lady or the Tiger” by Frank Stockton

His eyes dart around the bar, seeking her. She has to be here. It’s tradition. Their tradition. January 1st. Every year. Sunset. Anguilla. The Four Seasons.

Harry had booked this table nearest the bay a full year ago, confirming it in mid-June and again in early December. Sitting silently, his eyes shaded behind his sunnies, he watches the giant ball of fire as it descends into the water. Less of a sizzle than one would expect. Each sip of his Casamigos Blanco over ice is perfect. The sky lights up with oranges, reds, and yellows that are reflected on the clouds, resembling the Monet painting San Giorgio Maggiore at Dusk which he had viewed in Cardiff. A second version hangs in Tokyo at Bridgestone Museum, and he had been lucky enough to see it once.

The longer he watches its descent, the more he realises that this sunset is different from the paintings he’d seen. His fingers itch for watercolours or acrylics even though he knows his amateurish strokes would never capture the beauty. Last year, the sunset had been underwhelming, the clouds obscuring rather than reflecting the colours. Their first year, he had been unable to believe what he was seeing. It had been stunning with the reach of the palette across the sky, like tendrils of smoke straining to hug the entire planet. Now he captures his journal from the extra chair, opening it’s leather binding to a blank page. Flipping back to the beginning of his journal, he finds a sketch of her leaning on the railing -- drawn from memory years after their first meeting. His mind casts backwards to the non-date that had launched this annual trip.

“Wow.” The voice belongs to a woman who steps to the railing next to him, leaning forward and twisting her head to take in the full sunset. Glancing at her, he does a double take as he recognizes her. Holy shit. She’s even more stunning in person.

“Oh, I’d give it a solid 8.5,” Harry’s calm voice is the opposite of his turbulent emotional state.

“Seriously? It’s much closer to a 9.2.”

“You’ve lost your mind. It’s worthwhile, but not a 9.2,” he scoffs, shifting his body slightly closer to hers. He turns toward her, planting a single forearm on the railing as he observes her in her floral sarong that matches her bikini top. Her hair is bundled lazily on top of her head, and her tanned feet are encased in strappy sandals. Surreptitiously, he takes in her curves while she’s examining the sunset.

Twisting her head quickly, she catches his eyes on her ass. Rather than blushing, he smiles at her instead, well aware that the dimple is doing it’s job appropriately. The live steel drum band starts a new song, and she boldly turns to him, holding out her hand. “Dance?”

He doesn’t respond verbally. Grasping her fingers, Harry wraps one arm around her waist, stepping into her and leading them in time with the music. When he twirls her rather expertly, she laughs, planting a hand on his chest and gazing up at him with what appears to be a phony bashfulness.

“I didn’t know you could dance,” she laughs.

“Clearly you’ve never seen me live on stage,” Harry smirks.

She clucks her tongue, “Oh, but I have. I said what I said, Styles.”

Looking away from her, he can’t help the smile that breaks loose. Damn, she’s got moxie. And it’s intriguing and beguiling.

“You’re here alone?” he wonders, his eyes roaming the outdoor space. It’s filled with strangers -- to him anyway.

“Tonight only. Yes.” She twirls him, and he grins at the move.

“Me too.” The soft words are spoken into her ear as he’s drawn her closer. “I like to spend the first night of the year reflecting on the previous year.”

“Isn’t that what New Year’s Eve is for?” she wonders, her voice breathy.

“Nah. That’s for drinking and celebrating with friends. Today is for reflection -- looking backwards and forwards simultaneously.”

“Planning to conquer the world this year, Mr. Styles?”

“Indeed.” Arching an eyebrow, he mimics a cartoon villain, drawing his pinky to his mouth.

She slaps at his chest, and he desperately wants to kiss her in that moment. After all, they are flirting, aren’t they?

“Are you going to offer me dinner?” she asks boldly. “And take me to your room afterwards?”

Woah. Definitely gutsy. “Depends,” he whispers as he spins them both around once more while the band winds down.

“On what?”

“On what kind of sushi you prefer.”

“Ah!” There’s a gleam in her eye that he can’t resist. She’s playful and not shy about being the seductress. Harry finds the combination heady. Waving her hand in dismissal as she turns towards his table, “I usually try whatever the newest offering is -- especially if it’s fresh from those waters.” Fingers waggle in the direction of the bay, and he wants to grasp them out of the air and wrap them protectively in his own hand.

Instead, he applauds the band before following behind her. At the table, she drags her chair from the opposite side of the small round table until she’s sat beside him. With his questioning glance, she again gestures towards the bay. “I’m not going to miss that sunset just so I can stare at your pretty face.”

Rather than sketching the sunset, he attempts to paint the current sight with words. Everything he writes seems trite: clementines, flames, majestic, radiant, blush, hearth.

Where is she? Yes, it had been a year since they had spoken, but surely she would have sent a message if she weren’t planning to join him? Why hadn’t they exchanged numbers? Followed each other on Instagram?

But he knows why. The mystery. The transcendental experience. The enchantment of meeting once a year, incognito, in this particular and magnificent place. No knowledge of each other outside of this 24 hours that belongs to them alone.

Which is ridiculous. Because he certainly knows who she is and follows her career. And he would be astonished if she didn’t also pay attention to his. A few times this last year they had coincidentally been in the same city simultaneously, and he had seriously debated trying to locate her. Contact her manager maybe. Or put out feelers that would certainly have stretched to her ears like an old-fashioned game of Chinese Whispers (which of course isn’t what he should call the game now; it’s racist). The message, though, would have been garbled but sufficient for them to meet up.

Every time, he refrained. Their unspoken commitment was to this place and this one day a year. Now he regrets not making contact. Had she decided that one day a year wasn’t worth the effort? Was she even now canoodling with someone else? There hadn’t been rumours of any recent love affairs on her end, and he snatches his phone anxiously to search her name just in case she connected with someone during the last week.

Picking up his now-empty glass of tequila as he scrolls through his phone, Harry draws an ice cube into his mouth, swirling it on his tongue to relish every tiny bit of the liquor there. The burn has vanished as it’s taken him nearly an hour to drink one tequila. No record of any new beaus. Maybe he should follow her now on social media? DM her? What would he do if she didn’t show? How much longer should he wait?

“Oh yum! This roll is even better than last year’s.” She proclaims as she rushes to grasp the last bite of the Ceviche Roll.

“Hey! That was mine!” Harry protests, laughing as she stuffs the full piece in her mouth.

“Order more,” she mumbles around the rice, fish, and seaweed flavored with citrus and cilantro.

“Nah, I’ve got a different appetite now,” he murmurs, watching her lips as she chews the sushi.

Freezing, her eyes rush to his, and she slowly finishes the sushi she’s been eating, swallowing slowly. He wishes that she would move her chair to his side of the table like she had the previous year. This time, they’re seated on opposite sides of the table, but at an angle where both can watch the setting sun.

“What?” Her look has made him nervous. “You’re not going to tell me you’re seeing someone, are you?”

Her hair twirls as she shakes her head. “No. Broke up with him last week in anticipation of this.”

Having sipped his tequila, Harry chokes at her words. Coughing, he grasps the table with both hands. Holy fuck. She didn’t really expect him to --

“Kidding!” Her giggle lights up her eyes, bringing a light blush to her face. She’s truly stunning. Maybe even more than last year.

When her foot, sans sandal, caresses his calf under the table, he knows that the night is going to be filled with sex. Fun, hot, brilliant sex that will last most of the night. Hmm...perhaps it would be best to fortify himself for their escapades. Raising his hand, he flags down the server.

“Sir?”

“Another Ceviche Roll, por favor. Plus a bottle of Casamigos.” He pauses as her foot makes its way further up his leg, and he wonders if she’s going to slide under the table completely. “Send it to my room, please.” Voice catching as her toes make contact with his crotch, he demands, “Put it all on my tab please. I’ll settle up later.”

With a nod of agreement, the server disappears. Quickly Harry rises, adjusting his slacks as he glances around the room.

“Let’s go,” his voice rumbles.

“But H -- the sunset,” she whines.

“My room has the same view,” he insists, holding out his hand which she grasps. Gracefully sliding her foot back into her sandal, she rises and glides behind him towards the elevator.

His stomach rumbles at the thought of eating, and he debates ordering food. The sushi at the sunset lounge is always fresh. In the past, though, they’ve enjoyed the dishes together, trying new ones every year. Dejected, he places his glass harshly on the table, his disappointment at her absence radiating across his psyche like the colours of the sunset.

“I would say it’s a solid 8.5,” her voice sounds from over his shoulder, and he twists in surprise. Like the sunset beckons the stars, she summons happiness to his soul. He scrambles to rise, kissing her on both cheeks, his lips lingering each time. Not too long, though, in case others are watching and photographing. Which he always assumes these days. Fans. Paps. No privacy exists anywhere.

“Hi,” he whispers, grateful for her presence, but unable to say the words that would tell her how worried he’s been. That might reveal too much of his emotions. And his heart.

Fuck. When had his heart gotten involved? And why hadn’t he realised before this particular moment?

“You agree?” she smiles, gesturing to the sunset.

“I would say it’s a 9 or maybe even a 9.2,” Harry smiles, his dimple making an appearance to rival the sunset in front of them.

“You finished your drink,” she nods at his empty glass.

“I started early.” It’s a lame excuse, and he knows it.

His annual partner tilts her head in his direction. “Or maybe I’m late?”

Not knowing how to respond, Harry waits, his fingers playing with the coaster underneath his drink, spinning it around, the glass slowly rotating with the cardboard circle with the restaurant’s name on it.

“I debated,” she whispers, “unsure if I should…”

The server appears, a smile on his face. His white trousers and white shirt are complemented by a blue scarf at his neck, his accent strong.

“What can I get you?”

Harry notices the man’s gaze on his companion’s breasts which draws his own attention to the bosom swelling around the buttons of her frock, which he just now notices has sunflowers across the lower half of the skirt. Was that on purpose?

When she exchanges a knowing glance with Harry and smoothes the fabric over her legs, it becomes clear that she knows exactly what she was doing by choosing this dress.

He shifts in his seat.

“I’ll have what he’s having,” she announces.

Harry reminds the server, “Two Casamigos on the rocks please. And your newest sushi roll with light brown rice please. Thanks.”

Nodding, his date agrees to the order, and he’s relieved that at least the basics haven’t changed in the last year.

“You were saying?” he prompts as the steward moves away from them.

“Oh,” she blushes, her cheeks tinging slightly pink. “I just...wasn’t sure…” She swallows, her head down before she makes eye contact with him, “that this was a good idea.”

Taken aback, Harry settles his bum more deeply in his chair, feeling blindsided by the comment, wishing he had his tequila to soothe him in this moment. “I see,” he mumbles.

“Harry --” she begins, and he waves a hand in her direction.

“It’s just casual,” he unceremoniously argues, “right?” But his heart clutches at the phrasing.

Her eyes drop to her lap where her hands are entwined. “Yes. I guess.” Her whisper makes him sweat. Fuck. Had she decided this was it? The last time? “It’s a pretty sunset,” she adds.

“Absolutely,” he concurs, anxious at what else she might say. Silence descends on the table much faster than the stars appear in the sky above them. Should he be vulnerable? Tell her how he feels? What he’s thinking?

This year’s live steel drum band begins a new song, and without pause, she rises, holding her hand out for him to grasp. Grateful for the reprieve, he joins her in their corner of the outdoor restaurant, placing one hand on her waist as she rests her head on his chest. Together, they sway, and his mind wanders.

“I need another lime!” she shrieks gleefully, holding the bottle of tequila in her hand. Harry shakes his head from his position flat on the bed. They are going to need clean sheets before they sleep tonight. Maybe they will go to her room for actual sleep?

What the fuck is he thinking? As if they had actually slept during their rendezvous in the previous two years.

“Here. Hold this,” she laughs, thrusting a lime towards Harry to place in his mouth, pulp out.

“Mhm. Me next,” he mumbles just before his teeth wrap around the green rind.

“You bet,” she giggles. Settling herself on the bed as she straddles him, her soft parts landing on his cock encased in its bright green briefs. She slides down his legs and leans forward, holding the bottle of tequila out to the side. “Mmmmm.” Licking a stripe up from the base of his underpants to his navel, she sprinkles salt there before tilting the bottle of Casamigos and allowing a shot of tequila to land in his taut navel. He’d worked hard on his abs the last couple of months, knowing that he would be lying here with her. They’ve got definition that most blokes only dream of.

Quickly, her tongue captures the salt before she sucks the tequila from his belly and shifts forward to suck the lime that’s in his mouth. Fuck. If he hadn’t been hard before they started this game, he’s certainly got a hammer between his legs now.

As he releases the lime for her, she grips it in her teeth, leaning backwards in her bra and panties, her core now on his chest, and he can’t resist reaching out with a single finger and tracing a pattern over the treasure he knows is underneath.

“You waxed for me this year,” he comments.

“No,” she protests, “I waxed for me this year. You give great oral, and I wanted nothing to get in the way. It’s been far too long since my pussy has been properly eaten.”

“Oh?” Harry’s eyebrow raises, as he knows a couple of people who she dated during the previous year.

“Yep. I would say,” she smiles, leaning down to capture his mouth in a kiss, her lips hovering just above his, “about exactly a year.”

“Hey…” he begins as they finish their silent dance just as their drinks arrive along with the plate of sushi, but he’s interrupted.

“Here are your drinks. Our newest sushi roll is the Hot Lover,” which makes Harry cringe and shift again in his seat. “It’s spicy tuna, shrimp tempura, and avocado wrapped in soybean paper.”

As he places the food in front of them, Harry smiles sadly and nods as the gentleman fades away into the restaurant, like the sunset has drifted into the ocean.

“You were going to say something?” she asks, and he loses all of his courage.

Shaking his head, he grasps a piece of the sushi roll between his fingers, sliding it onto his tongue.

“Not bad,” he comments as he chews, trying to tuck the food in his cheek so he’s not rude.

“It’s really not got a lot of flavour,” she grins as she mimics his eating habit. “Kind of boring.”

Did she mean their relationship? Was this one of those double-entendres? Swallowing the fish and rice concoction, he sips his tequila as the sushi sticks in his throat. For some reason, he wants to cry. It makes no sense, but the tears come unbidden to his eyes. Fuck. Looking away, he sips more of his drink as he watches the remnants of the sunset fade away, blinking furiously.

“I wanted to call you when we were both in New York this year,” he comments softly.

Her fingers pause halfway to her mouth, the soybean-paper-wrapped piece of sushi hovering near her lips. Harry watches as she debates how to respond to his comment, finally placing the fish on her tongue and chewing slowly. Unable to draw his eyes from her mouth, he unapologetically watches as she savors the restaurant’s latest speciality. Eyes closed, she moans. Her hands clutch the table on either side of her, and Harry feels his mouth go dry.

Once she devours the food, she sips her tequila on the rocks, and he can visualize her tongue swirling the liquid around as she either tries to clear the flavour of the fish or fully taste the liquor. After all, her tongue has done that same move to his most favored body part. When she finishes, she makes eye contact with him, her hands resting on either side of her plate, fingers curled. Taking a deep breath, she straightens her fingers flat without breaking eye contact. Fuck. He’s sweating.

“Truth be told, Harry -- I desperately wanted to call you when we were both in Edinburgh that time.”

“Why didn’t you?” His words are faster than his brain, and he immediately wishes he could draw back the question.

“You know why,” she replies, and he nods because he does indeed know all of the reasons. “The sunset --” Her attention is drawn to the colours in the sky, “is lovely, don’t you think?”

“Honestly,” he admits, “I would say this is the best one of all of the times we’ve sat here together.” The words make him cringe. He wants to keep things light, but something about the moment prevents fluff. It feels momentous. Overwhelming.

He watches as her eyes stray from his to the sky before they tear up and she nods in agreement. “Yes, Harry. I would say this is the most breathtaking of the sunsets we’ve seen.”

Did that mean that this would be the last one? Neither of them is getting younger. Sooner or later, one of them will meet “the one”. And then where will the other be? Stuck on an island with a sunset alone? Fuck. He doesn’t want to be that person. But he truly doesn’t want that for her either.

“It’s a sensational sunset,” Harry pleads, his eyes not leaving her face, not straying to the glorious colours, not denying that they have some chemistry together. Why hadn’t he made a play for her before now? Was a hookup enough? Would he be happy if this is the last one?

“Harry,” she sighs, sipping her drink again. “I wonder ---”

The band starts a new song, and he shakes off the sound, willing her to continue. A group at the table behind them sings ‘Happy Birthday’ while another table nearby bursts into laughter and somewhere a server drops a tray of glasses, the shattering drawing applause from a few assholes close to the debacle. Harry ignores all of it.

“Yes? Go on,” he encourages.

“Maybe…” she bites her lip, looking away from him towards the sunset.

“Yes?” His throat is dry, but he doesn’t reach for his tequila or his glass of ice water. Instead, his gaze remains riveted on her.

“Do you think that perhaps we could…”

His breath catches in his throat. What would she say? Would she ask for some random sex act? Cancel their relationship permanently? Or possibly -- miraculously -- suggest that they celebrate more sunsets together instead of just once a year. He holds his breath, waiting impatiently.

“I mean, it would probably be best if we...”

A/N: Reblogs are love, my readers. I appreciate the likes, but reblogs help others find the story and, quite frankly, encourage me to continue publishing here.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #my writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry fanfiction #original writing #harry styles imagine

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miracleonice87 · 3 years

Note

38 with Mat

from the Winter/Christmas Writing Prompts list

38. “You’re under the mistletoe so stop stalling and just kiss.” 🎄

quick note: this one is prob a bit longer than the others will be. I just L O V E writing Sydney and Marty as secondary characters in Mat stories.

quick warnings: swearing, alcohol, super snowy powdery Christmas fluff

and, just for fun, song pairing: mistletoe by Justin Bieber (obviously)

_____

There really was no place like home.

After moving away to Los Angeles to attend USC for both undergrad and grad studies, you were finally back in New York. You hadn’t been able to resist the pull — it was almost as if, from all the way across the continent, you could feel the Atlantic tide receding and pulling you home along with it. For better or for worse, you belonged to the Empire State.

Sydney, your lifelong best friend and a New Yorker herself, was beyond ecstatic, as she had recently gotten engaged to her longtime boyfriend Matt, a hockey player, and named you her maid of honor. Planning a wedding — not to mention showers and bachelorette festivities — would be far easier, and far more fun, with you in the same zip code. Since moving back six weeks ago, you’d spent about ninety percent of your time with Sydney by your side, making up for lost time with the woman who had long been your other half.

So sweet, right? There was just one problem. Sydney wouldn’t stop trying to set you up with guys. She was insistent that you’d been single for too long — you’d broken up with your college sweetheart by the end of your senior year — and she made it her mission for you to find love again. And she, on her own, was bad enough — she’d already hooked you up with so many friends of friends that you’d lost count, and none had been interesting enough for a second date — but her fiancé conspiring right along with her made resisting them that much more difficult.

This particular night, she had lured you to the home she shared with Matt under the guise of having dinner with her family, when in reality, she was throwing a Christmas dinner party for Matt’s closest friends on the team. All of whom had — and brought — significant others. Except for one. What a coincidence.

Also coincidentally, his name was Mat, too, or so you were told — you didn’t quite believe Syd’s Matt when he told you that upon introducing the two of you.

“Mat with one ’t,’” he announced, one arm slung around Mat’s shoulders. The handsome, dark-haired man swallowed thickly and gave you his best polite smile — it was in that moment that you realized beyond a shadow of a doubt this was yet another set up.

Matt made a lame excuse about needing to check on Sydney in the kitchen and snuck away after some brief pleasantries, but not before blatantly nudging your much-smaller frame toward New Mat. You gave Matt a menacing glare before recovering, standing a safe distance away from New Mat, leaning against the wooden beam behind you to keep you steady.

“So, Mat with one ’t,’ how long have you played with the ever-obnoxious Matty?” you asked, trying to play it cool.

Mat laughed easily. Damn, he had a nice laugh — the kind that made his pretty eyes crinkle at the corners. Nice hair. Nice teeth — perfect fucking teeth. Wasn’t he supposed to be a hockey player? Wait, what was he saying? Something about Seattle, and the draft, and… now you were lost. You nodded slowly with a forced smile as you tried your hardest to focus on what he was saying. He was just so goddamn pretty.

Thankfully, Sydney’s call from the kitchen saved you from the embarrassment of not having heard a word this poor boy had spoken.

“Dinner’s ready! I’m really type A, as you all know, so I made little placecards for everyone at the table,” she announced to the group of ten, hands clasped before her as Matt snaked an arm around her from behind and smiled proudly.

“Guess that’s our cue,” Mat mused. “Shall we?”

You threw him a grin and nodded, turning your back to him and making your way to the dining room.

On your way, you paused in front of your dear friend just long enough to grumble, “Assigned seats? Really, Syd?”

She clapped enthusiastically and smacked your ass as you passed her. “Yep! See you in there, champ!” she exclaimed as you heard frantic whispers exchanged between Mat and Matt. You couldn’t hold back your snicker, and as you glanced over your shoulder, Mat gave you a strained smile. You shook your head bemusedly and turned to the table to find that, to no one’s surprise, you and Mat were indeed to be seated side by side at one end of the table. You cleared your throat and nodded toward the cards bearing your names.

“Subtle, no?” you joked, causing Mat to blush pink. He choked out, “Ah, yeah. You gotta love them.” Then, he pulled out your chair and motioned for you to take a seat, which, as luck would have it, Sydney and Matt caught just in time because they were bringing in the food on serving dishes at that very moment. Their eyes sparkled and Sydney looked like she may self-destruct out of sheer joy as you sat down and thanked Mat. You gave her an icy look and she visibly retreated, holding herself back from making a complete scene.

“Okay, dig in!” she said instead as she sat down across from you.

Dinner was incredible, as usual — while your talents lacked in the cooking area, Sydney had always been an outstanding chef. Even more, you enjoyed the conversation, which was mostly inclusive of everyone at the table, save for the occasional chirp Mat secretly muttered in your ear about Matt or Anders, making you cover your mouth with your hand to stifle a giggle as Sydney looked on smugly. Meanwhile, whenever you and Sydney would say the exact same thing at the same moment or finish the other’s sentence, Mat would look to Marty, who would only raise his eyebrows and nod, confirming Mat’s suspicion that these two were always this in sync. Mat found it endearing. He adored Syd — if he didn’t, he wouldn’t have agreed to come here tonight when she told him, “There’s someone I want you to meet…” — and already, he saw countless similarities in the two of you.

After he’d helped you clear the plates and load the dishwasher for your hosts, you and Mat settled onto a couch in the farthest corner of the living room, near the Christmas tree, while the others gathered in the center of the space, loudly entertaining themselves. As you curled your feet underneath yourself, you didn’t miss how Sydney reached for a nearby remote and slowly flickered on the fireplace right beside you and Mat. Yet again, you shot her a killer look that she pretended not to see as Mat smiled, amused at how flustered you were by Sydney trying to further set the mood.

“So how long have you known Syd?” he asked as he took another swig from his beer bottle, attempting to get you back on track. “Has to be a while. I swear I’ve never seen two friends who were more alike.”

You tucked some hair behind your ear and let out a breathy chuckle. With anyone else, you were ever prepared to skirt that question and quickly move on to another subject. But with Mat, it was nice knowing you really didn’t have to.

“Yeah, my whole life, actually,” you answered, a smile on your face at the thought. Your eyes flickered up to his as you added, “My dad played for the Jets... with Boomer while he was there.”

Mat’s brows quirked noticeably, but not in the familiar way that made you feel like he was about to ask you to FaceTime your dad or get an autograph from him. Because he was a professional athlete himself — which was ironic because you’d sworn up and down your whole life that, because of the lifestyle you saw your dad and his teammates, not to mention their families, lead, you’d never fall for anyone who played sports for a living. Even when Sydney insisted with a shrug after settling down with Matt, “It’s not that bad.”

“No way,” Mat said with a casual laugh. “That’s awesome. What position did he play?”

“Uh, receiver,” you replied. “So he and Boomer were tight. Our moms hit it off right off the bat and have been best friends since. Since then, we’ve always vacationed together, ended up living in the same neighborhood after they both retired. I’m three years younger than Syd and I was basically like her shadow. Still am, I guess,” you added with a smile.

Mat nodded, his eyes never leaving your face as you told the familiar tale. “I think that’s awesome though,” he spoke. “You guys could be sisters I feel like. You act just like her. Plus Marty says you’re the only friend of hers who’s kicked him out of bed so you could sleep with her.”

You threw a hand to your chest and your head back laughing at that, and Mat’s heart soared at being able to elicit such a reaction from you himself. You pointed a gold-polished index finger at him and admitted, “He tells no lies on that one.”

Just then, you caught Mat’s unabashed gaze, which had shifted from well-mannered and nonchalant into something deeper, something... affectionate. You swallowed, casting a downward glance at your lap, and swirled the ice cubes in your otherwise empty highball glass.

“I need a refill,” you said with a nervous giggle. “You want anything?”

Mat looked all too pleased with himself at your offer, and he nodded. “Sure, yeah, another beer would be great. Thank you,” he said. You smiled and nodded as you turned away and headed for the kitchen.

Ever the subtle one, once again, Sydney, who had been shamelessly watching the two of you from her perch in Matt’s lap across the room, stumbled over Jax’s paw as she bolted to the kitchen island where you now stood. You blinked at her wildly and said, “May I help you, Sydney Irene? You nearly wounded your poor dog.”

“So,” Sydney sang, ignoring your question completely as she leaned back against the kitchen counter, propping her palms on the edge and looking much more smooth than she had just a moment ago. She waggled her eyebrows at you before continuing. “Whadd’ya think? He’s cute, right?”

You scoffed. “Sydney—“ you began in a warning tone as you reached for the rum, but were interrupted before you could speak another word.

“If you hate him, it was Matt’s idea,” she deadpanned, then allowed a mischievous grin to stretch along her painted red lips as she cocked her head. “But if you like him, it was mine.”

You rolled your eyes as you poured yourself another rum ginger, ignoring the flush you could feel creeping up your chest and neck under Sydney’s scrutiny.

“You’re blushing! You do like him!” Syd squealed as she poked at your side, thankfully making an attempt to stay quiet as the guys, Mat included, carried on noisy shenanigans in the family room before you.

“Sydney, stop! I just met him,” you tried to argue, turning away from her. It was Sydney’s turn to roll her eyes.

“Like that matters. I fell for Matt like—“ she snapped her fingers for dramatic effect, “—that. And look at us now.”

You pursed your lips to the side. You couldn’t exactly argue that. With no quick comeback coming to mind, you stirred your drink, took three generous gulps — as Sydney watched, wide-eyed — and licked your lips before sighing at her.

“Well, fine,” you grumbled as you opened the fridge and grabbed a fresh beer for Mat. “Let’s not keep the boy waiting then.” You sashayed away from your friend who, spinning away from you, quickly squeezed her eyes shut and crossed her fingers before turning back and following behind you.

Mat thanked you profusely for the drink as you returned to him. Now he sat among his teammates, and Sydney sat back in Matt’s lap as you took the seat beside Mat on the opposite couch. You noticed how he immediately leaned back and comfortably stretched his arm across the cushion behind you, and you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t inch a little closer then. It briefly occurred to you that you were drawn to him in the very same way you’d been drawn back home not long ago.

He felt like home. Already.

And soon, after a few hours more of merrymaking, Mat never leaving your side, the other couples had all headed for home. You four who remained had played several rounds of euchre and sang and danced to half a dozen Christmas carols before you realized how late it was. Knowing you’d had too much rum and wouldn’t be fit to drive, you’d already established that you’d stay in Sydney’s guest room — or maybe kick Matt out of the master. Regardless, you were staying put. But Mat, reluctantly, was leaving — the boys had practice in the morning.

“I guess I should go,” Mat sighed after a long round of goodbyes. Matt and Sydney gave him one last hug and retreated to the far side of the spacious room, aiming, of course, to leave the two of you to your own goodbye.

You nodded. “I guess you should,” you said, caught off guard by the twinge of sadness in your tone. “I’ll walk you out.” Mat smiled and turned toward the front door, and your heart truly may have skipped an actual beat when he glanced back at you and reached his hand out for you to grab. You did so, biting down on your smiling bottom lip as you followed him down the hall into the entryway, acutely aware that, if Sydney and Matt were indeed watching — of which you had no doubt — they could still clearly see you.

But when Mat pulled on his shoes and stood up straight again, stepping slowly, so slowly, closer to you, all you could think about was how hard your heart was thumping against your ribcage. You looked up at him in anticipation, and he smoothed his hands down the sleeves of your sweater softly.

“I had a really, really nice time tonight, you know,” Mat spoke. You had to remind yourself to breathe as the sincerity of his voice flooded your senses and his warm, honey-flecked eyes pierced through you. “Tonight was honestly the most fun I’ve had in a long time.”

You beamed — how could you not? “Yeah?” you asked incredulously. Mat nodded.

“Yeah. In fact,” he cleared his throat. “I was wondering if maybe, uh, you’d want to go to dinner with me sometime. Like maybe this Sunday night, after we play?”

You felt yourself grinning like an idiot, yet had no control.

“Yeah,” you finally answered. “Yes. Of course. I’d love that.”

Mat blew out a long breath and chuckled nervously. “Thank God,” he added as you both dissolved into a fit of giggles. You stepped closer to him and smelled his clean, woodsy cologne, inadvertently breathing it in. Mat came nearer, too, and tentatively reached his hands around to your lower back. “It’s a date then,” he spoke, his voice lower now, gravelly. You swallowed — hard — and gave a nod.

“It’s a date,” you echoed.

You simply stood in one another’s presence for a few long moments, smiling giddily at each other, before Mat sighed once more and glanced toward the door.

“I really don’t wanna go, but I—“

“No! Syd, just leave them be,” Matt suddenly whispered sharply to his fiancé — who seemed to have literally leapt up from the couch — though there was no point in whispering at all because you still heard him loud and clear. Jumping up behind Sydney, Matt easily wrapped her in his arms and clapped his hand over her mouth just as she started to speak.

After wrestling for control of Matt’s hand, she finally pulled it away just long enough to call out, “You’re under the mistletoe so stop stalling and just kiss already!”

With one final “shush!”, Matt covered her mouth once more, though his entire body was wracking with silent laughter.

“Goodnight, kids!” Matt said tersely as he all but manhandled Sydney down the opposite hallway into their bedroom, the two of them erupting with laughter the second they closed the door.

You rolled your jaw and looked above you and Mat to find that, yes, indeed, there hung a very Sydney-like crystal ornament adorned with glittery mistletoe, suspended from the archway.

“Un-fucking-believable,” you muttered, resting your head against Mat’s chest as you both laughed anxiously.

But a moment later, Mat’s voice rumbled in his chest. “Hey...” he spoke. You took that as your invitation to look up at him, and when you did, you found him gazing at you even more tenderly than he had before.

“I mean, since there’s mistletoe and all.. would it be okay if I kissed you?” he asked. His hand found your cheek and you grasped his fingers in your own.

“Well,” you began, leaning further into him. “Only since there’s mistletoe.”

Mat breathed a chuckle and whispered, “Okay, good,” before his lips found yours in a toe-curling, snow-melting, heart-growing, hell of a Christmas movie kiss that you both found yourselves smiling into by the end.

“Wow,” was somehow all you could whisper when you finally pulled away for air.

“Yeah,” Mat agreed simply. “Wow.”

“It worked!” You heard the muffled squeal from behind Sydney’s closed door.

You rolled your eyes once again, hating Sydney in that moment, as Mat snickered and leaned in for another kiss.

Little did you know that a few years later, your dear, meddling Sydney would stand up at your side in front of a ballroom filled with your and Mat’s family and dearest friends and proudly tell the story of that cold late-December night when your love story with Mat began.

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the-settingsun · 3 years

Text

Chrollo Lucilfer NSFW alphabeth

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Chrollo is extremely gentle with you during aftercare, he tends to be pretty rough so after you two finish he focused all his attention on you. He will clean both of you with a towel first and then run you a bath, while you wait for it to fill he will sit beside you and just quietly carres your arm with his thumb.

After the bath is filled you both get it and just lay in each others arms before drying off and getting dressed again.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favorite bodypart on himself is his chest. He loves to see you falling asleep while you lay on his chest. It allows him to play with your hair and look at your face while you sleep.

His favorite body part on you are your hands. He loves to intertwine his fingers with yours when he makes love to you. But when he is downright fucking you he loves to see you struggle when he pins them above your head.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He either finishes inside of you or on your lower belly, but he generally prefers the latter. However he loves to see you out of breath, sweaty and dripping with his cum.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Once when you were trying bondage for the first time he managed to get a picture while you were blindfolded. He keeps that picture in his phone for a particular reason.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Chrollo Lucilfer knows what he is doing. He didn't have many sexual partners in the past but he knows what to do to make you melt under his touch.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Any position wherr he can see your face, even better if he is the one on top.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

No, not at all. If you try to joke around too much he will stop because he will feel that you're not taking his efforts seriously.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He is likes to keep it clean down there, soemtimes that isn't an option with his busy schedule but most of the time he is shaved clean.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Chrollo's picture is right next to the definition of romance. He is extremely romantic and even if there isn't an anniversary or a special date coming up he will prepare as much as he can. For example, candles, rose petals, fancy dinner, towels for cleaning up afterwards, and so and so. Even if you two were just cuddling or relaxing at home beforehand he will shower you in words of affirmation "You looks so pretty like this my love" or "Let me show you how much I love you" he will gently caress your body and prepare you before actually doing the deed. He'll make sure you are comfortable and ask if it's okay for him to put it in. He always kisses your neck and hold your hand during the intercourse.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Simple, he doesn't. If he miss you he calls you or looks at that one illicit picture he has of you. Besides why would he jack off if he can just ask you and return the favor later?

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Bondage, slight temperature play and choking. Chrollo loves seeing your wrists tied together, he loves to see you struggle again your restrains as he overstimulates you. He loves seeing your body react when you're blindfolded. He likes taking ice cubes and circling your sentive spots with them.

If he is feeling more stressed and he is going rough he will degrade you. He uses isults such as "You needy bitch tell he how muh you want this cock. You dont deserve it, let me hear how much you want it" but he always feels like he did something wrong and apologizes during after care or immiedetaly after he says it. There have been times when he realized he was too harsh and had to stop.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

His bedroom. He has a giant penthouse, he doesn't get to visit so often but even so he has a luxurious bed, giant windows that provide beautiful and breathtaking views of the city and a mirror that takes up quite amount of space in the room. He will take you anyway but he prefers did to fuck you against the windows because he likes how the cold glass gives you goosebumps on your skin.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

When you are dressed up. If you and him attend a formal event he cannot keep his hands to himself. Because your relationship is a secret, he will glance at you from the other side of the room. But as soon as you to escape the public eye the night it's more magical.

When he sees you fight. He loves to see the flame in your eyes as you work towards your goal of defeating someone. Because you are a member of the Phantom Troupe and he is the leader, he gets to see you fight very often. This means that the aftermath of your fight is either a warm night of cuddling or rough lovemaking.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

A threesome. He hates the idea of someone else touching you, and after a talk with you you both agreed that a threesome is something you're not interested in and will never bring up again

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He prefers recieving. He can get very vocal too, moaning and cursing under his breath. He grabs your hair and holds it behidn your head like a ponytail so you could access his dick better. Words like "Fuck, princess you're doing so well" will come out his mouth while he sucks air through his teeth. He doesn't force you to swallow and would rather come on tour chest.

While he prefers recieving, he is very skilled in giving. He spends considerable amount of time between your things, kissing them and leaving marks before moving onto the actual thing. Chrollo has a big nose and it usually rubs along your clit in the rhytm he is pleasuring you, adding more stimulation. Whenever Chrollo gives you oral you are on cloud nine.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He is either slow and sensual or fast, rough and merciless. Even if he is rough he will try to avoid hurting you too much and attemps to hold back, but when you scream out his name something just snaps and he can't stop himself.

Most of the time he begins slows and gradually becomes more rough. There are times that he truly worships you like your birthday or during comfort sex. Either way he is very understanding.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He doesn't like them. The only time you have quickies is when you hadn't been with each other for a long time and you know that you have to part ways again soon.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Yes, it is willing to try anything once. As long as both of you properly research what you want to try, he is willing to try it out even if he thinks it's not something he will enjoy.

No he doesn't like to take risk if it means that you could be caught. He is a very private person and he thinks that sex should be should be happening behind closed doors. Plus he hates the idea of someone else seeing you when you're this vulnerable. He's a very private person about your relationship in general and it is still a secret which means that the getting caught situation applies both to the overall relationship.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He usually goes for two rounds but you know he can last longer. He doesn't want to overwhelm you so he's holding back, but if you say that you don't want him to hold back then you're in for a long night.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Besides a blindfold, ribbons, and handcuffs he doesn't own an anything. He finds no use for it.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He doesn't like teasing and he doesn't like to be teased which means that teasing is not a thing you do in the bedroom. However he really liked sport play and if he has the time he will put a blindfold on you and spend 20 minutes just worshipping and kissing every inch of your body.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Chrollo is pretty vocal. He will swear under his breath, grunt and moan. He will purposely lean closer to your ear and immiedetaly after follow up with sentences such as "Look what you're doing to me" or "Princess you're so perfect, just for me"

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

After you two moved in together into his penthous he bought a mirror that is placed above your bed, so when he is feeling extremely dominant he will grab your neck and force you to wath your own reflection as he fucks your brains out.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

7.7 inches AND he knows what he is doing.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Below average. He can go a long time withouth sex,but once you two are reunited it is a long night for both of you eince you can't get enough of each other.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He never falls asleep before you, even if he came home late or if he has to leave early the next day. He will either read, cook or practise nen until he is sure you are asleep and he can go to sleep too.

#chrollo lucilfer #chrollosmut #chrollo #chrollo x reader #chrollo smut #chrollo hxh #hunter x hunter #hunter x reader #hunter x 2011 #hunter x hunter x reader #phantom troupe #phantom troupe x reader

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ciggylungz · 4 years

Text

Benefits

Rivals blurb: 2.8k word

Request: y/n & harry go to a bar and someone from harrys office flirts with her and he gets jealous

Work parties were never very exciting, so when Y/n and Harry had a combined company benefit party at one of the upscale lounges in London she was hardly excited. Her publicist had decided it would be good to do it together to get more hype and press on it by proving even though their companies split years prior there was ‘no bad blood’. She only agreed because some of the profits were going to different charities and that gave her the stamina to stick out a work event, and well free booze was a plus.

She had just enough time to make a pitstop home to change into a formal appropriate cocktail dress, pumps and fixed her hair before making her way towards the bar. Upon arrival she could already hear Harry’s distinct fake laugh, her eyes rolling automatically knowing he was cheesing up to some rich beneficiary to milk as much cash out of them as he could. She headed straight to the bar, ordering a vodka soda with lime deciding she’d need a little help getting through the night If she’d be trapped with that prick in such an enclosed space.

After two vodka sodas she was feeling a good buzz, good enough that her uptight nature seemed to unravel enough for her to entertain the gentlemen who decided to start talking to her, joining her at the bar. He wasn’t too bad looking, typical business man look with a crisp suit and hair styled with some sort of product that made it stiff. He was well groomed and she had recognized him as one of Harry’s employees. Mark was his name, and as long as he kept her drinks coming, she was more than willing to keep chatting with the man. Seemed like a good trade to her, booze for flirting- a win-win for both parties.

“How old are yeh doll?” the man was giving her the typical flirty eyes, she’d typically cringe at how thick this guy was laying it on already but she was too tipsy to care. “ ‘m 23, you?” the man had a sly smirk on his face at that, rubbing his chin slightly before taking a sip of his whiskey. “I’m 46, props to you fo’ havin’ such a big company at your age. I was just getting’ coffee for asshole bosses when I was your age. A business woman is sexy you know? You like older men hun?” his game was truly weak, almost embarrassingly so for someone of his age. She questioned if he could be a 40-year-old virgin, or he was just a terrible flirt. Yet she answered truthfully, not caring much since she’d likely never see this bloke again. “Depends, been with ‘em before but it’s not a preference or anything.”

His eyes flicked over the expanse of her body, his smirk not dropping at her answer as he licked over his lips. “Oldest you’ve been with?” his question made her roll her eyes starting to get a little tired of him now, knowing full well he just wanted to bang her which wasn’t going to happen. “I don’t kiss and tell Marcus.”

The pair weren’t aware of the irritated glare that was watching their every move, reading their lips from across the room as they talked. Harry was the peeping tom in question, staring the two adults down with a strange feeling in his gut and a tingle in his palms- like he wanted to punch his employee but- why? It’s not like he had any real reason to, but still a flare of…jealousy crawled up his spine and burrowed inside the ripples of his brain. He had been in this position before, when him and the girl were younger and he’d see her makeout with another guy or her boyfriend of the time or when he’d hear them fucking in a neighboring room while a young Harry grew overly irritated at the fact someone else was feeling what he’d felt before. He was being immature he knew that, but he didn’t care as he marched over to the pair acting casual despite his mood when he leaned against the dark wood of the polished bar.

Harry rubbed his pointer finger over the wood, collecting a small amount of dust on the digit before tapping his knuckles on the wood getting the attention of the bar tender and the pair he’d been practically stalking since he noticed them together. “Gin and tonic please, love and another one of whatever Y/n had. Put it on my tab, thank yeh” he was always a polite guy, his mother truly raised him well in that aspect and it was refreshing for Y/n to hear the man talking to someone kindly instead of the usual bickering they partake in.

Y/n turned to him on her swiveling barstool, giving him a tipsy soft smile and nod in acknowledgement not noticing the side eye he was giving the man on the other side of her. “Hello Harold” she greeted him using the name she knew got on his nerves, his name was simply Harry yet everyone assumed it was a shortened version of the rather old-fashioned name typically tied to it. Yet, he didn’t bother getting irritated or retorting with something annoying no- his focus was more on the man he had an itch to fire at the moment. He managed to keep his professional nature regardless, “Evening love, hello Marcus what are you lot talkin’ about?” Y/n was more confused on the pet name he’d used towards her than about the harsh gaze he was sending toward the man on her left.

Mark seemed to sense the animosity, knowing his bosses irritated look very well. He opted to respond to his employer with an awkward chuckle a shrug added to it, “Nothin’ much, business and such. Was admiring how she’s runnin’ a company so young just like you. Would be lying if I said I wasn’t a bit jealous.” His free hand went up to scratch the back of his neck, sipping his drink to have a way to cover his nervous lips whilst Harry stared him down. Y/n was honestly a bit amused at the situation at hand, wishing she had some popcorn to go with her fifth vodka soda to enjoy the little testosterone standoff happening. She’s seen Harry get like this a couple times, so she shamelessly added fuel to the fire.

“Yea, and askin’ me if I like older men then following that up with askin’ the oldest man I’ve slept with. It’s been a very professional conversation H, no need to worry.” She knew exactly what she was doing, and she got the reaction she wanted when Mark nervously fiddled with his tie and Harry’s jaw clenched, the action still noticeable in the dim lighting. Y/n was tempted to laugh at the surge of tension she had just created, opting instead to sip her drink as she waited for what was to come next.

Harry straightened himself up, turning to look at the man with a raised eyebrow. “Oh really? That hardly seems appropriate for a work event.” Harry was trying his best not to show the possessive feelings he was having, rather opting for a reprimanding boss act to fit the occasion. “erm…uh was just some casual banter Mister Styles. Might have had one too many, wasn’t using my best judgement…I apologize Y/n” he was rushing his words, obviously anxious to escape the confrontation which Y/n found even funnier. Harry gave the man a curt dismissal with a request to see him in his office on Monday, and in true Y/n fashion she decided to add a second dose of fuel to the fire- calling out to the fleeing man- “The oldest was 54 by the way!” this of course made Mark scurry away faster and Harry lower his gaze to the woman before him with a irritated yet quizzical look.

“54?” his tongue darted out to lick over his lips, a sting of gin hitting the tip of his tongue from the drop lingering on his bottom lip. Y/n shrugged, crunching a rouge ice cube between her back molars while she nodded. “Vegas, tequila, he had major sugar daddy vibes and 19-year-old me was into it.” Y/n was always rather shameless when it came to sex, she’s been sexually active for the majority of her life so the shyness of talking about it left her long ago. Harry snorted slightly, shaking his head with an amused grin at the girl. “Naughty! you’re somethin’ else Y/n. I’m gonna tell your dad.”

“I don’t think his heart could take it, he did an awful lot of blow back in the day so I’d appreciate it if yeh didn’t do that sir.” She rolled her eyes, taking a subtle jab at her less than respectable antics of her filthy rich father. “Seems like you were doing an awful lot of a different version of blow to me.” the man smirked at his own joke getting a light slap on his bicep in return. “Shut up, I haven’t forgotten when you got gonorrhea when you were 18. You’re just as bad as me.” Y/n poked his ribs making Harry groan at the memory, “I got that treated you asshole. I’ve learned to wrap it before I tap it since then and be selective with what I put my dick in now. For the record, all my std tests have come back clean since so fuck you.”

Y/n gave him an innocent smile back, resting her cheek on her fist. “Is that an offer?”

The response wasn’t one Harry was expecting. Not by a long shot, he hasn’t been inside her in a little over a year so her response to his jab took him by surprise. His eyes immediately met hers, finding a curious glance coming from her orbs. Setting down his glass the man turned towards her, facing her completely before responding.

“If you want it to be.”

Y/n smiled at him, standing up from her stool to get closer to the man pulling him down by his collar to talk in his ear. “Your place or mine?”

After a painful ten-minute taxi ride, they’d made it to Harrys home. They were well aware of looming neighbors and press so they kept it professional till they were inside the four walls of the mansion- rushing up to his bedroom like two teenagers scared of getting caught. Anxious rushing of feet up the stairs hands struggling to stay to themselves on the way to the king-sized bed waiting for them.

After what seemed like forever, the pair burst into Harry’s bedroom the door hitting the wall with a loud bang as the man lurched forward to smash his lips against hers. It was frantic, sloppy and rough- it was fucking hot.

“you drive me up the fuckin’ wall you know that?” His voice was gruff, heavy with lust and jealous rage. Shoving the woman onto his bed with little care, he knew she liked it rough. A fact confirmed to him after he’d seen the rather violent bdsm porn she had saved to her computer and the various sex toys-including restraints, collars and clamps in a box in her closet 2 years ago when she moved into her current home and forced him to help her put everything away.

Y/n let out a small gasp when her body flew onto the mattress, kicking her heels off after she had settled with a smirk painted on her pretty lips. “Do i?” her tone way teasing, hands moving to unzip her dress while the man moved to stand before her yanking the fabric down her body to leave her in only a silk bra and matching thong, his eyes shamelessly taking in the sight of her body- intimate parts only covered with think sections of emerald green silk fabric.

“Ya know I didn’t appreciate you tellin’ that bloke about other men fuckin’ you, was rather impolite y/n.” Harry gave her a stone cold glare whilst tugging his belt out of the loops of his dress pants, tossing it carelessly behind him as the woman dove forward to work the button and zipper of his trousers undone. “Why? You jealous? Are you jealous because I let other men and women fuck me? Are you mad that you never get to taste me, fuck me and cum with me like they do?”

Y/n’s comments were soon cut off by a ring clad hand wrapped itself around her neck with enough pressure to stall her speech. “You never know when to shut the fuck up huh? We both know full well, no one can fuck yeh the way I do. Now, are you gonna quit your blabbering so I can fuck yeh or do I have to shove this skimpy excuse for underwear down that gabby throat? Hmm? Because I like to hear your dirty moans but I’m not a fan of this snarky mouth baby. Are you going to behave or shall I go have a wank instead?”

The pitiful whine accompanied by a pout coming from the woman made Harry’s cock twitch, she was so desperate for it and he had her right where he wanted her. He soon felt her hands pawing at his crotch, tugging the material of his tight dress pants down his legs before returning to pull his cock from the flap in the front of his boxers. It had been entirely too long since he’d held her small soft hands on his prick, watching with baited breath as her right hand moved to rid herself of the sorry excuse for undergarments she had on.

“Want it in, H please”

He obviously couldn’t say no to that, not when she was giving him those eyes and leaning back to show the web of wetness dripping from her slit onto the sheets below her snapping when she swiped her finger through it to rub on his already leaking tip. She had his head swimming, chest heaving and balls pulsing with every move she made.

The man tossed her body further up the bed, getting between her legs giving her no warning as he sunk completely in. The pressure and harshness of the thrust took her breath away, an overwhelming fullness almost uncomfortable as he gave her no time to adjust before driving into her beautiful body. The sound of her wetness clicking when coming in contact with his hips and filthy groans of pleasure filled the space, the slapping of skin harsh in their ears with every nailing of his pelvis into hers.

“This what yeh needed? No one else fucks yeh so good you can’t breathe do they? Got your face goin’ almost purple, feel my cock in your chest don’t you baby?”

His words were filthy, yet held truth. He pulled halfway out to give her a chance to take a few breaths, the dark redness of her oxygen starved face starting to fade to a flustered pink before he continued his rough ramming. Her nails pierced the skin of his tattooed arms, screams of pleasure rawing her throat when she felt her orgasm about to reach it’s peak.

“Holy fuck!”

Her exclamation was loud, filthy and drenched in sultry bliss as the knot in her stomach unraveled. She tried desperately to climb away from his hammering hips, the stimulation making her entire body feel like it was screaming yet his hands kept her pinned to the bed fucking her relentlessly through her orgasm.

“Fuckin’ hell! Cummin’ hard huh? No one else can make you cum like this, say it. Tell me baby, admit it”

His teeth were clenched painfully tight as he spoke, Y/n struggling to get her words out with the surge of feeling rushing through her nerves managing to ramble out the words almost incoherently.

“That’s fuckin’ right doll, only I can do this to yeh.”

Even with his body on fire, he held his cocky persona pounding into her a few more times until he jerked his hips out just in time to spill his seed onto her heaving stomach. Watching the ribbons of thick white cum paint her flushed sweaty skin, her body trembling from her orgasm violently while being painted with her ‘enemies’ hot cum.

The bed shook when Harry dropped down beside her, breathless and worn out. a proud smirk painted on his sweaty red face when he turned to the woman who was looking at him already struggling to remember how to breathe. Placing a smacking kiss to her swollen lips, a strong arm tugging her into his sticky side.

For the first time in a long time, they felt content in each other’s grasp. Making them both silently wonder if these feelings weren’t just lust, but something else entirely.

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