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toxicanonymity · 19 days

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DOMESTICATION

MR. GHOSTFACE x F!READER 🔪 1.8K WORDS SUMMARY: He has his way with you while you're stuck. WARNINGS: 18+ Noncon, unsafe PIV, knife/blood, collar. Inspired by this scene and ask 🔪 Divider 🔪 MY FICS

Down on all fours like the prey you were, you tore the cloudy, plastic flap off its hinges and began to squeeze through the little door. You thought to scream but choked on the air you drew in. With your head through the hole, you coughed and glanced around. No one in sight. Fallen leaves tumbled and scraped across the driveway over the muffled sounds of the party.

No one was coming to save you.

You managed to wriggle halfway out, but no further. In the process of trying, your skirt got all bunched up. The cool air of the garage was hitting your ass, and your lace panties with their heart shaped cutout were doing nothing to help.

He had to be enjoying this. Probably admiring his knife with a smug tilt of his mask. Why was he so quiet?

You stopped struggling, taking a moment to catch your breath and think. He should've caught you by now. Was there any chance he left the garage? Any chance he wouldn't kill you?

He didn't have a habit of leaving them alive.

When you began to struggle again, a weak motor droned awake, making your stomach drop. The garage door began to lift, and the bottom edge of it dug into your stomach. Your heart sank with dread. Within seconds you’d likely be dead or mangled. Seconds, IF you were lucky. The thought of him dragging out your demise was even worse. You had seen his crime scenes.

Your knees lifted off the ground as the door made its ascent.

“Please,” you begged, shoes sliding against the floor.

The garage door creaked as it came to a halt. Your feet pedaled in futility, searching for the floor. You lifted your chest, trying to wriggle backwards. The only way out of this cursed little door-–if there even was a way out-–led right to his knife.

“Please, please, I won't run. I'll be good,” you begged through tears.

Silence. Unlike him.

“I'll be good,” you repeated quieter. "Please, Mr. Ghostface."

The motor started again, and you winced. But the door began to lower, allowing you a moment of relief as your bare knees met the cool, smooth floor.

His footsteps got louder and clearer as he crossed the space. Despite being unable to see him, you knew his presence loomed behind you-–you could feel it in your bones.

Sure enough, two gloved hands gripped your thighs, lifting your lower body for a moment and spreading your legs before setting your knees down further apart.

He made a place for himself between your knees, spreading them even wider. The smooth fabric of his robe pooled over your legs with him between them. He ran his gloved hands up your torso from your hips to your waist, pushing your skirt up further so it was up around your navel. Then, two satin thumbs lightly brushed your skin, tracing the heart-shaped cutout of your underwear.

After a moment of rustling behind you, a gloved finger slotted between your panties and ass. He pulled the garment out from your body, then the elastic tension released with a slice of his knife.

More rustling. His movement made the robe graze your butt. You weren't sure if you were imagining the sound of his belt coming undone behind you, but the thought of it made your face heat up.

The heavy fabric of his robe lifted off your calves, removing any doubt about what he was about to do. You tried to ignore the way your pussy throbbed.

The smooth head of his cock nudged your entrance, then slid wetly along your slit, forward and back. You hadn't realized just how aroused you were until feeling cock glide so smoothly against your well lubricated cunt. The head lingered at your front, nudging just the right spot. Your hips tilted all on their own, and he paused before sliding back to your wet little hole, resting the curve of his tip just inside.

He gripped your hips and pushed forward, intruding into your tight, warm sleeve with his thick, hard cock. Inch by inch, his stiff manhood pushed its way into you, the pressure of his girth pushing the breath out of your lungs. He slid all the way in without much difficulty and paused after bottoming out.

You took a much needed breath.

The skin of your chest radiated warmth. Your whole upper body was hot, despite the cool air.

Your lower body was warm and stuffed.

Two big, gloved hands wrapped around your thighs, then lifted. Your body lurched forward as far as it could, then he pulled you back on him, bottoming out deeper before he let your weight back down.

You braced your forearms on the driveway and he moved his hands up to hold your hips. He withdrew most of his length then squeezed your hips and pulled you back again as he slammed all the way back in. This wasn't bad… he was slow, almost careful.

Almost as though he could hear your thoughts, he seemed to drop all restraint. He buried his cock in you at a steadily increasing pace. You were shaken by just how good he felt inside you.

You bit your arm to stifle your moans, but it was no use. He'd have to hear your sounds of pleasure, as humiliating as it was. You removed your mouth from your bicep, leaving a string of spit as you took a deep breath.

As you inhaled the night air, it smelled like someone was having a bonfire... Someone, somewhere had come outside. Maybe even the neighbors.

But you didn't cry for help.

It was as though the cock in your cunt had gagged your throat, paralyzing you. It couldn't be that you didn't want him to stop, could it? No, you told yourself.

With every thrust, it felt more like a lie.

The rhythm of his pounding made your breasts jiggle. Your arms and wrists rubbed against the driveway, but you hardly felt it. Any discomfort was drowned out by the pleasant stretch of his girth, and the grip of your pussy clinging to his length as it pushed through you.

You closed your eyes and went somewhere else, giving into the feel-good chemicals coming to boil in your blood. You couldn’t tell how much of it was the rush of survival and how much was his dick, but the combination had you hurtling toward the stratosphere. Full, you were packed full. God, it felt good. Even better, the more you let yourself feel it.

There was something freeing about completely submitting to his will. Letting him use you like a fucktoy. Giving in, letting him win, you could relax and let it all wash over you. With your body held in his hands and wrapped around his cock, you felt weightless. There was no longer pressure to fight back or flee. The only pressure was low in your gut, building toward something unthinkable. Closer with each heavy stroke.

You spasmed with a whimper.

He abruptly sped up to jackhammer pace, pushing you to the brink within seconds. You rode that edge for longer than you thought anyone could keep up that pace. You remembered to breathe, and then you saw stars. The hair on your neck stood up as you clung to the ethereal force that rippled through your loins. Pleasure shot through your core to each limb.

He slowed down as you clenched around him, then bottomed out deeper. It was like he’d created more space in you and packed it with more cock than you ever thought you'd take.

Until the warmth began to spread inside, you didn't realize he was coming. He had given no outward indication of it. You could hardly distinguish your throbbing from his, until yours faded and he was still twitching.

The grip of his hands eased up as he finished. He held you with your ass flush against his wiry hair, anchoring you. Plugging you.

After a minute, it started to feel colder outside. You felt more exposed, vulnerable, but still dared to imagine he might leave you alive.

One hand let go of you, and his robe shifted, brushing the back of your thigh. He pulled back your ruined underwear again. This time, he cut through the side and took it all the way off. Then, the surprisingly warm flat of his blade pressed against the side of your butt cheek. It slid up over the curve of your flesh.

Your heart pounded, reminding you to fear for your life.

The metal left your skin, only for the point of the blade to then prickle the center of your lower back. He held you still, and his cock twitched inside you as he began to draw blood.

You pleaded, “don't," but your insides throbbed.

A sharp, white heat followed the blade, curving upward, out, and down toward your crack. He repeated it on the other side to complete the heart. Your ears burned and pounded with their own pulse. Your inner ears began to ache.

Finally, his cock slid out of you, and after a moment of jostling, he got out from between your legs. Then, facing your side, his robe grazed your back as he hovered over you and grabbed hold of your waist. He tugged gently. You extended your arms in front of you and held them together as he pulled you back into the garage. warm blood trickled into your crack as you sat up. His gloved thumb smeared it upward.

Clear snot was coming out of your nose. You sniffed and he wiped that too, with a knuckle.

Holding his knife, he showed it to you as he stood up. He crossed the garage in just a few strides while you obediently sat back on your knees, adjusting your bra and fixing your hair.

He returned with his hands full.

Your face fell blank when you looked up to see a collar with a leash hanging off it. Your lips parted, but no sound came out. He tilted his head, then stooped down to reach around your neck and fasten the it. The arms of his robe created a curtain of darkness as he adjusted the buckle and tested the tightness with two fingers between it and your neck.

He stepped back, holding the leash, and tilted his mask, waiting. There was something else in his other hand. He clicked it, then tossed it aside as the garage door began to rise. He reached down and helped you up. Then, he walked you down the driveway and into the night, with a warm mess trickling down your thighs.

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thank you for reading 🖤

and tysm for your comments and asks 🙏the feedback and encouragement really helps me.

#ghostface smut #ghostface x you #ghostface ☠️#toxicanonymity ☠️#tw noncon #cw noncon #dark fic #darkfic #female reader #ghostface #tw knife #tw blood #ghostface x reader #divider by cafekitsune link in post #scream

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moonlinos · 7 months

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It would’ve been sweet if it could’ve been me

♡ Pairing: Bang Chan × fem!reader

♡ Genre: Single dad!Chan, friends to strangers to lovers

♡ CW: Explicit sexual content (minors dni!), mentions of parental guilt, themes of loneliness, Chan is stuck in the past, lying, mentions of feeling lost in life, story spans over a number of years, nipple play, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected sex, creampie

♡ Word count: 8.2k

♡ Synopsis: Being a single dad to Hyerin is all Chan has known for the past four years. He and his ex-girlfriend reached an agreement that saw her going off to live a life she had always dreamed of while he was left with a life of loneliness, which he endured with a smile on his face for his daughter. A small gleam of hope seems to appear in his life in the shape of you. But hiding himself under a haze of lies seems to be his only option if he ever wants to keep you.

♡ A/N: Based off a request by anon! Thank you for requesting, this was so much fun to write 🩷 I will admit this is a lot more focused on Chan as a character than I originally wanted it to be, and I kinda went a bit crazy with the plot, but I hope you still like it! The song Chan sings to Hyerin is Little Star by Standing Egg 💗

Every day in Chan’s life is a monotonous, never-ending cycle. Like watching reruns of bad TV shows on gloomy Sunday nights, every second of his past and upcoming days is etched into his mind like a quilt of mundane tasks and repetitive moments.

But that wasn’t always the case.

Once, excitement filled his every waking moment. His weekends were a whirlwind of new places teeming with bustling crowds and unfamiliar faces who became fast friends. During his university years, he and his friends lived their lives with ardor, savoring every moment as if it could be their last. His days were filled with an array of unplanned parties and impromptu trips which brought a kaleidoscope of color to his life.

Until he met Dana.

He was about to graduate, and she swept into his life like a hurricane — flipping everything upside down before disappearing just as quickly, with only destruction and ashes remaining in her wake.

He was infatuated; she was bored. That was clear from the start, but Chan was too blinded by affection to be concerned with such a minute detail. So long as he got to have her by his side, he was happy. Their relationship lasted a year, yet it changed his life forever.

He was twenty-one when Dana announced her pregnancy. On his twenty-second birthday, she told him she didn’t want to be a mother.

By that point in his life, Chan had already forsaken everything he had for her. He turned his back on his old friends, the vibrant life he once led, and everything that once made him who he was. Without Dana, he would be left with nothing but the ugly reflection of his self-destructive choices made in the name of a loveless love.

And so, they came to an agreement. Dana would leave — that had been her plan from the start, anyway — but she would leave Chan with a small piece of their story.

Hyerin was born on November 20th, 2019.

Dana left on a plane to New York City on December 1st.

Now, the only speck of color in his life is Hyerin. In the four years Chan has been lucky enough to be her dad, he has found she is much more than simply a reminder of Dana or what could have been between them. Hyerin is his entire world. She is the love he’s unknowingly been searching for his whole life, and he would sacrifice every last bit of himself to make sure she only ever knows happiness.

They live a quiet life, with Chan working a less-than-fulfilling corporate job and spending all his free time with her. He sometimes allows himself to wonder what happened to his old friends — did they all eventually settle for the mundanity of adult life, or are they still chasing an endless thrill? But he never dwells on it too much. The sweet memories of his early twenties are now nothing more than a comforting escape when the weight of loneliness becomes too overwhelming.

Today is one of those days. A late Friday night after his shift, Chan sprawled on his couch with Jisung, a co-worker who became his first friend after many years, a silly smile on his face as he reminisced about a trip to Jeju in his sophomore year of college. This is how he lives most of his life; when he’s not in the present with Hyerin, he’s stuck in the past.

How could he not be stuck in the past? So many people he loved and memories he cherished were there.

“I don’t get how you just left all of that behind for someone,” Jisung scoffs, loosening his tie. “Why couldn’t she just join your group of friends?”

“It’s complicated,” Chan sighs, eyes wandering toward Hyerin’s bedroom door for the umpteenth time to make sure she’s still sleeping soundly. When he turns to look back at Jisung, his expression prompts him to elaborate. “What? You want the whole story?”

Jisung shrugs. “It’s not like we have any other plans for tonight.”

“Well, there was this girl in my friend group. We hooked up a lot, but our relationship went beyond that,” Chan explains, fingers tapping his thighs as the memories flood his mind. It was a sore topic, one he certainly didn’t enjoy remembering. “We never dated, but Dana was jealous, and I couldn’t blame her. Me and this girl were… very close. I couldn’t be in a relationship while also being that close to her, but I also couldn’t imagine us being only friends. So it was easier to walk away.”

Chan conveniently leaves out the fact that he walked away because an artificial love strangely provided solace for his heart, unlike the searing torment of unrequited love, which engulfed him like molten lava.

“And that was the last time you ever had that type of relationship with anyone?”

“With Dana? Yeah—”

“Hyung, you know what I mean. You told me yourself Dana didn’t love you,” Jisung points out. “I mean this other girl.”

Chan shrugs dismissively. “I guess, yeah. Doesn’t matter, though.”

And Jisung scoffs loudly at his words, rubbing his forehead with a sigh. Memories of that love flood Chan’s mind, and he's ready to let them sweep him away when Jisung abruptly turns so he sits facing him, resolve swimming in his eyes.

“Give me your phone,” his loud voice reverberates through the small apartment, prompting Chan to shush him with a stern look. “Give me your phone,” Jisung repeats himself with a harsh whisper.

Chan rolls his eyes but ultimately smiles at his friend. He retrieves his phone from the end table, handing it to a much too enthusiastic Jisung. “The password is Hyerin’s birthday,” he tells him, albeit a bit apprehensive.

He watches amusedly as Jisung types away at his own phone before doing the same on his, handing him the device with a grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

“What did you do, you little menace?” Chan questions the younger boy, narrowing his eyes. Jisung simply shrugs.

“I got you a date tomorrow. Thank me later.”

Chan immediately sits up on the couch, eyes darting toward his phone screen. A chat with a single message from him to an unknown contact makes him question his entire friendship with Jisung.

Me: I’m your date for tomorrow 😉 Me: O’neul restaurant, 6 pm. See you there, cutie

“Jisung, what the fuck?”

“What?” His friend asks between giggles. “Sora has this friend she said desperately needs a date, and I have you in the same situation,” he explains, clearly proud of himself. “I just did you both a favor while also getting boyfriend points.”

Chan’s eyes shift toward his phone once more, inwardly cringing at the messages with a heavy sigh.

“And was making me sound this creepy necessary?”

Jisung waves his hand dismissively. “Nah, that was just a little treat for me.”

“And why the fuck is her name Mystery Girl?” Chan queries, the irritation making him unknowingly raise his voice.

“It’s a blind date,” his friend explains. “This girl’s apparently super picky, kept turning down every guy Sora suggested. So, she came up with this solution. Can’t turn you down if she doesn’t know what you look like.”

Chan groans, ultimately sinking back onto the couch with a defeated sigh. Jisung was trying to be a good friend, he knew that, but he wasn’t at all thrilled with the prospect of a date. Not only did he not want one, but he also had no time for such a futile thing. He had Hyerin, and she was the sole reason for his existence. He didn’t need anyone meddling in their little world. But he didn’t have the courage to tell Jisung that.

It would be a lie to say the past four years weren’t lonesome. Falling asleep alone in a cold, empty bed was a sorrow he had simply grown numb to. Yet, he still yearned to have someone to share the grapples of routine life with, someone whose presence alone would effortlessly diminish his worries, someone he could make love to before falling asleep and waking up intertwined.

But he couldn’t afford to have that.

At least this date was bound to fail; the woman’s demanding nature, coupled with Chan’s unwillingness to even be there in the first place sure to make their wasted time brief.

Just as he’s about to grumble about the messages again, Hyerin comes stumbling out of her room, her small feet shuffling against the floor as she rubs her sleepy eyes.

“Oh, honey, were we being too loud?” Chan asks sweetly, and his eyes discreetly shoot daggers at Jisung, who mouths an apology.

Hyerin firmly shakes her head, the crooked pigtails Chan clumsily had tied this morning coming undone as she does so. He smiles at her, propping his elbows on his knees and waiting for her to speak her little mind.

“I had a dream,” she mumbles. “With a dragon.”

Chan gasps, hands wrapping around her tiny frame and picking her up before walking toward her room. It took him some time, but he ultimately learned that it’s best to ease her back into bed while she’s distracted, lest she throws a tantrum.

“And was it a nice dragon?” He asks. Hyerin giggles, and Chan is positive that the sound has the power to light up even his most somber days.

“Of course it was a nice dragon, daddy,” she tells him. “You said I only have nice dreams ‘cause my mind is pretty, remember?”

Chan nods as he gently tucks her back into bed, triple-checking that she is comfortable and warm. “Of course, of course. How could I forget?” He slaps a hand on his forehead with a sigh. “Hyerinnie has the prettiest mind. It can only make up pretty things.”

Hyerin smiles at him, tugging her blanket close to her chin, her doe eyes already heavy with sleep and blinking languidly. Chan asks her the same question he does every night, although the answer remains unchanging every time: would she like him to sing to her? She drowsily tells him she wants to hear him sing her favorite song, Little Star.

Chan promptly gets under the covers beside her — Hyerin pouting and whining about how he’s stealing her blanket for himself, to which he can’t help the hearty laugh that escapes his lips. Since turning four, she’s developed quite a strong personality that Chan soon finds he adores, much like everything about her.

He turns on his side to watch her features as he sings; her nose and mouth so similar to his, and the way she furrows her brows while falling asleep mirrors his own habits. Chan might not be a happy man in his job or his personal life, but the boundless happiness his little gift provides him surpasses anything else he could wish for. Every now and then, he finds himself wanting more, but it’s not long before he realizes he already has everything he needs.

Chan goes over his rather extensive list of how to care for Hyerin with Jisung for the tenth time that evening, making sure the younger man knows what to do in any situation that could arise in the couple hours he’ll be gone. Hyerin is the one to usher him out of the apartment, assuring him she’ll be fine with her uncle Han, and Chan has to stop himself from wallowing over the fact that his once tiny baby is rapidly blossoming into a young kid.

He made no real effort to dress for his date; a simple button-up shirt and jeans served him just fine, seeing as he plans to return home as soon as possible. His date and he haven’t talked much at all since his initial texts yesterday, texting each other only to confirm the time and place of their basically forced date.

He arrives fifteen minutes late, all but running from the bus stop to the restaurant while cursing Jisung under his breath. This was definitely not worth the hassle, and Chan wanted nothing more than to be back at home with his daughter. He’d pick watching Tangled with her for the hundredth time over an unwanted date in a heartbeat.

Chan finally walks into the restaurant, informing the waiter that he’s there to meet Cherry. His face visibly grimaces as he mutters the words. Fuck this blind date bullshit.

He’s led to his table, dragging his feet behind the waiter. His attention is immediately drawn to the pencil holding his date’s messy ponytail together. He chuckles quietly, circling around the table and forcing out a smile to introduce himself.

But then he’s met with a sight he had long given up hope of ever seeing again: you.

You, who were next to him as he made stupid decisions during college. Like when he drunkenly thought it wise to bet his laptop in a game of beer pong.

You, who always made him your special hangover soup after a party. He especially loved it when you let him keep the leftovers, knowing that he and his roommate were hopeless in the kitchen.

You, who filled the space in his cold sheets with warmth and always made his bed feel like a sanctuary.

You, who let him make love to you despite you both swearing to be only friends.

You, who later had to watch him walk away from you like a coward, driven by sheer fear.

You, staring back at him with a stunned look on your face.

“Chan?” You ask, an unsure lilt to your words.

And Chan embarrassingly fumbles over his words, his tongue tying itself into knots in front of you. He notices you pursing your lips to stop from giggling and clears his throat a bit too loudly, a few patrons turning their heads to look at him. But he can’t bring himself to care, not when it seems the universe has turned the wheels of his fate in his favor for once.

“Uh, hi,” is all his brain can muster among the jumble of thoughts inside his head. He mentally berates himself for acting so damn awkward when you’re clearly not as affected by this encounter as he is.

“Damn, it’s been so long,” you marvel, eyes not leaving his face for a second. “I thought you moved to a different country or something. It’s so strange how we never ran into each other.”

Chan forces out a chuckle, hands now fiddling with the menu on the table. Of course you two never ran into each other; he only ever leaves the house for work or when he has to accompany Hyerin, and he doubts you frequent playgrounds or zoos.

“Yeah, I… don’t go out much anymore,” he simply says.

You hum, and he properly takes in your appearance. You haven’t changed one bit; from your hair to your choice of clothes, you’re still the same girl who ruled over his every thought during college.

You two order your food and fall into an infuriating cycle of small talk. Chan doesn’t want to talk about the weather or if you have seen the latest movie yet — he’s desperate to ask you how you’ve been, if you ever pursued your dreams, if you can still outdrink anyone in your friend group, and—

And if you’re still single because you find relationships a hassle.

But as the food arrives, you fall into an even more frustrating cycle: silence. Chan feels restless, squirming in his seat every few minutes while you calmly eat and watch the people around you. He remembers your habit of scanning crowded rooms and making up stories for strangers with your vivid imagination. He wants to ask if you still do that, but it seems he’s only grown into more of a coward since your last encounter.

You’re the first to break the silence, waiting for the waiter to leave with your plates to ask what Chan has been doing since graduating. It’s a casual question with no weight to your words, as lighthearted as you have always been. And the complete opposite of his every possible answer.

How can he tell you he’s given up music altogether, now surrounded by gray walls and lifeless faces in his corporate job? How can he tell you he’s alone most of the time, partly by choice and partly because he doesn’t know how to dig himself out of this comfortable hole he’s trapped himself in?

How can he possibly explain that he agreed to be a single father, sacrificing his own happiness for the selfish whims of a woman who never even loved him?

You’re still the same; the same carefree eyes and attitude, same easygoing approach to everything life throws your way — such as meeting him again after years.

All of him has changed.

Chan can’t tarnish your colorful life, can’t sit before you and spill out his problems or grumble about the overwhelming loneliness in his life when he knows damn well that was a consequence of his own choices.

He wants nothing more than to be the same Chan he was in college. Creating life stories for strangers in dive bars with you, not caring about whether he’ll have enough money to pay the water bill next month, not having to bear the burden of something as precious as a human life depending solely on him.

It’s selfish, but he wants nothing more than to go back.

So he does.

“I actually still write songs, though it’s only a freelance thing,” he lies. He hasn’t written a single note in years. “Other than that, I’ve just been taking it day by day. Same as I’ve always done, I guess.”

And your eyes immediately light up — you’ve always loved his songs, after all. Your conversation flows much like it used to in the past after that, with you making witty jokes and Chan laughing loudly at them. You tell him you started working as an art teacher for the elderly when living off of commissions became impossible, and that you adore the stories they share about their younger years. They remind you of your own stories together, you admit with a genuine smile.

Your conversation is endless, continuing even as Chan walks you to your car in the empty parking lot. The night has grown colder, and the crescent moon gleaming in the sky above him almost feels like a sign that things will change for the better.

As you two stand in front of your car, a smile tugs at the corner of your lips. Ever the free soul, you ask him outright if he would like to come back to your place. There are no further implications hidden in your request beyond a hookup. Nothing’s ever heavy with you, every little thing always feeling light as a feather.

He says he would love to, but quickly excuses himself under the guise of calling his roommate about the spare key. Chan hurriedly calls Jisung as soon as he turns a corner in the parking lot, ensuring you won’t be able to hear him. It’s juvenile, the way he’s actually taking pleasure in almost creating a different version of himself — a version much closer to who he was when you were his, at least in some sense of the word. He’s a father, he should be responsible and dependable, but the weight of that role had been thrust upon him far too abruptly. He can’t be faulted for wanting to go back in time.

“Okay, I have no time to explain,” he blurts out as soon as Jisung picks up the phone. “Would it be too much to ask you to stay the night?”

Jisung chuckles at the other end of the line. “Damn, was the date that good?”

Chan ignores his sly comment, because yes, the date was everything he never thought it could be.

“I’ll be back first thing in the morning,” he assures him. “I’ll even pay you if you want. How much—”

“Hey, no need for that,” Jisung cuts him off. “You know I love looking after Hyerin.”

And the pang of guilt inside his chest at the mention of his daughter’s name almost knocks the air out of his lungs. He feels ashamed, as if he’s neglecting his daughter for a hookup, going after a fantasy that has long crumbled and faded away.

“How is she? Is she okay?” He asks, guilt washing over him like a wave. He hadn’t thought of his daughter for a second that entire night. “Did she cry at all? Did she notice I was gone for longer than I promised?”

Jisung calls out his name with a chuckle, prompting him to stop his rambling. “Relax. We painted each other’s nails, she did my makeup, had her dinner, and is now sleeping soundly after listening to another one of uncle Han’s phenomenal stories about frogs,” He details, causing a hearty laugh to fall from Chan’s lips at the image of Jisung’s face painted with Hyerin’s cheap children’s makeup. His friend then adds, “Go get laid, man.”

And so Chan hangs up the phone, all but running toward your figure waiting by your car. You smile at him, taking his hand and pulling him into a tight embrace. It’s the first time he holds you in almost five years, and he feels his dull world away from Hyerin slowly fill up with vibrant hues.

It takes you less than fifteen minutes to reach your apartment building, and Chan is thanking any higher power that might listen for that. The sheer anticipation of what is implied to happen once you two are alone together has him picking at his cuticles until it stings.

He’s nervous, to put it lightly. A couple of terrible drunken hookups in dingy motels after office gatherings were his only sexual encounters after Hyerin was born.

But once you’re standing in front of him in your living room, your eyes never leaving his even as you’re slipping off your heels, Chan knows you’re both equals in this playing field.

He’s the one to pull you into a kiss, lips barely grazing against yours. But the feeling of finally kissing you again after so many years was like wildfire, consuming him wholly until the kiss turns feverish. His hand travels from your shoulders to your lower back, pulling you flush against his body. You hum against his lips, fingers clumsily undoing his buckle, and the prospect that you might be as eager as he is has him gripping the fabric of your dress.

Chan swears his vision goes black the moment your fingertips brush against his hardening erection, the feathery touch enough to make him sigh into your mouth.

A hand is pressed to his chest before he has the chance to think, and you’re pushing him backward until his back meets the wall. You immediately drop to your knees in front of him, leaning forward and nuzzling your face against his clothed cock.

“I missed you,” you whisper, hungry eyes looking up at him. “Don’t think I got to say that.”

Chan takes in the sight of you, memorizing and storing it in his mind alongside the countless images he already had of you on his knees for him. His fingers thread in your hair, your lips falling open with a sigh.

“I missed you too,” he professes. You have no idea how much.

With a smile, you quickly work his zipper open, pulling his jeans down his legs and pressing a wet kiss to his clothed erection. Chan feels your tongue lap at his member through his boxers, lips sucking around the head as your nails scrape the flesh of his thighs lightly.

It feels like you mouth at his length for hours, the light gray fabric of his boxers stained with your saliva and his precum, leaving Chan panting and tugging at your hair. You trail soft, wet kisses down his thigh while pushing his boxers out of your way, his cock already swollen and flushed. He’d be embarrassed for the way his body reacted so responsively to you if you weren’t also visibly as affected.

Your tongue circles his length languidly, lapping at a small bead of precum with a hum. Finally wrapping your lips around his tip, your tongue flicks teasingly beneath the head of his cock, Chan sucking in a deep breath and using his grip on your hair as leverage to pull you toward him. You almost obediently drop your jaw to slide his now fully hardened length into your mouth, your hand wrapping around the base as you begin to bob your head up and down his cock. Chan hisses your name when you relax your throat after a few passes, taking him fully into your pretty mouth, your nose brushing his pelvis.

“Fuck, you always looked so pretty like that,” Chan chokes out. “Pretty lips taking me so well.”

You groan at his words and the vibrations traveling along his shaft have Chan growling with a harsh tug of your hair, causing you to sputter as his cock hit the back of your throat. You seek purchase in his hips as tears prick the corner of your eyes. You’re unrelenting nonetheless, circling your tongue around him before pulling away, hands now sliding up his thigh before gently gliding over his balls. As you slowly lick from the base of his shaft all the way up to the sensitive tip, Chan’s gaze shifts down as he catches a glimpse of your thighs rubbing together. He feels himself twitch, and immediately pulls you away from him.

“Don’t wanna come like this, I need to fuck you,” he rasps out.

You stand back up, legs wobbly, and fumble with the buttons of his shirt while he slides your dress down your shoulders. Your movements are messy and filled with urgency, your breaths quickening as you both want nothing more than to strip away any form of barrier between you. Piling up five years of yearning will do that.

As your impatience reaches its peak, you tear open the last remaining buttons of his shirt, your nails grazing his skin as you slide the fabric down his shoulders. A wave of goosebumps travels across Chan’s body, and his hands abandon the task of removing your dress in favor of tracing the curve of your ass before picking you up off the floor.

“First door on the right,” you tell him, your words answering his unspoken thoughts as if you could read his mind. Chan nods, your proximity making it impossible for him not to press his lips to yours, tongue sliding over your bottom lip before licking into your mouth with a low hum.

He collides with a wall, missing the entrance to your bedroom by a hair’s breadth, and you giggle against his lips. Chan smiles back. Nothing’s ever heavy with you.

He lowers you onto the bed gently, his body instinctively slotting between your spread legs the way he did so many times before. You soon also wrap your thighs around his waist as you always did, pulling him closer until his cock is pressed up against your clothed pussy.

“Wanna ride you,” you tell him, grinding your hips forward and eliciting a quiet moan from Chan’s lips as he hastily nods. With a tight grip on your waist, he flips you both effortlessly.

Promptly sitting up on his thighs, you finally rid yourself of the inconvenient fabric of your dress, followed by your bra, your nipples instantly hardening. Chan sits up, eyes transfixed on your chest as his calloused thumbs trace the nubs before his lips circle around one, sucking harshly. As you gently roll your hips, he can feel the way your soaked panties cling to his skin as your core presses up against his thigh.

Your fingers tangle in his hair with a whimper, pushing his face into your breasts as he bites the sensitive skin. His lips leave your nipples with a wet sound, then trailing kisses up the column of your neck until his gaze is locked on yours again. He was dying to mark you, bite and suck on your skin until it blossomed into a beautiful maroon — but he knew better. You weren’t twenty anymore, and you weren’t his; in no sense of the word.

“I’m on the pill,” you tell him, eyes heavy with lust.

And he knows this is a terrible idea. This was exactly how he came to be a father.

But it’s not his mind that’s doing the thinking, and so he nods, his grip on your hips tightening as you pull your soaked panties to the side just enough to slide the swollen tip of his cock against your slick folds. Chan sucks in a breath, fighting a war against his own body not to come from this feeling alone. It wasn’t just how long it had been since he was with someone, it was you. It was all you. The effect you had always had on him having never faded, simply laying dormant until his body had you again.

Chan rests his forehead on yours as you slowly sink down on his length. His lips find your neck again, gently sucking the skin into his mouth as you slowly grind down on him, a whine falling from your lips and going straight to his cock. His hips buck up unwittingly, causing you to moan loudly in his ears. But your slow pace remains, and Chan knows he should savor this moment, but he wants nothing more than to fuck you into the mattress until he forgets every minor issue aggravating his brain.

Such as the fact that he knows you will leave his life again the second you find out he lied to you.

So his hands find your waist and he flips you down onto the mattress once more. His eyes bore into you as you suck in a breath.

“Fuck me,” you plead, hips grinding into his cock again. “I want it, please—”

Chan doesn’t waste another second, retreating only to plunge back harshly into your cunt. He moves with deep strokes, hips falling into an erratic rhythm, your nails digging into his back as your thighs clenched around his waist. All he can hear is static and your choked moans as he presses you into the mattress.

“Missed this so fucking much,” he groans against your ear. And finally succumbing to his desires, he bends down to suck and nibble on the delicate skin of your neck, mind too focused on how your walls squeeze around him to worry about marking you. He laps at the small bruises he leaves behind, your fingers tangling in his hair as you mewl.

You roll your hips, matching his rhythm, and Chan feels a familiar heat rise within him. He reaches down to glide small circles around your clit, your body jolting and squirming. He absentmindedly smiles against your skin.

After an entire night of pretending his life was the same as it was five years ago, fucking you required no acting.

“It’s too much, fuck,” you whimper, tugging him by the hair until your lips are crashing together in a sloppy kiss. Your walls tighten around him, body clenching as the tension finally snaps, your orgasm coursing through your shaking body as Chan growls into your parted lips.

He keeps fucking into you, until his hips meet yours one last time, and a low groan reverberates through the room. His cock twitches inside of you as his body stills, filling you with his warm release which leaked out of you and onto your sheets as he pulled out with a sigh.

Chan throws himself onto the mattress, labored breaths leaving his heavy lungs. He pulls you into his arms, and you melt into his embrace as if it were a habit. It’s as though he’s gone back in time, even if temporarily.

He feels like he’s simply a guy making love with the girl he adores in the familiar comfort of his dorm room again.

When the first rays of sunlight seeped into your room, Chan was already awake. He watched as you slept, eyelids fluttering and a small smile adorning your lips.

It was as if you were his, in every sense of the word.

Guilt.

That’s what Chan feels every time he sees Hyerin’s laughing face on his phone’s wallpaper when he’s out, entertaining the silly lie he crafted.

It’s been two months since you reconnected and you effortlessly slipped him back into your life. The reunion with his old friends was expected — but Chan dreaded it, regardless. He found that out of the nine people that once comprised their group, only five remained. He wasn’t the only one who had gone his own way.

But he was the only one who had done it in the worst way possible, carelessly ghosting every single one of them, hoping his existence gradually faded from their memories.

That made facing his once best friend frightening. Minho was the first friend he made on the very first day of university, when Chan walked into his dorm room only to find he had snuck his cat into the building.

They were roommates for two years, and best friends for four. Chan complained loudly when he was assigned a new roommate. Minho was silent as he watched his best friend turn his back on him with no explanation.

Minho initially ignored him entirely, and Chan doesn’t fault him. When his vibrant face turned cold upon seeing him walk into a bar, Chan knew he earned that the moment he decided to ignore his friend’s every text message and phone call. When Minho made backhanded remarks about how nice it felt to have him back in their group, he knew he deserved it for not answering the door the only time his friend came looking for him.

It takes a drunken argument leading to a fist colliding with Chan’s cheek for Minho to finally address him. It takes them being escorted out of the bar by security for them to finally have a conversation, tears and resentment flowing freely as they sat at a bus stop late at night. After that, their friendship returned to what it was before, as if they had never been apart even for a second.

Despite the years and the changes, Minho was still his best friend — which was why he was the only person he came clean to.

Hyerin loved Minho, especially his cats. Her new favorite pastime quickly became going over to his house to play with her new ‘friends’, as she called them. And Chan was overwhelmed with happiness to witness his best friend falling under his daughter’s spell — his house now containing its very own box filled with every toy Hyerin mentioned even once, his kitchen stocked with all her favorite foods, and his cats falling asleep beside her anytime they came over to visit.

It was as if he was watching his two worlds collide. His past and present, which he had separated out of a senseless fear, intertwined so effortlessly it made him feel stupid for ever thinking he needed to build this barrier. For assuming the people he loved so much would reject him.

Made him feel even worse for walking away in a futile attempt to protect his feelings, because it only resulted in more hurt.

After so much of his time spent wondering, Chan finally has the answer to his questions. Some of his friends did settle for an ordinary adult life, some already married and some focusing their energy solely on climbing the corporate ladder. Still, some remained relatively unchanged — much like you did.

His social life blossomed again after reconnecting with his old friends. However, he still refused to hire a nanny, too fearful to leave Hyerin to a stranger’s care, resulting in constantly having to come up with excuses when his parents aren’t able to babysit. He won’t deny that he often fabricated these lies purely because staying in with his daughter and watching Tangled now outweighs any appeal of noisy nightclubs.

Jisung remained his salvation whenever he wanted to spend the night at your place, with Chan slowly but surely running out of reasons as to why you can’t go to his apartment for a change. He hasn’t had the heart or the courage to tell you the entire truth yet, only owning up to his lie about his job after you understandably asked him to listen to his new music and he was put on the spot.

Ever since you walked back into his life, he finds himself weaving a web of little white lies that slowly chip away at his heart.

He’s at a small gathering for his friend’s birthday, listening to Minho all but eulogize his fiancee. They have been a couple since university, Chan playing the wingman and encouraging his friend to finally do something about his crush (mostly because he couldn’t handle any more of Minho’s whining before going to sleep). Despite what everyone around them surmised, they beat all the odds and statistics and stayed together even after university. Chan would be happier about that if he hadn’t bet money on them breaking up before graduation. He wonders if Hongjoong will ask for his twenty bucks now that they’re friends again.

“No, really, settling down with someone is so good,” Minho says after another shot of Soju, a silly smile etched onto his lips. “I thought I would hate it, y’know? Thought slapping such a significant title on our relationship would wear it down, but it’s the complete opposite. Ever since she proposed, it’s like we’re two love-struck nineteen-year-olds again.”

Chan smiles, saying they should drink to that purely because he hopes the sensation of alcohol burning his throat will numb his overwhelming jealousy. After congratulating Minho for the umpteenth time, he finds himself listening to yet another story about his relationship.

And he’s happy for Minho, just as much as he’s happy for Wonwoo for getting married last year. He couldn’t express the overwhelming joy he felt upon discovering these people, who once meant so much to him, had successfully navigated their way through life. But envy rears its ugly head every time he listens to one of their stories, because Chan’s direction in life seems to be a winding road. He’s a father, and his love for Hyerin is immeasurable, but he’s still actively lying about this side of him simply because he feels as if maybe he made the right choices in life at the worst possible time.

As he’s walking out of Hongjoong’s apartment with you later that night, he wraps an arm around your waist, a smile spreading across his face when you nestle closer to him. You two discuss Wonwoo’s marriage, with you talking about how beautiful the ceremony was, but ultimately scowling at the mere thought of getting married. Chan feels the corner of his heart crack at your words, but he laughs it off.

“Do you think he wants kids?” he wonders aloud.

He expects you to laugh at his sudden curiosity. He doesn’t expect you to dig at the fissure in his heart with your words, causing it to shatter completely.

“Gosh, it’d be so weird to see.” You cringe, snuggling deeper into his arms as a chilly breeze brushes against you two. “I like kids, but I’d never have them myself. Feel like it’d kinda ruin my life.”

Chan feels his grip on your waist loosen.

“Having kids doesn’t ruin your life,” he reasons. “You’re given the chance to care for something so precious, so important to this world…” he trails off, shaking his head and taking a step away from you. It feels as if exasperation has filled his entire being. “You look into their eyes and see yourself, and it’s— the love you feel when you first see them is so pure and earth-shattering that you can’t think of anything but how to make that tiny being only experience the good in the world. It doesn’t ruin your life.”

You eye him with confusion, cocking your head to the side and huffing out a laugh. “You talk like you know what that’s like. If you ever have kids one day, then you’ll know—”

“But I do know,” he’s yelling before he can stop himself, his footsteps coming to a halt. “I know because I have that. I have that and it’s the most precious thing in my life and yet I’ve been taking it for granted. And for what?”

He scoffs bitterly, his gaze fixing on your features; your flushed cheeks and slightly smudged lipstick, the way your puzzled eyes gleam under the moonlight. He shakes his head.

“For childish illusions. The illusion that I could go back in time if I pretended hard enough, the illusion that this romanticized idea I have of my early twenties was superior to the life I have now,” Chan lets out a heavy breath, averting his gaze to the pavement. “The illusion that I could ever have you.”

“So it’s my fault you chose to lie about being a dad?” You blurt out.

He doesn’t lift his head. He can’t, the burden of guilt and shame weighing too heavily on his shoulders for him to face you.

“It’s my fault. You were simply the catalyst.”

“What do you even mean?”

“I mean I’ve always felt this way,” he exasperates, finally lifting his head but keeping his gaze anywhere but on you. He’s a coward. “I’ve always felt like maybe I was too young to be a dad, too immature to fully understand the consequences of the choices I made. I don’t regret my daughter, but I certainly regret the timing, and this haunts me every day. Meeting you again just made these feelings worse because you represent everything about my past that I no longer have.”

You remain quiet for a beat, but it feels like an eternity as Chan is forced to endure the deafening ring of your silence.

When you finally speak, your voice is unsteady. “You know, that’s why I always figured it was for the best that you left.”

“What?” Chan turns his gaze toward your face at last, your words stomping on his scattered heart one last time. He expects anger, but sorrow has taken over your expression, one so heavy he doesn’t recall a single moment in the years he’s known you where he’s seen you like this.

“You were always like this, Chan. You might think you were a different person back then, but you said it yourself,” you shrug with a sullen chuckle. “It’s only an illusion.”

He hums, nodding his head as it dawns on him. “You were never gonna be mine, were you? No matter what I did. I lied to you because I thought you would never want someone like who I am today. But I guess that was all in vain, ‘cause I’ve always been like this.”

“You always talked about getting married, settling down, having kids.” As you run a hand through your hair, an exasperated sigh falls from your lips. “You went along with our bullshit, but even back then, you were always like the dad of our group. This has always been you, Chan, but that’s not a bad thing. Don’t think you need to change or lie about who you are ‘cause you’re the most amazing man I’ve ever met, but…”

He scoffs. “But?”

“But we’re too different. We’ve always been. We’re great together in every way but the way you want us to be — the way I would love for us to be as well,” you simply say, offering him a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“And would it kill you if we tried? ‘Cause this unfulfilled hope has been killing me since I first fell in love with you.”

“What’s her name?” You simply ask, avoiding his question altogether. Chan furrows his brows. “Your daughter, what’s her name?”

He shifts on his feet. “Hyerin.”

“I hope she knows how lucky she is to have you as a dad.”

Chan shakes his head. “I’m far from the perfect father.”

“Good,” you state matter-of-factly. “Perfect wouldn’t be you.”

You fall into a much lighter silence, although it’s still far from comfortable. A swarm of questions fills Chan’s mind, but his words fade into silence and die on his lips.

He knows everything is over when you suck in a sharp breath, muttering, “I can’t be what you need. When love becomes too serious, I feel trapped and run away. You know what that’s like,” you trail off. “I know we loved each other back then, and I know I still love you now, but I think it’s my turn to walk away. I’m sorry, Chan.”

And just like that, he’s left to watch your figure slowly grow smaller and smaller as you fade into the dimly lit street. You don’t reprimand him for lying or question if he also loves you still. You don’t explain why you can’t make an effort, probably because you’re unsure of the answer yourself. It turns out you both remained unchanged.

And after all this time, it’s only then that Chan realizes you were always just as lost as he was.

Chan didn’t allow himself to think much about you since he watched you walk away that night. He missed you often, as he had done for so long before your last encounter, but he had long grown numb to that feeling.

In the two years he was apart from you for the second time, he learned that life isn’t black or white. He could be a father while also being his own person; a son, a friend, a boyfriend. He learned that prioritizing Hyerin didn’t mean neglecting himself, as that would negatively impact her as well. She couldn’t only know happiness if her father was always dripping with sadness.

He learned he doesn’t have to choose between who he is now and who he was at twenty years old; they were both him, with certain moments bringing out glimpses of one or the other.

Hyerin started elementary school and is blossoming into a caring little girl, no longer needing Chan to tie her pigtails in the morning or remind her to brush her teeth before bed. Although she still demands that they maintain their nightly routine of lying together until she falls asleep to the sound of his voice singing her favorite song.

During his first parent-teacher conference — after walking into the classroom fifteen minutes late — he’s stunned to see you sitting across from him yet again, a pencil holding up your ponytail the same way it did that night at the restaurant. He couldn’t help the smile that spread on his lips.

You were Hyerin’s teacher. He recalled picking her up after her first day of school and listening to her gush over the art teacher who was so pretty and nice, and talking about how she wanted to be like her when she grows up.

It felt as if you were destined to find each other every time one of you chose to walk away.

Your friendship picked up again slowly this time — no rushing into bed together and no rushing into long overdue serious conversations. They had already been avoided for years, anyway, they could wait a bit longer. This is exactly what you needed; patience. Chan had never had the patience to wait for you, while you never had the patience to understand your own feelings.

It’s been ten months now, and he’s yet again sitting before you. The teachers and parents converse around you both as you sit in silence. When you think no one is watching, you exchange glances, struggling to suppress the silly smiles that insist on spreading across your faces.

As people leave the room one by one after the meeting, Chan approaches you.

“You’re Bang Hyerin’s father, correct?” You speak with a grin.

“Correct.”

“She’s an amazing kid,” you tell him.

He smiles, shifting his gaze toward his feet before his eyes find yours again as you speak.

“We could grab a coffee this weekend.”

This time, there are further implications hidden in your request. You’re not asking as a friend, like you’ve been doing these past months. Some things are heavy with you now, and this is something he’s only recently come to find. He’s also come to find that he loves that change.

So he answers, “Sure. Tomorrow at three?”

“Then I’m your date for tomorrow,” you say with a giggle. “See you there, cutie.”

And Chan lets out a hearty laugh at that, which earns him a scolding look from the other teachers in the room.

He isn’t sure what will come of this. Maybe you two are better off as friends and all it will take is a couple of months to figure that out. Maybe time has changed you both more than he can understand, and you will finally be able to try something real after all these years of unfulfilled hopes and childish illusions.

Either way, Chan knows he won’t let go of you this time.

He wants you to be his, in any sense of the word.

♡ taglist: @bloom-ings, @linocz, @farahia, @mirbokk, @jisunglyricist, @jazziwritesthings, @seungseung-minmin, @yourcvndx, @hynjinnnnnnnie @vlctorriaa @yongbokkiesworld

#stray kids #bang chan smut #skz smut #stray kids x reader #bang chan x reader #bang chan #bang chan x you #stray kids smut #skz #bangchan smut #bangchan x reader #bangchan x you

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ruleofheart · 12 days

Text

growing pains — ellie williams

ellie williams x f reader

fluff, angst, smut >O<

ellie if nothing bad happened to her ever, childhood friends to acquaintances(?) to lovers, longing, joel is involved, ellie is a DWEEB! but so are you, car sex, classic misunderstandings

to the lovely folks that asked to be tagged, i hope this meets your expectations… i am terrified of failing you: @macaroni676 @d3sperationn @g3latin

beta read by @heartofrhea my best friend my apologies for being cringelord

The universe can be so cruel.

You sit at the edge of the curb, curling your legs to yourself to feel less vulnerable. Your phone rolls in your hand, tears of frustration prickling at your eyes. You probably should’ve known better. Well— you do know better. That sinking, intuitive feeling had been swirling in the center of your stomach all night, but you had let your desperation and loneliness take ahold of you.

You had agreed to go out with some friends and some friends of friends; people you didn’t know jackshit about, but hung out with anyway. You had hoped you didn’t reek of seclusion too bad, feeling like a wounded animal in a crowd of predators.

But your friends and their friends didn’t really care. They had pulled away from you in the club, losing you to flashing lights and crowded bodies. You searched up and down, called their names in the dingy bathrooms, and even asked the bartender. No dice; you were here to party alone. Now what was the point of even coming along?

Silly.

You initially opted to order an Uber to just get the fuck off the street already, but hey— it’s a Friday night and finals are over. The prices listed cost more than six different coffee runs, and there’s no way you’d be giving those up.

It’s how you end up sitting on the curb and fervently wiping your tears away, cringing when you remember your hands had been touching all the club door handles and god knows what else. You feel dirty, forgotten.

You unlock your phone and dim the brightness— the stupid thing almost all out of battery— and turn to what seems to be a last resort, an option that you’ve buried away at the back of your mind for years now.

Pressing your phone to your ear, you can’t help but sigh as the line rings repeatedly, almost positive that you’re completely out of luck.

It falls silent for a second before there’s faint rustling on the other side, and a voice so familiar, so painful to hear, questions you softly.

“Ellie,” you say breathlessly; from fatigue or relief, you’re not sure anymore. “Can you come get me?”

Becoming friends with Ellie Williams was almost too easy.

That’s just how she is as a person. So easy to be around; her voice and twinkling laugh showing no threat.

It began with Mrs. Sullivan’s freshman class seating chart; a table of four with you, Ellie, and two other boys who were too preoccupied with copying off each other’s notes half the time for you to even remember their names. You mostly kept to yourself as a weird adolescent, the onslaught of teenage hormones and emotions forcing you into your own little world.

Ellie, on the other hand, was different. She had noticed the front page cover of Savage Starlight slipped into the front sleeve of your binder, the edges frayed and jagged as if you had actually ripped it off. She was almost offended at the sight of such a careless pull, but found the emotion wavering once she realized you read the comics just like her.

“Hey! No way!” she had exclaimed with a growing smile, her eyes lit up. She had half a mind to just reach over and take your binder, fingers skimming over the glossy cover. She stopped herself mid-way, mind racing before she asked with just as much glee, “Can I see? I don’t think I’ve been able to get ahold of that edition yet.”

Your short-lived conversations about Savage Starlight began to transform into lunchroom giggle sessions and bike rides on the way home. She was so easy to fall into; it was almost like she had a part of herself that was reserved just for you, eager for your arrival.

The thing about your dynamic was that it was so intricately woven over time, each thread of yourself intertwining with her own as you came to know each other better. Unabashed adoration and excitement with every laugh, with every moment of eye contact across the classroom and dinner table at home: a twinkle of unwavering youth and closeness.

And the thing was, when it came to you, Ellie was not prideful at all. She would openly admit any given moment that there had to be a hole in her heart that was in the shape of you. The two of you fit so nicely in each other’s lives, slipping into a familiar rhythm that almost seemed karmic, even at such a young age. While you were surrounded by other girls your age navigating their own pent up emotions and typical coming-of-age realizations, turning against each other and whispering dirty secrets, Ellie only seemed to cling onto you— hanging onto your every word with sincerity and trust.

It didn’t take long before Ellie began to invite you over to sleepovers, which was new territory for both her and Joel. He was already a little awkward as-is, navigating life with a teenage girl who had the same foul mouth and temperament as he.

So when you came around, greeting him with little smiles and kind language, he couldn’t help but feel his heart sway in relief, happy that Ellie has someone like you in her life.

You’d tumble off your bikes, leaving them strewn across the front yard, crushing the grass he labored so hard over. But he didn’t mind, relieved to see the two of you arrive in one piece, losing yourself in video game releases and comic book pages as you both sat in her bedroom.

Joel became a sort of fly on the wall for you two, ever-present as you were fairly comfortable in their home. Tuning the both of you in and out, listening closely for anything that may alarm him (which, never happened). Sitting across the both of you at the dinner table, serving up a quick and easy bowl of Hamburger Helper to you two. He’d glance at the two of you from under his eyelashes, watching how either you or Ellie would lean into each other as you splayed out homework sheets on the table, muttering to each other in curiosity. The two of you may have been better off sharing a single chair, he’d think to himself in amusement.

Again, your presence in Ellie’s life and in his home never worried him. It became routine for him as well, watching the two of you bike up the block together almost every day after school.

One hot summer afternoon, he stood on the porch, prying off the entrance screen door in an attempt to replace it, the critters from the greenbelt nearby winning at their efforts to nibble away at the material.

From afar, he could hear the growing sound of your chattering, your bike chains clicking repeatedly as you breezed down the sidewalk. He glanced over his shoulder, watching as you two fought amicably, reaching out to each other in a playful attempt to push the other off their bike. He chuckled to himself and turned his gaze back to the screen door, fingers prying at the edges.

Behind him, Ellie reached a little too far to the side, fingers brushing against your arm before she toppled over sideways off her bike. She collapsed with a laugh-yelp, swearing at you in a way that made you burst out laughing, your shoes dragging across the concrete to stop your bike.

You hopped off your seat, carelessly letting it fall to the side as you approached Ellie, laughing at her as she pushed herself off the ground.

“You idiot,” you breathed out in between laughs, nearly folding in on yourself as the incident repeated in your mind.

“Dude!” she scolded lightheartedly, trying to feign annoyance, and of course failing. She stuck out her arm to show you a deep scrape right above her elbow. “This shit burns.”

You caught your breath and stepped closer, eyeing the scrape. It was rather gnarly, and you inwardly winced at yourself knowing it was probably going to scab horribly.

“Damn,” you muttered to yourself, holding her arm and twisting it to get a better look. Joel eyed the way you two interacted, pulling away from his task as he glimpsed the bloody splotch on Ellie’s elbow.

From where he was, he couldn’t exactly make out the words that you two exchanged, your voices lowered significantly. From the look of it, you were offering an apology. He didn’t catch the way you smiled up at her apologetically, but he was positive that his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him when you leaned in and placed a harmless, healing kiss onto her arm, right above the scrape.

It was, in reality, lighthearted and childish. A testament to your playfulness, your eagerness to please Ellie’s heart.

And although Ellie didn’t realize it, there was a flicker of emotion that crossed her face. A change in her eyes; in the way that she looked at you. It flew over your head, too; busy smiling up at her, pulling her closer with the strength of the sun’s gravity.

But Joel noticed. He caught this sudden change, this glimmer on Ellie’s face. He felt the complexities of youth and new emotion washing over him again, a short chuckle leaving his lips as he turned away, focusing back on fixing the screen door.

Later that night, he pulled Ellie aside.

“Hey, kid. I’m gonna need you to keep the door open when she’s around, alright?”

“What?” Ellie asked, utterly oblivious. A look of distaste flittered across her features.

He was trying to remain as nonchalant as possible, knowing all too well that if he pushed too hard or looked too stern, Ellie would just defy him out of her own stubborn nature. He folded some blankets over the couch, eyes avoiding hers. “Just keep it open, Ellie.”

She groaned in annoyance and threw her head back, hands falling to her sides. She looked truly exasperated, confused with this sudden change in house rules.

That night, as the door remained cracked open, Joel walked by Ellie’s bedroom to sort some towels in the hallway closet. His ears picked up her frustrated tone; “…wants me to leave the door open now. Never heard of a rule as stupid as that, but whatever.”

You giggled calmly, then fell silent for a second. “It’s okay. My mom has that rule too, for my brother and his girlfriend.”

And he could almost hear the way Ellie’s face scrunched up, a confused groan escaping her again. She failed to reply, and the topic at hand was dropped as soon as you leaned over to her and showed her a page from a new comic, rambling on about how the plot hole in this series was diabolical.

He silently walked away, mind wandering as he tried to think about how to approach this blooming situation, a flicker of both hope and protection illuminating in his chest.

It was junior year of high school when the foundation of your friendship began to split, allowing something else to slip into it. Something sneaky, deceitful, something that constantly rendered you speechless and warm.

You no longer rode your bikes or shared comic books; you were much too old for that now! Ellie had just gotten her license, a little too eager to drive Joel’s old beat up truck around with you in the passenger seat. And, of course, the both of you felt like true teenagers when you finally got phones.

You sat on Ellie’s bed, your knees pulled to your chest as you scrolled through your timeline. You giggled at random collages of pictures and videos, occasionally showing your screen to Ellie in hopes that she would laugh with you.

She sat on the other end of the bed, a rolled joint held delicately in her fingers. Joel wasn’t home, and her bedroom door was closed. The walls of her bedroom trapped the both of you with the smell of it, but you were slowly learning to not mind it as much.

When you first received a phone, you found yourself diving into social media, trying to keep up with this sudden boom of a new language, new jokes, new form of communication. Ellie, on the other hand, never touched her phone. If she was using it, it was probably because she was texting you. She refused to engage with any social media at all, meaning you had to sit and explain new jokes and trends to her. Sometimes, she’d try her hand at new lingo or an ongoing joke, but failed so miserably each time that you’d roll over her bedsheets in laughter.

She pressed the joint to her lips, eyes lazy as she looked at you with longing. The brightness from your screen illuminated your face, emphasizing every beauty mark and freckle.

“Hey,” she started, voice low. “C’mere.”

You looked up at her in curiosity, putting your phone down. Your eyes stayed trained on her as you scooted closer, the sides of your legs pressing against hers.

She wasn’t sure if it was the smoke or the way that you peered up at her that made the center of her body feel warm. She tilted her head away from you as she exhaled, the smoke clouding the space between you two; your heart thundered in your chest.

“Almost done,” she promised, voice only a little raspy. “Missed you; that thing is hoarding all your attention.” The corners of her mouth twitched.

“Is not!” you defended, shoving her shoulder with your own. “I’m right here.”

“Yeah,” she began, her hand coming up to tap at your head playfully. “But you’re not here. Let’s do something; been wanting to play a few rounds of that old zombie game.”

It was how you end up pressed into each other’s sides, hollering and giggling at the tiny TV screen on her bedroom dresser. You played erratically, your fingers relying on nonsensical button smashing to survive. Ellie had to constantly revive you every five minutes, but never mentioned it.

She missed the way you squealed in anticipation with every new round that started, your eyes wide as you spoke with a constant smile. And, maybe it was from her high, but she was a little too intent in the way that she watched you, her mind feeling far away as she memorized every crevice of your face from the side.

“Ellie!” you scolded, bringing her out of her daze. “No way you already died, the round just started!”

She turned her attention back to the screen, scoffing as her player screen was black and white, her character eye-level with the ground.

“Damn,” she muttered, surprised that she let herself slack off for so long. Too lost in your side profile, the dip of your lips, the way your lashes fluttered in surprise when a zombie attacked you in-game.

Your character raced towards her, shooting around sloppily before you pressed the buttons to revive her. Her hand found itself on the top of your thigh, right above your knee. Perhaps it was the fogginess of her mind, or a newfound boldness that spurts through her; but she squeezed at your leg, her eyes stuck on the screen. “Thanks,” she says a little too nonchalantly, like that was completely normal.

You swallowed thickly, your own movements faltering. There was a red ring forming around your player screen, indicating that you were being ruthlessly attacked.

She snickered, her voice playful. “Focus.”

The two of you kept on, your mind instead slipping up and focusing a little too hard on the way she touched you.

It was senior year when that particular, sneaky something begins to widen the cracks in your relationship. A feeling that blurred your vision, blurred your mind. A feeling that made it impossible to correctly decipher whatever it was that Ellie was going through, and the two of you began to fall apart.

It mostly started when Ellie got a job at a skate shop. For the most part, it was relaxed, her days consisting of seeing the same people come and go for wheels and decks. But it meant that she had less time to spend with you.

Initially, she would use every single day off to see you. To invite you over or to laze around on your fluffy duvet, listening to you ramble about your nervousness as graduation was approaching. She would take you out, spoil you rotten with the excitement of her new paychecks, saying fuck all to saving any money.

And in reality, you didn’t care about the way she spoiled you; granted, it was nice and certainly made your heart beat a certain way, but you mostly valued that she made the effort to see you still. Exchanging silent words and looks across the classroom was no longer sufficing your yearning heart.

Months passed and Ellie started to become a little bit more focused on balancing school and work; she was set on saving as college approaches, and you figured that the prospect of growing up had changed her. She was set on a college, set on astrophysics, set on buying Joel some land and maybe, hopefully, spoiling you some more in a few years down the line…

But she was maybe a little too caught up in it. She saw you less and less, accidentally channeling her friendly energy to her coworkers. And while you knew there was nothing wrong with that, you couldn’t help the bitter taste that rested on your tongue when she constantly brought up the names of others that you’d heard of countless times. A part of you wanted to turn to her, ask her so pathetically, why can’t you do the same with me?

You started to really feel like you were losing her when you finally got the chance to sit in her room again, the both of you babbling about what you think college will look like. At first, the comfort of her poster-covered walls and space trinkets settled your restless heart, and you had felt at home with her again.

It wasn’t until she slipped away to use the restroom, leaving her phone on her bed. The screen illuminated as it buzzed once, twice— three times. You should’ve left it alone, thinking maybe it was Joel warning her he’d be late from work. But you leaned over anyway, reading over the text on the screen.

For one, it was a coworker. You recognized the name on the notification; and for some reason, when you realized it was from the only other girl at her workplace, a horrible feeling nestled into your stomach.

And then you couldn’t help the minor feeling of betrayal as you realized they had been messaging each other on a social media platform; one of the many things Ellie swore up and down that she’d stay away from.

You didn’t even follow her on there. She never told you.

It’s silly, you thought. Ellie can do whatever she pleased. But this new turn of events, this tiny thing that was still so out of character; the foundation between you two felt almost completely severed.

Weeks passed from that day and you them found yourself pulling away. The both of you were accepted into the same college, but you couldn’t even find it in yourself to feel excited. Ellie begged you to fill out your housing papers on time so that the two of you could be roommates, but you purposefully procrastinated. You weren’t sure you could handle such close proximity with her anymore.

It was with this that the gap between the both of you widened. She didn’t drive you home anymore; it was time to put your own license to use. You two no longer exchanged knowing looks across the room, and you sure as hell didn’t share dinner with Joel anymore, either. You started to forget the exact layout of her bedroom.

Graduation came and went; you spent it in solitude, not really counting the presence of your family members. Ellie did race up to you and gave you a bone crushing hug, nose burying into your hair, but you were so caught up in it all that you didn’t reciprocate it.

It was another one of those minor things that widened the gap, made her step away from you both physically and emotionally.

Even when Joel offhandedly mentioned that he’d be okay with helping you move into your dorm, Ellie made up some excuse on the fly; saying your brother had it covered. She hadn’t even asked you.

So, just like that, summer passed in a blink. You spent your days curled up in your bed, wallowing. Ellie spent it trying to distract herself, losing herself in the presence of coworkers-turned-close-friends. You shamefully stalked her social media, tears pricking at your eyes as she posted places and things that seem so fun, so far away. Places and things that you would’ve liked.

What hurt more was the constant questioning from your family. Where’s Ellie? What’s she up to?

Hell if you knew. You’d been relying on her story highlights for snippets of her life, and even then they were still so vague. Scenery, music, her guitar. Someone else’s hands holding a deck of cards, videos with incessant giggling in the background. God, you were almost sickly with both wanting and loneliness.

And, just like that, it was freshman year again. This time, there was no seating chart. No binder for you to slip comic book covers into. No comfort of hopping on your bike and riding home with the only person that matters at your side.

You were in some sort of emotional purgatory. Your mind blank as you walked around campus, as you stared at your laptop screen in the dead of night, body aching as you slumped over and completed your coursework. The excitement and late nights that you and Ellie had planned were nowhere to be found.

On the other hand, Ellie busied herself so much, she found that she almost forgot you. Almost.

Burying herself into her homework, mind trying its hardest to wrap around these new concepts. Partying, though she wasn’t not really there. Smoking some, drinking some. It all still felt lonely.

She was enjoying this new group of friends, but they didn’t amount to the certain someone that still had their shape, their initials carved into the center of her heart. It was almost unbearable to exist without you; the two of you blending into each other so well, she still found herself saying things the way you did— the intonation, the little lingo, the mannerisms. Your existence was embedded into her own, folding over into her psyche so compact-tight, she knew she could never escape you.

Ellie assumed that now, at this point, it was about carrying you in her soul even though you were no longer around. The beauty of this life; she’d lost you, but not entirely. Your personality reflecting in her own no matter what, no matter how hard she tried. Her existence was a testament to your own— someone’s been here. Someone’s loved me.

Weeks passed. Months passed. The both of you constantly shuffling across the same campus, yet never running into each other. Your text messages now buried underneath more recent threads, your shared playlist long forgotten and neglected.

Winter break hit and the loneliness bit just as much as the cold. When Ellie returned home, she noticed her old bike in the garage, propped up against storage bins, the tires flat. When you returned home, you came back to photos of the both of you, pinned to your wall. Your breath stuttered in your throat as you took them down, throwing them into a box in your closet.

At the same time, yet separately, the both of you traversed new grounds, and odd fucked up forms of grief. Being in your own space yet running into things that reminded you of someone that you wanted the most. And it wasn’t not like they were gone; yet the both of you let go, deciding that somehow, it was for the better.

The cycle repeated as the seasons changed. Instead of actually moving on, the both of you just somehow got better at repressing your emotions and acting like nothing happened. Occasionally reflecting on your friendship in a daydream, and then reminding yourself that somehow, it just wasn’t meant to be. It was time to move on— she was never yours.

It’s summer now, the end of junior year. Ellie’s at her friend’s place, sipping on a poorly made drink as they play card games and tune into a new season of a trending series. She’s cross-legged on the floor, smiling to herself as her friends talk over each other, slamming the cards down on the coffee table and trying to warp the rules in their own favor. It’s fun, and it’s easy to sit back and watch everything unfold.

She feels her phone in her back pocket vibrating; assuming it’s Joel just checking up on her, she gets up and excuses herself, slipping out the back porch door.

When she reaches for her phone, her heart nearly stops beating altogether. In fact, she’s sure it does, as her stomach suddenly twists in confusion and pain, a small cough leaving her lips as she tries to collect herself. Your name shines on her screen as you call, and she’s so sure she’s hallucinating (the hell was in that drink?) until she swallows her surprise and answers.

And there you are. Breathless, exhausted. Immediately, she knows. Despite it being so long, despite the fact that she’s not entirely sure she knows you anymore, she still recognizes the tone in your voice, recognizes that you needed her.

“Where are you?” she blurts before you can finish your sentence, her body automatically pacing around. “Send me the address.”

You’re apologetic, sounding defeated on the other side. You tell her over and over again, I’m sorry.

There’s weight behind the way you say it, like you’re apologizing for something more. Like you’re counting all those times you shut her out, the times you let her slip through your fingers. It’s weak and shaky, but Ellie doesn’t bring it up. She’s too busy slipping on her shoes, keys dangling from her fingers as she mouths to her friends that she’ll see them later.

She stays with you on the phone the entire time she drives over to get you. She asks, over and over again, if you’re okay and in a safe area, and your heart twists with guilt and shame. You stay planted on the edge of the curb, looking like a wilted flower.

Ellie feels her heart drop to her stomach as she approaches the street that you sit on, her headlights illuminating your pathetic figure. She rolls down the window and pulls over, calling out to you.

Your eyes are low, the shame blatantly evident on your face. Ellie’s not sure how this will unfold; this isn’t exactly the way she dreamed the two of you would reunite. But that look on your face— Ellie knows it well enough. You’re both 15 again, and you’re trying to hide within your own body somehow. She sees the embarrassment, the bitter feeling that sits at the center of your chest.

You approach her car and observe at her through the window, eyes avoiding her own. You study her form, how much she’s grown. She’s got a new haircut; it’s shorter— gayer. You can almost imagine yourself laughing at her, can almost imagine twirling the short pieces between your fingers. A patch of black ink catches your eye just then, your gaze landing on her forearm. Since when did she get a tattoo?

She unlocks the door, silently beckoning you in. You slump into the passenger seat, completely defeated, and she reads your body language well enough to know not to pry at the situation.

She shifts the car into drive but realizes that she doesn’t even know where you live anymore. The car sits there, idle as she tries to figure out what to ask you and how, then you mutter the directions to your apartment, reading her confusion just as well.

The sound of Ellie’s music is quiet, practically just a gentle hum as the two of you sit, rigid as you keep your gazes locked on the road ahead. You don’t intend to explain yourself or have some sort of emotional come-to-jesus moment with Ellie, figuring that this situation alone is already stressful enough.

But, she clears her throat and opens her mouth to speak, eyes still locked on the street signs. “You see the trailer for the new Savage Starlight adaptation?”

You give her an awkward chuckle. “Yeah,” you say, nearly whispering. “Looked like trash, honestly.”

Ellie laughs at that. Laughs. And god, it’s not the kind of laugh that kills her, but it’s a solid one; an honest one. It sounds so good as it erupts from her chest, the sound of it pouring into your ears and over your heart. Christ.

Your eyebrow twitches and you have to turn your head to look out the window— you can’t let her see the look on your face. You’re sure your eyes are wide and pooling with some sort of desperation.

And, of course, Ellie catches it. But she just cares too much about you, so she lets all these little thing slip by to keep you comfortable, to keep you with her for even just a second longer.

The conversation stays trained on little comments, acknowledging new video game releases and comic book trailers as if the both of you are in high school again, caught up in your nerdy obsessions. The air is thick and steady; the both of you dancing around this thinly-veiled attempt to be normal. The smallest things, such as the sound of her clearing her throat, or her hand coming up to scratch at her cheek, make your skin crawl with anticipation.

You brace yourself for the ball to drop, holding it so tight to your chest, you’re almost suffocating.

And while there’s no way you’ll drop this act, desperately clutching onto this feeling of faux normalcy, you know Ellie will. She’s much too blunt and forward focused to let you both sit in this awkward, paper-doll like scenario; steadily crafting your sentences, training your eyes to avoid her.

And, god— it’s almost too easy to let your body relax, to slip back into your old comfortable patterns with Ellie right next to you. Because she’s never been prideful, and never will be, with the way she smiles to herself and breathes: “I missed you. It’s been… really long,” she says the last part with a bittersweet chuckle. “Too long.”

Your chest caves. Stupidly, eagerly, almost like it wanted to, this whole time. Your body feels prickly and warm, but you school your face to remain somewhat neutral.

“Yeah,” you offer dryly. “I’m kind of surprised, actually.”

At that, Ellie tilts her head, fingers fluttering around the steering wheel. “How come?”

“That, like, you even showed up. And you’re actually being nice and taking me home. I figured you kinda hated my guts towards the end.”

Ellie’s body has a physical reaction to that, and she taps on the brakes by accident. Not hard enough to send the both of you flying forward, but just enough of a push. You whip your head towards her, watching the way she furrows her eyebrows and shakes her head.

“Sorry. Not trying to be defensive, but why…” She swallows thickly. “Why would you think that? And of me, of all people?”

She’s so, so gentle with the way she says it. Her voice quiet and low, not wanting to scare you away with this sudden confrontation. She reeks of true curiosity and something else that seems like hurt.

“I just,” you start, trying to gather your words, then pause, not really recognizing where Ellie is driving. “Hold on. Where are you—?”

She pulls into an empty parking lot, stopping the car at an awkward angle, careless about her parking etiquette.

“I’m sorry. I really just wanna clarify things,” she breathes out, her tone hurried as if you’ll slip and fade away if she doesn’t explain herself fast enough. “But, if you want me to completely fuck off, I’ll take you home. Just tell me.”

You remain quiet, looking at her with a face that reads half anxious, half eager. A mix of the two, both emotions so similar in nature that maybe it kind of looks like… excitement.

Ellie turns her body in her seat so that she can face you directly. “I was never tired of you, ever.” She takes in a slow, deep breath, trying to pace herself and keep her voice steady. With you, she can become passionate very quickly, so she needs to remain cool. “If anything, I thought that you felt that way about me. You stopped comin’ around, didn’t even try to room with me, and completely bailed on my attempts to see you. Did I do something?”

She’s completely disarmed. Her words woven with nothing but good intentions, the look on her face desperate for some sort of reconciliation. She eyes you carefully, and if you looked hard enough, you may have been able to catch the glimmer of want in her eyes.

Overcome with emotion, you fumble. Too busy with wanting to just defend yourself, swinging around your sword with your eyes shut in the hopes that you won’t get hurt, you don’t even try to match her energy.

“Well, yeah,” you bite back, not nearly as careful as she was. “You changed. Everything changed. You made other friends, new friends, and just left me behind,” you accuse sharply, not thinking straight. “You… went behind my back.”

Despite the way that you speak to her, Ellie’s face softens. She knows what this is about. She’s too understanding, too willing to do anything to get you back in her life. As the realization slowly dawns on her, her heart flutters both with yearning and a deeper need.

It’s how you end up pressed against the backseat of her car, her mouth on yours as her hands roam freely around your body. You shut up rather quickly, mind blurring over with the oncoming release of years of pent-up wanting. You tried to keep arguing back at her, and she did nothing but talk to you in that sweet tone, with eyes that scream I love you.

It isn’t that she’s trying to coax you, or anything. It just happened as you begin to increasingly realize that she is not going to fight you; she just wants you. She needs you to know that, she has to make herself clear.

Fog creeps up the car windows as she presses her knee in between your legs, rocking against you slowly.

Ellie’s pacing herself; she’s thought about this a few times, guiltily. But in her mind, it’s always been in her bed, her mind crafting the scene of your body, your little sounds. It was like she had to slap her own hand away from herself sometimes.

So while this isn’t exactly what she had daydreamed it would be, she still wouldn’t complain. Regardless of the situation, you were pressed into her, panting and sighing in ways that made her mind turn to soppy mush, overrun with desire and emotion.

And, while she’s set on taking care of you and showing you just how much you meant and still mean to her, she can’t help but want to make you admit it too.

She pulls back from kissing you, her eyes glazed over as she looks at your face. Holy shit.

Skin so warm, and you already look spent. She swallows, suddenly doubting how long she’ll be able to hold off.

She bites back a satisfied smile before she dips down again, her face hidden in the crevice between your neck and shoulder, kissing all the way down.

“Take this off,” she murmurs, fingers pulling at the waistband of your skirt. You do your best to follow her orders, cramped up in the seat, pulling your knees towards yourself in an attempt to shimmy out of the fabric. It catches on your ankle, hanging, and you giggle at the state of the situation. Ellie’s heart melts over itself, beating erratically; she’s going fucking crazy.

You’ve done nothing but moan, twitch, laugh, and flutter your lashes. She hasn’t even felt you yet, hasn’t even seen your body in its entirety. And she’s gone.

She almost raises an eyebrow at the sight of your skimpy little underwear, but her question catches in her throat. You were at the club, after all. Something sinks in her stomach at the thought of anyone else seeing you like this, observing the way the fabric clings onto you.

Her fingers massage at your inner thighs, her knee firm in place as she keeps them set apart. Her digits dance right against your core, pressing against the fabric. You twitch, rolling your hips into her, fingers catching on the seatbelt behind you, gripping on for life. She laughs, but not necessarily at you.

It feels like it takes her years (well, technically) to push your panties to the side, eyes falling hazy as she stares right into you. You’re so vulnerable, you try shutting your thighs close, but she pushes them apart again.

“I know,” she hushes you, dipping lower to nip at your lips. “I know.”

Her fingers trace over your folds, and you think you’re about to explode. You hadn’t expected Ellie to be the type to make this agonizing and painful, but you know you probably deserve it after your showcase of attitude.

She draws her hand back and brings her fingers up to her mouth, sucking on them nonchalantly. A satisfied sigh escapes her as she finally, finally gets to taste you on her tongue. She lets her hand travel back down, and you turn your head to the side, shutting your eyes in anticipation.

“Look at me,” she commands softly, stopping her fingers right where you want her.

You nod, giving her the false promise that you will. Ellie sees right through it, and with her free hand she gently grips onto your face, turning you to make eye contact with her.

She needed to see your face as she fucked you, she needed to know, after so long of wondering, how you looked when facing pure pleasure.

Your lashes flutter, eyebrows screwing together as she slips her fingers inside your warmth, pressing the heel of her palm against your clit. She’s gentle in the way she stretches you out, working you through it with such care and patience.

Ellie revels in the way your chest heaves already, pupils blown out with bliss. She moves her knee and lets you shut your thighs together, trapping her hand in place.

“This is all you needed, huh?” she teases, her voice only a little prickly, but her smile says otherwise. “For me to touch you like this.”

You nod silently, too busy biting on your bottom lip and rocking your body onto her fingers to reply.

“Answer me,” she demands with the same softness, setting the tone. Her gaze is locked onto your face, memorizing every twitch of your brow, every whine that leaves your lips.

It’s almost ridiculous how brainless you are already, melting beneath her entirely.

“Needed you,” you manage to breathe out, nodding your head again. “So bad.”

Ellie hisses a swear, and she can’t help the way she leans into you, pressing her body against yours. She curls her fingers inside of you, the palm of her hand nudging at your eager bud. She groans to herself as she feels your walls twitch around her digits, her head dropping low as if she has to stop herself from spiraling. She’s hanging on by a thread; a hair, wanting nothing more than to fuck you senseless. But it’s been too long, and she’s got something to prove to you.

Her eyes shine as she feels your body grow tense, your wriggling becoming more constant. She slows down her pace, watching closely as your mouth drops, a pout playing at your lips.

“Please,” you begin, and she smiles.

“Please what?”

“Please, fucking just,” you try grinding on her fingers, lashes fluttering. “Oh my god,” you sigh, that little attitude trickling in your tone.

She scoffs, almost meanly. She stops her movements entirely, fingers falling slack in your pussy. “Yeah? Do it yourself, then.”

And to her surprise, you do. That attitude is wiped clean from your voice as you whimper pathetically, body rolling, walls fluttering as you try to fuck yourself with her fingers. She stares at you in awe, throat running dry.

It takes her a second, but she blinks and she’s falling back into you. Watching as you desperately chase your release, bumping your clit onto her hand, and you absentmindedly grab onto her arm, trying to anchor yourself.

She sucks her teeth and sighs to herself. She had intended to drag this out, to make you beg, to make you say that you were hers all along. But with the way you hold onto her, shamelessly rutting your hips, her name falling off your lips like a prayer— she already knows it’s all true.

She’s kind enough to start thrusting her fingers again, moaning at the way your slick bundles at your entrance, coating her fingers and slipping down her hand. It’s obscene, but she doesn’t care. In fact, it gives her more of a reason to clean you up afterward.

“Ellie,” you breathe suddenly, your little prayers becoming less coherent as a certain feeling creeps around, engulfing your body and mind. “I’m gonna cum,” you whine shamelessly, the heat in your stomach spreading lower and lower, your body tingling.

She leans over you again, watching over your face as your eyes slip shut.

“Go ahead, baby. Let me hear you.”

It’s a demand but she still says it so softly, a certain tenderness behind her words. You choke on your own moan, body practically seizing as your thighs tighten, fingers digging into her arm. You chant a repeated I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, and Ellie smiles as you do anyway, your cunt swallowing her fingers with your release.

Her hand relentlessly slaps against your core, even though you begin to tear up and beg for her to stop. She smiles to herself before she slowly drags her fingers out of you, bringing them back up into her mouth.

It’s not nearly enough. While you slump back into the seat, panting, body still shaky from such strong sensations, she’s busy maneuvering her body to sit on the floor of the car and propping your legs onto her shoulders.

You blink as you slowly come back to reality, your mind hazy.

“Ellie,” you start softly, reaching out your hand.

She reaches up and intertwines your fingers, eyes locked on your dripping cunt as her voice carries over to your ears. “I’m right here. Can’t let it go to waste.”

Your eyes roll back, another string of moans escaping you as Ellie shuts her eyes and latches onto your clit, moaning into your pussy.

The hours of the night escape both of you, becoming lost in each other in the back of her car, cementing your fate.

Ellie laughs at your blank expression, her hand rubbing down her face in disbelief.

“That was so… garbage. Beyond garbage. Landfill levels of trash,” you say weakly, the soft lights of the movie theater reflecting off your face.

She continues giggling at your side, hand over her mouth in an attempt to be quiet despite the fact that the movie is already over.

You playfully swat at her arm, turning to her, face ridden with shock. “There’s no way you’re not disappointed! This shit was such a waste of money. We were better off pirating it.”

She shakes her head and smiles to herself, hand wrapping around your own as she pulls you to stand up with her. “I think it was well worth it; it was, like, funny bad.”

You stand, wrapping your arm around her own as you two trail down the steps of the theater. You continue picking the movie apart, disdain in your voice. You have a reason to be passionate; this lazy attempt at turning Savage Starlight into a box office success had taken a terrible turn, the movie filled with stupid one-liners and god awful acting.

You should’ve known; it’s been a month since the trailer dropped— or, since you and Ellie came back together. A month of everything falling into place, the pieces of your individual lives slipping back into the way they used to be. A month of constant, whispered confessions, making up for lost time; lovelorn kisses, touches fueled by years of yearning. Pursuing your lives together again, and of course, falling back into your geeky little habits— the one thing that brought you together in the first place, anyway.

You shouldn’t have walked in with such high expectations after the both of you predicted how awful it was gonna be once you both sat down to rewatch the trailers together.

As the two of you make it outside of the building, Ellie bites her cheek at the way you continue to ramble, the passion in your voice making her heart swell. There is just too much to adore about you.

“Hey,” she starts, voice low.

You raise your eyebrows. “What?”

Ellie nods her chin in the direction of her car, mischief written all over her face. “I know a way to give you a happy ending.”

You groan in annoyance, pushing her away. Your voice rings out and into her ears, settling her restless heart as you scold her, a smile showing through.

“Ellie!”

#ellie fluff #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie smut #ellie williams smut #tlou x reader #ellie angst #ellie williams angst

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kyeterna · 1 year

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Fake chapter covers for some that are centred around specific characters from the main quartet from a while back

#arterna #kyeterna oc #search party of four #SPof4 #SPof4 Dimitra #SPof4 Roza #SPof4 Lucy #SPof4 Kassandra #it was a lot of fun experimenting with limited colours #also fun fact: I drew these back when I didn't have a graphics tablet aka only using a mouse #I have no idea how I did it back then but man was it hard #I really like how the Roza one looks hheheh #but the dimitra one is pretty cool as well #the kassandra one would have greens in it but it looked too bizarre so it ended up just pinks and purples

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apartmentsmoke · 23 days

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Evan tells Tommy that he's babysitting Jee, but he still really wants to spend time with Tommy, if Tommy doesn't mind - and Tommy accepts. Jee's part of Evan's family, and Howie's family, and how bad can hanging out with a three-year-old - almost four, he is told by her in the car - be anyway? What he's expecting is a night on the couch watching Frozen. (Kids still like that, right?) Maybe tea parties. What he does not expect is that Evan already has an outing planned to Chuck-E-Cheese. Surprise - Chuck-E-Cheese still exists. He would've sworn they went bankrupt back in 2020.

He's not sure what Jee is going to think of him, but she remembers him from the hospital as "Uncle Buck's dirty friend" and accepts his presence easily enough. She keeps her hand in Evan's as they walk into Chuck-E-Cheese. It's one of the cutest things Tommy's ever seen. There's a thousand kids around, laughing and crying and shouting. He only has to focus on one, he tells himself, and lets Jee lead him and Evan through the maze of games. She stops at a claw machine and demands that her Uncle Buck win her a rabbit toy. After ten minutes, fifteen dollars, and Tommy tagging in, they finally succeed. The next two hours are filled with more exploitative games, the greasiest fucking pizza Tommy's ever had, and Jee spending five minutes deliberating between two similarly-colored bouncy balls to exchange for her tickets. Throughout it all, Evan's patience never wavers, even when they lose Jee for five minutes in the crowd and have to search for her. She's hiding under the air hockey table.

Tommy's doing his best to keep up. He's led all over the place, recruited to help with games, and tries to make sense of Jee's non-sequiturs. While they're standing in line for the bouncy ball, Evan nudges him. There's a big smile on his face. "I know this isn't an ideal date. Thanks for being here." "Of course," Tommy says, and he nudges Evan back. "I like getting to know your family, Evan." It's not what he expected, but seeing first-hand how full of love Evan's family is, how much love he has for them - he wouldn't trade it. Not even for the bluest bouncy ball. Evan's smile grows even wider. They're almost out the door when Jee spots a photo booth and hones in. "I wanna photo," she says, tugging at Evan's hand, and Tommy dutifully follows along. He'll - wait out here, he guesses, while Evan and Jee take their photo. They wouldn't all fit, anyway. It's a little awkward, hanging around the photo booth, but it's fine. They disappear behind the curtain for a moment and Tommy can hear Jee's high, insistent voice and Evan chuckling and responding, though he can't make out the words. Jee and Evan poke their heads out a second later. "You too!" Jee says, and Evan echoes her with a grin. "Yeah, you too. Get in here." They quickly learn there is no way the photo booth is going to fit them all. Tommy fits maybe a third of his body in. Evan frowns, then lights up again. "Hey, Jee, why don't we get out for a second? Then Tommy can sit down and I can sit on his lap and you can sit on my lap. Okay?" "Okay," she says, so Tommy squeezes in, and a second later Evan plops all two hundred pounds of himself and thirty pounds of Jee onto his lap.

"Evan," he hisses, and Evan grins at him, unrepentant. "Smile for the camera, Tommy," he says, and Tommy finds that his smile comes easily, especially when Evan turns to kiss his cheek on the last photo. After they scrabble out of the photo booth, Evan looks down at the strip of photos and their wide, grinning faces. "Oh, yeah. That's going on the fridge for sure." "For sure," Jee repeats for emphasis, and looks up at Tommy expectantly. "For sure," he says, and he's met with twin smiles.

[this fic has matching art by @aringofsalt! it's adorable and you should definitely go take a look]

#evan buckley #tommy kinard #bucktommy #jee yun buckley han #my fic #smoke.txt #dailykinley

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caesium-55 · 7 months

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—seven days. [ i ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

author's note: not beta-read. not edited. enjoy reading.

masterlist.

You are not surprised when Max Verstappen won the 2023 Formula One season. Given how he dominated each Grand Prix in the season, except Singapore but we don't talk about Singapore, you kind of expected the results already. This is Max's third time winning the WDC title and that makes you the manager of a three-time WDC title holder now. As someone who worked with the guy the last five years, you are immensely proud of Max. You’ve been working as his manager ever since 2019—you, twenty-three, a fresh graduate of Mechanical Engineering and he, twenty-one, an aspiring world champion but you've known each other since 2018—so you knew better than anyone else, better than Christian Horner even, just how much it took from Max just to reach the place where he is standing right now. Furthermore, Red Bull Racing also won the Constructor’s Championship so everyone in the team cannot be any happier. Celebrations are in order, of course, but you have excused yourself to retire early in the evening instead. Max has asked you why. You replied that you're tired and that's the only truth you can offer him.

You draft your resignation letter whilst everyone at Red Bull is partying in some place else in Abu Dhabi. Good for them honestly. What better way is there to celebrate a victory than with alcohol? Fortunately, there's canned beer on the mini fridge so that's your share of the victory alcohol tonight while you're hunched over your laptop on the couch. Rihanna is playing from your laptop speakers in a Youtube playlist in another Google tab while you work on the letter on a separate Google Docs tab.

Dear ________,

Please accept this letter as my formal resignation from my position as the manager of Red Bull Racing first driver, Max Verstappen, effective seven days from today’s date, November 26, 2023.

I appreciate the opportunities for growth and development you have provided me during the five years I worked for this amazing team. Leaving is not an easy decision for me but in order to further my career, I have to spread my wings and explore. Please let me know if I can help with anything to make my resignation easier for the company staff.

Thank you, Red Bull, for giving me wings and the courage to fly. Now, I believe it is time for me to soar new skies. I will cherish the time I have spent here in Red Bull Racing.

Sincerely,

[First Name] [Last Name].

You read it over and over again, checking for errors in the spelling or the grammatical structure.

“Thank you Red Bull for giving me wings and the courage to fly….” you mutter. What Red Bull gave you was five decades worth of stress. One decade's worth of stress for each year since you were accepted in the team. “Cringy as fuck.”

Your phone abruptly rings and you jump in surprise, dropping your phone and your beer and oh shoot, you almost dropped your laptop, too. You scramble to pick up the canned beer, hissing slightly when you see the liquid form a pool on the tiled floor. Your initial response is to avoid it so you sidestepped and kicked your YSL heels away from the puddle. The heels are previously placed next to your feet neatly but now they're thrown haphazardly on the floor a few meters away. Your eyes quickly search for a towel, or anything you can use to wipe that shit off before it reaches the expensive hotel carpet, but there is no towel in your vicinity and the liquid is moving fast so you take off your Red Bull shirt—haha, you’re resigning anyways—leaving you in only your sleeveless undershirt. You throw it on the floor. Then, you crouch down and hurriedly wipe the beer.

Crisis averted! Beer - 0. You - 1. You pick up the call after, already knowing it's from Max even without reading the caller ID because you have set a separate ringtone for him, using that catchy Super Max sound, “Hello, [Name] here. Anythin’ I could help?”

Daniel’s voice is not something you have expected to hear, not from Max’s phone anyway, but then again, they should be together right now at the afterparty, “Hi [Name], we kind of got ourselves stuck in a situation here.”

Your brows furrow, forehead creasing, “Danny? Somethin’ wrong?”

“It's Max.”

You stiffen before slowly rising to a stand. Your head begins running at a speed of 300 kilometers per hour, the pace of a Formula One car, coming up with different scenarios where Max is in danger and a list of things you can do to get him out of those situations, “What's wrong with Max?”

That's how you found yourself in the middle of the Red Bull afterparty, navigating through the sweaty and drunk Red Bull employees with your eyes actively searching for a tall, broad-shouldered, blond-brown-haired, blue-eyed Dutchman. You find him nearly ten minutes after entering the party, in a corner, on the floor, next to a yellow puddle of disgusting liquid with his head hanging low and the two Alpha Tauri drivers, Daniel and Yuki, standing right beside him. Thank God they did not leave Max.

The fact that they are in a party full of Red Bull employees and none even tried to help Max bothers you greatly. Jesus, what is wrong with these people? You lower yourself in front of him, hand coming up to his nape while the other is on his forearm before gently guiding him away from the vomit pool just in case he accidentally touches on it. If he did, you know you're the one who’s going to clean him up and frankly, you aren't in the mood for dealing with that. Max follow your hands like it's second nature for him to follow your guidance, leaning into the warmth of your palm.

“What happened?” you finally voice the question you've been dying to ask once Max is a good distance away from the pool of vomit. Daniel is the one who answers you, “He asked for you.”

That doesn't answer your question. Thankfully, Yuki decides to be more helpful, “He broke up with Kelly this morning.”

Oh.

He raced while shouldering a broken heart and still won? Poor Max. But also, you are not surprised. Not even a bit. It's very much like him to prioritize the race over his feelings because Max Verstappen only wants one thing in the world and that is to emerge victorious at the sport he loved. To prove to the world that he is top one, to prove to Jos Verstappen that he is top one and that he will go down in history as top one and the world shall remember it even after he leaves the F1 racing scene for the young ones.

“Thanks, Yuki,” you turn to Daniel and nod. “Danny, I’ll take it from here.”

“Are you sure you don't need help?”

You shake your head and offer a tight-lipped smile. Dealing with a drunk Max is no biggie. You have worked with the guy for five years already, four as his manager. That's over a hundred podiums and defeats and in each defeat and each podium, alcohol and Max become the best of friends. You’re used to this; cleaning him up, picking him up, tucking him into bed, calling his girlfriend to deal with his drunk ass, and helping him nurse the hangover in the morning with an Advil and a good breakfast.

You roll the sleeves of your champagne-colored button-up to your elbows and in one swift motion, you lift Max in a fireman’s carry. That volunteer work you did at LAFD back when you're still in university paid off in these moments.

It was a comedic sight. A 5’5” woman in heels carrying an almost six foot drunk racer who is at least two times broader than her on her shoulders. The media has already caught a picture of a similar-looking moment one time in 2019 and another in 2021—such times are the beginning of those annoying dating rumors that involves you and Max—and you can say that Twitter is mostly impressed that the Red Bull manager was strong enough to lift a high-performance athlete. Some made memes of it. You'll never admit that you saved some of them, especially the ones that made fun of Max so you could put it above his head. Some even claimed that your YSL heels must be some sort of superhero power up because you do a lot of athletic things in those heels like running through the paddock as if you were just wearing a pair of Nikes, kicking a door down, driving a motorcycle around in Monza to buy Max's morning coffee, and getting in a physical fight with Max’s anti-fan back in 2022. In theory, you can and will absolutely kill a god in those heels and honestly, it's about time YSL sponsors you because you're giving their Opyum heels so much promotion.

What the public doesn't know is that Max is lighter than he looks and paired with your capability of lifting heavy equipment and people due to your history as a volunteer firefighter, it is incredibly easy to lift him without breaking a sweat and yes, even while wearing heels. People are too easily impressed nowadays.

You ignore the confused stares that are sent your way as you hurriedly walk to the comfort rooms. In a matter of seconds, you are power-walking yourself inside the male comfort room, sending an unimpressed look at the two Red Bull rookie employees making out inside. They are horrified when they see you. You can tell with the way their eyes widened and how they scrambled away from each other and hurriedly fixed themselves while muttering a thousand apologies. You don't even need to say anything. They are out before you could even tell them to.

You lock the door behind you before heading towards the bathroom sink and placing Max there. You put your hands on the back of his head and shoulders to support him until he's leaning against the mirror and sitting fully upright. You wish he won't topple over and accidentally hit his head on the tiles.

“Hey, hey,” you tap his cheek. “You good, Max?”

You sincerely hope he won't pass out. Unconscious people are heavier than conscious people when you lift them.

Procuring a water bottle inside your tote bag, you hand it to him. He accepts it wordlessly and down it in one go. You pull out an extra shirt from your bag, “Off with the shirt, big boy.”

Obediently, Max does what he is told and he peeled his shirt off him. You have to help him midway because he got it stuck around his neck. You toss the stinky shirt somewhere on the sink and hand him the shirt you brought. Again, you help him put it on because drunk Max has seemingly forgotten where the holes of the t-shirt are and which limb should enter a specific hole. Oh wait, that sounds wrong.

“You're taking good care of me.”

His voice sounds so small when he utters those words that it almost got swallowed up by the silence of the room and the muffled sound of the party outside.

“Aren't I always?”

You are paid to take good care of him after all.

“Always.”

You wet a towel in the sink and squeeze out the excess water in the wool. Your fingers gently cradle Max’s jaw as you wipe his face. He has a little vomit on his cheek.

You're used to looking at Max’s face up close but you still cannot help but be amazed by the beauty of it, you know? Some people will not consider Max as a conventionally beautiful man. Different people have different preferences. Honestly, you used to be one of those people. You met Max when he was twenty-one and that time, he looked like a fetus and greatly resembled Sid the sloth from the Ice Age movies. You used to tease him all the time about it, calling him a kid and pulling the age card when he needed to be reigned in or to annoy him until he submits into obedience, when you are only a year older than him. The stress of racing caused Max to age quickly but thankfully, he does not age badly. No, instead Max transitioned into an absolute daddy. Thank God he is more like his mother than his father, too. His mother’s genes saved him. Thank you Sophie!

You would have fallen for him, too, like the gazillion women all around the world who'll fall at his feet, but it’s hard to do so when you know he doesn't even know how to peel his own oranges. Drives a car going 300 kilometers per hour and can’t even peel a damn orange.

Twitter is always having a field day when they manage to snap a picture of you peeling oranges for him. Orange Peel Theory or whatever that is. Ludicrous bullshit, to be honest. The only theories you know are the ones taught in Physics class.

“I wonder if you know how much I need you,” he mutter. “I wonder if you can tell.”

“Very poetic,” you say flatly because Max has the tendency to say the most out of pocket yet soul breaking things when he's drunk and you are too tired to rationalize all his musings right now. We love a trauma-dumping king.

“You talkin’ ‘bout Kelly?” you ask, brow raising slightly. You continue to clean his face before proceeding to wipe his arms and his hands.

“I don't know.”

“Okay.”

He probably is talking about Kelly anyway.

Now that Kelly is gone, you’re beginning to get worried for Max. Earlier, as you wrote that resignation letter in your hotel room, the worry of leaving Max was not present. He has Kelly after all. Kelly can easily do the things you did for Max, not that she should do the work of a Red Bull manager because honestly, if she plans on taking up your job now, you’ll tell her to run and save herself. You mean the support you gave Max. You mean going all-out in protecting Max whether from haters or even his own father and especially his own darkness. You mean standing with him, inside that open cage that he can walk out of anytime but chose not to because Jos Verstappen still had his claws on him. You mean not leaving Max, no matter where he stood, may it be at the top of that glorious podium or at the end of the line. You mean taking care of Max the same way you did, even if he insists that helping him is nothing but rotten work.

But then, she left. Now what?

“I want to tell you something.”

You lift your eyes and met Max’s glazed blue ones.

“It is in my will that if I die—”

“You're not dyin’," you cut him off, not even the least bit amused about the idea of Max dying.

“Shush,” he playfully glares at you and you roll your eyes, itching to pull that I’m older than you so don't shush me card just to annoy him. “Let me finish. It is in my will that if I die, my cats will be taken care of by you. Oh come on, stop making that face. You look like you're having an aneurysm.”

“Shut up,” you swat his forearm with the damp towel, causing him to laugh at you. “Why’d you even do that? Give them to your Mom or somethin’.”

“But nobody is better at taking care of someone than you,” he says and his voice bled with rawness and honesty and so much sincerity that you're taken aback. “I want someone to take care of them like how you take care of me.”

You blink, mouth slightly agape. What can you even say to that? Thank you? I’m honored? Dude, what the fuck? Are you confessin’ to me or somethin’? You doin’ big shit over there by putting me in your will.

Now, you’re even more worried. Who will take care of Max after you're gone? The same way you took care of him?

Nonetheless, on December 13, you submit the resignation letter to Christian Horner. He reads the letter with a deep frown marring his face. It's funny how he had the same expression on his face, too, on the first day you met him when you were applying from Red Bull.

“Have you told Max?”

The guy is sleeping in his hotel bed as you speak and will probably be awake in a few hours with the world’s shittiest hangover. So no, you have not told him. Not yet, at least.

“No.”

“He wouldn't be happy with this.”

You know Max does not bode well with goodbyes, especially from the people he closely worked with leaving Red Bull. Look at what happened with Danny in 2018. Now, it is your turn. Two of his biggest friends in the Red Bull team, leaving in search of careers outside his shadow. Being in Max's shadow..... They are right after all. It is a curse.

While you love Max, platonically of course, being his manager is not what you wanted. You did not suffer through four years in engineering school just to become an errand girl for a racer. This is not what you applied for when you sent that application letter in Red Bull and Renault back when you were twenty-two. Renault didn't have an opening in their engineering team so your future with that team was quickly erased. Red Bull had no opening in their engineering team either but they had an open spot on the team as Daniel Ricciardo's manager for a whole season. You accepted their offer, naturally, hoping that their engineering team will have a place for you soon. When Danny left, you contemplated following him to Renault.

Then, Max told you to not go to Renault because they're a shitty team and perhaps he was right because in that sucky car they had, Daniel barely won podiums, but if Renault would give you the position you wanted and worth your student loans, then you'd take it.

"No, stay."

Demanding little prickly ass, he was, "I will win next year. When I become a world champion, I'll ask Horner to move you to the engineering team."

You did not know why you believed him.

2021—Max became world champion. You hoped he would ask Horner like he told you back in 2018.

2022—Max became world champion again but you're still stuck as his manager. You reminded him of his declaration in 2018. He told you he was already on it. Two rookie engineers entered the team that year, taking the spot that should have been yours years ago and you were stuck wondering if Max was really putting truth on his words.

2023—Max became a third-time world champion and you wouldn't even ask anymore.

“I know," you say, voice barely above a whisper. "I'll deal with it."

"I'll trust that you'll be the one who'll tell him?"

It amuses you how no one wants to deal with Max or drop him the big news. Everyone knew how crazy he could get when Max does not like something. He's a menace. He'll terrorize everyone. You're the only one who could hold the menace down.

"Of course, Sir. Leave it to me."

“Are you transferring teams? Are you still going to stay in Monaco near Max?”

Monaco is not home. Home is desert and heat. Home is Texas.

“Nah, goin’ back to Austin.”

Everybody knows Texas was your home, your accent and your manners spoke of it. Some Europeans look down on it, calling you a country bum and a cowgirl mascarading as a sophisticated sidehoe of a champion. Fuck 'em all.

“Everyone in the team is given two weeks off now that we’ve won so your resignation is immediately effective of today,” Horner says. “If the US GP is held at Austin next year, make sure to come by. Max would appreciate it.”

Christian Horner is an asshole but he is at least good to Max and that's what's important.

You get a text from Max an hour later.

him: i feel like shit

him: thanks for the advil and the soup

him: also im flying back to monaco tonight, fly with me

Tonight, you're flying to Monaco with Max Verstappen. Seven days from now, you're flying home alone.

#max verstappen #formula one #formula 1 #manager!reader #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #mv1 x reader #mv33 x reader #mv1 #mv33

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 10 days

Note

Dad Jace would totally let him daughter braid his hair and let her use him as her mannequin head (who else had one when they were kids?). He would be such a good girl dad

Request: Jace and reader's daughter who disturbs small council meeting by walking in and Rhaenyra is sweet to her and don't care of the disturbance. She would have been such a good grandmother

This has been sitting in my drafts for weeks (early august...), and since I have not posted in a moment, here's a little blurb until I finish other things. I don't usually write fics with children/babies in it, but now that I'm a godmother, I have material for content XD

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Unlike her father, Rhaenyra wanted Jacaerys to be prepared for when he’ll, one day, ascend the iron throne. She gave him a seat at her small council, at her side, and taught him how to rule the Seven Kingdoms. He was not given a title other than heir, but his presence was important to her and for the future — his future.

While the council was deep in discussion about ships and importation, the heavy doors of the small council chamber creaked open. Heads turned as little Alyssa, who had just turned four, burst into the room. Ignoring the gathered noblemen, the young princess darted straight to her father at the far end of the table.

Jacaerys immediately shifted his attention from Tyland Lanister to his daughter. He could feel that the noblemen at the table were irritated by the disruption, but he didn't care.

‘’How do I look, Daddy?’’ Alyssa asked, spinning in her new dress, her eyes full of excitement.

''Magnificent,'' he said, smiling lovingly at the little girl who looked just like him, except for her eyes. She had your eyes.

Alyssa beamed at the praise, her little heart swelling with joy. She then skipped over to Rhaenyra, her small hand reaching out to display the dress with pride. ‘’Look, Grandma!’’

Rhaenyra's eyes softened at her granddaughter, removing her Queen facade. ‘’That is a very beautiful dress, sweetheart. You look lovely.’’

Alyssa beamed and pointed proudly to the light blue dragon with silver wings embroidered on the dress. ‘’Mama made the dragon,’’ she explained.

‘’Speaking of Mama, where is she?’’ Jacaerys asked gently, hoping to get a response.

But Alyssa just shrugged, her small shoulders rising and falling. Without a word, she spun around and dashed out of the council chamber, her mischievous giggles echoing down the hallway.

This time, Jacaerys was hot on her heels. He couldn’t let her wander alone — she was far too young. She could get lost or find herself in dangerous places, like the kitchens or the White Sword tower. Or worse, she could also get taken by ill intentioned people.

His long strides quickly closed the distance between him and Alyssa. As he finally caught up with her, Jacaerys scooped the little princess up in one swift motion, causing Alyssa to squeal in surprise and delight as she wiggled in his arms.

‘’No getting away from me!’’ Jacaerys held her closely, feeling her small arms wrapping around his neck and clinging to him. ‘’Did you run away from the nursemaid again?’’ Alyssa stayed silent. ‘’You know you're not supposed to run off like that. Let’s go back to the playroom before they send a search party for you.’’

Alyssa remained quiet, but she nestled deeper into her father’s embrace. She adored you, but there was something special about the bond she shared with her father. Same for Jacaerys. She was his precious little princess, his firstborn.

As they entered the playroom, Jacaerys saw the nursemaid pacing around worriedly. The young princess's escapade had clearly caused a bit of panic.

‘’Princess!’’ the nursemaid sighed in relief, silently thanking the Sevens that she had returned safely.

‘’She's safe and sound,’’ Jacaerys said softly, gently rubbing Alyssa’s back. ‘’Just a little adventure, right, Alyssa?’’

The little girl finally lifted her head and nodded, her grip loosening slightly as she glanced at the nursemaid. ‘’I wanted to see Daddy.’’

Jacaerys kissed her cheek before setting her down. His sweet girl.

Behind the nursemaid, Lucerys was playing with little wooden dragons, handed down to him by his uncles. Jacaerys played with these same dragons when he was young, and so did his brother Lucerys, who his son was named after.

‘’You may leave us and take the rest of your day, Saphia. I will take care of the children.’’

The nursemaid nodded, bowing to Jacaerys before retiring herself. Later, when you returned to your chambers after spending the afternoon with ladies from court, you were surprised to see your husband sitting on the carpet with Lucerys and Alyssa, who was in the middle of making ‘braids’ in her father’s hair. It looked more like knots than braids, by the look on Jacaerys’ face. A smile curled on your lips and you joined them on the carpet, finishing the day with your little family.

—

House of the dragon taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @domoron @ididliquorice @lover-of-helios @lover-of-helios @shine101 @tanyaherondale @mikariell95 @serrendiipty @lantsovheiress @gilliananderfuckme @shine101 @tetgod @clayzayden @memeorydotcom @tnu-ree @futuregws @blackravena @winxschester @mysteriouslydelightfulchaos @xxlaynaxx @secretsthathauntus @pilarxxxaguayo @emmavan39 @stargaryenx @erylilly @bbblackmamba @rainedrop97 @dreamer087 @gothicgay14 @ashlatano7567 @superkittywonderland @justaproudslytherpuff @evesolstice @buckysmainhxe @padfootsvixen @scarletmeii @evesolstice @dkathl @kaywsworld @tetgod @padfootsvixen @domoron @weird-addiction @angeliod @xjennyx2 @adaydreamaway08 @mymultiveres @secretsthathauntus @puffycreamcakes @thirsty4nonlivingmen @naty-1001 @katiepie67 @moshpot24x @hc-geralt-23 @lovelynerdytraveler @saturn-sas @zgzgh @sssjuico10 @tabloidteen @timetoten @deekaag @wondxrgurl @aerangi @strmborns @astridyoo15 @daemonslittlebitch @queenbeestuffs @severewobblerlightdragon @agentstarkid @msliz @vane1999-blog @fairyfolkloresposts @todaywasafairytale07 @otomaniac @zgzgzh @thebeardedmoon @golden-library @kikyrizuki @hnslchw @camy85 @winxschester @armstrongscommentsection @withfireandbl00d @randomstory56 @JudgmentDays-Girl @darylandbethfanforever9 @darylandbethfanforever9 @aegonswife @dakotapaigelove @jays-bullshit @blublock404 @Icefyre19 @paulilvsremus @mfedits @aemondwhoresworld @angrybirdxx @YarianyIrizarry @frutiloopslupin @minedofmoria @aleemendoza2425-blog @quinquinquincy @Rosey1981 @maria-reads-everything @eddieslut69 @barnes70stark @baybaybear @prettyduckling22 @Briefwinnerpersonaturtle @darlingcharling-blog @deliaseastar @Wolfgirl-205 @visenyareads @Nanaldy @Lovelywiseprincess @not-neverland06 @newtmyhusb @mikimimic

All and more taglist: @kenqki @hawkegfs @gillybear17 @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade @mellabella101 @vxnity713 @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart @xyzstar @graceberman3 @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark @laurasdrey @mischieftom @fanatic4niall @peterholland04 @idkwhattonamethisblogs @lexasaurs634 @notasadgirlipromise @zoeynicolas @thejuleshypothesis @multi-fandom-bi-bitch @lexasaurs634 @notasadgirlipromise @thejuleshypothesis @katherinejess @rafesgirlstuff @lafleshlumpeater @iamluminosity Anouk nani-2305 @books0fever @papichulo120627 @qardasngan @ghostlyvoidydragon @M0rgans1nterlud3 @dahlia-blossom21 @Spacexdrago @nhlfs

#jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys x reader #house of the dragon

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mntalbrakdown · 1 year

Text

doin’ time - C. Fisher

masterlist!

mentions of: cussing, makeouts, smut… 18+ MDNI. fem receiving (fingering), cum play, piv unprotected (wrap b4 u tap)

synopsis: at the empty house party you play a quick game of cat and mouse with conrad

wc: 3.5k

a/n: i haven’t proofread this yet

gif from @thatonekimgirl

the purple pink and blue strobe lights that Conrad, Belly, and Jeremiah bought at Paty City made you look like you were glowing. the party was 70's theme and you were dressed in a lime green mini dress with gogo boots, you teased your hair to have a bump paired with a white headband. you had a graphic black liner and you felt beautiful. you were with Cam at the dj booth. you and Cam have always been close, you guys were touchy, but you never liked him, nor did he to you. in fact he told you about his feelings for Skye which you applauded to because you wanted him to be happy.

"can you guys play" Jumper the one who allowed Belly to buy the liquor started his sentence. which was cut off when Skye pointed at the "fuck the requests" sign they made

"sorry the sign speaks" you say sitting next to Cam at a random table

"but" Jumper continues

"respect the playlist" Cam cuts Jumper off with that he walks away from his attempt

"Steven curated this playlist with great intent" Skye says making it sound like a great medicine that could cure all diseases

"to make boys get bitches" you say jokingly which was true you saw four guys within 30 minutes pull a girl upstairs

"rest in peace to their backs" Cam jokes since there were no beds in the house to have sex comfortably with

"so how are you and Conrad" Skye asks you

"what do you mean" it was out of the blue, you didn't know what they were talking about

"y/n you can't be that clueless" Cam pokes at you making you squirm

"i seriously don't know what your guys' game is right now" you say searching their eyes

"he so very obviously likes you" Skye says

"you have some nerve Skye" you say mocking them since they are also in a similar situation with Cam

"what does that mean" Cam asks

"nothing" Skye and you say in unison

"all im saying is that man is smitten with you" Skye says making Cam nod his head in agreement

"yeah right since when" you say taking a sip from your coke

"since you and I got close last summer, he got really stiff and would clench his jaw when we would hold each others hand or even when i had my hand around your waist, his whole mood would switch" Cam says pointing all the times Conrad has been tense

"all those times Belly would walk into the room" you rebuttal Cam’s so very wrong analysis.

"ehhh wrong" both Cam and Skye said in the same time making you laugh at how alike they are

"i've ran tests and experiments, that man always sits next to you and looks for your vote in a decision," Skye says

"fuck you both" you say flipping them off

"time and place" Cam says at lightning speed

"i don't want to get scoliosis" you mock the previous joke you said before

"don't think that's how it works" Skye retorts but nonetheless they laughed as well

"hey y/n let's get a picture" Steven says pulling you away from the two others as Conrad was hiding behind him

"yeah sure" you say hopping off the table saying you'll be right back to the others

as you were following the two boys through the groups of sweaty highlighter bodies you were almost lost and by each step the gap between you and Conrad grew bigger. he looked right behind and saw what was happening. he extended his hand out so the gap would close and you grabbed on. you walked until you were at the bottoms steps of the staircase. surprisingly there was nobody there

"ok stand right there" Steven says as he was looking through the polaroid lens

"did you set this up" you whisper in Conrad's ears as you tiptoe

"no" he says flustered

"he's lying" Steven says making you shocked by his good hearing

"good" you say as you smile wide for the camera as you try your hardest to give Conrad bunny ears. you wait for the flash but Steven takes his time. you could feel Conrad's eyes on you. as well as his arm snake around your waist. were they right? did Conrad really like you? as you get out of your own head you finally get the bright white flash from the camera making this go by faster

"let me see" Conrad says as if he was out of his spell and going over to Steven to see the photo, but the thing about Polaroids is that you have to wait a moment to see the photo develop

"stay with me" Conrad says grabbing you by the waist to take you to the bottom of the stairs and sit

"ok" it wasn't like he asked you to stay it was a demand and you weren't mad about it

"I'm going to find Taylor" Steven says as he walks away

"wear a condom" you scream

"fuck off" Steven screams back

"so how are you and Cam" Conrad asks through gritted teeth

"he's good, going to see if Skye already asks him out" you say trying to slide the fact that you and Cam aren't dating

"oh, I thought you two were a thing" Conrad says trying his hardest to bite back his smile

"no, we're just really close" you say meeting his blue eyes that were now dark with a glint in his eye

"cool" he says not knowing what else to say

"cooool" you say not knowing how to carry the conversation

"yeah" was the only thing muttered from Conrad

"why cool" you say trying to see his thought process

"cool in the fact i spent all of last summer wasting my time with Nicole, no offense to her she's cool, just wanted to talk to you" he says searching your eyes to see if he struck a nerve

"you're cute, dumb and oblivious, but cute" you say as your hand goes to his hair and push it to his ear, making him almost pur to your touch

"i'm the oblivious one" he says in a confused and questionable way

"yes, I'm the one talking to you" you say in the same tone

"you clearly never looked my way" he says pointing at your chest

"bullshit" you say leaning against the railing

"everyone else picked up on it" Conrad says

"ok fine, i was the oblivious one" you say surrounding "give me the photo" you say as enough time has passed so it would be devloped

"what would you give me if i do" Conrad whispered lustfully which caught you off guard

"pfft nothing" you says as you extend your arm to get the photo from his other side

"than no" he says grabbing the photo and extending his arm backwards so you couldn't reach it

"fuck your long arms" you say climbing over his lap and trying to grab the photo which made your boobs hit his face making him kiss them "oh shit my bad" you say retracting back to your previous seat

"no" Conrad says wrapping his arms around your waist to keep you on his lap

"oh" you say as you see Conrad lean in for a kiss and you go in, letting all your muscles relax and allow you to really enjoy this kiss, both your hands on each side of Conrad's face as his are trained on your waist and tangled in your hair

"i really like you" he says pulling away from the kiss to look up at your face seeing how swollen your lips have already gotten

"good, because i like you too" you say smiling at the fact some of your pink lipgloss got on his lips "let me see the photo" you says looking deep into Conrad's eyes as he hands the photo to you

it was you the highest you could possibly go on your tiptoes to give Conrad the bunny ears, but even than you could barely see your fingers. your face was looking straight at the camera with the most derpiest smile you could plaster on. he on the other hand was looking deep into you, he wanted to savor the moment of how you looked while someone takes a picture of you, no one ever does that, their main priority was to look at the lens. and even now as you look deep into the photo and analyze it. Conrad is looking at you seeing how you take something as small as a picture and critique it

"why are you looking at me in this" you say flipping the photo to him

"i don't know" he says, but he was obvlously lying, you could tell he was lying when he says those three words

"you're a liar" you say as you go in for a quick kiss which makes Conrad excited, but you quickly pull away

"booo" he says like a seven year

"not until you tell me the truth" you say looking deep into his eyes as he eyes your lips to make sure he catches everything over the loud music and also because he wants to continue kissing you

"i never get to be that close to you and i really liked you and thought you were dating Cam so I had to take advantage of my time with you" he blurts everything out ready to kiss you again

"awe" you say clapping both of your hands to your face making Conrad pull you into a kiss by grabbing you by the back of your head

"get a fucking room" Jeremiah says to the both of you

"we'll take yours asshole" Conrad says jokingly

"ewww gross" he says walking down the hall

"do you want to" Conrad says trying not to push anything, but he did really want you, but he wouldn't say anything because he didn't want to sway your vote

"umm sure" you say putting a piece of hair behind your ear

“here follow me” Conrad says as he carrie’s you off his lap so you could stand and than he got up.

he grabbed your hand in his and led you up the stairs. you were close with Belly so you knew enough about the house layout. but it was all empty now so it felt odd and anything but a home. it was just a house now. his room was empty. you tried to picture having a good comfortable time but you couldn’t. he could see the expression all written on your face.

“we could use a floaty” he says scratching the back of his head

“and pop it” you laugh thinking of the idea of doing it only to pop it in the middle of it

“i want it to be nice” he says trying not to have just a hookup. he really liked you. he wanted this night to be special. he finally got his girl

“it could be nice another day, hooking up at a party is already so unclassy” you say pulling him for a kiss

“ok but than where” he says in between your kiss

“what about the bathroom” it was the only place that could be remotely nice

“ok follow me” he says kissing you once last time on your gore head, lips, and lastly neck

Conrad grabbed your hand and took you down the hall to the bathroom. surprising it wasn’t busy. when you opened the door Conrad immediately locked the door. after he instantly cornered you at a wall so you couldn’t leave him. which you weren’t planning on it either way

“hey” Conrad said leaning his forehead on yours

“hi” you say leaning in to kiss him. leaned in for a kiss. it was deep and passionate. you felt yourself relax. your shoulders fell down as your hands followed his face to his jaw and let them stay there. as Conrad was deepening the kiss you let out a slight moan. it was music to Conrad’s ears. he wanted to hear more. he was hungry to hear more.

“i need you” Conrad pulls away from you with blissed out eyes

“fuck- me too” you say as Conrad picks you up and sits you at the sink

he lifted your dress up to reveal your dark red laced thong. he felt himself snap. he needed you. he needed to be inside you.

as he pulled the thong all the way down. “god you’re so wet” he puts the red lace in his pocket for ‘safe keeping’

he licked his two fingers as lubricant and started to finger you. you followed his fingers as they disappeared and reappeared. sucking on your bottom lip to not draw attention to the bathroom. even though no one could hear you over the loud music.

“look at me when i’m fucking you” Conrad demanded. he wanted to see how your face contoured at his actions. making him feel good inside

if he could he would do this to you all day. he’s been dreaming about this ever since he could remember. he continued with his action. adding fingers as he goes. as he did you gasped into his forearm almost drawing blood with your red nails. Conrad was circling your clit with his other hand to speed the processes up. he needed you.

“Conrad” you whispered lowly and it snapped. Conrad and you. with the white liquid falling down his hand.

“god i need you” as he licks his fingers clean and leaning down to kiss you, tasting yourself

“you’re all i need” you say with fucked out eyes

Conrad unbuttoned his pants, dropping everything with it. making you take his shirt off. leaving him exposed. you opened your legs wider for him.

“fuck” Conrad leans in to kiss you biting your bottom lip as he pulls away “i don’t have a condom” he says flatly

“it’s fine, i’m on the pill” you say as you get the cum spilling from you and rubbing it on Conrad to lubricat him.

“i need to feel you” Conrad says desperately as he pushes inside you. kissing you to hide your moans.

he was huge. you don’t know what you were expecting but he was stretching you in the best way possible. the whole time knowing Conrad you never ever thought about his size. as he entered inside you, you leaned against the mirror and exposing your neck. moaning loudly to the way Conrad is making you feel giving him a confidence boost. as he continued his actions you would look down because you liked the view and every time Conrad lifted your head to see him. and when he did you moaned because he was the one fucking your cunt.

“let me hear you” Conrad whispered in your ear

“fuck Connie” you say grabbing Conrad and making out with him

something about you being fucked in retro clothes. and how Conrad liked the dress because he could see your boobs which allowed him to leave hickeys down your chest as a manrepelent. that he is the one for you and only you. you tugged on his hair to make him moan, which led to him kissing you deeply, hitting a new spot

“y/n you need to take a picture with me and Taylor” Belly says loudly through the door

“mm- yeah on it just doing some-e touch ups” you struggle to speak because Conrad just kept going deeper and circling your clit trying to make you mess up

as you heard the steps walk away you let out a loud moan which you weren’t expecting. the white substance running down your legs as Conrad just looks amazed at you.

“that was so hot” Conrad says hiding his face into your neck leaving new hickeys to decorate your body in the morning “turn around” Conrad demanded

“but-“

“please it’ll be quick”

and so you did. you didn’t know why but you trusted him with everything you had inside of you. maybe because you knew him amongst all your life, but either way he was making you feel so good today.

he turned you around so your face was looking at the mirror. it was fogged up from the steam coming from the both of you. Conrad aligned himself again going deeper and faster keeping the same pace he liked how your face would come close to the mirror almost hitting it. your eyes were watering and you were trying not to let them stream and ruin your makeup, but he just kept going

your hair was all sorts of tangled. your eyeliner and masacra running and your lipstick was smudged. your boobs were spilling out from the top of the dress as Conrad kept pounding inside of you.

“you look so fucking hot” Conrad says looking at you from the mirror

“yeah” you say half moan half question

“fuck yeah” Conrad affirmed

“take a picture” you say grabbing his phone from the counter and putting it on selfie mode. letting both you and Conrad in the photo as you but your lip and he concentrates on making you feel good

“fuck that was hot” he says as you put it in his hidden photos

you would look at his face from the mirror he was so focused on pleasuring you. and than another moment he would make eye contact with you through the mirror. his naked body heaving from the lost of air.

he leaned down to where your ear was nibbling at it and licking it to add more stimulus and make you come which was successful. you grasped into the sink so hard that you thought you would break it and moaned so loud that Conrad made you face him and kiss him to suppress the noise. because even though he liked hearing you, that was loud enough to hear over the music and didn’t want to stop the fun

“Conrad-” you say clenching on Conrad’s shaft

your stomach was tightening for the third time this night. you felt your body come to a stop, everything inside you started to tighten. you were sure your mascara was running

Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you ramble. He speeds his movements, knowing you’re close

“You’re so beautiful.” he thought. The way your head is titled back, your mouth wide open. He loves the way your eyes were screwed shut in pleasure. He couldn’t help but smile, not being able to stop admiring you.

He watches your face as you unravel, feeling him come close behind. “Ohmygod, fuck. Conrad, please,” you begin to pull away from him and look forward, the overstimulation almost painful. you came so hard tipping Conrad over the edge and following behind.

as he pulls out you felt the cold air hit you and you arched your back, Conrad looks at the sight and wishes he could take a picture. he uses his fingers to push the cum in.

“what are you doing” you ask standing straight but losing your balance

“i want you to walk around with my cum inside you” Conrad says leaning in to kiss you

“you’re so annoying” you say turning around to the fogged you mirror and cleaning it with your hand. fixing your eyes and smudged lips.

“i’m keeping these” Conrad pulls your underwear from his pocket

“no!” you yelp running to grab them but breaking your ankles

“did i do i that” Conrad asks at your lose of walking skills

“shut up” you say walking slowly to the door and walking away struggling

“two new photos today” he says referring back to the polaroid and the explicit version

“only for you” you say fixing your dress down your body as you take your shoes off to be able to walk a little better

“what now” Conrad asked

“i’m tired let me lay with you” you say wrapping your arms around his neck to kiss you

“ok” he says with a polite smile

you didn’t really understand how he could destroy you one moment and than the nicest person in the world. a person who would want to give you the world. and you enjoyed it. it kept you on your toes.

you quickly run to his room to make sure one one else could see your state of fucked up appearance. but your plan failed as Conrad quickly swooped you taking you in for a quick kiss making you smile.

“i have some extra clothes if you want” he asks pulling them out to you

“ooo give me” you say changing quickly in the corner of his room

“you’re funny” he says laughing laying down on his blanket and pillow

“what why” you say putting the shirt over your head and walking back to him

“you were all about yourself a second ago and than now you’re all shy” he says poking you

“oh shut up” you say moving your body so your back faced him

“make me” he says towering over your face so he could be kissed by you

a/n: i take requests!

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ellecdc · 3 days

Note

hello!! its me again😜, I've had this hyperfixation on poly!maraudersx reader x lily trope . I was wondering you can make an ff of like the reader is in another house and is a quidditch player, and theres a match between gryffindor and her perspective house and she feels really anxious because if her house won she would let them down and if gryffindor won she would feel guilty ro celebrate with them. 🩷🩷

this was a very cute idea!! thank you for the prompt <3

poly!marauders + Lily x fem!reader who plays for Hufflepuff [1.2k words]

CW: reader is in Hufflepuff, no house rivalry between our lovers

This game had been causing you more anxiety than you cared to admit.

Somehow, this far into your relationship with the Gryffindor’s, you haven’t had to play against the Gryffindor house since the season started, which seemed very odd considering they were one of only three teams that you could play.

But alas, you had managed to avoid the awkwardness of not only cheering against your partners’ team, but actually playing against two of them for a blissful stretch of time.

Your luck had run out, however, and you could avoid it no longer as the Hufflepuff keeper.

You found yourself in a tough position; if Hufflepuff lost, you’d feel horribly traitorous to be celebrating the Gryffindor team, but you couldn’t not celebrate when two of your boyfriend’s played for the team. However, if Hufflepuff won, you’d feel terribly guilty celebrating, feeling as though you were rubbing your victory in their faces.

Either way, you were bound to lose.

So when Hufflepuff won, your feet had barely touched the ground before you were leaping from your broom and racing off the pitch, bypassing the showers at the quidditch pitch and fleeing to your dormitory, quickly showering and changing and making it to the kitchens before the no doubt raucous after-party could begin in the Hufflepuff common room.

This was better, you decided. This way you wouldn’t be rubbing your win in your partners’ faces; Remus and Lily wouldn’t have to worry about hurting Sirius and James’ feelings, and Sirius and James wouldn’t have to pretend to be happy for your sake.

“Should Miss not be in her dormitory to celebrate?” Feenky asked as you watched her prepare a batch of pumpkin juice.

“It’s just a party of one tonight, Feenky.” You reassured her. If she seemed unconvinced, she didn’t mention it.

“Well, Feenky thinks that Feenky has something for an athlete such as yourself around here somewhere.” She mumbled mostly to herself as she abandoned her task to search for something in some sort of storage closet.

“There you are, angel!” You heard James shout, startling you so badly that you flinched almost violently and sent a mug of pumpkin juice toppling off of the kitchen island that you were leaning against.

With a lazy flick of her wand (and a haughty smirk), Lily quickly righted your cup and set it gently back down on the island before it could make contact with the ground.

You grimaced as you turned to face your four partners, ready to be scolded for running off the pitch without saying hello to anyone, for winning the game, or for hiding, you weren’t sure. But you found your mouth falling open in shock as you turned to see your four Gryffindor’s completely decked out in Hufflepuff colours.

“Wha-” You started, but quickly had the air knocked out of you when Sirius pulled you into him and spun you around.

“You were fucking fantastic!” He exclaimed as he put you back down onto your feet, hardly giving you a chance to catch your breath before he was pulling you in for a searing kiss.

It was only when you finally pulled away from Sirius (only to be pulled backwards into James’ front) did you notice that his hair was still wet from his own post-game shower.

“What are you guys doing down here?” You managed finally.

“We rushed after the game to come down for your after-party!” James responded for you, pressing a kiss to your jaw before relinquishing his hold on you when Lily came in for her own.

“You really did look phenomenal out there, darling.” She murmured before pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “I wasn’t surprised, though. If anyone can give these two a well earned run for their money, it’s you.”

“Thank Merlin.” Remus muttered with a fond eye roll, ignoring one indignant ‘oi!’ from James and one ‘we duel at dawn, Moony’ from Sirius as he leaned over to press a kiss to the crown of your head. “I’m so proud of you.” He continued earnestly.

“You guys aren’t upset?” You asked, hating how small you sounded. Hating even more the way the four of them nearly recoiled in surprise before sharing confused glances with one another.

“Upset?” Sirius repeated bemusedly. “Why on earth would we be upset?”

You shrugged your shoulders in an attempt to appear nonchalant as your face heated up nearly painfully in embarrassment. “Well…I-”

“Angel,” James cooed as he placed a hand on each of your upper arms and forced you to look at him, “did you think we were going to be upset that you beat us?”

“Well-” You attempted to explain, but Lily interjected.

“Can you blame the poor girl? You two are not gracious losers in the slightest.” She taunted, squealing when Sirius jabbed his fingers into her sides and tickled her in punishment for ‘the absolute slander you ridiculous, beautiful witch’.

“Nah.” James offered casually. “I’m happy to lose to our girl any day. Everyone else better watch their backs, though.”

“You guys are insane.” You sighed not unhappily, leaning back into James’ embrace as he nestled his face into the juncture of your neck.

“Is that why you’re hiding in here, dove? You weren’t going to celebrate at all?” Remus asked you softly, and Lily and Sirius both paused in their banter in order to tune back into the conversation.

“It felt sort of…rude…” You admitted shyly, and Remus’ fond ‘awe’ and Lily’s saccharine ‘our sweet girl’ did nothing to tame the fire now roaring beneath your cheeks as James tightened his embrace around your middle and spun you around.

“Well now we’re just going to celebrate you that much harder! Our sweet little puffle.” He nearly sang as he placed you back onto your feet, Sirius arching his brow and gesturing to himself.

“You haven't commented on how good we look, dollface.”

You weren’t even sure where they all got Hufflepuff jumpers, cardigans, and scarves from, but you couldn’t bring yourself to ask when they looked so sodding cute.

“I think I look smashing in yellow.” Sirius continued simply, nodding at his own decree as he looked to the rest of you for agreement.

“Honestly? I think it might be Rem’s new colour.” Lily stated earnestly, and the four of you got to watch Remus blush furiously as you all fussed over how well he wore the colour yellow.

“Alright, alright. Enough chit chat.” Remus demanded; both an attempt to redirect the conversation from himself and an attempt to leave the kitchens. “We have a party to attend and a Hufflepuff to celebrate.”

You accepted his extended hand and he pulled it up to his lips for a kiss before the five of you made your way out of the kitchens and followed the sounds of the thrumming bass pulsing from your common room.

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olivianott · 2 months

Text

WHITE CURTAINS

ꕤ Theo Nott x fem!reader

ꕤ part two to WHITE DRESS

ꕤ warnings: enemies to lovers, pure smut, unprotected sex, explicit content not for minors, 18+ please don’t kill me, I don’t speak italian

It’s 3am again. Sometime around lunch you decided that you were not going to meet Theodore tonight. But here you are, in another very thin, almost sheer floor-length dress, slowly steping down the stairs to the pool.

He is already there, thankfully, sitting on one of the big, four poster beach beds with cushions and curtains and everything.

After spending the whole day thinking about last night, replaying every touch and kiss that happened, it still feels like a dream, not real, like it wasn’t even you. But you can’t deny the desire you felt for him. And the pull you feel now. Not allowing yourself to feel pathetic about lusting after a boy that was constantly mean to you the whole time you have known him, you tell yourself that you were made to be worshipped, and yesterday Theodore looked like he was ready to do that.

His back is facing the entrance when you reach the pool area, but he turns when he hears your footsteps in the quiet of the night. You see the relief in his features. He was worried you weren’t coming. Good. His gaze then drops to your dress, all the way to the ground and his face hardens for a second. His smirk starting to match yours, he gives a little laugh: “Of course.”

“What? You think I’ll just do whatever you say? Think again. You have been nothing but asshole to me since the day we met.” You respond, with a little glare, slowly walking closer to him.

“Now now amore, you obviously don’t remember the first time we met, do you?” He grabs your chin with his fingers and makes you look into his eyes. “I wanted to talk to you, brought you a drink, and you ignored me, looking all around me searching for someone else as if I wasn’t even there. Remember? Matheo’s birthday party?”

Shit. Mattheo’s party. Of course you didn’t remember it until now. You were still in an angry heartbroken stage, pining after your ex, drunk off your ass.

Theo sees the realization dawn on your face.

“My ego was hurt. I was mesmerized by you from the first moment I saw you and you ignored me so hard, you didn’t even say one word to me. When I saw that being mean got your attention, I couldn’t help myself. I’m sorry, it was childish of me, I admit.”

You see a little bit of embarrassment in his eyes. Wow. So you were the asshole first.

“I was not in the right mindset at that party.” You bite your lip, and turn your eyes down instinctively, feeling a little ashamed too.

With a hand under you chin, he pulls your face up, his eyes fall to your lips, all the embarrassment gone in an instant. His thumb swipes your lip out from between your teeth. He is bold again. “You’re trying to kill me, princessa? Like last night? Salazar, the view of your body, that wet dress sticking to you. I thought I died and gone to heaven.” While he is talking, his hands travel from your face, down your neck and sides until they settle on your hips, playing with the delicate fabric of your dress.

“I hope you know I keep my promises, diavolina.” With that he fists the material and you feel it strain against your skin.

You shiver at his words, the feeling of his hands, and the promise of ruining the dress. That’s why you wore it. To spite him. To show him you are in control. But are you? With the look in his eyes suggesting he imagines you without the offending fabric, you wish you weren’t wearing it.

The air around you grows thick and heavy, it feels charged somehow.

“I have thought about kissing you since I first laid eyes on you at that party,” Theo says while his hand comes up and rests on the back of your neck, fingers tangling in you hair. “but kissing you yesterday? Better than anything I could have imagined.” You feel the hint of possessiveness in his touch on your neck and in the next second he crashes his lips against yours. He is not gentle, his tongue exploring your mouth, your whole body is on fire from his touch.

His hands travel down and settle on your hips again, fingers walking the delicate material of the longest dress you own up, higher and higher on your legs, until the length is gathered up in his fists against your hips. He does that so slowly, while still kissing you deeply and you feel like you’re gonna combust. Finally, you feel his long fingers against the skin of your thighs and you feel lightheaded.

“This ok, princessa?”

With the fog in your mind you can only nod your head at him.

“No that’s not good enough, amore, tell me that you want this with me.” Fingers on your hips tighten to the point of bruising your skin and he grabs you and sits you up on the mattress of the beach bed. He stands between your legs, the curtains flowing in the wind around you and you feel like you’ll die if he doesn’t kiss you again.

“Yes, Theo, please!” His face is so close to yours and you feel delirious from the intense look in his eyes.

“Good girl.” He takes off his t-shirt, while you open his belt and fumble with a button on his trousers. “That wasn’t so hard, was it, princessa?”

Theo whispers and you love hate his smirk so much. “Asshole.” You can’t help but dig your nails in his chest. It makes him hiss and you smile at him sweetly.

Theo’s hands inch closer and closer to where you don’t have any panties on. The way his face looks under the realization makes you burn again. He looks positively feral.

“You’re gonna be the death of me.” With that he scoots you further back onto the soft bed while getting on as well, hovering over your body under the night sky, curtains all around you. Your dress rolls back down over your legs and that is the last straw for him.

With a hard tug of his hands, the delicate material loses against his strength and the dress is ripped almost all the way up only hanging on its collar around your neck.

“Finally.” He breaths while already kissing the exposed skin of your thighs. Grabing your knee and pushing it up, he opens your legs before his ravenous gaze and teases you with kisses all around the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

With his eyes holding yours, he sinks his face into your core like a hungry man that he is. His tongue is working you so deliciously, murmuring and groaning and moaning into you like a man obsessed. Your body already tightening up.

“I could kiss you and drink from you for all eternity, amore, but now I’m too hungry for you.”

Coming up to hover over your almost naked body, he starts his kisses under your breasts, slowly inching higher and higher. Finally sucking on one pebbled nipple, your moans fill your ears, pressure building between your legs. When he pushes up to his knees looking over you like he can’t get his fill, you can’t help but stare at him with open mouth, too. He’s carved like an ancient statue, except for his beautiful cock that looks… heavy… is the only word that comes to mind.

“You can close your mouth now, amore.” He throws your words from last night back at you.

Suddenly his hand comes under your back and he pulls you up to straddle him, his cock aligned with your core already and you can’t help but moan loudly from the sensation.

“When you are looking at me from above like this, it’s my favorite view in the whole world, princessa.” Impatiently you push yourself onto his cock and you can’t help the moan that escapes your mouth. But the sound he makes when you take him all the way in will forever be burned into your mind.

You hold on to his strong shoulders as you move on top of him, enjoying the sensations of him filling your pussy, his eyes burning patterns on your chest, face, his strong hand gripping your hip.

“Lord, the sounds you make. I’m not going to be able to forget those anytime soon.” His voice is raspy in your ear.

While you are lost in the clouds of bliss, he grabs both of your hands and holds them behind your back, changing the angle and causing you to arch your back, pushing your tits into his mouth.

As if floating on clouds, you feel the breeze pick up and see the thin curtains flying all around you, exposing you to the outside world, but you can’t focus on anything else, just the pleasure filling your soul.

The feeling of his cock so perfectly filling you, your wrists held behind your back with his hand, the floating curtains caressing your sensitive skin, his gaze worshipping you from below, your world shatters and you fall into your orgasm, trusting him to catch you and hold you through it.

He hugs you close when he feels your pussy clench and your body shivers subside, burying his face into your neck. You feel his short breaths, quiet growls and whimpers as he loses himself in you too.

You stay tightly entwined for a few moments, then he looks up at you and says:

“You are divine when you cum on top of me like that, principessa. I hope this is not the last time you give me the honors of seeing that look on your face, because I might be addicted already.”

I struggled a little bit with this one, but I still loved writing it. As always, thank you for reading, hope you liked it. 🖤

@wxnterwidow333 hope you are not crying now and thank you to everyone for the encouragement on the first part of the story. 🖤

If you want more: 🖤here🖤

Divider by me: @hereindreamlandpng

#harry potter fanfiction #drabble #theodore nott #hp fanfic #theo nott x reader #theo nott smut #smutty fanfiction #smut #slytherin boys #slytherin

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